#no fucking wonder my therapist didn't want me looking into this shit

[icannotgetoverbirds]

Here's the link. @skillwiththequill thank you for that /gen. Can confirm that, according to this article, the father's first reaction was, in fact, to question why his son was at a gay bar in the first place.

And it's pretty clear that he was more concerned as to whether his son was gay than to why his son's DEFENSE ATTORNEYS were calling him about the guy being involved in a SHOOTING.

apparently the q club shooter from the shooting in colorado recently is mormon.

and they say that they condemn what he did, but how can the church not expect this to happen after they give speeches like this:

The mormon church likes to hide behind pretty words and ‘service work’ but I would be shocked, if the shooter’s involvement with the church had nothing to do with him deciding that queer people where better off dead, and that he was the one to do it.

I’m tired of people standing by and watching the church exist and saying ‘oh wow they’re weird’ ‘oh yeah mormonism is a cult’ ‘haha have you seen those mormons?’ without considering the actual impact of the church, and the horrendous things that they condone and cause.

the church has said that this is a tragedy that ‘deeply saddens them’ or some shit. but I’m tired of pretending that the speech above doesn’t explicitly state that this was what they wanted.

I don’t know the insides of Anderson Lee Aldrich’s brain but I can 100% say that his hate, and his ideas came from somewhere. and that because of this, the church has even more queer blood on their hands.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Dead on main. Someone who knows you better than you know yourself.

Perhaps Fentons are not able to recognize their child, despite the fact that they hunt him day after day. But for childhood friends, who saw each other in absolutely ridiculous situations that parents are never allowed to know about, just one sneeze and a bored sigh is enough to realize that this weirdo fighting next to him is the same guy with whom you tasted soap and then stood looking at each other from different corners and giggling.

And so, the dialogue after the battle with the creatures of Infinite Realms, to which Constantine had to invite a potential ally not yet approved by the League:

Phantom: Well, mom always said you were bad news...But a crime lord, seriously? What happened to your plans to become a literature teacher? Red Hood: Hey! For Gotham, this is a very high-paying in-demand job. And I don't want to hear anything from Casper. At least I have my own business. What kind of part-time job do you have? Are you selling sheets to your buddies from this green goo? Phantom: This is ectoplasm. And they're not my friends, and anyway… Constantine: King Phantom, do you know Red Hood? Phantom: Do I know him? Ha! This street rat was Splinter of my beginnings until my family moved out of Gotham.

Red Hood: Wait, wait a minute. Phah...Holy shit. I thought I was the best example of what it means to be a disappointment to a family, but you beat me here. Oh, man, only you...The ghost king who is the son of the ghost hunters? Seriously? Hahah! I thought your rebellious phase ended the moment you told your father that you wanted to be an astronaut and not inherit the family business.

Danny*groans and covers his face with his hands*: My life is over.

Red Hood: Literally~ No, of course I always knew that your parents' disregard for safety in the laboratory would someday kill someone, but I didn't really expect this? Like, wow… Phantom: What makes you think it was an incident in the lab? I mean, there are so many possibilities around. It's ridiculous and…hah Red Hood: Dude, look me straight in the face and tell me I'm wrong if you dare. Phantom:…Fuck you, stupid bookworm. Red Hood: Stubborn nerd. Phantom: Red bucket! Red Hood: Pale toadstool! Nightwing: Um, can you guys please stop fighting? Red Hood: What are you talking about? This is how we always communicate. Phantom: Yeah! Well, in our defense, my sister always thought we both could use a therapist. Oh, man, he made me lose my train of thought. Where were we, J? Red Hood: Since when are you able to think? And I complimented your new hair and skin color. Phantom: Right, right… But, hey, not all of my parents' hypotheses really have a right to exist, and you know it! Hm, did I mention that you're built like a fridge and how does this leather jacket suit you? Red Hood: I believe not. And who's talking about your parents' work? You were an airhead when you were alive too to be honest. And as I see it, not much has changed. Why the hell are you still starting a fight with puns? Stop telling your opponent your position. This is terribly stupid! Phantom: Oh, please, these ghosts are definitely not a threat to me. What's wrong with having a little fun? The fact that you don't have weapons to handle something stronger than a blob ghost is your problem not mine, loser. But let's get back to our greetings. Red Hood: Sure. Then listen here…

~~~~~

Nightwing: Jay, why didn't you say right away that you knew Phantom? We've wasted so much time wondering if it's worth summoning him, and you just stood there and said nothing. Red Hood: Pfff…Because I didn't know that until today. He used to be human. And we haven't seen each other for a long time. So how was I to know that he would take such a ridiculous pseudonym? Nightwing: Then why the hell didn't you feel worried about teasing this creature? Red Hood: Why should I? It's just Danny.

~~~~

Tucker: Oh man, 84 murders, attempts to kill Joker and to much fights with Batman and Black Mask and… Danny: Yeah, yeah. It's all very interesting, but it's not what I asked you to find. Get to the point, Tucker. What I will wear to our dinner tonight depends on this. Tucker: Seriously? As far as I'm concerned, whether he's single or not is less important than all this shit. Aren't you afraid to show up at his house? Danny: I'm invited. And for that matter, I'm Amity Park's former public enemy number one. Which one of us should be worried, hah? So he's not dating anyone, right? Don't try to distract me. Tucker: Dude! Danny: Ugh, in my experience, when he acts like he's lost his mind, he usually has good reasons for it. And if not, given some of the events of my alternative future, I have no right to judge him, so…

[rosedpetal]

Until Death Do Us Part

Summary: Harvey and you have been on a rocky road lately, but hopefully, you can still find each other.

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 932

Warnings: stablished relationship (reader and Harvey are married), mentions of body image struggles, hints at +18 themes.

Masterlist

"No. Absolutely not." Your husband frowned when you came out from the closet wearing your 'costume'.

A huff of annoyance leaves your lips.

"What the fuck is wrong now? Did I gain weight and suddenly you can't get up or something?" Venom drips from your sarcastic remark and Harvey rubs his temples.

"Why are you like this? Jesus Christ, Y/N, it's not about some shit like that, stop trying to make me a bad guy at every given chance!" He snaps. "It's just your stupid wings, okay? You look like you came straight from a Barbie movie, when you said you'd like to roleplay being a fairy, I thought you'd use one of those Lord of the Rings-"

"Those are elves. Not fairies. They don't have wings!" You seethe, taking your plastic wings off and accidentally pressing the light button on them, turning the pink leds on, and Harvey's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I'm sorry if my knowledge in a fictional world lore is lacking, it's because I actually have a real job."

That was cruel and uncalled for and he knew it. Harvey had a bad habit of saying the most callous things without even thinking. It didn't help that he hated the idea of roleplaying from the very beginning.

"How could I forget, it's the only thing you care about!" You raise your voice, and it breaks in the end. "Tonight was supposed to be fun!"

Harvey immediately regrets the jab he made at your wings. Well, it's not that he couldn't get himself to be motivated by you while you were wearing them... It's just that it was fucking weird because he was a grown man and he was pretty sure his kid niece wore the same pink fairy wings every Halloween.

And he could explain that to you, but you just had to make a self deprecating comment about your body and imply that he wasn't man enough to look past his partner putting on some weight.

Which was another ridiculous thing, because, seriously? He couldn't care less if you were a size 2 or 20. It didn't matter. He married you because he loved you, inside and out, and you weren't an airhead that couldn't carry on a conversation with him. He respected you. He was interested in what you had to say (most of the time, at least).

But for months now, you two have been fighting nonstop, and more than often saying some hurtful shit to each other and no longer searching for the comfort of each other's arms in the middle of the night.

He wondered if your sudden self consciousness regarding your body was because you've been stress-eating ever since the chasm between you two was created.

Harvey was selfish, harsh, arrogant and snappy, but he wasn't insensitive to how women sometimes had insecurities that ate them alive.

He sighed, following you in the closet, his chest tightening at the sigh of your angry tears while you put on sweatpants and a top (the sleepwear you wore on nights you made sure no intimacy was gonna happen).

He even agreed on going to therapy with you, which he thought was an admission of defeat, that you two weren't mature enough to solve your problems on your own.

"Honey." He called, his voice soft with regret.

He hates the 'homework' your therapist gives you every week. A dinner date, a little getaway, a road trip, sitting down and talking for an hour. He feels like his own relationship is being scripted and that you can't find common ground anymore.

"What?" You wipe your tears, unable to look at him in the eyes.

"We don't roleplay." He said in a teasing tone. "Why would I want you to pretend to be someone else when you already exist?"

He gently holds your face in both hands, wiping the remaining tears with his thumbs.

"I'm an idiot. I promise my reaction has nothing to do with whatever's been making you feel vulnerable right now. Seriously. The wings just reminded me of halloween, and halloween reminded me of children going trick-or-treating and you don't want your husband to be thinking of children in the bedroom, do you?"

You grimaced. "God, no."

"Glad we're on the same page, babe." He gently pressed his forehead against yours. "Dance with me."

"There's no music." You sniffled.

"We have a nice record player in the living room. Come on, baby."

Gently, he guided you out from the room, his fingers intertwined in yours as he put on some sappy jazz music. He sways barefoot with you on his arms, your head on his chest, and it takes you back to simpler times.

"I'm sorry. For everything." He's the first to speak, and you appreciate the sentiment, because you know how hard it is for him to apologize, specially when he's the first one to bend the knee to make peace.

"We'll get through this." You mumble, and he kisses the top of your head, and suddenly the golden ring on your finger feels lighter.

"I love you more than anything in the world, darling. Please, don't doubt that. I need you to remember that every single day, specially when I'm at my worst."

"I love you too, Harvey."

He knows there's a long way to go, but the little progress you made tonight makes his heart feel more at ease, as long as you're both on the same side, because he knew with every fiber of his being that he meant it when he said 'until death do us part'.

[tumb1rprincess]

Thoughts on episodes 7 and 8 of Hazbin Hotel

The fucking "ace in the hole" joke with Alastor, that was funny.

I want Rosie as my therapist. I can't believe a cannibal is one of the sweetest characters on the show.

So angel weapons are the only thing that can kill angels, okay. I knew that was a thing, but I wondering if maybe Carmilla did it some other way. Also, her instantly recognizing Vaggie as an angel made me laugh. Was that supposed to be a nod towards the fans for figuring that out ages ago?

More fucking bops, hell yeah. I think my favorite out of this bunch had to be Charlie and Vaggie's reprise of More Than Anything. So fucking cute!

I legit that Angel Dust was going to be like "So, if this is our last night, how about we fuck?" to Husker, but I guess their relationship is going to be more of a slow burn. That's fine with me.

Alastor and Nifty are so cute, they're fucking weirdo besties.

Sir Pentious my beloved, you were a good boy. I didn't expect him to be the one to go, but I also didn't expect him to end up in Heaven. Does this mean that Heaven will finally see that redemption is possible?

We finally saw Adam's face! It's kind of generic, but maybe that's the point? Also, I just now realized his robes are supposed to look like a sports varsity jacket.

