#not entirely sure i'm using that right tell me if i'm not

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 5)

Agatha takes you back to her house after the realization that you may have been responsible for the recent murders

Word count: 5200

Warnings: murder, purposeful thumb dislocation, violence

A/N: this got so long so fast so I had to split this chapter into 2 parts so as of right now I'm planning for 3 more parts

You can’t stop your teeth from chattering as you slide into the passenger seat of Agatha’s car. She followed you back to the motel so you could leave yours there, her headlights shining onto you the entire time, reminding you that she was right behind you.

Her lingering presence is ominous, rather than comforting. You just can’t put your finger on why.  

You’re not cold. The opposite, really. Your body is running hot, perspiration gathering on your forehead, but you’re shaking like a leaf. She turns up the heat, but you immediately reach over and turn it off. 

“I didn’t do it,” you say, but you’re not even sure if you believe it yourself. 

Agatha snorts. “Still think you’re being framed by The Witch and Lady Death?” She asks, and your heart spikes. Rio and her have been talking. Perhaps this whole time. Does she also know her wife drugged you? 

“Maybe,” you try to argue, but you know it’s just false hope at this point. How would they have gotten his blood under your nails? 

But how could you have killed him? You were completely unconscious the whole time. 

The knife from your motel found at the crime scene. Rio washing your clothes and being secretive about what was on them. And now this. 

You know you used to sleep-walk, but is sleep-murder a possibility? 

“Why did you want me to see it first?” You question, now latching onto something else. Agatha is a detective, she should’ve called the rest of the squad as well as you. 

Does she know more than she’s letting on? 

I’m just curious about something is what Rio said as she watched you succumb to sleep. 

What is going on? 

Agatha’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel and you’re momentarily distracted by remembering what they felt like inside you. Her fingers, Rio’s mouth, together? “Just wanted to see how you’d react,” she finally says, and it snaps you out of your fantasy about them. 

“Rio drugged me earlier,” you tell her, watching her face closely for any sign of recognition or confusion. 

She remains neutral. “Oh?” 

You grit your teeth. They are both so good at keeping their cards to their chests. “Neither of you think I’m being framed. You seemed pretty certain that the body from yesterday wasn’t from them, that it was someone new.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “Do you think I killed both of them?” 

You’re not capable of that. There’s no possible way you did. But you want to hear what she thinks. 

“I think,” she pauses to choose her words carefully. “I think that I believe you when you say you think you didn’t do it.” 

“I couldn’t have,” you say weakly, needing more than anything for it to be true. 

She glances at you with pity. “We all think we couldn’t. People can surprise you.” The look on her face matches the darkness outside. Is she speaking from experience? 

The drawer opens and your fingers wrap around the handle of one of the knives. 

“I didn’t do it,” you insist. 

You park by the woods and ask the first man you see for help finding your dog who ran into the trees. He’s wearing a flannel and pants, and has the most brilliant blue eyes. 

Agatha reaches over to pat your leg. 

The kitchen knife cuts his legs surprisingly well and he slumps back against the trees, blood rushing from his wounds. You get immense pleasure in watching the cerulean in his eyes fade. But it’s not enough. You want to send a message: a heart on his chest. A nod to the shape drawn on the sticky note from The Witch and Lady Death, and to their calling card. 

A whimper tears its way out of your throat and you clamp a hand over your mouth. Agatha hears it and looks over, raising an eyebrow. “You okay, superstar?” 

Your head is spinning. Are these memories real, or not real? Is your mind playing tricks on you?

The femoral arteries were too quick, too easy. You need something more. It’s only too easy to lure this man into the woods. 

“I don’t know,” you gasp out. You’re hyperventilating now. You were supposed to protect this town, stop the killers, but instead, you became one. 

Plunging the knife into his throat sent a thrill like you’ve never felt before tingling down your spine. You drag it down, grunting with the effort, but the blood pours out and you’re breathless. The red on the white snow is almost angelic. 

What have you done? 

Memories, dreams, images, whatever they are, come rushing into your brain, almost completely overwhelming you. 

You killed them. 

Were you really unconscious, or were you just erasing the memories to protect yourself? 

But you were asleep, at least at first. Did you wake up and decide to go on a murder spree? How does that even happen?

“Pull over,” you demand. Agatha scoffs but you say it again, more sternly. Your entire body feels awful and you know what’s about to come. 

Thankfully she obeys, and the second her car screeches to a halt, you’re throwing open the door and barely making it two steps away before you double-over and retch, puking your guts out. It burns your throat and your lungs ache, but it feels like you’re cleansing your body.

Agatha quickly runs over to you and holds back your hair while you continue to vomit. She rubs gentle circles on your back and then you’re finally able to stand up and breathe normally. 

“Did you know after the first one?” You say, wiping your mouth and turning to face her. 

She shrugs, but there’s an affirmative glint in her eyes. “Figured you were bound to snap eventually. Didn’t realize how drastic it would be until Rio told me about the bloody clothes you had her wash.” 

You’d throw up again if there was anything left in your stomach. She 

But she’s not done yet. 

“And then we got the call about the body with all the blood and I had a hunch. But you not knowing anything gave me a bit of pause,” she admits, swiping her thumb on your lip affectionately. “Thought you were just a really good actor. But then you said you’d been sleeping for the past few hours, so I wondered.”

You cough, still tasting acid. Things still aren’t adding up. She fucked you after thinking you murdered someone? “Why didn’t you turn me in?” Not complaining exactly, but why have they been holding onto this? “Is that why Rio drugged me? She wanted to see if…I’d what? Murder someone else?” 

Agatha tilts her head back and forth, like she’s partly agreeing, and you back up from her, the gears in your brain turning. She gives you a look as if to say Really? and starts advancing towards you. You put your hands out to stop her and flinch, and she freezes. 

“If you’re feeling better, get back in the car,” she orders, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. She takes one more step and stops an inch away from you, eyebrow raised like she’s anticipating your next move, and you gulp before obeying. “Good girl,” she says in a low voice, closing the door on you, and you hate the way your body betrays you. 

She gets into the driver’s seat and locks the doors and it makes your heart lurch. Why do you feel so unsafe right now? 

The key gets turned in the ignition but the car won’t start. “Fuck,” Agatha swears, turning it again and again. Panic starts to climb and settle into every crack and crevice in your body; what if you have to spend the night with Agatha on the side of the road? 

What if you fall asleep and accidentally kill her? 

Is that something you do now? Can you just never sleep for the rest of your life? 

The engine finally clicks and turns on, just taking a bit longer in the snow. But Agatha is almost out of gas, so she pulls into the next gas station she finds on the way to her house. 

“Have you eaten?” She asks gruffly, something seemingly changed in the air between you. 

The moment she brings up food, your stomach grumbles. You can’t remember the last time you ate. Tony would kill you, if you had heard from him at all. It’s weird he hasn’t called you back yet. Unfortunately, you have been sleeping though. You’re not sure if he would be proud. 

Agatha gets out of the car and slams the door and you quickly scramble out too. “We’ll go get you something to eat after I’m done filling up.” 

“I can just run in now,” you offer, desperately needing a moment to yourself. You can’t breathe next to Agatha right now. 

She scoffs and presses the pump into her car. “You’re a mess, superstar. I can’t risk you confessing to her about what you’ve done, or worse.” 

You bite back a sarcastic comment, still weary of her mood shift, and you tap your foot until the pump stops. She follows you into the station, watching carefully as you pick up a slice of pizza from the hot food area. You snag a drink and walk to the cash register, where a woman is snapping her gum. 

“Hi,” you say politely, putting your stuff down. Agatha’s hot breath is on your neck. “Oh, and can I get these too?” You quickly slap down a container of cinnamon mints. 

She looks you up and down, and winks. “On the house,” she says and Agatha steps even closer to you. The cashier’s eyes flicker to her. “Anything for your mom?” 

Agatha practically growls behind you and yanks your head back by your hair so she’s able to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. You try to pull away in shock, but she holds you there and slides her tongue into your mouth. You can still taste the little flap of skin from where you bit her when she fucked you. 

After she’s sufficiently stolen all the air from your lungs, she stops and grabs your pizza and drink from the counter. “Come, pet,” she says in a low voice that makes you hotly tingle all over and you make brief eye contact with the cashier, who looks severely taken aback. You wonder if you look as flushed as you feel. 

“Sorry about that,” you say sheepishly, face hot, and slap a ten dollar bill on the counter, scampering after Agatha. “What the fuck was that?” You call after her, and she whirls around, face contorted into something scary.

“Get. In. The. Car,” she demands, seething, anger radiating off her in waves and almost knocking you back. 

There’s silence the rest of the way to her house as you eat your pizza. It’s a cute two-story house, hedges trimmed neatly out front, and another car in the driveway. 

Your heart begins to race at the thought of seeing Rio again, at the thought of dealing with them together. 

What are you doing here? Are they going to blackmail you? What could they want from you? 

You trail Agatha to the front door and then into the kitchen, where Rio is trimming a bouquet of flowers in a vase. Yellow, blue, red, and a flash of purple. 

Brows furrowing, you try to get a closer look but Rio steps to the side, unknowingly blocking your view. 

“Hey, Aggie,” she says, her back still to you. The glimpse into domesticity and the nicknames makes you feel a longing pang inside you. 

In the past, girls had been too put off by your line of work, by your fascination with female serial killers, even by the scar on your stomach. You just wanted someone that could accept every part of you. 

Agatha walks over, leaving you standing awkwardly in the entrance, and presses a kiss to Rio’s cheek, murmuring something in her ear. Rio’s body stiffens and she turns around, a wide grin stretching over her face when she sees you. 

“Welcome, doll,” she says and you fight the urge to run away. She motions to a fresh batch of cookies cooling on the stove. “Want one?” 

You don’t budge. “Did you poison them too?” 

Rio’s head tosses back with a laugh and Agatha smirks bemusedly. “Touché,” Rio says, grabs one, and chomps on it. She brushes her hands free on the crumbs once she’s done and holds them up to show you that she didn’t lace them. 

“What am I doing here?” You ask, wanting to cut to the chase. There’s some ulterior motive, one you just don’t know of yet. 

Both of them beckon you to follow them into the living room. They sit on the couch and you sit in the chair facing them. 

“‘What am I doing here?’” Agatha mocks in a deep voice and you roll your eyes. 

Rio takes all of you in, eyes flicking up and down your body several times. “Such a trivial question. Why don’t you ask something better than that?”

You think about it for a moment. What do you really want to know? “Did I kill those men?” 

“Boring. Ask something you don’t already know the answer to,” Rio criticizes and your cheeks burn. 

“Why did I?” It comes out quieter than you intended, your voice breaking. 

The two of them finally look interested. “Why do you think?” Rio asks, ever the therapist. 

“I…don’t know,” you say lamely.

Agatha snorts. “Come on, superstar, we know you’re smarter than that. Use that brilliant brain of yours.”

Knife from the drawer. Slicing through fabric to cut the arteries. Hearing a squelching sound when you plunge it into the chin. 

Blood.

More blood. 

A brilliant blaze of fire erupts. 

You jolt. Fire? “I think…” You trail off, feeling shaken by the new revelation. Is the fire something that happened in the past, or something that’s about to come? 

“Yeah?” Agatha whispers, leaning forward. 

You try to search your head for the answer. “I think I wanted to know what it felt like,” you say slowly, testing the words on your tongue, still not completely sure if they’re right. 

You’re remembering more of the murders, remembering being in a trance-like haze when you woke up, getting into your car, coming back to the room after, stripping naked from the bloodstained clothes and scrubbing your skin in the shower until it stung. And then laying back down. 

Some sort of psychosis? Or just your unconscious mind fulfilling one of your darkest fantasies? 

Rio’s breath hitches. “And? How did it feel?” 

“It felt…powerful,” you say, and you know what the feeling in the woods with Agatha was now. It was the feeling of taking in your own work, seeing what you had done, somehow remembering the feeling even when you didn’t remember doing it. 

Agatha licks her lips, her eyes dark. “Holding their life in your hands, it’s a sensation like no other. That control makes you feel like a god, doesn’t it?” 

