#it's not too terribly bad right now but like

[alchemistc]

Tommy has a bad date and goes to visit Abby at her loft, only shocker, Abby left months ago and The Himbo is staring at him from the other side of the door.

He tips his chin. Raises an eyebrow. Scans down, back up, just in time to meet the kids eyes.

"U - uh hi?"

He gets it immediately. What would have drawn Abby in despite the age difference, despite the knowledge that all her friends and family were gonna give her shit, despite -

Well. He's fucking adorable, for a start. Bright bright blues eyes that look like maybe they're always a little wet, the foundation for a really great muscle base, even though he clearly hasn't figured out how to balance cardio and weight lifting, pink full lips, an adorably puppy-dog slash to his face, legs for fucking days. God. Yeah okay. Tommy'd been younger than Abby too but not this young.

"Is Abby home?"

Something strange crosses his face. Confusion, upset, maybe some genuine pain. He shakes his head, opens his mouth. Snaps it shut. Tommy's had a shitty night and honestly for a second he thinks making the look on this kids face go away for a few minutes would fix him.

"Patricia?" Tommy asks, because maybe at least Pat will be lucid enough to sit and with him and mope to the tune of whatever's on Hallmark.

The kid swallows, brows knitting together. "She uh. She passed. A - a few months ago now."

Tommy has to dig his nails into his palms to keep himself from being rude as hell. Sure, things with Abby hadn't ended great but Christ he'd loved Patricia. She could have at least sent him a fucking pigeon. Smoke signals. Something. It's not this kids fault though.

"And Abby ...?"

This kid doesn't know him from Adam. He'd have every right to kick Tommy off the welcome mat and shut the door. Something sad and vulnerable crosses his face. "Are you Tommy?"

Tommy's brow jumps. His posture shifts. "Cross my heart I'm not here to steal her back from you." He doesn't know what Abby's told people. He'd promised he wouldn't do what he'd done to her to another person and left it at that. They'd been together for years and Tommy honestly doesn't know if she'd go the bitter route and tell everyone, or if she'd be ashamed and hide it.

The kid laughs, watches Tommy's fingers make an x over his left pec. The face falls after a moment. "I - uh - I actually don't think she's coming back," he says, choked up just a bit, rising inflection on the end of his sentence. The wet eyes look a little watery now. "S -she went to find herself after her mom died and I don't think - I don't think I'm gonna be a part of whatever she finds."

Yeah. Fixing him will definitely make Tommy forget how terrible his date with Frank had been.

"Can I buy you a drink, kid?"

He blinks. Swallows. Does a piss poor job of hiding the way he's feeling, and Tommy wishes he remembered how to be so open. "Evan. Buck. I - Evan Buckley."

Tommy nods. Grins. "Kind of a mouthful. You mind if I just call you Evan?"

Something passes across his face. He takes a step back. "Uh - if you're serious, I would - that'd be - I just have to grab my wallet?"

Tommy shrugs. He'd offered to pay, but it's entirely possible he still gets carded at bars. "I've got time."

Evan opens the door wider. Gestures him in. Tommy passes the threshold and takes in the space. It looks fucking exactly the same. Evan hasn't made a mark on this place at all.

Tommy's got no room to resent Abby, but if he did...

Evan reappears in record time. He's changed his shirt.

Tommy is absolutely not going to read into that.

"You like craft beer, Evan?"

Evan pulls a face, and Tommy laughs, letting himself be ushered right back out the door. His keyring, Tommy notices, only has a house key and a car key.

Tommy slaps him on the back. "Fine, I won't subject you to my refined palette. I know a place that has a PB&J special."

Evan's stride is fucking ridiculous, as he keeps an easy pace with Tommy down the hall. He turns his face, his body, fully into the space Tommy occupies. Tommy's just waiting for him to trip over his own goddamn legs. "W-what uh - what's a PB&J?"

He already looks brighter than he had five minutes ago.

If Tommy were a shittier person, he'd spend the night trying to to get straight into his pants.

"Pabst and a shot of Jameson?"

He blinks. "Oh. Hey, that's clever. Sorry, when I bartended all the drinks were either in Spanish or some hokey touristy lingo. I mean I memorized like a thousand drinks but no one ever ordered them."

He's honest to god pouting as he says it. Tommy wants to bite that bottom lip.

He babbles all the way down the elevator, across the parking garage to Tommy's truck. Doesn't even pretend to make a fuss about driving separately. Tommy's a virtual fucking stranger and Evan just hops right in the passenger side and asks him about his license plate.

"No shit? I'm at the 118!" Evan says, and Tommy forces himself not to make the joke about stranger danger he'd been planning. That's an awful coincidence, unless it's not. Maybe a few drinks in he'll feel a little less tight lipped about the Abby of it all. Maybe this kid will do just as good a job of patching Tommy's night as Tommy plans to patch his.

He barely stops to breathe the short drive to the bar, and Tommy can already tell he's in way over his fucking head.

After he drops him off, tucks him into bed if he needs it, he's pretty sure he's gonna have some choice words for Abby.

Until then, he's gonna spend the next few hours doing everything he possibly can to keep the sad look off his face.

[qussymagnet]

Yes!!!! Starting with a statement that you can actually believe is so powerful.

Fun fact, I used to be suicidal. I didn't want to live. And it made sense, I was in a terribly abusive situation, and having no frame of reference otherwise, life seemed pointless and hollow. There really didn't seem to be any chance for it to get better.

I waited until I was home alone. I took a knife and put it to my wrist. I pressed it in a little, not breaking skin but feeling the pinch of the metal. It terrified me. I couldn't act. I was too scared that it would hurt, and too considerate about the idea of someone - even someone terrible - needing to find me that way. So, I stood there by myself for a while staring out of the sink window at my bleak life, just thinking.

First, I thought about how cowardly I felt for not being able to even kill myself. Which, yes, I recognize is not a healthy thought lol. But, eventually I thought, Well... if I want to kill myself, it certainly can't get worse, right? Maybe I should stick around and see if something cool happens. I could always kill myself later if it turns out I was wrong.

And yes, thinking to yourself, I could always kill myself later is not in any way a positive thought lol, but it was something. It was a step away from I want to end my life right now. It was a willingness to hope and just wait and see what happened. It was, yes, leaving the door open. And leaving the door open meant that I was alive long enough to have things happen that made me happy to be alive.

At first it was small things, like an especially pretty soft rain, a sunrise, or seeing a cute animal. Then, it was other things, like pursuing an art degree, making friends, falling in love. Then, it became things like, learning boundaries, separating myself from abusive people, going to trauma therapy, and learning to respect my needs.

The road was messy and painful. These things are not easy to unlearn. And the demon called suicide ideation does still occasionally lurk outside my window when I'm having an especially bad time. But, finally, I loved myself. I cherish my life and the people in it. And I want to stick around as long as possible.

Please, start with what you can honestly believe in. You don't have to perform positivity for anyone. But, keep the door open. Tomorrow may show you something better than today.

one of the best ways i’ve found to combat that inherent depressive pessimism without veering into toxic positivity territory is simply the phrase “i’m open to the possibility”

this particularly works with anything negative i’ve forecasted. “i woke up feeling like shit today, so my day is gonna suck” isn’t a particularly helpful thought, but “it’s a great day to be alive!!!!!” feels hollow and insincere when i have a pounding headache & am running on three hours of sleep

instead i’ll tell myself, “i really don’t feel good right now, but i’m open to the possibility that coffee and breakfast might perk me up a bit.” or “i’m in a lot of pain today, but i’m open to the possibility that my workday might still have fun parts despite that”

sometimes, when your impulse is to slam the door on anything good, but you’re not exactly up to going out & hunting it down yourself, leaving the door open just a crack makes all the difference

[hikariyuushi]

HCs for Homicipher Boys and How They Sound

No voiceclaims cause I'm terrible at searching those up, but I think I got a general idea of tone for some of the guys. Comes with some HC dialogue for how they might sound in human language.

Mr. Crawling is a very soft spoken type. He'll talk a LOT, perhaps a bit rambly, but he's always earnest in his words. "I... I'm so sorry. It's just, I thought you might've needed some help. Oh, you did? And you'd like me to come with you? O-of course!"

Mr. Hood's voice is very stern, but caring in the right circumstance. Very much focused on getting straight to the point when he speaks. "This place is full of hostiles. You should leave. You need help? ...Very well, I will aid you."

Mr. Silvair is your typical methodical doctor type voice. Maybe a hint of sadism slips in every now and again when he starts speaking about his research. "How fascinating... not a single visible reaction to these chemicals. I'll have to conduct more studies. Simply too fascinating..."

Mr. Chopped uses all the energy that would've gone into moving a body, and put it towards being absolutely animated in his voice and facial expressions. He is loud. He needs to be, if he wants to get any sort of assistance in this place. "Hey! HEY! You, yeah you! Down here! Ugh, could you please pick me up? My hair's such a mess..."

Mr. Gap is more raspy. He sounds like he's always snickering when he asks for body parts. Very much has 'annoying little brother' vibes. "Hey. Hey guess what? I saw this pretty neat thing from that giant pile over there. You wanna see? You gotta give me your eye. Oh c'mooon, it's just an eye, you got two of 'em. You don't need both. Fiiiiine. Laaaame."

Mr. Machete's voice is gruff. Probably uses even less words than Mr. Hood just cause he does what he wants anyways, so why does he need to communicate it? "Hey, tiny. Fight me. No? Too bad. You're my new prey."

Mr. Scarletella's voice always has this odd effect to it, and it only gets worse the more insistent he gets. The voice starts close to normal at first. But then the whispers come out of nowhere. The atmosphere feels even more tense. And if he gets agitated enough to where you can only see his eye staring into your soul, his voice no longer sounds like it's coming from him, but inside your own head. "...your name. There's nothing I want more. Please. Please tell me. Please. Please. Please." Please tell me.

[variety-fangirl]

On My Own / Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: It's the morning after Rafe's threatening behaviour, you're still shaken up, but JJ convinces you to go to the police for the safety of you and your baby. Your relationship with JJ also takes a turn for a huge change.

Warnings: typical toxic Rafe behaviour, swearing, threats, police reporting.

Authors note: Feel free to skip this! Here we are again with my terrible timing and scheduling. For the longest time, I had no ideas for the next part and my scheduling took a turn for the worst. I've been trying my hardest to get into University for the past 3 years and am finally here! There's been a lot going on personally behind the scenes for me too, so things have been difficult tbh 😅 But I've finally figured out where I want this next part to go, I also took longer to write this so it was a longer part for the wait 🫡

Word count: 2.6k

After a filling and delicious breakfast made by Sarah, you showered and dressed for the day. You knew you would need to speak to the police about Rafe's behaviour last night, but honestly? You didn't want to. You were frightened by the power he held because of his family and wealth. Peterkin was the only one you could trust if you were to report him, you knew she would listen and take you seriously. She wasn't corrupted or took bribes to hide the truth, she always did the right thing if she could.

You had been mulling over the idea all morning as you brushed your wet hair. You wanted to protect your baby from being near Rafe if you could, they deserved better than to deal with an unstable and cruel man like him. Did you regret your baby? Absolutely not. But did you regret ever getting involved with Rafe? Yes, more than anything. You knew what you had to do, you just didn't know if you had the strength to do it. (hehehe).