This fight was bloody, man. Angels getting ripped apart, Lute ripping off part of her own body to get out from under that rubble, Adam getting the shit beat out of him.

Lucifer and Charlie finally showing their true demon forms and showing their real power was so satisfying. Glad they showed Adam what for, although Nifty killing him was hilarious.

Dude, Alastor got shook during this fight. He got hurt, he had to run, and whatever deal he's in is suffocating him. I wonder if his favor to ask of Charlie is her figuring out how to free him.

So Lilith is in Heaven. This raises so many questions. Why is she there? What is she planning? Does she have Alastor on a leash or does somebody else?

This also makes me question where the series will go from here. Heaven probably won't be doing exterminations anymore since they don't want to lose anymore angels. Will the main conflict next season be getting Heaven to recognize that redeeming sinners is possible? Will Heaven even let Charlie and the others know that Sir Pentious got there? Will Lilith be the big bad? What's Lute's next move now that she's in charge of the exterminators?

I guess me theorizing so much about season 2 shows how much I loved season 1. I'm so glad I got into this series, and this show has gone from a little Youtube pilot to a full fledged show with one season done another on the way. The only thing I hope is that season 2 will have more than eight episodes, I want more time with these characters and to see their development more. I want to see what happens next. God, what a show.

[cult-of-the-eye]

Mag 81 A Guest for Mr Spider

FUCK FORMER HEAD ARCHIVIST

Wait I need to check the timelines - this was 2 days after leitner's death

New spooky music???

My man is so fucking dramatic I love him so much "grand of sand behind my eye" love the way he speaks

Yeah FUCK JURGEN LEITNER

Omg the greying hair is canon??

Child in the 90s makes him at most 27 GOD DAMN. I was imagining like mid 30s...can you imagine a fucking 27 yr old using words like "ilk" when talking to you

Oh shit he's an orphan poor guy

Yeah ok a lot of his personality seems to make sense if you realise he was raised by his grandma

You know those memes that are like people raised by their grandparents are exceptionally polite but in a brisk way, talk fancy and are super posh? Yeah that's him.

Getting such neurodivergent vibes

Yeah he sounds like a main character from the start Jesus Christ he's such a kid who got traumatised and then grows up to be a horror protagonist vibes

My First Leitner lol like kids had to be introduced to them at a young age like those my first toys

He's so funny I can just imagine him as an 8 yr old getting super like affronted at this like how dare my grandma think I am of subpar intelligence he's such a little bitch from the start

"The eponymous Mr spider" even talking about his childhood trauma he's busting out the vocabulary

Fuck that story actually kinda rattled me I had my hand over my mouth in shock for most of it

I think it was the bit where the horsefly brought his son and they were both crying that got me, I could definitely imagine it scaring an 8 yr old

The way it drags out as well, with the pages of the same scene it really heightens the suspense

Is his childhood bully someone we should keep track of?? Love how he says Michael probably cause he sees him as a bully lol

It's interesting how despite him bullying him (quite badly seeing as though he beat him up) he's still like yeah but he saved my life and that means he deserves to be remembered

My bro didn't save your life on purpose, he was just trying to make it worse and happened to come to a terrible fate cause of that

I guess underneath it all he was still a kid who watched someone die, knowing they'd get eaten by a fucking spider, he still held him in some regard

The way he specified the guy was his bully even after he was being eaten though lol

He was desperate to get the book back? That's a leitner thing I guess, the book makes you want to keep it so it can finish whatever it wanted to do to you

On my relisten (which I will do once I've finished the series I'm sure of it), I'll have to look out for any reaction of leitners name

I wonder why Jon didn't react more to Carlos vittery's statement, like it must've terrified him? I saw a post a while back explaining Jon's thoughts and IT WAS GENIUS it was like of course he doesn't react, he must be terrified that someone knew about his experience and somehow did this to mess with him or it was a joke and he can't let anyone know that the Head Archivist is not Good at This ugh it's so good I'll tag it if I can find it

AHHHHH HE REGRETS DISMISSING THE OTHER STATEMENTS AHHHHHH

HE FINALLY ADMITS THAT HE NEEDS HELP WE LOVE THIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT YES YOU FUCKING DO BITCH.

yeah at least he's right about Elias killing leitner

GEORGIE THE EX GIRLFIEND

ITS SO WEIRD TO SEE HIM ACTUALLY NICE TO SOMEONE WOW HIS VOICE CHANGES SLIGHTLY AS WELL HES LESS ACADEMIC

THE ADMIRAL

Awwww he's so cute with georgie

GHOST PODCAST GHOST PODCAST

THE WHAT THE GHOST T SHIRT IS CANON???? AHH THATS SO CUTE

Can he not go back to his own flat?? Did he bring all his clothes to the archive and then subsequently leave them there? Does he even have a flat??

God Georgie is so nice I would kill for her

It's so funny that an apparent supernatural cynic dated a ghost podcaster

WOW SEASON 3 OFF TO AN AMAZING START I CANT WAIT TO KEEP LISTENING IM GONNA TELL MY THERAPIST ABOUT THIS TOMORROW!!!

[solarianradiance]

John: hey karkat! John: watcha up to?

Karkat: FIRST OF ALL. Karkat: IF YOU ARE GOING TO INVADE ANOTHER. ENTITIES ABODE THAT IS HIS HIVE. Karkat: I WOULD ADVISE YOU TO AT LEAST HAVE THE COURTESY OF KNOCKING ON HIS RESPITE BLOCKS DOOR. Karkat: LEST HE RIGHTFULLY BLOW YOUR INCONSIDERATE AND EMPTY FUCKING SKULL CLEAN OFF YOUR CLEARLY INEFFECTIVE SHOULDER OUT OF BEING STARTLED BY YOUR SUDDEN APPEARANCE.

Karkat: DO YOU PEOPLE JUST NOT UNDERSTAND THE CONCEPT OF PRIVATE PERSONAL SPACE AND WHY IT'S RUDE TO JUST COME AND GO ONTO OTHER PEOPLES PROPERTY WITHOUT PERMISSION LIKE THAT? Karkat: ITS GOD DAMN BARBARIC YOU UNMANNERED JACKASS!!!

Karkat: BUT TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION, BECAUSE I KNOW YOU WILL ASK IT AGAIN. Karkat: IM DRAWING MY HUMANSONAS.

John: your human...sonas? John: you're being a furry, but with humans?

Karkat: I AM GOING TO PRETEND I DIDNT JUST HEAR THAT AND SAVE US BOTH THE RAGE INDUCED VIOLENCE YOU ARENT WORTH THE EFFORT OF. Karkat: INSTEAD I SHALL GIVE YOU THE BREAKDOWN OF WHY I AM DOING THIS. Karkat: IT IS NOT A FURRY THING. Karkat: IT IS A THERAPY THING.

Karkat: SEE I PROMISED KANAYA ON HER WRIGGLING DAY I WOULD TRY AND MANAGE MY ANGER BETTER. Karkat: WHICH MEANT SEEING A THERAPIST. Karkat: SO BASICALLY WASTE MY TIME HASHING IT OUT WITH A DUMB BLONDE LAVENDER BIMBO THAT SHES MARRIED TO FOR A COUPLE HOURS OF HOURS EVERY WEEK. Karkat: WE WERE NOT GETTING ANYWHERE FOR THE FIRST FEW NIGHTS. Karkat: WHICH I KNEW WOULD HAPPEN BECAUSE ITS FUCKING STUPID AND SHE KNEW IT. Karkat: THEN SHE SUGGESTED THAT I USE AN AVATAR OF MY OWN MAKING TO ROLEPLAY IT OUT AS ANOTHER PERSON. Karkat: WHICH, YKNOW, IM GOOD AT. SO I VERY CALMLY SAID Karkat:"Fuck it, why not?" Karkat: SO I STARTED DRAWING THEM AS SOON AS I GOT UNSTUCK FROM THEIR HOME, JUST SO I COULD WALK THROUGH THE MIND OF A HUMAN THAT SWAPPED HIVES WITH ME.

John: that sound like something rose would suggest. John: glad you're at least trying to hold to your promise, don't see a whole lotta that these days.

John: but now i gotta ask. John: why are you drawing two of em?

Karkat: WHAT PART OF "You are being rude." DO YOU NOT COMPREHEND? Karkat: DONT JUST LOOK AT THINGS THAT ARE NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!

John: you said humansona's John: as in plural. John: you're not exactly hiding anything anyways. John: it's right there for all the world to see. John: no need to be krabby about it.

Karkat: I AM NOT BEING KRABBY! Karkat: I AM BEING PATIENT TOWARDS YOUR ASININE BEHAVIOR! Karkat: BECAUSE Karkat: I AM LITERALLY INSIDE MY OWN PRIVATE FUCKING BEDROOM YOU GASLIGHTING PIECE OF SHIT! Karkat: THAT WAS THE WHOLE POINT OF ME BEING IN HERE TO BEGIN WITH! Karkat: TO KEEP MY AFFAIRS PRIVATE! Karkat: WHICH YOU AND EVERY OTHER GOD DAMN SNOOT SERPENT BEHEMOTH OF THE SAVANNAH SEEM HELLBENT ON MAKING PUBLIC! Karkat: YOU UTTERLY INVASIVE AND ABOUT TO BE ASSBUSTED GHOST!

John: ...

John: well. John: exscuuuuse me for taking an interest in my obviously isolated friend.

Karkat: ...

Karkat: YOUVE BEEN HANGING AROUND TEREZI VRISKA AND MEENAH TOO MUCH LATELY. Karkat: TO HELL WITH IT. Karkat: HERE. Karkat: I WAS ABOUT FINISHED DRAW THEM ANYWAYS. Karkat: GAZE UPON MY THE WORKS OF MY IMAGINATION AS TO WHAT I WOULD BE LIKE IF I WAS HUMAN!

John: holy crap karkat! John: these are really good! John: i didn't know you were such a capable artist! John: i'm actually impressed.

Karkat: WELL. Karkat: THATS THE FUNNY THING. Karkat: YOU THINK YOU KNOW A PERS-

John: you said these were your humansonas? John: for therapy? John: why do you have 2? John: and why is one of them a girl?

Karkat: WHAT? Karkat: IS THAT NOT ALLOWED? Karkat: I CAN EXPLORE MY FEMININE SIDE IF I WANT.

Kanaya: In Case You Are Wondering Kanaya: I Too Made A Humansona

John: AAA!!!!!!

Kanaya: BLEEEH!!!!!!

John: KANAYA! John: how long have you been in here with us?!

Kanaya: The Whole Time! Kanaya: Did You Not Know I Was In Here?

John: NO!

Karkat: SEE?! Karkat: THIS RIGHT HERE. Karkat: THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT. Karkat: THIS IS EXACTLY WHY YOU KNOCK AND ASK BEFORE ENTERING ANOTHER PERSONS RESPITE BLOCK. Karkat: CUZ ITS AS RUDE AS IT IS DANGEROUS. Karkat: YOURE LUCKY IT WAS KANAYA AND I AND NOT SOMEONE LIKE EQUIUS. Karkat: WHO WOULD REFLEXIVELY PUNCH YOU INTO GORE UPON BEING STARTLED. Karkat: SO SAY IT WITH ME. Karkat: WHEN YOU ENTER ANOTHER PERSONS ABODE... Karkat: FUCKING KNOCK FIRST.

