#ok rambles over its... 1 am

[cathalbravecog]

i cant forget about the time i was multitooning with archie on my other tab... i was fighting deepdiver with my friends and i jokingly wanted to bring archie along to watch, but they haven't been to BB yet, so i had to walk them there on my other tab... and guess what was the FIRST thing they saw RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM when they walked in? yep it was mary. probably mustve been scary, but! mary is a friend :] AND SO I DOODLED IT!!

what's also funny i kinda decided that bb was kinda archie's area bc of their lil' sailor hat, so it only makes sense heehee

[xxplastic-cubexx]

it doesnt need to be said but its genuinely so funny how at-the-hip charles and erik are in krakoa like they really had the green light- the OBLIGATION- to be as obnoxiously close to each other as possible and abused that right to the fullest extent

[volfoss]

the worst part of doing this analysis is i have all the scripts in front of me. but as a guy who doesnt normally look for scripts, i was kind of struggling to find things outside of the unaired pilot so poked around some threads and. inexplicably theyre all on genius.com. its a nightmare world for ME

[devotedlystrangewizard]

the corpse of king minos is very fucking big and Scary but you can parry his punches pretty easily and thats the easiest way i can explain how good ultrakill feels

[drowningincaffiene]

i put coconut oil in my hair and braid it before bed and somewhere my indian ancestors sigh in relief, happy that my good hair genetics aren't going to waste afterall

[arieslost]

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo

[boopshoops]

C'mon now, we don't HAVE to stick to one set genre. Music is about self expression!~ ...Though I wouldn't be against one-upping some competition.

Yuu Shi is strutting on down to debut as a vocalist and backup dancer for GLOWCHAIN! With eccentric flare and powerful vocals, she's here to push the boundaries of EDM and pop to new heights. After all, if it isn't experimental, it isn't her.

Part 2

Ragu Music Week is a fanevent by @raguiras!!! :D

Set to home screen: Mic check, one two!~

Groovification: ???

Home transition 1: Day three of asking Allen to let me join Hazard, no such luck as of yet. Is this how Epel feels about Savanaclaw? Maybe a bribe would work...

Home transition 2: Ohh I just love this boa! It's so cute and fluffy! Come here and touch it, it's so soft that I could use it as a pillow.

Home transition 3: No need to worry much about your performances, hon, I'll make sure to outperform you regardless! You can take that as a promise and a threat.

Home transition/Groovification: ???

Tap home 1: You think I'm getting a bit competitive over this? Hmm, Maybe, maybe. Well, this is finally my chance to show off my prowess! I didn't go to performing arts school for nothing.

Tap home 2: I'm able to keep up with Vil fine enough, but after the chaos that was VDC, I'm beginning to feel bad for my other group members... but not bad enough! Let's go again!

Tap home 3: No, no, no- That's not it. Your movements aren't big enough! You need to gesture enough for the whole crowd to see. Remember, the people in the back row want a show too. You need to hold out your arms like so!

Tap home 4: As much as I enjoy an organized, set performance, I much prefer to go with the flow. I want to get the whole audience involved in ways you haven't seen before, you know? Make it feel more authentic? It'll leave a lasting impression of me in their minds!... Oh, and the rest of GLOWCHAIN, of course.

Tap home 5: Hahaha! What, am I towering over you in these heels? Should I kneel down, is that what you'd like? What? I'm just teasing!

Tap home/Groovification: ???

Home after login: As much as I love this outfit, I could do with a little less sparkle... When the stage lights hit me and the other members, I can't help but feel like a damn disco ball. What do you think?

ALRIGHT RAMBLING TIME. Yuu shi is having a hard time abandoning her instruments for GLOWCHAIN. Therefore she takes every chance she can to be petty about it and be another headache for vil (sorry bbg). She is very jealous of Hazard/Riff due to this- but she's not letting that stop her from trying to outperform other groups or even vil himself.

As for music- I did a lot of research into KPOP i never had before KJGDSBKGJSD and I think mamamoos vibe fits Yuu Shi very well!

also I listened to the inspiration playlist, saw lady gaga, and blacked out

Charli XCX fits her more experimental style too- its her way of pushing the boundaries of the genre

KIMPETRASKIMPETRASKIMPETRAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As for dancing- ive had Royal Family brain rot lately. THEY ARE SO TALENTED AAAAAAAAAAAAA. Theyre flowy, energetic, fast paced moves fit yuu shi very well imo!!! Though she would definitely need a lot more practiced to be as organized as them sob. 3:25 in particular drives me insane:

OK RAMBLING OVER TAG TIME

@lowcallyfruity @skriblee-ksk @kitwasnothere @cecilebutcher @justm3di0cr3

@thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @the-trinket-witch @techno-danger @scint1llat3

@beneathsakurashade @twsted-canvas @qsoap @prince-kallisto

[scrumptiousstuffs]

stylefadel is soooooo boring, idk why ppl are so into them… i think is bcs is the first jd mature series, it’s their first time watching them being this bold. but since i’m really not into their stuff, i just find kind of boring their storyline, a little rushed maybe? style is already loving fadel out of nowhere … maybe i’m being biased, i just can’t live without my precious kantbison

Anon, you have the pleasure of bearing the brunt of my anger and rambling, messy thought process. I am going to use your ask to defend ALL FOUR BOYS. Ok, yes – I know 90% of the THK watchers right now loathe KB and prefers SF instead.

Firstly, I will politely disagree with your first comment that SF is boring. THK will not be the series it is WITHOUT KBSF. The relationships between these boys in the series are so intertwine that I really don’t think the series would have been as interesting if it only involves KB or SF alone.

StyleFadel:

We can at least agree that without Kant, Style’s interactions with Fadel will have ended when Style fixed Fadel’s jeep. So, Kant’s request for Style to distract Fadel was the catalyst that jump start his courtship (stalking). But here is where I will argue (because brainless worms out there blamed the current predicament of SF by the end of EP 6 to Kant alone) – Kant knows his bestie's nature. Style is bold, brash and fearless. Even after having his suspicion of Fadel’s true colour (Style was the first one who brought up to Kant that he thought Fadel is an assassin), Style remained doggedly determine to pursue Fadel. He likes the danger and thrill (and in some way, he is similar to Bison).

So, the interactions between SF organically grew from Style persistency and his inner desire to peel (both the clothes and thoughts) of our broody, handsome assassin.

In Ep 1-3, he wants to find out what makes Fadel tick. Style enjoys their cat and mouse games. Fadel, on the other hand is intrigue by this fearless, beautiful but irritating man who keeps hitting on him. As he learns more about Fadel, Style gradually likes what he knows about Fadel - the contrast between always-in-control Fadel but liking hard rock music, for example? That must be fascinating to Style.

And so, by ep 4, when he found out about Fadel's real occupation (and really, some viewers? – you blame Kant for finally telling Style?) – he is already in too deep. Fadel did offer Style a way out (during the sauna scene after they agreed to become BFs) – Fadel said along the lines that “its ok if you want to stop now” because he can read the discomfort on Style’s face. But Style clung to him (and maybe it is out of loyalty to his friendship with Kant but I’m sure most of us here will agree that he continued with the ‘charade’ because he is attracted and likes him too).

As for Fadel, whose life has been dictated ever since he lost his parents, saddled with an adopted younger brother that he may or may not want (I have no doubt he loves Bison and really, it’s Bison+Fadel against a doggy doggy world out there). Nevertheless, he has a younger brother he basically raised and sheltered from Madam Lilly (and Keen). Before Style came crashing into his car, his life was monotonous, and his body language scream exhaustion and apathy. In fact, this is one of the many reasons WHY Bison came up with the condition to Kant that he needed to win Fadel over/get someone to date Fadel (and I will fight anyone who said this). It is because Bison can see the apathy/exhaustion in Fadel. He wants Fadel to have happiness. As much as Bison is somehow naïve, the last few episodes have shown us (or at least those WHO DID NOT SKIP KB parts – yes, I am still talking to the brainless worms out there) Bison is sharp, detailed orientated (when he wants to be) and observant. He just clocked it behind that sweet, guileless smile and innocent demure look (only Khaotung can pull this off. Again, I will fight anyone who said otherwise).

