#it was miserable and i still didn't get it in on time

[drdemonprince]

A little positivity for your inbox :). I'm a queer, autistic generally gender-fucked individual and I wanted to share how much your posts ab building community and putting yourself out there have helped me. I moved to Chicago 9 months ago and felt like the most miserable version of myself. I had like 1 friend and felt too socially inept to pursue any other connections. My anxiety had me locked in a state of inaction. Seeing you post about the merit of just GOING to things, just putting yourself in spaces helped me feel like that was something I could do too? And so I did. I would go events (with my 1 friend) I never really knew what to do with myself I would just kind of...be there. And for a while it was really uncomfortable and I would freak out afterwards. Like every time. But it felt good to be doing SOMETHING to improve that part of my life. It was one of those things that sucked until it didn't I guess. Cut to present day and I'm a version of myself that I didn't know I could be? I go to parties where I know almost no one and I talk to people even when I'm a little scared to approach them. I have so much confidence?? I have to acknowledge that this was more attainable for me than some because I'm an autist who's able to mask. Even still, I was able to find people like me who I can unmask around by venturing out a little. It is possible. My friendship circle has grown into this beautiful collection of neurodivergent weirdo freaks who I never would have known had I kept to myself day in and day out like I wanted to. I'm also not someone whose body meets most standards of desirability, it made it harder but not impossible. Anyways, thanks for being loud and obstinate and also hopeful! You make people's lives better by doing these things. I hope you have a wonderful weekend and enjoy the little bit of sunshine being thrown our way ♥️♥️♥️

Yay thank you. I most want to share this ask so that other people can see it and think about whether your experience could be relevant to their own lives. A WHOLE lot can happen just from showing up to things a bunch of times, getting a little *less* uncomfortable being there (even if you always feel kinda uncomfortable forever, i still do!), participating in what you can, becoming a familiar face, talking to people, and seeing who you vibe with. that's the work. that's everything. and you can do it being shy/anxious/awkward/having highly particular needs/being visibly othered/etc. It's HARD and not everyone is gonna be your people but it is possible. It's a lot of work but it's worth it.

[heeaara]

박종성 ──────ANOMALY.

RELATiVE : no matter how hard you both tried, it wasn't just meant to be.

iNDEX : ｡｡ park jongseong + 𝑓.reader ⟡ wc1.7k, cw 𓂃 relationship, skinship, petnames, violence, mentions of blood, accident, death ? overall full on angst ♡.

아라 : my first angst fanfic, for those who had lost their loved ones, this ones for you. People come and people go, what important is that you cherish and treasure the moments you had spent with them.

You flinch slightly as you hear a knock on your window. It was past midnight, you were lying in your bed, wide awake, as many thoughts and feelings ran through your mind about the events that were programmed for tomorrow. tomorrow was a very big day for you, not only for you but someone you loved and held dearly. you sigh as you arise from your bed, going towards the window, opening it, letting in your soon to be husband.

Yes, tomorrow was a great day, tomorrow was yours and park jongseong's wedding day, tomorrow you were finally and officially going to be committed to the love of your life, to the man of your dreams, to the one you went through so much with. but, yet, you had this weird . . lingering feeling which you didn't like, instead of feeling ecstatic, you felt almost painfully sad, as if something horrible was to happen tomorrow.

A small sigh leaves your lips as jay wraps his arms around you softly. you aim to shake off this weird feeling as you snuggle into his neck, your favorite spot where you always seek to find warmth and comfort. 

"shouldn't you be sleeping ?" he asks softly as he chuckles, placing a soft feathery kiss on top of your head as you snuggle more into him. "no, can't sleep." you mumble against his neck as you close your eyes feeling assured of his presence.  "and why is that princess ? too excited for tomorrow are we ?" he states in a glee. you pull your head away from his neck, your arms still wrapped around his waist as you look up into his eyes. He looks down, back at you softly as a wave of emotions run through you, all those weird, unknown, miserable feelings coming back to your heart and mind. You look away, not being able the cope up with your emotions and you didn't want him to be worried as you knew how well he took care of you and how good he was at sensing when something wasn't right.

"Look at me." jay whispers, pulling you a little close as you glance at him, his eyes looking right into yours, trying to search for answers. "What happened baby ?" he asks softly as he holds your cheek, his thumb grazing it in a gesture of comfort. "I ━ its nothing." you mumble.

"Then why are you not looking at me?" he asks softly.

You look at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looks right into your eyes, searching for answers. "you know i'm always here for you right?" he states and, that was it. That was the final straw as finally, a sob leaves your lips. Jay quickly wraps his arms around you, your head buried into his crook. You hug him tighter as he whispers words of comfort, he hated seeing you cry, he hated every single atom that had hurt you. 

Time passes, your cries slow down as jay runs a had through your back, whispering words of comfort, trying all kinds of ways to ease you.

You slowly pull out of his neck, looking up at him. " I'm sorry." you whisper as you gaze at his soaked shirt, filled with your tears.

"Oh come on baby, You'd throw a whole tub of water and I wouldn't complain." he remarks as a breathy laugh leaves his lips. You lightly slap his chest as a small chuckle escapes your lips as well. 

"Now, my pretty girl, will you please tell me what happened hm?" He calls on. You look at him as a sigh escapes your lips. "We should go to sleep." You say as you pull yourself out of his grip and guide him towards the bed. "Hey, but ━ ".

You cut him off "cuddles please." 

"I can't say no to you, can I?" he remarks as he gets on the bed next to you, engulfing you by his arms. You both keep laying down as his hands involuntarily runs through your hair.