[cowgurrrl]

Getting Older

Author’s note: FUCK IT WE’RE TALKING ABOUT TOMMY’Y GRIEF

Summary: "I love my little brother so much. I wish I could take back the years I spent treating him like I didn't." aka Joel and Tommy Talk [1.5k]

Warnings: discussions of deployment/Army, mentions of Sarah and Tess, pregnancy, deceased parent, learning to love someone even when you can't recognize them anymore

The brothers had been avoiding the topic pretty much since Joel learned of Maria. They were close once. Of course, they were. Joel let Tommy live in his home, work with him, and help him raise his daughter once he came back from Afghanistan. When the nightmares got bad, Joel was there in his stoic, big brother way to ask about therapists and support groups for veterans. When Joel didn't have enough money to buy Sarah a bike for her birthday despite scraping together pennies and dimes for months, Tommy miraculously came up with it after a few rounds of Texas Hold' Em at the local bar. They were a team. Had been since their mom died. 

But twenty years of a world ruled by fungus is enough to break any bond. The first few weeks in Jackson are rough. Not only are Joel and Ellie recovering from their journey, but Jackson offered up a whole new world of pain that Joel didn't even know existed. Kids Sarah's age running around without a care in the world. His baby brother suddenly no longer a baby anymore but a husband and a father-to-be. The little graveyard a little further away with lovingly etched headstones that make his stomach turn when he thinks about the river his little girl died next to. Couples walking the street hand-in-hand, and he knows Tess hated PDA, but maybe she would've made an exception. You don't realize how big a bed can be when it's suddenly empty for the first time in a decade. They struggle. All of them. There is no one in this little fucked up family that goes untouched by the hurt. 

It takes a month before Joel invites Tommy and Maria over to their house for dinner. Joel does his best to make a niceish dinner and even buys freshly cut flowers from the market. Ellie teases him about it, and he teases her back, but deep down, he just wants everything to be okay again. Normal. Tommy and Maria arrive with a wave of polite smiles and offerings of help, which Joel refuses like any good host. He finishes dinner while Ellie tells her aunt and uncle about school and her new friends. It's quaint when they sit down at the table together. If you squint, you could almost believe this is how it's always been. 

They shoot the shit and tell stories and enjoy the meal Joel lovingly made for them. Joel even asks about the pregnancy, which makes his insides clench like a vice grip, but he doesn't let it show. Maria gives surface details: how far along she is, how she's feeling, how the nursery's coming along. He's silently grateful they don't talk about names or clothes. He'd always saved Sarah's baby clothes in little boxes in the attic. "Just in case," he told himself. Whether it was in the event of a sibling for Sarah or a cousin, he never got to find out. Now he wonders what became of the boxes of pastel pinks and yellows somewhere in Austin. 

When Maria yawns and announces she's tired, Tommy offers to take her home. She refuses and looks at Ellie. "I've got some more clothes for you back at the house. Wanna come look at them with me?" She asks. Ellie looks to Joel for permission or maybe reassurance that she's safe to go with Maria. He nods and picks up her empty plate. "You better get a move on." He urges, and just like that, they're out the door and talking like they've known each other forever. Joel and Tommy collect the dirty plates and wash them in the sink side by side, a tradition their mother instilled in them so young they can barely remember a time when they didn't do it. Tommy's the first one to break the silence.

"She's a good kid." He says, testing the waters, and Joel nods. 

"Most of the time," Joel says, laughing to himself. "She's nothin' like Sarah." It's the first time they've talked about her. Really talked about her for a long time. Tommy freezes like he's trying to figure out what to say or do, but Joel continues. "They're both smart and funny and strong. I think they woulda even been friends. But Ellie…" he trails off. "Ellie's just different. A pain in the ass, sure, but different." He shrugs as he puts a cup face down to dry on the towel next to the sink. "And your little one'll be different, too."

"Joel-" 

"I know you're gonna wanna compare them to Sarah 'cause that's what I did, but it don't work like that. Every kid's different. You just gotta figure out how. You gotta give 'em a chance to show you who they are." He continues. Tommy knows not to interrupt him when he gets on a soapbox like this. So, just like he did when they were kids, he stays quiet and follows his big brother's lead. "I'm happy for you. I really am, and not 'cause I'm forcin' it or anything. I always knew you were gonna be a good dad, and I know it now."

"But?" Tommy asks, and Joel shakes his head. 

"No 'but.' I'm just thinkin'." 

"'Bout what?"

"Your wife kinda scares me," Joel admits, making Tommy laugh. The sound is reminiscent of summer days spent roughhousing in the backyard or playing with little green Army men in the kitchen while their big chocolate lab, Arlo, lay on the cool tile nearby. 

"Yeah, me too," Tommy says, and now it's Joel's turn for childhood giggling. When the laughter dies down, Joel turns and looks at his brother fully. If he looks past the beard and the long hair, he can almost see the eighteen-year-old he dropped off at boot camp all those years ago. It pushes on an ache in his heart, and maybe that's what prompts him to finally say what he's been dodging this whole time.

"I wish I was there," he mumbles. "Your wedding." The weight of the admission hits Tommy square in the shoulders, and he clears his throat. 

"Me too." 

"Was it… I mean, was it nice? Did you get all fancy or anythin'?" He asks, and Tommy chuckles. 

"Yeah, it was nice. Borrowed a suit that was a little too big, and Maria wore a dress that was a little too old, and we got married down at the courthouse few years ago. I've got a few pictures if you wanna see 'em." Tommy smiles, and Joel does too, and for a second, they're not men beaten down by wars and death. They're two little boys with missing teeth and red popsicle staining their mouths. 

"That's nice," Joel nods. "You deserve nice. I want you to have nice. Always did." The words drown out the dripping sink and the wind blowing through the trees and shaking leaves against the windowpanes. They land somewhere deep in Tommy's stomach, where he stored all emotion and grief down after that September night when he dragged Joel away from Sarah because he was being a "fuckin' idiot." They don't fully relieve him of what he feels is his share of the blame for how things happened, for what happened to Sarah, but they made it a little less heavy. Tommy didn't realize tears had sprung to his eyes until Joel sucked his teeth and pulled him into his chest like he did when Tommy scraped his knees, falling off his bike in second grade. 

"I love you. I'm sorry I acted like I didn't for so long." Joel whispers, his own tears threatening his lash line, and Tommy tightly wraps his arms around his big brother. 

"Love you too," Tommy says, removing a stone from the pile on Joel's shoulders. "Thanks for comin' back for me."

"I'll always come back for you. You're my brother."

Not a soldier. Not a hunter, a raider, or a smuggler. Not even a patrolman. A brother. It's been a long time since Thomas Miller has been allowed to only be a brother. He thinks he likes it. He thinks he can get used to it. He thinks there will never be a day after this one where he doesn't include brother in his list of titles because, for once, he's proud to be Joel's brother, and he will be until the day he dies. 

When they were little, and they used to fight over stupid things like bikes and what music to play in the car, their mama would look at them in the rearview mirror and raise her eyebrows in the exact way Joel is prone to doing and shake her head. "Now you two better settle it 'fore I settle it for you," she'd scold. "Y'all are gonna have to learn to live with one another 'cause I'm not gonna have all this fightin' all the time. Y'all are brothers, and that's gotta count for something." Tommy thinks he can hear his mother's voice in his head as they cry together for the first time in decades. He thinks she'd be happy with the way they turned out. He thinks she'd be proud of them for coming back together in this way.

They're brothers, after all. That's gotta count for something. 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

[midnight-fauna]

"i just wanna trust what is mine" (huskerdust)

Pairing: Angel Dust/Husk

Chapter: 1/1

Word count: 5,063

Summary: Five times Angel didn't want to be touched by anyone. And the one time he did.

A/N: Originally posted on my Ao3 under "TheExtrovertOutcast".

Trigger warnings: implied physical/sexual abuse, heavy swearing, canon-typical amounts of innuendos, touch-aversion, brief descriptions of panic attacks

i.

Angel staggered into the Hazbin Hotel, slamming the front doors shut behind him. He was practically limping. Valentino had worked him to the goddamn bone, insisting he tried out new kinks that Angel didn’t even know people could have. Sick bastards. 

He plopped down on one of the barstools in the lobby, groaning indignantly at the added discomfort for his ass. “Whiskers, I’m gon’ need your strongest shit,” he said, mustering up one of his flirty smiles. He sure as hell didn’t need the new “bar-therapist” to comment about his current state. “And if you could top it off with one of them cute li’l umbrellas, that’d be wonderful,” he added, drawing out the last syllable. 

Husk scoffed. “The fuck does this look like?” He gestured pointedly around him. Given both Husk and the bar were fairly recent add-ons to the hotel, there wasn’t a lot other than cheap alcohol and the occasional roach. 

Sighing over-dramatically, Angel got up off the stool, ignoring how his entire fucking body protested. “‘Gotta do everything myself,” he complained. He circled behind the counter and began inspecting what they had. 

“You can’t just-” Husk began.

“Listen, toots, I get you’re the bartender and all that, but that don’t mean you’re the only one who can make a drink worth shit,” Angel interrupted, his multiple hands searching through the rows of bottles. Alastor clearly didn’t give a rat’s ass about stocking the hotel with half-decent booze.

Husk threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. Whatever. It’s not like I get paid to deal with you fuckers anyways,” he muttered. “‘Bar’s all yours.” 

With that, Husk shuffled to move past Angel. Given the cramped space, Husk had to brush up right against him. 

Angel froze. 

He could do touch. Hell, touch was his entire goddamn career. Outside of work, he touched people all the time. He’d flirtily caress practically anyone who crossed his path. He’d cup their cheeks (face or ass, depending on his mood), whisper filthy shit in their ear, trace his fingers over their lips - whatever worked to give him some semblance of control over the situation.

But people touching him? He wasn’t in control. He wasn’t the one initiating. And all too soon in scenarios like that, no matter how innocent the touch, he’d be reminded of all the sick shit Valentino had him do.

It was almost funny, in a fucked up way: a pornstar that hated people touching him. 

Immediately, Angel yanked himself away from Husk, practically bolting to the other side of the bar. Husk shot him a confused look. 

“You’re, uh, right,” Angel coughed out, desperately trying to cram down the panic rising up in his gut. “There isn’t anything in those bottles worth putting in my body. And that’s saying a lot, comin’ from a guy like me.”

The joke didn’t land as smoothly as he hoped it would. Fuckin’ Husk and his judgemental cat eyes. He felt like the man was staring right into his chained soul, seeing every last vulnerable part of him. 

“Tell Alastor to get better stuff,” Angel added in a futile attempt to sound casual. Offering another bullshit grin, he hurried away from the bar, feeling Husk’s eyes on him the entire time. 

ii.