So, having a beautiful man paying attention to you must be somehow flattering (albeit with stalk-ish tendencies and crossing some boundaries – cause I still haven’t forgiven Style 100% for intruding in Fadel’s grieving group sessions). Plus, a reprieved from his colourless world.

JoongDunk has brought to life as Fadel & Style respectively. This is truly their best performance to date. I enjoyed them in Hidden Agenda although I thought the script was meh. Dunk, especially has truly grown as an actor - he was a bit stiff during Hidden Agenda. However, I was impressed with his performance as White (in Summer Nights) and his current performance as the ballsy, fearless and loyal Style. Similarly, Joong brought Fadel to life - quiet and dignified but weighed by unresolved grief.

However, I will say – I think one of the reasons why people may relate to SF more than KB is that their relationship trajectory follows a somehow classic trope – we have the meet cute (or disaster) in the form of the car accident. Followed by persistent pursuing (stalking) of a sunshine, happy-go-lucky lead against the tsundere, gruff (but with a soft, romantic heart) man. And once they are together, the soft, gooey centre of the gruff man is exposed (which never fails to melt our collective hearts) while Style patiently woos this man by giving him time and attention. Plus, when it is played by gorgeous looking men in the form of JoongDunk – well, the rest is history.

KantBison:

Now, contrast this with KB. In this, I will agree with you, KB is precious – personally, I find the development of their relationship fascinating because it is complicated. The beginning of KB's relationship is marred by deception and viewers are made to guess what is genuine and not with these 2.

I suspect most people who went it likely expects classic FK chemistry to come into play immediately. However, it is a testament to FK acting skills that we can read clearly when KB are “faking it” (or at least, people who watched KB scenes and don’t skip them).

Like episode 1 – when they were strangers who had a ONS. It’s pure lust and attraction. You can feel the palpable chemistry jumping out of screen. But by the end of the episode 1 (and followed by ep 2-3), viewers (OK, me) can see Kant was essentially faking his “love” for Bison. I have no doubt he was at least a little fond of Bison. And attracted physically to him. However, the mission takes precedence and the slip up by Kant is noticeable. First is a masterclass in speaking with his eyes (and face), and the slightest twitch of his muscles or narrowing of his eyes/raised eyebrows, and you can tell what he is trying to portray in that moment.

Basically, the whole episode 1-3 (apart from when he first noticed Bison at the bowling alley and red room scene), Kant comes off as sleazy (almost desperate) as he tries to hit on Bison (who definitely clocks on the desperation). We see this when Bison keeps putting Kant off and tests Kant’s determination to pursue him to the point Kant hastily pretends most of his enthusiasm about the BDSM thing.  I suspect people who don’t vibe with KantBison probably feels the “fakeness” but can’t pinpoint on it exactly. All they know is that the KB scenes feel uncomfortable when they were meant to be that way (and why most people like SF better because their scenes are just organically more wholesome and sweeter).

However, by episode 4-5 – the cracks are starting to show. Kant caressing the trophy he won with Bison and noticing the Northern Lights photos on Bison’s wall even as he frantically tries to find evidence while Bison slumbers on. But I think it truly dawned on him that Bison is more than just a “ruthless killer” (which I suspect is how Captain Christ painted it to Kant) when Bison without hesitation helped with the whole “Babe being bullied at school” scenario. Kant noticing Bison has a soft spot for children/animals and loves drawing give dimensional to this beautiful man who finally allows Kant in his heart.

**I am also going to point out that Bison himself is exhausted and depressed. He puts up a cheery front, but he is burnout/fatigue from all the killings. The comment (in Ep 6) when he said Kant was the reason he can wake up every morning and get through the day really shows how miserable he was previously. His life was meaningless and while he has an older brother he loves, Bison and Fadel are not exactly on the same wavelength in terms of communication.

Anyway, I am digressing. By ep 5-6, we see Kant alternating feeling blissful and guilty depending on whether it’s Bison in his mind or Captain Christ reminding him what is at stake (and to the brainless worms out there – IT’S BABE, you know, his younger brother who he has been parenting since he was a teenager barely out of high school). Like any good parents out there, he puts his child first (unless we have the classic K-drama trope where evil parents are in abundance). Time after time, he chooses Babe over his heart, desire and soul. We know Kant sacrificed his future because of Babe. He became a car thief to feed Babe. He agreed to work with the devil Captain Christ because of Babe, doing the police dirty works multiple times because of the threat he can lose Babe’s custody anytime he disobeys the police.

This is where I will argue, Kant is very similar to Fadel. Just like Fadel, Kant was never given a choice. Just like Fadel, he also has a younger brother he loves and want to protect. He must become a police informant if he wants to keep Babe. He must become selfish and use dirty tricks for Babe’s sake – choosing his survival so that Babe won’t be left alone to fend for himself. And Babe knows this – hence why he never told Kant in the first place about the bullying and why he pointed out to Kant that he will soon get a scholarship for his education so that he doesn’t have to rely on Kant’s tattooing money. And why Babe is so encouraging about his relationship with Bison because he can see Kant is happier when Bison is around. Style who knows Kant the best (as his closest friend) also clocks on this – he pointed out Bison has Kant wrapped around his fingers. Style himself asked whether Kant can truly give up on Bison (ep 6).

**Isn’t it fascinating that in any other given series, police informants and police officers are considered “good” while hitmen will be labelled immediately “bad”. But with THK, Kant is the evillest one (yes, I am still bitter with the brainless worms who throw shades to Kant) for becoming a police informant to keep Babe’s custody?

Again, I am digressing. By ep 6 – Kant has developed true feelings for Bison. He tried to get out of the deal with Captain Christ. Yet again, the devil brought up Babe. And as I have mentioned before, he cannot give up Babe.

The romantic date at the bowling alley was bittersweet – again, it is testament to FK as actors that you can feel the contrast of their feelings. A hopeful, new beginning from Bison’s part but a wistful (of what this relationship could have become) plus a farewell from Kant. I bet he feels even worse when he realises Bison threw away his mission to save Babe. The argument he gave Style to “move on” from Fadel is also a reminder for himself to do the same.

But what do we see him do next? – he accompanied Style the very next day to visit the burger joint and adopt Nong Kitty, Bison’s beloved black cat into his household. If Style shows up every day to the burger joint as a coping mechanism while he hopes for Fadel to show up, we see Kant pining away and drowning his sorrow by drinking in his friend’s bar. So, when that exact moment as Bison said his name in the bar – you could see a mixture of relieve, hope, wariness and tinged with guilt.

Having said all of these, I am absolutely wrecked by the end of Ep 6. I am devastated for all 4 boys – our 2 assassin brothers who feel betrayed (and again, I am going to point out to viewers out there who are angry at Bison for “assuming” Style is in a cahoots with Kant). Why shouldn’t Bison feel that way? – all he knows is Style is Kant’s best friend who Kant asked to seduce Fadel. Nobody in the right mind will think Style said yes because he wanted Kant’s car. Bison, out of everyone has the right to feel the sadness, rage and anger towards both Kant and (by default Style). He gave his heart to Kant, vouched for him in front of Fadel and only wanted to feel love/wanted. He must also feel somehow responsible because he indirectly brought Style into Fadel’s life.

But equally, I am devastated for Kant who (out of all 4) is trapped – he is damned either way. Captain Christ is still hot on his tails and now, Bison is out for revenge. Similarly, for Style, who is truly just happy to have Fadel back in his life while Fadel currently thinks the worst of him. And oh Fadel, my heart breaks when I see his quiet, resigned look like he expected Style to betray him.