"I ━ it's just surreal." You say quietly. Jay hums as you continue, "We have gone through so much, no way it's been 6 years since us dating and now, finally we are engaged and will get married soon." 

"Yeah". he whispers. "I never knew this day would actually come, considering how much ━ just happened. Its just overwhelming, we went through so many breakups, had so many fights, cried together, laughed together. We have made so many memories, and I can't believe the fact that we will make so much more as well." You sniff, your voice raw with deep emotions.

"With our kids too." Jay says smiling ear to ear, earning a chuckle from you.

He cups your face with his one hand as he looks into your eyes, his gaze moving down to your lips as he slowly starts to lean in.

"I love you." he whispers right next to your lips.

"I love you too." You reply, closing your eyes and you felt it, you felt his lips perfectly molding into yours. He kisses you softly yet passionately, he hovers on top of you and You return the same passion by encircling your hands around his neck. And, without you even realizing, some tears fall from your eyes during the kiss. You did not know why were you crying, you had no idea you actually were and why exactly. Kisses with him had always felt safe, yet filled with love but this time, this kiss, felt as if it's the last time, you did not know what was going on, you had no idea why were you feeling like this. 

He kisses you harder as he hovers over you and slowly and gradually it turns into a steamy session, everything feeling hot, his hands running through your body, your heart beating fast.

And that's how the night passed, with you in his arms, sharing love through the night. You both knew you both loved each other a lot and everything just felt overwhelming and emotional to you.

──── 030125.

You looked at yourself in the mirror for the one last time till you exit the hair salon. Today was finally the day, the day you and jay had to make promises to each other. You felt nervous yet excited, you had dreamed of this day since you were a child. You wearing a white bride gown, A vile covering your face with the man of your dreams in front of you, the both of you taking your vows.

You get escorted by one of your maids, to the wedding car you would be going in, to the venue where your wedding was to be held. 

One the other side, jay had been anxiously waiting for your arrival. He kept checking his watch, the clock ticking second by second without any signs of you showing up. He was getting restless, his hands were feeling sloppy and moist due to sweat that came with the nervousness. He was perfectly dressed into a perfect black tailored tuxedo, his hair perfectly done.

tick.tick.tick, time passing by.

Where is she? he thinks to himself, why is the time going so fast? The guests were waiting, the priest was waiting, he was waiting, everyone were waiting, for you to arrive.

His thoughts get interrupted by a call on his phone, his feeling giddy, he had a bad feeling about this, he thought to himself. With slightly shaky hands, he pics up his phone, attaching it to his ear, "h-hello?" 

"hello, is this park jongseong speaking?" the other side said, an unknown number, "yes, its me." He replies, his chest feeling congested for some reason, an unknown ache filling his heart. 

"I am sorry to inform you that kim y/n has gotten into a severe car accident, she has been established to the hospital please reach up."

car accident. car accident. car accident. his mind kept repeating.

the phone fell off jay's hand as his mind goes numb, blank. The place around him moving in circles, his eyes blurry. His friends called him out, shook him, shouted out at him to tell them what happened. All he could do was stare at their face blanky, his throat felt as if clawed with chains, and his heart? it was about to die.

tick. tick. tick. time passing by.

He finally reached the hospital, where you were. His hair messy, his mind numb, his face soaked with tear stains and his perfectly tailored tuxedo? turned into a wreck. His friends where there, his parents were there, your parents were there, his world upside down, his heart filled with an unbearable ache.

he covered his face with his palms as he takes a seat on one of the steel benches in the waiting, his friends asking the doctors where you were, the whole place was a chaos.

His friends comforted him when jake and heeseung, who had been discussing your situation with the doctor came back, their faces pale, their hearts filled with deep sorrow and grieve.

"jongseong. ." heeseung mumbles as he looked down at jay who had covered his face with his hands. jay look up at him startled as he gets up immediately, bombarding them with questions, "y/n, my love, where's y/n, what did the doctors say? is she okay ━ heeseung hyung?" heeseung looks down, unable to face jay as he says, "we're sorry, jongseong.", controlling his sobs and tears as well.

Jay tries to move past the boys, trying to go to the doctor, his face full of panick "huh? fuck you mean? y/n ━ she's okay i know she's okay, we're getting married today━", jake had no other choice but to stop him, his hands moving towards his shoulders, moving him backwards. "y ━ y/n, she's . . no more", jake says as he sniffles, holding jay by the shoulder, a slight sob escaping heeseung's lips.

"YOU BASTARD." jay screams as he gets a hold of jake's collars "YOU'RE LYING TO ME, LYING TO MY FACE LIKE THAT, Y/N PROMISED ME SHE'LL NEVER LEAVE ME, MY Y/N WILL NEVER LEAVE ME, YOU MOTHERFUCKER." he shrieks, giving jake jerks as he hold his collars, his eyes wide, his face blank, his heart slain.

Heeseung tries to break free jay's grip from jake, "JONGSEONG CONTROL YOURSELF !" heeseung shouts.

Jay violently leaves jake's collars giving him a push, as he stumbles, his eyes wide, the world around him moving into circles, "y/n-ah. . ." he whispers her name, what was going on? Was this some kind of a joke? Was this a nightmare?

An unbelievable, hoarse chuckle leaves his throat as jay laughs, running a hand through his face, when gradually, his laugh turns into violent sobs.

Jake immediately hugs him, giving his friend a shoulder to cry on, a shoulder to take off his sorrows. This world was indeed a cruel place.