A knock sounded on your door, pulling you from your heavy thoughts. You were honestly thankful for the distraction. John B poked his head around the door as you called him in with a smile. He entered your bedroom, opting to sit on the bed next to you. He bumped shoulders gently with yours, "Hey you. How are you doing?" He questioned as you peered at him. You bumped his shoulder in return, offering your most convincing smile.

"I'll be fine once Rafe is away from me and my baby." You mumbled as you rubbed your clothed bump affectionately. John B nodded and placed his hand on top of yours, always the big brother you needed. He brought his arms up and around your shoulders, lovingly pulling you into his chest. "We'll make sure he never comes near either of you again, and even so, we are all here to protect you. No matter what." You slapped at his arm playfully, "Stop! You'll make me cry!" You could already feel the hormonal tears building in your eyes. That telltale burn. He laughed loudly, not stopping you from hitting him.

Once he calmed down, he teasingly learnt closer to your ear. "Sooooo, what's happening with you and JJ?" the clear smirk sounded even in his voice, you could feel the motion against your head. You turned to glare at him, not at all serious, "Do me a favour? Just fuck off." You pushed at his chest gently, not budging him but it's the action that counted for your pride. He laughed once again before letting you go to look at you properly.

"Seriously though. What's going on?" He questioned with a gentle smile as you scooted to face him fully. You knew you could trust John B with anything and that it wouldn't leave this bedroom unless necessary. You shrugged, "Not sure. Didn't even think he saw me that way until this morning. Now I'm rethinking everything, but not necessarily in a bad way." You commented thoughtfully. You were honestly surprised that your best friend was in love with you, and for years for that matter.

"I mean, I think you should give it a shot. You know no one would love you as fiercely or loyal as him. And he loves the baby already. Plus, you've been best friends for years, so you know him well." He mentioned, naturally bigging up his best friend like the good bro he is. "Only if you want to though, of course. No pressure, I won't mention this conversation to anyone else. Just think about it yeah?" He pulled you in for a proper hug, a natural bear hug that had you sighing contently.

You nodded against his chest, wrapping your arms around him in return. The feeling of love and warmth pulling the tears out of you. "Ahhh, for god sake!" You yelled laughing, frustrated with your over-emotional hormones. You both laughed, yours coupled with sniffles. He held you till you pulled yourself together, chatting about how best to go about things. Until you were ready to let go and go to the police station.

John B left the room whilst you finished getting ready for the anxious day ahead of you. You were beyond nervous, especially about how Rafe would react. Lord knows he would hear about your visit to the station through nosy dickheads watching you. You could already feel a headache forming. You groaned as you put on your shoes, with great difficulty, and then made your way downstairs to join the gang.

Everyone was here, waiting for you whilst they ate or drank coffee. Not everyone was a morning person, *cough cough JJ and John B*. But everyone was up and here for you. They had all been filled in with the details of what had happened. JJ offered to take you to the station while the group returned to John B's. You were so thankful for them all, but JJ most of all. He'd held your hand, metaphorically and physically throughout this whole process. No matter how tough it's been or how difficult you thought you were to be around, he was always there with encouraging words. Not once frustrated with you.

You and JJ pile into your car to go to the station, while the gang returns to the chateau. JJ drove instead of you and insisted on doing so, whilst you bathed in nerves. Music from the radio played quietly in the background as you stared out the windows. You hadn't realised your leg was bouncing repeatedly against the floor, that your hands in your lap were pulling at your sleeves, or that you were biting the skin on your lips absentmindedly. You only noticed when JJ's hand grabbed your knee, rubbing the area soothingly.

You turned to look at him, your knee now still, "it's going to be okay, sweetheart." JJ reassured, trying to calm your chaotic mind and seeping nerves. You placed your hand on top of his, taking a deep breath in as you laced your fingers with his. You place your unoccupied hand on his arm, cuddling his arm into you. You hum contentedly at the warmth he naturally produces, snuggling closer to him. You caught soft wafts of his cologne wrapping around your senses and it instantly helps calm you.

You sigh, "Thank you." You speak quietly, comforted by his desire to help you feel better. He squeezes your knee, not needing to say anything, he already knew you were grateful. He hums, "What were you thinking about in that beautifully stressed brain of yours anyway?" he wonders with a reassuring smile, his eyes staying on the road ahead. You also look forward, watching the sunny scenery go by. People were going about their normal day-to-day activities, some rushing around or exercising. Everyone else's normal lives... unlike yours, which was chaos because of one single man.

You breathe in and then out through your nose deeply before answering him, "Thinking about... what Rafe will do or how he'll react when he finds out. I don't imagine it'll be long. That prick always seems to hear about everything, even before others do. It's like he has eyes everywhere at all times or something." You huff in frustration, looking out the passenger window, "I can't eat, shit or piss without that asshole knowing... So who knows what he'll do when he finds out I've gone to the station to report his behaviour." You whisper the last part, feeling dejected about what was to come with him.

JJ squeezed your knee again, to try and help calm your raging nerves and worries. He nods, "I know. It's going to be difficult but we need to stop him somehow. He needs to stay away from you and the baby, he's dangerous. Or I'll do something that'll get me into trouble." JJ mumbled the last part, seemingly more to himself than to you. You sigh, the last thing you wanted was JJ getting intro problems or going overly out of his way for you. He does enough for you as is, so you don't want him to do anything more.

-

It wasn't before you reached the station and parked outside, opposite the building. You sat in the car for a few minutes before going in, trying to calm yourself long enough to talk to the sheriff. It was beyond frustrating that this was where you were at in your life. That this was what you were dealing with because you stupidly fell in love with the wrong man. You wanted to smack yourself across the head for being an idiot, despite knowing his reputation. You fell for his charm and good looks, like an absolute fool. But now you were here and you couldn't change the past. But you could shape your future.

You look to JJ and nod, letting him know you are good. You both get out, taking your time with JJ's help and walk towards the building. You were going to use every trick in the book to stop Rafe from coming near you or your child again. You would report and record everything that Rafe has done that would class as a risk to your child to keep him away. So help you, you would protect your child with everything you could. With your own life if you need to.

You make your way inside and speak to the man at the reception desk, requesting to speak to Peterkin privately. He points to the chairs behind you in the small waiting area, "Wait here for a bit while I speak with her. She's busy at the moment, so it may take some time." You nod in understanding, "It's urgent, so I can wait. Thank you, sir." You reply as you turn to sit with JJ on the wooden chairs. The chair squeaked in protest from overuse and years of never being replaced.

You and JJ wait as patiently as possible, chatting to keep yourselves entertained and pass the time until Peterkin arrives. JJ held your hand the whole time, sensing your nerves returning tenfold. If your leg repeatedly tapping against the ground or your fiddling free hand had anything to say about it. You were waiting for around fifteen minutes, getting more antsy as each minute passed by. By the time Peterkin called you to go into her office, whilst JJ waited in the waiting area, you were a sweating bucket of nerves.

Peterkin closed the door behind you both as you took a seat opposite her desk, your hands resting on your stomach. "Some water?" She asked with a smile, walking over to her cooler. You nodded, "Yes, please." You were in need of something cold to cool you down and quench the thirst that had formed since waiting. She filled a cup and then offered it to you before sitting at her desk, "Thank you." You said gratefully.

"So, y/n. What kind I do for you? Congratulations are clearly in order." She motioned to your stomach with a kind smile, she was always so nice to you. Still is. "Thank you, not long to go. My pregnancy is actually related to why I'm here." She nodded, giving you the opportunity to speak up.

You gave her the rundown of what Rafe had been doing since the day you confronted him about your pregnancy. It took you half an hour to mention everything you could, trying your hardest not to forget any details. She asked questions where necessary and nodded when listening, all while writing down notes. Peterkin was well aware of Rafe's behaviour, he was a celebrity at the station. Peterkin wouldn't admit it but she did not like Rafe at all. She was completely understanding and comforted you when you teared up about last night.

"Damn, honey... That damn Rafe. I'm sorry for what he's been putting you through, you don't deserve any of that. But legally? I can't do anything. Unless he threatens or hurts you and your baby physically, I can't report anything for you. My hands are tied. Off the record: No matter how much I personally would love to see him punished. That kid is nothing but trouble. But as soon as something else happens, with Rafe, there is no doubt that he will, okay?" She sighs frustratedly, knowing already how deflated and frustrated you must feel.

You nod, hiding all the true feelings that wish to come to the surface underneath. "I understand, if there is anything that I can do, please do let me know. And I'll inform you of anything else that happens. Thank you, sheriff." You get up from your seat and make your way to the door feeling completely hopeless about what you'll do with Rafe next. Peterkin stops you just as you're opening the door, still in the doorway. You see JJ getting up from his seat at the sound of the door opening.

Peterkin hands you a sticky note with her name and number in black pen, "anything you need, just call. Anything. Okay?" She rubs your arm gently after she passes the note to you, a motherly comfort sort of rub. It made you smile, despite all the negative emotions you were feeling. You nodded, "Thank you."

You walk towards JJ, putting the sticky note in your bag for safekeeping. You'd add her contact info to your phone later on. "You good?" JJ questions with concern laced in his tone. You'd been in there for a little while, he'd probably been worried about you. You smile as you look at him, wrapping your arms around his bicep and leaning into his side gently. JJ smiled down at you in return as you answered him.

You explain everything to JJ on the way back to the chateau, all while trying your best not to think all that Rafe had planned since last night. He was beyond angry at you for doing nothing wrong, but in his eyes, you'd double-crossed him. It gave you chills. JJ did his best to assure you that they would all look after you and that he'd kill Rafe if he came near you or the baby, which you appreciated deeply. But you didn't want to get them involved. It wasn't their fault, it wasn't yours either, but you'd made your choice that first time you let Rafe lure you in with a kiss at the back of a house party at Sarah's.

You'd figure something out, you always did. You wouldn't let Rafe win, no matter what. That prick got his own way, way too often. But not this time, no. Rafe was going to stay away from you and your baby. Even if that meant having to flee somewhere he wouldn't find either of you. You turned and looked at JJ as the car stopped, both just taking a moment before you went inside. "Oh, you have something on your cheek." You pointed out, looking intently at his perfectly clean cheek. He started rubbing at his cheek confused, "gone?" he questioned with furrowed brows.

You shook your head, "come here, I'll get it for you." You motioned for him to come closer and as soon as he did, your lips were on his. Just a simple 3-second pec, to test the waters, despite his confession to John B this morning. You pulled away and stared at him with anticipation of his reaction. His eyes were wide in shock and you thought you'd fucked up. You went to move away but JJ grabbed the back of your neck and desperately pulled you in, crashing his lips against yours with a moan.

The more you looked at JJ, the more the talk with John B from this morning played on your mind. You'd been thinking of JJ as something more ever since, trying wouldn't hurt, would it? He wouldn't hurt you the way Rafe did and will. JJ was different and you couldn't lie that you'd never looked at him that way. Trying wouldn't hurt, would it?

