#spoiler cap 24

[natstarbuck]

[mofffun]

classical painting

[mycenaae]

every week that ted lasso airs i think about that one presser that was like "there's a relationship straight out of fanfiction this season" and i just want to know what their favourite royjamie fic is

[kurishiri]

are there any official ages or age ranges for the ikemen villains characters? 🤔

expect updates and edits!

helloo anon! i dont think official ages have been posted, but they have dropped some info so we could make some guesses or ballpark ages. jus be aware as a disclaimer, i’m ballparking in the dark for some more than others, so don’t take my word as the be all, end all. there r probably others with more accurate ideas abt ages. but that said, i’ll try to provide as much explanation as i can under the cut bc spoilers-

ellis: 24

kate: at least 24, maybe around 25-26

ring, nica: 25-27 (?)

liam: 26

jude: 26-29

william: 28

elbie: 29-30

alfons: 30-31

harrison: likely 27-30, but could in all technicality be anywhere from 20-31

roger: 32, as the median

darius: ??? likely a bit older than the twins but the possibility of being the same age or younger than them isnt completely off the table either

victor: ??? but probably the oldest one in crown

explanations under the cut

ellis is the youngest member of crown. he was 12 when he ran away from home, and that was 12 years ago. hence, that would make him 24

kate calls ellis with the —kun honorific in japanese as he is her kōhai (junior), so kate is older than 24. but as ellis is the only one she uses this honorific with in crown, she may be the 2nd or 3rd youngest

liam was 9 when he set fire on his house and lost his parents, and it was mentioned his dad was supposed to be dead 17 years ago, hence making liam 26

if ellis is 24, then roger is probably around 32— we know bc alec, the previous bearer for the curse of the thorns, died when he was 8 or 9 at the oldest. in roger’s rt its implied that one is born with a curse and is first activated from an event, and no two ppl can have the same curse simultaneously, so ellis was born (and received the curse of the thorns) after alec died. so we know from there that roger could be around 8, 9 years older than ellis

it was mentioned roger is slightly older than alfons, though there is not a solid concrete number as to by how many years, but it’s around 2 to 3 years difference

jude is definitely older than ellis, though presumably not by many years. and although this is an if event, in his dark if, kate mentions that jude is a boy around her age. if we give some leeway into that and assuming that part also applies to canon, then he would probably be around 26, if kate is around 26. it is also mentioned when oswald, the doctor who saved jude, was talking about jude’s past, he was talking about a time around 20 years ago, and kate thinks to herself he couldn’t have been older than 10. this puts a cap at jude being 29 in present time.

elbies mom took her own life when he was 6, and that’s around when the doctor started examining his dad. if alfons was still on the streets at 7 years old (implied in rogers past records), he was taken in by the doctor after he was 7. it would make alfons a little older than elbie, but its unknown by how long, but not too many years

i feel in general, alfons age is a bit wishy washy considering we dont even know his “true birthday” .. he jus picked a date (specifically the day he met elbie!) and was like “ye thats my bday now 🙂‍↕️”

will was 14 when he formed crown with victor (it’s unknown how old victor was), and 14 years have since passed. this would make will 28

heavily corrected: harrison’s dad was killed when he was 17, and that happened when william and victor were the only two members of crown. so it could have happened when crown was just founded 14 years ago, making harry possibly 31. and elbie and al were probably the first ones to join crown, for sure at least 3, 4 years ago. that would set the actual age range to 20-31. but he is likely at least 27, considering kate doesn’t use —kun with him, if we assume she’s around 26

now the twins and darius r probably like the most wishy washy guesses out of all of them. for one there’s just not much info abt them out bc theyre v new chars. buut there is some tinie clues.

there is a scene in rogers rt where he asks nica if they met before, and nica replies that he forgot. now it is just as likely that nika is lying here (as its implied he has a good memory), maybe bc he doesnt want to talk abt it or it may also be for ring, but if he is truthful then its probably the case that it was from a time when he was too young to really remember anything, which would probably make him somewhat considerably younger than roger

on rings end, during the “don’t look at anyone but me” event, ring basically asks kate to not be so formal and feels weirded out she uses —san with him (.. as she does with nearly everyone else, with exception of ellis, i think liam, and for one time only, alfons). maybe a part of it is like its in his char to not like formalities, but on the other hand, he never asks alfons to drop —san or use a different honorific with him the same way he did with kate, in the crown vs vogel event. so it may be a reasonable assumption to make that ring may be similar in age to kate .. or at least, more similar in age to kate than he is with alfons. so i ballparked them around 25-27

darius is kind of a mystery— we do know that he has, in some way, saved the twins in the past (presumably from experimentation), so the twins r indebted to him. its probably reasonable to think he is older than the twins .. probably in his 30s even?

that said, seeing as he is of a noble upbringing, as he mentioned this in one of his bond stories where hes like “ik how table manners work bc its been taught to me but i jus choose not to apply them” or smth along those lines. so he could be capable of “saving the twins” even when younger than them or the same age as them if that makes sense

ty to friends @.natimiles, @.valkyyriia, @.candiedcoffeedrops, @.drachonia, @.memoria-99, @.romromi, @.groovylita, @.shatcey, @.dark-frosted-heart who have helped with this! also if anyone else has any more info to drop — or correct — feel free to lmk! i will be sure to credit :>

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

Fluff/MW3 spoiler

Listen guys. Soap making Ghost an advent calendar with every day being a small trinket with a note. And day 1 has just a bottle cap with a note: "Picked it up on our first mission together". Day 5: bags of Ghost's favorite tea "I memorized your favorite pretty quickly Lt."