It wasn’t often that Angel met someone he couldn’t seduce or at least get some kind of sexual reaction from. Obviously, there were exceptions - lesbians, asexuals, and, occasionally, a straight man with no taste. But as far as people who were attracted to men? Angel never had a problem riling them up. 

That was why Husk confused him so goddamn much. 

Angel knew the bastard liked dick to some extent; Husk had mentioned a previous gay fling he’d had when he was still alive. And yet, Angel couldn’t get so much as a blush. A stutter. Fuckin’ anything. It bruised his ego more than he’d like to admit. 

“Man, stop staring at me. You’re creeping me the fuck out.” 

Husk’s voice snapped Angel back to reality. The two were on couches across from each other in the hotel lobby. The book Husk had been reading was bookmarked and his full attention was on Angel. 

Showtime. 

“‘Can’t blame a guy for starin’ at what he likes,” Angel purred. Everyone liked flattery, especially in Hell where a solid ninety-nine percent of the population was egotistical shitbags. “Those reading glasses you got on are enough to make anyone fuckin’ drool, toots.” 

Unfortunately, that made Husk promptly take them off, setting the glasses down on the wooden coffee table. “Cut the shit, Angel. You know that stuff doesn’t work on me.” 

“Oh, come on,” Angel whined. He got up off the couch, sauntering over to Husk. He made a show of stretching out his limbs, letting his crop top ride up even higher. Shit like this would make most people hot in all the right places, but Husk didn’t even look fazed. 

He was practically showing off his entire lower torso by the time he swooped down to Husk’s couch, lounging as close as he could to him. “I know folks who would kill to touch me even once,” Angel crooned, “and here I am offerin’ myself up to you and you ain’t gonna do nothin’ about it?” 

Husk snorted in response. “Just because you’re a pornstar doesn’t mean everyone wants to sleep with you.” 

Angel wrinkled his nose at that. Of course everyone wanted to sleep with him. That was his whole fuckin’ appeal. That’s why he was Valentino’s favorite, for fuck’s sake. 

Deciding to amp up his antics, Angel raised his hand up, gently caressing Husk’s cheek. Maybe he liked ‘em sweeter with less dirty talk. It wasn’t Angel’s favorite role to play, but he could pull it off. 

He ran his hand down Husk’s jaw, trailing down his neck, going to his chest-

“Stop.” Husk’s arm shot up, grabbing Angel’s wrist a little too tightly and yanking it away from him. And suddenly, the pressure was all-too-much like Valentino’s chains, his sharp nails, the goddamn bruises-

“Okay!” Angel yelled, much louder than he’d intended to, snatching his wrist back, pulling it close to his chest. “Fuckin’ okay! I get it!” 

It wasn’t Husk’s fault. Deep down, Angel knew that. He was the one who had crossed boundaries, gone too far. But fuck it, it was easier to be pissed at Husk than to take responsibility for himself. 

Angel turned abruptly, speed-walking away from the lounge, away from Husk, away from the situation, away from anything that could bring those memories back. He nearly tripped on Nifty and, despite growing kind of fond of her, he ignored her. 

Charlie rushed into the room. “Angel! I heard yelling-” She stopped, looking at him worriedly. “Angel, are you-”

“Just leave me the hell alone,” Angel snapped, pushing past her. 

He fucking hoped she didn’t see how close he was to crying. 

iii. 

The day had been a shitshow. 

For some goddamn reason, Charlie decided to show up at Valentino’s studio, try to convince him to chill (like that’d ever work), and then accidentally set fire to fuckin’ everything. In response, Valentino had made him do every disgusting act known to man, all without breaks. And to top the shitty night off, Husk had the gall to judge him - call him “fake”, treat Angel like a goddamn kid, and try to fuckin’ act like he was anything better than Angel.

Fuck Husk. Fuck Valentino. Fuck everyone except for the booze in his hand and the loan sharks around him paying for it. 

“Hey, baby, be a doll and bring me another one,” Angel cooed to the shark beside him that looked like he had a spiked dildo for a nose. “Daddy’s out of juice.” 

Angel lounged back as Dildo-Nose got up and headed towards the bar. Even with what felt like gallons of alcohol in his system, Angel was still exhausted - both physically and emotionally. He had genuinely thought things were getting better for him. The hotel had seemed more welcoming than it used to. For a while, he actually felt like he had some semblance of home. Sure, the place was filled with fuckin’ weirdos, but they’d begun to grow on him. Except for Alastor. That motherfucker still creeped Angel out. 

Dildo-Nose’s raspy voice snapped him back to reality. “Here you go, darling. Just for you-” He was about to hand Angel the drink when he was suddenly snatched backward. 

“Nice try, fuckhead.” 

Angel physically gawked at the sight of Husk grabbing Dildo-Nose and flinging him straight into the jukebox. He barely had time to register what the fuck was going on before Husk grabbed him, throwing cards like they were ninja-stars at the remaining loan sharks. 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Angel protested loudly, tripping over himself repeatedly as Husk dragged him out of the nightclub, the two narrowly missing the several bullets being shot their way. 

By the time they made it out onto the sidewalk, Angel had finally begun to process the situation, but he still couldn’t understand why it was happening. “Husk, what the actual fuck are you doing here?” he demanded. 

It was then that his senses caught up to him and he realized Husk was physically restraining him. Despite what his films would have people think, Angel fucking hated being held still. It made him feel helpless in all the wrong ways. It made him feel trapped, weak, easy to use, easy to abuse. 

“Let go of me!” Angel shouted, hating the way his voice cracked when he did. He tried to yank his upper set of arms back. He needed his fucking control back. He was panicking and it was beginning harder and harder to hide it. 

Husk kept his grip firm. It was infuriating that he was stronger than Angel. “No, I’m taking you back to the hotel,” he said. 

Heart racing for all the wrong reasons, Angel continued to struggle against Husk. He tried telling himself that he wasn’t at the studio, that he wasn’t with Valentino, that he knew Husk wouldn’t try shit, but- “Get off!” 

Angel yanked back hard enough and finally - fucking finally - Husk let him go. “That fucker put something in your drink,” Husk hissed. 

“You don’t think I can tell if someone spikes my drink? I do this all the fucking time.” Angel’s heart was threatening to break out of his ribs, pounding so loud he could barely hear Husk. He wanted to run, but he didn’t want to risk Husk grabbing him again. 

Husk stared at him in disbelief. “You just let people drug you all the time?” 

Angel was about two seconds away from a breakdown. “You think I ask for it?! I don’t ask for any of this shit! I didn’t ask to be this way! I didn’t ask for Charlie to save me! I didn’t ask for you to save me. I can handle myself.”

“Really? Because I just saw someone self-destructing,” Husk retorted. “It seems like - I don’t know - you might need a bartender to talk to.” 

Despite all the hiding and masking and acting Angel had done for as long as he could remember, he broke down right in front of the guy who he was seeking approval from most. He admitted fucking everything - the pretending, the escapism, the self-destruction, the hatred, the fear, all of it - laying out his deepest insecurities for Husk to see. 

And, to Angel’s surprise, Husk didn’t judge him. In fact, he admitted to once being an Overlord and the mistakes he made that led him up to then. 

It was almost comforting, knowing that someone else got it and really understood what Angel had been through. What he was still going through. 

It was kind of nice. 

iv.

“Alright! Thank you everyone for coming to today’s group bonding session!” Charlie cheered happily, clapping her hands together. She, Angel, Husk, Vaggie, Nifty, and Sir Pentious were gathered in the hotel lobby. Thankfully, Alastor was nowhere to be found. “For this afternoon’s activity, we’re all going to go around in a circle and everyone will give each person in the group a compliment! A great way to build trust is to feel appreciated by those around you!”

“Compliments?” Sir Pentious asked with a head tilt, drawing out the last consonant in a hiss. “Like telling someone they would make a worthy adversary?” 

Charlie sucked in a breath. “Um, kind of! Sure!” she said, her painfully optimistic personality trying its best to shine through. 

“I get hundreds of compliments a day about my looks, so I expect some original shit from you all,” Angel said with a grin. He was lounging on one of the lobby couches, Husk beside him. Since their fight and eventual make-up a month earlier, they’d begun to get along surprisingly well. They were a hell of a weird pair, but somehow, they made it work. 

“Angel actually brings up a great point!” Charlie shot him a pleased smile. “We should all try to make our compliments sincere and about the person themselves, not just about their appearance! Angel, how about you go first?” 

Angel nearly choked on air, covering it up with a cough. “Uh- I don’t know. Sentimentality ain’t really my thing, sweetheart,” he said, glancing around at the group. Sure, he’d say he was friendly with everyone, but he didn’t know the first thing about “sincere” compliments. “With my line of work, I tend to only praise people’s dick size.” 

“Oooookay!” Charlie exhaled, still beaming from ear to ear, but her eyes revealed she did not know how to respond to that last part. “Well, er, even if they’re not… perfectly sincere compliments, how about you just give it your best shot?” 

“Alright, fine, fine,” Angel said, waving his hand in the air dismissively. “Uh, here goes nothin’, I guess. Nifty,” he began, looking down at the carpet where she was sitting, grimacing at the number of dead roaches in a pile beside her, “you are… without a doubt, the most insane woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowin’ and that’s sayin’ something.” 

“Angel-!” Vaggie sounded like he was about to scold him, but was abruptly cut off by the sound of Nifty’s borderline-maniacal giggling. 

Nifty rushed over to Angel, offering him one of the dead roaches like a pleased housecat offering her owner a mangy mouse. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she giggled, a familiar crazed look in her single eye. “I’ll name one of the stains on the carpet after you~”

Deciding it was safer to take that shit as a sign of goodwill, Angel nodded, picking up the roach by a leg and setting it to the side. “Wow, uh, thanks, Nifty. That’s… wonderful.” 

She skittered back to her roach pile, humming softly to herself. 

“Vaggie,” Angel paused, for a second, knowing he’d have to choose his words a little more carefully, “you’re scarily good at killin’ people and takin’ charge. The hotel’s, uh, lucky to have you protectin’ it.”

“That was surprisingly decent of you to say,” Vaggie said with raised eyebrows. 

Angel turned away. Hell, this all felt humiliating. He wasn’t one to make people actually like him for anything other than sex. He never even signed up for this goody-two-shoes shtick. Initially, he’d only joined for the hotel so he had a free place to stay as far from Valentino as possible when he wasn’t working. 

He glanced at Charlie, giving her an expression along the lines of, “Do I really have to keep going?” Unfortunately for him, she gave him a nod and a vaguely encouraging thumbs up. 

Deciding to try and get it over as fast as possible, he quickly rattled out, “Charlie, you do great at running this hotel. I used to think you had a zero percent chance of redeemin’ Hell’s worst, but now I think you have a solid eight percent chance, so that’s progress. Sir Pentious, you’re fuckin’ weird as hell, but I’m beginnin’ to like you. And, screw it, if you want to go after Cherri Bomb, I ain’t gonna stop you. She bit her last ex’s head off, so to be honest, I’m more worried for you.” 

