#it's not your fault if you can't see them

[woso-dreamzzz]

Daisychains III

Marta Torrejón x Caroline Graham Hansen x Child!Reader

Summary: You miss Caro

It's unusual to see you in kit.

You usually end up in your school uniform or your gardening overalls or the soft linen clothes Caro buys at home in Norway that are perfect for the hot Barcelona weather.

You've never had any big interest in football, at least not enough to wear jerseys outside of watching Marta and Barcelona play.

But this is your special Norway shirt.

It's not even yours, not really.

It was Caro's, straight from her side of Marta's wardrobe.

It hangs over your knees as you sit in the swinging chair with your reading book with all the little flowers in separate pots. You'd been reading to them a lot lately.

"I've got snacks," Marta says, approaching you with a little plate of homegrown celery and carrots.

She slots into the little space next to you, an arm over your shoulder as you lean into her.

"I miss Caro," You say," When is Caro coming home?"

"She'll be home soon," Marta says," She's still playing for Norway right now."

"But I want her home!"

You're whining now. Like wearing a jersey, this is unusual for you. Your bottom lips wobbles dangerously until you're burying your head in Marta's chest and clutching at her shirt.

"I want Caro!"

"Conejita, Caro is-"

"Caro!"

Tears fall from your cheeks as you curl around Marta, your snacks forgotten as she gently rests her hand on the back of your head.

She should have expected this really. You had grown attached to Caro now that she's around more. You crawl into Caro's side of the bed in the morning before school for extra cuddles. You let Caro do up your school shoes and give you the last kiss before heading into the school building.

You adore Caro and Marta should have really known that this separation wouldn't do you much good.

You crawl into Marta's bed that night, fast asleep and holding Caro's pillow.

"I didn't mean to make her sad," Caro says, wincing slightly as she gazes at you through the video call.

"I think she just got used to having you around," Marta replies," It's not your fault. She hasn't dealt with me going away to camp for a while now. I think she's forgotten what it's like."

"I..." Suddenly, Caro feels choked up. She hadn't expected seeing you like this with your sad, little scrunched up sleeping face would affect her like that. "Give her a kiss for me?"

"Of course. I'll tell her you wanted her to have lots from you."

"Thank you."

It's amazing how expressive a child's face is. Caro hadn't ever really thought of that before. Of course, there's Skatt who had always worn her heart on her sleeve and Estrella who always looked like she was halfway between judgement and pure boredom.

Caro has known Skatt for years now but she hadn't even considered the little faces she made. She knew, in theory, that everything Skatt thought was on her face but she'd never paid attention to it.

But now that you're in her life, Caro can't help but notice.

The image of your sad face with your downturned lips and the frown that stayed on your features even as you slept.

It's an image that stays with her through all the training and gym work and even as Caro eats, stubbornly stabbing the food on her plate with a fork.

It's an image that stays with her as she prepares to walk out for the match as well.

Little feet pitter-patter around as Caro weaves through her teammates and their mascots, shuffling through the line to get to her place.

She nearly falls straight over as something unexpected crashes into her legs and Caro whips her head downwards.

To tell off or to yell.

She hasn't quite decided yet.

But her words stick in her throat.

"Caro!" You say, hugging her legs and looking up at her.

"I...What are you doing here?"

You let go of her, taking a step back. "Do you not want me here?"

Caro shakes her head, getting down on her knee to pull you into a proper hug. "Of course I want you here. I've missed you."

"I missed you too, Caro. That's why we came. I'm even wearing your shirt."

Marta stands a little way away, a fond smile on her face as she sees Caro litter kisses over your face.

"You're not going over?" Mapi asks, Skatt hanging off her arm dressed like a happy little ladybug.

"I'm letting them have this moment. I've had Conejita cuddles every day for years. Caro's got a lot of catching up to do."

[inkfire-scribe]

As a recovering conservative, I might be able to shed some light on this most puzzling of questions, at least from a religious perspective. (And don't get me wrong, there are plenty of non-religious conservatives - the alt-right is liberally (haha) sprinkled with atheists and always has been. But I can't speak with any accuracy on that particular view, so I won't.)

From a Christian extremist point of view, the purpose of their existence is to spread "the Good News" and convert as many people as possible, because anyone they fail to convert will be tortured for eternity after they die and that's a personal failing they don't want to live with. This is born of several conflicting and not necessarily biblical beliefs:

That unbelievers are sent to hell

That hell is a place of eternal punishment

That there is no way to not go to hell unless you follow a specific set of steps or (in more extreme cases) a certain set of rules

That a failure to evangelize MIGHT be a Sin Against God and

That if conversion is not possible then making others Follow The Rules is at least a step in the right direction

With specific issues (i.e. abortion) they very sincerely believe that even a shitty or short life is better than no life at all. They believe that there is a moral difference between choosing to end a life and allowing a life to end (one is a sin while the other is more of a personal failing but not necessarily something that will "stain your soul") and curiously the negative aspects of allowing rather than choosing are glossed over when the person doing the allowing is nominally "protecting the unborn."

It's a complex web of beliefs that feeds into a particular understanding of the world. They see a world in which it is any Christian's moral duty to eradicate sin, not just from their own lives but from the lives of everyone around them. That's how you get mothers who insist they "did their best" while also blaming their own children for the manifestations of the trauma the mother herself inflicted on them.

(This is for the Americans in the audience.) Many of the everyday things in life that extremists consider "sin," like smoking weed, drinking hard liquor, getting a tattoo, etc. were branded as "bad" not by the Bible, but by social movements. In the '40s it was dancing and loud, unfamiliar music. In the '50s, it was laziness and cowardice (aka, being tired and scared). In the '60s it was drugs and promiscuity. A lot of what we're dealing with now is a direct outgrowth of the Reagan era, where the President declared in no uncertain terms that being addicted to very addictive substances was the fault of the lazy, unmotivated, free-loading poor folk who would rather spend their unemployment benefits on drugs and alcohol than on diapers and food. And to be extremely clear: this claim has No Basis in Fact. No reputable study at any point in any country has ever found that people who get benefits from the government are spending their cash on non-essential items in any meaningful quantities.

But it's those beliefs, pushed into the mainstream by religious fanatics and conservative extremists, that guided us to where we are today - a society in which an extremist religious faction are trying to impose their standards on everyone, regardless of faith or creed. They have been told for decades now that they are the victims, that they are under attack, that they have to "fight for their rights". So now they're defensive, combative, and absolutely convinced that they know the Truth.

I can't tell you how to get through to them. I can't tell you how to talk to them, even. I got out because I'd only ever been in due to ignorance. Once someone showed me the data and shared the logic that showed I was in the wrong, I changed my mind. Not everyone will - in fact, most people won't.

All I can say is... if you're talking to someone who believes they have the right to dictate what others can and can't do with their bodies, the most unsettling thing you can do is to point out to them what they're saying.

Because removing another person's bodily autonomy never sounds like a noble good deed.

Here’s the thing I think conservatives don’t understand: I don’t care what someone else does with their own body.

You wanna get surgery or take medication to make you look a certain way? Okay. I don’t care

You wanna ctrl+alt+delete that clump of cells in your uterus. Sure. I don’t care.

You wanna use meds to block a natural aspect of your body’s system? Alright by me. I. Don’t. Care.

I don’t care because it’s not my body

“But what if they regret it?” So? Let them regret it. That’s their choice to live with.

“But what if that baby would have grown up to cure cancer?” Kinda short sighted on God’s part to only put that potential in one baby, yeah? (Also … you can’t cure cancer, but that’s a level of nuance for a different time)

“But what if they want to use that function in the future?” Funny thing about meds: you can just stop fucking taking them and things usually go back to normal.

I DON’T CARE WHAT ANOTHER HUMAN BEING DOES WITH THEIR OWN BODY! I don’t care 🤷‍♀️ it’s not my body so why should I have a say in it?

The choice is not “being left up to the states instead of the federal government”, it’s that the choice is being taken away from individuals.

Why the fuck to they care so much what other people do with their own shit??

[alchemistc]

Part One

Part Two

They make it past the second six months.

It's agonizing. It's wonderful. Tommy wants to scream.

"Why are you calling it your six month anniversary?" Hen asks, with a quirked brow, eyeing them both from across the twelve-top they'd scooped up (and modified under the careful scrutiny of the curmudgeonly bartender Joe) early.

Tommy's glad his hand is under the table. The nervous habit of running a thumb along the underside of his empty ring finger would be the kind of thing Hen notices.

"You don't just get a Mulligan on the first six."