"take me t ━ to her, take me to my y/n, PLEASE, I SAID FUCKING TAKE ME TO MY Y/N" he sobs uncontrollably, not believing what his friends were saying. Everything was okay till yesterday, his life was going smooth and, in a matter of seconds? his life crashed down in front of his very eyes. He was helpless, so fucking helpless, his agony unendurable.

──── .

Silence, complete silence, no sound of breathing, nothing, only the faint smell of blood and moist is all he could feel as he entered the room. His face was red, his eyes were bloodshot due to the amount of crying he did. Why was life so unfair to him?

He takes slow yet small steps, his breath caught in his throat, his body shivering due to the impact of what he's going through. He takes slow, shaky steps towards the bed, where the lifeless body was placed, covered with white fabric completely over it.

His hands were shaking, his body was shaking.

Please don't be y/n, Please don't be y/n, Please don't be y/n, please wake me up from this nightmare. he kept thinking.

He slowly reaches his hands towards the white fabric, with shaky hands, languidly sliding off the fabric, his breath stuck in.

He forgot, he forgot breathing. His heart stopped, it had stopped a long ago. His mind in a haze. Your lifeless body pale, your body filled with wounds, your skull bandaged, your skin light purple and your bridal gown, the gown that you were wearing for your wedding was now filled with bloodstains, a complete devastation.

"no . . y-y/n-ah . .wake up, baby . . it's me, your jongseong."

no reply.

blank.

"c ━ come on y/n, this isn't funny anymore, WAKE UP, I SAID WAKE UP, PLEASE ━ PARK Y/N." he wails in torment, "PLEASE Y/N DON'T DO THIS TO ME, T-THIS ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE", he sobs, his eyes swollen due to shedding so much tears.

"WAKE UP, I SAID FUCKING WAKE UP." he shakes your body, giving your cheeks pats, in hope that you'd wake up completely fine.

Sobs, one sob after another, he kept crying, roaring, he kept shaking you, still, nothing, your lifeless body didn't move a budge.

Getting a hold of your pale, lifeless hand, he intertwines his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles softly, feeling your cold skin beneath his lips.

"No matter how hard we tried, it wasn't just meant to be." he whispered, not to himself but to you as well. Maybe, maybe in another life, things won't be like this. maybe in another life, you both would be destined together.

TAGLiST : @chrrific @vmpivory @manaah02 @liwinly @hazelira @llovelili ( imk if you want me to add you in the perm taglist ).

[lurkingshan]

A lot to unpack with the characters' choices in this ep and there's still context we don't have, so my perspective could shift, but here's how I'm reading them as of the end of episode 4:

Fourmod is obsessed with Chian and will not be able to move on until he gets his heart thoroughly crushed, and I appreciate that at least he's not lying to Baabin about that. After a month of being ghosted he jumped right back on the merry go round with Chian without a second thought. And he looked truly miserable when contemplating Chian rejecting his confession. This relationship makes him feel horrible about himself, but he won't stop until Chian does.

Baabin is the kindest boy in this story and in the end he put Fourmod's desires over his own. But this is not going to end well for him or Fourmod. He's really the architect of his own misery in every moment, from lying to spend more time with Fourmod to encouraging Fourmod to use him to missing out on seeing Lisa to taking back his own confession only to turn around and confess to Chian on Fourmod's behalf. He's going to be struggling the whole time Fourmod is mixed up with Chian, especially knowing he is the one who pushed them closer together.

Chian's choice at the end of this episode was perhaps the most intriguing to me. Last time Fourmod said he liked him Chian panicked and ghosted. This time, Fourmod didn't actually confess, and it was Baabin who showed Chian that Fourmod was feeling insecure about whether his feelings were returned, which seemed to inspire Chian to make a move on him (without actually saying anything about his feelings, of course). I suspect Chian likes being liked as long as there's no pressure attached. It's the expectation that he have any commitment or responsibility about it that turns him off. So he responds warmly to knowing Fourmod likes him—as long as Fourmod doesn't expect him to return the sentiment.

Bua is still the hardest to read. His advice to Baabin in this episode felt sincere, but also like he could be pushing him to confess as a way to prevent Chian and Fourmod from getting together. I got the sense it was genuinely both—he seemed to feel for Baabin and want to help. But from what we've seen he certainly wasn't being truthful about being clear with Chian and we know he plays games. We still know the least about him of any of the boys in this story, and I hope we get a POV episode for him soon. Let me inside that head!

[syrma-sensei]

→ Godless.

Pairing: William “Billy” Butcher x Fem!reader.

Summary: In his godless world, he yearns for something divine.

Rating: Mature.

Setting: Season 4.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional agnst.

The night shift at Starlight House is supposed to be quiet. Kids are already asleep, the halls dimly lit, and the only sounds are the occasional creak of the old floorboards. You are just finishing up—shutting off lights, making sure everything is locked up—when a familiar knock echoed through the front doors. Hard. Impatient.

You already know who it is before you open it.

Billy Butcher stands there, looking every bit the man who doesn't belong in a place like this. He smells like whiskey and gunpowder, his knuckles bruised, his jaw clenched tight like he’d just come from a fight. And, as always, Terror is right beside him, wagging his tail.

You crossed your arms. “Jesus, Butcher. You could’ve just texted.”

“Ain’t got the patience for that.” His eyes flicked over you, taking in the soft Starlight House sweatshirt you wore over your tank top, the hint of warmth and comfort he probably can't stand. “Terror needed a walk. Figured I’d let ‘im see his favorite bird.”

