#shit's night and day on this and the AH channel

[monarchisms]

man okay so it has been a while since I watched AH videos (as in, since the Matt thing), but since when do they not put the game & episode number in the title or thumbnail anymore? I was really craving some Cursed Halo content so I wanted to watch the Play Pals episodes of that but literally the only way to figure out the episode order was to go digging for their playlist. What da hell.

wadda hell.................................

i agree that the lack of numbers and a game title are annoying, but what makes me confused alongside that is that it's inconsistent?????????

playps and the laso series have the number gone from the thumbnail specifically except for part 11??? and the dark souls series with joe just keeps the episode numbers in the title, but not the thumbnail??????

it already sucks for people who were/are already fans for a while, and it sucks for newcomers even more because they'd struggle to find where to start, so an excuse for retention won't work. who does this benefit?!

[loverleah]

in between | leah williamson

- “(s)he laughs at her eyes, at her smile, the glasses on her face.”

in which: you rewatch all your favourite moments with leah.

warnings: hella fluff, swear words

-

you were a footballer. an outstanding one, to say the least. but on the side you took up vlogging, where you would film and post your favourite bits and pieces of your life.

leah was a frequent participant in your videos, which had over a hundred thousand views on average. your supporters seemed to love your content when she was included, so what once was your vlogging channel soon turned into a “leah williamson fan page” according to the blonde herself.

on one particularly boring thursday, you had decided to rewatch all of your vlogs (the ones leah were in). you had stayed home from training due to “coming down with a sickness”while leah left to see her physio. with nobody to speak to and nothing to do, this was the only way you could entertain yourself.

VLOG 16 | gingerbread disaster ft. leah

“leah! stop it!” you scolded, slapping the taller girls fingers away as she previously attempted to tickle at your stomach.

“what? you won’t let me love you ‘cause you’re bloody camera is on?” she said sarcastically, hand on her heart. “i’m hurt, baby. truly.”

you turned away from her and rolled your eyes at the camera, mumbling a few incoherent words to yourself. you were both dressed in christmas sweaters and had santa hats on, you two were building gingerbread houses for the video.

“seriously lee, i’m halfway through mine and you haven’t even started building yours!” you exclaimed after looking over leah’s shoulder only to see she had been eating the chocolate you had bought.

“chocolate is supposed to be eaten!”

VLOG 23 | lazy saturdays

“hey everyone. this is for those of you who think leah is all tough and scary and that she wears the pants in the relationship.” you whisper out to the camera, shifting your arm so it is pointed directly at leah.

the defender had her hair sticking out in all different places, her mouth open and full body laying on top of yours. it was early on a saturday morning, you both decided on a relaxed day at home the night before considering you two had nothing on.

“she does this all the time, by the way. always sleeping. not as energetic and serious anymore, ey?” you giggle to yourself, squishing leah’s cheeks.

this action seemed to wake the girl up, her eyes widened at the sight of your camera right in her face.

“fuck fuck! no, get rid! get rid of it!” she wails, hurriedly stumbling to her feet as she chased you out of your shared bedroom.

“that’s going on all my social media, lee!”

VLOG 25 | day with the arsenal

“okay, so this is how you hold it.” you explain to kyra, your best friend and national teammate, “make sure the camera is straight and facing you, so they can see clearly.”

“uh, okay.” the younger girl nods, fumbling with the camera in her hands.

“honestly ky, you’re hopeless!” leah teases, yelping as kyra reaches for her ponytail. “ah! help, y/n, help!”

you grab the camera from kyra’s hands, hysterically laughing while you film the two girls wrestle as beth and vic chant “fight, fight, fight!”

“poor alessia looks like she’s going to shit herself,” viv laughs. you smile as you shift the camera to face alessia. the blonde stood behind lotte, grimacing as leah and kyra continued to yell and shove each other.

“let go of me you rodent!”

“you first, willy bum!”

a series of “ooo’s” and “oh no’s” were heard as kim entered the locker room.

“what is going on?” she yells, eyebrows furrowed as the group fell silent. you hid your camera underneath cloe’s elbow as katie and caitlin made room for kim to walk through.

the older captain grabs both the girls on the ground by their ears as they complain and point fingers at each other.

“kyra tore my top!”

“you bit my finger!”

the rest of the arsenal girls stifle their laughs as both kyra and leah were dragged by their ears out of the locker room.

“time out for the rest of break!”

VLOG 28 | special 200k QNA ft. leah’s horrid cooking

“-so that’s why i wear number 24 on the back of my shirt! i also wanted a two digit number and it kinda just stuck up until now-“

you were cut off by a loud shriek and a loud crash. you were situated in your room, where you had a bowl full of printed questions next to you which leah had handpicked from the poll you had put up earlier. she had told you she would be in the kitchen, where she never usually is, so you assumed she would wait there for you and not actually cook up a storm.

“fuck!” you swore, hurriedly grabbing your camera behind as you ran downstairs.

you swore you could have died laughing at the sight before you. leah was dressed in your apron, which was two sizes too small, considering your height difference. her hands were covered in ginormous oven mitts, and her hair was sticking up in all different places. the kitchen, if even possible, was in a worse state. there was flour everywhere, and egg shells in the sink. the oven was wide open, revealing two layers of cake and a whole lot of smoke.

“turn the smoke alarm off, lee!” you giggled, slapping her ass while she reached up and turned it off.

“fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen- are you honestly filming this right now?” the blonde exclaimes, making a move to grab your camera.

“oi! this new camera was expensive i will have you know!”

“oh, trust me i do, considering i payed for it!”

you roll your eyes and placed the camera down, grabbing a tea towel and swatting the remaining smoke out the open window.

“well, this was a nice surprise. thank you for trying, babe.” you smile, grabbing leah’s now bare hands in your own. the older girl leaned down and pecked your lips, brushing your hair out of your face.

“yeah, yeah,” leah’s smirk fell as she faced the camera, “shit, i forgot you were filming! don’t put that in!”

“oh put a rest to it, will you? let’s get that chocolate cake out of the oven before it turns a completely burnt black!”

“…that cake was supposed to be vanilla?”

-

you smiled as you added the remaining videos which included leah to a folder on your computer. little did the blonde know, you were going to play these at your wedding in three weeks.

-

A.N (AUTHORS NOTE)

this is my first ever fic, so please be nice 😭😭

i absolutely love leah fics and have literally read all of them so i decided to make some of my own content!!! requests are open!!!!

[sorcererofsolitude]

Ever since Wednesday solved the mystery of her stalker, she'd begun to get stir-crazy. Her mind craved a new project, something to channel her wits and rage into.

Bianca made the mistake of introducing Wednesday to Minecraft, taking advantage of her begrudging but ever-advancing embrace of modern technology.

She created a monster.

Wednesday's main world consisted of a painstakingly constructed city meant to torture villagers with the simulated monotony of a 9-5 office job in an urban dystopia, of which she was the supreme ruler.

Her home was a large turreted castle in the ice biome with a sprawling back yard for her over 100 pet polar bears.

Everything in her castle is either black, white, or grey, save for the pink potted tulip she kept near her bed in honor of a certain someone.

Saturday was game night on the Nevermore Minecraft server. It devolved into chaos ever since Wednesday joined.

Gone were the days of peaceful cooperation. Not on her watch. Instead, Wednesday had taken to ruthlessly hunting other players and using TNT to blow their structures to the shit house.

Bianca: God dammit, Wednesday! Stop griefing my iron farm!

Wednesday: Your rebellion is at an end. The means of production will be seized, and you'll all be sent to work in the mines.

Ajax: You can't just rule over the server!

Wednesday, smirking darkly: I am your god now.

Enid, sighing: ...Wednesday? What the fuck are you doing?

Wednesday: Ah, Enid! Come join me in my conquest, I will make you queen of these lands.

Enid: Care to explain why I got a text from Bianca saying I need to 'reign in my tiny terror'?

Wednesday: ...political pressure.

AO3: SorcererOfSolitude

[squerlly]

flames of desire chapter 8: how sweet...

Alastor x (f! bunny reader) -FLUFF-

Alastors POV:

Ever since that day, the day I came to terms with the fact that I am indeed infatuated with y/n its driving me crazy. why couldn't she just push me away, why didn't she deny my feelings, I feel weak...

your POV:

well last night was quite the shit show. I almost got raped, angel might pay for it later, and Alastor just confessed he loves me. what do I even do with myself, god my head hurts what was in those drinks. with a groan I get up heading to the bathroom to freshen up, it was a Saturday and I was feeling lazy so tank top and shorts it is. after changing I take a moment to look at myself, for a demon I look so....pathetic?, I really gotta learn how to defend myself, maybe ill ask vaggie later.

walking to the lobby I see Alastor on the arm chair with a book, husk at the bar, and angel flipping through channels on the TV. Alastor spots me and I stiffen, my face heating up remembering what happened last night, "good morning my dear" "oh uhh good morning, what are you guys doing?" I plop on the couch beside angel "ehh its my day off and my fucken head hurts" I roll my eyes "what happened to gotta start off strong" angel shoots me a scowl "I'm not one for weak alcohol like you~" "sounds like a you problem" "oh you little-" "ehem" looking at alastor he shoots angel a warning look, I try to hold in a laugh maybe having creepy deer man at my side isn't to bad "anyways I was going to go out for a walk to visit a dear friend of mine and would like for you to attend if you would like" "well I wasn't planning on doing anything today so why not" "wonderful dear tell me when your ready to go and we shall be off" as alastor leaves I avert my gaze back to angel as he throws me a suspicious look "what?" "what are ya giving smiles under the table or somethin, he never invites people out" with a flustered face I yell "angel!!!!" "what!? just sayin no need to get your panties in a bunch~" "whatever..." angel cackles as I walk away heading back to my room to get dressed. once again tearing up my closet I settle on a white sweetheart neckline puffy sleeved dress, brushing my hair and ears I hear a knock on the door, opening its alastor "hello my dear are you ready to go?" "yes!" "wonderful" heading to the hotel doors I turn back to angel who smirks doing a jerking off motion, I just flip him off I we both leave.

walking the streets of hell once again I notice that demon stray away from us, leaving the sidewalk free of any sinners blocking the path, damn just how scared were these people of Alastor, noticing him staring down at me "whats the matter?" "nothing cher you just look nice today" oh that's a new nick name "thank you but, were are we going?" "well none other then one of my favorite places in all of hell!" with a curious look I see a sign that says cannibal town written on it "cannibal town? Al am I going to get eaten" I joke seeing the people all around before watching a man get mangled and eaten, wait a damn minute- "I assure you cher nobody will eat you with me here" lovely.... "o-ok" I say trying to ignore the fact somebody literally got eaten alive in front of me, aside from that the town looked nice, don't get me wrong the people are terrifying but this is the most well managed place if seen thus far, its mostly just chaos down here. "there's somebody I would like you to meet, I'm sure she will love you~" walking into a place called Rosie's Emporium, it had nice dresses and is that- body parts!!?, suddenly a tall pale woman wearing a long dress and a large hat with feathers comes pushing past the crowed "alastor? alastor!!!, were have you been iv missed you" "hello Rosie, good to see you doing well" as she grabs him and hugs him she looks to me as I awkwardly wave "Alastor whos this lovely lady, introduce me will ya" "ah yes y/n dear this is Rosie one of the most darling and dangerous overlords this side of the pentagram!" "oh no need for such flattery~" "Rosie this is y/n a resident at charlies hotel" "oh hello, its nice to meet you" "my my she's a cutie!" "Rosie you don't mind if she picks though some of your lovely dresses" "oh of course, any friend of alastors is a friend of mine" "wait what-" "cher why don't you look through these lovely dresses at her shop I'm sure you will find something you like" "I- are you sure?" "yes, me and Rosie will talk for a bit, pick anything you like~" "oh uhm alright!"