He gets something every day, but there are days with things that make something in Ghost crumble.

Day 10: A bottle opener. "I snatched it from the bar the first time you agreed to go for a drink with us."

Day 15: A hand written cookie recipe. Soap's mom's handwriting. "I would never guess you liked baking, but I knew from the start that my ma' will love you."

Day 20: A small sketch of Ghost's face "I have memorized your every freckle".

Day 23: A bullet case. "I survived because I have you to take care of"

Day 24. A ring " Simon, will you marry me?"

I am in a mood ❤️

[novaazurite]

II2 16 SPOILERS, enjoy a post of me screaming in all caps about this damn episode!!!

IM ABSOLUTELY TWEAKING I WANT TO CRY SO HARD RIGHT NOW I WANT TO EXPLODE MY MIND IS ABSOLUTELY IN SHAMBLES.

FIRST OFF.

(made 04/11/24)

I CANT BELIEVE I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THOSE TWO BEING MEPHONE3G AND OG MEPHONE IM SCREAMING MY HEAD OFF FROM THIS.

3GS IS SUCH A SWEETIE! PLEASE GET HIM OUTTA THERE I WANT HIM TO BE HAPPY PLEASE LET HIM BE HAPPY.

I absolutely freaked when I saw Cabby, Candle and Goo. WHAT ARE THEY DOING HERE, I THOUGHT THEY WERE ON INVITATIONAL ISLAND.

Cobs, I hate you so much, you threw down a bombshell of a reveal. NOBODY IS FUCKING REAL. THEY WERE ALL MADE BY MEPHONE. This is why MePhone was able to recover them through MeLife, this is why he cant recover Bot, and couldnt recover Bow nor Dough, because those three are real, this is why Bow and Dough are ghosts, because they were genuinely real people.

Now it makes sense why Suitcase mentioned MePhone was gone for a day. THEY ARENT REAL THEY ARENT REAL MY LIFE IS A LIE MY LIFE IS A LIE MY LIFE IS A LIE.

Invitational did happen, its just Knife/Suitcase/Baseball/Lightbulb arent real to even notice if time has passed. If they were real, they would had have genuine reactions to MePhone straight up abandoning them for several months at best. I think this is why MePhone genuinely like Bot why they were so different to him compared to the other contestants.

THIS EPISODE FUCKING KILLED ME IN COLD BLOOD I AM NOT RECOVERING FROM THIS GOOD FUCKING BYE.

[juliamccartney]

TMAGP 24: "Celia is Secretly Jon" hypothesis holds up

i'm not one to share theories here but. after thinking about it for a while and going over the magnus protocol episodes (and re-listening to the entirety of tma) i cannot in good conscience dismiss the idea that celia is secretly jon, in one way or another. i don't know if she has his memories or echoes of what happened or they body-swapped or something but i have plenty of evidence to argue my hypothesis and i will not let it go until i have strong enough in-podcast counter-evidence

[kaitsawamura]

FICS FOR GAZA

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SERIES

East of My Heart (West of My Soul) | Estimated WC: 50K | Current WC: 25.5K | Chapter WC: 5.1K/12K | BNHA Folk Tale AU | Prince!Izuku Midoriya x Reader | 18+ MDNI

Donations Made to Sponsor This WIP: 1

SUMMARY: Your life is one that is abundant with family and the magic in small things.  But when a great white bear comes rumbling at your family’s cottage door one winter’s night, you are obviously taken aback.  Even more so when he speaks to you in a language you can understand and asks for your help.  Come away with him, live with him in the ice castle he calls home for a year and day and release him from the curse that blights him.  You agree to go with him even if as time goes along, it is very apparent that there is more to this polar bear than meets the eye.  There is more to a lot of different things as you learn to love the polar bear as friend and companion during the day but are visited by a mysterious man who insists on sleeping in your bed every night.  Can you last a year and a day to save the bear from this strange enchantment?  Will you learn the true identity of the man you’ve come to care so deeply for?  Will you find yourself (and maybe love) along the way?

The Farmer and The Wizard | Estimated WC: 50K | Current WC: 3.2K | Chapter WC: 1.2K/3K | JJK Stardew Valley AU | Wizard!Gojo x Farmer!Reader | 18+ MDNI

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SUMMARY: You need a change, a big one. When your estranged grandfather passes away and bequeaths you his farm in a little town just south of the middle of nowhere, you take it as the sign you needed to make a change instead of waiting for one. The farm, while having fallen into a state of disrepair, is just the thing to cure your modern-world ailments. The people are kind and always ready to offer help, if a bit unusual. They have old superstitions, a haunted community center, and a resident wizard. Spoiler alert: those last two on the list take some getting used to. Yes, things are different here but you have a sneaking suspicion that the slow pace and a certain alchemical practitioner are going to remind you that sometimes, all you need is time and a little bit of magic.

that's just wasteland, baby | Estimated WC: 15K | Current WC: 2.2K | BotW/TotK!Link and Zelda x Reader | 18+ MDNI

SUMMARY: Calamity Ganon has finally been vanquished for good, Link and Zelda have finally managed to break the wheel. But things are not as either of them had hoped they would be. Zelda is soon to be Queen with all the duties of such a position. Link would remain her knight and yet, he is restless. When he hears of the restoration efforts in Lurelin Village, he decides that he must go. He can’t stay cooped up within the castle walls, not after so long in the wild. Zelda and Link are unsure of the new direction their lives are taking but maybe they’ll find that their true north is you.