You roll your eyes but reach down to scratch behind the dog’s ears anyway. “You mean I’m your free dog sitter.”

Butcher smirks, stepping inside without asking. “That too.”

You shake your head with a small smile.

You've known Billy for almost five months now. You met him at the Filtatron Building when you had to drop by to give Annie some paperwork for the shelter’s funding. He was standing off to the side, arms crossed, looking about five seconds away from bashing someone's head. You hadn’t thought much of him at first. Just another gruff asshole with a chip on his shoulder. But you're nothing if not curious. So, you asked Annie who the hell he was when she visited the House the other day, and she told you his miserable story.

You still get sick in the stomach when you your mind puts you in his shoes.

You sigh. “You wanna tell me why you’re really here?”

You know why he is here.

Butcher gives you a look—half amusement, half something else you couldn’t quite place. “What, a bloke can’t drop by for a friendly visit?”

You snort. “You don’t do friendly visits. Are you here to help?”

Terror woofs at you, demanding more headpats which you give him. Butcher, meanwhile, scans the quiet, dimly lit space from his spot.

“Still reckon this place is a waste of time,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes, already used to his shit. “Because helping kids is such a terrible thing?”

He does answer right away. Just shrugs, stepping closer. “World’s fucked, luv. You can’t save ‘em all.”

“Maybe not,” you shoot back. “But I can damn well try.” Like how you're trying to save Ryan. You think but you bite your tongue. You learnt to. It gets ugly when someone reminds him that his wife's son prefers Homelander over him. The boy is oblivious to his father's true nature, and Billy wasn't really kind to him the last two times he saw him. The first he told him to fuck off for killing Becca, and the second he literally was going to kill his fucking dad in front of his eyes. Which didn't settle well with the kid.

“Be that as it may…” Billy clicks his tongue, “Can we skip to the part where we fuck eachother’s brains out, luv?”

In another time, his crass words would've made you flinch. But not anymore. You��ve grown accustomed to his rough edges, even found a strange comfort in them. There’s something about the way he says it, something in his voice that makes your pulse pick up, makes your skin tingle with that mixture of irritation and desire you can never quite shake when he’s around.

So, you comply. You check on everything before you're off with him to your place.

Sex with Billy Butcher is never sweet. He fucks you with raw, desperate, almost angry need. When he manhandles you, his touch is rough and bruising and demanding like he's taking it out on you as if you're the one who killed his wife.

Why do we do this if you love her so much? You want to ask him, but you never do. Because you know that would screw it up on you.

Afterwards, Billy lays on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling like it had all the answers to the shitstorm in his head. You can still feel his heartbeat slowing beneath your palm, his skin warm from the afterglow.

For once, he isn't in a hurry to leave. He doesn't usually stay after sex. But you won't complain.

Billy keeps his gaze on the ceiling, his mind drifting away from the intimacy of the moment though he grows to love it.

God, the fucking cunt. Did He really place you in his way to discourage him from pursuing his path of vengeance any further?

He scoffs, well He’s doing a shitty job of it. Because he doesn't, by any chance, harbour any ounce of emotions for you. Aside from your sex appeal, he has nothing to do with you.

Then why do you keep wanting to see her?

A voice akin to Becca's taunts him.

Well, I'm fucking dying anyway. He tries to justify. Might as well fuckin’ enjoy the hell road.

But a knife of guilt stabs his chest. He uses you for pleasure but he knows you're more than that. He finds serenity within his soul when he's with you. For brief, fleeting moments, the searing fire in his heart that urges him for a revenge smoulders away when you beam at him and he hates you for that.

He gazes down at you while you trace lazy circles over his chest.

Such a sweet little thing, he thinks. But sweet things break easily in this world. Like it did his brother. Like it did his wife. Like it did him.

He doesn't deserve you. He isn't worthy of an angel, a goddess like you.

Then why am I here? He asks himself.

“Do you ever think the big cunt is somewhere up there?” He mutters absentmindedly.

You chuckle, looking up at him, “I don't know…”

He snickers, “You don't believe in the invisible cunt, I take it?”

You snort, “I don't really care if He or She or They exist.”

“Then why do you have a kind heart and do what you do?”

You prop yourself up on your arm, “I do it because I believe it is the right thing to do, not because some bearded old daddy in the sky says what I should do.”

He raises a brow, “Well, here's what I think, luv—”

You silence him with a finger on his lips, “I know that the world is cruel and meaningless, but it is also…” You smile, eyes holding his, “A beautiful place…”

Mine was beautiful when I had Becca. He muses, and an inner voice adds, Is beautiful when I have you.

He shakes his head.

“Might as well you enjoy the ride, Billy.” You pat his chest gently.

Before he can push the subject, a wet, sloppy sound fills the air, followed by a familiar snuffling noise.

You both turn your heads toward the bedroom door—where Terror is sitting, watching you with his big, dumb dog grin, happily licking his own balls.

Butcher groaned. “Christ, mate, bit of fuckin’ privacy?”

Terror, completely unbothered, lets out a contented huff and plops onto the floor, still going at it.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a laugh. "You sure know how to ruin a moment, huh?"

Butcher grumbles something under his breath, shoving a pillow over his face. "Next time, we’re locking the bloody door."

Unable to withhold it, a roaring chortle bursts out of your lungs. Your lilt sound caresses Billy’s ear like a feather.

You sigh against his chest, your body warm and relaxed, but he feels anything but.