Alastors POV:

sitting on one of Rosie's tables she hands me a cup of bitter coffee as we talk "well alastor its not everyday you bring a lady to my place~, who is she?" "we need to hang out less dear" she lets out a little laugh, "she's a shy one, quite a lucky girl aswell, it takes a lot to gain the likes of you" glancing at y/n looking through the dresses "she's quite interesting, and I don't know why..." "well your all googly eyed for her so I presume you love her" unconsciously some static cracks through my voice as I speak "love is a strong word don't you think?" "sounds like your in denial~" "I'm not in denial!, this is just a new form of interest" "I think this is good for you, she seems like bright girl. you guys haven't done anything yet hmm?" I give her a glare before averting my gaze elsewhere sipping my coffee "ohh~?" "nothing serious so don't get your hopes up" nothing serious yet, the truth was that kiss tasted sweet, it stir something in me, and I don't like sweet things. so why do I want more...I need more, I need another taste.

your POV:

looking at the clothing racks of dresses they were all old fashioned, not that it was a bad thing but not my style, I still looked around anyways setting my sights on a nice red and white dress, it had a high neckline with the top half being white and the bottom a deep red color. the sleeves were puffy, taking it off the rack I hang it over my arm "uhh Rosie you don't mind if I try anything on right?" turning her attention from there conversation "of course dear try on anything ya like, the dressing rooms are in the back!" I give her a smile as I hurry on back, looking at the dress I see there was buttons along the sides wear you slip it on, stepping into it I button them on, walking out I look at myself in the mirror, giving it a spin it looked pretty but the waist is a bit tight...seeing alastor in the mirrors reflection I turn "alastor you scared me for a second" "sorry cher I didn't intend to scare you, found something you like?" "I don't know I feel silly..." "nonsense you look wonderful" grabbing my hand he spins me earning a giggle "red is truly your color" "say the one who wears nothing but red" "well then I suppose we match don't we~" "can I have this one?" "of course, why don't you change and ill get it for you" "thank you Al" "anything for you my dear" running off to change I come back out with the dress in hand as we walk back to the front with Rosie "well take this one Rosie" "oh what a lovely choice you made, I'm sure this looked beautiful on you" "how much will that be?" "don't worry about it its on the house!" giving a wide smile she waves it off "thank you so much!" "yes thank you again Rosie" "anything for a friend, after all you've never done me wrong before~" packaging the dress in a nice bag she hands it to me with a card, "if you ever need some dresses don't hesitate to pay me a visit" she said with a wink and I nod with a wide smile.

Alastors POV:

it does my dead heart good to see her smile, to know I caused that smile, oh she had no idea what she's done to me. "y/n dear why don't we walk back to the hotel, wouldn't want to make Charlie worried" "oh yes!" I wave off Rosie finding her much needed advice quite useful "did you enjoy yourself cher?" "most defiantly!, I can see why you like this place" "yes it takes me back to my time were things were much simpler" "I wish I could live in this time, it was...nice" "glad you think so".

back at the hotel we walk in as it was already starting to get late, I walk her back to her room "consider this a date, I would love to take you out more cher" seeing a shade of red on her cheeks makes me feel giddy, taken out of my thought she suddenly gives me a hug, surprised I return her affectionate gesture hearing a small mumble from her "thank you alastor, it means a lot" "anything for you darling, now sleep well, don't let the nightmares' haunt you, that's my job~"

eat eat eat this up please because I pray you love this chapter as much as I didddd!!!! Rosie is my everything!!!! and are we gonna talk about last weekend were I woke up to 99+ NOTIFICATIONS!!!! I love you guys so much I could cry have a wonderful day/night lots of hugs

-squerlly

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

for more content or chapters please click this masterlist

[iaminfourthwing]

The Generals Daughter

Chapter III

The sun is up when we stand in formation the next day while Captain Fitzgibbons reads from the death roll. The courtyard is hollowed in almost deadly silence.

We’re all in our assigned uniforms for first years with our patches added and while some of us look like they got a decent amount of sleep last night, I didn`t and I feel like I am ready to be send to Malek. But my mind was running on high speed and I was way too paranoid to sleep, ready for the (mostly im)possible scenario someone might try to pull some shit at night, even though it would be against the Codex. Violet next to me looks like she struggles but is keeping her head high. She is strong which makes me proud.

“We command their souls to Malek.” Oh, we were at the end already.

“Hopefully you all ate breakfast, because you`re not going to get another chance before lunch” Dain says, “and I hope at least one of you first years has the academic schedule remembered.”

“And if we’re not?” someone behind us says. Is he dumb?

“Then I don`t have to be concerned with forgetting your name” Aetos shrugs. Well.

“Sawyer” he looks to the left at a first year. Ah, Sawyer Henrick, the freckled guy that repeats the first year because he didn`t bond during Threshing last year. It takes some balls to do this shit again, he has my full respect.

“I`ll get them there” he answers and turns to the nine of us first years. “Fourth floor, second room on the left in the academic wing. Get your shit and don`t be fucking late” he shouts and heads off to the dormitory.

“This must be shit, doing this again” Rhiannon states.

“Better than being dead” the guy from before claims as he walks on my right side. I think his name is Ridoc but I am not sure. I look around, not saying anything and make my way to the dorms, not noticing that Violet isn't by my side anymore. In her place walks Rhiannon. “Where-“ “Dain” she says before I can ask. Damn Aetos, so much for being subtle.

We`re off to grab our (and Violets) stuff and head over to the academic wing for history, which is going to be boring for both Violet and myself. Violet was trained to be a scribe, so she knows it all, and I had to study everything anyways, order from my father.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

“Welcome to your first Battle Brief” Professor Devera greets us. This will be the only class we`ll have every day.

She takes her time to scan the rows of first years, looking at every cadet she sees, while the second and third years are scattered behind us.

At first, she makes eye contact with Violet next to me and gives her a small smile and nod but when her eyes find mine, she tenses and stops. For around three second it`s quiet, then she nods and continues. Rolling my eyes, I look to the left at Violet, seeing a concerned frown adorning her face. I send her a reassuring smile and turn back to the front where Professor Markham stands. He looks at Violet with disappointment, not because of her personally but the lost chances with that great brain of hers. She would have been an excellent scribe.

His gaze sways over to my side and just like with Panchek, his face pales instantly and fear strikes his facial features, not because of me but the one I share my last name with. Letting out a frustrated sigh I switch my focus on my quill, distracting myself before I start to scream out of annoyance. For fucks sake, I am NOT my father. Why is everyone acting like he rules the fucking continent?

“First topic of the day,” Devera moves to the map “the Eastern Wing experienced an attack last night near the village of Chakir by a drift of Braevi gryphons and their riders.” Oh damn. I sit straighter and focus on the map. Good thing when you have an excellent working memory – you can focus more on the front, less on your notes.

She gives further information and I take it all in. It’s bad enough that dragons aren`t the only animals capable of channeling powers to their riders. But the dragons are the only ones of powering the wards that makes other power impossible within these wards. They make sure we aren`t fucked up by the gryphons and their riders.

“…What questions would you ask? Only answers from first years for the start.”

Okay first of all, why the fuck are the wards faltering and more importantly what caused them to falter in such an unlikely place? They would never answer that question because none of us is authorized in that matter.

The second question would be, why they would choose this place for an attack? The Esben Mountain Range is the highest on the eastern border and the gryphons don`t go really well with altitudes like this. Furrowing my eyebrows, I try to find a pattern in the latest attacks. It doesn`t make any sense. But maybe … maybe they were searching for something.

“Did you want to ask a question?” Devera asks Pryor, a first year in our squad, who doesn`t really knows if he should raise his hand or not.

“Yes” he nods. Then – “No. Never mind.”

“So decisive” Luca, another first year from our squad, mocks him. Aurelie tries to ease the tension but Luca is not done with her teasing.

“No dragon is bonding to a guy who can`t even decide if he wants to ask a question. And have you seen –“ I scoff loudly, rolling my eyes at her demeanor to finally bring an end to this shit, which makes her turn around in her seat a row in front of me. If some of them are already kind of terrified with my face here, why not use it?

Her eyes meet mine and she realizes who interrupted her. She quickly turns back to the map without saying anything anymore.

I hear Violet and Rhiannon whisper to each other but don`t understand anything.

“What altitude is the village at?” Rhiannon finally asks. Oh, that`s a good question, matches with mine I had in my head. It`s Professor Markham who answers, surprised by it. “A little less than ten thousand feet, why?”

“It seems a little high for an attack with gryphons.” Good safe, because now I just realized that the question came from Violet. Smartass.

“… to ask your own questions, Cadet Sorrengail.” Shit, I need to start listening and try not to zone out all the time. Seems like the girl next to me has now all the attention on her. Great job, Vi.

Violet goes on about how this altitude is way too high for gryphons and their ability to channel. Looks like a thought crosses her genius brain as her next question is based on Devera’s information that the squad of riders took an hour to arrive.

“Then they were already on their way” she says. And while I can see what she is talking about – the rest of the first years decide to judge instead of thinking, some of them start to laugh.

“Yeah, because that makes sense” a blonde guy turns around in his seat to laugh directly in her face. Jack fucking Barlowe, the asshole that threw a candidate down the Parapet tried to kill Violet and still has it out for her.

“General Melgren knows the outcome of a battle before it happens, but even he doesn`t know when it will happen, dumbass. Am I right, Melgren Junior?” His eyes find mine when an evil smirk finds its way onto his face. Don`t fucking tempt me, asshole. I am not interested in a conversation with you.

My lack of response seems to annoy him because he tries it again. “I said, am I righ-���

“There is no need to repeat yourself. I ignored you just fine the first time.”

Stunned silence from Barlowe, startled gasps from other cadets, choked laughter from Ridoc. “Oh shit, that was good, Arya!” he laughs next to me and clasps his hand on my shoulder. Yeah no, I don`t think so Ridoc. I should try to keep my mouth shut with that one before I'll regret it.

Violet ignores my remark and continues with her theory and it seems like she is right, because Devera and Markham both look proud and with a knowing smile on their face. “Because they somehow knew the wards were breaking” she finishes.

“That`s the most-“Jack argues. Does he ever know when to stop?! “She`s right.” HA! I have a proud grin on my face, I love her brain!

“Cadet Melgren” I am called by Devera. Startled I raise my head, brow hitting my hairline.

“What would you ask in aspect of the attack?” she asks me. For a moment I study the map again, trying to sort my thoughts.

“What were they looking for and most importantly, did they find it?”

A slow smile spreads over Deveras face and even Markham looks intrigued by my question. “What makes you think they were out looking for something?”

“Well, it just makes sense they searched for something. Like Cadet Sorrengail said, the attack took action at the most illogical place for a drift of gryphons.” I pause, bringing my thoughts into formation. “The wards failing was not a coincidence and even though it seems like they were just passing by, they weren`t. They somehow knew the wards would falter in that specific moment. But whatever they were looking for, it must have been really important if they risk their drift to attack this high up in the mountains.” I finish.

I can hear Ridoc next to me cheering quietly in his seat. And while the first and some of the second years don’t think that far yet, I am pretty sure some of the third years had a similar question in mind, because I hear approving whispers behind me. Years of learning and studying are finally paying off.

“Just like your father. Always thinking ahead and seeing the important aspects. Good job, Melgren.” Everyone else would see it as a compliment but … 

I hate it, with all my heart, because I desperately want to be everything but like my father. Violet takes my hand, knowing how much I hate to be compared to the General.