Taglist: @bardi4l @fictionconnoisseur @thecraekenslover @brooklynscherry-z

[threepandas]

Bad End: Century Demons

The steam engine blasted vapor into the air. Cacophonous chatter from the crowds all around us, pressing like a physical weight. I truely did hate traveling. Granted, there was nothing for it, we were needed. Being their Majesty's Special Task Force and all. But STILL! Awful. Just, awful!

It was the pushing, really. The constant shoving. Flashs of insight into lives I wanted nothing to do with. That individual? Marriage was collapsing. This one? Had debts. The girl who just stepped on my foot, thought she was in love, but honestly? Any adult could tell you how badly it was going to end. He was using her.

Frankly, I wish we could walk. At this point? I would honestly take a flipping DONKEY! But nooooo! What has my husband decided to do? "Let's take the TRAIN, darling! It'll be an ADVENTURE! Save so much TIME!"

He's lucky I married him AT ALL. Fuck. I HAD options! Could have been a Baron's wife. Well-to-do! But NO, I wanted to HELP people. Like a FOOL. Gods, my mother was RIGHT! Cute air-heads WOULD be the death of-!

I finally spot Arthur, the sweet idiot, looking lost by our baggage. Map in hand. Like a confused puppy told to do arithmetic or be scolded, his anxiety is palpable. I gather my skirts and shove. Fuck being polite. Everyone ELSE seems to be fine, being stampeding herd animals. Why not I? Move!

"O-Oh thank goodness! Darling!" Arthur gasps, nearly dropping the map as he reaches for me as I get close. His eye are wide and his expression frazzled. Tone as though someone has been compressing his chest. "There are-! There are so many PATHS! I didn't-! And I-! Oh dear. W-what do we do? Darling, I can't-! It's so-!"

Damn it! I KNEW this would happen! This was an awful idea! Reaching for my husband's face, I cup his cheeks, propriety be damned. Pull him close to press his forhead against mine. Match my breath, dear. Focus, darling, just... focus. Close your eyes. You do not See. Curse crowded places and what they do to us. We should have moved to the countryside years ago.

But no, no Arthur would never leave his Sister. And I'll not leave him behind. Damn it all, why? WHY?

Why did she have to pick the Nobility Route?

It was bad enough, remembering this world "wasn't real". That it had a "plot" for Gods sake. Bad ENOUGH to realize that the monster under the bed very much WERE a real and present threat, that I SHOULD be concerned about. But fool that I am? Did I HAVE to fall in love with the Protagonist's brother? Sweet and foolish? A simple, if air headed man? Apparently!

All I could do, now, was try to protect him. Try and protect myself.

Ignore the nasty, judging looks, being sent our way. Piss off! The lot of you! I took no vows to YOU. Stood in no church! There us exactly ONE person in the train station I care about, and it is NONE of you, so keep your snide opinions to yourself! Breathe, Arthur. There we go, dear.

Pulling back slightly, I check his eyes. They flick and track things unseen. He is still unusually pale. He... he will be rather disappointed. He was excited to try the trains. To him? They are a bold new technology.

Maybe once we get farther from the city. Here, at least, he is drowning.

Then, a change. Sudden and swiftly building. Whatever Paths my husband traced were disappearing, narrowing, even as terror sweeped across his face. Only twice I had ever seen this before. Once, was an earthquake. The largest seen in over 400 years. The other? A bombing just before the royal wedding, we had been still engaged then. But the way he had frozen? Mid-sentence?

It is BURNED into my mind. Just like the horror that followed.

Bellowing, I command everyone to get out. Evacuate.

NOW.

But already... it is too late. Down the line of the train, terrible symbols flash into being. Molten red metal, on the side of the train cars themselves, instants before the BLOW. Unspeakable shrapnel bombs. Made of people and metal and MAGIC. The train cars lifted from the tracks by the knock back, smashing into fleeing crowds, even as the next car goes off. And then the next. And the next.

A writhing chain of death.

Like the dying spasms if a great snake.

My husband is frozen. No. As I drag him down? I realize with horror, worse. Seizing. It has NEVER been this bad! What is HAPPENING?! What Path is he SEEING that could cause such OVERLOAD? Terrified, I watch as thin trails of blood, seep from his eyes, his nose. Oh Gods. Oh GODS! Arthur? ARTHUR!

Love! Stay with me! Please! D-Darling, Please! Focus on my voice! You have to let them GO! Close your EYES, Arthur! Don't look! Please, DON'T LOOK! It's KILLING YOU!

"That's rather the point."

I stop. From on the ground, where I crawl. Dragging my unresponsive husband to safety. My gaze finally whips around to ahead of us. Amongst the chaos... stands a conductor. Pressed uniform clean and hair entirely too long. His eyes... oh Gods, his EYES. I do not need to touch him to know. That? THAT is not a human.

Not anymore.

Shrapnel flies harmlessly over us, but comes no where near him. As though where he stands is Forbidden to touch. All around him, those fleeing? Suffering? Do not notice him. Do not SEE. Yet, on instinct alone... avoid him.

Because, of course they do. B-because that?

That Is A Demon.

We weren't even remotely prepared for this. And even if we WERE. Everything is packed away. Pressed to the floor, all I can do? Is drag my husband close. Feel tear begin to fill my eyes and choke my throat, as I curse the Gods. Damn it. D-Damn it! I drag Arthur under me. A-as though... as though we were just... just resting at home. Cuddling, as we so often do.

I-It will be okay, darling. Come back to me. Arthur... Please...

(We promised to go together...)

"He really is useless, isn't he? Can't protect you. Couldn't warn you. Can't even die, where he's supposed to be. Really, how hard is it? To just get on the damned train? Quite inconsiderate, your worthless lump of a first husband. It really won't be hard, no doubt, to surpass him in every way."

I drag Arthur closer. Cradling his head to me chest. You'll have to go through ME, you fucking monster! It's.. it's a laughable defense. I'm tissue paper. We both are. With out supplies and the proper anti-demonics? H-he's going to SHRED us. But... but! I took a VOW.

Married this man.

I... I love him.

Even if he's not awake. Even if he's trapped in his own gifts by this BASTARD of a Demon. That's.. That's okay. I'm still here. W-We're still together. And I love him. Silly, ridiculous, air-headed fool that he is. My quite scholar. M-My best friend. I glare at the damnable creature before us.

"You really do have such lovely eyes." It notes, tilting it's head. "Does he appreciate them? Somehow, I doubt it. He makes you live in squalor, after all. Dresses you in rags and works you like an animal. You were meant for so much... more. I can feel it."

With a boneless grace he squats, bringing him closer even as I try to drag us away, he reaches out. One hand both perfectly human yet tipped with claws. In the distance, I hear doors being forced open. Commanding voices. Prayers and the glimpses of shining light. The Paladins are here.

Too late... I... I fear it is too late.

Demon skin touchs my face and I scream, as I am cast beneath the waves. It is so dark. Oh Gods. OH GODS. IT IS SO DARK. HELP ME. HELP ME! IT HURTS! It HuRtS! HELP M-!

"Shhh, drink deep and sink down, Love. I will be there to catch you. Forget about him. Forget about everything. You are made for so much more. We were meant to be together. Just let go, sweet."

"Just let go..."

[dangerpronebuddie]

#99....

This one turned out way sappier than I was expecting it to. Enjoy!😘

99. “You got a cute butt.”

“You got a cute butt.” Eddie whirls around to face Buck, who’s now staring at Eddie’s thighs, beer halfway to his lips. Eddie feels the tips of his ears burn red, along with his cheeks. “You’re drunk.” “And you still got a cute butt,” Buck says with a shrug, like what he said was just objective fact.  “Well sorry to stop your admiration, but I’m gonna go put some actual pants on,” Eddie says. He won’t look too closely at Buck’s words. He’s four beers in and halfway through his tale of the breakup he apparently just went through. His emotions are a mess. Eddie can’t read much into what he says. Right? “Why?” Buck practically whines. He sets his beer down and steps up and over the table like Eddie had done, but with a lot more grace than Buck is managing. “You’d still have a cute butt even with pants on, but…” He steps close to Eddie, his gaze raking over him, and this is a bad idea. A terrible idea. Buck is drunk and hurt and Eddie is tipsy and freefalling with no idea where he’ll eventually land, but he thinks he might be okay if he lands next to Buck.  “Buck,” Eddie says, turning to face him fully. He’s so close Eddie has to look up at him.  “I know who’s attention I wanted,” Buck says, his voice a husky whisper that makes Eddie shiver.  “You’ve got it,” Eddie says.  Buck reaches up and tugs at the upturned collar of Eddie’s shirt. “You’re my last,” he says, as if in awe.  Eddie remembers Buck telling him about Tommy’s words maybe two hours and two beers ago. His heart flips over in his chest. “You’re my only,” he admits.  And when Buck kisses him, the freefall stops. Eddie lands in Buck’s arms, safe, held, loved. Joy.

Send me a drabble prompt!

[carto0ncritter]

Abusive fictional fathers - Robotnik vs. Stolas

I won't be talking about Coconuts here since he's not on screen that much, but know that I feel sorry for the stuff he's been through, poor guy

Robotnik ⮕ Scratch & Grounder

Like... he literally only created these two to use and abuse them and that's crystal clear

When I say Robotnik is an abusive pos, this is what I mean (and this is just some of the physical abuse, don't even get me started on the emotional):

...Okay, that last picture was the last straw. Robotnik's thrist for power has officially outweighted Scratch and Grounder's "value." He felt 0 remorse for throwing them into the lava. Keep in mind, he THOUGHT HE HAD KILLED THEM and DIDN'T CARE AT ALL. Thankfully they were fine. And no the fact that they're robots doesn't make it any less wrong

If you're willing to sacrifice your children for a powerful artefact, then I'm (NOT) sorry to say this, but you're a heartless pos and deserve to be held accountable for your actions. If I were in Scratch and Grounder's shoes, I would have ran the hell away right then and there and found home elsewhere

However, unlike with Stolas and Octavia, at least the narrative doesn't try to convince us that Robotnik loves his sons. Because if he did, he would have tried to change his behavior. Or better, he wouldn't have abused them IN THE FIRST PLACE! AT ALL! No matter what he had gone through! I'm not denying that his mom was a pos to him just like he's a pos to scratch and grounder, but i refuse to see this as an excuse. he should have tried his best to break the cycle of abuse

*sigh* Now I've gotta talk about that stupid bird man... let's just get this over with.

Stolas ⮕ Octavia

Stolas is shown to have been there for Via in her childhood. although we never see them bond over anything, connect emotionally with each other or spend quality time together, we've only got this one nightmare scene. this was the only time stolas was shown to care about octavia

He did his best to calm her down and make her feel safe, then proceeded to break his promise for a booty call. For a childhood "friend" that his father bought for him 25 years ago.

And you're telling me how Stolas didn't realize that bringing Blitzø along in Loo Loo Land is uh... a bad idea that will make his daughter feel even worse?

I HATE the excuse that Stolas was "just clueless." Because anyone with the tiniest bit of common sense would come to the same conclusion: flirting with your booty call in front of your daughter who is a minor and going through emotional hell that happened because you cheated on her mother makes you a horrible and selfish father.