ONESHOTS

a shrike and a thorn | Estimated WC: 3K | Current WC: 1.2K | Priest!Kento Nanami x Congregant!Reader | 18+ MDNI

SUMMARY: You save everyone but who saves you? You don’t know what makes you step foot in that church.  But you do and you spend the next year a dutiful congregant to Father Nanami.  Devoted and kind, he’s exactly the kind of man you would expect to be a priest.  And none of this would be a problem if it weren’t for the fact that you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to see him lose his religion between your legs.  Unbeknownst to you, the good Father is having the same kind of thoughts.  Will the two of you build a new altar at which you might worship?

They Say It's Your Birthday | Estimated WC: 3K | Current WC: 1.6K | Pro Hero!Eijiro Kirishima x Reader | 18+ MDNI

SUMMARY: Strangers to lovers (they meet in the club), birthday smut for the Birthday Boy, I've had this in my drafts for literally three years to post on Eiji's birthday.

The Indomitable Human Spirit | Estimated WC: 2-3K | Current WC: 366 | Modern!Sukuna x Reader | 18+ MDNI

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SUMMARY: No description for this yet either, just wanted to explore the idea of Sukuna putting his claim on you but not in the way you'd think he would, more in like the thing about how a warring alien race comes to earth and is baffled and fascinated by the enduring human spirit.

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[haveafuckingfanfic]

*Wisdom Saga Spoilers*

CW for spoilers and TW for mental health, PTSD, S1 and Su1cide.

Many people have probably touched on this, but in the last minute of the song ‘Love In Paradise’ we hear about Odysseus’ time on Calypso’s island. He clearly is still clearly struggling with the death of Telemachus and the rest of his crew.

These lines stand out to me:

“‘Odyseus?’”

“‘All I hear are screams…’”

“‘Ody, get away from the ledge.’”

“‘You don’t know what I’ve gone through! You don’t know what I’ve sacrificed! Every comrade I long knew, every friend, I saw them die! All I hear are screams...’”

“‘You will be fine dear, come back inside dear. Love of my life comeback~

‘Every time I close my eyes…’

‘~to paradise. I know your life’s been hard, I’ll stay inside~’

‘All I hear are scream!’

‘~your heart.~’

‘All I hear are screams!!~’

‘I love your mind dear, all of our time here. Life would be so much worse if you had died.~’

‘~Just let me close my eyes!’

~Please stay away from harm. Stay in my open arms.’”

Jorge captured the affects of PTSD so well. As a PTSD survivor, it hit home. The depression that sets in after a traumatic event is very intense and can be overwhelming. For survivors, we enter a stage of our bodies and minds trying to make sense and process what had happened. This is shown by the lyric above where Ody says he hears the screams of his crew over and over.

Often time we don’t understand that the event we went through was even traumatic at all. In an effort, our brains replay the events as a way for us to process it and it often just ends up causing *more* pain without proper help. Without help, we can dive into depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation. This is clearly shown in Odysseus as well, since his brain isn’t processing what happened he then blames himself for the deaths of his crew and doesn’t know to how to live and cope with such a large tragedy.

This is also where the behavior of pushing others away comes in. This is a common behavior when you are depressed. It’s something that feels too large or traumatic to ‘burden’ others with. We withdraw the more our brain loops and struggles to understand.

If your brain doesn’t comprehend the trauma or make sense of it, it searches for escapes. Thus where suicidal ideation, hyper-sexuality, and self harm is introduced. It serves as a distraction, a way to cope or a way out of the pain. That’s why we find Odysseus contemplating and attempting suicide. He wants a way away from the way his mine plays and replays his trauma. He sees no other way out and is driven to the cliff. There’s a level of exhaustion that comes with constantly dealing with trauma, that exhaustion will also fuel suicidal thoughts.

And to circle back to the beginning, with PTSD survivors we experience a heightened sense of danger. Our fight or flight is on 24/7, so we will be slow to trust and quick to be on guard. Odysseus is showing these symptoms too, he does not trust Calypso and is quick to let her know that he doesn’t trust her.

So to cap this off, I feel so incredibly seen as a PTSD survivor. The things we go through when we are coping with our trauma and what comes with it are demonstrated clearly in this song. Thank you Jorge💗💗💗

[kaybreezy3000]

In The Flesh

Five Hargreeves / Reader Insert

Imagine that Five wasn't alone the entire time he was in the apocalypse...

-This is a special reader request for an extended scene from my Five Centric fanfic 'The Anti Hero's Pitfall of Arrogance.' Set during the apocalypse and Five is only 21.

-This request is a bit of a spoiler alert to the story that inspired it. It's written with a non-descript female character with no name, only referred to as she or her, so it's sort of a reader insert/you sort of vibe, or you can think of it as simply someone that Five loved. Think of it as you or someone else, either way, it's sad. 😭

Heed the warnings and click the link in the summary to read the full story if you want to get the full picture of what led up to this very sad moment for our favorite guy.