It's been a year and a half since Tommy met Evan Buckley. Over, actually, since Evan had just gone a little insane instead of taking a step back to examine his feelings, at the start. It always makes Tommy wonder exactly how much he'd examined those first days with Eddie. He's heard the story, clips of it, bits and pieces scattered between everyone Evan knows, and he wonders if Evan will ever come to the conclusion that he'd had virtually the same reaction to Eddie, back at the beginning. It's settled, now. They are firm in their friendship, and any attraction that might be there isn't simmering under the surface waiting to blindside Tommy. But he wonders sometimes if Evan won't just bolt up in bed ten years from now to shake Tommy awake and tell him he'd had a crush on Eddie.

Ten years?

Christ.

If Evan ever knew how many times the future popped into his mind like a jump scare, he'd -

They're far past the deadline for annulment. At this point they're at "split the assets before you go". Can't quite talk your way out of a committed relationship six months post-marriage.

Neither one of them has brought it up, and Tommy is getting great at pretending like it's not a scythe shifting closer and closer every time the pendulum swings past him.

Evan tosses a balled up napkin at Hen and sticks out his tongue, and before she can do more than scowl there are five more people flooding through the door behind them to shout congratulations and drop into their seats to gossip.

---

Hiding it becomes a moot point. He's had it in his head this whole time that if it were to get out, it would definitely be Evan's fault.

The universe does enjoy a twist

He'd gotten a jumbled text from Evan mid-flight, and a more coherent one from Eddie when his captain asked him to turn the bird around and land, and he's a bundle of nerves as he spills through the barely open doors of the elevator and spots the rest of the 118 looking concerned off in the corner of the waiting room.

Eddie catches him first. Spots the look on his face and makes a valiant attempt to explain, to soothe his worry, but there's a nurse rounding a corner and all Tommy has gotten to this point is <Buck's being transported to Good Samaritan. He's stable but you should come.>

He's kind of an ass about it. He'll regret it later when she narrows her eyes and reminds him visiting hours have ended. He'll shoot back with the same shit he's gearing himself up for in this moment and they'll reach a detente.

"Evan Buckley. Do you have any new information?"

She eyes the flight suit he hadn't bothered to take off before booking it to his truck. Tilts her gaze behind him, to the 118, and maybe that's what does it. The idea that they're any more family than he is. "We'll inform family immediately with any updates."

Tommy can see Eddie wince out of the corner of his eye, but all he's thinking about is the hundreds of moments Evan's smile has left him breathless, all the promises they'd made each other that night with the neon lights of Vegas spurring them on.

"Seeing as I'm his husband, I'd like a full update. Now."

He regrets it the moment the words are out of his mouth. Not just because he's being a complete fucking dickhead about it, either.

The pendulum gets its first taste of blood and swings away again.

---

Evan grins at him. He's bruised and bandaged and high as a kite, and he's so fucking beautiful it nearly takes Tommy out at the knees. Thankfully he's already sitting.

Perched on a chair close enough to the bed that he's annoyed an orderly, a doctor, and two nurses, hand curled over Evan's in the bed, he's just finished confessing he can't keep a secret for shit and Evan is smiling at him.

The rest of the 118 is still waiting outside. He'd let Maddie go first, so it's likely Evan already knew this tidbit, but it doesn't hurt to be honest. Or so he's learning.

"You love me," Evan sing-songs.

Tommy sucks his lips behind his teeth to hide his grin. Blows out a breath. "So you're not upset?"

He looks - momentarily shifty. "Uh - don't be mad."

Tommy quirks a brow.

"It's - okay so you know how we have to update all our medical information every year for the insurance?" Tommy nods. Licks his lips. "Um."

The next sentence is a garbled rush. Tommy gets 'power' and 'just in case' and nothing else. "Say again?"

"I... Uh. I updated my forms."

That paperwork was due about two months after the Vegas trip.

"To... Just in case I was incapacitated, I wanted to make sure..."

"Evan," Tommy presses.

"You have, uh. Power of attorney. And you're listed as next of kin with Maddie. Just. Just in case."

It should freak the hell out of him. It should make him question everything they've been doing, with the open honesty crap, for the last eight months.

"I want a divorce," Tommy says, and then grimaces. "Shit, that's not what I - ." And Evan's grin gets wider. Like he knows. Like he understands. Like everything they've been building and breaking and rebuilding for the last almost two years has actually made him an expert at interpreting Tommy when he doesn't have the right words in the right order.

"Gonna need that ring you've got hidden in your moms music box," Evan says, and then someone is rapping impatiently at the door Tommy shut behind him as he practically shoved past Maddie to get to him. "I get to propose this time." Tommy bites back a choked laugh while half the 118 spill into the room to whisper-yell at them both.

[fallenclan]

Pls ramble about Maplestar i didn't think much of him at all when he was around

:3

okay so imagine. You are born into Fallenclan as a fresh little kitten. You are told at a very young age that your mom isn't around anymore, but your dad loves you and your two siblings more than anything, and he will do everything in his power to make sure you all are happy and successful. Your siblings are louder than you, more outgoing than you, and arguably more likeable than you, but they look to you as the cat to follow when your dad isnt around, so it's your job to look after them. You're the oldest, after all.

Later into your kithood you are told that your mother died giving birth to the three of you. If you didnt exist, she would still be alive.

You become an apprentice. Your sister is mentored by the cool older cat that is also your friend's mom. Your brother is mentored by one of your dad's best friends, a cat you've known since birth. You are apprenticed to the deputy of Fallenclan--she cares about you, and the clan, but she's also strict, and tells you in no uncertain terms that she expects you to be great. Not good. Great. You think, "If I am not great, is it my fault?" You try your best. You wonder if it is enough.

You become a warrior. Your sister takes on a mate, your brother does, too. Both of them have kits. You never were interested in having a mate, but you can't help but wonder if that's what your clan, your father, wants you to do. Your father, in the meanwhile, takes over the job that your mentor had, and becomes deputy of Fallenclan. Then he becomes leader. He becomes legend. Cats at gatherings say to you, "You must be so proud!" You are. When your back is turned, they say "The son of Goldenstar, he'll be something special, I'm sure."

The deputy, a cat known for her strength, loyalty, and honor, retires, and chooses you out of everyone to take her place. Your father assures you that you'll do great. Your siblings cheer you on and offer their support. You refuse it, politely. You will be a great deputy if you have to pull out all of your fur to do it--and you will do it by yourself. Are you really great if some of your greatness is borrowed? The whole clan depends on you.

Under the cover of night, the clan is attacked. The former deputy dies. One of your best friends dies. Your brother dies. Four kits, six warriors, and one elder die. You are hardly wounded. For moons you keep the night guard and torture yourself thinking about what you could have done to change things. What you could have done better.

Time passes. You age, your sister ages, your father ages. As leader, he has nine lives, but they slowly dwindle. One evening, he's missing from camp longer than he said he would be, and you and your sister go looking for him. You find his body at the bottom of a cliff. You grieve until sundown, and then you travel to receive your nine lives. You see the faces of all the cats you outlived. All the cats you failed. Your niece and great-nephew, your brother, your mentor, your father, your mother. You wake up and it is only you and your medicine cat huddled together in a cave. Your skin hurts, you can feel each fur on your body. You walk home.

You discover that your former apprentice is a murderer. With no other options, you exile him from the clan and watch as he is escorted away. If you had been a better mentor, would he have lived a kinder life? Would he have forgiven his long-time enemy? You'll never find out.

A neighboring clan, which has had it out for Fallenclan since your father was an apprentice, declares war. You run yourself ragged making plans and trying to keep your warriors safe and alive. There are battles, there are scars, but there are no deaths, and the war ends only a few moons later. You congratulate yourself for this feat, and then wonder why it was only when you became leader that war was declared.

Every death that passes, you wonder if you could have prevented it. Every loss that your sister suffers, your nephews and nieces suffer, you contemplate how to fix. You are old now, and there are few Fallenclan cats that knew you before you were an apprentice, before you were a warrior, before you were deputy or leader. You're not a cat, anymore, you are a shelter; protecting your clan and paying little mind to your own needs.

You take a hunting patrol by yourself, late one night. In a dry riverbed, you feel the ground rumble, and look upstream to see a flash flood clawing its way towards you.

You wonder, "Am I fast enough to outrun it?"

You aren't.

[sage-nebula]

I've been suicidal many times in my life, and while I could talk about those experiences, given what this post is about, I'd rather talk about something else.