Even worse is that Stolas doesn't learn his lesson and once again neglects Octavia. Stolas is too busy hating his ex wife and gushing over his abuse victim that he can't even be bothered to look for his daughter himself, and instead Loona has to be the one to go find her. And then she literally tells Via how her dad's trying his best and how she should cut him some slack. No. No she shouldn't. Octavia was right to think that Stolas hates Stella more than he loves her because that's what his actions show.

He can hug her all he wants and promise to do better but he has done nothing to even TRY to be better for this poor girl.

Not to mention that Loona is a hypocrite. Blitzø has always been doing his best to be a good dad to her, and she thanks him for saving her life by being a complete bitch. It's been five. Fucking. Years. Of unconditional love and support from Blitzø's side. And what does he get in return? A kick in the balls. Blitzø also got beat up by her and hit with the "if I'm so terrible why don't you replace me" after he rightfully called her out and you're trying to tell me Blitzø was the one in the wrong and how this isn't abusive huh ok then whatever ya say

I won't talk about the upcoming episode much. I honestly just don't have the strength anymore. But to make it as short as possible, Stolas is gonna be treated like an uwu poor sad gay boi and once again choose Blitzø, the guy he r*ped, over his own child.

If you check out the leaked story boards for s2 ep12, you'll see how disgusting it is that Via is spitting nothing but facts and yet she'll be demonized by the writers, Stolas lovers and Stolitz shippers. Just...

Please stop lying, dude. Just stop. You shattered her entire life and neglected her for a guy you abused and never got to know on a level that's deeper than sex. No wonder Via thinks he doesn’t love her anymore. The line above gives me the same vibe as THIS line also they made Stolas not only ACT like a guy who victimizes himself but LOOK that way too

STOP LYING. JUST SHUT UP.

I hate this self-pitying hypocrite sm.

And yeah, I get it: he was put in an arranged marriage (this was clearly a retcon, but whatever floats viv's boat) despite being gay and was sheltered and never had friends, but those are explanations for his behavior, not excuses.

Oh and, to anyone who thinks otherwise: Emotional neglect is a form of abuse.

Closing Thoughts

One important thing that I noticed with both Scratch and Grounder and Octavia, is how none of them feel at home with their fathers. A reliable way to know whether you've failed as a parent or not is to see how your behavior affects your kid(s). How does your behavior make them feel?

Let's see here... *checks notes*

Octavia says how Stolas ruined their family, not Stella and in ep12 she's finally gonna call him out on his bullshit thank god. but unfortunately the toxic gay ship will once again be a priority because it's gay

Scratch and Grounder are terrified of Robotnik's wrath, he constantly makes them feel useless and unwanted, but at the same time, they have no problem betraying him both of them always come back to him, just like how Blitzø doesn't leave his abuser because he wants to feel "loved" and "needed" for once even though Stolas treats him like shit

So yeah, if you made your kid(s) feel this way, you've officially failed as a father.

[agoldengalaxy]

Goodnight, Moon

read on Ao3

words: 2976

“Where…am I?” Ford’s breath caught in his throat. It was exactly as he had expected, then. Fiddleford had warned him that this might happen; temporary lapses in memory, an unfortunate long-term effect of the memory gun. “Don’t worry, Stanford,” he had said the last time they spoke. “He’s not alone. He’s got you ta’ help him remember.”

--

A still, calm ocean met the dark sky on the horizon, littered with stars that reflected in the water below. If Ford took off his glasses, it was easy to blur the line between the two completely, like perhaps they were sailing along a star-studded sky instead, with a mission to land on the moon itself.

Ford almost scoffed at his own thoughts as he stood on the deck of the Stan o’ War II, his elbows against the railing. This wasn’t a thought an accomplished man with twelve PhDs would have. It reminded him of storybooks he used to have as a young child, the storybooks Stan and his mother liked to listen to him read aloud every Friday night.

Then again, he thought, smiling a little to himself as he removed his glasses, watching the sprawling blue in front of him blur into one big mess, his PhDs weren’t really his focal point anymore. And, perhaps, it wasn’t so terrible to think like a child again. With Stan by his side, it was hard not to feel like they were still ten years old, declaring themselves the Kings of New Jersey and sailing along the water. The only difference now was that they were actually fighting real monsters, not the ones they made up in their heads.

Ford placed the glasses back on his nose, feeling a shiver run down his spine. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing here, but the late night chill was relentless. Despite the fact that he would have liked to stand out here and stargaze for hours, he released a small sigh and turned around, stepping quietly back into their cabin.

The door slid shut with a soft click behind him, and he glanced toward the small living area, a fond smile easing its way onto his lips. Stan was asleep, a mess of limbs too long to fit on that old couch, more or less covered by a small knit blanket, his snoring quiet and steady. He’d fallen asleep watching Cash Wheel, and Ford had made sure the blanket was at least over his torso and the TV had been turned off before stepping out for some fresh air.

A month after Weirdmaggedon, and it was still quite a relief to see his brother. Ford often found himself thinking things were too good to be true, that he didn’t deserve Stan’s loyalty after everything that had happened, that maybe one day he’d wake up and Stan would be gone.

He sighed softly, still smiling a little to himself. The thoughts were unfounded, as silly as the childish thoughts he had earlier. Stan wouldn’t leave, because that just wasn't who Stan was.

After one last look, Ford moved toward the kitchen, intent on getting some water before turning in for the night, himself. It was certainly still a strange feeling, he thought, as he watched the faucet fill the glass steadily. To be able to sleep whenever he wanted, without fear of being hurt, or fear of hurting others. He grimaced at the memory of waking up on the roof of his house with blood pooling from his right eye, or from the countless sleepless nights he spent on the run from interdimensional beings intent on his destruction.

He turned off the tap and picked up the glass. The past was the past.

He’d almost been too deep in his thoughts to notice that the snoring had stopped in the other room, or to hear quiet, unintelligible swear words. Suddenly, Ford’s bad memories disappeared. He took his undrunk glass and stepped out of the kitchen. “I told you that your neck would end up quite sore if you -”

Almost unable to control it, Ford froze in place, his unfinished sentence hanging in the air. Alarm bells in his mind screamed at him as he looked at Stan, standing rigidly in the middle of the room. His eyes were wide, staring back at Ford like a deer caught in headlights, and it was so unlike Stan that it sent a shiver down Ford’s back.

What really scared him was that this exact expression reminded him of that day, back in the woods.

For a moment, they only stared at each other, seemingly unsure of who would speak first. Ford knew it should be him, he knew he had to ask, but it suddenly felt impossible, like he’d somehow swallowed his own tongue and hadn’t realized it. The silence seemed to stretch out for eternity, until Stan balled up his fists at his sides nervously.

“Where…am I?”

Ford’s breath caught in his throat. It was exactly as he had expected, then. Fiddleford had warned him that this might happen; temporary lapses in memory, an unfortunate long-term effect of the memory gun. Don’t worry, Stanford, he had said the last time they spoke. He’s not alone. He’s got you ta’ help him remember.

A part of him wanted to cry, another part of him wanted to scream and throw his glass at the wall. Instead, he knew he had to be there for him above all else. He cleared his throat, placing the glass down on the counter, and took a step closer. “You’re on the Stan o’ War II,” he answered as calmly as he could through a trembling voice. “Do you remember who you are? Do you…remember who I am?”

Panic flashed along Stan’s face, and it took every fiber of Ford’s being to stay infinitely still, to be the calm in the storm. Panicking along with him wouldn’t solve anything, despite the fact that it felt like his chest might cave in on itself.

Suddenly, Stan blinked, his eyes shining in the dim light. “You’re…my brother,” he managed, his voice strange and rough, like he didn’t even recognize it. He cleared his throat. “I don’t, um…I don't remember anything else.”

Ford forced air through his lungs, nodding quietly. It was temporary. He just had to be there for him, like Fiddleford said he should. The fact that he remembered that much, at least, had to be a good sign. “That’s right. I am your brother.” He took another step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, gentle enough that he could pull away if he wanted to - but instead, he leaned into it. “My name is Stanford, and…you are Stanley.”

“Stanford…” he repeated, drawing out the name like he was trying to hear how it sounded in his own voice. “Wait, we’re both -”

“Yes,” Ford huffed a laugh at the absurdity of hearing the reaction they got whenever they introduced themselves to someone new, from Stan himself. “Our parents weren’t very creative.”

“Yeah, seems like it.” They stood there for a moment, and Stan shifted his weight uncomfortably. “So…uh…what’s this Stan o’ War II? Some sorta secret base or somethin’?”

Despite the situation, Ford smiled. It was still so much like Stan it almost hurt. Gently, he began guiding him toward the door to the cabin. “Come, I’ll show you.”

The door swung open, and they both stepped out onto the deck, the late night breeze immediately ruffling their clothes and hair, the darkness all-encompassing. Starlight reflected in Stan’s eyes as he stepped forward in some disbelief, looking out at the sprawling ocean.

“Heh. The stars look…real bright in the water,” Stan murmured, and Ford couldn’t help but wonder if the amnesia had given him the opportunity to read Ford’s mind.

For a few long, stretched-out seconds, the only sound was the gentle crash of waves and a few stray birds that had yet to turn in for the night. Ford tried his best not to stare at Stan, not to overwhelm him. He stared out at the horizon again, but didn’t blur the lines this time. He let the clear picture span out before him - beautiful in its own way.

“Ford…”

The sound of his name almost startled him, but when he turned, he was much more startled by what he saw. “Stanley! Are you alright?!” A tear was rolling down Stan’s cheek, and out of anything that might have panicked Ford before, this was the top of the list. His brother didn’t cry. He reached forward, placing one hand on Stan’s shoulder, the other on his opposite arm. “W-What is it? Are you hurt?”

Ungracefully, Stan sniffled, giving him a watery smile. “We…we’re really adventuring together? After all this time…”

Ford had always thought himself a tough nut to crack, but he could feel his chest grow tighter with the pressure. Breathing became much harder, as if he were standing atop a high mountain. The burning in his eyes was something he had nearly forgotten the feeling of, but here it was, and he couldn’t tell if he liked it or hated it. He returned the smile, but when it felt like he wouldn’t be able to keep it on his face, he pulled Stan close, hugging him tight.

“Yes, Stan,” he breathed, shaking with the effort of trying to keep his eyes from leaking. “We are.”

Hands slowly came up to return the hug, and they stood there for a long while. They stood there until the shaking was replaced with shivering, and Ford drew back from the embrace, looking at the face that was so like his own, yet so different all the same.

“Come. We will get sick if we linger out here any longer.”

Stan didn’t argue, and together they stepped back into the warm cabin, wordlessly heading toward the couch. Despite the revelation he’d had before, Stan looked rather worn-out. “My head is pounding.”

“I suppose that’s part of the long-term effects…” Concernedly, Ford headed toward the counter where he’d left his glass and grabbed it. When he turned back around, Stan was staring at a framed picture on the wall. Ford carefully walked back to the couch, sitting down and placing the glass in Stan’s hands himself before lifting his gaze to the photo, too. “Our family.”