The way she phrases it sounds like she knows how it feels. How could she? 

Can you brush it off to her being a detective? Surely she’s had to make a decision like that once in her career, but there’s a nagging in the back of your mind that is sounding alarm bells. 

You cautiously look back and forth between them, between their faces with an indescribable hunger, and things start to come together. 

The Witch and Lady Death. 

Lovers, two brunettes, one thinner and taller, the other shorter and fuller. Just like Rio and Agatha.

Both Agatha and Rio were so convinced that there was a different killer. 

Both Agatha and Rio knew that you killed someone, even before you did, yet neither of them made any effort to get you in trouble. 

If anything, they pushed you to do it again. 

Rio said she wasn’t The Witch, but you hadn’t asked if she was Lady Death. 

Which means…

Agatha is The Witch. Rio is Lady Death. And you’re in their home, with both of them.

It’s ingenious though, really. Being the lead detective on a case trying to catch yourself, able to throw a wrench into any leads that the squad may happen to get. 

That must be why she was so nitpicky with all your theories. She knew all the right details the entire time.

Although, it never really seemed like she was shooting you down, it was almost like she was guiding you. 

Did she want you to catch them?

And Rio, being your therapist to find out more about you, get inside your head and understand how the profiler on their case thinks. 

You’d almost be impressed if you weren’t scared for your life right now. 

The only question is: why? 

Why murder all those people? Why break into your motel room and leave you all that stuff? Why help you in catching them, if that’s truly what they’ve been doing? 

Why not just kill you already? Unless that’s what they’re planning on doing tonight. 

“Can I, uh, use your bathroom?” You ask, praying they can’t hear how fast your heart is beating. 

They’re both regarding you with careful looks. “Second door on the left,” Agatha says, pointing down a hallway. You nervously smile and try to walk normally out of sight. 

Just make it to the bathroom, you chant. Then you can text Tony, text the police chief, text anybody. If you can keep up the pretenses, you might be able to hang on until reinforcements come. 

But as you’re walking by the first room on the left, you see that the door is ajar ever the slightest. 

You shouldn’t. You should go to the bathroom and get help. You absolutely should not open this door. 

It creaks as you push it open and you stop breathing, waiting to hear footsteps or one of them asking if you’re okay. 

Nothing. 

The door is open just wide enough for you to slip in now, and you can’t help the loud gasp that escapes your mouth. 

Purple azaleas are in a vase on the table, along with vials upon vials. Information about every single person in Westview on one wall, red circles highlighting either victims or a list. 

But what’s most startling is the shrine they have for you on the big wall. Pictures of you, case files, every piece of information accessible that concerns you is plastered there. 

They know exactly who you are. They’ve known. 

Fighting the nausea that climbs into your throat, you step closer. There’s something that draws your attention in the bottom left area, a medical record with your name on it from Salem, Massachusetts almost fifteen years ago. You don’t remember ever being in the hospital when you lived there. 

You bend down to see what it says and 

Snow. 

The frozen creek. 

Laughter and red birds when you step on a stick. 

The person whirls around, long dark hair flipping with the momentum, blue eyes cutting through the darkness. 

Fire. Sparks fly and land at your feet, hissing in the snow. 

“Well, well, well,” a voice says behind you and you spin so fast you almost fall over. Agatha and Rio are standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “Guess the secret’s out.”

But you don’t care about that. 

Because the woman from your memory has a name now. 

“It was you,” you accuse, jabbing a finger towards Agatha. The face in the flashes was a bit younger, but you’d know her anywhere now. 

A cold feeling sinks into you when she bares her teeth in a smile. “I see my wife’s techniques have been efficient.” 

Your head starts to pound. “How…?” 

“Why don’t we go back into the living room and we can talk about this?” Rio suggests gently. 

“So you can kill me?” You spit, completely disoriented. How did you know Agatha fifteen years ago? Why didn’t you remember? 

What did she do to you? 

Agatha scoffs. “Really, you think if we wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be dead already? Honey, we could’ve had your heart the instant you stepped into town.” 

Your hand grabbles at your belt, trying to grab onto the gun that isn’t there. 

Fuck. 

You ran out of your room in such a hurry earlier that you forgot to grab it. 

“So what do you want from me?” You ask, trying to sound even the slightest bit braver than you feel. You fail. 

“We want you to join us,” Rio says, being uncharacteristically straight forward. “We see you and what you’re capable of. We’ve known it. We want you, all of you.” 

You shake your head. “No, absolutely fucking not. You two are crazy. I don’t know how you know me, or what happened in the woods all those years ago, but I would rather die than kill more people with you.” 

They both sigh like they were afraid you’d say that. They start to walk over to you and you feel prey being stalked, being hunted. 

“What are you–” 

Agatha shushes you. “You’re just confused, superstar. But don’t worry. We’ll give you some time to think about it.” 

And then they grab you and drag you kicking and screaming upstairs into their bedroom. 

This is it. This is how you’re going to die. 

“Wait, wait!” You scream as they throw you onto their bed. “I’ll do it.” You can pretend, you can make them think you want it until you can get out. 

Rio bends over and grabs your chin, scanning your teary eyes. “Oh, doll, you’re an FBI profiler and you’re still such a bad liar,” she tuts, roughly pushing your face away. 

Your body goes numb while they stretch your arms out and pull handcuffs – real handcuffs – from the nightstands and cuff you to the bedposts. 

Agatha smirks and waves the key in front of your face and you snap at it with your teeth. She chuckles darkly and puts it on the nightstand, just out of reach. 

“We’ll be back later, pet,” she says. “We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them, and then The Witch and Lady Death are going to strike again.” 

Rio cackles and then picks up the bottom half of her skeleton mask and holds it to her face, widening her eyes at you. You strain against the handcuffs until they sting your wrist but you don’t stop struggling as they walk out of the room and close the door behind them. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You are absolutely reeling. You met Agatha when you were ten years old. Something happened, something with fire? And the medical file from then, is that related? 

It can’t be a coincidence that you’re here now, working on a case in which she’s a killer. 

What happened that made you want to think like a killer? It’s the question that Rio asked when you first met her, that she swore she didn’t but now you think she was just fucking with you. 

You didn’t know the reason, couldn’t remember it at the time, but that was what made you start having these flashes of repressed memories. 

Is Agatha the reason? 

Did you see her kill someone at ten years old, but then your brain blocked it out because it was too traumatic? And then you spent the rest of your life determined to figure out what made her do that? 

It seems to make sense. 

It still doesn’t answer the real question as to what they want with you, and why they went through all this trouble. 

But you’re not going to find anything else tied up in their bed. 

The Basic Field Training Course at Quantico taught you several important things, like how to fire a gun and how to read a person’s posture and how to solve a case. But perhaps the most valuable lesson to you now was learned from a classmate, who taught you how to dislocate your thumb. 

Jimmy Woo had dislocated his thumb twice during lacrosse in high school so he could now do it whenever he wanted. It still hurt obviously, but the damage was less serious, it was easier to dislocate, and it was much easier to pop back in. 

All it took for him to teach you was a six pack of beer. You didn’t know exactly why you were so set on being able to, but you couldn’t be happier now. 

You remember the first time you did it. It had taken four shots of vodka to get your courage up before bending it back on a table. The ligaments had strained, not wanting to give, but through sweat and tears, you had persisted. 

Jimmy immediately took you to the clinic to get it wrapped up and you told them you had done it while throwing a ball with Jimmy. 

You’d only done it a few more times, but it got to the point where you could do it with minimal crying and could relocate it by yourself. 

Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you duck your chin down to grab ahold of your sweater between your teeth to have something to bite down before positioning your left thumb against the bedpost. Better to do it with your non-dominant hand, Jimmy always said. 

You can almost hear him encouraging you as tears spill down your cheeks and your whimpers are muffled. 

Pressing harder, a slight sheen of perspiration breaks out on your head. Fuck, you’d forgotten how much it hurts. 

Finally, finally, there’s the desired pop and pain floods up your hand. It almost entirely overwhelms you and 

Snow. 

Frozen creek. 

The woman turns toward you and looks surprised to see someone else in the woods with her. 

She waves to you and you’re pulled forward by an invisible string. When you get closer to where she’s partially hidden by shadows, you see she’s not alone. 

A younger woman with pale skin, dark hair, and wide hazel eyes. 

But there’s another woman too. 

The throbbing in your thumb pulls you out of the flashback. 

Rio.

Rio was there, too. You’ve met both Agatha and Rio before.

But you don’t know who the other woman is; you didn’t even get a good look at her. 

Focus on that later, you tell yourself, whining as you gingerly pull your hand out of the cuff. You lean over and snatch the key off the nightstand and quickly unlock the other cuff. It hurts like hell to use your dislocated thumb to turn the key, but you don’t know how else you’d use it. You take another slow, deep breath before popping that thumb back in. 

After moving it around and massaging it to get the blood flowing back in, you scramble off the bed and run downstairs. 

You need to go back to your motel room and get your gun, not even bothering to look and see if they have any, but first you need to go back into their room downstairs and see if there’s any hints about where they might be going. 

It appears that all the photos that have red circles on them are past victims, so you have absolutely no idea where they might be. 

You’re about to leave the room and go back to the motel when you remember the medical file from Massachusetts. It looks like they have pictures of a copy; how would they even get that? 

But you bend down to read it and a searing pain splits through your forehead. It hurts so bad it forces your eyes shut and you’re only able to comprehend a few words and phrases. 

Hypothermia…18 hours in the snow. 

Pneumonia. 

Head-induced trauma caused retrograde/post-traumatic amnesia. 

The pain in your head brings you to your knees as you try to make sense of the record. You remember learning about types of amnesia in your psych classes, and retrograde means you can’t remember things that happened before the accident. 

Is that why there’s a block? Or is it because of something you saw in the woods? 

Nothing is adding up. 

Why didn’t your parents ever tell you about this? Is this the reason you left Salem so quickly? 

The throbbing in your head has leveled down to a dull ache and you’re able to stand up. This is all connected somehow, you just don’t know how. 

What you do know is that you need to find them and stop them. 

You dig around the drawers in the kitchen to find a set of keys to Rio’s car, you’re guessing, and you’re peeling out of their driveway, not even caring about the speed limits. You blow through stop signs and red lights, but it’s late enough that no one else is on the road. 

Throwing the car into park once you get back to the motel, you shoulder open the door to your room and come to a halt. 

It’s the smell that hits you first. 

A sickly sweet honeysuckle scent wafts into your nose and you almost retch. Purple azaleas litter the floor in a path from the front door to the bedroom door, candles lit on both sides like a romantic rendezvous. 

They were already here. How could they have known you’d come back? Are they in the other room? 

Heart pounding, you gulp before reaching for your gun on the table and cautiously stepping toward the bedroom. You close your eyes and say a little prayer that you’re not about to be killed, and you kick it open. 

There’s more azaleas, and enough candles to perform a ritual. Your gaze scans the room, breaths getting shorter and shallower. 

And then you see the bed and your hands clamp over your mouth in order to smother the cry that comes out involuntarily. 

It’s the woman from the gas station, sprawled out like a starfish, completely naked from the waist up. There’s a lace from one of your pairs of shoes wrapped tightly around her neck, face tinted blue. 

Your body violently shakes as you walk over to her and you see her chest. 

The letter “O” is carved around her right breast. The letter “U” around her left. “R” is carved into the right side of her stomach, and “S” into the left. 

OURS. 

We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them. 

Ignoring the heat running through your body, you spot a notecard clenched in her hand and you wrench it out. 

On one side, it says: Sorry, baby. Xoxo. On the other side, there’s an address. 

You know it’s a trap, like this right here was, and like everything else may have been, but what choice do you have? 

Your fingers tighten on your gun and you get back into Rio’s car, punching the location into your phone. 

This ends tonight. 

[wilhelminyard]

compilation of nice/sweet things the foxes said to neil because even though they're a bunch of assholes who'll insult anyone in their vicinity they all just love him so damn much (part 1) :

WYMACK :

"if your parents are a problem for you, we'll move you to south carolina early."

