#like he actually enrages me sooo much

[heartmaddie]

i have this opp that i'm supposed to be friends with.

okay wait i need to deeply explain this.

so basically i enjoy reading as a hobby, and i USED to enjoy reading murakami when i was like 15 (i read norwegian wood and men without women and thought he was god) so i reccomended him to this boy that i used to be friends with (he liked bukowski and 1984 by george orwell) and he STOLE my book taste i'm not even kidding.

like i had a carefully curated book taste of asian literature and eastern and western philosophy and it was so beautiful AND THEN THIS MF WENT ONTO MY STORYGRAPH AND STOLE ALL OF IT FROM ME.

and now i HATE murakami after reading that abysmal book kafka on the shore because he doesn't respect women and god his plots are so awful someone get that man a new job.

anyways this guy lets call him alex he's the biggest pos i've ever met in my life. like he's an actual bop i'm not kidding. but he thinks he's really niche and cool and awesome because he reads books and smokes weed n shit AND BRUH.

he thought he was smarter than me until i pulled thry with a 96.5 atar and he got a 91 or smth LOOOOOLLL

anyways he is now stealing my music taste because someone followed one of my playlists on spotify and now all the songs on his instagram notes are from MY PLAYLIST... BRO U ARE A MAN U ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO LISTEN TO SULLEN GIRL BY FIONA APPLE.

i don't hate men but holy shit i hate this one sooo much.

[thegoldencontracts]

hello!! this is my first request!! can u write azul saving reader from drowning and gets angry at them out of worry? not realizing that he confessed to them just now until it sinks in?

Hiii sorry this took so long! This concept is sooo good, hope I managed to do it justice aughhh

Because-!

Summary: Azul saves you after you fall into the Octavinelle pool. You're just hoping he doesn't expect repayment- Wait, why is he so upset?

Notes: There isn't much focus on the feeling of drowning, but there's still some. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Also, credit for the divider here!

If a Darwin award existed, you were really one of the prime candidates to win it, it seemed.

You'd fallen into a pool. Actually, that was fairly normal. There was a very real risk of people falling into pools, that was why most public pools hired life-guards.

Octavinelle's pool, however, didn't abide by that policy, and so there was no one around as you'd fallen in. The panic was setting in at a rapid pace.

You couldn't breathe. Water was filling up your lungs, and you couldn't even cry out for help, and you couldn't breathe-

A splash. Someone was in the pool. Were they- here to save you?

They were approaching - closer, and closer. But you didn't get to see whether they saved you or not, because before they could even get near you, your vision went dark.

You woke up. That was good. Were you- in the afterlife or something? The silver-haired boy above you did seem angelically pretty, after all...

"You're awake."

You felt your face heat up. Nevermind. You were very much alive, and that guy you just called pretty was, in fact, Azul Ashengrotto, Octavinelle Housewarden, your crush, and maybe your friend. The jury was still out on that one. Azul never really admitted his friendships, but he gave you free stuff, so that was probably a good sign.

Would this be free, though? Even with Azul's "no free lunch" mentality, this seemed a bit too far.

"So," you started, voice hoarse. "Do you, uh, need something."

Azul looked at you for a second, expression all too void of emotion. Then, he spoke.

"What exactly were you thinking?" He demanded. "Approaching the pool in spite of your lack of ability to swim is the height of foolishness! If you truly wanted to come here, you should've simply asked me to accompany you!"

An uncharacteristically enraged Azul yelling at you was definitely- something to wake up to.

"I almost died- dude-"

"Precisely!" Azul said, eyes still burning with rage. "Were I not there, you wouldn't-"

He sighed.

"Don't do something so foolish again."

That was it? Azul Ashengrotto, not even expecting repayment? Weird.

"Listen," you said. "It's awesome that you care, but I can handle myself. I've learned my lesson."

"You quite nearly died," Azul said through grit teeth. "What if that happens once more, without me there? You'd die! And even if it weren't for my love for you, I simply cannot have-"

He cut himself off at the realization of what he'd just said. You took a second to process it too. Azul- liked you?

The universe had taken pity on you! Your crush liked you back!

"I- er, forgive me," he said, turning away his head in shame. "I suppose I got a tad carried away. Please, just allow me to accompany you the next time you come here."

"Why don't you also accompany me on a date sometime?" You said, before you could stop yourself. Azul looked at you in shock for a second, before clearing his throat.

"Are you being serious about this invitation?"

You nodded.

"Dead serious."

"Then," he said. "I'd love to accompany you."

And though you could sense he still had a lot more chastising to you, that you hadn't yet escaped scolding, nor the physical consequences of almost drowning, you couldn't help but feel oddly warm inside.

It seemed you'd found a silver lining here.

[rvspecter]

You ever get the feeling Mike just doesn’t understand Harvey? I know Marvey is really popular in the fandom but I don’t know I just feel like whenever Mike accuses Harvey of being “uncaring” I’m always baffled because Harvey cares so so sooo much it’s weird Mike doesn’t see it. Idk it’s like Mike never cared enough about Harvey to really learn who he is

excuse me sweet anon FUCKING DE-ANON URSELF RIGHT NOW

This is what I have been SCREAMING ABOUT FOR A CENTURY !!!!!

he repeatedly calls harvey heartless or uncaring (oh he doesn’t care about his clients enough or mike enough or blahblahblah ENDLESS)

and it wud be ok if he had just met harvey sure that’s the opinion harvey wants u to have of him. but how is it that after uhh however amount of time AND EVERYTHING HARVEY HAS DONE FOR HIM - how does that opinion not change

“MIKE NEVER CARED ENOUGH ABOUT HARVEY TO LEARN WHO HE IS” <- YESSSSSS!!!! actually enrages me

like when louis called harvey cold - i totally got it considering how harvey treated him. but mike? mike calls harvey cold from a place of judgement. the guy judges him because he’s a corporate lawyer. he thinks harvey is beneath him UMMMMMMMMMM

[pristine-rose]

sooo Columbina and Arlecchino with a female darling they are possessive of and has long hair? maybe like a new harbinger darling and childe just won't stop challenging her and something that gets on arlecchino's nerves more than columbinas even pantalone talks to the new harbinger sometimes with gifts in hand just to piss off arlecchino

hnnggg y’all know the harbingers are my fav in this game <3 this’ll keep a similar theme to the hair-brushing-doll fic for arlecchino that i wrote previously, just bc i thought it fit :]

arlecchino and columbina — devil take the hindmost

warnings : sfw, female reader, mentioned to have long hair ( enough to brush ), feat. childe and pantalone, themes of possession / jealousy / and “jokes” of capivity , columbina has ‘truth’ powers similar to aponia

“that’s lady signora’s melody, isn’t it?”

“indeed.” arlecchino smiled a bit when she answered you, lips curling up in a moment of slight tranquility at the mention of the late harbinger—one could almost believe she was kind. and with the same grievance, the third harbinger continued to hum such sweet notes from behind you, amidst her fingers threading through the strands of your hair. “columbina knows it by heart.”

the third harbinger made no response, instead choosing to continue humming behind you, dainty fingers threading through your locks. the vocals parting via sealed lips were gentle-sounding, very much like her own appearance. gentle… you’ve come to learn that columbina succeeded in deception.

“where did these come from?”

arlecchino knew no boundaries as she lifted up your wrist with undeniable force. those keen eyes of hers bore only a battlefield, and it was no different when the slashes on pupils matched the faint lines and scratches on the underside of your wrist.

looks like hiding them was no use.

“so unsightly…” columbina mumbled. and it was the first and only thing she’s said to you all day—choosing to only comment in distaste when her play-doll was marked up.

arlecchino glared. “they looked stiched.” the room almost felt colder. “expertly, so. as if a certain doctor did them.” the silence already bit at your stomach. they don’t like it when other people make modifications to what they claim as their own. “it seems like someone here got them in a rush.”

those wretched eyes were settled on you now. and you would’ve avoided them, had not columbina so gracefully clenched her fist at your hair, forcing you to look up. “tell me, who gave these to you?”

you would’ve lied under a guise of self-infliction, you really would’ve. but it was almost as if the mental, twisted powers of the angel behind you hammered nails down your tongue, forcing you to spit out the bloody truth of your comrade.

“childe.” his name felt dry against your throat. “he wanted to spar, and i got hurt.”

arlecchino’s eyes shifted darkly. and somehow—in some sick, decaying way—you wished the bore a look of sympathy. but she would never give anything of the sort, no. only anger fueled from selfishness that someone else would make their mark.