The picture showcased one of their last days in Gravity Falls. In front of the Mystery Shack, Stan wore a huge grin and had his arm slung around Soos, whose eyes sparkled with happy tears as he proudly wore the fez, almost too big for his head. Next to Soos, Wendy covered her mouth, laughing at Dipper, who was clinging onto Stan’s back, grinning as he tried to fake choke-hold him. Next to Stan, Ford beamed proudly while Mabel hung off of his flexed arm, pure joy on her face.

Ford chanced a glance toward the real Stan after a moment, who was staring at it with a fond, wistful smile on his face. “I miss those knuckleheads.”

Leave it to the kids to make Stan start to remember again, he thought, nearly smiling to himself. They’d done it before, and they’d keep doing it, he supposed. “So do I,” he agreed. “Perhaps…we should pay them a visit soon.”

Stan’s smile grew a little as he turned his gaze down to the glass in his hands. “Gotta make sure Soos hasn’t burned down the shack, or Wendy hasn’t made off with our register.” He took a few large gulps, as if he hadn’t drank in days. Somewhat relieved, Ford watched him drain the whole glass, wondering if he’d even realized he was beginning to get memories back again, bit by bit. Once he’d finished, Ford took the glass from him, placing it on the coffee table in front of them. Stan’s brow furrowed. “What, you’re not gonna tell me to put that in the sink?”

“Well, I -”

“You fight me about putting things where they should go every day, Poindexter!” Stan scoffed, getting to his feet to snatch the glass back up again, marching it to the kitchen. Astounded, Ford watched him go. It was true - Stan could be a bit of a slob and left things out all the time, whether it be clothes, glasses, shoes, or fishing lures. The last thing Ford wanted was the Stan o’ War II to end up looking the way his house had looked when Stan had been in charge of it, so they argued often about putting things away. 

Of all things to remember. Ford couldn’t help but chuckle a little to himself.

When Stan emerged from the kitchen again, he crossed his arms. “What?”

“Nothing, Stanley. Nothing.”

For a moment, it seemed like Stan was going to fight it, but then he shrugged and just took his place on the couch next to him again. “If ya say so.” He drummed his fingers on his knee, taking in their small cabin as if everything he looked at gave him a new memory.

While Stan looked around, Ford watched him, noticing the sagging in his shoulders, the slow blinking, the general restless movement. It was plain to see that his brother was exhausted from all the emotion, but the thought of suggesting he go to bed was out of the question. He couldn’t leave him now. He wouldn’t.

“Stanley…do you remember, when we were children, I would read you and Mom stories?”

Stan blinked at the question, slow recognition creeping onto his expression. “Oh, yeah. Mom said she liked hearing you read. She said you did good voices.” His brow furrowed. “Huh. I don’t remember ever hearing the endings.”

For once, the words ‘I don’t remember’ didn’t send a cold shiver down Ford’s spine, because he actually had an answer for that. “You’d usually fall asleep,” he said.

Stan’s cheeks flushed. “You remember that damn armchair! It was comfy!”

“Sure,” he chuckled. “Well, anyway…I was thinking about that earlier, actually. I don’t have any books, but I have plenty of stories from our childhood. Do you want to hear one?”

For a moment, Stan seemed to hesitate, then admitted defeat, leaning back against the couch with a huff and crossed arms. “Guess it beats the same things on TV. And I’m gonna hear the ending this time.”

Smiling, Ford leaned over to turn out the lamp, then leaned back against the couch too. “Very well. Hm…do you remember Crampelter?”

Stan’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, that slimy bastard who bullied us in grade school.”

“Right. He made fun of your demeanor and my polydactyly. For years, all we could do was get through each day. The teachers didn’t help us, and Mom was beside herself. Finally, Dad signed us up for boxing. I was terrible at it.” Stan smirked while he continued. “It was not for me. It took you a while, but eventually you got the hang of it, and we were told to ‘fight back’ if that bully came at us again.”

“Yeah, I remember. Wait, how exactly did we deal with him again?”

Ford grinned a little. “Ah, well…you ‘fought back’, as it were. During recess, you went inside to use the bathroom and he and his goons came over to torment me. They called me names, took my glasses, laughed at the special six-fingered gloves that Mom had knit for me. In my head, I knew I should do what Dad told us to. I knew I should just shove him back so he’d finally leave me alone. But…I was too scared. I couldn’t do it.” He shook his head, remembering how small he’d felt back then. “They were about to break my glasses when I heard your voice.”

Stan tilted his head, seemingly interested to hear what happened next. Perhaps this memory was too long gone.

“You marched right over, demanding that Crampelter return my glasses at once. I remember him laughing, taunting you, asking what you were going to do about it when you landed a swift punch to his groin. He dropped the glasses and I scrambled to pick them up while his friends stood in stunned silence. He seemed to be in too much shock and pain to do much else, other than give you a weak, high-pitched threat before waddling off in another direction. Later, I heard from one of the girls that he stood in the corner of the playground and cried.”

“Hah! Sucker got what he deserved!” Stan laughed, seemingly quite proud of himself.

Ford smiled, shaking his head. “Of course, that stunt suspended you for two days. Mom had a few choice words to say to the principal, but I know that  she and Dad were pretty proud of you for standing up for me.”

Stan’s expression softened as he looked up at his brother, a slew of emotions betrayed behind his tired eyes for a quick second. “Yeah, well. Getting beat up is one thing. Letting them hurt my brother is out of the question.”

“Yes…I think you said something like that to the principal,” Ford responded, feeling oddly touched even all these years later. As Stan yawned, he continued. “Do you remember the day we found the original Stan o’ War?”

Through another yawn, Stan nodded. “I got a lotta splinters.”

Ford continued sharing stories, knowing that eventually, their childhood habits would return - and sure enough, before he could finish his third story about their junior prom, Stan’s head lolled onto his shoulder, sleeping completely soundly. Quietly, Ford trailed off, careful not to move too much, and placed the blanket over them both.

It reminded him of the week after Weirdmaggedon, spending nights together on the couch because Ford couldn’t bring himself to leave him, though it was different all the same. Things wouldn’t ever be perfect for them, he knew, as he gently pulled Stan’s glasses off to place them on the table, but they’d always have one constant now. Each other.

He took off his own glasses and relaxed into the couch, Stan’s warmth and soft breaths easily and quickly lulling him to sleep.

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Eps 28-29 Speedrun...

I'm trying to play catch up after falling behind a bit, so here's just a highlight reel/speedrun (as much as I can speed...which is not very much tbh). The meta has dwindled down to nothing; I do apologize. This is very much just reaction-based. Also, I'll probably have to stay out of the tag once the express episodes come out, unless the site I'm watching on uploads those eps too.

Spoilers incoming!

Ep 28

Heh. ZYC's plausibly deniable jealousy is back and boy have I ever needed it. His cursing better be more intense now that he's basically confessed to ZYZ several times over lmao. And oh how precious he is, taking Ying Lei's ice marks comment seriously enough to double check his neck.

Ah. Watching WX's convo with Princess Longyu while knowing what happens in ep 29, the irony of her lie about being poisoned...Good (and terrible) stuff...

Oh god oh dear I was watching the whole acting ordeal through my fingers with preemptive second-hand embarrassment for ZYC. The moment WX pulled out her little booklet but we were cut off from seeing the msg, I knew, esp given the very pointed shots of the fish right before their whole convo haha. Not bad of a set-up imo, more subtly natural than usual which I like since I prefer explanatory flashbacks to have a bit more premeditation baked into the original scene for viewers to pick up on in real-time, which this show doesn't always do.

But oh my. I have to say this. I apologize in advance but it's in my damn handle so forgive me but—ZYC is so fucking lovely when sulky and embarrassed. I'm smitten. I had seen the director post those shots of TJR all dramatically lit and beautifully framed months ago and I had no idea it was going to be used for this. And this is coming off the heels of the previous episode's mpreg joke, which I'm still not over. This show's commitment to flustering ZYC's character needs to be studied and replicated in fanfics. Who said that? Not me. Anyway.

I've seen mixed reactions to ZYC not being in on the acting, but just for me personally, I like that it wasn't intentional for them to leave him out, and I really am glad to have heard his honest feelings in that moment. It felt significant to see him make that decision against even the rest of their family, and I'd personally rather it come out while the rest of them are playing at discord than actually seeing them fight internally just to witness ZYC draw his ultimatum so genuinely and seriously. It feels like yet another moment where the narrative is creatively committing subtext into text for us and for ZYZ to hear, without having to torment us with somehow worsening the stakes within their group to the extent that would elicit such a reaction.

WZY and Chongwu Camp really invest in a lot of latex skin huh?

Oh my god I love that PSJ sucks at acting too. Her panic at having to pretend lmfaooo. Also, this gets at something I really should have realized much earlier on, but the way ZYC and PSJ have so many similarities in disposition and belief, and also how WX and ZYZ overlap a lot in their inclination for acting and playful tricks and teasing—I love that. WX and ZYC each gravitating towards respectively familiar personalities in romantic partners, which actually very much happens irl. Basically seeking out personalities similar to their comforting (pseudo-)familial bonds. Also explains why I love both ZYC and PSJ so much.

Lmfao Ying Lei's theme song kicking in as he volunteers to hold onto the dragon scale really does get me. His song captures his character so well.

Any day I get to watch TJR inception-act as Ao Yin acting as ZYC is a good day for me. That little snarl of a reaction after Ying Lei pulled out his weapon is some good shit. I love that even the texture of his voice and the cadence of his line delivery is different (the stark contrast when actual ZYC shows up in the next scene is *chef's kiss*). And he is uniquely suited for batting his eyelashes, I must say.

Okay! Onto Ep 29:

First ZYC forgets how to count when he calls them a group of five...now ZYZ tricks Ying Lei into giving his all to protect an empty box...when will the grievances against Ying Lei end?

My live reaction to finding out WX's been fatally poisoned: ZYZ, ZYC, Bai Jiu, and WX passing around the hot potato of mortality.

I'm glad for some more emotional development on the Li Lun!Bai Jiu front! I feel like he's been on the back burner for a bit with the ZYC demonizing (which he caused anyway, lol). I am certainly intrigued by Ying Lei being around to hear Li Lun!Bai Jiu's monologue and what this may lead to. And it's been said but LZY (Bai Jiu's actor) does soooo well here it's such a great watch.

Also...Li Lun wants a roof (well, technically, eaves) to shelter from the rain and a lamplight in the dark? Sounds like a throuple with ZYC and ZYZ really might fix him tbh.

Justice for WX in ZYC's flashback from two years ago. She does not say "Are you stupid?" but more along the vibe of "Don't be silly" as she and ZYC discuss his snake bite. The subs are too literal here it makes her sound so out of pocket lmao

God I'm so glad PSJ slapped all of WX's will to live back into her in ep 27 because yes girl!!! Fight for your right to live!! Also, speaking of, where tf is PSJ ): Her girl is dying, why doesn't she get any screen time to react? Do I assume she knows or not?