So yeah, I am currently coping by thinking about these 2 pictures (from Joong's OST - Hurt Me Please MV) because these show our weary assassins being relax, safe and comforted in the arms of their lovers (and that's how I like my four boys to be, thank you very much)

[fallenprophets]

How can I make it OK?

Arthur Morgan x reader

PART 1 🌀 PART 2

Summary : you're homesick.

gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, not explicitly romantic unless you wanna read it that way, 3K words

Warnings : swearing, mentions of suicide, panic attack described in semi detail, not the jolliest thing i've ever written

A/N : first post that's actually writing in 2025 ! wrote most of this on the train while listening to house in nebraska by ethel cain and more than this by wolf alice so yeah. also this isn't arthur heavy in the sense that it's reader rambling about being homesick mostly. to be read in a southern accent as god intended

Of all the places I have travelled with the Van Der Linde gang, I think this is my least favourite. 

Living- or rather, camping- in the ruins of some plantation, bodies of the former owners stagnating in the pond. Sometimes I hear ‘em- the ghosts, in the walls, screamin’. I know it’s my mind, playing tricks on me; but it’s harder to have that rational thought when you’re lying alone in the middle of the night, wind whistling through broken windows. It’s not that I don’t like having a roof over my head. Shit, everyone in this godforsaken gang is happy to have a real shelter from the weather, even one as flimsy as this house. So I shut my mouth, hunt as I’m expected-which is what I am doing now, borrowed bow over my shoulder, quiver resting comfortingly between my shoulder blades. 

Hunting is familiar. Back in the Grizzlies, where my daddy raised me, we’d go out any time of day, in any weather, hunt for the coming storms. I’d do everything the way he taught me to- lay out traps, wait behind a boulder, bow in hand. It builds patience, he told me when I asked why the hell we didn’t just track the damn animal, instead of waitin’ in the cold for it to find us. 

Now, it’s not cold, and dear old daddy ain’t here to help. 

I left my horse hitched by a lake, with enough grass for him to be fed and well until I bring back something worthy of Pearson. It’s near sunrise; already, the heat is uncomfortable; my skin is sticky, my clothes uncomfortable. It’s moments like these that I long for the snow. 

I wipe my forehead with the back of my head. I’ve been walking for a little while now, waiting for a pack of deer to pass by. There’s something that bothers me about killing them- maybe it’s their eyes, so big and brown, caught frozen as they stare at you. Or maybe it’s their resemblance to this little girl I knew, at a local village at the base of the mountain where I grew up. 

I shake the thought of her big brown eyes and twitchy nose as I spot a herd of ‘em, grazing near a small stream. There’s enough light for me to count them- seven, big enough to feed us. 

I get on one knee, like my daddy taught me. Notch an arrow in the bow, pull it back. One of the poor animals raises its head, looks in my direction. 

Before I can hesitate, I let go, and the arrow flies; a fraction of a second later, it has notched itself in the animal’s throat. It falls; its friends, the rest of its herd (its gang, I think, almost laughing) scamper off, into the woods. I don’t go after them. Pearson will have to do with this, and whatever herbs or mushrooms I’m able to pick up. 

The doe is dead by the time I reach her. I kneel. Pull the arrow from her neck; thick, sticky blood gets on my hands. I almost reach for snow, to clean it off; curse myself when my fingertips meet grass and mud. The doe’s dead eye stares up at me, brown and empty as the sky. I resist the urge to close them. 

“Sorry, sweet.” I whisper it as I hoist her up, put her over my shoulder. She’s heavy. I must be getting blood on my shirt- it’s a shame, because it’s my favourite colour, and I’ve just bought it. 

I swallow any regrets I feel as I walk back to my horse, the weight of the doe uncomfortable against my bow and quiver. 

You’re the reason she won’t come home, a little voice whispers in my head. I stop, then, because my chest is tightening and I can’t really breathe. I say something incoherent. The fields around me are empty- it’s just me and this doe. 

I drop her into the mud and loosen my shirt, gasping for air. I want cold, I want crisp mountain air; not this thick, humid, barely-air that clogs my throat and makes my lungs heavy. 

I dig my fingers into the mud and grass, as I would have done in the snow, back home. Home. What a weird thought. I catch the dead doe’s eye again, and that’s when the tears come, thick and hot and nasty, blurring my vision. So stupid, I think, as I force myself to stare at her. She- no, it- is just an animal. She doesn’t have a home, not the way I did. Do. 

I think of crying out for help, but that’s pathetic, and I’m a lot of things, but pathetic ain’t one of them. 

I think I stay there, on my knees, fingers deep in the mud, for a long time- when my vision clears again and I’ve stopped gasping for air, the sky is clear, clear blue, no traces of sunrise left. If I focus hard enough on it, I can almost pretend I’m back in the mountains. 

I get up, teeth digging into my tongue to prevent any new feelings from resurfacing. I’m not in the goddamn mountains. All that’s left for me there is two frozen bodies deep beneath the snow, and a hut that’s probably been raided or taken over by some other gang. 

I pick the doe up, this time careful to avoid looking at her face. Its face. It’s an animal, not my goddamn sister. 

I make it back to my horse without another incident; strap the doe across his back and climb onto his saddle. His name is Coal, ‘cause of the colour o’ him- black and charcoal grey, a streak of white down his face. 

“Hey, boy,” I murmur to him as I flick the reigns. My voice is shaky, hoarse; it’s obvious that I’ve been crying. 

Coal begins to trot back to camp. I think of changing direction, of going to Rhodes, clear my thoughts. But I gotta bring this back to Pearson, or he’ll skin me. 

The camp is still there when I return, which is a relief. I don’t think I’ll forget the moment when I came back after a hunt and found everyone gone, everything burned to the ground. 

I shiver at the memory and get off Coal. “I’ll come ‘nd fix your saddle later,” I say to him, scratching his neck. He grunts, in a tone I hope is affectionate. I remove the doe, put her back over my shoulder. Make it to Pearson’s stand, where he’s angrily chopping vegetables. 

“Hey,” I say, dropping the doe in front of him. I angle her head- her eyes- away from me. “Got some meat.” 

“I can see that,” is Pearson’s kind answer. 

I ignore him and walk away again, into the derelict house we’ve been callin’ home for the last few weeks. My room is on the top floor; I wish I shared it with someone, but I got lucky (Dutch’s words) and got my own, private room. 

I tug off my bloodstained shirt and drop it on the floor. There’s nothin’ to be done about my trousers- they’re the only pair I’ve got (the others have just been washed, and hang soaking wet outside) and I don’t plan on walking around bare-legged. 

I change quickly. Sit down on the bed, stare at the wall. 

I don’t know how long I stay like that; starin’ at the peeling wallpaper, trying to pretend it’s the same white as the snow I used to see out my window. Obviously, the pretendin’ don’t work, because it’s not the snow, it’s a crumbling fuckin’ wall in a crumbling fuckin’ house. I stand, take a deep breath in (of hot, hot, humid, thick air), push it out. It ain’t cleansing- I don’t feel better once I’ve tasted the surrounding bogs- but it’s enough to calm my heartbeat, and make me feel somewhat human again. 

For the rest of the day, I help around camp, doing stupid, mind-numbing tasks. I try not to think of the mountains, and how much better than this godforsaken swamp they were. People talk to me, and I answer, polite and all. I eat Pearson’s stew, listen to another grandiose speech about Dutch’s plan (or, as far as I’m concerned, concepts of a plan). I finally find a moment of quiet sitting on a log, staring out at the swamp. Not the prettiest sight; all brown and green, with hints of yellow dust. 