“o, dearest of knights,” columbina sweetly muttered against your hair, calling out the attention of her other harbinger companion. “you haven’t noticed yet another grotesque addition to our darling.”

as arlecchino’s eyes dipped downwards towards your neck, the air in your lungs suddenly restricted.

“a golden accessory dangling from her neck,” columbina whispered so ghastly disapprovingly. “there’s only one man i know who would gift such an expensive, yet tasteless piece of jewelry…”

arlecchino scoffed, “so shes flocking along with the men of our ranks now, is that what is happening?” she seemed enraged. to witness this demented side of her was no matter to take lightly with a temper like hers; it would actually make you thankful of the kind hand that was still choking your airflow,—for if it was arlecchino’s torn, inked monstrous of a hand, your skin would be in shreds by now.

“w…wait…” you croaked out through shallow, constricted breaths. the thin fingers of the third harbinger felt like sharp spider webs at your skin. “please… let me explain…”

“explain well, foolish one,” said the harbinger behind you.

“they’re… just my friends…”

—which was truly, a completely idiotic thing to say. but you were exasperated as it was not even a lie. childe just wanted a friendly spar, simple as that. he would get dottore to stitch your wounds to avoid this exact occurrence from happening. and, pantalone really just gave you this necklace as a welcoming gift for joining the harbinger ranks.

and yet, the chain of that same gold necklace was being clawed at by the knave. she did not care whether she tore at the skin of your collarbone, or at the pout of columbina—all she cared was to tear that accessory to crumbling chains on the hard floor.

“my knight,” columbina frowned, and you took a gasp of breath as her hand suddenly loosened. “you’ve shaken her up. look, our darling is trembling, and her blood is dripping to the new clothes i just dressed her in…”

shaking? were you really trembling so much in the third harbinger’s arms?

“to hell with it,” arlecchino scowled. “if she thinks she can be oh-so good friends with the others, then she better learn to take a scar that damned doctor cannot stitch.”

“but i want her to all clean and pretty for us,” columbina whined. “so mean… i can’t play with a doll that’s covered in her blood…”

a doll… that’s all you were to them. not a fellow member of the fatui, or even a harbinger.

it was times like these you missed lady signora—these cold, chilling nights when columbina returned to humming the late harbinger’s tune and cleaning you up.

but not for kindness, no. just for display.

hi hi i’m still here !! i just left tumblr for a little bit because honestly it did not feel rewarding or worth it to post when no one—like not even my friends—can see my fics since they get labeled so fast… 😭

but we’ll work on it, or i’ll just give up and make a new blog LOLOLOL

[murkysweetleaf]

So I was looking at the reviews on Amazon for book one,

I am feeling a little bit enraged guys. I might need to be put down y'all.

What. The. Fuck. Is. This BULLSHIT? That is not at all what it's about. We all know that. Losing his humanity??? Excuse me??????? It just proves that people wouldn't understand dragons if they existed in our world, and the fact that the person says that Laurence loses his humanity while he becomes a arguably better person just because he sleeps with Jane and becomes a more open minded person is just so... I cannot explain how angry this review makes me feel. He loses his humanity by bonding with an intelligent creature, and sleeping with another female captain, wow, just fucking wow. And in the year of our lord, 2024! This review is so closed minded and stupid, I can only explain in the most simple of ways because I am so sooo SOOOOO disssapointed at the lack of media literacy in this age. The point that he makes is that the woman he has been devoted to for years and suddenly nothing to him is because Laurence realizes that they cannot be together, Edith has denied him that, and he hasn't fully moved on, but he's trying his damn best to. And the "breeding" for the dragons? It comes out of care for the dragons, dumbass. And the emotional intimacy that he mentions is because dragons are, for the most part, intelligent creatures, and if they aren't so much, they are still loved and cared for by their captains and crews.

You can clearly see that I think the person who left this review is just as bright as a broken lamp, but I should at least acknowledge that Laurence changes with his circumstances, but that does not mean he is a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, he is actually the exact opposite. Yes, he changes from a prude to someone slightly less so, and he values Temeraire above himself, but that does not mean he has lost his humanity. He has kindled a very caring relationship with Temeraire, and think the person doesn't like that. A man calling a dragon "my dear", I have noticed, a lot of people don't like, which makes no sense, have you ever heard of a healthy parent-child relationship?

I just find this to be one of the dumbest things I have ever read, and I cannot fathom how sorry I feel for the man who made this post, I hope he lets go of the stupid traditional ways that he has clung on to, he is truly like book one Laurence, and he does not at all like that.

[sophsicle]

OMGGG THE NEW CHAPTER WAS SOOO GOOD

thank u so much for writing this, i’m glad you took some time for yourself bc you deserve it. I’m absolutely so excited for James and Remus’s reunion and eventually Sirius and James like omg so much stuff is about to come out and i’m so unprepared. additionally, after this chapter i have a feeling evan is the mcd sooo 😔😔 I was honestly so sure it was Sirius but maybe there’s two lol (probably not but i love sad things haha) ALSO my bby narcissa 😓 come back please!! I feel so bad for regulus it’s not even funny but the way walburga didn’t even try to deny it had me actually so shocked and enraged i can’t even. and did i mention i’m so excited for the james and remus reunion?? probably, but i actually can’t stress it enough like that will be the highlight of my year. After checking the fic almost every day for months (i have no life), i’m so happy you updated again bc it genuinely means everything to me. you’re so amazing and your writing is beautiful !! okay that’s it bye!

THANK YOU!!!

i am truly vibrating with anticipation at all the messy messy reunions that are about to happen

also someone save Frank, like he already had to deal with James and Evan and now he is going to have to deal with the twins????? he does not deserve this

[youremyheaven]

Also! Lunar natives and “alternative” medicine is an interesting pattern because my shravana mom is into alternative and traditional medicine as well! She is still wary of the medicine I take for adhd but luckily I don’t give a shit because I like not having my life in shambles. My ketu in hasta father had much more nonsense to spout about me getting medicine to help with my mental health but also a Saturnian. He really believes sugar and not drinking enough water and meditation and other deranged pseudocures (for mental health issues HE CAUSED) are better than evil, addictive, control pills, also known as basic medical treatment for mental health issues. It’s so bizarre because both of them are very smart so like 😭I wonder what that’s about. Like you’re worried about the psychiatric medication that has helped me not want to kill myself because…what exactly 🗿. Is the water turning the frogs gay too???

It’s funny because Claire Nakti’s video talked about Lunar natives being so logical and empirical when they’re actually extremely illogical if it hurts their feeewings or whatever, honestly it’s so annoying because they will also condescend like they’re just wiser than you. It honestly makes me mad still because your delusional bias does not make someone doing correct procedures bad? Like…not everything has to fit your elaborate narrative of “logic and sense” for it to be correct and two things can be true at once.

Lunar natives are extremely emotionally biased in their logic, as all are humans, but they are sooo deep in it and are self aware to the extent that they will get defensive if you point it out but that’s about it. The most enraging part to me is that they’ll be so hypocritical when you have the same behavior on an OCCASION and then treat YOU like you’re crazy and overemotional all the time while they’re projecting all kinds of delusional nonsense onto you 24/7 but somehow THEY’RE walking on eggshells around YOU. I’m obviously kinda venting (mercurial apology :( ) but I hate this stupid ass behavior so much. Are you stupid or smart, pick one and stop exhausting everyone around you! They’re like ALLERGIC to standing on business almost until they don’t have to work too hard to see past themselves. It’s unendingly exhausting. I can’t wait to live alone 😭 no matter how much I love my shravana mama.