Charlie was silent, clearly trying to process all the bullshittery that spewed out of Angel’s mouth. Sir Pentious, however, seemed elated. “Really? So, you think I have a chance with her? This is brilliant news! I will have my dear Egg Bois set up a courtship invitation with her!” His weird-ass snake eyes were practically shimmering with excitement. 

Apparently relieved at Sir Pentious’ positive reaction, Charlie smiled again. “That seemed to go well! Perfect! Now, you just need to give Husk a compliment and we can move on to the next person!” 

Right. Husk. Angel tried to swallow down his nervousness as he turned to Husk. He was cool with everyone else at the hotel. Friendship might be a strong word, but it was something like that. But with Husk? There was something deeper: a mutual understanding, shared trauma, maybe actual trust - if that was still something Angel could actually fucking feel. 

“Come on. Surely, you have one nice thing to say about me,” Husk said with an easy-going smile, light sarcasm lacing his tone. 

Angel scoffed, trying to keep his usual air of nonchalance. “I don’t know. Nothing’s comin’ to mind. I guess you’re a half-decent drinking buddy,” he said, teasing a little. “You, uh, get me… in ways other folks don’t. And because of that, you’re pretty damn patient with me, even when I’m a whiny asshole, which I appreciate. A lot. You’re fun to hang around. I feel comfortable around you, which, shit, I don’t think I’ve ever felt since workin’ for Valentino. You’re a real cool son of a bitch and I’m lucky to have you.” 

He suddenly became very aware that the room had fallen silent. Hell, even Nifty wasn’t doing her creepy ritualistic-sounding humming. He’d been rambling. He’d let too much spill. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“That actually means a lot to me,” Husk said, a little grin on his face. He reached up and placed his hand on Angel’s shoulder. And for a blissful second, it felt fine. It felt okay. Until Angel’s goddam mind became too acutely aware of how close Husk’s fingers were to his neck, how easily he could grab him by the throat just like how Valentino did so often. Angel knew Husk would never do that. Of course, he knew that. But the fear was still there. Consuming him, fucking torturing him every second that Husk’s hand was on his shoulder.

Angel shrugged his shoulder and thankfully, it made Husk’s touch fall away. Trying to recover, Angel cleared his throat loudly. “Right. Okay. Next person.” 

It took until the end of the group activity for Angel’s heart to finally calm down. 

v.

Angel had been at Hazbin Hotel for over five months and it had genuinely begun to feel like home. He couldn’t remember the last time a place felt like that, even back when he was alive.

He was helping restock Husk’s bar with better shit after the two of them had gone out and bought about three dozen bottles of actually decent booze. In all honesty, Angel couldn’t care less about the quality of their alcohol (he’d drank a lot worse, both on Earth and in Hell). Lately, he’d been looking for more and more excuses to spend time with Husk. 

It wasn’t a crush, per se. Angel was a fucking pornstar, for Lucifer’s sake. He didn’t get horny-people shit like that. It was just that he enjoyed Husk’s company. That was all. 

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. 

Speak of the devil, Husk came around the bar, a box of bottles clanking together in his arms. “Vaggie offered to give us some of her collection that she used to hide from Charlie. I took a look at them and honestly, she has some good shit in here.” 

“Yeah?” Angel smiled in spite of himself. “‘Doesn’t surprise me that she hid it. I don’t think Charlie’s still too thrilled that we got a bar in her redemption joint.” 

Husk shrugged, setting the box down on the bar top. “I don’t know. Maybe she could turn it into a lesson on healthy moderation.” 

Angel snorted. “Sure sounds like somethin’ she’d do.” 

He began sifting through the bottles, taking a few of them out to inspect the labels. After a while, he became very aware of Husk’s eyes on him. The gaze wasn’t judgemental like it once was when they first met. It felt warmer than that. Softer than that. Angel sure as hell wasn’t used to anyone looking at him in that way. 

“These’ll do,” Angel said, feigning a nonchalant demeanor. He turned to begin shelving them away, only for his high-heeled boots to catch on one of Nifty’s roach corpse piles. He nearly went careening to the ground, if not for Husk’s hands grabbing onto his waist, hauling him back up before he could smash both the bottles and possibly his skull onto the hardwood floor. 

“Shit-” Angel scrambled to get back his footing, pausing for a few seconds to regain himself before the continued sensation of Husk’s hands on his waist caught up to him. 

It’s just Husk. It’s just Husk, he tried to tell himself. God-fucking-damnit, he hated the way he couldn’t handle even innocent physical touch, not even from the man he trusted the fuckin’ most. What is wrong with me?

In an attempt to save himself from an oncoming panic attack, Angel yanked himself away from Husk, awkwardly smoothing down his clothes. “You’d think I’d be more careful where I step after livin’ with Nifty for as long as we have now,” he joked, willing himself to calm down.

Husk’s gaze told Angel he wasn’t buying it. “Angel, do you not like being touched? At all?” he asked, his voice gentle, careful. As if he was afraid that Angel might break down if he was too direct or harsh. His tone made Angel want to cry and he didn’t know whether it was out of shame or relief. 

“What? Psssh, nah, what are you talkin’ about?” Angel set the bottles down, giving Husk what he hoped looked like an easy-going grin. “I just don’t want you to get an STD or some shit from me.”

Husk frowned. “You and I both know you can’t get an STD from something like that.” 

“You never know! Hell’s a dirty place! There’s probably diseases all over the place, especially on me.” Angel tried to laugh it off, grimacing when he saw Husk’s expression remain serious. “Look, I swear it’s nothin’. You’re worryin’ too much.” 

“I’ve seen you, both with me and a few of the others,” Husk continued. “It seems like you’re fine when you touch us. But the second any of us touch you, even slightly? You shut down. I can see the panic in your eyes every time.”

Angel swallowed, wrapping his two sets of arms around himself. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“It clearly is to you,” Husk said, stepping closer, while still maintaining comfortable space between the two of them (a sentiment that Angel’s heart warmed at). “I don’t know nearly anything about what that asshole moth does to you or makes you do, but I’m gonna take a bold guess and say this-” he gestured to Angel’s closed-off posture, “-is because of him. I want to know what you’re uncomfortable with because I never want to make you feel the way that motherfucker makes you feel or the way Alastor makes me feel. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Going quiet for a long moment, Angel nodded. “Yeah, I hear you.” He glanced around the lobby, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. “Look, I really enjoy being around you. You make me feel like I can be myself and not- whatever it is that Val wants me to be, y’know? I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and think I don’t trust you or shit. ‘Cause I do. It’s just… something about being touched without warnin’. I don’t know. It makes me feel like I wanna crawl out of my skin.”

Husk nodded. Thank Lucifer, his gaze didn’t seem like he was pitying Angel or seeing him as some fucked-up mess that needed to be coddled like a damn baby. He just seemed understanding. Empathetic. And fuck, if that didn’t make Angel’s guts do a flip. 

“I’ll tell Nifty to keep her roach piles away from the bar,” Husk said, mercifully changing the subject as though sensing how uncomfortable it made Angel to bear his soul (that wasn’t even really his anymore) to him. 

“Thank you,” Angel mumbled quietly, hoping Husk knew he wasn’t talking about the roaches. 

vi. 

They’d done it. They’d actually fucking done it. They’d fended off the Extermination.

The hotel was in shambles, to say the least. Hell, Angel didn’t know if it could be considered a building anymore at that point. Because of the extreme damage, only a few rooms had been left (somewhat) intact. Charlie had promised they’d finish renovations tomorrow with the help of her dad, but she insisted everyone rest after the whole-ass battle they’d had.

Given the very limited selection of rooms that weren’t extreme safety hazards to sleep in (four to be exact - Vaggie had counted), Charlie had everyone pair off. Angel had a feeling it was more to give everyone a sense of companionship given they all had a new sprinkle of PTSD added into their already shitty mental states. Charlie and Vaggie had obviously gotten one of the rooms to themselves. Rosie had insisted on keeping Alastor company. Why the hell someone would want to spend a second with that creep was beyond Angel’s understanding. Nifty and the remaining Egg Bois had grouped up in one of the smaller hotel rooms. And that left the remaining room for Angel and Husk. 

“Seriously? The sharing one bed shtick?” Angel scoffed, plopping down on the mattress. “‘Sounds like something straight out of one of my porn movies.” 

Husk raised an eyebrow. “I can sleep on the floor if the thought makes you uncomfortable. I know, uh, being reminded of your work isn’t exactly your idea of a good time.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Angel insisted, clambering into bed, already in his pajamas and having cleaned most of the angel blood out of his hair. “It ain’t like I think you’re gonna pull shit or anything.” 

With a shrug, Husk reluctantly got into bed beside him. The room was already near pitch dark thanks to the electrical system being blasted apart. The only light was from the crimson sky of Hell, serving as a forever reminder of their damnation. 

Silence fell between the two of them for a long while, a comfortable few inches of space between them on the king-sized mattress. Angel was beginning to think Husk had already fallen asleep until he finally spoke. 

“It’s hard to believe he’s gone, you know?” Husk said quietly and Angel immediately knew who he was referring to. An uncomfortable sensation of guilt panged in his stomach. Fuck, he hadn’t even been thinking about Sir Pentious. In all the chaos, he’d nearly forgotten about the insane, but admirable, shit he’d pulled. 

“Yeah,” Angel breathed. “And just as I was beginnin’ to like him too.” 

Husk exhaled out a long, tired sigh. “I wish he’d been the one to magically show up, not Alastor. Fuck, for a second there, I really thought I was free.” 

“I’m sorry” was all Angel could muster. Hell, he was shit with words and even more shit at comforting people. He wished he knew all the right things to say to make Husk feel better, show him that Angel really did care about him. It was probably more than just care. Angel didn’t know what it was that he felt for Husk, but he knew damn well it was strong. Even stronger than his initial admiration and adoration for Valentino back when he’d first met him. 

Without giving himself time to hesitate, he reached forward, enveloping Husk in a hug. At that point, he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about his fears. All he wanted was to comfort Husk. That was the only damn thing driving him. 

“Whoa-” Husk mumbled under his breath, surprise evident in his tone. “Angel, I know you don’t like this sort of thing. You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Angel interrupted.

Cautiously, Angel felt Husk relax and carefully wrap his arms around Angel, embracing him back. To Angel’s immediate surprise, he didn’t feel the all-too-familiar sensation of panic rising up in him. If anything, he felt the opposite. He felt safe. He felt accepted. Shit, he felt loved. 

Husk was pressed right up against Angel’s whole body. His face was buried in Angel’s shoulder and Angel could feel Husk’s breath gently puffing against the top of his chest fluff. Under any other circumstances, Angel would be yanking away, shoving the person off of him. His heart was beating slower than usual, rather than faster. He didn’t know if it was some sort of freaky cat magic, but he genuinely felt calmer. 

It dawned on him that it was the only time he’d felt someone pressed so completely against him and it didn’t feel sexual at all. 

“I don’t think I can remember the last time I hugged someone,” Husk mumbled against his shoulder.

Angel huffed out a quiet laugh. “Shit, people wrap their arms around me all the damn time. But uh, yeah, this… feels different. ‘Feels better.”