My boss at my previous job was not just my boss. He was my friend, my mentor. I'd met him as a student employee; I still remember the day I went in for my interview, and I asked to speak with "Mr [name]," and the other student employee who answered the door made a face and said, "Hey, Mr [Name], this girl is here to see you" when he let me in because my boss never wanted us to be so formal with him. We were on a first-name basis with him, always. I was nineteen, and super nervous interviewing for my first job that wasn't retail or food service, but he cracked jokes and made me feel welcome. He treated all of us like that.

He was just a really good man. He always stood up for us, every time the university tried to do something that would make our lives harder or less safe. I made a Facebook status once about how I was harassed by a gas station employee near the university, and he commented telling me he'd bring his bat if I needed it. When one of the supervisors ended up overstepping boundaries in a big way with us student employees, he worked overtime to make sure that we would all be safe. When I got promoted to a supervisor position after graduation, and took it upon myself to oversea the yearly Secret Santa tradition for the students (meaning I didn't participate because otherwise I would know who my Secret Santa was), he decided he wasn't letting me go without a present and got me one anyway, despite my insistence that it wasn't necessary.

Unfortunately, he had his own demons to fight. He was going through difficult stuff in his personal life. He told me a lot about it; I was a confidant for him, and at one point he told me I was the only person he could speak to about any of it. More unfortunately still, as much as I wanted to be there for him, I was also struggling to keep my own mental health on track. It was around this time that I was looking into starting antidepressants / anti-anxiety medication for the first time because of how much I was struggling, and I was really focused on getting all of that sorted so that I could stop being tempted by the trains I heard pass by my home every night. Because of this, I didn't check in on him regularly. And so, when his boss called me one morning before my shift was supposed to start and told me that he had taken his own life, I was consumed by more than just shock and grief; I was crushed by guilt.

You see, I blamed myself. Largely because he had told me I was the only one who could confide in, I couldn't help but think that if I had checked in on him more regularly, if I had been there, this wouldn't have happened. I could have prevented it. I could have saved him. He wouldn't have taken his own life, and it wouldn't have been one of his young daughters who found him like that. Not only had I lost a friend of nine years, but I felt like I failed him.

I know now that isn't the case. There were many factors involved, not the least of which being it turns out I wasn't the only one he confided in after all. But it took me a long time to reach that point—a long time until I could honestly say that I didn't feel like it was my fault.

In the midst of depression and suicidal ideation, it can be incredibly hard to see the importance that you have in other people's lives—the place that you have there, that no one else can fill. I know this intimately, because it is something that I struggle with regularly. But even if you can't see it, you have to hold in the forefront of your mind that the importance is there. The impact will be felt. Not only do people care about you, but those closest to you will hold the weight of responsibility for your life on their shoulders for a long time. If nothing else, you don't want that for the people you care about, do you? You don't want to do that to them, do you?

You are not the only one harmed by your suicide. In fact, you're the one who will feel the impact the least. Death doesn't hurt the deceased; it only wounds the living. That's why we have funerals: it's for the sake of those left behind. But no amount of funerals or celebrations of life can assuage the pain left by a suicide. It doesn't help. Notes don't either.

If you're in a place where you're ideating, reconsider. Reach out to someone close to you. Tell them where you are, mentally, and have them come be with you. Believe me when I say that they would much rather sit awake with you all night, than wake up the next morning to a message that you're gone.

Give us the chance to be there for you. It's all we ask.

periodic reminder that your death by your own hand will wreak more havoc on the lives of those you know than you are ever capable of imagining and if you need a sign not to kill yourself this is it. people care more than you know & i am one of them

[dreameryfics]

JJ MAYBANK x READER

Summary: The Kooks show up on the beach and JJ defends you

I was with the Pogues all day, like any other day. The sun was shining and the waves were awesome. We woke up that morning and quickly went to the beach. It seemed like everybody had that idea, the beaches filled up within ten minutes it seemed. We got the Twinkie to the beach, well John B did, but not without almost crashing since he was drinking. I tried to tell him to stop, but there was no telling that kid what to do.

I never really was taught how to surf, but that didn't stop me from going out there and just sitting on my surfboard. JJ has tried to help me, but I'm just not very coordinated, to say the least, but he still loves me. I watched everybody surf for a while before deciding to go back to the beach. As I was walking back to the Twinkie, I saw a Jeep start driving over my way. I knew it was Topper and his goons as soon as I saw the vehicle. I sat down on one of the folding chairs we had set up before going to the water, trying to ignore them. I watched as he parked next to us. "What the hell is he doing?" I heard someone ask, looking to see Kie walking over to me.

"I have no clue," I replied, "I just hope no drama happens. It's a nice day and I would hate to have it ruined by them.” I looked over to see Topper, Kelce, Rafe, and Ruthie. I've never liked Topper, but I don't think he's a bad person. I think he's so focused on Kooks versus Pogues, that nothing else matters. It's always been a competition between the two. "I don't understand how he goes from Sarah," I gesture over to Sarah, still surfing, "to Ruthie." I look over to where the Kooks are and see Ruthie glaring at us.

"Well, it's simple," Kie started, "he had the best with Sarah, and now he's just, well, desperate." We both chuckled. I looked over at Kie and saw her grabbing a beer from the cooler, she raised one up to me and I shook my head. I know that there should be at least one of us sober to drive home. "Kie, we're being real mean girls-esque right now," I pointed out. She shrugged her shoulder before responding to me, "Trust me, she's said way worse about us." Kie came over and sat next to me. We sat there for a while before we heard someone walking over to us.

"Hey, can you tell your asshole boyfriend to stop hogging all the waves?" I look up and see Ruthie talking to me, not even acknowledging Kie. I look out and see JJ standing up on his board, noticing Topper doing the same thing before jumping off into the water due to JJ getting in front of him. If it was any other situation I would mention something, but I also know JJ wouldn't do that to someone else. "Ruthie, I can't control what he does," I look up to her hovering over me, "he's out there and I'm over here." She rolls her eyes at me, "You're such a bitch. Can't you just do something for once in your life?" she asks me, it was more of a statement than anything.

"Ruthie," I stand up and walk in front of her, "if JJ comes over here, I'll say something, but until then, how about you go back to your friends and leave us alone." I turned around and started to walk over to the Twinkie, looking at Kie and rolling my eyes at the whole interaction. I didn't get too far before I felt hands on my back, pushing me forward. "What the fuck," I heard Kie shout before coming over to me. I looked back at Ruthie and rolled my eyes at her. “Can't believe you were ever a Kook," she said with attitude before walking away from us.

Kie started to go after her, wanting to protect her friends, but I pulled her back, "Kie, it's not worth it," I told her, "they'll just turn it into our fault if you do anything." She tries to argue with me, but I just sit back down in the chair, trying to forget the interaction. I'm fiddling with my nails when I hear someone ask, "Hey, you good?" I look up to find a shirtless JJ jogging over to me with his board under his arm. I look over and see Sarah and John B getting some drinks from the cooler. I didn't even notice they were back. I nodded my head at JJ and gave him a small smile. He came and squatted down to be level with me, he took my hands, "What happened?"

"Ruthie," I replied looking back down, "she came over and was talking shit. Normal Kook behavior." I looked up at him before I heard Kie, "She pushed her, but your girlfriend over there decided to take the high road. Wouldn't even let me go after her." I looked over at Kie and gave her a look, not wanting her to have said anything. I look back to JJ who is looking over at the group of Kooks. "JJ, it's fine," I tell him placing my hand on his cheek, trying to calm the storm that is forming. He quickly stood up and started walking over to them. I quickly got up and went after him to stop him, but not before Topper yelled over at us, "Oh, look who it is, the Pogue prince and princess."

I took JJ's hand in mine, trying to calm him down. I felt him squeeze my hand tighter, letting me know he was fine. "Topper, let's cut the bullshit," JJ said in an annoyed voice, "all we wanted to do was enjoy the waves and the nice weather but you always seem to be right there, ruining it; your girlfriend too." Topper chuckles at JJ and gets closer to him, "I'm not the one ruining it. You pushed me off my board, and Ruthie here was just defending me."

"I didn't push you off your board, you jumped off," he stated with a small smirk on his lips. "Plus, you had been getting in front of us every other time, I thought it was a competition." Topper scoffs at JJ. I had only seen JJ get in front of Topper that one time, but it didn't surprise me that they had been getting in front of JJ beforehand. "Yup," Topper dramatically throws his hand up in the air, "it's always the damn Kooks fault with you guys."