I’m alone for only a few minutes before I hear footsteps. I turn, and find Arthur approaching, taking his cigarette packet from his satchel. I shift on the log I’m sitting on, making the split second decision that his company is something I want right now. 

He sits next to me, silently. Offers me a cigarette (I decline with a shake of my head and a wave of my hand) then lights his own with a match. He stays quiet for a little while, blowing smoke from his mouth, tinting the world blue and grey. 

It’s strange, sitting next to him. He don’t mind being quiet; seems to like my company well enough, ‘cause he keeps coming back here to smoke. 

He’s the one who found me, all that time ago, on a solo hunt in the Grizzlies. It was at the edge of the mountains, where it starts to get warmer; where the sun melts away most of the snow. Was from Blackwater, he said- I asked if I could go back with him. Promised I’d leave ‘em all alone when I got there, I just needed a job, as far from my daddy’s corpse as I could get. He’d said yes, maybe reluctantly. 

Turns out, I’d found somethin' better than a job. Not quite a family, but a gang, people to rely on, people to distract me from the emptiness created by my father’s death. I suppose it’s these people keeping me here, in this swampy nowhere, sweating my socks off. Here, I’ve got people- back in the mountains, I’ve got two dead bodies and an empty house. 

My chest tightens again, and wordlessly, I take the cigarette from Arthur’s hand, take a long drag. I hand it back, still silent, and dig my fingernails into my knuckles. 

“You miss home?” Arthur asks me, his words marked by the smoke curling from his mouth. I take the cigarette from his fingers again, press it between my teeth, inhale ‘till I can blame the burning in my eyes on the smoking rather than whatever has grabbed hold of me; whatever old, buried feeling I’d thought long gone had chosen to make an appearance. Guess it must be more obvious than I thought, that I’m feelin’ odd, ‘cause he clearly smelled it on me. 

“I don’t know, I guess,” I say, softly, fiddling with the dirty fabric of my trousers as I hand the cigarette back; as if I don’t know the answer, as if I haven’t spent half my goddamn life thinking about this. I exhale, blowing out smoke from my nose.  “Never really thought about it.” The lie burns in my throat, so thick I can hardly breathe. 

It’s not the stability that I miss. The weather in the Grizzlies was nothin’ permanent, not in any sense- one minute it’s a blizzard, the next you’re standing staring at the bright blue sky, knee deep in snow. I guess it’s the wolves howling, it’s the comfort of a fire as wind rattles against the window panes; it’s even the way the stars look after three days holed up inside. There’s no one thing I miss or don’t miss- I just know I miss it, so much that my chest tightens at the thought. 

When my daddy got shot, three- no, four- years ago, I thought the one answer was to leave that place behind; pack up my clothes and go out into the Wild Wild West, make my own future away from the smell of his freshly dug grave, right next to my mama’s frozen bones. And when I came across Arthur, and later his gang of gung-ho outlaws, who seemed ready to take on the world, I thought that was it- my life was set. 

But I don’t like the constant moving like I used to. It don’t feel like adventure anymore; it feels like escaping, like we’re always running from something. 

“I don’t…” I hesitate, reach up to dig my nails into the dip of my collarbone, try to dig the feeling out, hold it up to the light to examine it. “I guess it’s different.” A veiled confession. Away from the Grizzlies (away from home) it’s hot, stiflingly so; I can’t climb onto my horse without breaking a sweat. It’s already too warm by the time the sun rises- clothes sticking to your skin uncomfortably, flies buzzing above, drowning in the smell of swampy nothingness as soon as your eyes open. I don’t hate it- it has become familiar, but familiar in the way the weight of a revolver at my hip has become familiar; the way the constant paranoia that clogs my throat has become familiar. 

“Different how?” 

Another pause, as I scuff the yellow dust ground with the toe of my boot. Different in a whole lotta ways, I want to tell him; even the colour of the sky isn’t quite the same back home. 

Home. I think of the snow as I stare at the yellowed leather of my shoes. Where there’s snow and wolves and no people to shoot at you unless you really look for it. 

“I don’t know,” I say, even though my whole body knows; it courses through me, the knowledge that a few days ride away is the mountains, and the snow. “It just is.”

The answer dissatisfies him, I think. “C’mon,” he says in that gruff voice of his. “You gotta be able to find one difference between here and the goddamn Grizzlies.” 

“’S warmer,” I say, the words followed by a short, slightly forced laugh. “Don’t snow as much.” 

He snorts, shaking his head. “Alright,” he responds, maybe a little condescendingly. “Think o’ anything else?” 

“You got less wolves down here,” I add, after a few moments. I don’t say that I miss the sound of them howling; that when I close my eyes, I try to picture it, try to pretend I’m back there instead of here. 

“Alright.” He says it kinder this time, like we’re getting somewhere. 

“The sky looks different.” I dig my fingers in deeper. He offers me the cigarette; I take it, repurpose the burning in my throat. The smoke flickers around me as I exhale. “It’s- clearer, up there. More blue.” Here, the sky is tinted almost yellow. It ain’t ugly, but it ain’t home. 

He doesn’t answer, now, staring out at the swamps. I don’t know how he feels about this place- about Rhodes, and the foreignness of Saint Denis, with its factories and smoke and cobbled roads. I wonder if he misses home- if he ever had one to begin with. “I guess I do miss it,” I say, to fill the silence more than anything. “But… I don’t know, I don’t think I wanna go back.” Alone is the word I don’t add. I think- maybe- if I had the gang, my new family, I’d go back to the Grizzlies. After we escaped Blackwater, and hid out in that abandoned town up in the mountains; that was the happiest I’d been for a long time. 

But alone isn’t something I want to be. Not the way I was alone, the few weeks after my father passed- just me and the freshly dug grave, me and the wolves, me and the gun that killed him, sittin’ on the table, an unwanted temptation. 

“I don’t wanna be alone again.” It comes out soft, hoarse, pathetic, the words grating in my throat, like sandpaper on my tongue. 

It’s true. Yes, home is in the mountains; I know that now, when my chest clenches at the simple thought of the snow. But home is also with these people- with Arthur, and Mary-Beth, and Pearson, and the rest of them. Hell, even Kieran, the O’Driscoll boy, has become home, in a way. Home is not just the place where I grew up (the place where my daddy now lies); home is also the people that have become my family; who have embraced me so kindly and warmly. I know deep in my stomach that if I were to leave now, take a horse back to the hut, I’d end up like my daddy, a bullet in my head and a gun in my hand. 

He did it ‘cause he was lonely. So lonely that even I wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling the trigger. Lived in the mountains his whole life, but he had my mama then, and his parents. I guess fifty years of snow and not much else can drive you insane. 

My hand goes to my temple; I dig my fingers into the skin, right where I found the bullet in his head. 

“Y’won’t be,” he responds gruffly. He’s finished his cigarette, and yet he’s not made any attempt to get up, leave me with my thoughts. I snort, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. 

“Don’t know that,” I say. “With the Pinkertons on our asses, ‘nd all.” It’s meant to be lighthearted, but it comes out quiet, rough. 

“Yeah, but they’ve always been on our asses.” He puts a hand on my leg; it engulfs my entire knee. “Tell you what.” He hesitates, clearin’ his throat a little. Squeezes my knee. “I’ll take you huntin’, once a week- or twice, or less, if you want.” 

“I go huntin’ anyway,” I answer. “Not in the mountains, y’don’t.” My chest both tightens and loosens at the same time. I swallow; my heart is thumping in my chest. I put my hand to my collarbone again, digging my nails in. “C’mon, it’ll do you good. Cold air and all that.” 

I know there’s a deeper meaning to that. Cold air- he’s giving me the chance to go home, and not by myself. Even if it’s not for long, it’s enough- to feel the snow again, to hear the wolves. Maybe once I’ll camp overnight, ride back to camp in the morning. The idea fills me with hope- a feeling we’re all starved of, these days. 