"foxes are foxes for a reason and they know we wouldn't sign you if you didn't qualify. that doesn't mean they know specifics. it's not my place to ask and I'm sure as hell not going to tell them."

"it's about second chances, neil. second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you."

"I have never, ever hit someone without provocation and I'm sure as hell not going to start with you. you hear me?"

"I'll take care of this. you take care of you."

"do you have any idea what could have happened to you between here and there? what were you thinking? you should have called me"

"any of us would have come and gotten you"

"it's not your job to take care of yourself anymore. it's your job to play, and mine and abby's job to look after you."

ANDREW :

"oh you might actually turn out to be interesting"

"you be something. kevin says you'll be a champion. four years and you'll go pro. five years and you'll be court."

"curious that a man with so much potential, who has so much fun, who could 'be something' wouldn't want any of it"

"a liar who practices occasional honesty. clever."

"are you going to tell kevin?" "don't ask me stupid questions"

"oh neil, as unpredictable as he is unreal"

"what would it take to make you stay?"

"I'll stand between you and the moriyamas"

"you gave your game to kevin. give your back to me."

KEVIN :

"neil is exactly what the foxes need right now. his inexperience is inconsequential. we went through a hundred files looking for a striker for this year, but neil is the only one we approached. we knew as soon as we saw him we needed to sign him. we're just lucky we got there before anyone else did"

"our primary concern was keeping neil safe"

"*to riko* leave him alone."

MATT :

"are you bleeding anywhere?"

"coach says [neil's] got potential. andrew says you're fast. [...] andrew bets you can outrun everyone on this team."

"seriously are you okay?"

"I'll owe you one" "you won't owe me anything"

"you be careful, okay?"

"I'm fine" "you say that a lot. I'm starting to think you don't know what it means."

"coach says stupid but I say you have balls of steel"

NICKY :

"neil, you clean up good"

"andrew is keeping you, same as he kept kevin. it means you're part of the family now. [...] family means something different with us because it has to. it's not about blood. it's not even about who we like. it's about who andrew's willing to protect."

"that makes you invaluable to andrew"

"you're one of us, which means we'll never push you further than you're willing to go"

DAN :

"are you okay?"

"coach said you hitchhiked your way back here. I'd yell at you for being stupid but coach said he handled that already"

"we didn't let him [in]. he didn't make it further than the front door."

"neil? you don't have to do this, you know"

ALLISON :

"looking fancy"

SETH :

"maybe you're not as stupid as I thought"

AARON :

(I know it surprised me too but it's probably the only compliment he gives neil throughout the entire series and they literally just met at that point)

"at least you're not going to completely drag us down. it'll take most the season to get you where we need you to be but I can see why kevin picked you"

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

So for new year cards...

Jack SSR is actually so cool; I like it. Malleus SSR is beautiful and all, but he really reminds me of a bride in forced marriage tropes. 😭

[Referencing the Twst JP Jan 2025 schedule!]

Finally, some good fucking food for Jack stans 😭 Port Fest feels like so long ago… fbjssbdjjs I feel like I can’t appreciate his design as much as others can. I’m not into the skintight undershirt on a character as buff as Jack is, and I'm confused as to why his gloves are... like that??? But!! I do like his fluffly little boa thing and how enthusiastic his pose is. You can tell he’s really putting his all into the New Year Sale~!

Malleus got another new hairstyle (any hairstyle that's different than his default one is a win in my book www)!! I think it's a well-liked look among his fans; I already saw so many people commenting that he looks like a love interest in a reborn as a villainess isekai or something to that effect.

I also saw some chatter around the thin fabric that Malleus seems to have over himself. A common joke is that it's a "wedding veil", but given the traditional Japanese clothes everyone is wearing for the new year, it's more likely also a Japanese article of clothing. A friend theorized that it's a 被衣 (kazuki/katsugi), a garment worn over the head that fully covers the body. These are mostly donned by noblewomen to cover their faces when they go out--and that sort of makes sense, given that Malleus himself is a noble. How demure and mindful... I thought the veil could also be a frost blanket (you know, to protect the budding flowers from the cold)?? But I'm not entirely sure right now; maybe the vignettes will give us more context!

A friend and I were speculating as to what flowers might be featured in the initial card art and the conclusion we came to was ume (plum) blossoms. The color and shape are similar, and they're a classic flower in winter anime. Something else I noticed was that the same flowers seem to appear in Sebek's New Year Attire from two years ago! If you compare Malleus and Sebek, you'll notice that the lighting is much warmer in Sebek's too. In fact, all previous SSR cards are pretty much like that, save for maybe Trey but at least Trey is shown to be in front of the shop. It really makes Malleus's card "stick out", since he's the only one that appears to be in a lonely and isolated location, just him and the plum blossoms.

On the subject of clothing worn by Japanese women! The same friend and I talked about Jamil's New Year Attire too. (Figured I'd throw this in here since I'm already talking about the other three 2025 New Year boys. Don't wanna leave him out, y'know??)

You can see that he has his hood up in the initial card artwork; my friend joked that Jamil's a newlywed. Why? Brides that choose to dress traditionally for their wedding days wear a wide white headdress/hood called a 角隠し (tsunokakushi), which covers an elaborate hairstyle like Jamils'/j. The "tsuno" (horns, as I'm sure you're all familiar with) in the name refers to the "horns of jealousy"; the tsunokakushi is meant to blanket the jealousy so she can enter her new married life at peace.

Of course, the shape, color, and context of the tsunokakushi is very different than what Jamil's got going on and the Twst team most likely did not intend for this comparison to be drawn, but I thought that this was interesting to share ^^ (*feeds Jamuil yumes this delulu cultural trivia*)

Aaaand let's close out with Floyd! The answer to his question is simple, actually. To put one's arm inside the kimono is just a very casual or relaxed way to pose. It suits Floyd and his attitude, doesn't it?

[komelliko]

manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader

summary: After Sunday spoiled your 'not-date' with Aventurine, he feels he still has to warn you about some things. wc: 1.6k - this is nsfw! cw for dubcon! fondling, masturbation, sexual fantasy a/n: The guillemets «» are still used to indicate Sunday's telepathy!

part 5 / part 6 (nsfw) --- You insisted that Aventurine not walk you back home—It was hard to articulate one sole reason why. Sunday's confrontation was a large factor, though. It didn't feel right to throw him into more trouble like that—let him get the sweep, as he put it. You could brave the streets back to your apartment by yourself without much hassle, anyways. Very little of Golden Hour was left unlit, after all. You turn to look behind you. The feeling of still being watched crawls up your back like a creeping fungus, a sense of unease clinging to your spine all the way until it reaches your throat. But in the cacophony in golden light and bustling figures, you can't make anything out. You know who it is that's following you. You just pretend he's not there, and simply press on.

« But something tells you that you have to take another route. » You're not sure why...? So you stop, you steady yourself, and you try to figure out where you are and how long it is until you're on Glaux Avenue. « Something tells you that you have to walk behind the food truck and into the passageway between that jewelry store and that automobile dealer. » Hesitant, you trust the strange feeling, slipping behind the truck and into a dark passageway, two impenetrable walls of brick squeezing the thin line of the alley together, bins of waste and discarded belongings littering both sides. You don't understand what makes you think this will be a shortcut to Glaux Avenue. 

« But something tells you that if you just take a few more steps, just barely enough to no longer be in the light, just a few more, one more step... » You get the notion that someone familiar is behind you. You freeze in place, recognizing the exact sound of the footsteps calmly approaching you in great clarity. You turn a quarter of the way around, not yet enough to meet his eyes before— Sunday clasps a hand over your face. You feel your lips smushed under his palm, your front teeth against the cool cotton fabric of his white glove. "Listen to me for a moment," he commands. "Don't speak." You stay silent, eyes locked on the wall in front of you. You assume you'd be terrified out of your mind if you had it within yourself to be that way. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the surprise. Besides, you were sure making a fuss wouldn't do anything good. "No matter how I or any member of The Family may act around that man in public, I cannot stress to you how little you should trust him. From this moment forward, do not answer any questions he asks, do not accept anything he offers you, and by Xipe, do not ever let me find you fraternizing with him ever again." Oh. You swear you could almost break out laughing. This- This wasn't Sunday. Sunday had been unusual at times, sure, but it was all innocent (if uncomfortable) behavior. It's almost comical, you assure yourself, to hear such harsh threats come out of his mouth! That explains why you can barely believe what he's saying, after all. Nothing to do with being terrified of your employer—nothing of the sort. "...Awlrigh...?" "Are you not taking me seriously, [Y/N]?" You take in a sharp breath, even if it's stunted by Sunday's hand in your face. Frantically, you shake your head no. "Good. I'm glad you have returned to being reasonable." His hand lifts off your mouth, an awkward thread of saliva connecting your bottom lip to the damp stain of breath on the palm of his glove. Sunday closes his hand, almost as if he's tenderly holding the spot on his glove for safe keeping, before bringing it down to hold on to your waist. "[Y/N], you are one of the most important people in the entire Family. What you decide to do with your time impacts not just you, but the entirely of Penacony. Do you remember what I said about upholding our reputations?" "Yes, sir." "I meant every word of it." Both of his hands are now holding your sides, bringing you in to press your back up against him. "You must understand what the good people of Penacony would think of me if I let my dear assistant run off with a member of the IPC." Sunday takes in another breath as if he means to say more, but stops himself. You can almost feel his composure slip for a moment, and as you turn your head back to see what the matter is, you notice him looking around warily—Checking for witnesses. His right hand slowly and hesitantly ascends, wrapping his fingers around your breast, creasing the cloth of your blazer underneath his grip. Sunday barely stifles a groan, his other hand squeezing your side fiercely as if to steady himself. "I w- I would not consider myself a vengeful man, [Y/N]," he stammers, lightheaded with his own desire as he fondles you. "Nor would I consider myself a man who is jealous beyond reasonable means. It is not covetous nor avaricious merely to insist upon what is already mine." His last sentence is tugged almost into a hoarse cry, and he bites his tongue to suppress another groan.

Though he would be remiss to admit it to you at a time like this, Sunday understands what he is doing is unconscionable, and he hated himself for it. But there is simply no other recourse. In matters of temptation, his behavior only seems sinful on the imperfect surface. For temptation is the fledgling form of greed, of gluttony and corruption, but the source of that which drove him to take you in his hands and tortured him night after night with thoughts of defiling you was instead responsibility.

Sunday has an obligation to make his possession of you known to himself, to you, and most importantly, to others. Others like that Avgin scum who dared to try and steal you from him behind his back. More were bound to attempt similar foolish things if Sunday did not reassert his authority with proper haste. You feel Sunday's breath curl down the back of your neck as he moves your hair to one shoulder. He plants a kiss on the soft flesh of your neck, right where it meets the edge of your jaw, and you shudder at the feelings of his lips against your skin. "If I can't trust you to make wise choices with your time off, I might not be able to give you time off at all," Sunday whispers lowly in your ear, his tone dreadfully serious. "We don't want to worry about you getting in trouble, do we?" He pauses for a moment, before adding "I certainly don't." And just as his hands remove themselves from your body, you turn around and Sunday has vanished. ... ... ... ...

Sunday is able to think about little else once he reaches his quarters, and he shuts his door emphatically the moment he enters.