Warning: possible triggers, suicidal thoughts/behavior issues, alcohol abuse/excessive drinking, extreme grief/loss, graphic description of death/corpse, we get some Dolores in this, meant to be very sad, this fic this is based on is not all gloom and doom but it's clearly not all pretty either.

(5312 words)

In The Flesh

The funny thing about rock bottom is I’d thought I’d hit it many times before she saved me but really there is no depth far enough down to describe where I was after finding her body and where I would be for a very long time after that.

Like I’d done every day since I saw her favorite baseball cap bobbing on that partially submerged branch stuck out in the depths of the churning flood waters, I was out looking for her. On my endless searches, I would yell her name, over and over, till my voice was nothing more than a pained screech of air.

It was as I was scouring a new area that the water had receded that I went to shout her name again but stopped with only the first faint syllable. 

The moment I saw her distinctly colorful sandal and what appeared to be the discolored fragments of flesh still clinging to the bones trapped in it, the wind shifted, and my nostrils were filled with a pungent, sickeningly sweet, earthy odor.

That is what the smell of death is like if a body has been exposed to the elements for ten days or more. The anatomy and physiology decomposition literature states, a body exposed to the elements begins to decompose within less than 1 hour postmortem. That rate is accelerated if the tissues are exposed to other factors such blunt force trauma or heat and moisture.

She had been exposed to all of it.

I could still hear the ominous sound of the huge trees snapping and boulders grinding over things in the swift current as I walked along the road, just hours after she’d gone, only then, I didn’t know she wasn’t coming back. I didn’t know what was being done to her.

Now her body was there, under the hardened soil, but her foot was the only part of her that was visible other than her twisted tangle of hair wrapped around a river beaten branch. 

For the last week I’d been lying to myself, trying to hang on to the idea that she was still out there, that she was just too mad at me to come home. But really, in that time, she’d been first submerged in the torrents of flood water decimating that landscape, and then after, (not long based on the murky pool of muck and the very small cracks in the clay at my feet), she’d been there, encased in the ground. 

I cried out her name.

I dropped the stick I’d been using to poke and prod the underbrush, my body instantly disappearing for a fraction of a second into the snapping vacuum of my portal. Stepping out of it a few yards away, I fell to my knees, my trembling hands not knowing what to do or what was safe to touch. I moved to her foot, then pulled back as the tiny black flies that were startled by my presence flew up in an angry swarm.

The temperature since the day she disappeared had been colder but that had done nothing to prevent her rapid decay.

Entomology and Body Decomp 101: A decomposing body will attract all manner of life forms within 24 after death. If allowed access, scavengers are ruthless in their pursuit of the flesh of the dead. 

Having been well read prior to my time in the apocalypse and being well acquainted with death in the years before this, I was still not prepared for what I saw or had to go through over the next several hours it took to free her.

Her body was no longer her anymore, but I couldn't accept that. My mind told me she was under there and she was so scared. 

Frantically, I started digging with my bare hands. No matter how careful I was clawing at the clay that had molded her in the ground, anytime my fingers came close to her, they crushed her slick, wet remnants of flesh, tearing it through.

At this point, she had surpassed the early stages of decomposition. Gone was the bloating. The gases and liquids had mostly expelled, and her skeleton was letting go of her skin, though in some areas it remained in denser sections that were identifiable but mostly because her clothes had embedded in her. Her jean shorts made clear where her abdomen was, what was left of her chest was now part of her t-shirt.

What I was seeing and touching and smelling made my stomach heave over and over but still I had to save her.

She had needed me, and I wasn’t there.

Stage 4 post-decay lacks some of the first levels of putridity, but even though I had seen hundreds of thousands of faces of death, seeing hers will always represent the loss of everything; even more so than the day I’d foolishly ran into the future, lost my family, and found I couldn’t get back.

“No, no, no,” I sobbed, my filthy, bloodied fingertips inching along her face, or what should have been her face. “I am so sorry… Please!  No! God, please!”

The mouth I had cherished was gaping, her once perfect teeth were more exposed than they should have been due to the skin around them receding or simply just not being there at all. 

Her eyes…

Where once someone had looked back at me with so much love and endless understanding, now there was horror, both mine and hers. 

Sickness took me again.

Dizzy, I frantically scrambled back, away from where I had unearthed most of her, my stomach emptied, but nothing but acid spilled onto the scattering of broken foliage off to my side. 

My ears were filled with the evil buzzing sound of insects that were warming themselves in the open area around us as the sun relentlessly beat down.

I couldn’t take it.

A feral sound of pure agony crawled out of my chest, getting eaten away by all the nothingness.

“Please, I am so sorry… Please forgive me, I never meant for…” 

She wouldn’t except my words and I couldn’t blame her.

My broken cries were lost in my delirium. On hands and knees, I came back to her, lifting her to me even though I shouldn’t have.

The gruesome sound of parts of her stickily pulling free from the ground and the sight of the parts of her that remained in the soil were enough to fracture what was left of my sanity.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, we can go home now,” I shushed her, in my head believing I had the ability to soothe her pain. 

She still said nothing, and I told myself it was because she was just too weak.

She just needed my help. She was just mad. She was just…

“You are safe now,” I said, my hand sinking into her, her spinal column hitting my palm not even enough to shock me back into reality. 

After cradling her for far too long, I said, “I am not leaving you here.” 

Lightly as possible, I let my shaking hand touch her hair, seeing but not acknowledging that it was starting to detach from her scalp. Without thinking, I forced the massive amounts of energy I needed for a jump, the blue power expanding from my hands, then around us. 