Claire said Lunars are logical??? 😂😂😂LMFAOO IM CACKLING

The Moon is the opposite of logic 😭 atleast Mercurials (despite all their other tendencies) are actually by textbook definition, logical and smart. Moon people think with their feelings and confuse them for facts

[virginmiri99]

It enrages me how much people praise his makeup or "feminine" outfits because uneven asymmetrical eyeliner and a shein skirt with an ugly crop top is nawt all that.. if a woman wore that she'd literally be burned at the stake but for ranboo it's "omg he's so comfortable in his gender" like girl

The way everyone went crazy over that "goth night" picture of ranboo charlie moonzy and jinx actually pmo sooo bad 😭😭 like black Amazon bondage gear and black eyeshadow is NOTTT goth and also just looks so bad 😭

dont remind me of that disgusting crime omfg

[heterophobicmaxanne]

sending you an ask cause you've sent me some <3 when do you think royjamie get together do you think it's during the time of the show or?

awwww, thank you, that is sooo nice!

i think there are honestly a bunch of ways they could get/could have gotten together but i think i'm going to focus on the canon compliant ones - and i think it largely depends on roy and on when and how he stops repressing his feelings for jamie and how much angsting he does about his role as manager and the ethical implications of dating someone on the team

i'm going to put this under a cut because it's def going to get long

so sort of the most obvious/maybe healthiest one is roy does some therapy and with the help of dr. sharon realises that he deserves to be happy and that the way he's repressing his wants and needs because he's afraid of the pain that would come from not getting them met is not in fact at all healthy and directly tied to his anger issues. i think then he'd probably need a couple more sessions until he could actually recognise the affection he has for jamie as what it is, namely a big fat crush - i think the fact that he's low key miserable about not getting to do one-on-one 4 am training with jamie anymore because he's to busy as manager plays a pretty big role in that realisation, and the whole fight over keeley thing also plays into it, like he'd recognise that seeing jamie and keeley hug made him afraid that things were changing and because he's a repressed idiot he concluded it was about keeley when in truth it was about jamie - and then he'd probably need to like lie down for several weeks to recover from the shock and the horror agonize about how to handle the situation ethically for a while, call in the diamond dogs for help and make a plan with them that he then presents to rebecca. and only then would he talk to jamie about it, low key expecting jamie to laugh in his face or tell him to fuck off, and i think he'd be genuinely shocked when jamie is immediately like "yep this is happening i am now Roy Kent's boyfriend"

and that's sweet and healthy and good but it's a little too hinged for me, like as good and sweet as that is, it lacks that certain je-ne-sais-quoi that makes their relationship so fun and fascinating, which is why i prefer a bunch of other options!

one option that i see that is also canon compliant is that jamie does in fact go to see his father in rehab. it goes well for a while and then james tartt turns out to still be an abusive piece of shit because it was never the addiction that made him abusive, james tartt is just like that so he says something shitty and terrible to jamie, maybe something homophobic about colin who's post-match kiss with michael has gone viral or maybe something shitty about jamie becoming a midfielder and no longer dominating on the field. jamie stands up to his father but doesn't feel entirely good about it - he's supposed to be forgiving him, helping him become a better person, the way people have forgiven and helped jamie and what does it say about him that he can't do the same thing for his father? he spirals out about it in a way that's similar to the start of mom city, roy notices, finds out what's going on, including about ted's advice and is just Absolutely Enraged. Completely And Utterly Furious. Cannot Speak Will Commit Murder Livid. he gives jamie the best advice he can give him through the rage blinders he gets, and then he facetimes ted and almost murders him through the phone screen. and ted realises his mistake, apologizes to jamie for the advice and for just walking away after the man city richmond match in s1, and the next time ted talks to roy he makes a suggestive comment about roy's feelings vis-a-vis jamie, maybe something about how he never could've seen roy and jamie's relationship developing into that direction when he got to richmond, and waggles his eyebrows and that does not go over well with roy. not at all. but jamie's doing better and roy's absolutely delighted about it and he can't stop thinking about ted's comment and finally, considering how intensely angry and protective he was and how delighted he is to see jamie happy again, he realises it's true and probably needs to like lie down for several weeks to recover from the shock and the horror again does the same "figuring out how to make a move on jamie that's ethical enough for him to do it"-spiel as in the first option

(leslie higgins voice) another one: jamie gets hurt pretty badly towards the final minutes of a match and roy's brain just short-circuits and only barely reboots enough for him to force himself to make it through with some semblance of composure because he's the gaffer and he cannot fall apart about jamie getting carried of the pitch on a stretcher. the second the whistle blows, roy essentially barrels into the treatment room and pulls jamie into a hug that is so fucking tight that jamie has to essentially tap him on the shoulder at some point because he's about to black out from lack of oxygen. and that leads to jamie making a dumb joke about how he's not dying "jesus grandad get your crap together you're going to make the medics think you're in love with me" and roy's brain is still rebooting which means the repression mechanism hasn't fully come online yet so he can hear that sentence, put it into the context of all the other emotions he's been feeling and realise that yeah that is essentially why he is reacting the way that he is reacting and even say "what if i am" which leads to a very passionate kiss, a number of death threats if any of this gets out and some vaguely traumatized richmond team medics

i can also see roy just being absolutely fucking miserable about no longer getting to do one-on-one training with jamie because 1) he does not have the time anymore (now that he actually has to read the fucking scouting reports and all that other shit he lied about as assistant coach) and 2) it would be way more unethical and favouritism and so on than it was when he was an assistant coach. but he doesn't make the connection because why would he, he barely even likes jamie no matter what phoebe said and no matter the fact that he looks at the kunt shirt and smiles like the biggest fucking idiot until phoebe points out that he's managed to swear so much in just a week that he owes her what he usually owes her after like two months and asks whether it's because he's no longer seeing jamie every day? and roy wants to say no fuck off but because it's phoebe he can't and unfortunately that moment of hesitation he has while he tries to find a nicer way of phrasing it is enough for him to realise that yeah actually she's right and that's not normal why is that happening and it triggers a chain reaction that ends with him realising his feelings

and for the fourth canon compliant option, we have jamie getting a little too drunk at the post-match celebration because he's no longer in training so vanilla vodka here he comes and then drunkenly telling roy that actually it was a fucking dick move to invite him for a beer and to butter him up only to then bring up keeley and ask jamie to "step aside" especially considering the giant fucking torch jamie's carrying for roy and roy is like "the what" and jamie tells him again that yeah he has always had a pretty big fucking crush on roy and how did roy not notice despite the poster and him pulling roy through richmond on a leash and amsterdam? and jamie admits that yeah he did act a little like a dick about it, esp to keeley, but roy was being a much bigger dick not just to keeley but also to jamie and roy is like yeah you’re right i was a dick and i’m sorry but I did mean the proud of you stuff I said and jamie tells roy nice cool good and he'll see roy once they start 4am training again in the preseason and roy's like "wait why do you still want to train with me don't you think this is awkward as fuck" and jamie's like "nope this changes literally nothing" and then fucks off to brazil for a bit and again roy is miserable but once the preseason comes closer he gets more and more excited about the prospect of seeing jamie again and at some point he internally scolds himself for acting like a schoolgirl with a crush and that's when he realises that whoops yeah jamie is not the only one carrying a torch

but also i think there are a few moments in the show that open up fun little avenues for canon divergent royjamie, for example:

jamie does not come back into his childhood bedroom when he does in the show, keeley summarily rejects roy, roy wallows in it a little but realises it doesn't even hurt as much as he thought it would and there's even a part of him that's relieved which is weird why is he relieved and why is that relief so tied to nothing changing between him and jamie and whoops yeah there it is the realisation he has a Feeling

there's the slightly more angsty option where roy only realises he has feelings for jamie when jamie gets hurt during the match against man city (which i'm SUCH a sucker for!)

roy is in the room for the "everyone looks at jamie after beards comment about there being more people in this locker room who are gay"-moment and when jamie says i'm flattered roy feels something like excitment and maybe even hope and like why is he feeling that those feelings make no sense there unless he was interested in ja - whoops okay he is interested in jamie someone kill him now

and of course, amsterdam! i can imagine like a very deeply cute moment where after learning how to ride a bike roy just looks over at jamie and feels deeply content and comfortable and happy and realises wait that's how it felt with keeley why does it feel so similar with jamie is it because - yes it is jesus mary and fuckface joseph and then he falls of his bike and when jamie's standing over him laughing his ass off about it he just either pulls him down into a kiss or lets jamie pull him up and then uses the momentum to barrel into a hug with jamie and during that hug he pulls back a little and just gives jamie a look and jamie immediately fucking kisses roy

and then there's the option i'm playing around with in my fic, where roy and keeley break up way earlier than they do in the show, roy drunk-dials jamie on accident and then things develop from there

[ayarsi]

Good Omentober + Fictober (6)

Good Omentober Day 6 - the Bentley

Fictober Prompt #13 - "Come with me, hurry"

Fanfiction - Good Omens

Rating - G

Wordcount - 436

(I know me posting my fics isn't consistent but it's the best I can do considering my schedule. I want to cry because I really wanted to post and write consistently but I forgot our exams are on the last week of October and I have to study and all that TvT. I don't really care if I write the rest of the fics and post it in November since I'm just writing these for myself really, sooo yeah that's what I'm going to do.)

Va Va Voom!