To alleviate his own misdeeds, it is imperative that he approach it in an orderly fashion. Sunday takes off his coat properly and hangs it on the third spoke of his coat rack. With his dorsal wings free to open, Sunday takes off his vest one arm at a time, folding it neatly and setting it on his dresser. Sunday rolls up the bottom hem of his shirt until it reaches his torso, then pulls the neck over his head, then extends his arms out to pull it off his body entirely—The shirt then folded neatly as well, and set next to the folded vest. As one last precaution, Sunday scans his quarters. Not a blind has been left undrawn, nor a door left cracked open, nor an object out of its usual place. Sunday listens to the sound of his own breathing for a moment, as it is his only company: It is labored, heavy with desperation, tortured with knowledge of Sunday's unfulfilled responsibilities. Sunday sits himself on the side of his bed, facing away from the door, and undoes his belt. Xipe will forgive him. Xipe will forgive him. That which torments him is much more than wanton impulse. The infraction of him spitting in his own palm and satisfying his own carnal urges is infinitesimal to the weight of Penacony's corruption. With no person to confess to but himself, Bronze Melodia of Xipe, Sunday has full authority to absolve himself of guilt. For a cause like his, his actions are no transgression. With the stories he's listened to, Sunday knows the habits of lesser men, and lesser men do worse daily without even a second thought. Sunday brings his other hand up to massage his face, his head rolling back from the feeling of his own hand stroking him. In due time, it would be your hand, soft and gentle and perfumed and perfect in ways he could barely fathom, the rhythm of your delicate fingers brushing against his smoldering-hot skin euphoric beyond his wildest imagination. Sunday falls back onto his own bed, one foot lifting to dig its heel into the mattress as his movements grow more fervid at the thought of your face, your voice, the kind look in your eyes. Nothing short of taking you entirely could satiate him, and he knew it; There would be no other way to fulfill his responsibilities towards you. He bites his tongue, holding back grunts a more sinful man would make carelessly, and dares not to buck his hips into his own hand like some sort of uncouth aberrant. Still, even as his tongue is held, your name is repeated in his thoughts like a desperate prayer. With the invocation of your name, he begs for mercy from this torture. With your name, he begs for release. [Y/N]. [Y/N]. [Y/N].

--- a/n: tumblr was fighting with me this whole fucking time and I finally figured out it was because of it that third sunday mind control sentence and for the life of me I could not tell you what was so bad about it so prevent me from posting this feedback is always appreciated! tag list: @j1yu425 @crepezinhos @i-am-tiredd @8x9d @ruruize @herrscherofprocrastination

[squeakadeeks]

merry christmas my gift to you is telling a terrible tale since I think enough time has passed (ie over a decade) that i can tell you this without exploding.

when i was like 12 and starting out with art, i was so excited to open commissions just like a ✨real artist✨ and it being deviantart in the 2010's, within about a month i got someone asking for furry inflation fetish art. being a kid and having no sex ed, let alone the insanely specific sex ed that would be needed for me to understand what that is, i didnt flag it as inappropriate. I thought it would just be a "cool anatomy exercise like ✨real✨ artists do!" i was so ready and i took it on for 200 llamabucks or w/e the onsite currency was at the time. i did it, i drew it, whatever. well sure enough after posting it i quickly learned what furry inflation art actually was and i was mortified. being in like.....7th grade i was still terrified of sex and i was worried about my parents finding out so i took the entire sketchbook and buried it under my mattress. I lived in fear for months afterwards and felt like i deserved to be shot for falling for it and making something sinful.

the proceeding events happen in a confusing haze because my mother is an utterly puzzling woman so some suspension of disbelief is required but believe me when i say. i wish this was apocryphal. I dont know how or why, but some how some way my mom not only finds the sketchbook under my mattress, goes through the entire thing, finds the one singular offending sketch, then in a concerning mystery i will invest not a single iota of effort to solve due to the implications, immediately clocked that it was sexual fetish art. the one saving grace of a spherical wolf being niche enough that people wouldnt understand the dark deed i had done was out the window. She rips the page out, goes downstairs and parades it to the rest of the family like: "oh my god! look what ____ drew! lets all look at this! lets all look at this right now and laugh at it!" even with just this, i'm full on bursting into heavy hiccuping tears. as a kid this was the ultimate nightmare. you did something bad, you did something really bad, and your primary authority figure not only found it, but is now making sure everyone else you care about also knows the horrible shameful thing you did. except. there was something i couldnt have fathomed at the time that was about to get much, much worse.

my grandfather was dying of parkinson's at the time. when my mother took the sketch and displayed it to everyone like an auctioneer with a high ticket item, i ran out of the room sobbing so i never saw what happened to the blue inflated wolf with punk bangs. Well we all went to visit grandpa. we're all sitting around grandpa who used to be a famous local artist and was a big inspiration to me as a kid. and my mom goes "hey. ____ also wants to be an artist. Do you want to see what they drew?" and you'll never fucking guess what she pulls out of her pocket. hes barely able to turn and look over only to see that goddamn motherfucking wolf again. unlike before where i was crying so hard i couldn't breathe i remember being dead silent and stone still in shock. i dont think i blinked for 5 minutes but when i got up i threw up in the bathroom lol. I cant remember how but this time i did actually get the sketch back and i tore it to pieces and buried it in the yard. it haunted me for YEARS

but anyway now i have a memory of my mother showing my dying grandfather furry inflation art that i accidentally made when i was in middle school because i wanted a rainbow llama badge on deviantart.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Say, if someone were to take a long time (more than months) before speaking up about racism, are they wrong for not immediately addressing it and instead letting the hurt fester? The first time it happened I was questioning my own perception, and by the time I became sure, it feels like it's too late (and it's also been very long after the last time I saw it happen too), and I feel like I also played a part in not immediately speaking up because of fear of the consequences. None of the racism were big enough, but if I were to list every instance then wouldn't it look like I'm being petty and trying to smear campaign someone? Or immature for being avoidant and not communicating my hurt immediately?

I'm going to approach this from an antiblackness perspective, since that's what I talk about here.

I think it depends on a couple of factors. Are you Black? If so, then no, it's not wrong to feel hurt about it no matter how long ago it happened. What you experienced was wrong, and it'll always be wrong. Plus, not wanting to speak up because you know it'll just be a threat to you is a common reason why Black people usually don't speak up about racism. Because yeah, you'll get dogpiled and gaslit and abused when you dare suggest someone was *gasp* bigoted toward you and needs to apologize! There's no statute of limitations on racism, and we shouldn't have to create an entire case to prove ourselves the way we do. That said, if this is a stranger, you will probably not be able to approach on the offensive because you let the time pass. So unless you have receipts, really all you can do is block them and move on with your life, or tell them privately "hey, this thing you said/did wasn't okay. I didn't say anything before because I wasn't sure how you'd take it, but I have not felt as safe around you since then, and I felt you needed to know" (and then probably block them). And you can't expect them to take it well- all you can do is say something, if you choose to at all. And if they take it that poorly, now you have the ability to tell others "yeah, this person did not take hearing about their bigotry well, and is not safe for Black people to be around". Because I would want to know if who I'm sharing from hates me.

If you are not Black, then I want you to consider (using your words) why the racism wasn't "big" enough, especially given that it wasn't dangerous towards you. What do you need to see in order to speak up? And by allowing it to get that large, recognize that you helped create a space where that behavior was safe and acceptable by saying nothing when all the "small" racism was occurring! That said, people are going to take it as petty regardless of your intent, because that's how racism is treated both here and outside the internet. It may be demeaned, treated as a smear campaign, because people think calling out racism is worse than being racist. So it really depends on how much you're willing to stand on it. You saw all these things happen, you have the receipts, you know you're in the right- are you willing to speak up? Are you willing to accept what may happen, or are you more worried about your own comfort? Maybe you'll allow Black people who saw all that racism feel heard and valid, so they can speak up too. Maybe you'll start a conversation that needs to be had. Maybe you'll be a step towards cracking that environment where this racism was acceptable, or worse case scenario, you'll recognize that this isn't a place you want to be if racism is treated so lightly. Those are hard decisions!

Sorry that this probably didn't make you feel better, but it's not a light topic.

[fromkenari]

@alliwantforchristmasislou

I don't talk about my identity a lot because I live in a town in the 2/3rds of the state that is red despite it being a blue state. I'm not accepted, nor is it really safe for me open about it beyond my friends, and the sad thing is I have only one other friend in this town with the same pronouns as me and my friends, all of whom are queer positive and a bunch of whom are queer themselves don't use the correct pronouns for my other friend who uses them or me because well, you know, transphobia but they claim it's because using "they" in a singular sense is just too awkward for them to do that for my one other friend who uses they/them and me. And I could talk about the suicide rate of non-cis kids in this town, but this is a positive post, right? It's why the Trevor Project is so important.

So anyway. Tumblr, Discord, and the internet, in general, have been the only hardline I have to a diverse queer network. I've been on this site since sometime in early 2009, and you know, before that, I was on Livejournal, and before that, I was on fan forums, Yahoo! Groups, and Pro Boards. So I've been around. I've seen it all in real time. And even though I was not into anything to do with Superwholock, I saw all of that, and you know, I have never really been deep in a fandom. Not even when I was on Livejournal. I just have a massive aversion to oversaturation.

So. I've been watching 911 since the pilot. I was hyped for it because of Angela Bassett. I thought, "You're making Angela Bassett a cop and handing her a TV show; what could go wrong?" (That's rhetorical; don't @ me. I know better now.) Anyway. I was hooked from the first episode, and you have to understand when 911 premiered, I was in one of the darkest points of my life. I had finally been declared legally disabled, which I had been working toward for 3 years. So, you know, nobody on Tumblr was talking about this show. By the end of Season 1, a few of us were scratching around at things, but there wasn't much there.

Then, Season 2 happened, and you know, Season 2 was some of my best times in the 911 fandom. I was there when we were deciding on Beddie vs Buddie. I was there when the first Buck/Eddie fic was posted to AO3. I even wrote some back then. It was a completely different energy then. There was an entire Discord server of us who were mortified that "Be Careful What You Wish For" was likely about the part of fandom that wanted Eddie and Shannon to end, but the consensus was, "WTF, we wanted her gone, but not like that!" And then, you know, the people celebrating it got louder and louder, and I was in fandom less and less until I stopped posting about 911 entirely on Tumblr.

Eventually, I made a new blog, this blog, not because of that, but because Tumblr shadowbanned my old blog, and nothing I posted would show up in tags. And you know, I was a big fandom creator and roleplayer, and I had to start all over. But I was still watching 911. I never stopped. I also watch Lone Star, and oh, the stories I could tell about the early days of Lone Star when 911 OG purists were throwing hissy fits that Lone Star content was getting tagged as 911. Seriously, it was a knockdown, drag-out fight to watch. But anyway, you know, I'm watching, and I'm waiting. I'm waiting for Evan Buckley to be confirmed as bisexual as I get my Henren scraps and cry over everything they do to Josh.

Then, the show gets canceled. But OMG, it's Immediately picked up by ABC, so trying to understand how to feel was indescribable. Because Seasons 5 and 6 sucked, they sucked, and I won't be convinced otherwise, and I was despairing because I was going to have to jump ship. And then the show jumped networks. So, I'm figured what do I have to lose?

So, I am still reeling from the Cruise ship disaster and rescue. And I'm going, "Is my show back? It's kind of back, right?" while also going, "And Tommy's back, and he's getting along with everyone. Sure, why not?" And then, you know, Episode 4 happened, and I'm watching it wondering what the hell is going on. Is Tommy going to be a recurring character now? And then you know Buck was an idiot, and you know I thought it was about Eddie, and I was kind of mad because really? The cast and crew get kicked around by their ship's fans, and you're giving them this? Because anyone who tells me watching that episode as it was airing that they thought Buck was doing that for Tommy before the loft scene, I'm calling horseshit because I've been watching since episode 1

I've wanted Bi Buck for as long as I can remember. And it was not until the loft scene that I even realized something was happening. I didn't know what it was, but something was off. And some point, I was standing on the couch freaking out at my TV, going, "WHY ARE THEY STANDING SO CLOSE TOGETHER? WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?" And then, you know, the kiss happened, and thankfully, no one was living next door in my duplex at the time because I was not quiet about my joy, and I sprained my freaking knee. I was so chaotic in my reaction. (I had to go to urgent care. It was a whole thing. Eh, my joints suck because of chronic illness. I told you I was on disability a long time ago, okay.) And you know, once I simmered down, I ran to this blog to post about it because 4 episodes on a new network, and they gave me Bi Buck.

And you know, I tried so hard to find a voice for Tommy in my head, but I couldn't. I didn't have enough material to do it. I appreciated everyone who could do it because I read your fic, which was great. I didn't even get into the fandom for it until Season 8 because I couldn't wrap my head around the ship, but I was going to sit there as long as it took to understand Tommy because it's Bi Buck's canon ship. Of course, I want to be able to write it myself. That's what I do. And right about when Tommy brought Buck avocado toast, I got it. Everything synced up in my head, and I understood it. I could go back and look at things and understand why Tommy did things now.