“Really?” Is all I manage to croak out. 

“What, you don’t wanna?”

I laugh, and it’s genuine this time. “No, I- I wanna.”

“Alright then.” He gives my knee a last squeeze, then stands. I stand with him, smooth my shirt with the flat of my hand. “Tomorrow then?” Tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. I’d sing, if my throat weren’t so damn tight. My eyes sting, and I wipe at my nose with my hand. 

“Thank you,” I say, quietly. He don’t respond, but he nods, and I think maybe he smiles a little. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll get to take a piece of my new home to the place I grew up- someone I love, to the place that holds my heart. 

I watch him walk away; and suddenly, the humidity don’t feel so bad anymore. 

[0mysteiarchives]

One-Time Collaboration..? • Idol!Reader x Robin

A/N: somewhat modern au??? I mean robin just works under a company and thats it also unfortunately no Sunday mention i'm sorry gang but I swear I am a loyal wife with my 160+ pulls for these two- warnings: a closed off and slightly oblivious reader that adapted to their environment , random fluff from an op who just dropped angst yesterday , somewhat?? affectionate robin in your area , and a RUSHED ASS WORK-

• So your manager called in the middle of your practice session and explained that you’ll be having a collaboration with Pena.Co’s precious angel: Robin. She actually debuted 4 months after you did, and in all honesty she's definitely surpassed you with her amazing voice. And with a pretty face like hers, everyone talked about her .

• Just like they reacted with your debut.

• You thought that she’d be another like those idols you had worked with who put on a loving and lively attitude to their fans, and be an absolute bitch off stage when no ones watching. That’s how everything works in this industry after all, everyone just wants the money and attention.

• So the first time you met you merely gave dry responses, you didn’t mean to be rude but you just wanted this over with. Any questions she asked was met with one word or sentence.

Obviously your management didn’t like that attitude. Oh well.

• Yet somehow that didn’t stop Robin from trying to talk to you. She doesn’t seem bothered at the fact that you’re trying to push her away, and you could feel the eagerness to have a proper conversation.

...why???

• You pretty much gave up ignoring the idol and finally decided to talk to her properly as you turned around to face her and give your name, eventually you two became close friends.

• Sorry, did I say close? I meant reeeaaallly, really close.

• In a span of 3 weeks, Robin seems to be quite open to complimenting you. You'd be practicing your choreo or vocals and she'll be showering you with compliments that would leave you a flustered mess.

• In the next month, she invites you to small things that you're interested in. A certain movie you wanted to watch? She'll ask you to join her to watch it in a VIP area. A new restaurant that peaked your interest recently? Consider a room for just the two of you reserved. What a nice friend!

• How does she excuse these peaceful, romantical moments of being in each other's prescence without interruption from rabid fans or thirdwheeling staff? Just a personal hangout between two idols to know about each other more!

• But if it's just a hangout..why do you feel your heart beating faster when places her hand on yours? When she gives you a sweet smile that's only for you? When she wraps her arms around your waist to engulf you into a surprise hug? When-

• ..Ok bro I think you're in love, just saying.

• ..Oh shit you're in love with Penacony's rising idol.

• ...Good taste.

• Now this can go two ways: You silently accept that Robin might never reciprocate your feelings, or you confront her about it and reach a conclusion you've fallen for her charm.

• Oh wow! It turns out she requested to have a partnership with you because she fell in love at first sight since your first appearance on the stage. She followed your footsteps and tried to get closer and hoped you'd feel the same way about her.

• Whilst Robin was rambling and basically confessing her mutual love for you with red cheeks and held your hands gently, you just stared into her eyes.

• That's kinda cute...

• Wait what was that last part?— —

A/N: guys ik its rushed im sorry its like 1 am rn usiadfsdlkji

Btw there's going to be a pt 2 and here's some future works soon: -HoV!Reader meeting HSR!Himeko -Found Family with the Nameless -Modern AU Skating // Sparkle , Acheron , Robin , Sunday , Firefly , Adventurine -Guardian Angel!Robin and Sunday x reader -Genshin!Reader sent to the hsr universe -Streamer!AU // Adventurine , Sunday , Sparkle Shii that's kinda alot ermmmm... idc anymore goodnight gang :sob:

[spideycatt]

Cat and Mouse || 42!M.M x BlackFem!R

some teacher x teacher luvvvv

Synopsis:

In which your students try to figure out if their favorite teachers have something going on

Word count: 1.1k

Part 2!!

Now playing: Cat and Mouse // Black Swan, Melt // Kehlani, Childs play // Drake

Warnings: Some cursing, BLACK reader, Miles and R are married and have a child!!!, nun else this is nice n soft

Not rlly warnings: Reader is called Moss by miles, use of “Ms. Y/n” by students, Reader and Miles are young teachers at Visions (Miles teaches physics/ general science, Reader teaches art), kind of 3+1 things

I.

The school bell rang loudly, signaling lunch time was over.

“Alright, Moss. I’m out,” He spoke making his way to the door and pausing to turn to you. “You still down for Chinese for dinner?”

You look up, giving him a small smile. “Yea, I’ll see you later?”

Miles nodded with a smile of his own, walking out the door and immediately scolding some students.

“Aye! Stop eating each others faces and let’s go.”

You shake your head chuckling, bringing your own class into your room.

“Alright guys who should we listen to now.. I’m feeling some SZA, what y’all think?” You asked your class, opening the windows to let some natural light in.

Everyone settled back into their work pretty quickly, enjoying the calming melody of the music moving around the room. You were about to get back into grading before spotting one of your students looking at you like they had a burning question to ask.

“Wassup?” You snap them out of their daze, making them laugh nervously.

“O-oh! Its nothing Ms. y/n…” They rush out, looking down at their canvas.

“Nuh-uh c’mon say whats on your mind.”

They swallowed thickly.

“I… I was just wondering if you and Mr.Morales hung out often, uhm.. for some reason.”

“And what makes you think that?” You asked surprised, this was truly out of nowhere.

Another student spoke up, not as shy as the first. “Well I did hear him ask if you guys were eating together for dinner, are you guys dating?”

“Yea! And you guys eat lunch together all the time!” Someone else shouted, more kids joining in on this mini-interrogation.

You laugh at that, huffing out as your sat down at your desk.

“Man y’all some nosy ass kids…”

“Is that a yes, Ms. y/n?” They retorted, making everyones eyes light up in anticipation.

“No. It’s not,” You gave them a pointed look.

Groans filled the class as everyone got back to their projects with no more questions.

II.

Couple weeks later, your students start to get skeptical again.

It was winter now, snowfall heavy and merciless, making everyone miserably cold. And man did you hate the cold. You seemed to have lost your sweater somewhere, walking around to surveillance your class while hugging yourself. You were going to thug it out, but decided freezing to death right before winter break wasn’t worth it.

“Guys I’ll be right back.” You spoke to your class, stepping out and going next door, Miles’ classroom. You open the door shivering, catching the attention of everyone in the room.

“Sorry to interrupt!! Really I am,” you ramble, walking to Miles’ desk, ignoring all the kids staring at you. “Bab- erm, Miles- ugh-“ you stumble over your words, why was it so much colder in here than in your room?

“Wassup, Moss?” He looked up at your shaking form, before telling the kids to get back to work. Of course, they didn’t listen.

“C-cold…”

He tsked at you. “Why are you always so forgetful,” He muttered, stripping himself of his jacket to place it on your shaking frame. “I’ll get you new one later ok?” He placed his hand on your waist, guiding you out the door.

You step back into your class, already starting to feel warmer.

—

“Aye, Mr. Morales?” Someone called out.

“Hm?”

“Why do you call Ms. y/n, Moss?”

He froze at that, not knowing how to answer at first, since the origin of the nickname wasn’t exactly school-appropriate. He just decided to go with the simple version.