I only took us across the drying riverbed, up the steep embankment and up the hill to where the road hadn’t been washed out, and that was far, but it was not even close to getting us back to our cabin. For that, I had planned to teleport again and again, as many times as it took but when my feet smacked the ground the force of it made the tendons holding her right thigh to her hip give way and the length of her leg landed at my feet. 

“Fuck!” I screamed, slamming to my knees to grab her.

Like a madman, I could at least put together that she was falling apart and that this wasn’t going to work. Even jumping with her was too much. She was so fragile; she’d always said she wasn’t, but she was…

“I am so-ssss-sorry,” my voice cracked as I carefully laid her down again. 

The sight of those tiny black bugs as they fought to get a piece of the woman I loved, caused me to feel the burn of violent anger and that almost brought me to my senses, but even that too, I washed away with another imaginary idea, that if I just covered her, somehow all the severed openings that were now more her than anything else, would be spared from further ruin.

In a frenzy, I stripped off my shirt, covering her with it the best I could. The moment I was able to get to my feet again, I swayed, the world spun, but when it came back into focus, I could see again like lightning struck my head, brightening the gray world around me, making the colors of her bright sandals and her hair and the tattered remains of her clothing stand out in stark contrast to the deep darkened purple of her rotting body.

My filthy hand came up, rubbing my face and my blurred eyes, then my fingers tore back as I painfully yanked at my hair. 

I had done this to her.

Sniffling and on the verge of a full screaming fit of rage, I turned and started making my way up the road, a few steps away, my hands coming together, my fingers like claws, I tried to gather the light in my hands to blink again, but instead I was met with the impotence of the faintest swirls of azure static crackling to life then fizzling out. 

Turning back to the motionless pile on the ground, I again assured her I’d be back. Then in a haze, like a zombie on empty, I mindlessly made my way back, my mud-covered boots trudging up the steep hill, my balance faltering over and over as I’d tripped over the uneven surface.

If you ask me what I was thinking during that walk, I couldn't tell you. All I knew was that I was empty and that a horrible numbness was taking hold.

Even still, I came back fast, like I’d promised. First, I placed her in a thick blanket, sure to get every bit that was her that was there, anything that wasn’t, I never found.

“There,” I breathed, positioning her leg that had been torn off at the hip in such a way that looked less painful. Then flapping away any visible bugs from her, I covered her completely. Knowing that she was in the later stages of decomposition but that it was far from over and she was seeping fluids, I lifted her, and laid the cocoon of wool on top of a tarp. 

I could have carried her the whole way but not wanting to hurt her or break her apart more than she already was, I only carried her to the cart I’d brought back with me, then I carefully laid her in. 

Though she didn’t answer no matter how much I wanted her to, I spoke to her the whole way as I tugged the wagon with her in it up the hill. 

Getting back to our home, the mud encrusted wheels clattered to a stop in the yard right next to the chair I had been sitting in the day we had gotten into our fight. It was dead silent and getting so dark by that point that the stars were coming out but as if in a time loop in hell, I could still hear the cruel things I’d said to her on that sunny morning. 

Looking down at the small mound of blanket with her in it, I said, “You have to forgive me. I don’t know what to do without you. I don’t want to live with-”

My heart was racing, I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt a new tightness where before, since the hours after she’d gone and not come back, I’d only felt the stabbing pain of regret and fear, now it was like an aching void as if there were an actual hole inside me.

I stood there blankly staring at the door, then back to her, my mind not working at all but somehow still functioning enough to make the start of a string of very bad decisions.

Taking her up in my arms, we went inside. “We’re back. You're not alone anymore. I never meant to leave you out there like that. I tried so hard to find you,” I said, smothering my words against her wrap. “It’s okay now…we are okay…”

I kicked the door closed then I moved straight for our bed, and I would have laid her down in it and climbed right in if not for the fact that Dolores was sitting in the chair next to it, staring at me looking horrified.

‘No, Five, don’t!’

Saying nothing, I spun around to instead place the bundle in my arms on the couch in front of the fireplace. It wasn’t lit and it needed to be. That’s what she and I did at night. That was our other special place.

Memories of sitting there together, her behind me, reaching around to place my fingers correctly to play the chords she was trying to teach me filled my head. I could almost trick myself into thinking I could hear her beautiful playing and that I could hear her laugh at me every time I’d try to get out of my lessons.

“This is okay. I’ll fix this. We are going to be okay,” I said, as I started to unwrap her.

Dolores panicked at the sight in front of us. ‘Five, no. She’s gone. This isn’t right. What are you doing?”

I stopped, leaving her under wraps but I ignored Dolores’ s warning and started to light the fire. 

Again, Dolores asked, ‘Five, what are you doing? She is dead. You can’t do this to yourself.’

“She’s not dead!” I shrieked, my eyes filling with welling tears as I clenched my hands, my broken fingernails slicing half-moons into the flesh of my dirty palms. 

‘I am sorry, Five, but she is. You knew that after she didn’t come back.”

My head turned back and forth as I shook away a flood of tears threatening to come out and drown me like the water had done to all that I loved. I pinched my eyes shut, a broken whimper squeaking out of my throat.

‘Look at yourself, Five… You are not okay. That is why she can’t stay here. I love her too, but she is gone.’

I opened my eyes and looked at myself. I had no shirt on, my body was covered in mud and death. 