But yay! The contract ripping was cute. As an aside, I do wish I personally felt enough of a spark between ZYZ and WX to ship them on my own because the writing is there for their pairing to be pretty solid. Like I've said before, they're sweet and good together but they just don't rot my brain. I wonder what's missing for me because I honestly like their acting much more than I expected to. Perhaps it could also be a matter of contrast, as some dynamics in the web of relationships stand out to me in terms of chemistry more than others, even if we're not talking strictly romantic (I mean, I'm of the belief that TJR could have chemistry with a brick wall if he wanted to). Anyway though, I'm going off topic. ZYZ and WX cute (and tragic)!

I gasped at ZYC going to meet WZY. That's what I call desperate measures.

Ha, ZYZ asking ZYC to protect him while he's weakened from the Ever-Burning Wood reminds me of CQL c:

Yooooooo ZYC grabbing the newly reforged Cloud Light Sword and all that gorgeous light. What a hero. Smitten, I say.

Ohhhh the Li Lun/ZYC superimposed images, the way I was holding my breath and worried for a second that ZYZ would call ZYC by the wrong name !!!! That's some legit ex-vs-current-lover storytelling like whew. But I needed ZYC to catch ZYZ a little better than that when he fell like embrace the man already pls

The cave scene!!!!! I'm looking through my fingers. I feel like I'm intruding. How many jade pendants does ZYC have on his person for ZYZ to drink at any given moment? And oh wow something about the framing of ZYC's hand on the wine bottle as he mixes it—what an intimate ritual. Feels like I watched ZYC make three separate confessions just seeing him pull out the jade, mix the drink for ZYZ, and hold it out to him with his eyes averted...And then he goes and lays his heart bare (again! once more on top of the conversation in ep 26 like he is really not letting any chance of misunderstanding arise he is trying to show his hand as much as possible wow). But yeah who's gonna gif the wine mixing for me?

Fuckkkk, they're zhiji, they said it, I'm going insane.

I love ZYZ's pause right before he drinks the first cup. Watching the gravity of this moment and ZYC's absolute sincerity hit him, settle on him. Such a meaningful and significant breath between actions. Like, we are allll aware of how serious this is.

ZYC holding intense eye contact while drinking the second cup??? Uh??? I really should be turning away now right? And ZYZ's stare back is truly indistinguishable from his openly loving looks at WX. I am on the floor.

All of ZYC's toasts are about ZYZ being a savior of some kind ;-;

Another live reaction: WHEN DID ZYC BECOME A SURGEON THEY JUST DID SURGERY ON ZYZ'S CORE IM CRYING.

ZYC most dramatic surgeon I've ever seen did you see the way his hair caught the wind? God but his nonchalance is killing me. Yes why not bare your heart and soul over some wine you mixed specifically for ZYZ and then operate on ZYZ's core in one sitting? All in a night's work I guess. Also ZYZ's still recovering from the Ever-Burning Wood oh my god someone take ZYC's license away what is this medical malpractice. Bai Jiu is out of commission for a little bit and all of a sudden everyone thinks they're a doctor smh.

All I have to say about the WZY meeting is sometimes I get so distracted by ZYC's eyelashes. Also goodbye and good riddance WZY! Unless the drama decides to pull a fast one on us, which is never beyond the realm of possibility here. But at least he burned.

PSJ is back :D Head empty except for how pretty her red cape is.

Ouuugh Li Lun who is constantly possessing people and obsessively making others look at the real him and Ao Yin who is constantly impersonating people and now asking to be remembered for how she actually looks. What a pair, I can see why they stuck together all this time. Also Ao Yin's true form is so pretty. Girl I know you killed a bunch of people and continuously framed our heroes and caused so so so much heartache for them but I'll remember your true form dw )-:

The borrowed sympathy Li Lun gets while in Bai Jiu's body is quite poignant and so complicated and tbh I want more of it. As someone who doesn't want him to go down this unfortunate path any further, I have hopes about the potential there, but it's probably safer to expect the worst.

Not sure if this more surface-level commentary is still fun to read, but this will probably be all I have time for from now til the end. And since I'll be staying out of the tag soon, it'll just be me shouting into the void for the next few days. Thanks to anyone still sticking around and reading these!

Also sorry I don't add more photos on the regular, I'm watching the show in pretty shitty resolution and on a player than is awful to screenshot from (-:

[eunsuri]

Perspective on Solas/Mythal regrets and grief

Trigger warning: Death and grief

I've seen a lot of people complaining about Solas being too hung up on Mythal and the fact that he has so many regrets tied to her, and believing that he loves Mythal more than Lavellan.

I don't believe this to be true, as we've been told by Trick Weekes that this is not the case.

However, i also wanted to offer a quick piece of perspective on the situation that has really helped me to understand Solas' pain and why he is doing what he is.

Imagine that you had a very dear friend since childhood, your first friend, that has maybe guided you, given advice and been there for you, and you have been close with them your entire life growing up. Imagine everything you may have done with that friend, creating memories, sometimes good and sometimes bad.

Imagine this friend introducing you to someone or something that looks promising, or an idea that could change the world. You believe in this friend and they ask you to help them with this. You start to notice that things aren't what they seem, that the things you are doing to help this friend achieve this great outcome have involved some terrible things.

You see that this is wrong, but you love and respect your friend so much, you believe in their cause and want this great outcome. But you start to see them going down a slippery slope and you want to turn them away from this thing that's dangerous for them. Your friend considers your words, but they're enthralled with this vision and believe what they are doing is right. They ignore your request and keep going with this thing.

You can see how dangerous this is, so you beg them to come with you and get away from this terrible thing, you know they could get hurt or die in the process, but they continue to go on and end up getting killed.

Imagine the pain and regret you would feel, the feeling that you have failed to protect your friend when you had the chance even though you had tried and now they're gone. You went down this path with them, you had the chance to save them and were unable to pull them out, now it's too late.

You reach the anger stage of your grief and have the opportunity to avenge your dear friend, and you take it. As the years go by, the world around you then changes, turning to the opposite of what your friend may have wanted, but you have the power to change this. Though it's risky, you have the power to fix things and make up for your failure to protect your friend, and make the world better like they wanted. Even if it's been years, the thoughts and regrets plague your mind, knowing that you may have been able to save them, and that instead you could now change things to what they would have wanted.

That is Solas. That is why Solas is filled with regret and wants to right his wrongs, especially after knowing the terrible things he has also done. He wants to make things right, fix the world to how Mythal would have wanted it.

People deal with grief in different ways, some are able to work through their grief completely and move on with their lives, while some struggle for years and years and it consumes them. I believe that due to the Elves also previously being spirits which embodied a single emotion, they feel things very deeply in their physical forms, and that is part of why Solas' grief and regret could have such a firm hold on him. There wouldn't be therapists, psychologists, and counsellors like we have to help us work through these things.

As someone who has lost a very dear childhood friend way too soon myself, I still think about her often. It's been over 10 years, and while I've moved on with my life and don't wallow in my grief, she still crosses my mind. I still wonder if she felt that I failed to help her in her time of need. If I had the opportunity to go back and save her from the things that caused her so much pain, I would. If I could change the world to be better, in the way I know she would have wanted, I would.

I don't condone Solas' actions of course, tearing down the veil and killing many more people in the process is definitely not something I would want to happen to Thedas. But I empathise with him, his grief, and the regrets he has in regards to Mythal, regardless of the manipulative nature of their relationship.

As Trick has told us, Solas loves Lavellan and she is the bright future he believes he does not deserve until he fixes his mistakes and moves past his regret. He doesn't love Mythal more, he is eaten up by his failure and wants to fix his mistakes, no matter how much it destroys him.

He's more hung up on his failure and his mistakes, rather than Mythal herself. He was under her service, and he needed her to free him in order to move on from his grief, so that he could be free to atone and to love Lavellan, his bright future.

[halimamis]

Writing Foreshadowing in Fiction part 2

Dialogue that Means More Later

A clever line of dialogue can seem completely innocent at first but gains significance as the story progresses. This is a great way to slip in foreshadowing without slowing down the plot. However, avoid making the line too cryptic or obviously prophetic.

Example: In "Breaking Bad", there’s a moment when Hank (a DEA agent) jokes about Walt (the protagonist) secretly being a drug kingpin. It’s played off as a joke at the time, but later, when Hank finds out Walt *is* the drug kingpin, the line takes on a whole new meaning. The beauty of this kind of foreshadowing is that it seems like casual banter—until it’s not.In your story, a character could casually say, “I’ve always been terrible at keeping secrets,” early on. Later, this foreshadows a moment when they accidentally reveal something crucial or betray someone without meaning to.

Misdirection and Red Herrings

Sometimes, foreshadowing works best when paired with misdirection. You plant hints that could point to several outcomes, but the reader only realizes which one was true in hindsight. This keeps them guessing and makes the actual reveal more satisfying. You could use misdirection by making readers think one character is going to betray the protagonist (through small suspicious actions) but later reveal that it’s actually another character who has been betraying them all along, and the first character was innocent.

Dreams and Visions

If you’re writing a genre that allows for it—like fantasy, sci-fi, or even psychological thrillers—foreshadowing can come through dreams, visions, or hallucinations. These can be vague and symbolic or eerily accurate, but they should always leave readers wondering whether they’re really seeing the future or just imagining things.

Example: In "The Hunger Games", Katniss has a recurring image of Rue dying that foreshadows Rue’s eventual fate. It’s presented as a fear at first, but it becomes a heartbreaking reality. The dream sets up the reader’s emotional reaction to Rue’s death before it happens.

I'm about to finish right now, don't lose focus. These are some final things you want to be careful of...

Repeat Without Overdoing It: A symbol or piece of dialogue can appear more than once, but avoid hammering it into your reader’s head.

Use Different Methods: Mix it up—foreshadow through symbols, dialogue, character actions, and even setting. This way, your story feels layered and engaging.

Balance: Too much foreshadowing can spoil the twist. Too little can leave readers confused. Find the sweet spot where readers feel satisfied when they finally connect the dots.

If you haven't read part 1, make sure to check it out here!