-----------------------

Behind the window, a timid angel stands. He’s not normally this quiet--in fact, he was actually ecstatic prior to returning to the bookshop. The angel had a story for the demon sleeping on the vintage sofa and awakened her to tell her. He assumed she would be happy to see him again yet he was wrong. Seeing me dressed in a new style enraged the demon, sending her storming outside to inspect me and leaving the poor angel.

“My car is NOT yellow. It has NEVER been and NEVER will be,” the demon hisses. He glares at the nervous angel who was still hiding behind the blinds. The angel breathes deeply. He opened the door and slowly walks towards the demon and I. Ooh, I can sense the drama.

The angel mutters something, but I didn’t hear it. The demon didn’t too, apparently.

“Speak up, angel.”

Who does she think she is, with her hands on her hips like a mother scolding her child? I don’t think she considers her a child.

The angel’s nervousness seems to be much more than it was a few moments ago.

“I.. Well, it’s…”

��IT’S WHAT?”

“No need to shout, dear.”

Moody bastard.

“It’s pretty, is all,” the angel adds.

“I- Angel, this is the second rime you’ve done this. Changed my car without permission-”

“Oh. So I need to ask you first before changing the car is what you mean?”

The demon doesn’t answer for a few seconds. She looks surprised and at a loss for words. She’s always like this, though. Always whenever the angel is around.

“Crowley, dear. I am terribly sorry for changing your Bentley’s color again. I was… too excited to show you something and got ahead of myself.”

Ah, here it is. I should get the songs ready.

“Our car.”

If the angel had a tail, it would’ve definitely wagged--that’s what I’m seeing. He’s got stars in his eyes (literally) and those stars are glowing brighter than ever. Even the demon looks like he wants to fly away by how he’s looking at the sky. Is he holding back a cough or a laugh? Maybe a cough.

I like it when they get along. It’s really cute. I’m cute. Yellow really suits me but the grumpy demon won’t let me have it, so all thanks to the angel for calming her down and letting me keep it. At least just this once. I’ll play their song in return as thanks.

The demon sighs. “Get in, angel.”

The angel still has that dreamy gaze.

“Angel. Get in the car and come with me, hurry.”

[notshuttingup]

first time playing ULTRAKILL

i've been very interested in ultrakill for awhile and i decided to buy the game since it went on sale for steams summer sale thing. i just beat act 2 and i have a lot of thoughts...

HOLY SHIT!!!! THIS GAME IS SO FUCKING GOOD.

i really appreciate their accessibility features! i'm not the best at FPS so these features let me enjoy the game. i played on lenient mode for the entirety (don't make fun of me lol) and it let me have a good time w/o getting too frustrated. my favorite weapon was the sharpshooter revolver. it felt really good to use (probably because i was just mesmerized by the spinning animation that's used for the alt lol). i am aware that the marksman revolver can actually be pretty overpowered w/ the coins if you pull it off correctly, but i am...TERRIBLE at aiming so i didn't use it much.

ultrakill has a fantastic overall aesthetic and look. the music is also incredible. i just loved looking at all the stuff. each layer had it's own distinct theming and i loved that. i think my favorite levels was probably wrath in act 2. i really liked the ferryman boat. i just really liked all the water theming! it was super cool.

i went through the game just straight and not really looking for secrets. i think i am going to play through with a guide for the secrets so i can see all of them. i'm very intrigued by the lore and story and i assume that some of the secrets will include story/lore bits.

v2 was cool to fight! the shadow to my sonic /j. apparently if you smack it with it's own arm in it's second boss fight it gets enraged which is HILARIOUS and a great attention to detail. i was a little disappointed that it got destroyed at the end of clair de soleil. i would've loved to see more of it.

GABRIEL. i have to talk about gabriel. i understand why everyone goes insane over him. he's just sooo incredibly entertaining. his design, personality, and voice acting are all just incredible. i was SOO taken aback when he called me an "insignificant fuck" after his first boss fight i just was not expecting it. it's like WOW you can kill me dead but calling me the F-WORD??? uncool. /j

gabriels SECOND boss fight though was REALLY cool. his "apostate of hate" boss fight i think you'd call it? the intro was SICK! him being at the organ and then slamming on the keys etc etc. it was very cool (i found it a little goofy because of how dramatic it was but it was great the goofiness is a positive not a negative.) and then once it's his second phase and his enraged status goes away i was like "GABRIEL ARE YOU HAVING FUN :0 ARE YOU HAVING FUN FIGHTING ME" it made me SO giddy. you're my best friend gabriel idc what you say. you were having a good time we have to hang out more/beat the shit out of each other.

AND THEN THE ENDING OF ACT 2!!! WAGHAHGHHGAH!!!!! I LOVE INSURRECTIONS!!!

overall, ultrakill is GOOD. it's GREAT. i had so much fun with it. i'm definitely going to look up a guide for all the secrets and stuff and do all that stuff. maybe even tackle some of the challenges lol.

[deercharm]

Having finished dawntrail, I wanted to write down some of my eclectic thoughts on it

- I love wuk Lamat. I love her journey over the story to learn about her people to better serve them. I love the "the absence of war is not peace". She was a phenomenal protagonist that we passed down the mantle of hear feel think to. She is incredibly darling to me and I would hold her hand on a dirigible to ease her nerves any day 10/10

- this game does not have a great track record of letting primary female characters be anything but white, petite (I'll never forgive them for white midlander lyse) and conventionally pretty in a feminine way, so I find Lamatyi sooo refreshing in that way. That makes the hate against her all the more enraging

- I love erenville. Why does his mom have an american accent

- I hated the mamook arc. They did not give eugenics and forced breeding the time and energy it deserved. Dead babies (stillborn) is maybe not the main take away you know? I liked the concept of "maybe some cultures do fucked up things, but instead of just grimacing at them in judgment we should understand the variables which drove them to that" but it fell short for me

- bakool Ja ja 180d too quickly, it felt so rushed and undeserved

- his dad sucked we gotta stop redeeming shitty abusive dads

- overall it was slow but I thoroughly enjoyed the first half. It gave great development to wuk Lamat, and I genuinely loved learning about the different cultures and doing their feats. (Felt weird that they were all """"beast tribes"""" though, same issue withe Oliphants in radz)

- I loved koana and wuk Lamat relationship. I love that he surrended for her and she in turn shared dawn servant with him. Beautiful

- cowboy arc was weird but I liked the hesparro and liked the acknowledgement that technological progress hurts the environment. Eager to see where they go with that as erenville seems interested in it

- I am a grandma and generally dont like my scifi in fantasy, but I overall enjoyed the second half of the story for it's THEMES

- I have extremely mixed feelings on sphene. I hate her physical design. I'm so tired of 16 yr old looking uncanny cutesy child women (I love u metieon but I don't love ur design). I found her SUPER GENTLE LOVING PERFECT EMBODIMENT OF FEMININE AUTHORITY tiring and uninspired. I liked that she was a fucked up robot though. But also like, when she's like "I gotta tell you guys something... Actually jk" was that meant to imply she doesn't want genocide deep down actually and just big brother is watching?? I was confused by that and kinda hope that's not the case bc her being convinced of her path is so much more compelling. I'm scared Abt them showing her crown with the ending credits... Pls don't bring her back

- Zoraal ja resolution was good. His son was weird (who is ur mom?????) but it felt like a Chekhov's gun so they could have control of Alexandria feasibly fall to someone on the Good Side at the end. I kinda wish they made gulool ja ja more morally grey, he was a little too perfect wise king for me idk

- I rlly liked erenville mom. I wanna know how she died!!!!

- Alexandria's fucked up soul culture is so interesting. I laughed so hard when they said THE CLOUD.

- the final map was maybe my favorite part of the game. I love the incredibly bold choice to disable it and make it bleak and depressing. I love that we didn't Find Another Way with the endless

- I am extremely not immune to graha tia gondola date or ice cream throat goat

- environments, dungeons, and trials were stunning

- raid is stupid in a great way I love the fights and music

- I love the scions as much as anyone but have found that they feel a bit stagnant and solved. There's never any friction between them and they're all just Good Guys and often feel interchangeable in cutscenes, but I feel like the limiting of them, splitting them up, and having such a new cast remedied that

- I love to criticism but fundamentally dawntrail good!!!!!!

[girltomboy]

The Exorcist: Believer

Is it actually a sequel? I haven't watched the first one or any other oops so I don't know if the story is connected in any way to it or if it's just a reinvention/retelling of the first story. But even though I heard some questionable takes on it, I still had a good time seeing it.