The smell of me… 

The smell of her poor body…

‘You need to bury her. She wouldn’t want this.’

“No,” I whispered as my body trembled and I stared blankly at the floor. “No,” I said again, then screamed, “Stop!!!! Just stop! Don’t you fucking talk to me! I didn’t ask for your help! It didn’t ask for any of this!”

Refusing to look up and see the hurt on Dolores’s face, I looked to the motionless pile of fleece blanket.

“I am not putting you out there all alone again, sweetheart.”

With that affirmation, and me placing a kiss to her covered face, the night did not get better.

In the light of the fire, I sat there on the floor in front of the couch as close to her as I could be without touching her. I wanted to protect her. I needed to keep my promise that I wasn’t going to leave her. 

So many times, she and I had discussed the possibility of me being able to jump back in time and the fact that doing so with her was going to make it all the harder for me to pull off. Even with the right math, and just me, the energy needed to do it was something I hadn’t figured out how to achieve. Even though she had said that me getting back was all that mattered, I refused to consider leaving without her. 

I couldn’t leave her, not then and not now; that was what I kept telling myself.

Sometime late into the night, slumped against the plaid couch, my head resting near hers though she remained covered, my demented and wrong train of thoughts slipped away, and sleep took me but in it l found no solace. 

~~~

As I came to in the early hours of the next morning with my body crumbled on the cold floor, I knew instantly that everything I wanted to believe was okay was not. 

The dimly lit cabin smelled of death and I was graced with the buzzing sound of a half a dozen or more flies that had found their way in somehow in the tiniest of cracks.

The decay had been clinging to me since I found her, but I refused to acknowledge it even as the putrid odor only added to my ongoing nausea. I clumsily reached for the stale glass of water I’d left at some point on the end table. Drinking it burned my cracked lips and the taste of it felt laced with a bitter acid. I wanted to retch but managed to refrain.

Then, wanting to remain living in the land of make believe, I got up, went to our small kitchen area, and proceeded to grab several bottles of liquor.

Dropping down next to her again, I twisted a cap, sloshing the clear liquid as I tipped it back, dumping the alcohol down my raw throat. 

It was awful but that was not the only time I’d drank to forget, or that I’d drank things that were questionable in their quality.

“Remember when we found that stash of cheap wine with the seals broken,” I quietly asked. 

I took a long pull at the bottle, then another as I peered over my shoulder at her laying there on under her favorite blanket.

“Smarter than me as always, you refused to drink any of it, but not me… Stupid as always, I gave it a try and boy did I pay for it. You had to baby me for the entire next day. God, I am such a lightweight. I’d be dead if not for you.”

I laughed, the sound of it thick with irony.

“You were always so good to me…”

Eyeing the dried mud and smears of her flesh on my pants, my eyes blurred. 

“I didn’t deserve you and you didn’t deserve this.”

I started to cry. Then I started to hyperventilate, my breaths coming too fast and my head spinning. 

Shuddering, I drank more and more but I could never turn the image of my girl’s face staring back at me from that riverbed into the beautiful living version I wanted so badly to believe was still with me.

Hours later, I was disturbingly drunk. 

One minute I was musing to myself about our better times, talking out loud like a maniac about something so wonderful, like one night that she and I were out scavenging too far to come back, and we’d camped out under the stars. I’d told her the names of all the constellations I knew and there were many. She’d quietly listened, cuddled up next to me, both of us just happy to be in love and together even if our world was a landscape of tragedy. 

Together, we could have done anything. We were going to save the world.

Now she was gone.

I had nothing.

She’d been everything and now I had no one again.

With the room spinning, I abruptly got to my feet, stumbling towards the window above the sink basin. The flies zipped and buzzed in front of me, landing in the vomit I had left there after I’d finished the first bottle of liquor. Knowing that those same dirty insects were landing on my beautiful girl made me quake with not just sickness but unmeasurable self-hatred.

I was a fucking mess, and I wasn’t doing right by her. 

Dolores was right. 

Glancing back to where I had abandoned Dolores almost two days prior, the room tilted in my vision. I dizzily turned back, clutching the white cast iron basin.

The light outside was fading. I wanted to go along with it. I wanted all the horrible pain and debilitating heartache to stop.

Laying on the butcher block counter space where we prepared our meals, was a sharp kitchen blade. With where my head was at, seeing it, I immediately thought of my gun and other times of morbid desperation. 

My tears burned down my cheeks.

I hated myself so much for what I had caused. If I had not yelled at her, and if I could only have seen through my arrogance and own my deficiencies, she would still be here. I didn’t and instead did what I’d always done and blamed anyone but myself for my problems.

I’d taken out everything on her, again…

If I’d only learned from my mistakes, things that weren’t okay never would have been said. She never would have felt the need to be away from me. She never would have gone for that walk, and if she had, I would have been by her side. If I had just agreed with her to go to the city to try something new, I may not have had the breakthrough we needed so badly but at least she’d be there.

Feeling on the verge of vomiting again, I wanted to disappear into an alcohol induced coma.

I pushed off the sink, staggering like a drunken idiot the whole way back to the dresser that was next to my side of the bed. In a blur, I saw Dolores sitting there on her chair, but she didn’t say anything. She looked every bit the inanimate object she was.

It was as if I’d killed her too.

I yanked the top drawer open, my hand tearing through the clothes to find the heavy black metal object that my fucked-up mind craved. 

My fingers grazed the cold instrument of death. I could feel the barrel of the pistol sticking down my throat, the oiled slickness of it slipping past my parting lips. 

Just the thought made me gag but with sick fascination, and I didn't’ stop thinking about it.

All it would take is one second and my finger on the trigger and no more guilt. My brain would be a splatter of nothing, painting the bedspread behind me. The place we’d slept and loved would be ruined just like we were.

Images of us, heated tangled flesh, together in those same blankets filled my mind.

To get away from the hurt that memory caused, I looked up, the weapon in my hand but my eyes aimed at the small dresser mirror. It was as if a stranger was looking back at me. My stomach felt like it was trying to crawl out of my mouth and my vision was closing in with blackness threatening to pull me under.

I was seeing things and hearing things.

The loud pop of the bullet; the sound of my body hitting the floor. 

I saw bugs crawling out of the jagged rotting hole in my skull.

Then I saw her face, only not the destroyed one that was hidden under the blankets on the couch. 

That was when I finally came back to myself. 

“Don’t you fucking do it,” I furiously screamed at myself, throwing the gun back down in the drawer.

My ears were ringing from my own terrified voice reverberating in them, then a few seconds later, the silence of death and that room returned.  

It was just me, the mannequin and the body.

Dolores was right, I needed to let her go. 

I had to bury her.