[blingblong55]

TV Crush -141

Based on a request:

This is my first time sending a concept of mine so I apologise if my concept is absoulute dog shit So I'm from Ireland and rugby is extremely popular here and when I watch it me and my mom are really rowdy and we just flatout simp for some of the men so I can imagine a female reader at the TF141 base in the lounge just watching a rugby match and absolutely gawking over one of the players and soap joins in after being curious as to what the reader was doing and then the rest of the task force walk in the room to just the reader and soap absolutely drooling over the players😭 (Have a good day or night💋🎀)

F!Reader, platonic!relationship

Normal day at the base, you sit by the television, the common room has the best channels, especially your personal favourite, Sky Sports. The men at the base use it mainly for football, mainly Ghost and Price but you recently started to use it for Rugby. The sport is quite intriguing, fun and easy to follow along. And, as your weekly favourite match began, Soap rushed to the sofa with you. "Think they'll do the montage?" he asks you and you nod. "If they don't I'm sure, we'll see a fan-made one somewhere."

As the match went on, you gushed over George Ford and his beauty as well as how amazing he did in this match. Soap chuckled anytime you blushed or giggled at the camera angles the channel gave you. "holy fuck that man- Soap! Oh my...look at the- ah...dude...the fucking- oh my!" you kept hitting his arm and he laughed. "I mean, personally I think Anthony Watson is much better looking." You nod, "I mean he is hot- Soap...look at the way he looks at the other team!" you blush and he shakes his head. "And to think he is married- ow what was that for!" he says as he rubs his arm. "Don't you dare break my fangirl moment right now." A promise to another punch if he dares break your heart.

As you two argue and gush over the men, Gaz calls Price in. "Wouldn't surprise me if they were-" That's when he hears you and Soap giggle like school girls. "Never mind." price says and then Ghost walks in. "They're doing it again?" he asks the other two men who just nod.

"If he asked for it, I'd lick the sweat off him," you comment to which Soap playfully hits your arm. "Same but you're nasty out loud, lass." The three men just watch in amusement as Soap and you cheer for when the attractive men of the teams come on screen and boo when they aren't on screen. "One of these days we'll have to put them on leashes or they'll bite any man that resembles any of those lads." Gaz comments and Price, like a tired father nods. "They'll end up getting us in trouble if we don't control them."

"Agree with that." Ghost comments. After the match, you and Soap do the usual social media scan, looking for any of the thirst traps any other fan has made. But in the middle of the weekly blushing and thirst comments said out loud, you and he ended up thirsting over the much older but still attractive, older men in the acting industry. "I don't condone cheating but if he wanted to have fun for a night with me before going back to his wife, I'd give him a pass." A comment to which Soap nods, "Honestly if I were to be with this exquisite piece of art, I'd brag every minute of the day." You hum in agreement.

"They'll be the downfall of this task force." Price says before passing out a cloud of smoke. "Aye, but at least it gives us three hours to ourselves." Ghost comments. "Anyway, you lads want to head to the mess hall." Gaz offers and both men nod, to which they all leave the room. "Fuck do I need an older man inside of me." you sigh out and Soap pats your shoulder, "One day my friend."

A/N: I have no idea where this is headed...

[queercatwithhat]

should i do dnp 2024 predictions or is that just silly now?

ah, fuck it

MY DAN AND PHIL 2024 PREDICTIONS ^__^

they change the name of their joint channel, maybe to "dan and phil"

phil gets a tattoo!

dan introduces a new concept for his main channel

they start a podcast and it's got the unhinged stereo energy

a cute selfie just randomly captioned "date night" gets posted cause they just don't gaf anymore

dab and evan get a child and this child has the yet strangest name, not the obvious "devan"

catboy phil somehow

daniel howell will wear a black, longer skirt and look beautiful

they go undercover as stan accounts and we all lose our shit

some sort of accident during a gaming video

amazingdan reactions

dan does not shut up about phil's ass

cornelia posts another tweet about them that's calling them best gay uncles or something like that

they start playing a long, emotional storygame like life is strange or detroit become human and one of them cries

they upload a video on valentines day and whatever it is, it's so corny that no one knows wether or not they're just fucking with us

they do another mukbang and this time dan talks a bit about the we're all doomed recording just like last time when they we're chatting about the interactive introverts dvd

also small addition; this mukbang isn't pizza again, instead i'm feeling indian, like yes shove that samosa in my mouth plz

seth everman comeback just for phil

phil announces a big, creative solo project (go phil go!!!!)

they announce a tour for 2025

full phouse tour never happens but they do show us some areas of it and we all realize they're not just rich, they're rich rich

think that's it for now =P

[tiramisusbakery]

The Auction pt. 2

Summary: Can be found in The Auction pt. 1, here

#BLACKOC #jjk #Gojosatoru #Gojo #GetoSuguru #Geto #NSFW #MHAOC

Warnings: NSFW, Teens in adult situations (what else is new in jjk tbh), violence, cursing, underage alcohol consumption

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit. Shit. Shit” 

Geto fumbled with the lighter in his cupped palm, trying and failing to light the cigarette that stuck out of his mouth. The breeze kept putting out his flame before it could catch.

"Need some help?"

The back door of the building swung shut as Gojo stepped into the alley, his back hunched against the cold.

"Fuck. Ah, yeah, if you could."

Geto sparked the weak lighter, and Gojo held up two fingers, a small red bulb of light appearing as if from nothing and hovering at the tips. The sparks of the lighter caught the dollop of cursed energy, and the fire jumped to his technique, turning the pulse into a tiny ball of fire.

Geto propped the end of his cigarette up against the little blazing orb and dragged a few times, puffing until a plume of smoke finally wafted from the other end. He exhaled in relief.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah. You know, I thought you kicked that habit.”

Geto shrugged, clenching the stick between his teeth as he dutifully rolled up his sleeves. 

“I didn’t.”

“Do you have any idea what those do to your body?” Gojo grimaced. “I’m watching it give you cancer right now, Suguru.”

“Can’t be any worse than those fuckin’ curses I have to eat,” He toked, threw his head back, and exhaled the murky smoke, watching it curl into the sky.

He cut his eyes at Gojo. 

“Or did you forget?”

Gojo took pause. Geto was getting kind of cagey. He decided to switch the subject, although the next one he had in mind wasn’t exactly soothing. 

“So…what did Raven say to you in there?”

“That you two fucked.” Geto’s dark eyes landed on Gojo’s wide, blue ones.

“I- w-well-, um, we-”

“How does this keep happening, Gojo? Why do you always end up exactly where you're not supposed to be?"

"...'Scuse me?"

"The only reason I know where you go in the middle of the night is because I followed you. The only reason you haven’t gotten caught is because I've been the one stuffing your bed. You don't tell me anything anymore. Are we friends or not?"

"Well you sure as hell aren't acting like a friend right now," Gojo pushed away from the wall and stalked closer, his own eyes burning holes into Geto's black ones. "How was I supposed to know you'd end up falling in love with the girl I paid for some pussy? And did I tell you to come looking for me?"

"You don't tell someone that, Satoru, you just do. You know what? Every time I turn around, you’re trying to justify being a fucking asshole, and I’m trying to stop you from being one. I work and WORK to keep you out of trouble, and you laze around being the ‘strongest’ until it's time to blast someone with a gravity orb or some shit, and then the day is saved. I am so fucking tired of trying to reign you in that it hurts.”

"Then don’t. I'm not your little brother, or your kid. If I want to go somewhere, I do, and if I want to fuck someone, I will."

Geto raised a brow, pursing his lips around the cigarette with a ferocity that made his jaw pop beneath his skin. He blew the smoke harshly from between his teeth, and it made him look like he was channeling the dragon he was known to summon during fights.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, dickhead?”

“That means I didn’t do shit TO YOU!” Gojo spat, finally coming face to face with Geto, “But i’ll tell you what I did do- to Raven.”

Geto rocked forward, bringing himself up off of the wall, and closed the narrow distance between himself and his white haired assailant. His cigarette fogged Gojo’s glasses, but he kept his hands balled up in his pockets to stop himself from knocking his best friend out.

“Go ahead,” he challenged, “What did you do?”

“I fucked the shit out of her.” Gojo removed his glasses, folded them neatly, and tucked them into his blazer pocket. “For hours. Angie didn’t want me to stop.”

“Angie?” Geto gaped. His cigarette dropped from his mouth and fell to the pavement in an arch of ash.

“Oh-ho, don’t tell me she didn’t tell you her name?” Satoru’s blue eyes flashed like ice, his smile growing like that of a Cheshire cat.

“Well, she didn’t tell me, so don’t worry. Her sensei did, when I fucked them both. Same time. Poor girl asked me to be gentle, but before long I was fucking her into the mattress. So, I guess it's safe to say…” He ran his tongue along his teeth, shaking his head slowly from side to side. He watched Geto’s face darken dangerously.

“I wasn’t.”

Crack!

The impact of Geto’s knuckles against Gojo’s jaw caught him by surprise, and he realized that somewhere along the line he’d accidentally dropped his infinity.

Damn booze!

Geto grabbed the sleeve of his counterpart’s jacket and slammed him into the brick wall, his teeth bared like a rabid animal. 

“Gah!” Gojo’s head reverberated like a bell.

Gojo came to his senses as the dark haired boy went in for a second jab to his face. Ducking away from the swing and countering with his own, his fist connected with Geto’s abdomen in a streak of blue. He sent a shock of cursed energy to his knuckles, repelling Geto’s torso and doubling the impact of the punch. Geto yelled in surprise, and staggered backward into a figure that had stood watching them at the door. 

Takete caught the boy easily, and held him back from lunging himself again at Gojo.

“Boys, something wrong? We can hear you inside-” Takete made eye contact with Gojo.

“It’s you?” He smirked, “How do we keep finding each other like this, kid?”

Gojo blinked, shook his head, and blinked again, trying to clear his vision.

“Uh, yeah. Hey Mr. shark man”

“Good guess. Takete. You need some help out here?”

Geto wrenched himself away from the man. 

“Who the hell are you? More buddies you didn’t tell me about, Gojo?” He spat at the street. “You’re so fucking useless.”

“Well, in the spirit of me being useful,” Gojo wiped his mouth with one hand, the other in his breast pocket. “Let me tell you what I was gonna say all along, you fucking psycho.”

He withdrew his hand from his pocket, and held up the coin he’d found at his chair.

“I wasn’t gonna play, but since you’re so hell bent on calling me a selfish idiot, maybe I will. And I’m gonna show you what it means to get whatever the fuck I want, whether youre here to see it or not.” His eyes twinkled as his smile took on a mischievous curl.

Geto’s face was lined with fury, but Gojo didn’t care about Geto’s feelings anymore. He was having far too much fun. 

“So,” He continued, his voice echoing off of the walls of the alley,  “you better hope to God that this one’s a dud, but I have to say, I’m feeling lucky."

He kissed the coin and replaced it, his white hair catching the wind and making him look wild.

Geto loosened his tie, and slid off his volcanic beads with a calmness that would have chilled winter itself. "Gojo, you don't want to make me into your enemy. If you apologize, we can talk about this."

Gojo threw his head back and howled in laughter.

"There's nothing to talk about." He beamed. 

"You know what the best part about being 'fuck you' rich is, boy scout? Its being able to say FUCK YOU!”

Geto nearly tore his jacket trying to remove it as he geared up for round two, but Takete laid an enormous hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not worth it, champ, he’s drunk.”

Geto stared incredulously into the man’s face before shrugging him off to adjust his jacket and collar.

“Move.”

He shoved the man aside with his shoulder as he ducked back into the venue. Takete chuckled, almost reminiscent at the scene.