Before seeing it I saw a bunch of people criticizing it for "anti-abortion messages" because the protagonist chooses to save his baby daughter rather than his wife during childbirth. That was a premature assessment and I don't understand why people peddled that as legitimate criticism of the movie lol. It's true that in the beginning one might be misled to believe that he chooses the baby's life over his wife's, but this choice is never explicitly expressed, only implied, since we then see the little girl living with her dad 13 years later. Later on in the movie we find out through the devil's possession and a flashback that Victor had actually chosen to save his wife. Why or how the baby came to survive instead of her mother, it's either not revealed or I didn't catch it. However, I was both relieved and enraged upon this discovery, because the movie didn't end up having any abortion-shaming messages (aside from... the devil's words during the possession, which. I don't think can be fairly called endorsements by the movie lol anyone who's ever watched a horror movie before knows that), but I had believed the unfair criticism and had gone into the theater with low expectations - not necessarily a bad thing but I admit I had battled some frustration at the thought that my friend was taking me to see a movie with anti-abortion undertones.

I was surprised but not shocked by Katherine's dying despite being 'chosen' by her father, because I noticed that the demon had never actually mentioned whether the choice would save or kill one of the girls. It was a pleasant film maneuver, but my friend was saddened by Katie's death, because she was her favorite out of the two girls. I admit my favorite was Angela, but I wish they had played with her personality more, like Katie's church scene for example. That was one of the most memorable moments of the movie, but I find it hard to think of a similar, iconic one of Angela's. I also admit there were a few parts of the movie that were totally out of place and I didn't really get their point in the big picture. Ellen's role was questionable, the ex-nun (who looks really familiar but I can't pinpoint where I've seen her before!)'s entire presence, the Catholic priest's role as well, the Protestant pastor's. I mean I get *why* they were there, but they just seemed soooo far away from the movie's plot, story, point.

I noticed that through Ellen's character they tried hard to deliver a message on religion, which is that regardless of faith, for many people religion is a way of finding community, and I agree with it and appreciate it. As an ex-religious person (?? debatable if I was ever truly religious, but don't let me digress) I recognize how much the church facilitates the creation and solidification of a tight-knit community, something that is almost impossible to find and be a part of if you're not a religious person. And I see this in my adult, non-religious life. That's probably one of the only aspects I've ever appreciated about my church: the people in it. But the people can also poison it, so that's probably the only pro-religion tool they could find to use in their movie. I don't want to unfairly label this movie as pro-religion though - even though it's quite obvious from the title & the fact that Victor, the non-believer, comes around and says a (Christian) prayer during his daughter's possession - it was just one of my subjective impressions. But, I mean, it IS a movie about a devil possession, sooo...

Overall, it wasn't a horrible movie, not like I was expecting it to be. Visually it's a very beautiful movie - it's not lost on me that it was set in autumn - and the characters are likeable and compelling. I wasn't blown away by the amount of actual horror in it, it seemed more like a drama to me, but there *was* a guy in the theatre who kept shielding his eyes any time there seemed to be a jump scare round the corner, so perhaps my horror standards are a bit high. I ended up being happy with it, even though my work bestie was terribly disappointed by the fact that Katherine died, she loved that little girl so much. I was like... you know it's a horror movie, right? Many of them don't have happy endings, and you shouldn't ever expect them to 😭 the ending seemed logical to me, and beautifully twisted. But it's not like I wanted either of the kids to die. Just appreciated how they went about it.

It's gotta be kind of a 7/10, maybe I've been watching TOO many awful horror movies prior to this one, but I didn't leave the theater too disappointed.

[urdinosaurs]

Broooo that most recent one shot u made with Hobie was beautiful like it was amazing I enjoyed that story so much like it was sooo good u should write more. Your really talented. I enjoy the angst I love angst like that so much u should write more frl

╰┈➤ ❝ 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 ❞ | 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

PROMPT: people's behavior had been a lesson ingrained into you since you were young, especially men. they were quick to anger, quick to blame, quick to take out said anger, which is why when you mess up big time you already know what’s going to happen before it will. your just afraid of what it’s going to look like.  

WARNINGS: fem reader, angst, self blaming, mentions and insinuations to past physical and emotional abuse though it is never explicitly mentioned, insecurity, blood, injury, it is not my intention to romanticize this. if anything I hope to bring awareness to to how unhealthy this behavior is, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end, 2.5k wc

A/N:  when i first read this comment i had tears in my eyes. you don’t know how much this means to me and i literally love you sm anon i just wanna give you a big fat sloppy kiss fr. sorry this took so long, trying to get this just right is impossible. This is a darker fic so read at your own risk, enjoy!

Hobie was going to kill you. 

Not in the literal sense, of course, but you're sure you'll be on the receiving end of his anger when he finds out. Though, knowing for sure isn't possible with how little you actually know about him, given that you only met him six months ago. In that time, however, you've never seen him enraged. Hell, you assumed he was incapable of it entirely by the flirty and nonchalant demeanor he expressed around you, which you recognize now as both a pleasure and a curse. 

You know what people are like, how quick they are to anger and take it out on you. You've seen and experienced it more times than you could count, and even suggesting that he would be exempt from these patterns, all men seem to have ingrained into their behavior is unthinkable. The unknown alone sends fear trickling down your spine at the thought of his rage or worse. 

Yet, how could you fault him for any reaction he'll have? You knew how important it was to him and how much he trusted you around it, and still, you found a way to destroy the little of what he held dear.  

You stare at the shards, your breathing coming in quick pants as droplets of blood bloom over the lacerations the pieces of broken ceramic caused. Frantic eyes search the wreckage, your heart thudding at the back of your throat, choked with horror. How could you?

The pottery was a piece Hobie's mother had given him when he was too young to remember why. The simple electric guitar-shaped porcelain with chipped and scratched paint was the only thing he had from her, years of memories turning it dull and dusty. Nonetheless, it remained one of the few material objects for which he held a deep sense of sentimentality for, and you shattered it with an accidental bump of your hand.

The cuts begin to sting, and cold fingers of dread brush against your neck, tears welling in their stead. Stupid. How stupid could you be to knock over such a thing? Jerking a sharp breath, your eyes dart around the room for a solution. 

The only reason you were near it in the first place was to grab the item next to it, a spare pick, which was forgotten in the haste of his exit. Meaning he would be home at any minute to get it before heading to his rehearsal, only five minutes away from the boat. 

Fixing this was the only thing keeping you from shutting down entirely, the objective kicking your senses into overdrive as the increasingly sharp stabs of pain from your hands distract the little mental fortitude you have left. 

While you aren't sure what you're going to do to salvage this, anything is better than letting Hobie see it and, in his anger that will shortly follow, affirm your uselessness and inability to do anything right. A fear that has plagued you for longer than you remember. You're about to pick up the pieces when the lock jingles and the door creaks open. The color drains from your face, adrenaline shooting through your system in a flash of white-hot panic as Hobie's voice cuts through your thoughts in an instant. "Hey, did ya' find my…"

The world stops when Hobie steps into the room. The entire universe, your universe, is shifted right off its axis the moment his breath catches at the disaster you created. 

Bile rises in your throat, your pulse skyrocketing in a moment of sheer hysteria, grasping your chest so firmly it won't subside.

"S-shit-" your voice comes out in a broken gasp. "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to. Fuck, it was an accident, I…I'm so stupid." Choking out the last of your rambling, your throat constricts to the point where words feel heavy on your tongue. You can barely breathe over the terror gripping you like a vice, the art of apology forged into your tongue from years of use.

He kisses his teeth, staring at the mess for a long second, so still, you could swear he stopped breathing. Then his gaze flickers up at you with so many yet so little emotions you can't quite decipher swimming in his wide pupils. You can tell the moment he fully recognizes the extent of your emotional state as well as the blood escaping your curled fist because his expression morphs into one of concern. He steps around the glass like splinters, grabbing your shoulders and twisting you slightly in his thorough examination of your body. Apprehension squeezes the air from your lungs, rendering you speechless and too afraid to bear witness to a physical rage you've never seen. The thought of how it manifests sits like a lump in your throat. 

He takes notice of your hands, sharply gasping as he holds your balled fists, crimson rivets smearing onto his skin. Your eyes burn with the onset of tears, and you slam them closed, feeling your shame and fear as clearly as the agony stabbing your hand.

"Fuck," he murmurs, his voice oddly devoid of emotion. His warm hands disappear from yours, and you let your arms fall to your side, your eyes still tightly shut. The soles of his shoes vibrate across the floor as a door hinge creaks, and you can hear the sound of shuffling just as the door swings shut, and he moves in large strides back into his room. Trepidation crawls over your body, prickling your skin. 