So, during that break for Halloween, I was writing little things and not posting them. I had already at the start of Season 8 found a Discord server, and I was hanging out in the tag. I was looking through follow lists people posted and zipping through them. And yeah, sue me. I call it Tevan because that's what Tommy calls him. That's not a judgment on anyone; it's just my preference. I forgot to mention that I was also there when shit hit the fan during the Season 7 hiatus and trying to survive in my old 911 Discord Servers, but people were awful for no reason. I'm never gonna understand why a whole swath of fandom hated the ship to the point that they were causing traumatic harm to other people, especially queer men in fandom. That's just so beyond me, and, again, another reason we need the Trevor Project is that queer men fetishists on Tumblr do not constitute a safe community for queer people. But I'm getting off track.

So you know, they broke up Buck and Tommy in the next freaking episode, and I had a lot of feelings. I posted a lot of them here. Some of them conflict because you know the human brain can handle more than one viewpoint. Gray areas are my bread and butter when it comes to media. Anyone gets puritanical about anything; I don't care what you ship; I will remove you from my curated experience because I don't need it. It's not healthy.

I've been writing more and more about this ship since the breakup. I even wrote a fixit for the breakup. And you know what happened in the show compared to what people say in interviews? There's a huge disconnect. In any other situation, especially given it's 911 and the Abby of it all, you would expect this to not be over because that's not how Buck's big love interests work. Most of his relationships end with him being too invested, but you don't get to call it a pivotal relationship for Buck and say it's over cold turkey. That's crappy writing because it completely goes against his characterization.

But I didn't realize how attached many people were to Tommy. I felt like I finally met him in the Halloween episode, and bam, he's gone in the next. So much wasted potential. So much drama. So many harassed actors and crew members. So many "journalists" acting like it's their blog is the gossip section of their high school newspaper, but they get screeners? So much crap happened, and what was it all for? So Buck can pine for Tommy and cause Los Angeles County to go on a flour ration? Like? I don't get it. So yeah. If the show wants to fix this mistake because this one they did leave themselves a contingency plan by not killing the man, they can fix it.

So bring back Tommy. If you do, I'll think about forgiving you for Amir's storyline last season. But we still need to talk about what messages we're sending people in these episodes. Those teenage girls do not deserve to get blamed because a grown man went rage quit to the max. The copaganda is SO HIGH that I can't even watch Athena's scenes now. And there's a bunch more I won't list because we're talking about Tommy and how you need to bring him back. I love these characters, but I'm tired of them repeatedly getting the same trauma and outcomes. You finally let queer people kiss again on your show, and then you get rid of one of them?

Anyway. I'm going to keep writing BuckTommy because I need something good to happen in fandom as I continue to watch this ridiculous show. And if you read this whole thing. I'm sorry that this is how it ends.

[velvetvexations]

Since we're talking about forcefem, here're most of the forcefem-related asks I've had in my inbox, some of which are a few days old on account of technically going in the vexatious tag if not exactly kink asks. I wanted to answer one from today on it's own which I'll get to later but I wanted to get to the older ones and also get to a few of the others from today while I was at it.

i just saw a post where a trans guy was showing some messages where someone was (unconsensually) basically roleplaying forcefemming him. despite him telling them that he did not want that and that it was very much transphobic, and he atill got a message boiling down to "you're not a man, silly, you're a girl :D" and. to be honest. this was the thing that stopped the brainworms of "what if the whole concept of transandrophobia is actually transmisogynistic and i am entirely wrong" bc at least some of these people will just say the most bog standard transphobic shit to trans guys and not register it as transphobia. so why the fuck would they be right about anything transmascs experience also on that note thank you for being so outspoken in favour of transmascs getting to discuss their oppression. it's really helpful to see trans women stand with us here, especially when it comes to aforementioned brainworms

congratulations to that transphobe for creating a new transandrobro

the 'forcemasc isnt revolutionary' shit is the most annoying iteration of stupid tumblr discourse. like im going through the tag trying to read some horny shit and oh look. theres someone being stupid and hypocritical. in my horny tag.

people are getting tribalist about kinks and it's depressing

Every time people are saying that trans men & mascs cannot possibly fathom being objectified & fetishized, I think on all of the posts I’ve seen that did that exact same thing. And yeah, some of it might have been kink, so no hate no judgement I dabble in that tag too, but I’ve also seen “get in the dress” type posts that seem to be genuinely calling for trans men to be more feminine, untagged & in the wild, enough where I’m like — am I just imagining this? Like am I crazy? Am I missing something, or was that extremely detailed post about why I MUST stay feminine — or become more — for someone else’s benefit being 100% serious? And, again — if it’s kink, all the power to them, I love that for them, I even occasionally love that for me. But I have encountered enough people who were dead serious that I sometimes want no one but trusted friends & advisors to ever witness me again. And then I look at statistics & feel genuinely ill. And yeah, I’m gnc — and there’s the rub, because while I feel genuine joy being fem as well as masc, I want it to be a Choice, not something forced upon me.

people need to be fucking normal

Yh like ik a lot of shitposts don't have any tags but people have. Really gotta tag forcefem. I've blocked a large amount of people making these jokes + filtered their names n I still see it

I'm sorry, anon. <3

Fuck thank you so much for talking so openly about forcemasc. I’m so dumb I thought there wasn’t a name for that kink that I’ve been into for years, albeit my version is way more weirder. It would be like a… forcemascfem??? Like first it’s forcemasc and then it turns into forcefem and then right back to forcemasc…. And then back to- Idk my gender is weird and my kinky fantasy for that is weird

Cross as many boundries as you want, that sounds rad. Forcefem has a lot of infrastructure to jump off of.

“I’m doing a kink in a non kink way so it’s not kink blog!” Sorry this pisses me off It’s still a kink. Like. If someone made an I-suggest-BDSM blog and tried to claim it wasn’t a kink blog I’m sure more people would see how silly this is but because it’s the transfem approved virtuous forcefem they just let it slide??? Like. You are engaging in a kink and thats fine. You can say there won’t be anything explicitly sexual! But it will still be a kink blog because it’s a blog about a kink! A kink blog if you will! It doesn’t matter if you’re not getting off to it, it’s still a kink! That you are participating in! On your blog about that kink!

It SHOULD piss you off! It's extremely fucking scummy!

what the hell? for like one solid minute(longer than that but i like saying it this way) all the forcefem on my dash was tagged and i could blissfully not have to see it every other post and then just today i had to unfollow a buncha people for an assload of untagged forcefem :/ like im transmasc i think its understandable that i do not wish to see that anyway hope your day is goin well miss velvet

yeah it's praxis to not tag kink anymore

trfs are perfectly aware what the "force" bit means when forcemasc comes up in conversation

strange how that works

[xx-midnight-candy-goblin-xx]

Since some people haven't read my entire intro post:

Rules for drawing requests: if you want something NSFW, it's an immediate no. If it's something absolutely SFW then please use my asks! I'd like to make my art public. The drawing(s) most likely won't be fully finished drawings, but more like sketches or doodles. No OCs, only characters from the fandoms mentioned above. All drawing/sketches/doodles are COMPLETELY FREE!

Sometimes I might make exceptions for OCs or characters from other fandoms, but please just assume it's going to be a "no" from me. I will draw ships as long as it doesn't contain inc3st, p3d0philia, or if it's just a really toxic ship (Ex: Kevin X Jolie, Valentino X Angel, etc). If you want the drawing to be specifically traditional or digital art then tell me! For digital art, I use Google Canvas, MS Paint, Magma, and/or FlipaClip. (I'm working on doing animations, but please do not yet ask me to make animations for you. I'm trying to have fun with it right now :P. )

If you're a mutual and want me to draw you (from a real picture of you (that you will pretty please send in the DMs! Not through asks!), a description of you, or just based off vibes), go ahead and ask! I've already drawn three (3) of my moots haha

Requests may take a while to complete (I've had one rotting in my inbox for almost 2 months now, sorry Stars), but do not lose hope! I will get to it! Probably! Maybe! Hopefully! About 85% sure I will get to it!

Art is tagged with #my art Asks are tagged with #asks and #answer'd

Thank you!!

INTRO POST!! :D

[This will update over time]

Old blog: @midnight-candy-goblin (I can't access it anymore)

I'm taking drawing requests!! :)

The fandoms I'm in are;

TV show/movie/indie animation fandoms:

Helluva Boss

Hazbin Hotel

The Owl House

Heartstopper

The Amazing Digital Circus

Nimona

She Ra

Gravity Falls

Monkey Wrench

Death Note

The Hollow

RAMSHACKLE

Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous

Jurassic World Chaos Theory

The Music Freaks

Carmen Sandiego 2019

Wild Kratts

How to Train Your Dragon

Rise of the Guardians

Coraline

Octonauts

My Little Pony

Book fandoms:

Wings of Fire

Nimona

The Land of Stories

The Hunger Games

Loveless

Solitaire

A Good Girl's Guide to Murder

Heartstopper

Coraline

The Reappearance of Rachel Price

Webcomic fandoms:

Jackson's Diary

Castle Swimmer

School Bus Graveyard

Heartstopper

High Class Homos

Love Me to Death

Spicy Mints

Verses:

Hellaverse

Osemanverse

I post my art sometimes and make my own posts, but I mostly reblog things

He/they/it, chaotic, ENTP/INTP/INFP, therapist friend, bisexual, call me Goblin or Ado or Avocado (long story)

I live in Japan currently, but was raised in Washington State and Peru. I'm Peruvian-Japanese-American 🫡 Kuzco is my cousin btw (The Emporor's New Groove)

I speak English, Spanish, some German, and I'm learning Japanese. I also know Morse code ...././._../._../___ :)) (my Morse is a bit rusty though) I also know the runic alphabet and a code called Atbash.

Pfp art is NOT mine!!

Hola, me llamo Goblin. Hablo inglés, español, un poco de alemán y un poquitito de japonés.

Hallo, ich heiße Goblin, ich spreche Englisch, Spanisch, etwas Deutsch, und ein bisschen Japanisch.

私の名前はゴブリンです。 ごめんなさい英語を話せますか? (-_-;)

I'm a ✨minor✨

(but my doctor told me I have the maturity of a junior in college ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

If you ever want to talk about any of these fandoms 👏DON'T👏BE👏AFRAID👏TO👏ASK👏ME👏

I LOVE getting asks and messages, I want to get to know my mutuals and other followers better

Also if you have any recommendations (smth to watch/read) please tell me!! I won't get to it immediately, but (probably) at some point, so don't be afraid to recommend smth <3

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk :]

[Insta: xx_midnight_candy_goblin_xx

Pinterest (obviously I only post JD things, it has infested my mind): Ken Okamoto ]

I AM CRINGE BUT I AM FREE

Transphobes, racists, ableists, sexist, homophobes, pedophiles, zoophiles, DO NOT INTERACT.

Free Palestine. I will not be taking questions.

Time zones suck ass. Wdym you're eating lunch? It's midnight??

I am an atheist, but will say stuff like "Oh my god", "like god intended", "holy shit", etc

Yes, I write fics. No, I will not give you my ao3 acc. See if you can figure it out tho :)

I use Heelys still. Be more like me /hj

My favorite quote is "Suck it up, eat cookies." from my band teacher (9/9/22) However my head is FILLED with vine quotes

My art is (usually) tagged with #my art, my posts are tagged with #my post For reblogs regarding bigger fandoms, I probably won't tag them, but if it's a smaller fandom or something I want to find again then I usually will tag it properly

Rules for drawing requests: if you want something NSFW, it's an immediate no. If it's something absolutely SFW then please use my asks! I'd like to make my art public. The drawing(s) most likely won't be fully finished drawings, but more like sketches or doodles. No OCs, only characters from the fandoms mentioned above. All drawing/sketches/doodles are COMPLETELY FREE!

I might take writing prompts soon, but we'll have to wait and see. . .

Thank you for reading!!