“You pair are feisty. I see that as an asset. There’s a lot going on tonight, but if you want to talk initiation, let me know.” He winked at the oversized teen before letting the door swing shut.

~~~~~

Geto sank into his velvet chair gracelessly, his face stormy with disgust. With himself? with Gojo? He had no idea. 

The mingling of the crowd below his box had begun to slow; the lights darkened and the chatter died. He knew the show would be starting soon.

Movement and white hair across the darkening theater caught his attention, and he watched as Gojo slid into a box of his own, his posture hunched and his shoulders square. When he sat, their eyes caught across the room. Gojo’s blue gaze was blank and cool- and most of all, unreadable. Geto knew his own looked the same; the daggers in his eyes likely would have been deadly had they been real.

You better hope this one’s a dud, but I’m feeling lucky. 

Gojo averted his gaze, and Geto watched him close his palm around the coin and shove it in his pocket.

He’s so damn sure he’s gonna win. God, fuck him.

Checking over his shoulder, Geto withdrew an enormous wallet from his pocket, the bills inside spreading the patent leather so far that it could hardly fold. The colorful bills inside, stacked with the money he’d been saving on his own, would have to be enough. He exhaled, pinching his nose to ward off the headache that had begun to take hold.

“Hate to say this, but thank you Shark Man,” he muttered under his breath as he pocketed the wallet once more. 

“You did end up helping. More than you know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geto struggled the whole night to think of anything but Raven, or rather…Angie. He felt defeat in every cell of his body as he watched the performances come and go in an endless daze. 

He only snapped in and out of focus long enough to bring his hands together at the end of every set, and join in on the enthusiastic applause that would intermittently wash over the room at the truly great displays. Here and there, he’d cut his eyes across the room to the balcony at which a shock of white hair reminded him of the events that transpired just a few hours before.

And every time, he swore that the boy had been looking his way too.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gojo clutched the coin in a white knuckled grip, his jovial spirit from the alleyway since replaced with a broiling rage. 

He peered across the theater as the dark haired boy postured in his chair, nodding thoughtfully, waving away champagne, and surveilling the stage intently as if forming a philosophy about the way the floorboards looked in the spotlight. 

Gojo had sobered- especially after the first few courses of lobster and Wagyu steak had hit his stomach, spaced out by the delicious Yubari King melon palette cleansers- and he’d finally come to his senses about what’d transpired just hours earlier.

Tipping his lenses, he opened his hand, palm up, to check the coin.

Melting, but not yet ready to view. 

Damn, how long was this going to take?

~~~~~~~~~

Geto checked his coin. The grooves around the edge had turned transparent, the inky center slowly following suit. Somewhere inside him, something whispered to him that he’d been tricked- that this was no Bidder’s Coin, in fact, it was a loser’s coin, just for him. He stuffed that part of him deep, suffocated it with all of the faith he could muster for Angie. She hadn’t brought him all this way just to lead him on. Right?

Right. 

He placed the coin back into the palm of his hand and squeezed, hoping that if the coin were anything like him, the pressure would make it break down faster. As he did so, his eyes dipped into the crowd pooled beneath his box as they watched the next display.

Somewhere in the crowd were two more coins. He thought, bitterly. And whoever they are, I will beat them, like nothing more than a curse beneath my feet.

Finally, Geto watched as a man with a slicked ponytail, accented with shaved sides, came onto the stage. His tuxedo was sharp, although it looked as if he'd bought it at the beginning of the Shōwa era.

The man waited for the crowd to notice his presence, standing silently with his hands behind his back until they naturally lowered their voices and gave him center stage.

"Now, I know that this has been an exciting night for people in our industry." His eyes crinkled as he smiled. "I truly hope that these amazing performances have enriched you all." 

He cast his eyes down into the darkened theater, as if searching for the no doubt anticipatory faces of his companions.

"I would like to take this time to thank our donors by name…"

Come on, get on with it.

Gojo removed his glasses and massaged his eyes, trying to dislodge the frustration that had begun to take hold. The coin was in his hand, finally melted by his body heat, but the host had purposely lowered the lights to near blackness so that no one could see what their results were. 

A hand slid across his back, over his shoulder, and down to the left breast of his blazer; he felt lips on his right ear.

"Tira…" he murmured, his eyes popping open, but not daring to look.

The lips pressed to the shell of his ear.

"It's me." He could hear the smile in her voice. The air off of her lips made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"The moment has come, little prince. Have you chosen destiny or will you follow fate?"

"I don't know what that means."

"You will," her stiletto nails slowly, deliberately, raked his hair from the nape of his neck to the crown of his head before tangling and guiding him into a kiss.

He fell into her, wondering somewhere far away in his mind if anyone could see them in the dark. Yet, with her this close to him in public, the taboo escaped him; it barely registered to him that anything existed outside of her scent, and her lips.

It was sloppy and quick, but it was all he needed. He sighed into her mouth, eyes fluttering closed. 

"I'm spending all my money on Angie tonight, aren't I?"

She giggled, and he felt a tent begin to grow in his tailored pants.

"She worked hard on this, so please try to enjoy the show while you do. I'm retiring for the night. Sayōnara."

And as if she'd been a dream, she withdrew from his senses before her departure could even register on his dulled brain.

“At last, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.” The announcer threw up his hands as if conducting a vast orchestra, “We see who will be bidding to take home tonight’s gorgeous Black Swan. Lift the lights, and let us see the results of the Black Coin Ball!!!”

The lights lifted in the opera house and everyone’s arms shot into the air as they held their coin to the light.

Gojo paled. He’d already known, but somehow seeing the clover made it more real. He snapped his head to the open crowd, immediately searching for his friend’s expression across the room as his heart hammered against his ribcage. 

No, no, no.

He waited for his friend to address him, his mind racing to navigate the catastrophe that was surely about to take place.

Gojo watched as Geto opened his hand, extended his arm, and looked into his coin. After a beat the boy’s narrow, onyx eyes slid to his own, and he knew.

The Bidder’s coins had found them.

~~~~~~~ 

Above the boys, in the grandest box seats the theatre had to offer, a large, leathery fist clutched the third bidder’s coin; it was so small in the man’s calloused hand that it resembled a lima bean in the fist of a giant.

Takete, revered kingpin of Japan's most formidable mob to date, the Dragons, smiled down into the small, plump face of his wife Michi as she gazed out into the audience. The room fell into pandemonium as everyone checked their neighbor for the coveted coins.

“Have we won, my dear?” She purred, her shiny red lips parting on the smoke of her tapered cigarette stick.

“We have. It’s a shame I can’t seem to find my wallet.”

“It’ll turn up.” She replied, placing a red taloned hand on his broad lap. “The boys are using their quirks to find it now. Here’s hoping that whoever took it had a damn good reason.”

Below them, the long-lapelled man addressed the crowd once more.

“Excellent. And now, may our bidders ring their bells!” The announcer eyed the room expectantly.

Ding.

Takete’s gaze found the white haired boy. Gojo, was it?

Ding.

He slid his attention to the dark haired boy that he’d found fighting Gojo in the alley. His surprise was so palpable that his wife felt it through touch. She faced him head on, her face a question.

“Do you know them?” 

He tossed her a mischievous smile as he raised his own hand and rang the third bell.

Ding!

The boys’ head’s shot up in unison to see him grin, his sharp teeth even visible from that far below. He addressed them in turn, realizing that he’d been roped into a much bigger scheme than he’d first expected when he’d waltzed into the theater.

“What have you got planned, Tira?” Takete had asked of his favorite concubine only weeks prior.

“Nothing much, just love and war.” 

She’d smirked at him from across the table, the party of Dragons that accompanied him paying them little attention as they were entertained by the other attractions of the club.

“All I need you to do is hold a coin and keep a promise.”

“What promise?”

“The one you made to Raven- that you would let her take her trips around the sun undeterred.”

It became immediately clear where his wallet had gone; if he’d learned anything about Gojo, it was that he could back himself up. But what about his friend?

He winked at the dark haired boy, and the kid balked, averting his gaze.

“May you win the night, young man” he toasted the boy.

Because you’ll soon learn that my loans are repaid in blood.

“Please remember, fellow patrons, that even if you have not won the chance to bid for the girl, that any number of women that you’ve seen tonight are up for the taking. We also encourage gambling, as we watch our bidders take on the challenge of securing our most exquisite prize.”

~~~~

So they get to bet on us? Gojo wondered. Interesting. I'll have to get in on that….if anyone will take my bet, that is.

His eyes flickered to Geto's slumped figure, eyeing Takate in his box. Gojo looked up into the box himself, the man toasting his friend. 

Ugh. Not while he's in the ring.