Peaking through squinted eyes, you gauge Hobie's reaction as he, without a word, leads you to his bed, his hand gripping yours delicately as if he assumes you will crack under too much pressure. He presses you to sit on the quilt, making quick work of popping open what you now recognize as a first aid kit. Gaping, you swallow back the lump of guilt and confusion that had formed.

Of course, Hobie would take care of you first despite the damage you've done. Of course, when he has every right to leave you here, he patches you up no matter how much you don't deserve it. Punishing yourself is an easier pill to swallow than his kindness. 

The silence stretches out as he digs through the kit, finding what he needs and holding out his hand. Tenderly, you place your hand in his awaiting palm, almost scared of what happens when you do, and his eyes flicker to yours momentarily, catching the emotions spilling over them before he carefully and slowly unfurls your fist. A sharp intake splits through the anticipation as Hobie's body crunches forward in worry, gently turning your palm from side to side, inspecting you with consternation. Small pieces of ceramic, as big as his fingernail, stick out of your palm in gory spikes, pushing and pressing on the nerve endings in your throbbing limb. 

He studies your avoiding stare in an attempt to decipher the sudden radical change in your behavior wordlessly. 

The tweezers sit heavy in his hand, watching you ruefully as he readies them above your open palm. He gives you a moment to collect yourself, and you can feel the weight of his stare on your injury, flickering to the shards of his childhood on the floor in a quick second. You sink deeper into the guilt, thickening your throat, knowing he has to be angry, or at least disappointed, even if he's not showing it. 

Without a word, the tweezers bite into your skin and pull the splinters, eliciting a loud yelp from you, tears stinging your eyes. His other hand squeezes your thigh, an apology and a gesture of comfort to ground yourself in besides the misery he's regrettably putting you through. You stiffen at the contact, more surprised than anything that he would want to touch you. Shouldn't he be repulsed? 

Sneaking a peek, you watch his lips curl into a soft frown and his eyes droopy, weighed down by his guilt for being the cause of your unshed tears, which you don't understand. Why isn't he visibly disappointed? Is he hiding it well enough that you can't tell? Is he waiting to unleash his anger? 

You wince, sharp jabs echoing up your hands like jolts of electricity, and you bite your lips to contain any pained noises. Hobie plucks the last fragment, letting it clatter into the metal tin before applying the disinfectant in one fell swoop. Somewhere between a groan and whimper leaves your scratchy throat at the alcohol burning its way down each individual cut. You flinch, blinking back, tears swimming in your eyes devastatingly. The antibiotic ointment is plucked from the case, and he makes sure to delicately smear it across your cuts, a pleasant cooling sensation erupting from the inflamed area. He starts to bandage up your hand when he debates it, chewing on his lip with conflicted pupils before he opens his mouth. "How?" 

It shouldn't trigger such a harsh flinch, but it does, and the apology hovers at the tip of your tongue before you can stop it. 

"I'm sorry, Hobie," your voice wobbles, sounding strained. You're desperate to prove yourself before he does anything rash, and you're sure he can see it."I-I didn't mean to. I-it just slipped while I was trying to get your pick and…" 

"Shhh, i''s okay, luv." His words don't register with the incessant ringing in your ears and the pounding in your head hindering your whirring thoughts, hopelessness clawing at your words.

Despite his reassurances, you don't feel okay. Every nerve, every fiber of your being is screaming at you and your clumsiness, the seemingly innate ability to never be good enough. It's consuming, clogging your head with every fault and problem with yourself that leads you here. 

"God, I'm so stupid. I-I can make it up to you, I promise. Just please don't be mad. I'll do whatever you need and–"

"Hey," Hobie firmly says, fingers digging into your shoulders to pull you out of your spiral. "I'm not mad."

"But-" you start again, only for him to cut you off with a stern finger grasping at your chin in an effort for you to understand. "I'm not mad."

"But I broke it." You exclaim, desperation bleeding into your words, your vocal cords climbing to a higher pitch, everything you've done wrong boiling to the surface. "One of your most prized possessions, and I shattered it in seconds. It's all my fucking fault."

Your hands shake, and the sudden graze of Hobie's hand against your warm face stops you from saying more. The eye contact is unbearable with the heavy weight on your consciousness, and your hands flex experimentally despite the pain. He sighs, and his expression is a melancholy sort of heartbroken. "It's not your fault. It was an accident, right?"

"Yeah–"

"So that's it. Ya' didn't mean to. There's nothin' else 'bout it. Why would I be disappointed for a mistake?" He sounds genuinely curious, but it's hard to tell under all the layers of sadness on top of it. 

"Because I can't do anything right! You told me not to touch it, and I couldn't even do that right. You have every right to be angry; hell, I deserve it-" 

"Oi." he snaps coldly. "Don't say 'at. You don't deserve me to treat you like fuckin' shit, so don't even think about it."

With your voice frozen in your throat, a chill creeps through you in the midst of trying to process his words. Then, when you do, droplets of salty tears run down your cheeks, and quicker than you can comprehend, his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest in one swift moment. You can only cry harder, surrounded by everything that is him, a cruel reminder of what you did. 

"I-I just...I thought you would be mad. Everyone always is," you heave, burying your face further into his chest. You're unsure how much he can hear you with your face pressed against his soft crop top, but he seems to understand you well enough because he stiffens. 

His grip tightens in response as if he could protect you from the world. "Never," he states softly, affirmation and defensiveness bleeding in. "Never." 

You wrap your arms around his long torso tighter, each emotion spilling out in unceremonious tears. The reality that he wasn't mad finally settling in.

"I'm sorry," you cry, your shoulders shaking. "I'm so sorry."

His breath tickles your ear, his lanky arms cocooned around you. At the same time, he presses a tender kiss on the crown of your head. "You never need to be sorry, ya' hear me?" he mutters delicately, nuzzling his nose in your hair, his head leaning on your side, his tone more lighthearted. "As long as you get those thoughts outta your head, get what I mean?" 

You do, and while you don't know how much of the lingering insecurity you can get rid of or the fear of disappointment and volatile reactions, it's a step in the right direction, a path Hobie wants to help you on. So you shake your head because, after this affirmation that you're not what you believed yourself to be, you understand. He's freed you from the shackles of yourself, effortlessly turning every preconceived notion into an indisputable lie. Made the fear kept close to your chest wither under his understanding demeanor. Not only that but re-written the very DNA of your relationship into a tight-knit web of shared feelings and experiences that will inevitably only bring you closer. 

"I don't know how to fix it," you admit, sniffling as you untangle yourself from him to find that not-so-scary eye contact anymore, searching his face for an answer like one does a guidebook. 

"Yeah, me neither." He shrugs, brown eyes wandering to the mess you still can't face. "But we'll find a way."

You nod, unsure of what else to add, letting your head fall to his chest as you sit there momentarily in the aftermath, his presence like a warm blanket. You unclench your fist, which you must have balled up in your anguish, and pain burns your hand so severely a mix between a hiss and a pained-sounding gasp leaves your throat. Hobie pulls you from the embrace so fast you get whiplash, inspecting you for injuries until his eyes fall on your hands. 

"Shit." He scrambles, noticing your reopened cuts are dripping blood down your wrist. The bandage he had started to do was soaked in the crimson liquid. "Let's get you patched up, ya?"

Swallowing, you watch as he picks up the gauze, taking your hand in his and continuing to wrap the cloth around your fingers with so much tenderness and care that your heart squeezes and the lump in your throat returns.  

"I can't stand to see you like this," he murmurs offhandedly, his hands never ceasing movement. Your breath hitches, eyes wide with surprise before they fall remorsefully, a mixture of emotions brewing in your chest. 

"I'm sorry," you say out of habit more than anything. He gives you a pointed look, collecting his thoughts before he speaks. "There's no need for any of 'at insecurity. It's no trouble at all, you're no trouble, so just say thank you, and we'll be straight." 

i wanted to try out using caps this time, what do you guys think?

And you do, soft-spoken words carried by the air conditioning kicking on. He looks up from his work, both of your hands wrapped in a layer of gauze, a satisfied smirk pulling at Hobie's lips. "That's my girl."

TAGLIST: @alicefallsintotherabbithole

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Chapter Six

And now the final chapter. I was so deeply worried I wouldn't stick the landing when writing this one! It wasn't just finding the right scenario for Jason and hitting all the right emotional beats but also finding the right little pieces of the earlier chapters to thread back into this last chapter to make it all feel cohesive and purposeful. This would probably be easier if I outlined things.

Jason was pretty sure he was going to die, and he was surprised to find he regretted it.