[wynnerwynner]

𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐋

jacaerys velaryon x fem!cregan's sister!reader

when Y/N returns home to winterfell, she seeks her brothers' approval to marry the targaryen prince.

request: no

warnings: mention of character death, mild grief

wc: 1.8k

a/n: just a quick little jace imagine! although i'm not sure if it constitutes entirely as a jace imagine since there's more reader and cregan LOL

It was a wonder how the crypts of Winterfell could be considered an honorary place when it was so dank. Jonnel could not feel the cold anymore, but as Y/N looked up at his statue, she wondered how her brother was not rising from death simply to complain. He’d never been built for a place like Winterfell. Neither was she. That’s why she moved to Dragonstone and led a simple life selling sea glass to ignorant tourists. Or maybe it was to escape his shadow in the halls, or to escape his spirit still in the walls, knocking and banging through the servants corridors.

Hesitantly, Y/N placed her hand on Jonnel’s cold statue, lowering her head.

“He’d be proud of you.”

Y/N locked eyes with Cregan, walking towards her. He knelt beside her and stared up at Jonnel’s stone face.

“I have something to tell you,” she said carefully.

Cregan gazed at her.

“I befriended Prince Jacaerys—while at Dragonstone.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

Y/N chuckled, making him smile. “I love him.” When he didn’t react, she added, “He loves me.”

Cregan looked at their brother thoughtfully.

She licked her lips. “Say something or I may be sick all over Jon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I am,” she scoffed.

“These are treacherous waters, Y/N.”

“The Queen has inquired much into my married life. I believe she’s interested. She sees much of us.”

“She hasn’t sent me any letters,” he countered.

“I’m sure she will,” she consoled him. “She’s a little busy planning a war, Cregan.”

“Y/N, he’s not just any Prince,” Cregan looked at her. “He’s Rhaenyra’s son. Rumours are that he’s a…”

“I don’t care,” she snapped.

“Whatever rumours and heresy follow him, go to you too,” he replied calmly. “Your children would be considered an insult to the throne with the rumours of his legitimacy.”

Y/N removed her hand from her brother, clenching it in her lap, “I don’t care.”

“You can’t just say you don’t care!” his voice echoed off the walls.

Y/N turned to face him. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

Cregan stared at her.

“This is what father and mother wished for me,” she exclaimed. “To get married, to have children, like the perfect little Lady. I never thought I’d want this, but now I do and I want it with Jace.” Her brows furrowed and she stood, shaking her head. “You’re just angry because I have something good and you have the same old castle with the same old servants and the same old soldiers.”

Y/N fast-walked out of the crypts, leaving both her brothers in the cold underground.

***

“Enter.”

Y/N set down her quill as Cregan stepped through the door. After shutting it, he took a few steps in. Her eyes immediately locked onto the floor. 

“What’re you doing?” he wondered aloud.

“Writing to Jace,” she replied, jaw tense. “Lucerys Velaryon is planning a trip to speak with you. I’m letting him know he will be well looked after here.”

Cregan nodded thoughtfully.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” she began, teeth so tense they could crack. “I don’t think you’re angry I have different opportunities.”

“I’m not angry… though I am jealous.” Cregan sat in a chair near the burning hearth. “You’re right. You get to leave Winterfell and meet all manner of people whenever you choose and I get the same view I’ve seen since I was a babe. But that’s just my position. I am Lord whether I like it or not.”

“You could give it up,” she mumbled at her parchment.

“And give it to who? Benjen?”

Her eyes rolled. “Benjen would burn this place down.”

Cregan laughed, nodding. “He would.” He sighed. “Winterfell may be my hell, but it is also my home. I belong here. Clearly, you do not.”

After less than a second of sullen silence, he added, “Y/N, your Lord Brother demands you to look at him, please.”

She looked up at him, although still with a sour expression.

“I love Jace,” she mumbled.

“I know you do,” he said softly.

“You must let me go, Cregan,” her quill clacked against the table as she emphasized his name.

“I’m trying,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “I do not wish to see you forced onto a battlefield as a result of him.”

“Women who do not end up on a battlefield are put through childbearing,” she said. “That is our battlefield.”

Cregan nodded, “I have always been terrified at either thought.”

Y/N watched her brother as he stood.

“I will send a raven to Dragonstone… requesting the Prince to accompany his brother. It is integral the future King witnesses the army that will be fighting for him and his mother.”

***

By the Lord of Winterfell’s request, Y/N was in the Great Hall, dining alongside him. She had been up all night, anticipating Jace’s arrival, so she’d much rather have been in her bed. Although, she couldn’t complain too much as the Great Hall was closer to the gate than the Great Keep.

At the rattle of dishes, Cregan flinched.

“He’s here!” Y/N shouted, leaping from the bench and running for the door.

“Y/N,” he called. “Y/N!”

She ignored him, running out of the hall gleefully, skirts in her hands.

Servants and working men backed out of the way of her in the courtyard. It had been a long time since she ran amuck through the castle. She could almost feel her brother chasing after her.

 As she got to the courtyard of the southern gate, the wooden doors opened wide. While others bowed their heads, Y/N raced across the mud.

A smile broke out on Jace’s face as she came toward him.

Y/N leapt into his arms. The entirety of Winterfell was silent as they watched Jace and Y/N walk hand-on-arm across the courtyard, over to a glaring Cregan. She ignored the look of disapproval from him. She was much too excited to care.

“Apologies for the informalities of my dear sister,” Cregan said. “I assure you, she has been raised better than this.”

“No apologies necessary,” Jace smiled, glancing at her. He patted her hand hooked under his arm. “I believe she and I are long past formalities.”

Cregan nodded once, not willing to debate with the prince.

“Oh, relax, Brother,” she groaned. “He’s not going to bite your head off.”

“You have known the Prince for quite a while, Y/N. I have only just met him today. Prince Lucerys,” he bowed.

Lucerys nodded with a regal smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Stark.”

“Take us to your crypts,” Jace said. “We should like to pay our respects to your father.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

***

Y/N cracked the servants door as she listened in on her brother and Jace speaking by the hearth.

“Do you love ‘er?” Cregan said over the crackling fire.

“She makes me the best version of myself,” Jace answered. “She’s taught me to look at the world differently.”

“I didn’t ask how she makes you feel, I asked if you love ‘er,” her brother replied. “Y/N has always been able to make people feel important,” he mumbled. Cregan looked at his hands, rubbing them together.

“When our mother fell sick,” he added, “our father refused to leave her side. Shortly after she passed, so did he from the same. Overnight I not only became a lord and a warden, I became a father and mother to my brother and sister. I’ve raised them since they were ten and one. They were children.”

“You have another brother?”

Cregan’s eyes narrowed at him, “She never told you she has a twin?”

Jace shook his head.

“It is an indescribable pain when you lose your twin. I’m not surprised she never told you. She hasn’t spoken of him since his death.”

Cregan leaned back in his chair and looked Jace in the eyes.

“I say all of this because the love she feels for you could destroy her if it is not returned tenfold. You may be next in line for the throne, Jacaerys Velaryon, but you are nothing but skin and bones to me when it comes to my little sister. If you hurt her or do not love her, I will serve the Queen until the day of her death but the moment she takes her last breath I will not answer your summons.”

Jace looked to the fire, nodding.

“I love her,” he finally answered. “I’d take an arrow for her.”

“But would you take almost two million? Because that’s how many soldiers the Greens have.”

“Of course I would,” Jace looked at him, affronted. “I’d give my life if it meant she could safely stay out of this war.”

“If she takes your name she gains a target on her back.”

“She has a target even if she’s a Stark,” Jace argued. “She is a Lady of Winterfell and the Warden of the North’s sister. Everyone you love has a target on their back.”

“What can you do to protect her that I haven’t already?” Cregan’s voice became quiet, careful. He was assessing him. “She can be quite unwilling to listen to the reality of the world.”

“Y/N is reasonable,” Jace countered. “I believe she’s more understanding of reality than you or I. When you die, she does not become Lady of Winterfell or Warden of the North, she is expected to have her heir do that. She is luckier than us in the sense that she does not have as many expectations, so she may bend those rules.”

Cregan’s brows were furrowed in concentration.

“If I approve of this marriage, you must do everything to keep her alive and happy. You must lay down your life if it comes to it. She is all I have left, Jacaerys. I will never forgive you if she is put in harm's way.”

“I’d ruin my name—I’d strip my title if need be to bring her home safe to you. Whatever is necessary, I’ll do it,” said Jace.

Cregan stared at him.

“You're a good man, Jacaerys. And I hope you’ll make a good King, too.”

Jace nodded solemnly. “I will. For her, I will.”

“Scaring him off already, Brother?”

Jace’s head whipped to the doorway as she walked through.

“How much of that did you hear?” Cregan asked over his shoulder.

“I could say none of it, though you wouldn’t believe me,” Y/N squeezed Jace’s shoulder.

Cregan stared at his sister and the man she wished to marry. She saw him recognize the way Jace look at her and watched him sigh out of his nose.

“Your Highness, if I could have a moment alone with my sister…”

“Of course.”

When Jace left the room, she sat where he once was.

“He reminds me much of Jon.”

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “He does.”

“Y/N if this is what you want… then I support you. I’m sure he would, too.”

She fought the tears pricking at her eyes. “Thank you, Cregan.”

[theaceofarrows]

Something that just came to me...is that UMA would know that Hook and the Hooklings were NOT in fact dead.

What if during Bridget's coup it somehow came out that she was the hooklings mother (Uma would already KNOW that but not that Bridget is under the impression that they're not alive) and that she thinks her kids and husband are dead.

Uma freezes in her 'card holders' arms and is like "wait...you think Hook and his/your kids are DEAD? Harry's not DEAD! None of them are! How long have you been thinking their dead?!"

I'm just imagining Uma hearing this and stopping her fight with the guards out of pure shock. Harry had told her more than once about the day that his family was separated. His father, sisters, and himself dragged from his mother and home and carted off to the Isle.

Uma knows the whole story and all the details that Harry could remember at three years old, but neither Harry nor Harriet, for that matter, had ever seemed to think that their mother may think them dead. That, even more than the coup itself, was the biggest shock to her.

To add to your dialogue, imagining Uma saying, "You really think they're dead? I talked to Harry just this morning." Bridget freezes for just a second at hearing Uma say his name because Bridget never gave any names, but she quickly recovers and accuses Uma of lying. Saying it's a trick, a trick using her dead family.

Uma doesn't stop, though, saying, "I've known Harry since he and the rest of his family were first tossed inside the barrier. Harry's been my best friend since we we're kids. He's my first mate. He's my boyfriend. He's very much alive. They're all alive."

Bridget angrily says that that's impossible. She saw what they did to her husband. She saw how they grabbed and treated her children as if they were nothing. How she didn't see them in the Looking Glass.

So Uma says, "You and his dad met in high school, right?" It's not a question. "My aunt and uncle- heck Hades and Maleficent too, say that Harry looks just like he did back then. You can see for yourself. I have pictures of him on my phone."

When Uma gets her phone out of her pocket, Bridget has one of the guards seize it, so she can't try and contact anyone for help. After that, Uma says through clinched teeth, "Fine, since I can't use my phone, there's a picture of him on the wall in my office. You can't miss it. He's the dark-haired one dressed in black," she looks Bridget in the eye and says knowingly, "He's the one holding the hook."

It's a whirlwind from there. Guards retrieve the picture, and when Bridget sees it, she gasps and holds her chest as tears form in her eyes. Because that's the little boy who was taken from her, who used to follow her everywhere around the castle proudly proclaiming that he would protect her. It's him, but at the same time, not.

She has Uma call Harrry away from the rest of the hostages. It's on speaker phone to make sure she doesn't try anything. Uma tells Harry some of what's going on, that there's a coup going on, and that she needs him at the school now as quickly as he can be and to come alone.

I'm not entirely sure of the order of things after that, but I think this would be a good start.

I headcanon that after the welcoming ceremony, Uma planned on bringing Bridget and Red to her office to tell them that Harry was her new vice principal, that he was originally supposed to be there for the ceremony, but the weather from the port he sailed out of had delayed him, but he would be there in a few days.