~~~

Over the next several hours, through the task of digging a hole in the ground, I sobered up significantly. Having done that, I re-entered the dank, horrid smelling cabin, removing the small pile of remains that had been the love of my life.

I was still covered in layers of filth and knowing that even if Dolores wouldn’t speak to me, she’d loved her as much as me and she’d want to be there to say goodbye, I quickly washed myself outside under the spout attached to the spring fed line that was rigged to the house. Splashing my face with a mix of soap and water, I cleaned my battered hands, and my arms, and I removed my soiled pants, tossing them in the woods. 

The water streaming down my body was ice cold and disgusting. My fleshly cleaned and very pale skin ran under my fingers, standing in stark contrast to the filth that I was and the sight of it only furthered the much-needed reality check I'd only recently found. 

Once I’d made myself somewhat more presentable, I redressed, then silently approached Dolores.

My voice cracked from being burned by stomach acid so many times and by my screams and lack of simply drinking or eating appropriately for days, but I had the strength and weakness to ask her for something I didn't deserve.

“Please come with me…I don’t want to do this alone.”

When Dolores responded with her softly spoken words of devotion, ‘You are never alone, Five. You will always have me,’ I was nearly beside myself with emotion. I’d thought I’d lost her along with everything else.

“Oh, my God, thank you,” I sobbed as I lifted Dolores up and carried her outside into the yard.

We approached the hole I’d dug. It wasn’t that deep, and it wasn’t that big, but it didn’t need to be. It was in front of an ancient but long dead ash tree that she had once told me had to have been something truly beautiful at one point in time when it was alive.

It was just like her.

The burial was silent, save for the sound of the blade of my shovel slicing through the softened pile of dirt I had removed and then replaced. 

The sky was getting dark, the woods full of shadows of monstrous things that looked like they could come out of the night and pull you away forever. 

I sat, folded in on myself at the base of the old ash tree, the disturbed soil at my feet as I looked up to the highest branches of the barren tree. Its flesh had been taken. Remanence of its bark were scattered all around me. It would someday be nothing but dust. 

We all would be, but it was not my time-yet.