“Nickname from when we went to college.”

But he didn’t expect the class to go crazy. They bombarded him with questions, one after the next about his college life.

“How long have you guys known each other?”

“What was Ms. y/n like in college?”

“Was college fun?”

“Wait that was only a couple years ago right?”

“Why does she get to wear your jacket?”

“Girl that man don’t want your childish ass…”

“Are y’all datingg?~”

He sighed and smiled at his class’ antics, letting them get their questions out. They quiet down as quickly as they started getting loud, looking at their teacher expectantly.

“Why y’all thought I was gonna answer any of those, I don’t know.” He shrugged, ignoring the class’ second uproar.

“Aht aht, none of that. I want those work sheets in my hand by the end of class c’mon.”

III.

“If you don’t get your big headed as- self out my classroom..” You rubbed a hand over your face, trying to hide your smile.

It was now spring, humidity through the roof as the leaves start growing on trees again.

“Nah, I don’t think I will. The kids love me. Right?”

He smirks as the kids agree with him.

Of course he wants to bother you during his free period.

“Anyone wanna hear some embarrassing college stories about Mrs. y/n?” He asked the class, earning more cheers.

He spent the class conversing with the kids and pestering you, but not to the point where you were actually mad at him.

“Mr. Morales, it’s almost time to go, get ya butt out my class.” You try again, earning fake cries from the class.

“Mhmm you lucky someone calling me right now. Bye yall!” He chuckled, taking his leave.

A student notice something falling out his pocket as he took his phone out, standing up to get it. Huh, a polaroid.

“Uh, Miss? Mr. Morales dropped this,” She said, inspecting it before handing it to you. “Who’s that?” She continued, pointed at the lady next to Miles with her face covered.

You raise your eyebrow at her, smiling. “Why, got a crush on ‘im?”

A ring of ‘oooo’s erupt from the rest of the class.

“W-what?! No! She just, actually…” The girl pauses, looking at the picture even closer. “She kind of looks like you…”

A second round of ‘oooo’s.

“You’re severely mistaken, everyone start packing up. I’m ready to go.”

+ I.

It was a little later in the school-year, today being take your child to work day.

You leave the teacher’s lounge with your daughter Meadow in hand. The kids’ lunchtime ended a few minutes prior, so they should be outside the classroom by now.

You make your way to your class, letting everyone coo over Meadow before Miles’ door opens up. He walks out, dapping up some of his students who are passing by, looking over the crowd of students surrounding you.

You smooth out Meadow’s dress, answering a student’s question before your daughter screeches out a cute “Papà!”

The students surrounding you gasp, looking to where she was reaching out to.

Meadow climbed down your arms and scurried through the legs of all the teenagers as they watched her. Jaws dropping as she clings to Miles’ legs excitedly. He smiled at Meadow, picking her up and kissing her forehead.

“Hey my lil’ princess, get tired of Mommy yet?”

“WHAT?!?”

kkuet.

[Lowkey wanna do a p2. backstory typa thing. Idk how i feel about this one tho so lmk!!!]

[wifeofwandamaximoff]

Heyy got some silly recs if you like, it's just angst where wanda forget r's birthday like r was really looking forward to it because wands promised reader they'd go camping on her birthday but wanda forgot, fluff at the end though, thank you so much. Love youu😚

Authors Note: I loved this request and I had so much fun writing this. Its a small one shot. Im so sorry that it came out later than expected. I just had a lot of things going on at the moment. But im hoping to at least release 1-3 fics on Thanksgiving since I have the week off from school.

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Fluff at the end.

I woke up to see that the bed was empty. I then quickly smiled and remembered it was my 26th birthday. I got up and put on a sun dress. It was a white dress with blue flowers on it, it stopped at my mid thighs. I then brushed my hair and went downstairs too see Natasha in the kitchen.

"Little Spider! Happy Birthday! Oh god ur growing up so fast." She pouted at the last part. I rolled my eyes at her words.

"Thanks Natty but where's Wands?" I then asked since I haven't seen her all morning.

"I think she's on a mission but its only gone be a few more hours until she gets home." Natasha told me with a smile.

"Oh ok" , I said with a sad smile. I then quickly made myself some hot chocolate while Natasha was rambling to me about Maria.

"Hey is Yelena coming over today?" I suddenly then asked her. Natasha then stopped her rambling and thought for a moment.

"Well duh, its ur birthday and im sure she is gonna bring a shit ton of vodka." Natasha said while rolling her eyes. I chuckled. Yelena has been giving me vodka for every one of my birthdays for 9 years now.

"Mm well im gonna go out. Text me when Wanda's back!" I shouted before I left the compound.

Hours later im still roaming the streets of Manhattan. I then suddenly get a text from Wanda asking where I am. Its now 7pm and I have realized an hour ago that Wanda forgot my birthday.

I didn't reply back to her and I kept roaming the streets. I then saw a ice cream stand and I decided to treat myself one more time for the night since I bought quite a lot of clothing.

I then ordered a strawberry cheesecake ice cream and started to make my way back to the compound. I then felt a presence approaching me.

Wanda then landed right in front of me. I then stopped walking and stared at her while eating my ice cream.

"Why weren't u answering my texts?" She questioned me immediately when she landed in front of me. I just kept eating my ice cream while staring at her.

"And why are u dressed up?" She asked while looking at me in my sun dress with multiple bags on my wrists while holding an ice cream. I just kept eating my ice cream while looking at her.

"Look at the date." I said while still munching on my ice cream. She then pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked her calendar. Her eyes then widened when she saw what today was.

"Oh detka im so sorry!" She then hugged me. Once she pulled away she took the bags off my wrist and dragged me towards some shops. My almost finished ice cream then dropped onto the ground making me a bit sad.

"Sorry detka ill buy u another one later." She said before dragging me into a store. After she finished dragging me into about 13 different stores we then were on our way back home.

"Wands u bought too much." I said while I was on her back. She then shook her head.

"There is no such thing, plus this is my apology for forgetting ur birthday and going on a mission while I could've been spending time with u and celebrating ur birthday." She said with a sad smile.

We then arrived back at the compound where everyone was waiting for us and set up a movie night for my birthday.

"Im gonna go change ill be right back." I said before taking all the bags and carrying them upstairs. I then arrived at our shared room and set all the bags on the bed and changed into some sweats. I then tied my hair in a bun before going downstairs to join the rest of the team.

"Little Spider! I brought us some vodka!" Yelena shouted when she saw me coming down.

"Its 9pm Lena! She is not drinking!" Natty scolded her. She then grumbled before setting the 9 bottles of vodka on the counter. I then run up to Lena and hug her.

"Dont worry we'll drink some when they are all asleep." I said with a cheeky smile. I then let go of her before I settled in between Wanda and Natty. Lena on Nat's other side.

"Can we watch Harry Potter?" I asked the whole team which they quickly agreed too. The TV then switched onto the first movie. I then snuggled into Wanda.

"Natty yelled at u for forgetting my birthday didn't she?" I quietly asked Wanda. She then turned to me. Hugging me tightly.

"You know damn well she did detka." She said with a timid voice. She was so scared of Natty it made me laugh every time she got yelled at.

"Even though u forgot my birthday im still glad I got to spend some of it with u Wanda." I said with a soft smile.

She then softly kissed me on the lips before going back to watch Harry Potter.

Once she turned away I was smiling like a kid in a candy store. I then cuddled into her before going back to watch Harry Potter. Best 26th birthday ever.

[pretend-theres-a-name-here]

Hide Your Heart pt.4

Part four of the Steve Harrington has bad parents au. I would’ve posted this last night but I past out right after finishing the chapter in an daze of insomnia

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Steve had been up for hours, waiting for his parents to come back. Maybe he was right and they were never coming back. What if they had just packed up and taken off without a goodbye? It wouldn’t be the first time they’d done that, making excuses about flight times and scheduling errors. 