Unless…

"Fate finds those who choose no destiny. Fine, Tira. I'll bite."

~~~~

A gleam came to the announcer's eye for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued.

“However, there will be no cheering, sneering, choking, fighting, or killing, as the performance is taking place, please.” 

Chatter enveloped the room, and white betting cards began to fly to and fro, waiters rushing to collect them from the rabid crowd. Every now and then, to the boys’ distress, the sea of onlookers glanced up at the balconies where the bidders sat, the undecided checking them out to see who looked like a winner.

“And now,”

The spotlight snapped into place at center stage.

“Let the games begin!”

The theater dropped to black, and bright white letters were projected onto the closed

curtain:

INTERMISSION

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[weepylucifer]

24. "You're trembling." steban/ulixes

The whole mess starts like this: one afternoon, Ulixes doesn't turn up to the reading group meeting.

His absence is a stark confrontation with the fact of how alone Steban is. Thus far, as long as at least Ulixes was still coming to the meetings regular as clockwork, Steban could go on with business as usual and put off reckoning with how solipsistic his little pretense at a revolutionary cell has become. Pretend like any educating of anyone in matters of radical theory was still being done here... like other members could walk in at any moment and give the whole thing a purpose again. Now, with Ulixes absent, Steban sits and waits and drinks too much coffee and feels, though he tries to ignore it, a bit like an idiot with his metaphorical dick in his hand.

He considers his options: he could go out and try to recruit again, he could go to bed and have a depressive episode, he could do serious self-critique about where the reading group went astray and why, he could wallow in his misery about driving his friends away with leftist infighting. He could disband the reading group. He could steal Cindy's pyrholidon and get high. He could go to Uli's apartment and start a huge fight about his perceived betrayal. He could get high, go to Uli's apartment, and have a sobbing breakdown about how Uli is his only friend and Uli's absence would destroy his life.

All those destructive impulses are eventually pushed aside, and Steban decides he will go to Uli's apartment, to check if there's something wrong with him. Uli has never missed a meeting before. Maybe it's not betrayal yet. Maybe there's something he needs...

When he, an hour later, knocks on Uli's door, Ulixes opens looking perturbed and disheveled, but at least he doesn't seem sick or hurt.

"Hi," Steban says. "You--"

"Oh no. The meeting..." Ulixes looks so caught out and almost frightened that whatever was left of Steban's sense of betrayal immediately evaporates. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to miss it, I've been out all day and... I only just came back here, you have to believe me..."

Steban raises a hand. He doesn't like seeing his friend so anxious. "It's alright. What's going on?"

Ulixes suddenly slumps against the doorframe, his skinny form bending like a defeated reed. "It's Comrade Reading, he's... gone missing."

Ah, yes, Required Reading. Uli's new kitten. Uli's new kitten that Steban is all support for, because Uli having a gentle, non-violence-related hobby must be encouraged... as long as the cat doesn't come close enough to Steban to shed hair on him.

Steban likes houseplants. They're his preferred way of existing alongside nature as a communist should. They're pretty, quiet, predictable, and can be raised according to a manual. They don't yell at him in the middle of the night, or scratch him, or bite him, or break his things, or shit in a box he has to clean, or mess up his cleanly, tidy, pleasant little apartment. Besides, something about this particular cat is... strange. It meows and purrs and cuddles and plays and whatever else the things do, but there's something Steban can't put his finger on that is... weird. The less he sees of it, the better.

Still, if Uli wants a cat, a cat he shall have. If Uli wants to spend every moment of his free time with a cat and not his human best friend who can actually carry a conversation and doesn't smell like litterbox, well... so be it. Who is Steban to question his tastes?

"I opened the door briefly to get the mail and he darted out past me," Ulixes is saying. "I've been looking for him all day."

"Oh," Steban says, then makes an effort to imbue his voice with more sympathy, "I mean... oh."

Now, he expects, is when Uli is going to channel his concern for his pet into rage, the way he usually does, and vow some vague idea of vengeance onto the universe for making this happen to him. Now he'll say something over the top like swearing to murder whoever should dare harm or withhold his cat from him in several grisly and overly specific ways that will leave Steban a mixture of nauseated and fondly exasperated, because it's clear that while Ulixes dreams (in graphic detail) of violence, he has never actually experienced it up close, and these fantasies are just how he copes, and...

"This is all my fault," Ulixes whispers, and Steban is shocked to see his eyes beneath his glasses growing damp, "I'm so bad at this, and now I messed it all up."

He sits down on his desk chair and buries his head in his hands. "Why did I ever think I could take care of something? He could die out there, and it's my fault."

There's nothing for it. Steban's still not exactly fond of the cat, but... seeing Ulixes this quietly devastated turns the world inside out. Steban thinks, I need you like I need my limbs and blood and beating heart, and puts his hand on Uli's shoulder. "We'll look for him together."

----

They make missing posters and print them on campus, and Steban volunteers to help put them up around Uli's neighborhood. They spend the rest of the day looking for Required Reading, even when it gets dark, even when it starts to rain. Eventually, Steban makes Uli take a break. Ulixes resists it, but at some point, he does have to sleep. Steban stays with him as their rain-soaked clothes dry over the heater, and softly reassures him as he drifts into an uneasy sleep.

Two days go by. The rain doesn't let up. Ulixes keeps searching for Required Reading, and Steban supports him, though privately he's beginning to lose hope for the whole endeavor. Revachol is gigantic, and there are myriads of ways for a very small cat to vanish in it. And of course Steban is sad for Uli's sake, because Uli really loved - loves - that cat, and taking care of something small and vulnerable has revealed a new side of him, one that Steban finds intriguing. But... a part of him, a part he tries to ignore because he's not quite comfortable with having it in him to think so lowly, is... not too bothered by the prospect of things going back to how they were before Required Reading appeared. Back when he- when the reading group had Uli's undivided attention. When Uli was focused on him the cause. When Uli would look at him with adoring eyes and--

Stop, Steban tells himself. That's a scummy way to think, and wholly inappropriate when it comes to your comrade. Of course you want him to get his cat back.

He should interrogate that entire train of thought, practice self-critique and remind himself of the incompatibility of Mazovian thought with such... greedy possessiveness. But he's not ready to examine himself in this instance, so he pushes it all down and out of sight.

It's ironic then that, on the third day, Steban finds the cat first.

He's on his way to Uli's apartment. It's still raining and he doesn't have an umbrella, so he's steadily getting soaked through. All he really wants is to get out of the weather. Still, he pauses when he hears, from across the deserted square, a tiny cry, like a baby, or a...

...kitten.

They've pinned one of the missing-cat-posters to a lamppost on the sidewalk here three days ago. Now, under the lamppost, crouched under a soggy, discarded newspaper that offers only scant protection from the elements, there he is, meowing plaintively for help: Required Reading. His fur is plastered to his body with rainwater, but it is him.

(It would be so easy for a passerby to recognize that this is the cat on the poster. Almost as if he sat himself down here on purpose... but surely that's impossible. Cats can't read, or recognize themselves on pictures.)

(Weird.)

Steban shakes his head. It's probably just a coincidence. He'd better scoop the cat up before he runs away, hope he doesn't get his arms scratched up, and bring the little thing home to Uli. Cautiously, he steps closer.

Sigh. Here goes nothing...

Suddenly, he hesitates. A thought unfolds...

Maybe he could just... keep walking. Pretend he didn't see. Ulixes would never know. He'd be sad for a while, but eventually he'd recover, and then they'd spend time in their meetings again like they used to... no more cat hair on his clothes, no more mess, no more having to feign interest in an animal he honestly finds a bit off-putting... and Uli's attention would not waver again, and Steban would never have to ask himself what he even is without Ulixes.

He stands in silence while the rain beats down.

Required Reading has stopped crying. He's seen Steban and, doubtlessly, recognized him. He doesn't scamper up to him like Steban supposed he might. He simply looks at Steban with eyes that seem way too intelligent, and in this moment Steban is convinced that somehow the cat knows what he's thinking. Knows that Steban is considering abandoning him here.

Weird!

Or maybe that's just his conscience?

"This is nonsense," Steban mutters to himself. Of course he's going to bring the cat back to Uli. Because that's the right thing to do, and it'll take the anguish off of Uli's mind, and surely Uli will be so relieved and thankful. Steban can just picture it: his normally reserved friend smiling and hugging Required Reading close to him, and maybe then he'll set the cat down and hug Steban, too, and express his gratitude and regard for how Steban went above and beyond for him... maybe there'd even be a kiss on the cheek in it for him...

But no. Why would there be? Steban is used to kisses from his family members as casual displays of affection, that is just their way, but if Ulixes did that... if Ulixes kissed him on the cheek, it would be different, it would mean something.

Despite the rain, he blushes. What is this thought? What is he considering here? And anyway, he's not supposed to do things because he expects a reward. Again, what an inappropriate thought to have, about a comrade no less. He can't just stand here getting lost in... whatever this is. There's a task to do.

Slowly, carefully, telegraping his movements, he crouches down and reaches for Required Reading. By some miracle, the cat doesn't spook. He lets Steban scoop him up, his small, shivering body almost eclipsed completely by Steban's slender hands.

"Aww, pobrecito," Steban murmurs, dutifully, because that seems like the sort of thing one says. "You're trembling... come here, let's get you home."

"Mrreeep," Required Reading says, huddling closer to Steban's body heat.

Steban tucks him underneath his jacket and continues on his way. It's still pouring down upon him, and the cat sneezes into his armpit, but he barely notices, his head swimming with thoughts of what awaits him: the warm and dry apartment, maybe some hot coffee, the opportunity to bring Ulixes a wonderful surprise, the dread and self-recriminations leaving his comrade's face and being replaced with joy, the feel of his body pressed against Steban's in an exuberant embrace, the gentle rasp of his beard against Steban's own stubble when the--

Hm.

As Required Reading, bundled up under his jacket, starts to purr, Steban begins his struggle to contend with the fact that, apart from everything else he's got going on already, he now apparently dreams of his comrade's kiss.

[pabit]

good evening. my best wishes to you, and habit’s recovery.

i also see you made cookies. do you like to bake?

Ah. A question about me, hm? I’m flattered - no one else usually gives a shit.

Say, why don’t I tell you all a little bit about myself? I’ve got the time to type.

—

Hundreds of lives ago, our mother taught Michael how to bake when we were ten years old. Michael got really good at it, so I also decided to pick it up too. I would practice making bread in the middle of the night and rob him of sleep so he couldn’t practice during the day. I thought it would make me feel as good as it did for him, especially if I was better than him at it. Well…

After dying in that life, we start all over again somewhere new as always. One summer- we're about 15 years old and just wandering aimlessly on the beach while we talked and enjoyed the sunshine. Then we started bickering over something so stupid I didn't bother to remember what it was. We're just throwing around petty insults and then I say, "I bet you couldn't bake a cake even if the only ingredient was shit."

We stop walking and Michael goes, "well duh, I don't even know how to bake." I didnt say anything for a moment, and Michael continues humorously, "but I bet I could still bake a better shit cake than you!”

I couldn't keep up the bickering after that...even though Michael remained cheerful, I just felt this horrible, aching sadness; like a hole had opened up inside me.

We went home without further argument.

Just the life prior Michael had been an amazing baker in his own right. It made him happy. I may have hated it before, but it was true. Now he knew nothing, straight back to square one, completely unaware of this fact.

Except I knew, and I felt terrible because...well, I could still remember how to bake. I've never forgotten. But Michael would have to relearn everything, including the things that helped us both survive the darkness we were stuck in.

How awful is that? Never being allowed to keep even the most innocent of memories, only for me to be the one stuck with them all. What am I supposed to do with that? Let it all go to waste?

15 year old me was pretty fucked up by this awareness for sure. I kept going over it in my head trying to make sense of things, and what I concluded was this:

My job is to protect Michael's happiness, not rob him of it for myself and do nothing with it. I felt like I stole something precious from Michael that day. I was a selfish fool; being “better” at Michael never actually made me happier in the grand scheme of things. So…

I decided I'd continue baking, from that life onwards, in honor of the memory Michael lost. I’ll hold onto it for him. I had the power to make him a little happier, even though I felt like I could only bring him pain.

Despite the tall cunt and despite my own destructive tendencies, I still managed to leave a tray of Michaels favorite treats by our bedside at least once a week.