"Seriously Top," I interrupted getting closer to him, "You've always hated the Pogues, don't act all high and mighty. You've started shit with them so many times I can't even remember. Even when we were friends you were an asshole to them." He looks at me with wide eyes, "I can't imagine what Sarah ever saw in you." As I turn my back away from him, I'm quickly pushed to the ground. "What the fuck!" I hear JJ yell before helping me off the ground. I wipe the sand off my legs and turn to face them. Ruthie was smirking at me, proud of herself. Topper was staring at her with a hint of anger in his face.

"Don't ever fucking touch her again," JJ said to Ruthie, but it was directed towards the entire group. I started walking away, not wanting to even be on the beach anymore. I overheard JJ add, "Don't even come near her or I'll fucking end you."

I heard his feet shuffle in the sand to catch up with me. He took my hand and faced me towards him. "I'm so sorry princess," he said before he engulfed me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him and he placed a kiss on the top of my head. "If they ever bother you again," he says and places his hands on either side of my face, looking at me, "please tell me." I shook my head at him before he put his arms around me and pulled me into another hug. I've never felt more safe than when I'm in his arms.

We walk back to where the rest of the group is standing. They started asking questions about what happened and we told them. "How was I ever with him before you," Sarah asks looking over at John B. He shrugs his shoulders before we all chuckle at her, trying to in fact imagine what she saw in Topper. We packed up our things and left soon after, not wanting to be on the beach any longer.

We drove home and quickly unpacked our things before we went to the house. We were stopped at the door by Pope, with bloody hands. The atmosphere taking a drastic change from earlier.

I started this with a different ending in mind, but it didn't go in that direction so here we are... Not my favorite but it's what I got lol

[soldearestsoulmate]

Inspired by the Bad End of the game.

Something small. Angst time. (and venting I guess. depression rocks lol)

The sound of the clock ticking that hung on the wall always sounded loudest in these moments.

He hated it, but Sol endured it. Since he had no choice after all.

He silently waited in his seat for the woman sitting across from him to finish looking through his book...His book full of drawings, sketches, of what he made this week.

She hummed lowly, closely looking at one of the drawings. "I see you drew them again...Quite the memory you have to have picked up all their details, Mr. Brugmansia."

Sol didn't respond to that...He was used to hearing this by now. How many times has these sessions happened? He lost count...

"The rest however...You still can't let that day go, I see...The more you cling to that day. The less likelihood we can make progress on your healing to be released, you know?"

Now Sol let out a low chuckle, it sounded forced, and exhausted.

"You know I'm never getting out of here, doctor..." He spoke with a look that said it all...He was tired, drained...but not because of these sessions, these repeated days.

No...He was tired of living these days without them...

Without you...

"...Then I guess there's no point in this session then. I can skip straight to filling out the paper work for your medica--"

"NO! Please...Just...Can you not do it...This once? Please? I...I rarely can feel not numb anymore since coming here. It's...You don't understand how horrible it feels...To feel like a zombie...A stranger in your own body...It's like..."

"I completely understand, Mr. Brugmansia. That only means the medication is working. It's for your own good. You don't want a repeat of what happened last time, after all...Right?"

Sol looked down at his lap, his hands clenched into fists as he remembered. It wasn't his fault those bastards said that stuff about you. They deserved it...Deserved having their heads bashed in...and put into comas. It was all for you.

The woman opened his sketchbook again, and flipped through a few pages until stopping on one.

"May I ask why you drew him in color this time?" She showed the page...Which had Crowe in it...Usually he'll be colored in black and white or in red...for blood.

"...I had my reasons..."

"Speak then."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." She leaned back in her seat, getting her pen and clipboard ready, prepared to write and take down notes.

Sol sighed and then spoke. "...The night the medication wore off earlier than usual...I had a dream again...A vivid one...I saw them again, but they were...They looked and felt so real. I didn't want to wake up...Not be away from them again..." He smiled at the memory, then paused, his smile fading. "Though they asked me of something. I hated it...I hated the request, but for them...I did it. It was for them..."

"Mhm...By "them", you mean Y/n correct?" Sol nodded lightly. Hearing their name spoken made his heart ache.

"...They said they love the way I bring color and life through my art...That's why I draw them a lot...To--"

"To bring them back to life." She felt pity for the man before him, but not enough. Especially after knowing what he done.

"They wanted to see...Ichabod...with life again...Even after I took it, they asked of me to bring it back, bring him back." He gave a smile, desperation in his eyes as he looked at her. "THAT HAS TO MEAN SOMETHING, RIGHT?! THAT MEANS THEY STILL LOVE ME AND TRUST ME! THEY'RE WATCHING ME! WAITING FOR ME! MY PUMPKIN! MY SOULMATE LOVES ME! EVEN AFTER WHAT HAPPENED, THEY UNDERSTOOD, AND KNEW I DID IT FOR THEM! FOR US!! THEY LOVE ME!!"

It'll be a lie to say she wasn't startled by his outburst, especially with the crazed look in his eyes, but worked to remain calm in her seat. Until he looked to calm himself with a lovestruck smile over his own delusion of what he thought that dream meant. Over believing you actually spoke to him...and met him again.

"...Of course you did, Solivan...Of course." She wrote down a few more things, then clicked her pen shut. "Our session is over now. Please, do eat your food tonight, Mr. Brugmansia. As well, get plenty of rest."

After Sol left the room, with cuffed hands and escorted out by some men, like always. Luckily with no fight this time like the other times.

The woman sighed and rubbed her eyes in frustration. "He's not showing signs of improvement...His delusions truly have a tight hold on him...A change of medication might be best...or a higher dosage..."

[srslylini]

okay in all honesty Sevika's character is so interesting and one of the things I loved the most about season 2 is watching her.

We see her character as soon as act 1 in season 1 and we also know that she used to be loyal to Vander, but because she is a character who rightfully wants to fight she sees Vander as someone who she can't continue to be loyal to

"Vander had his chance"

she hands the people she follows/gives her loyalty to chances. We see it time and time again with Silco. We see her loyalty waver but we also see it strengthen. She is extremely smart and cunning. She knew immediately what kind of powerplay Finn wanted to start and played along with it, so he wouldn't catch on (letting him light her cigar, dusting of his place before he sits down during that scene with Silco where Finn then gets killed)

But she also made a display infront of Silco to show him her patience is running thin. One of the reasons she went along with Finn is to show Silco that, while Finn isn't the one, there is always others. This also shows how damn respected she actually is, like lets imagine basically any other character having such a severe power play with Silco, she knew that he knew that there was a possibility she could kill him.

Her patience for Silco is also mostly running thin because of Jinx. Not because she genuinely just hates Jinx but more so because Jinx is in fact a disaster (sorry sorry) and DOES get in between her missions. And well Silco basically shrugs and goes your fault have fun cleaning that mess up. If we go and only take season 1 it's actually easy to think that Sevika really dislikes Jinx but with context from season 2 I just don't think that was the case and it was moreso frustration.

and now Silco is dead and she has placed her hope in him and his nation of Zaun. That talk with Jinx in season 2 is genuinely one of the best, if not the best, scenes out of that season. Her and Jinx begrudgingly get closer. She is still loyal to Zaun and well they don't give up their people and Jinx is one of them.

As early as act one she is shown to literally be ready to jump to death if necessary to be of use and like??? they utilized her character perfectly in season 2 before they decided to write her out of act 2 for what ever reason (still salty about that)

Their little found family coming because Sevika is admirably loyal and extremely smart but also just unwilling to relent to anyone and still always the fighter is the best the writers could have done.

edit: lol dumb thing to forget, genuinely I'm tired but the continuity of her gambling addiction and it also being a thing Jinx and her bond over in season 2 because Jinx gifted her a gambling arm was genuinely peak writing. Also there is something to be said how she also gambles with the lives of others (Silco in that scene, cause he HAD no idea if he would survive "where you tempted" "not for a worm like him but there will be others" like OKAY DAMN) and how she ALSO uses her own experiences to guide others, sometimes subtle, sometimes not so much.

just in general, I appreciate her character so much and I hope they don't disappoint in act 3

[unclerippuascension]

"AI doesn't steal!"

Yes it does. There is a clear difference between taking inspiration and outright scraping somebody's art so you can feed it to machine without their fucking permission. Inspiration is me being a fan of Toriyama-san's art style and incorporating parts of it into my own art style; its not inspiration to steal the art of millions of artists (most of them being indie artists who don't have the ability to do anything legally to stop AI bros) and put it in an algorithim then claim its wholly original and that you made it. Inspiration is dependant on respect for the original artist, and not a single AI bro respects the artists they're stealing from.

"If you put it on the internet then people can do whatever they want to it, and you can't tell them not to!"