He decided to clean the kitchen, like he always did when he was stressed. It was three in the morning, he was standing on top of the counter to dust the overly complicated light fixture in the kitchen, when the front door banged open. He heard a shrill cackle and the sound of furniture being jostled around. They were drunk, of course they were fucking drunk. He was just about to hop down off the counter when his mother stumbled into the kitchen.

“Wha-h-what’re you doin’ on the cowter, Steven?” She snorted, falling against the table and slouching her head down to lay on it.

“Nothing, mother. You should get to bed.” He got down, taking her arm to guide her up the stairs. His father was passed out on the couch, he would have to keep his call with Eddie quiet.

“Oh, Stevie, you would’ve loved the dessert!”

 Steve’s stomach dropped, he tried to pay attention to her rambling but he couldn’t listen to her gush about the chocolate cake because his mother hadn’t called him Stevie since the first trip they took. He was 8 years old, she had wrapped him in her arms and whispered how much she would miss him and how it would be over before he knew it into his hair. She had held his hand until she had to get in the car and the nanny had to pull him back. She was losing consciousness, words slurring as she drifted and her head hit the pillow with a snore.

Steve sat a cup of water on her bedside, alongside tylenol for when she woke up, he pressed his lips to her forehead on his way out, “Goodnight, mother.” He whispered before closing the door.

He dragged a kitchen chair over to where the phone hung on the wall, slumping into it as he put in Eddie’s number. It wasn’t until he was listening to the faint click on the receiving end that he remembered his father snoring on the couch. It was too late to hang up, so he resigned himself to whispering and praying that his father didn’t wake up in a drunken stupor.

“Mh’ello?” Eddie’s voice mumbled sleepily.

Steve breathed out, a sigh of guilt, “Hi, I can call later if—”

“Stevie,” Eddie’s voice filled with warmth and Steve bit back a grin, there were no bittersweet memories that plagued his mind when Eddie said the name, “always up to talk to you, sweetheart.”

“Are you sure?” He whispered, already preparing to make himself hang up.

“I promise.” Eddie said it so sincerely, sounding genuinely happy that he called, who was Steve to argue?

“Ok,” It was so quiet, barely a word, Steve wasn’t sure if he spoke it or if it was his breath that formed the word of its own accord.

“Is there a reason we’re whispering?” Eddie asked, playing along anyway. Steve could hear the playful smirk in his voice. What he wouldn’t give to see it in person.

“My father’s asleep on the couch.” Steve told him.

Eddie hummed, “Trouble in paradise?”

“Try too drunk to make it through the front door.”

“Yeesh,” Eddie mumbled, “you gonna be okay over there?”

“I’ll be fine, s’long as he doesn’t wake up.”

He hears Eddie’s big, dramatic gasp, “Risking it for little ole me, Harrington?” And it sounds joking but Steve knows, he knows that Eddie knows it’s not a joke.

“The things I do for you,” he shoots back anyway, because he’s delusional. Because maybe he wishes it could be just a joke. Because he’ll take the humor when he can.

Eddie’s tone changes then, more concerned, “It’s almost one am, Stevie, you planning on sleeping tonight?”

“You know I can’t.” He sighs.

“You should at least try. It’ll be easier to get through the week if you’re not falling asleep at the wheel.”

“I don’t even know if they’re going to be here for a week.” He paused, falling quiet, “Is it messed up that I don’t want them to stay?”

He heard Eddie sigh, “I can’t pretend to know what that’s like but you’re allowed to feel however you want about them. You’re the one who has to live with this, that means you decide how you feel about them.”

“What if he’s right, though?” Steve mumbled. What if everything my father says about me is true and I’m a no good freeloader? 

“He’s not right about you.” Eddie told him, understanding immediately, speaking again when Steve started to protest, “He’s not right about you, Steve. I know you and I know you don’t deserve this. So you know what, live in his house and spend his money and do whatever the hell you want because if he can’t pretend to care about you then fuck him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“You’re crazy, you know?” Steve said because he wasn’t going to start tearing up again.

“So I’ve been told. You don’t get accused of devil worship and witchcraft for nothing, my love.”

“Can you witchcraft my routine back?” Steve asked around a yawn.

“Oh yeah, all you gotta do is go to sleep.”

Steve groaned, “No. I miss you.”

“See me in your dreams, sweetheart.”

 Steve rolled his eyes because he could feel the exaggerated wink in Eddie’s voice, “That was terrible. Like, astoundingly awful.”

“I’d say I miss you too but I’m not sure I miss the attitude. Your inner mean girl is surfacing, Stevie.”

“You’re horrible, I’m just trying to go to sleep and my own boyfriend is bullying me.” He muttered with no real conviction.

Eddie gasped, “I knew you were tired!”

“Shhhh, let me sleep.” He didn’t hang up though, just settled into the kitchen chair and propped himself up against the wall next to the phone.

“It’s almost like that’s what I was trying to do, weird.” The sound of blankets rustling drifted from the other end of the line and Steve guessed Eddie was getting back in bed.

“Can you—” Steve hesitated, “Will you keep talking? Just until I can sleep?” 

He hadn’t asked anyone this in a long time, not since his father had lectured him on independence and being a man. Maybe Eddie would finally see him as the loser he was, too much of a baby to handle one night alone.

 But Eddie just hummed, “Nerdy snoozefest or something interesting?”

I love him. Steve would tell him later but now wasn’t the time, “Whatever you want.”

“Anything? Even the newest campaign I’m helping Dustin plan?”

Steve pushed back a sigh and agreed, pulling his legs up onto the chair as Eddie started his ramble with a gleeful ‘You’ve been warned’.

He talked and talked about creatures and myths. He went on a whole tangent about how Dustin was dead set on adding some thing that sounded like some weird dessert Steve’s great aunt Marge used to bring to Christmas dinner, a gelatinous cube he called it. Steve couldn’t keep up if he tried, and he had tried but even though he surrounded himself with a whole gaggle of nerds their mile-a-minute words were still lost on him. So instead he closed his eyes and let Eddie’s voice wash over him until he felt himself nodding off.

When Steve woke up again he was still in the chair—thank God he’d grabbed one with arms or he would have been on the floor. The first thing he registered was the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window, so it was still nighttime. The second thing he noticed was the phone still wedged between his shoulder and ear, soft breathing so close he could almost feel it puffing through the speaker. He sat up, grabbing the phone and popping his neck, only to wince at the sharp pain that shot through his spine. The wooden back of the chair dug into his own back.

“Eds?” He whispered, voice strained.

“Mh-wha?” Eddie’s disoriented mumbling would never not bring a smile to Steve’s face.

“You fell asleep, we both did.”

“Oh. What time is it?”

Steve craned his neck to check the clock, “Two a.m.” 

Eddie yawned and then groaned, “Way too early to be awake.”

Steve agreed, “I’m going to hang up and go to bed, okay? Remind me to never sleep upright again.” 

“Okay. Night, babe.” Eddie whispered, “I love you.” He added, like it was the easiest thing to say in the world.

Steve realized it was when he said it back, feeling a soft smile spread across his face, “I love you too.”

He was about to hang up, hand already reaching for the wall, when a shadow stumbled into the room. 

“Father—” He stood lightning fast, dropping the phone and feeling the cord stretch before coiling back together.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Fun fact: I Struggled writing their call because I had No Ideas. You can probably tell but I Can Not be bothered to rewrite it, it’s mostly filler anyway

Part 5

[contraryclock]

Limbus rambling Don Quixote edition number #2 the second

SO!!! that new canto huh Part 1 is out, im avoiding leaks to the best of my ability, and i am CAUGHT UP! still havent read La Mancha or Don Quixote though but i dont think that matters right now OBVIOUS disclaimer about my lack of knowledge with the source material once again point is i have a crackpot theory that just might not be that uncommon or unlikely? idk we'll see

Also sorry for no ALT text, this uses a lot of images and my fingers are very cold

spoilers under the cut obviously, catch up before you click and otherwise beware

oh yeah baby welcome to the cool people zone im going to be using a mixture of my own screenshots and the Limbus Main Story Library for this, so buckle up

I propose that there are in fact, two Don Quixote's! Our Don, the sinner of limbus company! and a much older, original Don Quixote, the possible Founder / Lord of La Manchaland!