He could’ve sworn he felt Husk smile a little and Hell, it made Angel’s stomach flutter like he was a goddamn teenager. 

They laid there for a long time until Husk’s breath slowed, his weight leaning more into Angel as quiet snores escaped his parted lips. Someone falling asleep on him was definitely new to Angel. Even on set, Valentino didn’t give a shit about aftercare or, honestly, any care at all. 

Despite telling himself over and over again that he’d never trust someone again after Val, Angel found himself drifting off next to Husk, feeling safe and secure in ways he’d been craving for decades. 

[cookinguptales]

guess it's time for the vent post

(note: I will be okay. usually my ketamine treatments help with pmdd symptoms, but occasionally a treatment won't hit quite right and things will get worse for a couple days. I'll be okay, though, I'm just feeling... well, a cocktail of self-doubt, anxiety, loneliness, and overthinking. lmao)

anyway, full disclosure, this won't be a very nice or happy post and is probably the kind of thing I would've posted in a locked LJ entry back in the day but that doesn't really exist in the same way anymore so just bear with me. I need to just. get it out somewhere.

lately I've really been worrying that I'm not capable of being in a normal relationship anymore. like, I was never great at social interaction, but I'll admit that things really took a fucking nosedive after a particularly bad relationship with a woman who. well, I don't think it's a night for particulars. she was an adult and I wasn't. I was very lost, very lonely, and very sick back then, and she really enjoyed being the only person I felt like I could count on.

I... was wrong, I guess.

and... idk, I've definitely had a lot of nights since then (and days with therapists) where I try to sort through how exactly that affected me and my ability to form meaningful romantic relationships. I have a difficult time feeling safe with people. honestly, I did even before her (I had... a very fucked-up home life) but it was harder after. and let's just say that a lot of my friends at the time turned out to be... less than friendly when the shit hit the fan.

so... yeah. hard for me to open up to people in a meaningful way, I guess. like, I can tell strangers about my anxieties, but it becomes harder for me to do once we're friends. and even then, I guess I can trust people with my thoughts but not my... idk, emotional safety.

once when I was pretty tipsy I told a friend that I didn't think I could love the kind of person who would actually love me back, and I still worry that it's true. I allow myself feelings very rarely, and when I do, it's always for people who don't feel the same way.

I never... like... set out to do it... I don't think it's a conscious thing. I fell for straight girls a few times. then bi girls with boyfriends. I did eventually make it to single lesbians, but they always ended up either getting girlfriends, not wanting to date at all, or just not wanting to date me.

to be clear, I don't blame any of them. but I'm starting to wonder if maybe I should be blaming me...? like, I never knew that any of them were straight or coupled or uninterested when I developed feelings myself. but I wonder if subconsciously, I picked up on it...?

for a while now, I've been genuinely worried that My Type is girls who aren't into me. :')

like, not consciously. but subconsciously, am I just picking up on the fact that they're not attracted to me? or they're safely ensconced in another relationship? or they are comfortably not dating at all? but either way, they're not looking at me like a potential partner, and I like that?

some days I feel like I've mostly healed from everything that happened, and other days I feel like I'm just going to be broken and fucked-up and unlovable forever. like, jesus christ, have I learned to associate people who actually want me with danger? do I only feel safe with people who aren't attracted to me? is that why that's the only kind of person I ever want to date?

good god, that's fucked up.

I mean, the only two alternatives, really, are that I am just incredibly unlucky or the meaner parts of me are right and people really just don't want a fat cripple with a mediocre personality.

the latter probably isn't entirely true. men are easy, unfortunately, and I'd be happier if they didn't want me.

(and then you run into the special kind of anger that happens when a woman that a man thought was beneath them actually turns them down, oof. guess they thought the girl with the cane would be more desperate, huh?)

and I've been on a few dating app dates with girls who seemed to like me well enough, but like. just no chemistry whatsoever.

is the special spark??? a woman not wanting me???

food for fucking thought.

anyway, I guess I just kind of avoided thinking about it for a long time but I'm in my mid30s now and it kind of feels like I have avoided things for too long now! that's pretty old to have never had a long-term relationship! other than with the fucking creep who wanted to ~teach me about sex~ back when I was young and less disabled and maybe still worth something!

I guess that was uncalled for, but some days I really do feel like there was a window and boy did I fucking miss it. like everyone else had this chance to learn their way around a romance and I spent mine hooked up to hospital wires and texting with a grown-ass woman who fed on youth.

I recognize that a key part of grooming -- and abusive relationships in general -- is their ability to make you feel like they are the only person who will ever love you. I also recognize that these people are very good at finding the one kid in the room who believes at their core that they will never be loved. (or even make it to age 20, I guess. didn't know if the whole intermittent blindness thing was going to kill me or not back then.)

but goddamn do I still feel like she hollowed me out and took all the parts of me that were lovable with her. like maybe she will be the only woman who ever wants me, and that's fucking horrifying to think about.

there are nights where you just stare at the wall and wonder what made you so damn attractive to pedophiles, y'know? I knew enough at that age to shake off the men, but her? didn't even see it coming.

and I suppose there are the worse nights, the ones where you wonder if normal, well-adjusted, not-creepy people never would have wanted you even if you weren't too damaged to carry on a real relationship. like maybe I was insufferable enough without the ptsd. catnip for creeps and not much else.

damn, dude, why am I so good at pulling men who follow me home from the bus stop but not women who actually care about my well-being. that's the question.

idk. I feel like at this point, like... 75% of me has come to terms with it. like, I guess it's just not something that happens to everybody. not everyone finds someone who loves them and who they love in return. not everyone is cut out for that life.

but then I look at my own writing and the way I just keep doing it, I just keep latching onto broken characters who have had the best parts of them hollowed out, who believe that they are unlovable, and I write a story that says no, you're not. Here, I've made someone for you who loves you wholly and desperately, even broken as you are.

and I feel like that must be the last 25%, huh? or at least the part of me that wants to comfort broken creatures, whether those creatures are characters I made up or ones I didn't or my readers or the people I read about on the news or maybe a 15yo kid who just wanted someone to fucking love her.

I want to take care of her so badly now. I want to love her in a good way, not the selfish kind that takes and takes and takes until there is nothing left. But I guess I just don't know how.

I realized the other day that I just wrote a book that I would have loved at that age. Now I kind of feel like I've been writing bedtime stories for a ghost.

I'll be okay. I always am. It's just... a rough night. They come and they have always come and they will always come and all I can do is write.

Just wish it were something more comforting this time. :')

[mysticstarlightduck]

Incorrect Quotes Tag Game!

Thank you for tagging me @rickie-the-storyteller (here)! I really like tags like this and haven't done one in quite a while! So let's go! (I'll go with the cast of Supernova Initiative for this one)

Rules: use this incorrect quotes generator to come up with incorrect quotes for your OCs!

(It is scary how accurate these got OMG lmao)

Gabi: Hey, aren’t you Jack Tithus? The most famous thief in the galaxy? Jack (narrows his eyes suspiciously): You a cop? Gabi: No. Jack (smirks proudly): Then yes, I am.

Deimos: I’m a multitasker! Also Deimos: I can disappoint fifteen people at once.

Artemis, acting tough: You guys don't want to mess with me. Cassiopeia: Yeah, Artemis will straight-up cry in public. Don't try him. Artemis: Exactly, I will straight-up - (Realizes) Cassiopeia (smug as all heck): Artemis, already tearing up: Cassie, why would you say that?!

Pax: Anybody got any crayons so I can color in my Ph. D.?

Deimos (ten years ago, babysitting Cassie for Jack): OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT?! TIME OUT! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! GET UP THERE! (Kid) Cassiopeia: *Climbing* THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!!

Meridian: I'm hot, I’m tall, I'm gay, and I'm on my theatre kid arc.

Vesper: Hey, Aleks, where are you going? Aleks: Well, it depends. When I die, probably hell. Aleks: But right now I’m going to get some fries.

Lyorna, looking at Jack: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

Cassiopeia: Hey, are you okay? Jack: Yeah. Cassiopeia: 'Yeah.' You don't look okay... Jack (jokingly, about to change the subject so fast): Well, then stop looking.

Pax: I just got the best idea I've ever had in my entire life! *Later* Ethean, to Pax, disappointed and a bit impressed: That was the worst idea you’ve ever had in your entire life.

Jack: So, company is coming, I want this place looking like Disney On Ice in one minute! (frantically organizing the chaos) Cassie, if you haven't made your bed already, throw it away - it's too late to make it now! Get rid of the couches, guys, we can't let people know we sit!! The chairs need to be pushed in, there can't be any sign of living in this house - (On the verge of a mental breakdown, continues rambling)

The entire crew: (done with life)

Deimos: Vesper, is that... my mug you’re drinking out of? Vesper: No, it’s mine. Deimos: It... looks just like the one I have... Vesper (holding the mug like a gremlin): You don’t have one like this anymore.

The Director: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'sadistic bastard’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.

Deimos, playing a video game: This game is so frustrating! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! Jack: OK... then I think it’s time to turn off the game for a little while. Deimos (with the manic energy of someone who chugged three bottles of energetics at once, utterly disheveled): BUT I'M HAVING FUN!

Aleks: You... you saved me. You're not a bad guy at all. YOU'RE A HERO, AN UGLY UGLY UGLY HERO! Noctus: Call me ugly again, and maybe I will eat you.

Jack: Just wondering, did you get any sleep? Artemis: Did I get any... leap? Jack (hella confused): A what now...?

Ethean: I'm trying to juggle family life and work life but I can't seem to find a balance. What do you suggest I do to keep everyone happy? Noctus (deadpan): Quit your job, kill your family. Seriously, I can't stand Pax any moment longer-

Vesper: Your problem is that you’ve got no common sense. Aleks: No, I’ve got plenty of common sense! Aleks: I just choose to ignore it.

Deimos: Did you miss me while I was gone? Cassiopeia (being a little shit with a grudge): Oh, you were gone? Wow. Didn't even notice.

Cassiopeia (at 2AM in the morning): I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies. Jack (who just wants to sleep): You’re too young to have enemies. Cassiopeia: You don’t even know.

Deimos: Hi- Vesper: Leave before there's a terrible misunderstanding between my foot and your ass.

Aleks: Do I sound smart, or am I smart? Noctus: You sound unbearable, to be perfectly honest.

Deimos: Fine! I don't give a shit! Jack: You seem to give a lot of shit for someone who claims not to give a shit.

Noctus: Pick a card, any card. Jack (smirks): Fine. Noctus: Wait, that's my credit card! Jack, already running away, looking over his shoulder: You said any card.

Deimos: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

Pax: O darling brother, you love me, right? Ethean (suspicious): Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

Noctus (panicked): This should be illegal! Pax (having the time of his life): It is!!!!!!

Cassiopeia: But that’s censorship. Noctus: Well done. You are correct. You’re being censored. Now go away.

Jack, to Cassiopeia: I'm leaving for the weekend, so I hid 100 units in your room for food. Clean your room, and you will find it.