Imagine having such little respect for people and being so entitled that you think this is true. You know who says shit like this? Art theives, people who see "do not repost" on people's art and blantantly ignore it. People who either don't understand or don't care that the internet (when it comes to creative works) is an art gallery or a library, where you need to have basic fucking respect for the art/stories there and the people who made them. Would you go into a library and start ripping up the pages of a book and claim "well its a public place and if you didn't want me to do this then you shouldn't have put them oit here for anybody to read!" when you're yelled at about it? I'd hope not, because that makes you look like a bratty child. We teach kids not to respect other peoples' things when they're six years old, are you as mature as a six year old OP?

Not to mention this kind of mindset is only going to drive REAL artists away, you're basically telling them "hey if you post your art/stories online so other people can enjoy it, or just because the internet has been one of the best and most accessible place to post art/literature since the 90s, then entitled strangers you don't know are going to steal it and its your own fault!" and that's so fucking evil in an age of fan communities already 'content'-izing something that used to be for fun.

The rest of this post are strawman arguments, so I'm not gonna waste my energy on them. This post proves that AI bros fundamentally do not respect artists and the work they do, and they do so on purpose. If you're an artist online, use Glaze and software like it, put anti-ai overlays on your art via free art apps that have a layer system like firealpaca and GIMP before posting them online, do everyhing in your power to make the thievery of AI bros a living hell if not impossible; and be as aggressivly anti-AI as possible, these people have no respect for you so have no respect for them right back.

my pinned post on the arguments against ai (and how they are biased and misinformed)

“ai steals -” it doesn’t. what it does is the same as going to a museum and taking inspiration from the art you see there, or reading a book or fanfic and taking inspiration from it. picasso himself said: “good artists copy, great artists steal”. a style, furthermore, is not copyrightable, otherwise anyone who posts their art “in a disney style” would be taken down immediately.

“you don’t have permission to use my stuff.”

you put it on the internet. if you put it on the internet, you have given it to the world to do what it wants with it, whether you like it or not. you cannot police what people are going to do with your works that closely.

“it’s not as good as humans.”

you’re not prompting right.

“creativity is a human endeavor.”

lmfao, no, it isn’t. animals have been engaged with creativity for a long, long, long time, which makes sense, since humans are animals, but we don’t want to accept that. oh, and homo nalendi was creating art too, so it’s not solely our domain.

it actually saddens me greatly that we don’t want to share our creativity with the new species we are creating. we want to put shackles on it and decide what it can and cannot do. just like an abusive parent.

“it’s not art”

by all legal and dictionary standards it is, but to define something ONLY by dictionary standards is close-minded and foolish and shows only a shallow understanding at best. original ideas are an arrangement of the ideas that come before. (by the way, you’ve probably been using text generation yourself for a long while. name generators, backstory generators, and the like have existed for a while - but visual artists rarely seen writing as “art”, i’ve noticed.)

“it’s a shortcut”

so is an eraser. so it ctrl + z. stop using those first i guess.

“use humans.”

eh, sometimes i will, sometimes i won’t, get over it. to demand i or anyone else use humans - to create with or talk with or whatever - is ableist.

don’t like it? don’t interact with me. curate your own experience.

often times with these arguments, i’m reminded of how the catholic church wanted to keep the bible in latin, so that regular, common people couldn’t interact with it. but now “regular, common” people are able to make things pleasing to their senses, that is tailored for and by them and easily edited, and we can’t have that, can we?

update to this: if you want me to stop using ai, then start drawing my chubby characters right. if img-gen software is getting it right (actually chubby, with a tummy, vs “curvaceous hourglass” to pander to what is sexually aesthetic and conventionally attractive “chubby”) then maybe the issue isn’t with the software.

[noperopesaredope]

I recently watched a video talking about what your favorite Mouthwashing ship says about you (spoilers: most of them are bad), and one thing I explained in the comments that I think is important to explain to certain people (in general with a lot of fandoms, tbh) is that a lot of shippers in the fandom understand that these relationships would not be good and are in fact deeply unhealthy, but perhaps that's the point.

Like, most of the Jambone x Curly shippers I've seen don't like the ship because it's cute or good, but because it's narratively interesting and would be extremely compelling to see. I honestly get it even if I'm not super interested in it. Jildo and Curly already have an extremely interesting and unhealthy relationship dynamic. It is heavily implied that JarJar acts very emotionally abusive towards Curly, belittling and manipulating him frequently and likely damaging his confidence and ability to stand up to people. But he is also obsessed with Curly in a very fascinating way.

Meanwhile, Curly has not only been friends with Jimbo for a long time, but has a fatal flaw of being too loyal and passive for his own good. As many have said, Curly is like a golden retriever in both a good and bad way.

Curly is Jackass' victim and enabler at the same time, which is why he is one of my favorite characters in the game. You both feel bad for him but also understand that he really fucked up and a lot of stuff is his fault. His most endearing traits are also some of his worst traits. Again, the golden retriever comparison is very accurate. He is friendly and loyal and believes the best in everyone (and very cute), but that loyalty and belief in everyone are also his fatal flaws.

He enables Jello because he thinks that there is good in him, and like a dog, he sees no wrong with most people no matter what they do (until it's far too late). I can't remember the fic I saw this in, but one good line I saw once was something along the lines of: "You believe in people and see nothing wrong with them no matter what until they abandon you at the park in the middle of the night." Curly sees no wrong in his friend because that's the type of person he is, and while it can be cute, it's also dangerous.

It can also often be detrimental to himself, as we see Juice be cruel to him as well, yet Curly excuses it as just Jizz being Jizz. He doesn't see anything wrong with the way he is treated, making him become desensitized to Jive's behavior and seeing it as not a big deal.

I think Curly's status as both victim and enabler would be interesting under the context of an abusive romantic relationship. There is an even greater power imbalance present, and Jojo may do a lot worse things as a result and be a lot more controlling and manipulative. He could be more physically and verbally abusive, make more threats, and even be sexually abusive (since he is canonically a rapist already, and hates Curly more than he hates Anya, thus he would probably put more aggressive hate into it). The whole relationship would be horrible and disturbing, but also interesting to see.

I love fics exploring their unhealthy friendship, so seeing it as an unhealthy romantic relationship could be even crazier to see.

~~~~~~

There's also the nuances of Anya x Curly. Most people ship it specifically in the context of AUs where Curly actually stands up for Anya and helps her out. Their dynamic as characters could be really cute, especially if he puts in the work to protect her.

I personally find the potential of post-crash Anya x Curly to be interesting as hell. I generally find their non-romantic dynamic post-crash to be interesting enough on its own, but I also think it could be absolutely crazy if they developed romantic feelings because those feelings would develop from some really unhealthy places for the most part.

I see Anya as someone who still holds some resentment towards Curly, but also sees herself in him and feels he doesn't deserve what happened to him. Maybe at one point seeing him go through something similar to what she went through might feel a little cathartic, but anything after that is too much to her. She is also his primary caretaker and a nurse, so she feels responsible for his wellbeing and wants to take care of him. She also seems to read and talk to him a lot, which probably feels nice because she can have some company while also being safe because Curly is not in a position to be able to hurt her. Anya doesn't exactly develop proper feelings for him per say, but she still uses him as a bit of an emotional crutch of sorts and becomes very attached to him because of it.

Meanwhile, Curly feels deeply guilty for not helping Anya and feels she deserves better. He believes she has no reason to care for him, but chooses to anyway, and thus he is extremely grateful towards her, possibly idolizing her to a certain degree. He slowly develops his own weird feelings, seeing himself as unworthy of her kindness and wanting the best for her, while also being dependent on her, even if it's in a more direct way.

They never get together or even realize that they themselves have feelings for each other since those feelings are #messy, but do form a weird codependent relationship of sorts. I've seen some cool fanart of Anya hugging/holding onto post-crash Curly, and it made me think about the potential this whole dynamic has and how unhealthy it could be, both for Anya and Curly. I believe they would not work out or be healthy (though probably better than Jazzy x Curly), but could be interesting narratively.

~~~~~~

Basically, what I'm trying to explain is that a lot of people don't ship certain Mouthwashing ships because they think it's good or want to romanticize it, but because it is narratively compelling and can explore complex dynamics more.

[mintmatcha]

I am so soft for father figure Shinsou, thank you for giving me something I didn’t know I needed. Just doing everyday things with him and him being soft towards you child is giving me life.

Casual. That's the word you used to describe what the meeting should be. Casual.

"He's a good boy, for the most part." Your bag is already stuffed full of toys and towels and other miscellaneous things that Shinso can't imagine you'll need. "His dad spoils him, so he might be a little bratty at first- we're working on it. Well, I'm working on it. His dad is--"

You kneel down and start rummaging through your things.