To start, almost all of this theory is based on those flashback bits we get with the colored text, and is running under the assumption that the Yellow text is, reasonably, supposed to be our Don.

... which brings up the question of why they are acting so uncharacteristically in what is supposedly their own story.

Now, onto those flashbacks!

First up we have the instance at 7-9.

This one doesnt tell us much but it gives us some initial context.

The grey text is clearly Vergillius, you can just tell that from the delivery. The blue text is an unknown femenine voice, The yellow text feels somewhat familiar to that deeper voice that Don quixote will have on occasion. Ironically its more clear in her scream there at the end. ... and then we have the masculine voice in the red text.

But we'll get to that later! our next instance is in 7-13, on the inside of the Shooting Rage attraction. (( although i personally think it says Shooting Bagel. ))

okok but actually heres the text

Only the red voice this time, clearly the same person given the delivery too and with the added context of this node and the last one, it can be assumed that this is either the person who dreampt up La Manchaland, or straight up founded it.

And thanks to the Barber's Narration, we can also come to assume that this voice is also a Fixer, if these things are to be true.

Next, in 7-16, is NOT a flashback, but rather the reaction of The Barber.

The Barber recognizes the name to some degree, "THAT name" feels incredibly deliberate. But she is otherwise completely indifferent to Don.

and now we get to talk about this blue fuck

Sanson, Knight of the white Moon, Knight of Mirrors, ect ect, the BASTARD quick unrelated tangent but i think its cool that they made the arguable* main antagonist of Don Quixote possibly also be apart of Demian's Cool Blue Crew™ (( DCBC )) (( i say this because he shares his dialogue background with the other members of the blue crew we've met )) anyways basically the ENTIRE SEQUENCE he causes is the main reasoning behind my theory here *arguable ok again i havent read the book so i have no idea if this is an accurate assessment of his character i saw an article say that he was "arguably" the antagonist once and i haven't talked to anyone who has actually read the book to yap at about before i make these posts. addendum over

The fact of the matter is, Don Quixote does a right shit job of recounting her own story. She gets lines wrong, minor details, and this becomes readily apparent as soon as she implies that her own fucking shoes are who she was talking to, and that they are given proper reply. (( My thoughts are that instead of Rocinante, the role is in fact Sancho, but we have no evidence of that being the case ))

We also get the most telling flashback lines in this segment!

...The voice we've come to associate with Don Quixote is shown to NOT say her own line, but rather that of the line in red. And in both of these incidents, ellipsis are used to blank out a word, my bets are all on that word being "Knight" baybee

THATS A WRAP FOLKS we've established all the evidence for my epic theory that uhhh the Red voice in don's flashbacks are an Older, Original Don Quixote and that its possible that our Don is a 2'st Don instead of a real Don

As for why this is happening??? I have no fuckin idea its the first part of the canto i just wanted to get my thoughts out

i hope this wasnt too incomprehensible! as is usual dont follow me ect ect and reply or something if you have anything to add, as said im not very knowledgeable on the source material. or do that thing where you reblog with an additional comment because i will reblog that. free reblog ok goodbye now i will be stabbed to death momentarily

[arolesbianism]

It's soooo gnarly how much Akito and Ena care abt each other they should explode actually

[liverpool-enjoyer]

Would you mind ranking the mission impossible movies from best to worst?

OKOKOK FIRST OF ALL THANK YOU FOR ASKING I LOVE TO RANT ABT MISSION IMPOSSIBLE!!!

now ik you said best to worst but imma go from worst to best cause i think thats more dramatique

OK MY MISSION IMOPSSIBLE 1-7 RANKING:

7. mission: impossible 2 low hanging fruit i know. look i dont dislike this movie - im a diehard m:i fan, so i like all of them. this movie has its moments, n i rlly like john woo as a director, n i loved the rock climbing scene n knife stunt. the romance rlly brings it down for me tho, felt very shoehorned in there.

6. mission: impossible 3 here bc its better than 2 but not as good as 1. loved that it introduced my goats julia n benji, n i loved the building jump n the running scene. rlly solid movie, only this low bc i like the others more.

5. mission: impossible ik its pretty criminal to have the original at number FIVE, but the next four are just so goated. now obviously this movie is great, its the og. but tbh it doesnt stand out to me as much as the others do, doesnt have as much of a huge action setpiece that we've come to love. plus, modern day tom cruise wouldve done that helicopter in the tunnel bit for real.

now i call this next category the FOUR MOVIE PERFECTION RUN,,, bc thats what it is. every one of these next four are absolutely perfect in my eyes, n i could see any of them being someones number one

4. mission: impossible - ghost protocol perfect. down to the last minute detail. i,,, i mean where do i begin. THE burj khalifa stunt. adding benji to the team permanently. paula patton beating ass. the dude from lost dying like five minutes in. tying up the loose end that is ethan n julia. n ik this is niche but the lil outfit change ethan does when hes leaving the kremlin gets me every time. gosh theres just,,, SO much to love abt this movie idk what more i can say. this one was my mission impossible gateway drug.

3. mission: impossible - dead reckoning ok hear me out HEAR ME OUT. before you get mad. OBJECTIVELY SPEAKING, this is the best one. this is THE best one. but this is my personal ranking. the reason i put rogue nation n fallout over this MASTERPIECE is purely bc of,,, The Thing. yknow. the thing that happens to that one character. that one very beloved character. if youve seen the movie you know what i mean. but if youre not a mission fan, n youre not emotionally attached to these characters like i am, this is the best one. unfortunately, i am very emotionally attached to ethan n his pals.

2. mission: impossible - fallout now,,, what can i say abt fallout that hasnt already been said. its perfection. perfect, down to the last minute detail. the STUNTS. the continuity from rogue nation. introducing alanna n having her stab a man while wearing this GORGEOUS white two piece that i still think abt to this day. bringing back solomon lanes bitch ass. bringing back ILSA who is literally my number one my goat my everything. n tell me how every action setpiece n fight is imbedded with fucking CRACK. the club bathroom fight, the HALO jump, ilsa n benji duking it out w lane in that little shack, ethan n walker duking it out on a cliff, THE WHOLE ASS HELICOPTER SEQUENCE where tom cruise just casually flew a helicopter as one does. n OHMYGOSH THE RUNNING. im a simple man ok i could literally watch nine hours of simon pegg telling tom cruise where to run. oh also the fucking fake out in the beginning w the fucking hospital room n benji impersonating that cnn fellow is literally the most impressive thing in the series to me. i was FLABBERGASTED. ok i know im just rambling n listing things but this movie is just,,, so, so good

1 mission impossible - rogue nation see. im aware that fallout n dead reckoning are objectively better than rogue nation. however,,, nostalgias one HELLUVA drug. this movie came out when my family was moving n i was SUPER emo abt it. but i had been looking forward to this movie for like years at that point n even tho i was going through a tough time i was SO stoked to see rogue nation. n rlly i feel like its the perfect mission impossible movie. luthers back after being absent in ghost protocol. tom cruise holding his breath for six fucking minutes as one does. benji is the damsel in distress. n how could i forget the fact that this movie introduces THE BEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES??? ilsa my GOAT. notice how the three movies shes in are the top three,,, yeah shes the best written character in the series not to mention shes uh just rlly cool n yeah. this blog proudly promotes ilsa faust supremacy.