He should leave. Should throw on his clothes, mutter some half-assed excuse, and get the fuck out before this turns into something it shouldn’t.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lets his fingers trail absentmindedly down your back, feeling the slow rise and fall of your breath.

“You always this cuddly after sex?” you murmur, voice teasing but laced with genuine curiosity.

Butcher snorts. “Yeah, ‘m a real softie.”

You hum, tracing lazy patterns over his chest. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Silence settles between you, heavy with unspoken things. He can feel you watching him, waiting for something he can’t give.

So he does what he does best. He deflects.

“Reckon Terror’s traumatized now,” he grumbles, jerking his chin toward the dog, who has finally abandoned his self-care and curled up on the floor.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You think this is the worst thing he’s seen? He lives with you.”

He smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You notice. Of course, you do. You always fucking notice.

“Billy…” you start, voice softer now, like you’re stepping carefully around whatever mess is inside his head. “Why do you keep coming back?”

He stiffens.

Because it’s easy? Because you’re good at what you do? Because he likes the way you feel, warm and alive beneath him?

All bullshit.

The real answer sits heavy on his tongue, bitter and unspoken.

Because when he’s with you, the fire in his gut—the one that’s been burning ever since Becca died—dims just enough for him to breathe.

And that scares the fuck out of him.

You let the silence stretch between you, waiting, hoping he’ll say something. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls you closer, his breath warm against your temple, his arms a little too tight, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his grip.

Your fingers skim lightly over his side. “You never answer the hard questions, do you?”

Butcher huffs, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Don’t see the point, luv. Ain’t gonna change a damn thing.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your chin resting on his chest. “You sure about that?”

His jaw clenches. He hates when you do this—when you peel back the layers he’s spent years building, exposing the raw, ugly things underneath. But he can’t bring himself to push you away.

Instead, he sighs, his fingers trailing up your spine, slow and deliberate. “What d’you want me to say, huh? That I like this?” His voice drops, something dangerous curling at the edges. “That I like you?”

Your breath catches. You weren’t expecting him to say it, not out loud, not like this.

And for a second, you see it—the truth he’s been trying so hard to bury.

But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. His expression shutters, that familiar guardedness slipping back into place.

He shakes his head, scoffing at himself. “Don’t mean a bloody thing.”

You exhale sharply, rolling onto your back beside him, staring at the ceiling. “If it doesn’t mean anything, then why are you still here?”

Because you're a good fuck and I'm much of an arsehole to take advantage of it. He wants to crudely tell you, to convince you, to convince himself that you're nothing but that.

But the words don’t come out.

Instead, Billy lies there, jaw tight, staring at the ceiling as if it holds all the answers he doesn’t have. He wants to say it—wants to be cruel, to shut this down before it turns into something he can’t control. But when he glances at you, at the way your brows pinch together, at the soft rise and fall of your breath, something in his chest pulls tight.

He swallows hard, lets out a low, bitter chuckle. “Fuck if I know.”

You huff out a laugh, but it’s humorless. “Bullshit.”

His lips twitch, almost like he wants to smirk, but the weight in his chest is too heavy. He shifts onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow, watching you. “You really wanna have this chat right now?”

Your eyes flick toward him, searching, challenging. “I just wanna know why you keep coming back.”

Billy looks at you for a long moment, like he’s trying to piece together an answer that won’t make him feel like a fucking idiot. He could lie. He should lie. But something about the way you’re looking at him makes it impossible.

Finally, he sighs, running a rough hand over his face. “You make me forget.” His voice is quieter now, like he hates admitting it. “For a little while, anyway.”

You hold his gaze. “Forget what?”

His throat bobs, his expression unreadable. And then, finally, he mutters, “Everything.”

The weight of that single word settles between you like a heavy fog. You should say something, maybe press him for more, but you don’t. Because you get it. Maybe more than he realizes.

So instead, you shift closer, resting a hand against his chest. His heart beats strong beneath your palm, steady but guarded, just like him.

“You don’t have to forget,” you say softly. “You just have to stop running.”

Billy scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah? And what happens when I stop?”

You give him a small, sad smile. “Maybe you finally start living.”

He exhales sharply, his hand coming up to wrap around your wrist, holding you there against him. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. The way he looks at you, the way his fingers tighten just slightly—it says enough.

He’s not ready. Maybe he never will be. But for now, he stays.

By morning, the world outside is just as godless and fucked as ever. And yet, you both step back into it, knowing full well that Billy will find his way back to you—sooner rather than later.

⚜ The Boys Masterlist

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⚜ Main Masterlist

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[forsaken-headcanons]

Hello :)

Well... when Dummy got forsakened, they didn't have any abilities at all. Except for standing there like a random dummy. It was a surprisingly efficient strategy; No survivor or killer knew they were sentient or could move for months. If they ever got hungry, their hamburger was right on top of their head.

Until one day Elliot caught Dummy devouring his pizza like a creature. They couldn't help it, it just looked so good 😋

(Ok we getting a angsty now, sorry) When the killers found out about Dummy, their disguise was no longer useful. Actually, they wasn't useful at all now. While also not being used to walking or running(their code in gasa4sc did not allow moving), they didn't know how to build, fight, or even survive alone.

Desperate for being useful for the team (and having a chance of surviving a round) Dummy went to 007n7 to ask if he could inject a bit of his c00lgui into them, and teach how to use it. With that, they could at least stay away from the killers.

007n7, of course, denied their pleas. The c00lgui was the cause for all his reputation going downhill, and who knows what it could do in the wrong hands.