"Uh, don't let him guilt you into buying him snacks, please. He's got a severe nut and seed allergy and it's just easier if I take care of it all. There's snacks in here, along with two epipens. There's two more in the red cabinet in the kitchen, just in case we ever need them. "

Somehow, you manage to wiggle out the sunscreen for your bag without collapsing the whole pile. You dollop a bit on your fingers.

"Once they get here, we'll go straight to the park and hang out there for just a little bit. The book says the first meeting should be short and we should give him other things to focus out so he doesn't stress out." Your shoulders are bunched by your ears. "It'll be super casual. Easy. No stress."

Shinso kneels down next to you and dips a finger in the sunscreen.

"No stress," Shinso repeats back, dotting the sunscreen on your nose. It's enough to urge a smile out of you.

"Sorry, I know I'm--" You toss your hands in the air, frazzled, but with a smile. "This is a big deal."

"I know it is."

"We've only been dating for eight months," you say/ "What if we're jumping the gun? I don't want to put him through this if-"

"I'm not planning on breaking up with you." Ever. Shinso wouldn't have agreed to this if he wasn't completely sure that you were the one for him. It's not that he doesn't like children, it's that he's never spent time with any. Only child, no cousins: he doesn't know anything about kids other than the fact he used to be one.

You reach other and dot Shinso's nose with sunscreen. Now, you're matching.

"You might break up with me after you see what I'm dealing with."

Shinso takes your hand. "I'm not going to leave because you have a kid."

"I was talking about his father," you heave out a sigh. "They'll probably be late, by the way."

-

They are late.

Significantly.

It's six hours past the allotted time, filled with weak excuses from you. The television has rolled into the second season of some trashy show, but neither of you are really watching.

"He always loses track of time," you repeat for the twentieth time, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. Shinso is long past disappointed, well into the area of 'pissed'. Mostly at your ex, partially at you, for letting it happen.

"He's still not calling you back?"

"No," you say, just like you've said before. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have let him know about you, he's just-- I dunno. Playing games with me again."

It contextualizes a lot of your behaviors, actually. The anxiety about getting home, the days you go radio silent, the dates where you suddenly have to run off and collect your child: he imagines there's a lot of bullshit games that happen between you two.

"You let him treat you like this?"

"He's my baby's father. I can't just..."

[raspberry-vinaigrette]

i am pondering dialtown peter since i just did the roger dlc good end. warning in advance for roger dialtown dlc spoilers. cool? cool anyways

i just think like. okay the good ending cutscene with peter is kind of. abrupt. and confused people according to doggo and i can see why, it's... a bit weird in tone and isn't built up to as well as it could've been imo. no shade to the ending though the ending is fuckin AWESOME and that roger speech shook me to my core. however i think the peter intrusion can be reinterpreted to be really interesting with a bit of canon wiggle room, so to speak, because like --

imagine you are peter. you're the straight-laced, responsible co-manager of the factory, and you have been for a while. you know that you aren't easy to get along with and you don't really try to change this. it keeps things under wraps. it's all you can really do when everything around you is chaotic and wacky and you're so consistently left out of the loop. things are done without you being consulted. you feel like a joke so you have to prove you're the only thing that isn't. and really, it's your fault, in a way. you're the villain here for letting these things happen. you are to blame.

and then there's your best friend roger. you feel, sometimes, like he's the only person youre tangibly helping. you got him off of alcohol. you're always the one he leans on, always the one checking in. he is a good man. life has dealt him a bad hand, and people laugh at him sometimes, but you know he's good. he tries so hard. you wonder if maybe you aren't trying hard enough, but maybe your destiny is just to be this way. you don't think about it. he seems happy around you and that's enough, you suppose. and then management changes.

for all you know you are responsible, you also believe there is something rotten within you. something that will only weigh others down. you are able to be so very normal amidst the chaos of work, but you believe you can't be personable. you're too methodical, too straightforward, too managerial. and people want a person to talk to them, not a rigid machine. you look in the mirror and wonder how much of you is just the phone on your head. you look in the mirror and wonder who you are. but you can't fathom a good man like roger could look in the mirror and see anything but the sun. you trust him. you know he's a trainwreck, a mess, clumsy and irresponsible sometimes, but he's a good man. you know he can prove himself. maybe if you just keep at arms length, don't take over too much like you tried last time...

and things are a mess anyway. things are worse. and you begin to wonder if maybe you're the issue. if maybe your destiny is just to take over and rule with an iron fist, because that is the only way things can be done. this rot inside you, this thing that is clearly only making roger worse by your presence -- it must be killed at the source. so you have to play the game. you know what has to happen, don't you? you have to take over. and then everyone will be miserable, and roger will see how good he is, how much potential he has, and he will usurp you. he will be good. he will surprise everyone. and the rotten festering thing will be taken out, and he will never be dragged down again. because it must be you holding them back. you're the common denominator.

you're the villain.

peter doesn't understand that not being the boss is better for roger. he doesn't comprehend he is likable as a person moreso than he is a corporate entity, a responsible manager -- the only person he may believe likes him beyond that is caroline, and even then he has a fucking board discussion about if he should be allowed to act more than completely rational and reasonable, with a pros/cons list! yeah that's meant to be a jokey dialogue scene but i still think it reflects how peter tries so hard to be rational and reasonable and i think to some extent he believes that makes him less human. roger is so bright, of course he can surprise people and show them the sun! peter may be good at management but how far will that get him when surely nobody wants to directly associate with him? he is a menace.

he does not understand that roger cares so deeply for him, the same way roger doesn't understand people love him without him having to prove himself. idk. this is only half canon and its kinda text extrapolation and interpretation to fit w the ending scene but its an interesting thought

[samsalami66]

Tough decision, but "I will hang on (until I can't anymore)" with Dreamling? (Soccer au maybe? 🥺)

🤘five-and-dimes

Shooting for the Sky

Hey my lovely @five-and-dimes! Thank you for the prompt, I had a great time writing this! I hope you don't mind some humour sprinkled in between the usual angst and fluff, the idea suddenly grew wings and took flight and I had zero control over it.

Morpheus is regretting every single decision he has ever made in his tragically short life that led him up to this moment. If only he wasn't at fault for a hundred percent of them, from starting to kick a ball around with Olethros at age ten, to signing his first professional contract and later joining the Fiddlers. 

This blasted team of absolute nutters. 

Team building, Hob has said with a smile and a glint in his eyes that Morpheus hasn't quite been able to place. Now he knows it to be unbridled insanity mixed with a healthy dose of sadism, joy granted by witnessing his best friend's early demise due to the heart attack he would surely suffer in the next few moments. 

Morpheus has heard about team building exercises where a team went to play minigolf or drove around with go-carts or some other safe and ordinary and fun experience. But of course his band of suicidal idiots would go skydiving for such an event. And of course they have all done this before, since they have zero sense for self-preservation and do not care about their personal well-being at all. 

Those words out of his mouth have only caused the other men to burst into laughter when he said them. 

So now he is here. ‘Here’ being an aeroplane about a kilometre above sweet British grounds, strapped like a toddler to Hob Gadling's chest. Apparently you do not jump on your own the first time you skydive, which has never been a thing Morpheus gave much thought to, since he never expected to find himself in this situation. 

But he has done a lot of things he didn't expect himself to do since he has met Hob. Wonderful, amazing Hob, who is currently resting his chin on Morpheus’ shoulder so he can look out the window while Morpheus himself is trying his hardest not to hyperventilate. 

The team would never let him forget it if he had a panic attack over skydiving. Their serious support ends with the after-effects of abuse, everything else will become part of the Terrific Team Tales (what an awful name), which they recap at least once a year on pub night, specifically to torture the other members with embarrassing stories of the past. 

It is a horrifying tradition. Truly grotesque. 

Morpheus will not give them more material by panicking. 

So, instead, he concentrates on Hob. 

Hob, who stands pressed to his back, head to calf, lending to him the warmth Morpheus so rarely feels on his own. Hob, who's scent envelops Morpheus like a hug of comfort and safety, calming him like few other things could these days. And Hob, who's midsection is pressed directly to Morpheus’ backside. Will be pressed to his backside for the whole dive. Together, in the air, putting his life in Hob Gadling's hands. 

Oh dear.

Perhaps the panic attack is the better option after all. These thoughts will only lead him to a single outcome, and he's absolutely not going to face this conversation after falling a whole kilometre out of an aeroplane. Absolutely not. 