But of course, because of the coup, none of this is able to happen.

Thanks for the ask!!

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Emotions Gen 1 pt.93

CW: Crude Language, Mentions Death, Surgery Complications

Kason went to find the family and deliver the news. The abrasive hospital lights added to his already haunted expression. First, Mercury was still in surgery. She suffered from a head contusion, two broken ribs, and a broken arm. The fractured ribs turned into a bigger issue, puncturing her right lung, and causing it to collapse. The surgeon was forced to perform a pleurodesis. During the procedure, her heart stopped.

The surgeon managed to revive her, before mending the tear in her lung, now they were working to stop some internal bleeding, made worse during the resuscitation process. Subsequent to that information he told them about Paris's plan.

Though they were relieved to hear M was alive, they were equally devastated to hear how serious her injuries were and she wasn't out of the woods yet. That sadness was channeled into outrage towards Paris, their anger twofold due to her fictional rendition of events.

The triplets were still held in the Pediatrics unit with Spirit when Kason delivered the double-edged sword.

Earlier, Dr. Brawner; the triplet's pediatrician, confirmed that Venus sprained her wrist. After an examination and a brief conversation, Dr. Brawner bandaged Venus's wrist before informing Spirit and Peyton that she intended to keep all the kids longer. She wanted to monitor Venus's range of motion but also sent in a child psychiatrist to observe the triplet's behavior, specifically Venus.

As the adults waited for another update on Mercury, Beckett excused himself to locate Spirit and check on the triplets. The remaining party discussed ways to clear Kason's name in the event the police started to believe that Paris's tall tales held any merit.

Winter: M came to see us when you were on that business trip. She definitely showed me and Peyton your text about that bitches disgusting behavior.

Kiersten: I have plenty of videos and pictures from Rufus, showing Paris basically sexually harassing the entire office.

Winter: Let's not forget all the information that Takara gathered during M's lawsuit against the paparazzi.

Peyton: I still have all the text you sent me from the first week you started training her. They’re pretty specific and there is no way we fabricated them they're time and date-stamped.

Kason ignored them, once again overwhelmed by what he believed were his own shortcomings.

Kason: I'll take care of it, this is my fault I deserve whatever happens. If I’d pushed Greg harder to do something or called the police, M wouldn't be...None of you should have to deal with this. I failed, just like Detective Jerk-off said.

Peyton: Will you give it a rest! This is her fault and her fault alone! Unless you want to tell us that you tried to have M and the kids killed for money? Because if that's the case then, yes, you're on your fucking own! Otherwise, shut the hell up and let us help you!

Kason: Don't you ever say that shit to me again!

Winter: Peyton, calm down.

Peyton: No! I'm sick of his fucking pity party. Could he have done more, yes, but we all could have done more! We all knew! But, your family needs you now and all you can do is cry about how it's all your fault. Wah, wah, wah. Your kids are handling this better than you are and according to you they actually got to see what happened. Grow up, dude!

Winter: Peyton!

Kiersten: Guys...

Kason: Fuck you, Peyton.

Peyton: Thats my nieces, my nephew, and my best friend!

Winter: And those are his wife and kids!

Peyton: Then he needs to pull himself together! This is exactly what Paris wants. She hopes you'll fold and won’t be able to fight her allegations. Then all her little stories will start to look true, as you hide away waiting for someone to come looking for answers. Don't isolate yourself! When Dad died you did the same thing. You wouldn't let me be there for you then, but let us be here for you now!

Kiersten: I'm not sure what happened with your dad, but he's right Kason. This isn't your fault. Not this nor the fire. I'm sorry, I know I haven't been...I haven't... I shouldn’t have...I'm so sorry, but you must know, that none of us blame you for Paris's actions. So, please don't destroy yourself over this. It's not what M or Rufus would want for you.

Kason looked around at the group. Their faces mirrored his tumultuous emotions. Terror and indignation were at the forefront, but their eyes lacked the dejection he was sure shone from his own. Instead, their eyes held compassion, and patience, and just below that was a hint of caution.

Kason: [sigh] I'm sorry, I just.. I can't believe this is happening. But Peyt- you guys are right. I need to stop sulking and get it together and I do need your help.

Peyton: Ahhh! Like music to my ears. Say it again!

Winter: Really Peyton?

She bit back an involuntary smile.

Kiersten: How does he jump from angry mob to comedian like that?

She asked, bent over in a fit of giggles. Kason shook his head, but he had a small grin on his face.

Kason: Good grief. Is he really my brother?

Peyton's comment had provided some momentary relief from the otherwise tense situation. The group resumed the discussion more cohesively.

They broke down Paris's story into key components. First, Kason and Paris being "Official". They compiled a list of events that could dispute that claim. Next, they moved on to her claims that Kason wanted a divorce. Kiersten mentioned the article in Simblr Magazine about their "alleged divorce". Kason countered, pulling up M’s simstagram response to the magazine with the photos from their Spooky Day party.

Winter: The guest and the paparazzi can attest to the validity and authenticity of their relationship from that night alone. They were all over each other.

Kason: The guest sure, but the paparazzi are out for blood. After they lost the lawsuit for slander they've been following M around constantly. I don't think it's a coincidence they showed up at the supermarket and hospital so fast. No way they found out so quickly unless someone was already following us.

Winter: Or Paris tipped them off. She did give those pictures of you and Madison to them, I wouldn’t put it past her to want an audience for her little….performance.

Winter wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Peyton: I want to believe there isn't a sim alive who would have known this was going to happen, and didn't try and stop it, even if they are paparazzi looking for a story.

Kason: I wouldn't be so sure.

Peyton pushed the conversation along.

Peyton: let’s leave that miserable scenario right where it is. What about the reports you made at work and the fire? Those reports have to be on file and your boss fired her because he thinks she was the cause of the fire. That has to be useful for something.

Kason: He actually agreed to release her because she attacked a new IT team member in the break room. The fire started while I was wrapping up the conversation about terminating her.

Winter: Have you spoken to him? What are his thoughts on the fire?

Kason: I have. He’s almost as convinced as I am that she started the fire, but he won’t do anything until we have that camera footage. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want more bad blood between himself and Mr.Amyot, which is why he isn’t handling this more aggressively.

Kiersten’s soft voice cut in.

Kiersten: Can we just wait for M and the kids, please? I-I can’t talk about this anymore.

The silence that followed her plea was deafening. Just three days earlier her husband had been in that exact fire. Today, he was two floors above them, recovering in one of Brindelton General's many hospital beds.

Kason: Sure Kiersten. Sorry.

Peyton and Winter took that as their queue to end the conversation. Kason and Kiersten took a seat on the bench, while Peyton and Winter took up a position a short distance away, comforting each other quietly. Kiersten shivered from the fridge hospital air, she stared at the floor with sad eyes.

Kiersten: Stop apologizing. It's just…hard talking about people you care about being hurt, and for what; because of one person's jealousy? We shouldn't need to have this conversation. It’s just all wrong.

Kason: Believe me, I know what you're feeling. Rufus has quickly become one of my best friends. I hate that I couldn't do more for him.

Kiersten: When I said people I care about, that includes you. I know I haven't behaved like a good friend lately and it would be easy to blame it on hormones, but that wouldn’t be unfair. I was upset, confused, and scared and took it out on you. I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that. You are Rufus's best friend. You and M have become very dear to me and the kids. I would never want to lose that kind of friendship.

Kason: Now look who’s apologizing too much? Honestly, I'm just glad you don't hate me. It's one burden lifted, a heavy one mind you. We'll get through this together Kiersten. I promise Paris won’t win and we won’t let her take anything more from us.

Kiersten reached over and placed her hand over Kason's, she looked over at him and smiled.

Kiersten: I trust you.

The moment was interrupted when they heard Mercurys' name being called.

Doctor: Family of Mercury Gratz?

Everyone scrambled forward, tripping over themselves and each other to reach the approaching gentlemen. The doctor stumbled back in surprise, smiling warmly at the concerned faces that stared back at him.

Doctor: I'm pleased to share, that Mercury did very well. They are getting her cleaned up and moved into a private recovery room. I do want to inform you, that we are keeping her in a medically induced coma to reduce the risk of her rebreaking her ribs or tearing the repaired lung. She is suffering from a concussion but her brain activity is normal. The surgeon was able to relieve the slight pressure from the blow to her head. We anticipate she'll make a full recovery.

Their relief was audible as they released the breath they'd been simultaneously holding, while smiles broke out across their faces.

Kason: Thank you, doctor.

Winter: Will we be able to see her tonight?

Doctor: Yes. As soon as she is set up in her recovery room, you may visit with her.

Winter's wings flapped involuntarily giving away her excitement. The Doctor smiled at the small gesture.

Doctor: I can see you’re all eager. Let me see what I can do to expedite the process. Excuse me.

The moment he was gone Kason broke down into a sob. Peyton, Winter, and Kiersten surrounded him. Their own eyes filled with unshed tears.

Peyton: She's going to be okay. They're all going to be okay.

Winter: It's okay Kason. Your okay.

Kiersten:

Through his sobs only a single letter was coherent, He repeated it again and again.

Kason: M….M

No one said another word. They stood silently, surrounding him as he cried, trying to shed some of the guilt, fear, and sorrow he’d managed to build up in the past 5 hours. When his sobs quieted to mere sniffles and shoulder shakes, Kiersten handed him a handkerchief. He excused himself to find a men’s room and get cleaned up.

20 minutes later the doctor returned, and his news was only second best to him announcing Mercury had survived.

Doctor: Room 265. She is all yours family.

As the doctor excused himself, the group looked at each other, their excitement peeled away to expose the nerves. Aside from Kason, none of them knew what to expect. For a while no one spoke, so Kason took charge.

Kason: I’m going to check in with the kids and let Spirit and Beckett know M’s out of surgery and what room. Who wanted to see her first or do you all want to go together?

Kiersten took a step back, shaking her head.

Kiersten: I’m sorry, I’m not ready to see her like this yet. I should get home to the boys.

Kason: I understand. Do you want company? I have to take the triplets home at some point.

She declined again.

Kiersten: Thank you, but I just need some time alone. Besides, you should be here.

Kason: Thank you for being here Kiersten. It means a lot to M and it means a lot to me. I’ll call you a cab. Text us when you’re home.

Kason called Kiersten a ride and walked her down to ensure she was okay. Once she was gone he went to find Spirit and the kids. Meanwhile, Winter and Peyton decided to visit with M separately. Winter entered, quickly realizing she couldn't handle being in the room alone, and called for Peyton who was waiting in the hall. He joined her, shocked by the sight of M, but he did his best to hide his discomfort for Winter’s sake. She and Winter were like sisters but Peyton and M had quickly become bestfriends early in her tenancy in San Myshuno. When they couldn't bear to see her like that any longer they exited in a hurry and Spirit somberly took their place.

She quietly took out a copy of "Court of the Slumbering Fae" as she gazed at her daughter. She took a seat on the blue loveseat and began reading. When she finished the first chapter, she earmarked the page and closed the book placing it on the sofa.

Spirit: I will be back soon little planet.

She whispered as she headed for the door. She stole one last glance before stepping out into the hall. Kason was there, helping the triplets put on their outerwear.

Kason: Put your earmuffs on Dite, it's cold out.

Spirit: Everything okay out here?

Kason walked over leaving the kids to finish dressing and talking amongst themselves. Kason sighed, exhausted from the day.

Kason: They want to see her, but I think they should wait till tomorrow. It's late and they've been through so much. They need to eat, bathe, and get some rest. I can bring them back in the morning to see her.

Spirit: That makes sense, but I will take them home. You need to be here with M. Have you seen Beckett?

Kason: He left right after they discharged the triplets. He said he would come back and see M tomorrow.

Spirit nodded in understanding.

Spirit: Shooting star incoming.

She tried to warn him, but before Kason could turn he heard Ishtar's voice

Ishtar: Dad, are we going to see Mommy tonight?

Kason looked at Spirit for help but she just smiled and raised her eyebrows.

Kason: Not tonight buddy. Nana is going to take you guys home so you can have a nice hot meal, a warm bath, and sleep in your bed.