So you could say I enjoy baking…but only because I know how much it makes other people feel better. I get nothing else out of it. It’s taken a long time to not be bitter, and I’ve done a lot of fucked shit because of it, but I’ve learned how to channel it into something positive now I think.

—

Anyways, that’s my story about the baking thing. I have many stories, but I should probably leave it at that for the moment.

Habit looks to have stopped shaking so much, but still hasn’t touched the cookies. Rude I say - my cookies are freaking awesome. I’m going to put my phone down and try talking to him again soon. -P

>>

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

May I please get Nikolai just being nice to Riot? Just comforting her in way, he can. Or maybe just cheering her to keep being beautiful and mischievous, as she already is?

I mean a little text, not a render.

Disclaimer: Extended Russian sentences between <>

Setting: Near future, when the investigation about HeadHunters is on again (will be expanded in the fanfic). After Darker Matters (and their reunion)

I can't make a little text, omg...

Solntse moye: my sun

Solnyshko: sunshine

"I'm fine"

"I know your 'I'm fine's very well, but ok. We'll speak tomorrow. Now try to sleep"

"Sure. Good night, Kate"

Riot hung up the hotel phone before Laswell answered, and left it carefully on the bedside table, drowning the urge to yank it off and throw the device against the wall.

The day had been draining, being interrogated over and over and over again. Going over her training, Gibraltar, HeadHunters, Transnistria. To the point of being physically sick due to the memories and having to rush to a public toilet right after stepping out of the hearing hall, followed by a very worried Gabi and Kate.

The previous day had been the same. And the following day, there would be more of the same shit.

"Me cago en la puta (very ugly Spanish swearing)" She hissed, through gritted teeth, sitting alone on the bed of the hotel suite in London where the investigation committee had made her stay at. "Me cago en la madre que me parió (another ugly variant of ugly Spanish swearing)"

Alone. The only sound came from the TV, showing a music videos channel.

None of the 141 had been allowed off duty to accompany her. Price had fought against it, but in the end, what Headquarters said, went.

Her only company and support were Kate Laswell and Gabi, but they weren't allowed to sit during the hearings either.

She wasn't allowed to call or receive external calls, and her phone was in Laswell's hands for keeping. So she didn't even have the comfort of venting to Johnny or Kyle, to complain to Price, or be appeased by Simon.

God, she needed Simon. So much that every cell in her hurt.

Alone with her thoughts and with only the TV to keep her company, she thought she'd go crazy before dawn, prowling through the suite like a caged animal.

But there was a knock on the door, and she stared at it, frowning. She wasn't supposed to see anyone. From the hotel to the government building and back, with guards. No visitors, no calls.

Whoever it was, they knocked again, and Riot stood up to go to the door. If someone finally came after her, like with the other former HeadHunters operators, so be it.

But it wasn't a former 'colleague', or anything of the sorts, who was standing there as she opened the door. For a second she was speechless, but then tried to be as deadpan and sardonic as always, but her eyes betrayed her.

"I didn't order a Russian fixer to room service"

"Ah, solntse moye, but I'm sure you'll let your Russian uncle inside" Nikolai smiled, with the mischievous grin that was so typical of him, that sometimes infuriated so many people, but in that moment was what she needed the most.

Without a word she dove right into his arms, burying her face in his chest and gripping that stupid striped t-shirt whose name always escaped her. She could feel the rumble in his chest as he laughed and hugged her tightly.

"What are you doing here? How the fuck did you know I was here?" Christine muttered, so pathetically relieved that she felt a knot in her throat and stomach. Trying to regain her composure, she released him and stepped back a bit. "And how did you enter the hotel? It's supposed to be guarded. Is Olga here too?"

"<One thing after the other, my little sunshine>" Nikolai looked at both sides of the corridor and then pushed her inside to close the door after them. "I'll start with the last because it's easier. I have my methods, one day I'll teach you. Olga couldn't come, she's taking care of some business but sends her love"

Christine looked even sadder for a moment, but smiled and allowed him to guide her to the sofa in front of the TV to sit down, with Nikolai holding her hand.

"What are you doing here, Nikolai?"

"Tsk, tsk, solnyshko, so impatient" He laughed, tapping with his fingers on the back of her hand. "I came to visit you, of course! A little bird told me you could use a friendly face"

"Does that little bird have muttonchops?" She kept smiling although she rolled her eyes, so visibly happy that she couldn't care less about the dull pain on her face due to the strain on the scar tissue. "Or was it Kate?"

"To be honest... both of them" Nik dragged Christine closer, to wrap an arm around her shoulders. She wordlessly snuggled against him, feeling a bit better. "John told me that you were forced to come, to give your statement, and that you were all alone. And Kate very kindly told me the hotel where they're keeping you. And here I am"

"... were you even in the country?" No way. There was no way that Nikolai had been in the UK by sheer coincidence right when she was alone and pathetic.

"What does it matter, solnyshko?" Nik smiled indulgently, running his fingers through her hair as one would do with a little kid. "<I am here now, and that's what matters>"

"But why?" Christine insisted, and he just shrugged, without losing his smile.

"What do you mean, why? Because you needed me, solntse moye"

In other circumstances, in other company, she would have been able to control herself. But after two days of having to explain what happened, in detail, to a group of unknown people who had too much chest candy, without Johnny to be her rock, without Kyle and his calm reassurance, without Price's immutable support, without Simon, Christine felt drained, spent, exhausted and disheartened.

Therefore, when the tears started to fall, she could do nothing to stop them, and sobbing, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Nikolai just held her, murmuring soothing nonsense in Russian while rubbing her back and running his fingers through her hair.

And she told him everything. Every single horrible, questionable, bloody, painful detail, wanting to die all over again, feeling shame all over again, feeling the rage that darkened her soul. How she was abused and tortured. How she was made to stare at the rotting bodies of her squad.

How she had murdered every single one of her captors until only the leader was left, and how she had tortured him for hours until she finally set him on fire while still alive.

At times Nikolai felt anger and clenched his jaw, staring at the void she was unveiling before him, but his hands kept gently craddling the little girl in his arms, his little sunshine, so brave, so scared and so hurt.

"You did what you had to, little one" He cooed, his voice as calm and nonchalant as always. "You tell your privates that in your self-defence classes, da? Survival is the only goal, by any means needed. And you survived"

She only nodded silently, and Nik kissed gently her hair.

"The only thing I regret of all this, solntse moye, is that you didn't leave anyone alive for me"

"That's what Ghost said" Christine laughed quietly. "And Price"

Nikolai felt better seeing that she laughed and smiled again, and brushed one thumb on her cheeks to wipe away her tears.

"There's my sunshine"

"I don't feel very shiny" She muttered, with a sad little smile, and Nikolai laughed softly, keeping her snuggled and comfortable in his arms.

"Tomorrow will be another day, solnyshko"

"I have to go in again"

"And I'll be waiting when you get out. I promised John you wouldn't be alone"

The music channel on the TV had started showing music videos from the sixties and seventies, and when one song in particular started to fill the room, Nikolai's ears perked up.

Here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo

Here comes the sun, and I say

It's alright

"The Beatles. My grandma liked them" Christine smiled, and Nik looked at her, pretending to be offended.

"Are you calling me old, little one?"

"If it walks like a duck, and sounds like a duck..." She grinned mischievously, more like her usual self.

Little darlin', the smile's returning to their faces

Little darlin', it seems like years since it's been here

Nikolai dragged her up to their feet, and grabbing her hands forced her to twirl, following the music.

"What are you doing?" Christine giggled, allowing it, as they danced to Here comes the sun.

"Making sure you don't think about today or tomorrow, solntse" Nikolai made her twirl again, grinning. "Just enjoy the music. Soon everything will be over and you'll be able to go back home"

"Home" Christine sighed, thinking of her newfound family that she needed so much, and Nik nodded.

"Home. And I'll take you there"

[nerdyvocals]

Hi there! @look-at-those-niceass-rocks and I are back on our bullshit with some unhinged movie-night quotes, this time with the first Descendants film. Previously, we've had some shit to say about Rise of the Pink Ladies and Julie and the Phantoms. This is the first actual movie we've watched for these movie-night quotes, so it's a long one. Buckle up, and enjoy the ride!

Bee: "Elected king"? That's not how democracy works.

Bee: How is he inheriting the crown if his dad is still alive???

(Note: For those not aware, hi, I'm a costume designer and technician, I usually have Things To Say about costumes, including the following Several Minute Rant)

Me, two minutes into the movie: PAUSE, okay I have opinions here Bee: Okay? Me: Okay so this is a fitting, right? I appreciate the big stitch lengths, that's accurate, but this should be a mock-up, with muslin! Why is it made of the fashion fabric??? Bee: This is riveting

Me: Why are his sleeves finished off? Where are the pins? Is that a hand back stitch??? Bee: *cackling*

Bee: YOU CANNOT BELIEVE IN THE DIVINE RIGHT OF KINGS AND DEMOCRACY

Me: Why did they give Ben a bust dart? Does he have tiddies??? Bee: TRANS BEN???

Bee: I'm gonna take a drink every time you go on a costume rant. Me: LISTEN

Bee (@Evie and Mal): So they're lesbians, right? Me: OH HO HO, YOU'D THINK SO WOULDN'T YA

Bee: You said Kenny Ortega did this, right? Me: Yep! Bee: That. SO very tracks.

Evie: *flirting* Bee: Ahhh, performative heterosexuality!

Me: Her love interest is so [HUSBAND]-coded; you're gonna lose your mind

Bee: Ah yep, Kenny Ortega choreography

Bee: IS THAT FUCKING KRISTEN CHENOWETH??? Me: YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT???

Both of us, anytime Carlos is on screen: He Baby

Bee: I bet AO3 had a field day with this franchise

Bee: Ohhhh, look at that shitty marching band, let me at 'em- NONE OF THOSE PEOPLE ARE PLAYING THOSE INSTRUMENTS Me: *wheeze*

Bee @ Audrey: Oh THATS a lesbian Me: I COULD GO ON A RANT and I won't until we have more context!

Me: Look, Evie's love interest is a dude but I choose to believe that he's a he/him lesbian so it works

Mal: And I totally don't blame your grandparents for inviting everyone in the whole world but my mother to their stupid christening! Me: Look, christenings were public events! They had to go out of their way to tell Maleficent not to come! Bee: Right! Like it was more work to have someone find her to tell her not to come! She would've stayed away if you just kept your mouths shut! Me: Not to victim blame, but don't fuck with the fae if you don't want the fae to fuck with you Bee: No I'm victim blaming in this one instance, that was fucking stupid

Doug: Hi-ho... Bee: Oh god he is [HUSBAND]-coded

Carlos: Die, suckers! Me: Let Carlos say fuck! Bee: He would say it constantly

Jay: *ninja kick through the door* Bee: Dumbass

Carlos: *trying to help Jay up* Me: *sobbing* He baby!!! Bee: He wants to help his brother!!!

Bee, already tipsy: I think every time we say "he baby" I need to drink water

Me: Hnng I remember being obsessed with Mal's outfits as a 14yo but looking at it now as a costume designer, I can't tell if I still love it or if I kinda hate it. Bee: Lemme take a drink and you elaborate. Me: There's something kinda off-putting about it and I can't tell if it's because it reeks of 2015 Disney Channel-which is not a bad thing!-or if I just don't think the design works. Bee: It looks like they were going for scene but didn't really know what scene was

Me: I think we should also take a drink whenever we say "that's gay"

Both: STOP BEING MEAN TO JANE SHE'S SO CUTE

Ben: *trying to convince Carlos Dude won't hurt him* Me: For the trans!Ben headcanon, I know that's just a weird fuckin' seam on his shirt, but it looks like a binder

Honorable mention: Us constantly screaming at evie that she's allowed to be smart

Bee: Hey, [HUSBAND], Wanna come see a character that's you coded???

Evie: *making clothes* Me: THAT SEWING MACHINE IS SEXY

Me @ Lonnie: I wouldn't call that cool hair Bee: Oh now she's cool, she ripped her skirt

Mal: I think it's time Benny Boo got himself a new girlfriend Bee: Girl he is right behind that door

Mal: *wipes Lonnie's tear* Bee: LOOK AT HER FACE, see that? That was a gay awakening

Me during Did I Mention: Guess what Bee: Huh? Me: That's not him singing Bee: *gasp* They Troy Bolton'ed that man

Bee: There are. Not enough trumpets in this band Me: Nerd

Talking about the Maleficent movie and how I've never seen it Bee: Oh god, you would've been like. 12 Me: Or 13 depending on the time of year! Bee: It came out in May Me: ...Okay yeah I would've been 12 Bee: I can do math! [HUSBAND], distantly: Citation needed! Bee: HEY!!!

Ben: Is this your first time? Bee: HUH???

Me: What was he trying to accomplish here? Like he didn't tell her they were going somewhere they might need swimsuits, was he trying to get her in her underwear??? Bee: If it wasn't a Disney movie I'd say yes Me: Horny teenage boy

Ben: *shirtless on the cliff* Me: Good for him, he's had top surgery since the last scene

Maleficent: Still doing tricks with eggplants? Bee: Idk, ask her husband

After the cover of Be Our Guest Bee: What. Was that. Me: I know Bee: That was so bad! Me: I promise the other covers are better

Me: I hate Mal's costume in this scene Bee: Drink! Me: The purple on her blazer matches too perfectly with her hair, there's no break in the silhouette Bee: Oh yeah, I see what you mean Me: I get what they're trying to do with the lighter palette, but I'd swap the blue and purple, personally

Queen Leah: My daughter was raised by fairies Me: That was your own fault Bee: Nowhere in that curse did it say you couldn't raise her

Insert the TEN MINUTE interlude of me dying over the obscene fit of Ben's suit:

(Please note: A) his jacket sleeve is caught on his elbow, which is what's causing that FOUR INCH exposed sleeve, B) who wears a pocket square and no tie? C) the buttons are STRAINING because the suit hasn't been tailored properly, it's way too small, you're the future king and I expect better from you okay you CANONICALLY have people tailoring your clothes, and while we're on buttons, D) NEVER button both buttons on a suit jacket! If the jacket has two buttons, the top is buttoned and the bottom isn't. If it's three, top is button sometimes, middle is always buttoned, and the bottom is never. Also: Unbutton when sitting or doing physical activity, such as croquet. This has been Levi's useless button PSA)

Honorable mention: I showed my mentor this picture the next day and he gasped like he'd been shot

Jane: He's never gonna make a villain a queen Me: WE WERE ROOTING FOR YOU! Bee: WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU!

Me: she's not ugly, she just has a fuck ass bob

Bee @ Beast: Oh why'd they give him glasses, now he's hot

Mal: How do you know that?? Ben: because I'm listening to my heart! Bee: Gay Mal: I'm listening to mine too Bee: DOUBLE gay

Bee: I love how you can soo very see all these frozen people moving

Maleficent: *Dragon Time (tm)* Bee: FOUND THE BUDGET

Jane: Guess I did get pretty lucky in the mother department Me: Speaking of mothers can someone please catch the lizard Bee: PLEASE

Side note, my internet was wigging out and the stream kept freezing, particularly during Set It Off Me, struggling with the connection: And what if I cry Bee: Limping toward the finish line Me: What if I cry and commit arson

Mal: You didn't think that was the end of the story, did you? Bee: Well that was fucking ominous We watched Descendants 2 as well!

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls- Season 2, Episode 16, "There's The Rub", aka A Sheer Masterpiece of GilmoreDom, AKA The Gilmore Geller Mariano Trio, And Everything is Right With The World Until Forrester Shows Up, Part 4

I realized I’ve been spelling Dean's last name wrong all this time (it's only one R, not two) but I'm going to keep misspelling it on purpose because it's what he fucking deserves, frankly. You can find parts 1-3 and all other episodes I've recapped in my pinned post. Leggo.

All of the purest and most heartwarming episodes & scenes are the ones that take place outside of Shit's Hollow. Emily and Lorelai at the spa. The Bangles Concert. The time the Dragonfly Inn crew+ Rory and Emily went to a drag show. That time Lane and Rory went to Madelyn & Louise's party and Lane danced with Henry. Various scenes that take place at the mall. Rory's trip to New York City to see Jess (MY FAVORITE EPISODE). The time Jess, his uncle and his stepfather took him to see some naked mud wrestling (ah, family bonding).

It does not get any better than this, people. Let us all bask in this warm, peaceful glow, the smell of french fries, the sound of gentle literary debate, the absence of Dean, Lorelai and all of the other loudmouths of Shit's Hollow, who are safely (if temporarily) contained in secondary locations. *breathes in* Ahhhhhh.

Person: Hey ThoughtsWhileWatching, what day of the week is it? Me: Idk but I will never forget the weird way Milo held this can of salt

The fact that a friendship between Paris and Jess wasn't allowed to develop past this episode, in large part due to Dean Ruins Everything Forrester, was another one of AmyShermanPalladino's high crimes she needs to answer to. (and let's not even start on how a nice little friendship based on a shared interest in music could have formed with Lane but AmyShermanPalladino decided to make Lane salty at Jess for no reason until literally the last episode before he splits from Rory. I remember a scene in a later episode where Lane tries to run away to New York to meet up with her band but when she gets there she finds she's lost and in over her head I wanted her to get in contact with Jess so badly so she could have stayed with him or he could have helped her out. Speaking of salty.

He's so frigging cute, my heart hurts. Ow. The phone rings in the Gilly Girl household and this is one of the many times I wish I was still a GG virgin and didn't already know it was Dean the Serial Killer on the other end.

Someone who is already violating her boundaries by inviting himself over, knowing full well she wanted to spend the night alone, is totally going to double-super-duper respect-her-boundaries if she says no to this additional boundary violation. Asking her permission, that's rich. And Dean the Abuser totally won't triple violate her boundaries when he finds out her circumstances changed and she ended up spending her time with someone other than him. This is going to go just swell.

Oh god, she's still wearing the Quarter on a String and it's even uglier than I could have imagined! You can finally see it well in the harsh light of the Gilmore Kitchen. I still need an extreme closeup. D: I know you want to be alone but I just want to stop by for a minute and say hello. Actually, what I meant to say was, fuck you Rory, even though you told me repeatedly you wanted to be alone I'm coming over anyway because I'm an abusive piece of shit. R: But you just said hi.

R: But I look like a mess. I'm not pretty. You wouldn't recognize me. D: Fuck you I'm coming over.

Dean Forrester is a straight up horror movie villain or at the very least the villain in a bad Lifetime movie/cautionary tale about an abusive boyfriend. Gilmore Girls really is a 7 year long Lifetime movie. (for the youngn's, Lifetime Network was a tv network primarily targeting women, something akin to the current Hallmark channel, and although they had their share of wholesome movies like HC they also produced dozens of low budget movies about men who stalked and abused women) TWWGG's Memory: "Hey TWWGG, remember in 2020 when 4 years had passed since you had watched Gilmore Girls for the 1st time, and you wanted to watch it again during the pandemic, and halfway through the 1st season you said to your best friend, "boy howdy I'm glad Dean finally leaves after Jess and Rory start dating" and she said "I hate to tell you this but Dean is around untl the middle of season 5, and also Jess leaves at the end of season 3" and all the color drained from your face and your whole world crumbled to pieces?" TWGGG's Memory Replying to Her Memory: Yes. I remember.

This "Dean not taking no for an answer" is terribly frightening and disturbing. My skin just prickled. When you take into account the fear and sheer desperation in Rory's voice it gets even worse. I feel like I should be putting trigger warnings on these scenes or something?

But what? But why? FUCK YOU DEAN FORRESTER!!

Thats true, you're not ruining her night. You're ruining her life and you're ruining everything you touch. The sidewalk you're walking on doesn't even want your smelly shoes walking on it. You are Dean the Ruiner. You make this show unwatchable. I hate you. Look how proud of himself this motherfucker looks. "I just violated Rory's boundaries. I violated them so hard. I'm gonna barge into her house without her consent and yell at her in front of her friends. She’s gonna love me so much. I'm such a good Dean. Yeah." Dean's holding a bag of something that we're supposed to believe is a pint of ice cream. But this is Dean so it's probably a human head on ice and not ice cream. "Ice cream" is just serial killer lingo for "human remains."

[gtzgoblin]

I forget sometimes after not having a really shit time of it that life used to be so much more difficult.

Number of mistakes last night that for a non-diabetic person wouldn't have been an issue:

1) it's Agatha night so we need good food! We had vegan pizza in (dairy intolerance and I resent paying for Dominos when I can't personalise the pizza with non-vegan toppings) so had that. I was starving coz I'd half forgotten to eat through the day being busy so I ate the whole thing, when usually I would eat about half.

2) between the excitement of Agatha and THE AURORA I forgot to extend my bolus so just dumped 14 units straight or something

3) then thought I'd need to do a little one myself and to put a reminder in my phone, and because Agatha was so cool I forgot about that bit

4) due to the excitement of going outside and staring at the sky for ages, I then didn't keep too close an eye on my sugars

5) rage bolus at 11pm when they were 17mmol/L after remembering I'd have needed more insulin but had forgotten about it

Mistakes led to hypos ALL NIGHT. Awake like once an hour at least. But this is something I used to sleep through and later be woken up by multiple times per night by a sensor. Since I rarely have hypos now I was awake and wired from it pretty quickly.

Did I always feel this tired? Surely you don't "get used to" being this tired when you've barely slept. And before tech this must have been almost every day feeling like this.

When people are like "ah diabetes is diabetes", I wish you could channel the feeling, even just for twenty minutes. This sucks.

[devnmon]

Days Gone Bye.

Chapter One: Written in My Stars

Summary: Daryl and his brother Merle hear about the impending state of doom that's brought the apocalypse on in Atlanta. They hit the road, ending up in a nearby forest where Merle hatches a plan in order to get them "on top again", or so he says..

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Masterlist | Playlist

Chapter warnings: Merle Dixon, typical TWD violence/walkers, scary situations

wc: 3.1k

The distant echo of sirens and helicopter blades filled the sky as Daryl Dixon and his brother Merle drove through backroads in a truck, with the trailer carrying Merle's motorcycle. They'd been ready to travel back into Atlanta, until the two heard reports of people dying and coming back to life, only to become a brainless species of creatures that roamed the Earth feasting on human flesh. Luckily for the Dixon brothers, their hobbies allowed them to adapt somewhat easily to living in the woods.

Granted, nights were terrifying, having to park on the side of the road, taking turns staying up all night to watch for the dead strolling by. Due to the rising number of walkers by day, the brothers found themselves stuck in one area or another.

A while passed before Merle spoke, the two sharing a pack of Daryl's cigarettes and listening to whatever broadcast on the radio they could find. Most of the stations replayed the same message, their outage for any connection to other individuals burning out. Daryl found himself sat chewing on his nails, another anxious habit and coping mechanism he couldn't seem to break.

"Ah shit.. damn tank's empty." Merle glanced down to the fuel indicator, lingering way past empty. Startled, Daryl looked over at his brother as they noticed the truck was starting to slow on its own.

"Guess we're walkin'.." Daryl trailed off as a police vehicle came into view. "Unless..."

The breaks of the truck squealed and brought it to a full stop, getting rolled off the road. Daryl b-lined right for the police vehicle with his knife drawn, clearing his sight line for walkers.

Daryl's better judgment deceived him, knowing there was no possible way a police vehicle this intact would have any fuel or power. As he opened the door, a stench of bad coffee and stale donuts wafted right into his face. Daryl hopped into the driver's seat, checking the console and glovebox for keys to the truck, before ripping the wires out from under the steering wheel to hot-wire.

Once, twice, three times Daryl tried to start the engine up, growing frustrated and sweaty at the dried out truck.

No gasoline, no food, and no useful supplies.

Daryl almost gave up, looking around until he remembered that all police cb radios run on battery power. The truck didn't need to have gas in it, the radio had its own supply of power. His hands shot towards the black box, twisting and turning dials for a more stable connection. He came across repeats of the same message, broadcasted on most of the news and local channels.

He was persistent, relentlessly tuning the radio for any chance of survivors, thinking he failed, until he'd heard a voice from one of the channels. He clamored for the walkie attached to it, finding the button that would communicate his voice with anyone's on the air.

"Hello? Is anybody there?" He panted, waiting for a response, but only getting broken pieces of audio in return. It was nothing he could make out. he was about to try again, until Merle's voice echoed behind him.

"What the hell are you doing over there, huh? Ain't no way you're gonna get through to anyone on that piece of crap." Daryl whipped his head around to where his brother sat, giving him an unbelieving look, shook his head, and continued calling out.

"Anyone?!? Is anyone there? I'm just off of mile 41 on the highway I-"

Daryl was so focused on trying to get in contact with the voice he heard, he hadn't picked up on Merle walking toward him. Out of nowhere, he slapped the radio out of Daryl's hands before he could go any further.

"Ain't nobody there, I told ya! Nobody gon' answer ya, boy! Now you listen to me, we're gonna take whatever shit we can carry, and get the hell outta here before someone shows up! Ya hear me?!"

Always with the yelling, his brother.

"Man, ain't you wanna know if there's people out there? We should at least try!" Daryl scoffed as he threw his hands in the air, hopping out of the truck.

"Both trucks got no fuel, no food. It's a waste of time. I say we leave 'er here, mark it on a map and then come back for our shit when we settle someplace.. You good with that, baby brother?"

"When you come back for your shit, ya mean.. Whatever. Let's jus' get outta here." Daryl gathered his pack and bow and slung them on his back.

"Alright, help me hide the truck." Merle started gathering some branches, but dropped them as Daryl just stood there.

"For what?"

"So my hog don't get stolen, that's why. No reason to leave a perfectly good bike out in the open to rust." He began picking them up again, Daryl helping him do so. They rolled the truck next to the police vehicle, draping the two of them with leaves. Against the trees, there wasn't much to see when the two trucks were covered. The brothers picked up what was left of their belongings, and headed out into the forest.

Merle spent much of the day blabbering on about the kind of misbehavior he used to get into when Daryl wasn't around; but he always reminded him that blood was thicker than water, making it clear to him that nobody would be there for him like his brother was. It was one of Merle's more manipulative tactics of getting Daryl to stay by his side, since the younger Dixon believed that he could only trust family in a time like this.

"So, ya really believe all that nonsense 'bout people comin back from the dead? Chewin' on human flesh? I dunno, man.." Merle's voice cut through the silence of the path they walked.

"Seems believable enough... mean, I haven't seen one of 'em dead freaks yet but when i do, I'll let ya know." Daryl continued to stare out into the distance.