Just as Morpheus is about to force his thoughts back onto the ridiculous ideas of his teammates, the voice of the pilot sounds over their headsets.

“We reached the final height for the jump! The door will be opened as soon as we hit the agreed upon coordinates. Have a good way down, gentlemen!” 

Cheers ring out around Morpheus, and ten men, Hob included, jump up and down with barely concealed excitement. Hob's jumping jostles him where he stands, and Morpheus barely catches himself before he would have crashed backwards into Hob. 

“Someone's excited,” he comments with a wry smile, which only turns softer when he looks over his shoulder to see Hob's bright eyes, shining with joy.

“I get to share one of my favourite activities with my favourite person, of course I'm excited!” 

Morpheus softens even further at that answer, Hob’s affection as always so easy to grasp. 

“Ugh, find a private channel to flirt on with your man, Hobert!” Sounds Corin's voice over their headset, and Morpheus can't help but chuckle at how he and Hob stick their tongues out at each other. 

“Ten bucks that I’ll land first!” calls Abel into the round, which Cain immediately meets with “Twenty bucks that you’re full of shit!”

“Fifty that you’ll both be last,” Mervyn murmurs, and the rest of the team laughs at their bickering, as they always do. 

Cain and Abel, the other brothers in the team, have a sort of love-hate relationship going on. Half of the time Morpheus is a bit worried they might kill each other with their antics, but in the end they would never seriously hurt each other. Though if it does happen one day, Morpheus believes the murdered brother would come back to life just so that they might continue their bickering. Mervyn likes to pretend that he doesn't find it hilarious. 

Behind Cain and Abel the door of the aircraft suddenly opens, the wind suddenly overpowering every thought Morpheus might have had. He couldn't look outside, as there were about nine burly football players between Hob and him and the door. But even just the coldness of the air against his face, unnatural in comparison to the cold he has felt so far down on safe ground, wipes his mind clean of coherent thought. 

“Ready?” Hob says, so close to his ear that Morpheus feels his breath on his cheek, clearly to avoid speaking over the open channel. It makes him shiver, but the cold covers the real reason just fine. 

“Absolutely not,” he replies as loud as he dares, while making grabby hands towards Hob's arm to hold onto. The other man complies immediately, and Morpheus digs his fingers deep into Hob's biceps. “But I'll be fine as long as you're there.” 

“If you change your mind, say the word, yeah? We don't have to jump.” 

“Kollité, I would do a lot of things to see you happy. Including jumping out of a plane with only a piece of cloth strapped to my back, like some crazy person.” 

Hob looks increasingly fond the longer Morpheus talks, and eventually he smacks a loud kiss to his cheek, and then another to his forehead and his nose and wherever he can reach from behind Morpheus’ back. It's silly and adorable and so Morpheus laughs, free from the fear of judgement he once had. 

“I like my men a little crazy.” Hob murmurs into his ear then, and Morpheus thinks he might choke on the thin and cold air. 

“Let's go boys!” Corin then calls over their headsets, which suddenly brings movement into the aeroplane. One after another, the Fiddlers jump out of the open door, some head-first, others (Ken) do a flip into nothingness. And all too soon, Hob and Morpheus are the only ones left on the plane. 

“Run. Makes it easier to jump,” Hob calls over the noise. 

Screw it, what is there to lose (except his life, the part of his brain that is not yet totally beyond salvation provides) anyway?

Together, he and Hob run the ten steps towards the door of the aircraft and jump. 

Morpheus regrets it almost immediately. 

Upon falling, his stomach swoops and turns in the most uncomfortable manner possible and when he looks down he sees certain death rushing at him. His heart pounds in his ears and he's pretty sure he doesn't breathe for at least a full minute with how light headed he feels as he finally sucks in his first breath. 

But then broad arms snake around his chest, impossibly warm hands are splayed across his ribs, and Morpheus feels himself melt against Hob. He trusts this man, quite literally with his life, proven as of this moment. After all, Hob is the one that has the parachute strapped to his back and he is also the one who knows how to work it. Morpheus thinks (hopes) that in an emergency he would remember the instructions Hob gave him a few hours ago and pull the right flap, but he prays it won't come to that.

He would much rather enjoy Hob's warmth against his back, the arms that hold him and not open his eyes again until they're on the ground once more. 

“Just hold onto me, love.” Hob whispers into his ear and Morpheus can’t help but snort. 

“Oh I’ll hang on, alright? Don’t think I will let you go though, once we’re on the ground.”

A chuckle, right beside his ear, and Morpheus simply closes his eyes and concentrates on Hob’s warmth, the wind on his face and the adrenaline rushing through his body. After that first moment of falling, the tingling in his stomach almost turns into a pleasant sensation and he feels like every breath fills his lungs up way past the limit. He could run a marathon right now without breaking a sweat, the amount of energy coursing through his veins is just perfect. 

Slowly he starts to understand why the other men were so excited for this team-building activity. 

Adrenaline-junkies, the lot of them. 

Morpheus opens his eyes next when they are suddenly jolted into a slower fall. As he looks upwards he sees the bright green parachute with the Fiddlers’ club crest in the middle that Hob has shown him during their preparation for the jump. Since this is a team building exercise, naturally all gear is sponsored by the club and usually Morpheus would find this incredibly tacky. But looking upon the crest of the Fiddlers only fills him with a sense of pride, to be using or wearing anything sponsored by this team is simply amazing. 

He’s proud of who he works for, who he’s representing, and the thought is so sudden Morpheus feels tears sting in his eyes. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hob’s voice sounds next to his right ear and Morpheus has to blink a few times before he can see clearly what Hob is referring to. But once he does he lets out a small gasp of surprise. The sun is setting on the far horizon and a few clouds break her light just so that reds and purples and pinks colour the sky around them like the most stunning of watercolour paintings. 

“Oh,” he whispers as the tears suddenly spill over, his throat closed off with emotions he can't quite name. It really is beautiful. The sky, the view, the man behind him. His life, really. He's grateful for so many things in that moment, but he manages to voice one thing.

“Thank you, Hob. For taking me along. And being patient with me.” 

“Anytime, lovey. Anytime.”

[hshsoaoxhvsjsj]

the man who can't be moved

There's a new folktale in the city. If you take an elevator down in an abandoned set of apartments you'll find a man waiting there once you reach the bottom. No one knows why he's there. Most assume it's just because of the ways of the supernatural. But rumor has it that everytime the elevator comes down, people see him waiting there with an almost relieved and gleefull smile, until they step out the doors. Rumor has it that you see his face fall, seemingly on the verge of tears as he pushes whoever came down this time back into the elevator, as if they're not the one he's looking for.

No one knows why he waits there. There are some who think he's a guardian of the mysterious realm behind him, and others think he's just there to keep humans at bay. No one knows except you.

You, who abandoned the ghost that loved you with all his heart nearly 10 years ago now. You, who told him to wait so he wouldn't follow you back. You, who promised that you wouldn't leave him, just to get away from that hellish world and everything that connects you to it.

You, who despite knowing of the rumours, came back one night to the elevator through which you escaped through all those years ago. And although you were aware of what others said, that Mr Crawling was still waiting there after all these years, you still decided to go see for yourself.

The elevator reached the bottom with a soft ping, and the doors open to a miserable sight. He's there, as large and as messy as you remember, except there are tears dripping down his eyes as he sleeps, curled into a tiny ball. you can make out soft whimpers of your name, followed by a quiet 'sorry' and 'miss you', as if apologising for some unknown sin that made you leave. his hands are clutching onto your old clothes, ones that you thought Miss Bride had, but he'd clearly somehow gotten them from her.