But seeing the poor dummy dying miserably for multiple rounds in a row slowly convinced 007n7 to think otherwise. Since Dummy is an NPC, they were able to take the c00lgui just like any piece of foreign data.

The first time they used the c00lgui it felt... strange. Hacking was something they didn't even know was possible: Bending the game's code to your will? Reaching for the numbers hidden in the system? Using the whole world as a mere canvas to paint in? Dummy spiraled into these thoughts.

007n7 noticed it.

He gave Dummy warnings and advice without hesitation, warnings he deeply wishes to have heard when he was going through the same feeling; the fact that someone could go through the same path as his created a massive wave of guilt and regret.

Dummy now is aware of the c00lgui, and the dangerous potential it has. They're also aware of what it did to 007n7. And how its their only chance of surviving this new forsakened world. (Yaaaaay happy ending :DDDD kindaaaaa??? No evil dummy at least)

Oh, yeah, Elliot still gives pizza to Dummy and they giggle like a gremlin whenever they eat one. It's just that good. Ok byeeeeee

I love Dummy. I just love GASA4 in general.

[lexicrvg]

On a random night in 1989, Ice and Mav have a fight about their future together. Ice wants to quit the navy and love Mav in all the ways he deserves, out and proud, but Maverick doesn't let him. He knows Ice wants to climb through the ranks and get stars on his shoulder, he can't be the reason Ice misses this.

That night, they broke up. Ice couldn't bear be with someone who didn't love him just as much as he loves them, and Maverick couldn't tell Ice he wouldn't give up flying for him.

Ice quits the navy. He would've done it with or without Maverick.

30+ years go by, and their lives haven't even once crossed paths, not even at Slider's wedding nor Sundown's funeral. It seems like the universe had separate plans for them, and it stuck this way.

(They were at both of these events, but Wolfman was in charge of "Not let Mav and Tom see each other" and he always aces a task)

Until Wolf's retirement party, that is. With him being the center of attention, he gives Hollywood the most important task of his life, Wood have other plans tho, he's very easily distracted by his husband's beautiful smile and when they're least expecting it...

"Hey" Maverick says, sitting on the bar, side by side with Tom.

"Pete!" Tom opens a big smile "Long time no see!"

"Yeah, right." Mav takes a pause, looking at the other up and down. "You look great"

And he did. Being away from the navy must've given Tom 10 years of his life back.

"You look exactly the same," Tom laughs. "Like, scarily so."

Pete laughs with him, although the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. In just 2 minutes, between seeing Tom from across the room and engaging in conversation with him, Mav noticed he seems... happy.

"I think I've been time traveling in those jets," he jokes, and Tom laughs. Again.

Tom didn't have such an easy smile back then. It rubs on Maverick the wrong way.

"How have you been?" Tom asks, after taking a sip of his vodka.

Maverick did not have a good answer to that question. Miserable? Missing you every day of my life? Discharged?

"Good" it's what he settles for. "You?"

Something in Tom's eyes twitches, like he's well aware Maverick's lying to his face, he says nothing about it, and Mav doesn't give him a chance to. He spots the ring on Tom's finger and, before he can help himself, he asks:

"What's her name?" Earning yet another laugh from Tom.

"I know it's been a while, but I'm sure you remember I'm not particularly interested in women." Tom plays with his ring and adds: "His name is Grant, and he's..." Tom searches for something in the room, then points. "... right there."

Against his better judgment, Mav turns to see where Tom's pointing. He regrets it immediately. Grant is gorgeous.

He's the exact opposite of Pete. For starters, he's tall, taller than Ice, taller than Slider whom he's talking excitedly with. Grant's hair is silver, and he carries a smile that would make Mav swoon if the situation was any different.

"We met in 2001" Tom continues, smiling lovingly at his partner. "Got married in 2016, and..."

"And...?"

"Our kid came to our lives in 2019. She just turned 10."

Maverick feels like he's going to throw up. Husband and daughter. Tom had both a husband and a daughter while Pete was still in weird terms with Bradley and as single as he's ever been. It wasn't fair. He was the one who didn't want Tom and now... Now, Tom has been living a happy life with a family he could only dream of when he was in the navy, and Pete still held onto a tiny bit of hope that he would get Ice back.

It wasn't fair. Not at all. He might die of regret.

"Listen, I gotta go to the restroom, " Ice said, getting up. "You stay here! I'll be back. We have a lot of catch-up to do, " and walked away.

Mav downed the rest of Tom's drink in one go, very disappointedly realizing it was water and not vodka.

"Hey, shortstack!" comes from Ron Kerner, looking a bit tipsy, bringing Grant on his arm. "I want you to meet my dear friend, Grant!"

"Yeah, I..."

"Grant, this is Pete Mitchell, Tom's wingmen" hearing Slider refer to him as Ice's wingmen did something weird to Mav's heart. "Mav, this is Grant Kazansky, he's..."

"Ice's husband, yeah, I heard."

Both Slider and Grant giggle at this. Grown man. Giggling. "He hates being called Ice nowadays," Grant explains. "He says Iceman is someone who should stay in the past."

"Sorry, old habits." Mav opens an awkward smile.

"Can I get you a drink?" Grant offers. "Something stronger than Tom's water."

"I thought it was vodka." Mav murmurs.

Already gesturing to the bartender to bring a drink, Grant says: "He stopped drinking when our princess came to our lives."

"And yet I'm her contact emergency" Slider interrupts.

"Because you let her eat ice cream before dinner!"