[fear-is-truth]

𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐆 … rodrick heffley — loser!bf headcanons

tags — fem!reader﹒sfw + nsfw﹒headcanons

loser bf!rodrick, who makes a huge show of pda whenever his brother is around. he’ll sling his arm around your shoulder and be like, “yeah, greg. my girlfriend. isn’t she hot?” greg is still fully convinced rodrick’s paying you to be his fake girlfriend, though he has no idea where he’s got the money.

loser bf!rodrick, who lets you sit in on band practice and tries so hard to keep it together, but the second his bandmates start flirting with you, he completely falls apart. his drumming gets so off-tempo that they have to stop and start over.

loser bf!rodrick, who lent you his algebra textbook and completely forgot he’d been doodling your name with his last name all over the margins. when you handed it back, smirking, he looked like he wanted to die.

loser bf!rodrick, whose idea of a date is a night drive to the gas station, where you both load up on slushies and hot dogs. you sit in the parking lot and steal bites off each other’s food (even though you have the same toppings)

loser bf!rodrick, who awkwardly asked his mom to use the “nice-smelling” laundry detergent on his shirts because he knows you like to steal them after having sex and he doesn’t want you thinking he’s gross.

loser bf!rodrick, whose mom acts like you’re already part of the family, offering you snacks and calling you “sweetie” every time you visit. she loves to (unintentionally) embarrassing her eldest son by showing you all of his baby pictures. all the while rodrick hides in the basement.

loser bf!rodrick, whose dad corners you during family dinners and awkwardly tries to sell you on how “rodrick is really a fine young man, despite, uh… some quirks.” you just nod politely while rodrick sits there, sinking into his chair with a beet-red face.

loser bf!rodrick, whose bandmates are constantly making moves on you, asking if you “need anything” during practice or offering to carry your stuff. rodrick will get so pissed that he threatens to kick them out of the band. you think it’s hilarious how defensive he gets.

loser bf!rodrick, who always gives you the front seat in his van, no questions asked. greg has to squish in the back with the instruments, too bad lol.

loser bf!rodrick, who pretends to be terrible at eyeliner just so you’ll do it for him. in return, he paints your nails—or you can also paint his (in exclusively black).

loser bf!rodrick, who acts reluctant whenever you drag him into photobooths at the mall. the two of you end up making the dumbest faces before you lean in and kiss him right on the mouth… with tongue.

loser bf!rodrick, who lets you doodle on his arm with a sharpie, and he refuses to wash them off. they stay there until they fade completely.

loser bf!rodrick, who finally starts wearing deodorant consistently because of you. it’s not even something you asked him to do—he just noticed you sniffing his shirts a little more critically and panicked. now, he’s always freshly applied before seeing you.

loser bf!rodrick, who gets hard every time you kiss him.

loser bf!rodrick, who tries his best to keep his room somewhat presentable whenever you come over. he knows it’s still a fucking disaster by normal standards, but for rodrick, clearing a path to the bed is a grand romantic gesture.

loser bf!rodrick, who’s obsessed so with seeing your hickeys on him. he never bothers to hide them—in fact, he wears them like badges lol.

loser bf!rodrick, who almost accidentally used the wrong side of the condom when you had sex for the first time.

loser bf!rodrick, who absolutely melts when you tug on his hair during sex. he didn’t even realise he had a thing for it until the first time you did it. now, he practically begs for it without using words, tilting his head back and grinning like a total idiot whenever your fingers get close.

loser bf!rodrick, who keeps every random thing you’ve ever given him — notes you’ve passed to him in class, concert tickets, even candy wrappers.

loser bf!rodrick, who hates being bossed around but will do anything you ask, especially if it involves you kissing his cheek or ruffling his hair in thanks. he’s so whipped and everyone knows it.

loser bf!rodrick, who brags to greg about how sexy and smart and pretty you are, just to rub it in, but secretly feels like he doesn’t deserve you. he gets this dumb, soft look on his face whenever you’re around, like he still can’t believe you chose him.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[callme-dickmaster]

Basket Case

Ch. Five - The Body

summary: a search for a missing friend makes you believe in monsters and a body is found cw: this may be v long, afab! reader, minimal use of y/n, bullying, language, fear of slut shaming, cutesy makeover, will died lol author's note: hullo

Wednesday, November 9th, 1983

You followed Nancy into Steve's backyard, feeling completely out of place. Nancy had you slamming on your brakes when she gasped and saw Barb's car still parked a couple houses away from Steve's. Nancy looked in the windows and you picked the lock on the trunk before popping it open. Nothing. Just a blanket and some shoes.

"Barb!" Nancy called, turning every which direction as she yelled her friend's name. She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Come on. Steve's house is down the hill," Nancy said, leading you to the house.

"Nancy!" you hissed, jogging to catch up to her. "Steve would kick my ass if he knew I was here!" you whispered. Nancy nodded, mumbling something about how they'd be quick. "Barb?" Nancy called, stepping into the trees. "Barbara?" You tried, turning in circles.

You turned to tell Nancy you would go back to wait in the car when a large creature snarled, skittering across the path and disappearing behind a bush. "Shit!" you yelped. Nancy tripped trying to run away, and both of you booked it back to your car in the street. "Did you see that?!" you screeched, starting the car but too shaken to drive. "Yeah!" Nancy cried, dropping her head into her hands.

"C-can you take me home? I-I need to tell my mom..." she stuttered, tears starting to fall. You nodded, speeding away to Nancy's house. "I hope Barb is okay," you tried, glancing at the very upset girl in your passenger seat. Nancy nodded, looking out the window. "Me too..." you pulled up outside the Wheeler home and followed Nancy inside.

"Hey! You're home early! How was the game?" Mrs. Wheeler asked, stirring something up for dinner. She looked up at the silence and dropped the spoon seeing Nancy's tear-stained cheeks and Y/n Henderson in her front entryway. "Nancy? Girls, what's the matter?" the woman asked.

"It's Barb...I think something happened. Something terrible," Nancy cried. Mrs. Wheeler came up and hugged her daughter, putting a hand on your arm and inviting you to stay for dinner. You reluctantly agreed, running out to the car to grab your bag.

When you came inside, Nancy was in full blown tears and Mrs. Wheeler was on the phone. "You alright?" you asked, sitting next to her.

Nancy shook her head, "I'm so scared to tell her what happened...I feel like she's going to be so mad," she cried. You took her hand, glancing at Mrs. Wheeler in the other room, and wrapped an arm around Nancy's shoulders.

"She'll have to get over it. It was just one night. I mean, if that's the one thing she takes away from whatever you tell her, then that's on her. Right now, we just need to focus on trying to help your friend," you said. Nancy sniffed and nodded. She was so nervous about what her mom would say. She really didn't want to be slut shamed by her own mother. You ran your hand up and down Nancy's back, screwing your mouth to the side. You really didn't have much to say, and you felt bad about it.

Mrs. Wheeler thankfully interrupted when she walked back into the room. "Okay, the Hollands are coming over after dinner. Nancy, please talk to me...what's going on?" Mrs. Wheeler asked. Nancy's eyes automatically when to the floor. "C-can we wait? Until Barb's parents get here?" Nancy stuttered. Mrs. Wheeler nodded, patting her daughter's knee before she started dinner.

Nancy led you upstairs to her room and sighed, falling back on her bed. "I'm so scared. I...I feel like I could've done something to stop this from happening," she said, dragging her hands down her face. You nodded, sitting behind her on the bed.

"Yeah...I think we should just wait until her parents come over to worry too much about it. Just be honest with them and they'll have to appreciate that at least," you said, messing with your sleeve. Nancy nodded, taking a deep breath. "Let's do something fun! Keep my mind off it," she said, sitting up and rifling around in her vanity drawers. You cocked your head to the side when she popped back up with a makeup bag in hand.

"You ever had a makeover?" Nancy smiled.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head frantically, scooting back on the bed while Nancy jumped to sit in front of you. "It'll be fun! Come on..." Nancy took out various brightly colored palettes and brushes and started playing with her makeup on your face.

"See? You look pretty. It's easier to see your eyes when you don't have all that black shit on them," Nancy giggled.

"Hey, I like that black shit," you smiled.

"Girls! Dinner!" Mrs. Wheeler called. You and Nancy both sighed, trudging downstairs for whatever home cooked American dinner Nancy's mom came up with. "Oh! Y/n! You did your makeup!" Mrs. Wheeler grinned.

You shrugged, biting into your potatoes, "Nancy did it," you smiled shyly. Mrs. Wheeler complimented you, saying you "looked beautiful" which earned another shy smile and a shrug.

Barb's parents came right as Mrs. Wheeler was finishing the dishes and Mr. Wheeler was about to doze off in his chair. Nancy took your hand, silently begging you to sit with her while they talked. You sighed and sat next to Nancy and Mrs. Holland. You held the girl's hand as she cried and told the whole story. Even when Mike came in and gave them the news that Will was dead. That he was there, and he saw them pull his body out of the quarry.

"Where's Dustin?" You asked, standing from the couch.

"I-I think h-he went home," Mike sniffled. You stuttered out something about having to leave and ran out the door to your car. You sped home and barely slammed the car door shut before you were inside.

"Dustin?! Hey! Dustin!" you yelled, running around the house trying to find him. "Y/n?" you heard your little brother say in the smallest voice you'd ever heard. You sighed in relief, running over to wrap him in a tight hug.

"Mike told me...I'm so sorry, Dustin," you whispered. Dustin gripped onto your shirt, burying his face in your neck. "C-can I sleep with you tonight?" he mumbled. You nodded, pushing back his curls, "Of course you can. Have you eaten? Do you want me to make something?" you asked.

Dustin smiled half-heartedly and nodded, going to get ready for bed while you made something quick. You slid his plate across the counter and set yours aside so you could get ready yourself.

"Ready?" you asked.

Dustin nodded, finishing the last of his late dinner. You pat his back, setting the dishes in the sink before leading him to your room. You smoothed his curls away from his face, lying next to him with a soft smile. "It sucks. I know. But he'll be okay wherever he is, okay?" you said softly.

Dustin nodded sadly, curling in close to you before eventually falling asleep. You squeezed your eyes shut and held him tightly in your arms, thankful selfishly in the back of your mind it wasn't your brother they pulled out of the water.

<3

[justinspoliticalcorner]

By now, every pundit in America has their own 2024 election take, mostly confirming their prior opinions. Every Republican has a take, too, which is that Americans voted resoundingly for — well, for whatever policy that Republican cares about, from opposition to transgender rights to support for prayer in schools. And of course, progressives, especially younger ones, have every right to feel afraid, angry, or alienated. But the data tells a specific story, not a choose-your-own-adventure. And that is that swing voters voted mostly out of economic insecurity and discontent. They actually liked Kamala Harris more than Donald Trump (Harris’ favorability was 48 percent, compared to 44 percent for Trump). But Harris was the incumbent, and incumbents don’t win elections when people think the economy is bad. This is not just an American phenomenon. As the Financial Times reported, in every developed country in the world, the incumbents lost this year. This is unprecedented. If, like me, you’re being kept awake at night thinking about this election, this explanation helps. Yes, people were willing to put up with Trump’s criminality, coup attempts, and extreme xenophobia, and that is still terrible. Many were also on board with scapegoating immigrants for our economic woes, which is as factually preposterous as it is morally offensive.  But they didn’t vote for MAGA. They didn’t vote against women, or wokeness, or coastal elites, or climate regulation, or government regulation in general, or queer people. Not directly, anyway. They voted against the incumbent party, like every other developed country in the world this year. The shock waves from the Covid-19 pandemic — inflation, empty shelves, housing prices — are global, and this is a global trend. Everywhere in the world, voters have chosen to throw the bastards out because of the economy.  In fact, if you look closely at the Financial Times data, Trump actually did worse than most other non-incumbents. Yes, he won a clear victory. But it was not as big a victory as parties in France, Italy, or even New Zealand.  [...] So what happens when the emperor is revealed to have no clothes — or even worse, the garb of the same financial “elites” he claims to be against? Obviously, the MAGA faithful will stay with Trump no matter what — after all, his failure to bring about revolution in 2017 spawned the QAnon conspiracy theory, which said he was really about to do it, any day now. But the economic voters that gave him his victory could abandon Trump if he can’t deliver results. And he cannot. While Trump is busy trying to throw his enemies in jail, he has no plan — not even “concepts of a plan” — for the kitchen-table concerns that actually put him into office. Maybe, just maybe, voters will see they’ve been conned. That is the best we can hope for.