Sometimes having a fully formed first line pop into your head is annoying because the line feels wrong and you have to figure out how to manhandle it into truth. For instance, I was pretty sure Jason would actually be terrified of dying again because it went so poorly the last time, but I didn't even consciously know I thought that until this line popped into my head SOOO not only did I have to work through my surprise at my own subconscious character building but then ALSO I had to figure out how to reconcile two conflicting truths.

Writing is weird.

When he had first come back, Jason had swung wildly between fearing death and running straight into its arms again and again and again. Some days he had fought back that empty dark, terrified to be swallowed whole, terrified to be spat out once more. Other days he had been too reckless and enraged to care. He had challenged death, daring it to take him again.

That's all this paragraph was, the reconciliation.

Jason had pictured himself feeling scared, hollowed straight down to his shoes with a sickening anticipation, like a skydiver kneeling on the wing of a plane.

I've done that and I will say that was probably the most viscerally scared I've ever been. Going up in a tiny little prop plane, going to the open door, and kneeling out of the door on the wing so the instructor person could hook onto me. Not even doing it so much as watching the person I was jumping with do it first and knowing I had to do it next. You're welcome, Jason, I bequeath to thee my skin-crawling adrenaline.

The drugs were doing weird things to his perception, stretching and slowing time, then making it snap back into place like silly putty pulled too fast.

Have you ever pulled Silly Putty like taffy, long and slow, then given it a good yank so it snaps? Super satisfying. And now I'm wondering where I left my Silly Putty. It's been a while.

Jason sucked in a raspy breath and tried to focus. He’d sort of tuned out when the demands started. Hear one set of demands, hear them all, really.

This was actually me not caring at all about what the baddies might be saying and not wanting to figure it out to write it. They'd do the whole ears-ringing-underwater-sound effect in this part in a movie anyways.

Batman didn’t negotiate. Not even for Jason. Maybe especially not for Jason.

Jason Todd is such a little liar. I am always baffled by folks who read his POV and take him 100% as a reliable and trustworthy narrator.

There was a reason he needed to look. He needed to look up. And focus. It was like a voice yelling at him from far away, lost beneath the roar of an oncoming train. He couldn’t save himself, but there was a reason… There was someone on the other side of the lights who needed to see he was okay.

This is the good kush, the arc of Jason from hatred and loathing not just changing to affection and care but thinking of their wellbeing even as he is actively about to die and wanting his family to be okay.

Jason’s lips twitched, then he managed a smile with teeth slick and stained with blood. There. That was defiant enough. It would look good in the highlight reel. And hopefully was enough to convince everyone on the other side that he was… not okay. But himself, at least. He wasn’t scared. When he died, he wouldn’t be scared. Not like last time.

I'll tell you right now, that's for Bruce too. I had to frantically and aggressively keep him way way way out of this entire fic because I love him too much and all the action and emotion would warp around him like gravitational lensing if he were present. (Which made for funny-awful comments from people convinced I thought Bruce was a bad dad. No!!!!!)

If they were going to kill him, Jason would rather they just hurry up and do it already. Torture really wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t just unnecessary, it was tacky. It was— Jason couldn’t completely stop the grunt that dropped from his lips with the first punch to his ribs. Or the wheeze when, after several more hard blows, a rib snapped. But he didn’t make a sound when the idiot snubbed out his cigarette on Jason’s collarbone. Jason had learned to take that one as a little kid. Like, up your game, dude.

I actually avoid torture-based fics. I do not like them. At all. Given the framing of this last chapter, I knew it would be necessary to dabble, but I wanted to keep the details all within Jason's viewpoint and therefore not melodramatic or gross.

Jason jerked as dry, cracking lips appeared next to his ear, so close that the crusty flakes brushed against his skin as the mouth spoke.

I wanted to give this person identifying markers without making it about an accent or speech patterns or something hackneyed and gross like that. Icking people out was a side benefit.

Bruce had never given Jason lessons on withstanding torture. It was one of the few areas where he had been startlingly, blatantly unwilling to give instruction, even though preparing Jason might have meant the difference between safety and discovery for the secrets of Batman. “Tell them,” he had ordered Jason, his mouth set into a grim line. “Don’t try to be brave. Hold on and trust I’ll come for you, but if you’re given the choice between being tortured or telling our secrets, I want you to tell them.”

I will die on this hill. Every single BatKid is trained to keep a secret and literally no secret, not even his identity, is more important to Bruce than his kids.

Jason could withstand anything now. Would withstand anything, both on principle and because no way was he giving these schmucks the keys to Alfred’s basement.

Love that Jason can literally knuckle down and bear anything if he tells himself it's for Alfred. (Because that's a love everyone understands and respects and somehow feels less vulnerable than admitting it's for everyone, not just Alfred.)

He would tell nothing, and he wouldn’t trust that Batman would come. That kind of hope could break a person faster than any tire iron.

This is the thing I think people miss. It's not that Jason is sure Bruce won't come. They filmed him as a hostage and sent it to Batman. Of course he'll come. It's that staying present, staying focused, is too dangerous. Because if Batman comes too late, it will break Jason.

The world had lost all definition, the torture and the drugs reducing it to wildly swinging lights and deep shadows. Men spun around him, crying out orders to each other, weapons waving blindly. . . . The far door burst open in an explosion of wooden splinters. He couldn’t see what was happening beyond. The camera lights had been turned on at some point, then knocked over. The beam slashed diagonally across Jason’s torso and face, blinding him.

I hate describing fights and actiony scenes. If I can give myself a cinematic way out of it, I will. Exhibit A.

“Where is he?” “Hood!” “What have you done to him?” “Where’s our brother?” “Over there!” “Oh god, Hood.” “Batman!”

I don't know how other people do it, but when I write overlapping dialogue like this, I am deliberate about making sure I know who's saying what, even if no one else does.

Jason just hoped the kids looked away in time.

It's important to me that Jason thinks of his siblings (minus Dick) as his baby siblings. "But Cass is—" Nope. She came later. Baby sibling. "Tim is only—" Doesn't matter. Baby sibling.

Ah, Dickie. I’m sorry. Dick’s gaze held Jason’s for a heartbeat longer, then returned to his captor. It felt like a goodbye. “Take him,” Batman growled. Jason closed his eyes.

I know I wrote this, but these three lines make me feel many things. (As I wrote in a comment, re: that first thought line: "I was legit surprised by this. Jason's had ample time to come to grips with how guilty Dick feels about his first death, so the moment he realized Mr. Kumbaya Family Man was going to have a front row seat for round two? Such pure sorrow, I wasn't prepared aaaat all.")

Safe, she signed, hands fluttering like moths. Safe.

Cass chapter callback!

Tim. Just Tim. Tim wouldn’t hurt him. Jason was pretty sure. Not with Dick here, right? No. He was sure, even through the haze of sedatives. Jason huffed out a rasping breath and tried to relax.

I love noting that this is Jason's family, he both loves and trusts them, and he's still allowed to have the briefest moment of doubt before he chooses to push through it. You can feel whatever you like but you still have a responsibility for what you do in response to them!!

“We’re gonna get you back to the Cave, but I need to make sure you’re stabilized first,” Tim was explaining. His fingers were running deftly over Jason, finding every bruise, every broken bone, every wound.

Tim chapter callback!

Jason paused to hold his breath as Tim slid a hand under his skull to feel for bumps.

Was this a The Thief nod slipping in unbidden? Who's to say.

Cass was back, slipping past Damian with a paper cup in her hand.

Another Cass chapter callback!

“Yes.” The word was almost spat and drenched in venom. But not at Jason. “They are fortunate I did not resort to harsher methods.”

Not exactly a clean cut Damian chapter callback but I'm still claiming it. (Also, he's the very last in the room. That wasn't deliberate but it's nice symmetry.)

“Black Bat.” Dick’s voice was low, hushed. It didn’t rumble in his chest like Bruce’s, but more hummed at the base of his throat. “Slipped in from behind. Took him out at the C4.”

There's a whole wide world of leeway before "not dead."

“No. Some days he might wish he was, but he’ll live a long, full life at Blackgate.” 

That, specifically, is in reference to his entire life, not just his paralysis. No family connected to Barbara Gordon would assume something so gross.

Right. He’d known about that trip. That explained why the thugs had gotten a cowled Nightwing instead of Boss Bat. Why big brother had come storming the gates.