And isn't this nice? Maverick thought to himself. Him, his biggest love's husband and fucking Ron Kerner all sitting together and having a nice chat!

Before he could actually throw up in front of these people, he excused himself and went to get some fresh air.

Not even 5 minutes go by before someone sits down besides him on the sidewalk.

"He talked about you." Grant says, offering Mav a glass of something that might be whiskey — or apple juice, you never know.

"Good things, I hope." Mav says, taking the glass.

Grant snorts, but doesn't answer. Awkward silence rovers between them.

"Do you love him?" Pete asks, breaking it.

Without missing a beat, Grant answers: "More than I ever loved anyone."

Something twists in Mav's stomach, but he ignores it.

"That's good. He only deserves good things."

But it went without saying. Grant knew Tom deserved only good things, hell, Ice knew it. He would never settle for less than he deserves, and that's why he's with Grant and not Maverick.

"He's lucky to have you," Pete finishes, swallowing the bitter taste the words leave in his mouth.

"I'm lucky to have him." After a beat of awkward silence, Grant adds: "You should come by to dinner."

Mav must've heard it wrong, so he waits for Grant to correct himself. It never comes.

"What?"

"Dinner at our place," Grant explains. "He'd love to get you back in his life, he treasures his friends a lot."

Friends. Right. That's what they are. No.

"We haven't been friends in a long time," not since 1986, he lefts unsaid, since we started dating.

Grant seems to think about it, then decides, "Now it's a good time to reconect. Enjoy your drink."

Then he walks back into the bar, leaving Mav and his thoughts alone.

It all seems a bit crazy for him. Ice — sorry, Tom — has a husband. And they've been together for more than twenty years. A husband who loves him dearly and isn't afraid to say so. A husband who goes to navy events just to celebrate Tom's old friends. A husband who looks like could and would kill anyone who did Tom wrong. A husband who sat down with Tom's ex and invited him to dinner just because.

Pete thinks he should accept the offer. Just to see what Tom's been up to and meet his daughter, would she like him? Would she call him "Uncle Mav"? He should call Slider and check on what to wear and say...

Oh. He doesn't know what to say around Tom. They're strangers now. The man who he once shared a house, a bed, a life, and a heart with is now a stranger to him.

The realization does something to him, something very bad. He takes a sip of his drink and decides this day could not get any worse.

Huh. Whiskey. A good one. At least Grant knows his liquor.

[canisbrutus]

*grovels on hands and knees*

Either Edgar or Casey hcs I need it I beg I beg I beg pls pls pls I love ur writing so good chefs kiss

allo allo o7 since i answered edgar already, time for casey.

Casey Harris ⚾

CW: mentions of/implied grooming. nothing explicit, but subject will be colored red if you wish to skip it.

The Basics:

puppies dog

look at him this man is practically a golden retriever in Frat form.

fun loving, and just as dumb; he's a simple guy with simple pleasures; mainly playing ball and hitting on girls.

generally speaking he was one of the nicer guys on the team, provided you weren't a Dick like jimmy and co.

a "stupid fucking ray of sunshine" depending on who you ask.

he just wanted to be liked, really.

above all else, praise is what kept him going; something he seldom got from his drunk father at home.

if only that didnt leave him... open.

(putting the rest under a cut because it does touch on a sensitive matter)

Extended Lores:

casey isn't the brightest, no.

he Did try for a long time to be, but it never really sunk in.

sure as hell wasnt easy with both ADHD and dyslexia kicking his ass.

eventually he did give up because he'd never be good enough for his miserable black hole of an old man academically, instead joining the sports team.

and there he found a 'better' father figure; one that actually seemed Interested in working with him towards his goals.

granted, burton's idea of helping involved steroids and calling him a sissy until he got swole.

and, well. let's just say i have my reasons for thinking burton isn't just interested in harassing the girls at the academy.

something about health class, i'm not getting into it because frankly its abhorrent, but something happened.

there will always be horrors but he always kept up a positive attitude; choking back whatever in favor of having a good time with his friends.

his friends, for the most part, being Dan and Bo, though he fraternized with all of the Jocks- Mandy included.

funny thing about dan, him and casey were actually very close in middle school.

upon entering the academy they briefly went separate ways due to the nature of their cliques, but casey missed him and didn't want his number one buddy to be 'lame,' so he ended up vouching for dan to join the football team.

also, dan was still pretty damn smart, especially with math and chemistry. who else was he gonna get homework help from?

(yes he did get math test answers from justin once, but only because hattrick usually puts a lot of Word Problems in his exams.)

speaking of that mission, since hattrick got fired before he could put out his last test casey Probably went and shook justin down for a refund.

he didnt get it, though, so he started beefing with the preps for a minute; usually via vandalism in the vale.

much to justin's displeasure, as you can imagine.

some flattery and perhaps a new pair of shoes gifted to the jock smoothed over that conflict, however.

this boy has potential for sure, but i dont think ive fleshed out the jocks enough to truly see his dynamics in full yet 💔 hums. i'll revisit him someday.

[hc masterpost]

[damnfandomproblems]

https://www,tumblr,com/damnfandomproblems/776703114446274560/776696002425012224-i-aint-reading-all-of-that-i?source=share

"i ain't reading all of that i hope it felt good to write tho" It felt amazing, and also go fuck yourself.