Jay Michaelson for Rolling Stone on Donald Trump and how he'll make America worse off (11.11.2024).

Jay Michaelson wrote in Rolling Stone that some of who voted in Donald Trump due to “muh economy” or “muh grocery costs” could be in for a shock.

[1toreyouapart]

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on. I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

Masterlist

8-Noah

Noah watched as Lily walked as close to the edge as she could without risking falling and stared down at the city below her. His heart felt like it was about to break through his ribs it was pounding so hard, his breath coming in short spurts. He hated when she did that. One wrong move and she was gone forever. Clearly that part of her hadn't changed over the last five years. Always pushing her limits. Putting herself in danger.

"Lilith. Come away from the edge, please." He tried and failed to hide the fear in his voice.

"It's fine, Noah. I've got a fall zone."

"Not enough of one. Please, Bambi?" Noah begged, his palms sweaty. She was hell bent on giving him a heart attack. Had to be.

Lilith slowly turned around, making sure he saw her roll her eyes before she walked back towards the bench. And no matter how much he wanted to be frustrated with her, he couldn't help but smile at her sass. God, he had missed her sassy fucking attitude. Missed the way she rolled her eyes when he stopped her from doing something that could get her hurt or worse. The way she would always have some quip at the ready when he pushed her buttons just right.

She turned around, standing beside him, gazing out at the city from a much safer distance. He watched as she took a long, slow, deep breath in, the tension leaving her shoulders as she exhaled just as slowly. There it was. His favorite thing about coming up there with her. That one breath she would take where all her stress seemed to just melt away. Sure, it was a busy trail, but it had the most breathtaking view of the city and she had instantly fallen in love with it when they first moved out there.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," he started.

"Thinking? You?" She feigned shock, a slight smile curving her lips.

"Brat." He laughed, nudging her with his elbow. "But, yes. Remember when we first came up here?"

"You mean when I had to persuade you with the promise of letting you teach me to play guitar?" She side eyed him, wary of where he was headed with this. "And then you decided going on this hike wasn't so bad after all when you saw this killer view?"

Noah smirked, looking down at her. The guitar lessons never did actually go anywhere. Every time he had tried it turned into them doing absolutely unholy things that would make even Satan himself blush. Which, now that he thought about it, may have been entirely her intentions to get out of it. There was no way someone needed that much hand on help with a guitar.

"Guitar lessons. Sure." He watched as her cheeks turned pink and had to bite back the laugh that nearly escaped him. "You have this thing you do when you're up here. There's always me begging you to step away from the edge, you pretend to be annoyed by it. And then you take this almost terrifyingly long breath. By the end of that breath it's almost like all your stress is gone." He looked back out at the city. "That's why I kept bringing you back here."

He let his words hang in the air, letting her digest them. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure why he felt like he had to tell her that. That hadn't been a part of the plan. The plan had been to come back up there with her so he could selfishly spend some time with her. And he knew being at hers and Sadie's place or his place would be too intimate of a setting for her right then. No way would she have agreed to that.

"I, uhm, didn't know that." Her voice was quiet, just barely loud enough for him to hear her.

"I guess now you do."

He looked back down at her, shocked to find her looking up at him, she'd tears threatening to spill over. There he went, making her fucking cry again. Like an asshole.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make you cry. Goddamn it. We can, uh, head back now if you want."

Lilith shook her head, quickly wiping her tears away. Rather than answer him she moved over to the bench, sitting down to look out over the city a little longer. She patted the bench next to her, a silent invitation for him to sit with her. One he happily obliged. Carefully he leaned back, stretching his arm along the back of the bench behind her.

"Noah?"

"Hmm?" He hummed his response, keeping his eyes fixed on the city below them.

"Why did you bring me here today?"

"Honest answer? Because I'm being selfish. I wanted to spend some time with you, and didn't think you would be up for a movie night." He chuckled, jumping slightly when she scooted closer, fitting herself against his side, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you. Even if it was for selfish reasons."

The two of them sat there in a somewhat comfortable silence, neither feeling the need to speak. Just a quiet understanding shaping around them. Somehow this one small, totally selfish act had gotten him to a point where maybe he could really start to make amends with her. And no way was he about to ruin it by sticking his foot in his mouth.

"When did you figure out the thing with the guitar lessons?"

"Just a couple minutes ago." Noah laughed, realizing just how gullible he had been.

"Seriously? It's not like I was sneaky about it!" Lilly laughed, that deep, came from her soul laugh that he loved so much.

"Listen. I'm a guy. I was just fucking thrilled that you somehow still wanted to have sex with me."

The two of them quickly dissolved into a fit of laughter, neither of them able to stop as long as the other was laughing. Maybe sometimes being a little selfish wasn't so bad, after all. It got them here, didn't it?

Tag: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[lucifermorningstxr]

The humiliatingly honest truth of the situation was that Lucifer Morningstar, the actual Devil himself, was afraid. Petrified, in fact, of losing Chloe. The weight that had been lifted from his shoulders in the parking garage earlier that afternoon fell crashing back onto him, landing directly on his head this time, as Kinley spun his tale, and Eve's presence made it so his hands were tied with the Detective for the time being. His only salvation was how good of a person she really was, and her response to his honest display was reassuring, to say the least. He nodded at her words, leaning into her touch as much as possible without outwardly disrespecting the woman he was still officially committed to. That didn't mean he wasn't still planning to end it though, nor did it mean he didn't want to hold Chloe tighter than he's ever held anyone in his eternity. It just meant things were stalled a bit while this whole mess was sorted. All of that being said, for the time being, he'd keep his reply honest yet brief. "Thank you, Detective. I... I promise I'll tell you everything i know. Thank you for having my back again." Not meant to be pointed, it was as genuine of a gratuity as the Devil could ever offer. Through thick and thin, they'd always seem to have each other's back. It was something so unusual for him, but he liked it. He loved it, in fact.

It pained him inside to go from confiding into the Detective to entertaining Eve. At first, he felt genuinely terrible for the first woman. Imagine spending your entire eternal existence having to be something you're not only to track down your 'first love' only to be smacked with the realization you don't really fit in, then compound all of that with the prophecy; it's a dreadful reality for anyone. Even the Devil has a heart, and he couldn't help but feel it squeezed a wrong way when the news that was shattering his world was building hers up. He moved to loosen his grip on her in that moment, but then she jumped all over him with her excitement. He couldn't lie but was being totally honest right here, right now what was best for the situation? His initial goal was just to smile and giggle with his girlfriend, feeding a bit into his carnal desires to distract from the heaviness of his reality, but when the Detective took what he knew looked bad even worse than he'd imagined, he was left to quickly reroute. Their reconciliation would not be in vain, not for nothing, not even his 'first love.'

He led Eve swiftly as he could after Chloe, being slowed by the maintenance of his eternally immature girlfriend. "Detective! Wait!" Lucifer would try to get her attention, but it seemed Eve was the real draw, and not in a good way. The suggestion of blatant disrespect to the woman he cared most for by the woman who had turned his life upside down was too much to bear. Yet, he'd try to contain himself. After all, this was a prison parking lot, wherein the building was held an insanely evil priest who would do anything to prove his 'true colours.' What's more is that this is the Detective's reputation. He'd been better behaved when working with her until Eve showed up, and he intended nothing less than respect for her. Channeling his strongest feelings into a cool, stern tone following the Detective's rightful upset, he'd turn to Eve and take one last stab at convincing the petulant first woman to behave. "Eve, darling, the Detective is right. Can't the sex wait? It's just a short drive back to the precinct anyway, and you know I last too long to make it." Not knowing what else to say that was honest in the moment, he tried to put a proverbial bandaid over the situation.

Any additional attempts he'd make to offer an apology to Chloe on Eve's behalf, or even address what was said on his own accord, were thwarted by Eve's remark. Chloe was the one not letting him be his true self? Chloe was the bad influence? Very well. If it's Big Bad Devil that Eve wanted, it'd be Big Bad Devil that Eve got. No more placating, no more games, and if that meant no more aquarium sex, then so be it. He was going to show both of them exactly where he stood, to Hell with the rest of the nonsense.

"The Detective is the bad influence!? Eve, do you even hear yourself?" With each word, his voice got louder as he got angrier. "The Detective is the only one who's consistently been there for me. You want to talk about my true self? Let's talk about it! Thanks to the Detective, I know I'm NOT the monster society has painted me to be! I know I'm NOT evil incarnate like every other human has believed me to be! Like dear old bloody Dad cast me to be!" He'd even flashed his Devil eyes a few times throughout his explosive tangent, typically in punctuation, but isn't that what Eve wanted? His nastier side? "My true self? You don't know who I am anymore! You know my body, but you clearly don't know me. Did you even stop for a moment to consider how the prophecy affects me!? All you have to do is be my 'first love' while I'm the one unleashing evil into the world by simply existing! By daring to think for one moment that I might deserve love. Maybe I don't, because I certainly don't feel loved. Not by you anyway, Eve. Sit where you want, but you'll be sitting by yourself."

As he huffed from his tantrum, turning to storm away from his 'girlfriend,' Lucifer gazed over at Chloe with a deeply honest pain in his eyes. "Please forgive me for my outburst, Detective. You don't have to deal with all of this anymore."

Lucifer was trying to balance his urge to comfort both women with his own self-preservation, trying not to crack under the anxious pressures brought on by what he'd just witnessed. He knew that it didn't matter whether he exploded in anger or got defensive because either would give Kinley's baseless claims too much credit. And it wasn't that he feared Chloe's rejection alone, as he himself was battling his own self-image in real time once more. He wasn't evil. Not like humanity said, and not like Kinley had just painted him out to be. Luckily, his spiral of thought was interrupted by the Detective's impeccable timing as she pulled him aside. Lucifer had to make a split-second decision on how to react, and Chloe's gentle approach combined with his own vulnerability led to the obvious answer; honesty as always, but soft communication. Not only to not rile Eve, but to demonstrate a composure and show that he's changed not only in eternity, but in the four years he'd been working with Chloe. The best four years of his existence to date.

"Detective, I have to tell you... you're doing an awfully good job handling all of this for a human. I... I want to talk to you about this. I need to talk to you about this..." He paused for a moment, motioning in the direction of Eve with his eyes. "But I don't think here is the best place. You still trust me, don't you? Do you trust me to be alone with you? To talk?" The Devil's mouth was shaky once more, his eyes set on the woman in front of him. "I'm not evil, Detective. I punish Evil, but I'm not evil. And... I don't want to be evil."

As their conversation was cut off, Lucifer couldn't help but reach out and pull Eve into his side. He'd wanted to do the same to the Detective, but it didn't seem appropriate in the moment, not in front of Eve, and he knew that if she accepted his offer, he'd have plenty of time to comfort her too. He gave her a look that said 'Please, don't be hurt. She needs this right now' as he soothed the uneasy first woman. If the prophecy was even a little bit true, then Eve likely had more than a small part in it. The least he could do was comfort her in this time of uncertain strife.