Meridian, putting their hands over Vesper's eyes: Guess who! Vesper: It's either Meridian or the cold, clammy hands of death. Meridian, putting their hands away: It's me! Vesper: Dammit.

Jack: Deimos likes to say ‘you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,’ but I happen to believe you can be both.

Jack: *dangling from a rope over a pit of fire* Remember when I said I’d tell you when we’re in too deep? Cassiopeia: *also dangling from a rope over a pit of fire* Yes? Jack: ...We’re in too deep.

Artemis, sniffling: Calm down, I’m probably not sick. It might just be allergies. Meridian: Okay, tell me this: are you like, really tired? Artemis: I have depression, robot-man, what do you think?

Aleks: I don’t care what anyone thinks about me. Vesper: Ok. Aleks: Wait, why such a muted reaction? Did that not sound cool?

Noctus (lying through his teeth, cause he actually does care): I just wanted to say that over the years, I have come to regard you as… people I met.

Aleks, throwing a pokeball at Deimos: Deimos, I choose you! Deimos, not looking up from his book and catching it: You need an Ultra ball to catch this Legendary Pokémon.

Meridian: Are you tall enough to play basketball though? Gabi: Are you calling me short? Meridian: No, I'm calling you vertically challenged.

Pax: You need to be more careful! Ethean who was dragged into Pax's issue (and lost his entire career because of it): Careful? CAREFUL?! I'LL CAREFULLY WRAP MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT-

Deimos: You know, I used to play back in my gory days. Artemis: ... You mean glory days? Deimos: Ah, that too.

Artemis: SSSHIT- I BURNT MY LIP- Cassiopeia: ...Why the fuck would you even drink coffee with a METAL STRAW in the FIRST PLACE?? Artemis: BECAUSE WE WERE OUT OF THE PLASTIC ONES!

The Director: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

Jack: And what did we learn, Vesper? Vesper, begrudgingly: Tackling someone isn’t the correct response to being asked a simple question.

Ethean: What happened?! Pax: Do you want the long version or the short version? Ethean: Sh-short?? Pax: Shit's fucked. Ethean, facepalming:: Okay, long. Pax: Shit's very fucked.

Jack, opening a bottle of Hot Chocolate: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

Cassiopeia: *aggressively throws a pencil at Deimos* Deimos, deadpan: Oh no. I’ve been stabbed. I’ve been impaled.

Kaelus (Lyorna's Dad): Don’t worry, I have a permit. The Junction: ...This just says “I can do what I want”.

Kaelus: Exactly. NOW GET OUT OF MY FUCKING PLANET -

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @cowboybrunch, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and OPEN TAG

[aerodaltonimperial]

.

I left all my writers discords and cancelled my QueryTracker subscription in the last week or two. There might still be a few rejections that come in super delayed on queries I've CNRed (closed, no response), but they are already rejections to me anyway. This is the first week or so where I've been completely out of trying to achieve that big, big life dream, and I feel... lighter. I feel free. I think I knew the writing was on the wall with the publishing industry years ago and I was too embarrassed to quit, because it meant acknowledging that I had failed. And now that I've deliberately taken myself out of it, I don't feel like I have to keep producing things I don't love anymore. I haven't loved original writing since probably 2018. I just want to write shit that I'm excited about. I just want to be ridiculous in fandom and write fics that make me happy to create and happy to share. And this fic is pouring out of me, and I'm no longer feeling guilty about using my limited free time to write fic when I know I should be working on a novel, and I look at it and I'm like yeah, this is so fucking good. This is fucking great. I love what I am making. I am having such a nice time.

Sure, I have nothing to brag about on social media: no book deals, no end caps with my name on them, no shiny hardbacks to autograph. But that doesn't change that I'm a good writer. It doesn't change my writing. I even told my therapist a month or so back that my novels and my fic, I know it's the same words. It's the same sentences. My writing is the same across the genres. And I admitted that I wonder if agents and editors and everyone in the publishing industry, they could tell that I didn't love it. They could tell from what I was producing that my heart wasn't in it. And maybe they could. But that doesn't mean I'm not good. I tried to make my hobby a stream of income, partially because of course, who doesn't want to see their words in a Barnes & Noble? But also because it legitimized it. I just want it to be my hobby. It stopped being enjoyable when all the pressure came along with it, all the need to succeed and be validated, especially when I failed.

All I ever wanted was for people to read my words and feel something as a result. And I can do that here. It's a smaller scale, sure, but honestly, I think in fandom it means more. People show up to fandom out of love. And that means something to me, that people have chosen to use their free time reading my fics. They could be doing anything! And they read my fics. That means something. I'm still struggling with flipping back over to that being enough. But I suppose, at the end of the day, I am a failed author, but I'm not a failed writer. I tried, you know? At least I can say that I really tried.

I just wanna do this. Be in fandom. It makes me happy. It's a spot of joy for me when I sometimes don't get much in a day. 💚

[crappy-homestuck-confessions]

I actually hate Homestuck as a story a lot. There is virtually no cohesion to it and if there is it's so damn boring I just forgot where it was. The majority of the (to me) interesting characters get killed off instantly or quit speaking altogether, or their more interesting traits are subdued so they can instead be therapists for the dull ones whose entire shtick is being sad or being obnoxiously sarcastic, constantly. Or they too just start constantly complaining about something I can't follow at all. It's like the kids from The Perk of Being a Wallflower came in to a group of insanely dynamic, unique kids with traits I had never seen before and just quietly turned them into themselves instead...and then the others just died or got turned into a sock or became mute or something. And then the plot. What the fuck is it? It's like I'm watching someone's acid trip that's also being fueled by Adderall. (In fact, I do genuinely wonder if the story was written under the influence, because some designs in the background look a lot like the sort of things I hallucinated on strong acid). Every single panel conveys absolutely nothing to me, and then reading the dialogue doesn't clear much up either. Nothing feels connected or planned, and it's tedious as hell to read. I essentially just like a couple characters, especially Gamzee, and I really couldn't tell you why, nor am I saying he's some sort of objectively superior character -- he's just my little guy, and I'll admit, he was a bit like me at lower parts of my life so I'm biased. And I HATE how they did him in the epilogues. That shit was unhinged and was definitely written by someone who absolutely despised him, and the way all the characters unanimously ganged up on him just felt incredibly forced and even at times pretentious. You're telling me "Yiffy" is fine but him not just being the oblivious bull in a cuckold relationship, doomed to later be a corpse, was out of the question? And did I really need to read about how bad he smelled every other sentence? Anyways, I'm not saying "oh fuck Hussie for this and that, yada yada yada", I think he's a creative dude and he definitely has a knack for creating extremely unique characters that are both very real and also like people you've never seen before, and the things he draws and the lore he builds is also incredibly unique. He didn't write the story for me in particular, other people were cool with it, that's how it goes when someone else is telling a story. I more if anything feel frustrated that there is content I'm incredibly fascinated with, with characters I really like and find extremely funny and fascinating, endearing even, that's surrounded by bloat that I have zero interest in. I'm basically in a restaurant eating the best shrimp I've ever had in my fucking life but it's being served with a mountain of onions and bell peppers, and I hate those, and removing them isn't an option. But if I want those shrimp, I've got to accept picking around the onions. Im not upset with the chef or the people who like onions, I'm more like "fuck I want these shrimp, I wish I had a way to get it without the onions, but I can't. Oh well, I'll just vent about it and order the same thing next week anyways".

.

[btsqualityy]

Hey can we have a drabble of the parks being distant and snappy cuz of the miscarriage. Maybe some arguments, visit to docs and tears concluded by lots of cuddles. Thanks shay 💗

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage

"So, you look to be doing well Y/N," Dr. Choi said as your appointment reached it's end. "Physically, you aren't carrying any lingering scars from the miscarriage."

"Wish I could say the same for my emotions," you joked dryly, making Dr. Choi smiled sadly.

"I do have some referrals to therapists, if that's something you're interested in," she said.

"Uh, I'm not sure," you grimaced. "I'll have to think about it."

"Alright, that's totally fair," Dr. Choi sighed. "If you and Jimin decided that you wanted to start trying again though, you are able to physically."

"Alright, thank you," you murmured quietly. Once your appointment ended and you made it back home, you trudged upstairs to find Jimin sitting in an easy chair in your bedroom, his notebook on his lap as he wrote furiously.

"Hey," you spoke up and Jimin looked up at you.

"Hey," he replied shortly as you sat down on the bed. "How'd your appointment go?"

"Dr. Choi said I'm ok physically," you reported. "The miscarriage didn't leave any scarring or anything like that so we can try again whenever we're ready."

"Hm," he muttered before focusing back on his notebook.

"Hm?" You repeated with an arched brow. "You have nothing to say about that?"

"I'm happy that you're healthy," he said without looking up.

"You don't sound too happy."

"What were you expecting?" Jimin wondered as he looked at you again. "For me to throw you onto the bed and fuck another baby into you, right here and right now?"

"Why do you always have to be such a dickhead about things?" You demanded to know. "You don't have to be so crude."

"And why do you always have to be so insensitive?" He shot back. "You weren't the only one who lost a baby and you haven't even asked me if I'm ready to try again yet."

"The way you've talked since we found out we lost the baby, it sounded like you were," you shrugged. "Sorry I assumed."

"Yeah, whatever," he scoffed, getting up from the chair and walking out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

..............................................

A few days later, things had remained icy between you and Jimin. The two of you hadn't really talked and you had gotten used to falling asleep alone at night and waking up the same way.

You were laying in the dark, your eyes droopy but your body unable to relax enough to let yourself rest. Suddenly, you heard the door to your bedroom open and footsteps fall into the room. You held your breath as Jimin moved over and climbed onto the bed, wanting him to think you were asleep, but you couldn't help the gasp that escaped you when Jimin wrapped an arm around your body and pulled you close to him.

"I know you're awake but I just need you to listen to me," he whispered, waiting until you had slowly nodded your head before he continued. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that and I'm sorry for doing so. I just....I'm so fucking angry still."

"I know the feeling," you replied.

"And I have no idea how to handle the shit," he added. "My heart aches for someone that I didn't even know. Plus, if things had been worse, I could've lost you and the thought of that drives me insane."

"Jimin-ssi," you whispered as you turned around so that you could look at his face, and you weren't surprised to see tears already streaming down his cheeks. "Baby, if you're hurting, you have to talk to me. Remember when you told me that we were in this together?"

"I remember," he nodded.

"Then come to me and we can cry together," you told him, a sob escaping your throat afterwards. "I already lost our child, I don't wanna lose you too."

"Oh jagi, you could never lose me," Jimin chuckled through his tears, tightening his grip on you.

"Promise me?" You requested, your hands coming up to cup his face.

"I promise," he swore. "I love you so much."

"I love you more," you replied, bringing him closer and pressing his head against your chest as you held him in your arms. The two of you stayed like that all night, crying together until you drifted off to sleep.

[remyxavierr]

I saw this post the other day, and I didn't like it or reblog it, and I very much regret that because I wanted to show it to my therapist tomorrow. I'm going to try and describe it to her using me as an example, maybe. Or just an unknown person. I don't know yet.