Not that it matters since the Rowling Bad crowd refuses to learn from their obvious mistakes, so things are only going to get worse.

https://www,tumblr,com/damnfandomproblems/776705721772523520/httpswwwtumblrcomdamnfandomproblems776696002?source=share

"How can you logically accuse someone who did all of that of being a transphobic Nazi just because they still enjoy the books and films?" Extremely easily so if you're a narcissistic idiot and a bully who has a perfect moral excuse to emotionally abuse and manipulate people to feel good about yourself.

"And what about the trans people who still enjoy the stories despite being disappointed to learn of Rowling's opinions? People who openly point out that Rowling is a hypocrite for writing an anti-discrimination book series only to start discriminating?"

They probably try to bully those people into killing themselves too because they don't understand the concept of "making the punishment fit the crime", or even what constitutes a crime in the first place. Especially the Trans people. If there's one thing Moralizing Leftists absolutely just can't get ENOUGH of, it's being utterly fucking monstrous to the minority groups they claim to champion when someone from said minority group dares to have an independent thought and expresses opinions they don't like, or just generally stops being useful as a shield to hide behind.

Again, see the I/P conflict and how fast they've turned against Jews after years of jerking themselves off about being "antifascist."

"While we're at it, do you also claim anyone who still likes Coraline or Sandman supports Neil Gaiman's serial rape? Or that HP Lovecraft fans are racist? Or that Percy Jackson fans think Pagans are crazy? (Look it up, Rick Riordian made anti-paganism statements in the past and only recently apologized largely due to pressure)."

That's the problem, these people are dumb as rocks and fully sucked into mob mentality and the exact same mindset of moralizing as Jack Thompson and conservative fundamentalists who decried DnD and Pokemon as being Satanic. They're fucking idiots who genuinely DO believe all of that.

Especially with Lovecraft! They literally never SHUT UP about Lovecraft even though his is the most tragic case because he flat out said at the end of his life that he REGRETTED his bigotry and didn't have enough time left to do anything to atone for it! But these nitwits ignore that because they still think the stupid cat meme is funny.

Hell they're ALREADY trying to do the "Hatsune Miku made Minecraft" shit with Gaiman's works because they still think that's a good precedent to set and a thing that won't inevitably just lead to everyone being miserable because expecting your authors to be 100% pure is damn near impossible.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[jusiri]

Gotta say, i think the peak of my school performance is gonna be that on our last project of the semester, on the project that all of the upperclassmen said they hated, that people said made them cry

when my teacher was having individual discussions with each of us to go over any mistakes we made and explain it, when i went to talk to him, he said that there's about 15-20 mistakes that students will typically make

and i didn't make any of them

And frankly i dont think im gonna do that well in something ever for the rest of my whole academic career lmao

[star-spirit-mayhem]

Hc that Eddie had an ed before Venom came along and Venom eating anything in reach isn't a symbiote thing its just bc Eddie was already borderline starved and Venom could not cope. Scorse? Idk it just feels right

[lightningidle]

Fig's line "I don't think I'm an artist, I think I'm just a good friend" has not left my head at all. Just...

You're Fig Faeth and your horns came in over the summer and you pick up the bard class as a form of adolescent rock 'n' roll rebellion, and it works! It's exactly the outlet you need! You give a guy you just met drumsticks and you start a band and it's good enough that within a year and a half you're touring. You are, in every sense, good at being a bard.

And then, finally, your junior year, you start to take it seriously. Your art goes from an outlet and a form of rebellion to a practice. A discipline. (Can rebellion exist within a discipline?) Your classmates know what they want to do with their work. They all have a thesis statement. And yeah, there's cohesion in the music you make, but you've never had to think about why you make it. You've never sat down and dissected what it is about bass that speaks to you. You've never poured over your lyrics to pick at any deeper meaning. Why should you? You don't play music for a grand design, you do it to... huh, why do you do it?

(Your art is the one form of self-expression that feels as safe as Disguise Self does, because even if you're pouring your heart onto the page and then screaming it in front of thousands of people, it's not like you're really making yourself known. You can sing I'm lonely, I'm scared, I'm furious, and your fans will sing it right back, and there will still be the distance between performer and audience to keep your heart safe.)

Now you're being asked to look inward to explain the artistic choices you're making, and you can't help but recoil at that, because you'd rather do anything than look inward. Meanwhile, your classmates have no problem with it, so you start to wonder if you're a real artist at all. Can your art be authentic if it only exists to bolster a thesis statement? Has your art been unauthentic this whole time because you've never really thought about a thesis statement before? Is that what makes it art, and not just the next track on somebody's teen angst playlist?

You can't think about yourself— acknowledging your own existence makes you want to puke. So if your music is an extension of yourself, (and it is, even if it's just because the spotlight reveals only what you want it to,) you can't think about your music. You can't. You have to. Your grade depends on it.

You're Fig Faeth, and you keep multiclassing because you'd rather be a good friend than a great artist. If introspection is what great art demands, then fuck it. You must not be a bard at all.

[caterjunes]

i know my body is doing its best but christ alive.

[fitzselfships]

Cool so at 4 almost 5 am my brain decides What if you had a dream about how you don't fit in at all with your family, a panic attack the minute you wake up and started thinking about if Zooble would Acrually love you or leave you for someone else given the chance lol and I'm once again forced to just sit there. Cool thanks brain that Really helps 👍 /Heavy sarcasm wtf this sucks :[

[ask-artsy-oncie]

I wish I was not an unintelligent manchild.

[drop--pop--candy]

always silly when people are like "things get better. they've been better so obviously they will get there again" like first of all that's not how this works. but second of all they've never been Better I was just less aware of it

[tardis--dreams]

Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care