Ishtar: Okay, but you have to stay here with Mommy so she's not all alone.

Kason kissed Ishtar's cheek.

Kason: Of course I will. I won't leave her side for a minute. Not even to potty.

Ishtar laughed, as Kason called the girls over to tell them they were going home. Spirit waited patiently as he said his goodbyes. Kason did his best to seem in high spirits. It seemed to work for Ishtar and Aphrodite who joined in Kasons antics, but Venus remained docile. He gave the girls hugs before the car arrived. Just before Spirit left she stopped to hug Kason.

Spirit: You did well Hilang Bulan. Jorden would be proud of you. Our solar system is still whole. Do us all a favor and try and get a little rest tonight.

Kason smiled at the high praise. He hadn't heard that name since M was pregnant with Zohreh. He hugged her a little tighter, moved by her words.

Kason: Thank you Spirit. I will.

He walked them out, then returned to M's room alone.

Kason: Hello gorgeous. Even after all that you are still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

He removed his coat and set it down on the chair. He picked up the book Spirit had left behind. He sat in the chair nearest M and opened the marked page.

Kason: Let's see where you left off.

He began reading from chapter two. He read until he felt the book slipping from his hands. Instead of pulling out the fancy Murphy bed, Kason curled up on the sofa and watched M until he fell asleep.

Previous Next

Beginning

[stromuprisahat]

metvmorqhoses:

Let’s not forget that this grand declaration of love, the “I see you now” (which would have already been top cringe in normal circumstances) is only coming right after the entire country has started to see the said “old friend” as a national treasure and a literal saint lol could it be that the idiot only started to “see her now” because literally everyone else suddenly started to see Alina as special? Worth seeing now? One has to wonder lmao

all of Ravka:

Malyen: I see you now...

sad-outsider:

I think this is from R&R, but I could be wrong🤔

albediz:

Well, I'm not sure either, but I think they're referring to a chapter of ruin and rising. Ruin and Rising Chapter 16 - "I looked down, brushing petals off of the desk. “Did you ever notice me at Keramzin?” He was silent for a long moment, and when I glanced at him, he was looking up at the glass ceiling. He’d gone red as a beet. “Mal?” He cleared his throat, crossed his arms. “As a matter of fact, I did. I had some very… distracting thoughts about you.” “You did?” I sputtered. “And I felt guilty for every one of them. You were supposed to be my best friend, not…” He shrugged and turned even redder. “Idiot.” I think that would be it, but Mal said she feels "guilt" not "shame". Unfortunately, I have this chapter recorded in my memory since it is where Mal and Alina have sex and it is quite depressing.

Thanks. I'm glad I didn't get to it yet.

You can tell he's supposed to be cute by how red he gets. I suspect he might be holding his breath to fool Alina, because it's funnier explanation than "LB's trying to make it heartwarming and adorable by suddenly presenting Malyen as awkward and shy, when some of us remember how he treated Alina previous two books".

But hey- he didn't mean it. He just couldn't bring himself to ask out the only girl he truly wanted. 😉

Thinking about it- this shows the seeds of two cases of terrible gaps between writing and expected perception- Wesper and Zoya.

To keep it short (I wrote about both elsewhere.)- Wesper is presented as a cute relationship, yet when you look, they're a variation on "If he bullies you, he likes you.". Zoya gets traumatic past and a garden for dead people she previously didn't care about to make her vulnerable and tender on the inside. Deep, deep down. Please ignore her mean, cruel behaviour.

Besides, if a guy acted the way Malyen does in a situation like this, I wouldn't interpret it as a shared vision of married future, I'd suspect him he was jerking off above my sleeping form (since there wasn't that many to pick from, and Alina likely believes she's never supposed to touch her nether parts, so she won't even think about that option).

The fact that Malyen felt ashamed of the feelings he had for Alina already tells us a lot about these supposed feelings.

In reality, who would want to fall in love and date a stick...

Hey nonny, next time add a quote or at least a chapter please, because I'm not sure which of his star moments you're refering to. I don't think he ever speaks about shame- that's Alina's domain.

What I DO remember is his surprise he misses his "oldest friend", which like... okay, who wouldn't be shocked to care about losing something they took for granted?

Forgive the sarcasm, but I'll never cease to be baffled this is supposed to be peak romance. I miss my own bed, when away from home. You're telling me he didn't thought he might feel the same about a PERSON he spend most of his life with? One he ALLEGEDLY ~cares~ about?!

That whole scene leading to his great declaration lies somewhere between laughable, pathetic and repugnant. I've already done its analysis, but let's try again:

“Did you miss me, Alina? Did you miss me when you were gone?” “Every day,” I said honestly. “I missed you every hour. And you know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. I’d catch myself walking around to find you, not for any reason, just out of habit, because I’d seen something that I wanted to tell you about or because I wanted to hear your voice. And then I’d realize that you weren’t there anymore, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me. I’ve risked my life for you. I’ve walked half the length of Ravka for you, and I’d do it again and again and again just to be with you, just to starve with you and freeze with you and hear you complain about hard cheese every day. So don’t tell me we don’t belong together,” he said fiercely. He was very close now, and my heart was suddenly hammering in my chest. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, Alina. But I see you now.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 19

“Did you miss me, Alina? Did you miss me when you were gone?” Looking for assurance Alina DID miss him. Which could be innocent, except his next sentence makes it sound as if she chose to leave of her own free will. To abandon HIM.

“Every day,” I said honestly. “I missed you every hour. Trying to outdo Alina in how much. It's pretty childish- Malyen is no poet going for hyperbole, even unintentional, it's as if Alina's feelings weren't enough. HE's the one giving more (and deserving greater appreciation).

And you know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. Yup! Here's the one on how much did he value her company before she became important to others...

I’d catch myself walking around to find you, not for any reason, just out of habit, because I’d seen something that I wanted to tell you about or because I wanted to hear your voice. Again, another half-innocent sentence, that grows much more negative in context of his previous and following (S&S!!!) behaviour towards Alina. He doesn't seek her out because he enjoys her company, but because he's used to her unwavering presence. It's about what she can do for him.

And then I’d realize that you weren’t there anymore, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me. Yes, that happens, when you lose a constant in your life, but that doesn't mean you love or care about it. It might be about a comfort of rutine.

I’ve risked my life for you. I’ve walked half the length of Ravka for you ... now he's listing what she should be grateful for as if she asked for any of it. Knowing Alina at this point, steady glance in her direction would be enough, but that's no grand gesture, is it?! This makes me think how often Alina has to listen to the list of what he gave up for her post-R&R. How often he seeks loud appreciation of his "sacrifices". Happy home indeed.

... I’d do it again and again and again just to be with you, just to starve with you and freeze with you and hear you complain about hard cheese every day. So don’t tell me we don’t belong together, Again, this one started nice... for Malyen to fuck it up with the last sentence. That one isn't reassurance. That's an order. What if Alina only wanted to be friends? The excerpt above follows Malyen's anger over Alina's performance at Winter Fete: That night at the palace when I saw you on that stage with him, you looked so happy. Like you belonged with him. I can’t get that picture out of my head. What if Alina realized Baghra was lying and wanted to regain Aleksander's trust? What if she found someone else? What if she decided she has plenty on her plate as it stands, so she won't start a romantic relationship with anyone? The next book will show us neither of those options are an option, when Malyen's concerned. He'll guilt-trip her into being with him want it or not.

And here comes the cherry on the top- I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, Alina. But I see you now. I don't need to be mean to say too little- too late. Hell, Alina could (should) have! This sounds like he's expecting a pat on his head and a badge of honour for his accomplishments. Admitting he wronged her in the past shouldn't earn him a clean slate, he should first change his ways. Not to mention he'll soon prove "see" and "accept" are a whole different beasts.

Geez, it gets worse with every re-read!

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

I love being a multishipper. Yes I want these two to kiss. I also want this one person to kiss this other person even though they were kissing this other person earlier. They do not cancel each other out. Sometimes a poly ship helps but then also you ship two brothers with the same person and like. No. That would be weird. I'll just ship them both separately. That's not confusing at all.

[gndrneutralnoun]

Thank you so much for responding to my ask!

I think... that I probably have things handled, then. Of course it's something I have to keep working on and maintaining, but since we're in a long-distance relationship - we met online and there's literally an ocean between us - a lot of the relationship is emotional support and making time for each other and such. It's just that I'm worried that once we move in together (which is something we definitely want to do eventually) it'd shift the balance of the relationship. Which, I know, it's not a 1:1 thing, but... well, it's still a worry.

My boyfriend is actually also autistic and mentally ill; in particular he has pretty bad depression and social anxiety. I do my absolute best to support him and remind him that he's loved, and I make sure to express any frustration or anger gently and with explanations. In return, he does the same. I'm really lucky that I have someone like him that's so patient with me and loves my entire self the way I love his entire self, too.

Expressing appreciation is a good point - I have a... complicated relationship with my parents, but I always make sure to express my gratitude when they do stuff for me, stuff I know they'd prefer not to do since they're both 60+ haha. I just... My mom in particular often complains about stuff that I ask her to do for me because I can't do it myself, and it always makes me feel bad. It makes me feel like I can't ask her to do stuff without her complaining triggering my rejection-sensitive dysphoria (yes, I have ADHD too lol). I get that she has a right to be frustrated and express that, but it's always like "You really need to do some of this stuff for yourself sometimes" and stuff like that, which I try to tell her that I do do some of the stuff sometimes, but before long she's complaining about it again a few days later. I dunno. Maybe my situation with my parents affects my worries for living with my partner(s) (both my boyfriend and I are non-monogamous) in the future more than I realize.

I'm really sorry if this is out of line, but I keep ruminating on this and I just... need to ask. As someone with chronic health problems and also PDA (a profile of autism that is characterized by demands invoking a distress response), I worry *very* much about being doomed to be a hurtful lover because I legitimately *can't* contribute to household chores and such at least 90% of the time. And hearing about your abusive ex (who was an asshole and I'm so sorry that you had to deal with that) just makes me worry more. Do you... think that it would be possible for someone who can't contribute to household chores to be in a healthy relationship? If so, do you have any advice on pitfalls to avoid or the like...? Sorry again if this is out of line; I've been debating asking this for months probably and I just. I know this is probably hugely inappropriate, but I think... that my worry about hurting my boyfriend (who is the love of my life, very sweet, and I worry about him because he's a self-proclaimed people pleaser and worry that he doesn't tell me when I do stuff he doesn't like because of that; it's unfortunately a long distance relationship right now) is just too important. Sorry.

first off, don't worry about asking. I applaud you for taking the time to think about these tough questions. not knowing much about your exact situation I'm gonna try and make this a somewhat generic response.

the short answer? I don't believe there's any disability that precludes you from being in a healthy relationship, but you have to do 2 things:

first, contribute to the relationship in the ways that you can. the thing with my ex was, they didn't just not do chores. they contributed fuckall to the relationship in every possible way. everything from emotional support to money to help with insurance paperwork flowed overwhelmingly in one direction for 5 years. talk with your partner about what you can do to make their life easier and happier. I like to think about good relationships as communist, in a "from each according to ability, to each according to need" sort of way. my problem was I let someone set me up as the partner with all the abilities and none of the needs, which frankly, you're not gonna do to your partner if you're operating in good faith.

second, show some appreciation for the things your partner does for you. to be clear, I don't mean treat it like they're doing you a huge favour when they do the things you've agreed are their jobs. but like...I'm thinking about the day I spent four hours cleaning my ex's room while they sat on their bed doing nothing, and then they complained about how tired they were from watching me clean their room, and when I got mildly salty about them saying that, I got yelled at for two hours about how ableist I was. just like...don't do that. if your partner takes a whole afternoon to wrangle all your shit off the floor for you, maybe be like "I really appreciate that, you must be exhausted, do you wanna come cuddle and watch a movie now?"

ultimately, as long as your partner feels like they're cared for and supported how they need to be, and they're okay with caring for and supporting you in the ways you need to be, then you're gonna be fine.

[guhhhhhhhhhhh]

Oh little people in my phone, we're really in it now 😔😔