I feel like I am very good at looking like I am holding it together. My co-worker will literally call out from work because our job sucks and she's working really hard to cover others' responsibilities and she gets burned out and depressed. I just make jokes and say shit like "my antipsychotics are doing some heavy lifting today!" and continue on. But then something small, something insignificant will happen and I will have a full breakdown. I will be sobbing for hours in my room, I will wonder how I have made it this far in life when all I want to do is lie down and die, I will grieve over the loss of my brother, my cat, my Nana, and my friends, even though I have mourned them many times before, I will wonder what a trauma-free life would have been like, what does a caring and loving mother look and feel like, how different would I be had I not been sexually abused so many times from the ages of 8-24, would I be successful if not for my debilitating bipolar? And then, after a few hours of sobbing and catastrophizing, I will put makeup over my red and puffy face, I will put on a pretty or sexy outfit, put on music, and I will pretend like that never happened. Until it happens again, and again, and again. This is how I have been living my life since I became a teenager. I thought it was normal to just pretend it all away, take the metaphorical beatings of life (whether it was fair or not), make jokes so that no one else is uncomfortable, and then breakdown in private. I have had friends and lovers leave me because I am too "emotional" which, when I look back on everything, I think I did a hell of a job being strong for everyone else in every stage of my life even though no one ever did that for me. I just figured, some people are the care-takers in life, they take care of everyone else and support everyone else, and they deal with their own baggage, separately and alone.

I have been on the verge of a breakdown everyday since I was 13 or 14 years old, and I have just continued to mosey along in life as though this is a completely human thing to do, and now that I am in therapy, I realize it's not. I realize it by how many times my therapist mentions "that must have been traumatic for you," when it was just another fucking Wednesday for me. I understand therapy takes time, and I imagine I will be in therapy for many years, but I have no idea how to untangle all of this fucked up shit inside of my head and I have no idea what kind of person I am without all of this trauma and these horrible coping mechanisms. I just want to continue on, drinking and smoking, sleeping too much to avoid feelings when I can, and having my breakdowns in private so that I can just barely make it through life because I have known no other way and have been taught no other way and what else is there? Life is hard and horrible and long but one day I will finally get to die and that is what I look forward to. That can't be all there is, right?

Anyway, my makeup looks really fucking good right now, I look hot, and I'm trying not to cry because I dared turn the music off for a few minutes and now I can hear my thoughts and I'm being chewed up by them currently, so I'm going to turn the music back on, smoke weed, and pretend today away until my therapy appointment tomorrow when I will have to bring this all up and ruin my entire day, and then begin my work week and act like I am totally cool and have my shit together.

No one protected me all my life and now look at this fucking mess I am. I am what happens when people have children even though they are absolutely NOT qualified for it and then they throw me to the fucking wolves, thinking a small child can fend for itself. Newsflash! It fucking can't.

[carolingarts]

I submit to the internet since this game won't leave my brain. The following statement. Curly is a flying monkey and Jimmie Johns is the wicked witch.

Hear me out. A flying monkey is a term for an enabler to a narcissist/abuser. Someone who assists them by performing their actions, providing them outs, generally supporting their actions without seeing what they're capable of or how they're hurting people.

In the wizard of oz (the OG book version) the monkeys were goofy and stupid and they played a prank on a witch who cursed them to obey anybody wearing a golden cap. The wicked witch of the west found the cap and used the monkeys to conquer the western quadrant of Oz. When Dorothy finds the cap, she puts it on and realizes she can control the monkeys. She asks them to take her friends over the mountains and listens to where the monkeys were coming from.

When it's done, Dorothy gives Glinda the cap and she tells the monkeys they must never play pranks again before giving the monkeys the cap and setting them free.

flying monkeys in the real world aren't that easy to sway. A lot of them *know* how bad shit is in the situation and play along with it, big chunks of them might clue into it and then use it to their advantage. Other monkeys might just be so far gone and codependent they'll never pick up on it.

There's a lot I could say about therapy and dealing with flying monkeys. I don't know enough to do that though. That's work for individuals to do with their loved ones and therapists and healthy circles. that's not for this post or tumblr. Know only if that's your situation, I wish you well and know and believe you have the strength to fix it. I'm just making a point about a character.

Without going into too much detail or providing definition I might get *wrong* - the fact is that if the flying monkey is a decent person, eventually they'll be forced to face the abuser and either embrace what they're saying and just go deeper or they'll have to start their own journey of trying to grab the golden cap. The fact is that abusers choose their army either because they see kindred spirits or because they see people who are weaker than they are that they can exploit.

That's the genius of this game, just how accurate they got everything for me about a wicked witch and his flying monkey ( we don't speak jockey shorts name in this house.) because it paints everything pretty clearly. It's very clear that Curly's a decent guy - enough of a decent dude for Anya to trust with her feelings initially before she realized that she was Dorothy and he was a flying monkey. People very clearly liked him.

It actually makes you wonder just how much dirty work Curly did for beef jerkey though. How many people the guy defended the wicked witch to, how many people who he just lied to about the guy. That said, if you very clearly inspire enough trust for people to confess to you that kind of thing - I think we're leaning towards the kind of flying monkey that's considerably weaker than the wicked witch who picked him.

Which is the absolute fucking *genius* of this game. If you do the work and you're like "well I want to know more about how this works, and you look up abusers and enablers and you realize this it opens up just how things work. Even if Curly was the kind of guy who was very clearly into everything Jockey Shart was doing he falls into the codependent trap I've hitched my wagon to the wrong horse (aha. ha. ha.) and pays for it.

I can't excuse Curly's actions. No one should excuse Curly's actions. I'm also not a dev so I don't know the intentions but looking at the narrative I can speculate that - my dude was a meathead gym bro golden retriever who was probably super codependent (super super codependent.) along with naive and unwilling to admit his own failings. especially the latter. IDK based on the narrative I don't think it was motivated by his own pride - I think he was just genuinely meathead decent golden retriever gymbro who didn't deal with his super weak sense of self and identity and codependency and then y'know had a clue by four hit him like an asteroid in the face.

He was the wicked witch of the tulpar's flying monkey until he caught Just Ugly Pants out and realized that his own life was threatened because he refused to see the red flags and warning signs. And he paid for it. What a great fucking game.

Also can we talk about Anya managing to keep a man *alive* like that when he was probably fused to the fucking machine? What fucking medical school was stupid enough to let her go? She's literally keeping the man alive.

[jmagnabo92]

9-1-1 8x4 Live Reaction

Under the cut.

I've heard good things so... Let's do this!

LOL not Buck and Gerard out golfing.

"Baby's belly" - soft.

LOL - he doesn't want to be beloved - FEARED THAN LOVED. OMG.

OMG he wants BUCK to help him make the 118 tough?? OH SHIT OH SHIT. FIRING!!!

12% is better for firing???

"That's what you get for saving the boss' life - instead of being on the list, you get to make it" - SHIT.

I don't care about Bathena house-shopping.

Shit, Ortiz is running for mayor. OMG she's bringing it up with Hen and what happened with her son. FUCK - EYES AND EARS???

She wants to hold Hen responsible.

LMAO Chim correcting Gerard. What is this scene? Body cams???

OMG.

OH Shit! This poor cheerleader.

"The cheerleader is ass-backwards." - the 9-1-1 explanations are hilarious.

It's nice to see the other three rocking it since they were sidelined last episode.

Aww this kid assuming his dad wouldn't come.

Eddie's like "you know, let's just do this here - in a moving vehicle."

Loving Hen and Eddie working together and it works!!! Naturally.

ooooh he called him dad. Poor Eddie.

Wait, photos of the child with them??? OH this things with M/C backfired like I suspected. Of course Ortiz would be able to catch that & point out that it's (or would be) a problem to stay in contact with a child that was taken from you.

OOOH, is this going to work? I doubt it. But Hen's got a good speech.

Now they can't even see her!!! Awwwww :(

At least she's not being taken from Maddie and Chim and to a group home. Wouldn't be surprised if M/C got THEIR license revoked.

LOL the META on TV shows.

Aww "I don't want another house, I want my house."

LOL considering stealing another truck.

Oh no, they're going to rebuild - and Micheal sent over the old plans.

OOOOH, Bobby's not happy because he went into her house and was hoping for a shot to build something together rather than go back to HER place. More stones in their marriage?

Oh, Hen. Why would you do this? Ortiz doesn't care.

"We're all she has" - "yeah, well, my son was all I had. So she can go on too."

WHAT SHE DESERVES???

OF COURSE THEY"RE FRIENDS!!!

"Lack of leadership???"

LOL - "hey,... is my phone off?" "No, I didn't call." IDK why I find it so funny.

Oh, Hen, it's not on you. WHY DOES ORTIZ HAVE THIS AUTHORITY???

Ohhhh Buck. He went to Bobby!!

"Buck, you can't quit because your captain likes you." <3

if he did, then he'd not have stayed with the 118 so long. LOL

Bobby's back to being the 'unofficial captain', I love it. It reminds me of 'Chim's brief stint as captian'.

LOVE IT.

Bobby doesn't like the STACHE!!

Chim's like "The 118 needs you".

OOOOH Gerard doesn't wanna be there? OH RUDE CHIM.

This guy looks really hurt!! No way this was a dog.

OH SHIT. This woman is about to get hurt.

RUN LADY RUN.

IT"S A TIGER!!!!!

Awww this woman. I feel bad.

I really like these 'try and help themselves' scenes with Maddie.

AW CGI BABY TIGER.

LOL Chim with the gun - "where'd you learn to do that?" - "I have layers."

Tiger jumping up at him!!

She opened the door! OH NO!

Oh good. Down kitty!

This lady - no pets!

Oh Bobby at Hotshots. He called Gerard down there.

LOL they made the brit joke again.

The voice of god around here? LOL.

He thinks Bobby is living the dream.

Bobby telling him to quit himself. "She's been using you Vincent and laughing at you."

Oh Eddie what the fuck are you doing? It's not your business to get involved.

You're not a therapist. You don't know what their relationship is. Don't project your shit onto other people.

He showed him the body cam footage???

Gerard & Ortiz. "You're going about this all wrong."

She's a sick SOB. A JUDGE IN HER POCKET. No wonder the judge looked sad at Hen's speech.

WHY GERARD??? SHUT THE 118 DOWN???

New Fire Chief??? NO!

Wait a second - he was wearing his uniform with the body cam - was he RECORDING HER????

OMG, she's really doing this??? FUCK.

OH SHIT HE WAS!!

GERARD SAVES THE DAY. DIDN'T EXPECT IT!

LOVE BOBBY doing this and getting Gerard on their side!!

I LOVE IT!

Glad to see the kids doing much better!!

Oh shit, the dad showed up!

A family reunited!!

Love it!!

Aww, Bobby admitting it was never his house and them deciding to create their own :)

Bobby's BACK!! YAY!!

AND GERARD IS AT HOTSHOTS!! LOVE IT!!

This was great!!! :)