I had to physically shove Bruce to another continent to keep him from butting in. 2. Big brotherrrrrrr

Jason tightened his fingers around Dick’s before the other man pulled away. Outside the Batmobile, twin engines revved as Steph and Cass kicked their bikes into gear. Damian settled back against the seat, hand still enmeshed in Jason’s curls, and Tim’s hand replaced Dick’s, his fingers pressed to Jason’s pulse point. They were all warm, these hands, warm and soft like being cradled in sunlight.

*Fast, Furious voice* Family

But for now, he was safe. He could sleep. So he did, surrounded by family.

He started the fic so, so tired, and now he can finally rest.

I am so incredibly proud of this fic. It wasn't the heavy lift that my two longfics were, but it was written to my tastes and remains one of my most popular works. Yay, good job, little buddy.

If the Sky Comes Falling Down (For You)

First posted: January 25, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd and his various siblings

Favorite bookmark: "A variety of permutations and flavors of Robin h/c featuring Jason! The Baskin Robins of BatFam h/c, if you will."

Second favorite bookmark: "and so, step by step, the prodigal stray coaxes himself home."

Tier: #3 in hits & kudos & subscriptions, #4 in comment threads, #2 in bookmarks

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Individual chapter notations below the cuts.

Chapter One

First, to note, the title came last and is from "Hey Brother" by Avicii because it was already on my BatFam playlist and gave me strong sibling feels, so it worked!

Okay if I remember correctly, this fic came about because 1) I had jotted down story ideas, all surrounding Jason, that were all just a bit too similar for me to feel comfortable doing them as one-offs, and 2) it was late 2018 when I start writing so I was deep in 5+1 IronDad fics.

This fic was so deeply indulgent from start to finish, which I think might be why people liked it so much? Like, if you're into the tropes into this fic, you're really into them. It scratches the itch just right, because it's my itch and I wrote it for me.

The plan was to do like I did for my other multi-chapter fics (except Nature and Nurture, RIP me) and write it all out before posting anything, so I could be sure that I would actually finish. I don't have that kind of self-restraint anymore. But it was a fun challenge to figure out what should happen to whom and in what order.

Jason didn’t sleep much anymore. He’d always been a rough sleeper, his years spent in low-security public housing and then on the street grinding away at his ability to rest with ease. He slept lightly, his consciousness skimming just below the surface, ready to spring awake at the softest noise.

As I've said before, sometimes I have an idea for a fic but then, when trying to start it, a sentence pops up immediately as my opener. That's always a wild ride because sometimes it seems to have nothing at all to do with where I want to go, so then I have to backtrack and figure out but why tho????

Moving to the Manor had helped some, after he’d assured himself that no one was going to scratch at his door or steal his shoes. The cold mornings had been the best, spent curled under a mound of the softest blankets imaginable atop a mattress so perfectly contoured to his bones that it’d felt like floating on the surface of a pool. He’d slept, truly slept, at the Manor.

I like the idea of, even at Jason's most toxic and vitriolic, the Manor itself still representing safety and comfort. Maybe sometimes he would twist it into stifling or grossly indulgent, but I think deep in his stomach he would know that distortion was a lie. The Manor was safer than anywhere else, even with his mom.

Those days of rest were long gone. The Pit had done a number on his brain—intensifying and altering his emotions, erasing some old habits and dialing up others, leaving dark chasms where memories should be.

I've seen other fics play with the idea of the trauma of Jason's injuries, death, resurrection, and the Pit all combining to some degree or another to swiss-cheese his brain (a phrase I lovingly borrow from Quantum Leap.) And that of course leaves a bunch of really fun room to play with—how much does Jason know he's missing vs. how much is gone or totally distorted without him even being aware? (Again, another thing I tease out in various fics like N&N.)

It was like someone had jammed a stick in his skull and given his brain a good stir. Or maybe that was just the crowbar. Ha.

I made myself snicker with that one. It's so voiceily Jason but also that ha is so guttural and specific in my head, you all will never know.

He was making progress with his budding criminal empire—splashy progress, as displayed on the crusting cuffs of his sleeves and the splattered toes of his boots, but also more subtle progress, too. The subtle form was harder, so much harder, but he knew its changes would be more permanent, in the long run. Splashy got people talking. Subtle got them bowing.

Jason! Todd! Is! No! Thug! He is smart and cunning and uses violence to make an impact and that's that on that.

And though he’d heard her speak before in the careful neutral of the middle-class, the sounds being beat out of her now were Crime Alley crooked.

I like the idea of Steph and Jason growing up in the same neighborhood. It's not a hill I'd die on, but it makes for some interesting fic.

The girl put up a good fight. She was rough, no finesse, no real training. All knuckles and elbows and feet and knees. He spotted some of the Bat basics pop up in the way she ducked and spun, but she wasn’t lithe like Nightwing or crafty like the Replacement. She was a brawler. And she was losing.

She is who he might have been, without Bruce and Alfred and Dick. A decent fighter, stubborn, willing to brawl it out, but ultimately destined to lose.

It sucked in an abstract way, the way it sucked that someone was going hungry halfway around the world, the way it sucked when a stranger missed his bus. It sucked, but it wasn’t Jason’s problem, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care. B needed to learn to pick up his toys.

Starting with Steph made the most sense to me. She wasn't (and isn't) a member I know super well, with so much of her canon backstory being things I have no interest in, and she's part of the Family but in that awkward "we're maybe siblings but also I have a mom and also I dated one of you too??" ways, so she's got a little bit of distance, for me as a writer and also Jason. She doesn't have the emotional heat of the others. He doesn't hate her, just what she represents. He also doesn't care what happens to her, except—

The knife glinted in the amber streetlight and cast a shadow across the yellow emblem on her chest.

She's not Batman. She's not a Robin. She's Batgirl. And that's a different thing entirely.

Jason knew what they saw when they looked at him. He was big now, broad-shouldered and massive in a way he had only ever dreamed of being as a scrawny, malnourished street kid. His helmet was blood-red and gleaming, its angles sculpted to subtly suggest a skull. And his clothes were still stained with actual blood. He was an Alley myth, a nightmare with more bite than the Bat, because he wasn’t afraid to do real damage. He was death.

Jason Peter Todd is scary smart, and he knows how to make the exact impact he wants.

“I don’t know you, but I know your colors. You’re Ibanescu’s boys.”

I had to google Gotham crime families. I know literally nothing other than the name.

It was one thing to let her get the snot beat out of her. And even if someone else had taken a shot at her, he wouldn’t have minded. But he couldn’t. Not in that suit.

:3

“It’s not about you,” Jason repeated, his voice gravelly and rough. He pointed toward the yellow symbol on her chest, the symbol that, in the world he’d left, the world he remembered, belonged to someone else. “I owe her a debt. And now it’s paid.” Jason was a murderer. A thief. A criminal. A drug lord. He had no illusions as to his own goodness anymore, no hope for redemption or grace. But he had his values, the few precious things that he would not allow. One of those, it seemed, was watch a man restrain and stab a Batgirl while he did nothing.

Someday I'll write more about that. The partner and friend and maybe mentor who was still reeling from trauma and hadn't yet found her way when Jason was snuffed out of existence.

Jason was tired, but the night was just beginning.

So that's where it starts. Jason tired, literally caked with dried blood, stepping in not because of love or hate or curiosity or concern but because he felt he owed a debt to someone else and that debt instead landed on the person in front of him.

[daenerys-targaryen]

I’m actually not trying to be Woke (god forbid) here me but I don’t get people who just.. have issues with how others want to live their life. And I don’t mean like, you know, having an issue with race and police brutality because those are actual legit issues that need to be address and called out. I’m talking strictly lgbtq+ issues. I mean. Elliot Page came out as a trans man, and I.... actually don’t really care? I mean, I care in a sense where I’m happy for them, I’m happy that they’re living the life they want to live... but it doesn’t affect my life at all so while I’m very happy and excited for him and every trans person who is also excited.. I also just kind of don’t care in a way where I’d spend hours writing an article about how this is wrong or how gender is the same as sex or how you can change your gender blah blah all the regular transphobic content you usually see after a high profile person comes out as trans or even dares to wear clothes that we as a society classify the opposite gender. I just don’t understand how people can be so outraged and livid that they spend all their time and energy trying to belittle lgbtq+ people like really how much will a man who wears a dress affect your life? How will a person was born a female identifying as a male affect you life? LIKE I truly just don’t get why people are so in other peoples business I truly do NOT get it at all. Genuinely WHAT is the big deal about being gay or bi or trans. If someone wants to be called he or someone wants to date a member of the same sex then WHAT is the big deal why is that such an issue for some people I don’t understand. I don’t think I’m explaining myself very well but anyways fuck transphobes and homophobes.