The two were thick as thieves, set loose roaming a large section of a Georgia forest. These woods were familiar to the Dixon brothers, growing up hunting and camping here after their mother died.

Daryl had always been good with a crossbow, while Merle preferred guns, their weapons somewhat a mirror of themselves in a way.

Merle always said everything he was thinking, the exact minute he thought it. Always nitpicking and going on and on and on about things from the old world he got annoyed with, and how he would change it if he could. It was narcissistic and undeniably exactly who Merle was. Daryl on the other hand, only said what upset him when Merle pushed the right buttons. Most times they hashed it out, letting it go after that.

Other times, when Merle had made it so far under Daryl's already thickened skin, was when he truly couldn't tell his brother off. Instead, he took his thoughts out in a journal. Ever since his mother gifted him one, Daryl and his journal were inseparable. He found it comforting to place his thoughts somewhere else, relishing in the fact that he was putting his brain on paper. Daryl never told anyone about this hobby of his, since Merle would belittle him for not being "man enough" and dealing with his emotions a different way. Daryl wouldn't couldn't let Merle ruin his one safe space.

He found it easier to write how he felt more naturally when he was alone. Though he was alone the majority of days when Merle was hunting, he preferred when it was safe for him to let his guard down around himself. Sometimes he wished he could tell these thoughts to a person he loved. He had his doubts to if he would ever have someone like that in his life. But Daryl would wait for that day, no matter how long it took.

The first few days of travel were rough, the two learning to get used to the elements of earth once again. They camped out every two to three days in a different area, their daily activities including collecting tinder for campfires at night, since the summer days cooled down immediately after the sun set. It wasn't until Daryl started catching squirrels that they finally didn't go hungry for days.

One particular afternoon, after his daily, more than always successful hunt, Daryl returned to Merle packing up their supplies and campsite. Daryl didn't expect to be moving this early, since the two had just set up this site the night before. The squirrels he caught flung from around his chest as he walked toward merle.

"What's goin' on? We leavin' already? Man, I jus' got back from huntin' so we could eat!" Slightly agitated that Merle hadn't said a single word since he came over, his heart rate quickened and beads of sweat began to coat his palms.

"We gotta move on, baby brother. Can't stay here forever. Plus, I got an idea." Merle's smirk plastered across his face had the telltale signs of a plan that most likely had an ulterior motive.

The gear Daryl took off of his body clattered to the ground as he began to help Merle pack up their site. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto his arm, his light colored hair damp from being out all day in the heat.

"Yeah? An' what bright idea is that?" He shared a looked with Merle, skeptical at what was about to come out of his mouth. Most of his brother's plans involved violence, or not-so-friendly actions.

"We find a camp.. small one. Not too many people. We introduce ourselves, get to know 'em. Then one night while they least expect it, we rob 'em blind."

Holy shit, my brother's gonna get me fuckin' killed.

Merle's plan left Daryl realizing his brother will never change, knowing his juvie days were most, if not all, due to theft. It was a bad plan that could get the both of them killed, but he trusted Merle more than he doubted him. He only shot him a look of disbelief.

"What? Don't look at me like that, Darlina. You know that's exactly what we got to do in this world, or we ain't gonna make it. Admit it. C'mon.. First camp we find, we just wait for our moment."

"Alright, I'm in." Merle laughed and clapped his hands together, knowing he'd just roped Daryl into another one of his devious plans. The rest of his day was spent wondering silently if he was going to follow every single little thing Merle did, including his plan to rob the first camp they found.

He couldn't be bothered to pester his brother in order to change his mind about it, Daryl knew better than that. Instead, a begrudging feeling washed over him, resent for his brother poking at him.

As night came, the brothers set up camp once again, Daryl going out to hunt for their dinner like he always did. The older Dixon set up the campfire, kindling it and keeping it low until Daryl returned with meat. It was usually always squirrel, but on some occasions, Daryl was able to find a good size bird or slightly bigger animal to sustain them for the night. The two were a good team; always had each other's backs, cracking jokes and whatnot until they eventually ended up arguing again.

This time, it was over who got the bigger piece of meat; Daryl believed he was entitled to it, being the one who always hunts for their food. Merle chose to butt in with his ever so familiar I taught you everything you know about huntin', baby brother, so you should show a little respect.

Exhausted from his travels, Daryl decided to bite his tongue and leave it at that. He scowled at his brother, watching as he chowed down on the bigger piece of meat, leaving his brother the less-meaty other half. Daryl grunted to himself as he ate, picking the bones clean and flicking them off into the distance. He glanced over at his brother once more as Daryl stood, picking up the strap of his pack and flinging it over his shoulder, doing the same with his bow.

"Takin' a piss. Be back." He glanced around the campsite, grabbing the flashlight he'd placed on the log stump near him, "An' put out the fire."

"Whatever you say, Darlina." Merle chuckled to himself, continuing to eat his portion of meat by the fire. He watched as Daryl walked away, knowing he would return sooner or later.

Daryl found himself wandering for a place to sit and relax for a few minutes without the presence of Merle. Grabbing his flashlight, he clicked it on for more visibility of the forest, although he was always aware of his surroundings. Daryl was skilled in everything Merle had taught him, almost better at everything than him. The archer was more precise, more patient, more undetectable when he hunted. Not to mention those skills coming in handy in times like this. His left hand went for his belt, the leather sheath carrying the blade Daryl's had since he was 15. It was a simple hunting knife, with a wooden handle, his initials carved into it as well.

Unsheathing the strap just in case he needed to act fast, Daryl's eyes darted around the dark forest. Only the sound of crickets and nocturnal animals filled the air, still cooling down without the sun's blazing heat. The time was lost to him as he continued to walk through the trees.

Daryl froze in his tracks as he picked up scattered footsteps nearby. The steps sounded human, but he'd been confused by the sound, since he knew Merle wouldn't leave the campsite unattended.

He crouched down behind a nearby tree, pulling out his knife and gripping it in the palm of his hand. As the footsteps grew closer, Daryl turned to the right, a large tree coming into view. This was the perfect spot he'd been looking for, until he bean to hear those same footsteps again.

Staggered, like a wounded animal, but coulda sworn those were human, unless...

In that moment, Daryl reacted the fastest he ever had, whipping his body around just in time to push away a geek one step from taking a bite out of him. This was the first one of the dead he'd come across, so he was a little overtaken by how it repeated to lunge at him, driven by the hunger death brought.

Daryl grasped for its neck, the groaning sound and stench of the dead-body-walking overwhelming him. It took Daryl a minute to realize his knife was in his hand. As a reflex, he plunged the knife into the geek's abdomen, but when it faltered only slightly, Daryl's eyes widened.

Grunting, he pushed the figure back, kicking its knee when it approached again so it fell, still grabbing for him.

"Maybe this'll do it..." He raised his right arm, plunging the blade into its forehead. A slight cracking sound was heard, before the walker ceased movement, lying lifeless on the ground.

Daryl's chest heaved, glancing around cautiously, to check if any walkers decided to tread behind the one he'd already put down. He pulled the blade out of the walker's head, the cracking of it's skull sounding out. His hand tugged at the red rag in his back pocket, cleaning the sharp metal of his knife, sheathing it back around his waist.

The first time Daryl actually looked up from the body below, a small smile cracked onto his face. Though he'd almost been food for a walker, he still thought it was the perfect place to take a seat.

"So that's what ya sumbitches look like, huh? Me, one, geek, zero."

Daryl spit at the lifeless body on the ground, and walked away.

He approached the area he'd spotted earlier, dropping his bow and pack to the ground, reaching for his pack quite quickly. The buckles clinked as his leather bag opened, rough against the skin of his fingertips. Daryl reached inside, his brain knowing what he's grabbing for. As his hand felt around in the pack, the object in mind was book-like, but not quite close. Daryl finally pulled the leather bound journal out of his pack, his hand diving right back in to find his writing utensil. He was picky with those, only wanting to use a specific type because of how smoothly they wrote.

He knew it was irrational to be picky with pens, this was the apocalypse, of course. But he always went out of his way to find more pens every time he went out, never wanting to run out of the right kind.

Daryl muttered to himself as he finally found the pen, stuffed in the bottom, under everything else. Relief washed over him as he undid his journal, flipping through pages of past entries and little drawings of things he saw on the road.

He started a new entry, labelling it 'day one' for the first day of the new world. Daryl only had one rule for himself: don't let anyone know about your journal.

God forbid Merle found out.

Daryl knew the only thing he would hear from him about it was a tangent about how soft he was, how he needed to just face his emotions like "real men do". It was just one bit of the bullshit Merle threw at him. Daryl only threw punches when his brother infuriated him to no end, always going on about some stupid minuscule thing he did before the fall. Though he felt guilty for going along with all the things Merle did, some legal, most illegal, at least he had someone that would always be there. Daryl believed that he would only have family in the end.

For now, he only had Merle.

As he sat, Daryl took the opportunity to look up at the stars that now populated the sky. He took a breath, inhaling as his lungs filled with air, and exhaling, taking the stress from his day today and letting it wash out of his body. The cool air settled on his skin, settling his heart and calming him.

Daryl finally looked down at the page, clicked his pen, and began writing.

Day one

Been out n on the road with Merle since we got back from huntin’ and everyone was sayin' the dead were walkin' round chewin' on people. So we packed what shit we had n left. Been in the woods huntin' and eatin' whatever we could manage. Merle’s been sayin we should rob the first camp we find. Dunno how I feel about it, don’t think random people deserve that shit. They deserve to survive as much as us. Hopefully we’ll find somewhere safe soon.

A/n: I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of this fic! Feedback motivates me to write more, so please don't hesitate to leave some in my inbox!!

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[misc-obeyme]

Grey Asmo here - hope you are well??

Just a litte rant before I go talk about OM.

NSFW (ALL)

I was thinking of all the Asmodeus i know shadowhunter Asmodeus does not embody lust he is more of an embodient of Wrath (since most of the princes of hell, Leviathan (envy), Belphegor (sloth), Mammon (Greed), Lucifer (Pride), Samael (Lust - since he technically is the only prince that probably loved/loves Lilith and is willing to work together to bring distruction for her), the only time my grey Asshole only emobides lust is (hinted that him and Lilith probably had a one night stand (on many occasaions). But if you look at his son (my precious baby) Magnus Bane he is more of an emobodiment of lust.

Now on to Obey me (not connected to the firdt part but still NSFW)

SO I was with a friend and we were talking about TV shows and such, and they go on about how Asmodeus would be a pimp or exploite sinners in a way that feeds his realm)

Now this got me thinking If hell/ devildom have some Human tv channels and hell channels that contain more dark and realism stuff and MC being like what the fuck..

And Satan is like (human shows are good but the demon remakes are much better) and MC finding channels that are filled with the utmost depraved lust kinda you can imagine and being scared into their brain -

They are practically immune to the horrors of hell

(Im kinda emotionally invested in Angel Dust and Ozzie)

Hello again, Grey Asmo!

Okay, so we're talking about like potential Devildom remakes of human world TV shows? And that they're just completely messed up?? Because that sounds hilarious lol.

I like the idea that they broadcast both. So if you're a demon you could potentially watch the human world G-rated version of Spongebob then flip over to the demon version and it's all fire and brimstone.

Of course if we're talking about nsfw type stuff, I don't think that'd be too much of a stretch for some of these human world shows. Or if it was really violent... didn't they make a gay show about a guy that eats people? I've seen that on the dash a lot and it looks really bloody to me. I would think something like that would feed into the gluttony sin probably.

But it's funny to imagine an MC that has no clue about any of this accidentally turning on the TV and finding horrific stuff. Well okay only if MC can handle it and isn't messed up forever after lol.

I personally would be like what the hell is this... ah yes well we are technically in hell, so I guess it's to be expected.

Personally I do okay with gore and sexy times in media, but when things get ghosty I start to freak out. Like the Sixth Sense scared the shit out of me because I was convinced I was going to start seeing dead people everywhere. Or that they were already there and I just couldn't see them which is worse. Also I was too young when I watched that so maybe that has something to do with it.

Anyway, I didn't mean to get off on a tangent here, but I like your idea of demon TV remakes.

I think I would get invested in the demon version of Days of Our Lives. They call it Nights of Our Lives lol.