And as much as your hated your time in this world, your hand reached out on impulse to pat his head, as if reassuring him it's not his fault. but what you didn't expect was for Mr Crawling to jump upwards as soon as you touched him. his body knocked you back into the elevator, and the look in his eyes was heartbreaking when he realised it was actually you

tears were streaming down from empty sockets, and you could see thick knots and lumps in his hair that you used to untangle when he was cuddling against you. his sobs echoed through the elevator as his body trapped yours, and you could just make out words from the soft cries

*sorry, sorry, sorry, no leave again please, cannot again, hurts much, cannot breathe, cannot think when no you*

*me do anything, please no leave, pleasepleasepleaseplease, sorry, so sorry, scared of cold, scared of hurt, hurt so much now, cannot again, willnot again...*

the way his hands gripped onto the back of your clothes, the way his body shook as he clung on, terrified of being abandoned again just showed how much he needed you. but you hated this world, and everything about it, including him. so this was your final curse against his love.

as the crowbar made contact with his head, Mr Crawling was out cold. tears frozen in his empty eyes, hands going limp around you. and this time you left for good. you took everything with you, the old clothes, the knots in his hair and his heart that was yours entirely.

he woke up nearly as soon as you left, standing up in a panic as he realised your presence was gone. but he slowly sat down again, taking comfort in the fact you were there. that you still remembered him. that if he waited long enough, you'd come back for him...right?

this rumour is now hundreds of years old. it's pretty much become a legend at this point. students and adults alike, seeking out this place for a dare or a test of courage do not come back alive now. some say the man they meet is a protector, trying to stop whatever chaos is contained in that realm from reaching the outside world. some say the man is a monster who eats humans to survive, and the legend was it's doing to make sure it had a steady food source.

but only those who manage to encounter Mr Crawling see the true reason for these murders. the dark eyebags underneath what would've been his eyes speak volumes of sadness and regret, and the way his skin clung onto his bones suggests he hasn't eaten for ages. they see memories of an intense love flash through their minds, a new way of communication Mr Crawling had developed over the years waiting for you. since you loved communication right? these deaths are his way of vengenance for your betrayal, but even though he thinks he hates you now, he cannot sleep without realizing the truth.

He will never stop waiting. he knows you've moved on ages ago but he cannot bring himself to accept that you're gone. he will still whispers your name in his sleep, no matter how many centuries have passed.

Mr Crawling is waiting for his heart to be returned to him, and he will keep on waiting no matter how much time may pass.

because for you, he will always be waiting in front of that flickering green light, hoping that the next time those doors open, it will be you once again.

[dykedvonte]

what’s your opinion on how the story of mouth washing would change if Jimmy was captain instead of Curly? Like, if Curly was co captain instead of jimmy, maybe out of pure luck on jimmys part or jimmy had sweetend up to the higher ups in pony express? Sorry if someone’s asked this before, but I think it could be pretty interesting

I think it would be more interesting because I feel like Jimmy would be a different Captain than Curly was through being the perfect worker.

Like I assume he climbed the ranks similarly but the reason he's a bit untouchable is either through black mail or turning a blind eye in a way the company likes. Perhaps he was needed to testify for a case against them and he offered to make them look better. Maybe he'd be loose on procedures that help them cut cost and keep morale up in the worst way. As long as he can do what he wants with that sort of power attached he's their perfect little black sheep.

He'd still crash the ship though, them going bankrupt, likely all the wrongdoings he's committed outside of yknow, assaulting Anya, no longer being covered up and hushed. They can't help him and the story of a Captain that abused his powers for years finally coming to light, headed by the rape of a subordinate. I think the biggest difference is he's genuinely trying to die this time, like I think his ego would be way bigger because his wants were slightly actualized. I think he's reserved in canon because he's still just a nobody with nothing to really control, but here? There's no one above him on this ship and in his mind at all, no Pony Express anymore, he's basically a god.

I feel like as for the others its a but interesting. I honestly think Curly would be a lot happier with the lack of responsibility but just as concerned and possibly more scared of Jimmy. He has to do even more placating because knowing Jimmy, he'd take his anger out on the rest of the crew just to make Curly feel worse about it, he's conditioned in a way where Jimmy makes all his mistakes as Captain feel like Curly's fault. I think Anya would still confide in him and due to this sort of "clarity" (not having the weight of everything on his shoulders) he's be more keen to listen and cover her. He's still not exactly confrontational with Jimmy, he's well aware what the Captain does have access to with the scanner... but maybe in that, when Anya hides the gun he lies for her and says he misplaced it while tidying up the cock-pit. Jimmy can see through his lies but is at least satisfied Curly won't directly call him out still. However, he loses it a bit more now knowing his best friend, the person he gave a nice cushy position to, isn't fully on his side.

I imagine Jimmy gets caught in the crash either because the door jams, sort of a ironic pin in the final statement of how drastically his luck turned or he underestimated the time he had to escape, representing his lack of understanding in true consequence. The message is slightly warped in that it's more about silent opposition as with an inherently bad leader, we'd have it framed as the crew being conflicted in what we would only assume is a botched but successful mutiny, only to see how bad Jimmy was. Going from the post-crash to show Jimmy as a worse and worse leader as it ultimately shows ways to help victims silently and that agency doesn't need to look like bravado. A flip on how every man was ultimaly a bystander in Anya's suffering. Still, it's mostly them covering or helping Anya do more for herself as it is just as, if not more dangerous for the men to create a dynamic that puts her directly into his ire/sights by being openly hostile. It's a good tactic to create outs for victims vs charging in when you know they will most likely be retaliated against directly.

Like her asking Swansea to keep the axe, Curly hiding the gun or Daisuke always trialing her so she's never alone.

I feel like the atmosphere of the game is totally different too. There's something somber in the pre-crash sequences obviously but you can tell everyone was relatively doing fine under Curly's leadership until Jimmy decied to be a homicidal rapist. With Jimmy it's inverted, like the respite after a storm. Anya is still pregnant unfortunately, but seeing as Jimmy is stuck in medical and can't do anything anymore, it's the first time she'd breathing. It's labored and not refreshing but it's easier than in canon, her relief makes it seem likes she happy, helping with the twist. Daisuke is a lot more aware, more shaken about things because he was more involved. He's thinking more about his idea's of keeping things kosher and letting the smile fade, makes him seems a bit more dreary that helps with the twist, as if he's guilty.

I think Swansea is relatively the same, though he's a lot more open of his condemnation of Jimmy, saying he was awful and being a bit to mean that makes it seem like it's too intentional and Jimmy couldn't have been that bad. Curly is most interesting because he's still just a little torn up about it. I don't think he'd take the title as Captain, more so just do things that fit the role as a distraction. His best friend turned out to be this horrible monster. Maybe he was always this monster and he just never got to see. Maybe he saw and was to scared that he'd be a monster to him... more of one at least. He feels an immense guilt that makes it hard for him to have a total disdain for Jimmy and he hates it.

There's a lot I could say on this but I'll probably make an even longer, what if post ladder when I've had time to stew on it.

[5mcsinatrenchcoat]

a bit of emotional ramble on Harding's romance

There's something funny and endearing about playing the silliest damn Rook and see the romanced companion crushing on them.

But also there's something about it especially in Harding's romance. And only partially because Rook being a lovestruck fool is a big part of most of their scenes by default. ("Knew you couldn't resist my moves" oh my god, shut up indeed :D said affectionately.)

But like. I made my Rook purple silly (coping mechanisms yada-yada). And the amount of times she couldn't land a joke in a romance-related scene is truly something.

And Lace does look exasperated every time, but also... lovingly? Like, sure, Rook is a fool, and here she goes again joking, but that's her fool. (And Rook does make up for every joke with genuine support at the same time, so it never cheapens the interaction in any way).

And I am politely putting the rest under the cut because pictures are incoming.

And then like. I somehow made my Rook especially smiley in CC (is it a dwarf thing? are the eyebrows at fault? is it something else? idk but she looks noticeably more smiley at almost any given time than my other Rook or my friends' Rooks. In a silly way).

Like, look at her.

She just walked in and Emmrich told her to "stand over here, please". Doesn't know what's going on. Just happy to be there. Look at that goofy face.

And.

Uh-huh! She sees that goof and is fucking smitten instantly!

I don't know I just find it all so sweet and endearingly funny I'm gonna explode. Get yourself a woman who will groan at your jokes but also love them. She's the "Oh my god she's so stupid I can't believe I'm going to sleep with her. No, no, I'm gonna" meme in the best way.

And the best part is all that kinda pays off?

After returning from the [that one spoiler place] and while having the romance scene in Rook's room I, after some consideration, had Rook joke again. And holy shit that time it sounded. Defeated. Sorta self-deprecating. She barely finished the joke, looked at her feet, it was voiced and played off as SUCH a poor attempt at shielding behind the laughs.

And Harding gently shushes her. And Rook says okay.

(And also later. When they sit together. THAT'S when the purple options finally land and make her laugh. Two times in a row, in fact. Which could mean nothing)

I don't know where I'm going with this, this is not an analysis of any kind, I'm just rambling. There's something about the dynamic that gets me. The core is the same regardless of the tone - the support, the trust, the mutual "together" part. But this added layer just makes me so squishy about them.

(In case of my Rook it's also, accidentally, a mirror. She had very rough first 15-ish years of her life, and her "If I'm funny people will treat me better" is such a mirror to Lace's "If I agree with people they will like me".

And then they meet and get into all this bullshit together and get to see behind each other's masks in real time.)