Burying my head in my hands, I kept telling myself that. 

~~~

In the days that came after that, it rained and rained. My mind tormented me constantly with the flawed idea that she was trapped out there in the crushing wet ground. One second, I’d be haunted by images of her so scared and trying to breath and break free as then dirty water filled her lungs, and then the next, I’d come back to the dimly lit room I was in; Dolores worriedly watching me as I slowly organized things and cleaned up my many messes.

We couldn't stay there, but I couldn't bring myself to leave either, not when everything I had that she'd ever touched was right there. All around me were parts of her life that she’d shared with me. I’d clung to every trinket; every item of fabric that bore her scent. 

Lying in bed at night, I’d break down into sobbing fits of anguish with my face buried in her pillow. I could stay like that for hours on end, fading in and out, tricking my mind and heart into thinking I hadn't lost her and that she was right there in bed next to me. But it would never last because the damp coldness of the empty space around me that had once been warmed by everything that was her was an inescapable reminder that I had failed the woman I loved and who had saved me.

It was in a notion during one of these times of despair that I realized the only thing I could do to redeem what I had done was to fix this like I'd always promised her I would. Out there somewhere in time there was a place where the world was still alive, and she was in it and everyone I ever cared about was still flesh and blood and filled with life.

I had to get back.

The pain that happened here was real and always would be but somewhere out there, there was a chance of better things.

There was a chance of seeing her again.

That idea of saving her and my family was the only way, and it was my reason for breathing again.

Broken, but somehow still standing, my heart though not the same was still beating. The flesh covering my hand could still feel hers in it and it was while cherishing that feeling that I made the decision that it was time to go. 

On our final day, I got up like every day since I’d put her in the ground under that tree. I came outside, picking up the wildflowers I had left for her the day before, then I went for a short walk, talking to her in my mind the entire time, making my usual promises while I worked through ideas and math and things that gave me hope. Then I’d come back, refill her favorite vase with new water and place the colorful blooms there above her.

Alone, the sun shone down on me, my shadow stretching across the earth above her, giving the illusion that we were laying there together.  

“I love you,” I whispered, my eyes blinking back the enormous weight I felt from her loss and would always feel.

I liked to think I heard her say she loved me back, but I knew she didn’t; it was just a memory of her words tickling my ear as her lips gently kissed along my neck.

I shivered from head to toe as I felt the ghost of her touch but not in a bad way.

I smiled, sniffing like a baby as I rubbed my eyes.

Then, making one last promise I said, “You will be okay. I’ll fix this.”

Going back in the house, with Dolores watching all the while, obedient and loyal and loving with words of encouragement, I packed my final things.

I left our cabin spotless and set up as if we were coming back to it. It was as if I could see us in there again, spending our nights in front of that fireplace, laughing and endlessly teasing each other; our bed ready for us to lay down in and explore each other in new and exciting ways that only made our love stronger. I saw all that but in the back of my head I knew I was never going to come back to that place because it was gone, and if I did return, I may never leave her.

So, it was with that in mind, late in the morning, I loaded Dolores with our supplies, setting her next to the hard black guitar case that held her cherished Christmas present I'd given her and so many other things I couldn’t let go. I pulled a blanket around Dolores and the case, as if the instrument inside it had become something in a way of being the woman I’d lost, so much the way Dolores was a real thing that needed my care and love. 

I walked to the old, grayed ash tree, its wind worn and smooth branches shone in the warm sun as I looked down at the ground where I’d left a piece of my heart. I could almost hear the sound of her playing my favorite sone and I knew that when I plucked those strings, a piece of my heart would break a little more with each strum, but I’d be back with her.

My lower lip trembled, and my nose burned with the same heat as my eyes.

“Until we meet again, my love…”

Thank you for your support , this special cover art was made just for this and for you.💞 @groovydazephantom

Master List Post for my Five Centric Stories and art

Link to my other Tumblr Five Centric posts

Link to visit me on A03

[reddbuster]

rank ace attorney villains🙏 either by objective quality or personal enjoyment

ooh fun question. I think I’m gonna go with personal enjoyment lest i turn this into an essay because by god it will otherwise. Working under the assumption that by villains here you mean the culprits and accomplices (obligatory spoiler warning for all the mainline as games and investigations 1)

my favourite culprit in the series is definitely godot. He’s such a tragic character but he’s also very much an instrument in his own suffering which I find compelling in an antagonist. Also taking off my critical thinking cap for a second I just really love him on a personal level like that’s my guy

#2 to absolutely nobody’s surprise is my girl Dahlia <3 I would put Iris here too but I don’t think she was ever enough of an accomplice to qualify as a villain so I’m leaving her out of this one. I don’t know what to say about her I haven’t said already lol. I love her a lot

#3 is a close one but I have to go with Manfred. Not only is he a really fun villain and an interesting character in his own right but the ripple effects his actions had across the entire series drive me insane to think about

#4 is also a close one but I have to give it to Morgan. I’ve talked about her at length before so I’m not gonna bother here.

#5 for me is Yanni Yogi! He’s such an interesting character that I think deserves more love. Watch the live action ace attorney movie if you haven’t already It will change the way you see him forever.

#6 is probably Gant. I don’t feel like I really need to explain this one kdjdsk

#7 tie between Mimi Miney and April May

#8 is a toss up between Acro and Calisto. I’m gonna say Acro is higher for now but I still need to finish aai and having been spoiled for the twist I have a feeling that’s going to change. Naturally Calisto falls right after Acro at #9.

#10 is a tie between Dee Vasques and Cammy Meele

#11 ………I’m conflicted about this one but I’m going to say Kristoph? Kris is a hard one for me to rank because I think he’s a fantastic villain but the fandom has Pavloved me into having a negative reaction every time I see him. So like it feels weird putting him in the middle of the pack when I have such strong feelings about him but those feelings are so mixed that it doesn’t really make sense to put him anywhere else. [I forgot to add Shelley Dekiller & I don’t feel like going back and changing the numbers but he’s probably be somewhere around here]

#12 Furio Tigre

#13 Redd White

#14 Matt Engarde

#15 Luke Atmey

#16 tie between Marlon Rimes and Behleeb Inmee

#17 Alita Tiala

#18 Daryan Crescend

#19 Geiru Toneido

#20 Roger Retinz

#21 The phantom

#22 Jacques Portsmam

#23 Lance Amano

#24 Richard Wellington

#25 Ga’ran

#26 Pierce Nichody

#27 Frank Sahwit

#28 Aristotle Means

#29 Tahrust Inmee

#30 Ted Tonate

#40 Florent L’Belle

[thesymphonytrue]

24. “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.” for Neal and Peter

Okay this turned into a full FIC??? lol. I may clean it up later (this is a super rough draft I literally wrote in a half hour 😅) and post it to AO3 if you all think it's worth it?? (Maybe the other prompts too honestly? ) lol it's similar to another fic I've posted but........can't have enough, right?

Also, season 1 spoilers and finale spoilers!!

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

Peter woke to clanging resonating up his townhome stairs into his ears, shaking his brain sufficiently enough to warrant getting out of bed. Grumbling to himself, he shuffled downstairs to find Neal kneeling on the kitchen counter, arms stretched up and his hand elbow deep into their top cabinets.

Peter sighed and ran a hand down his face. Since Kate’s plane had blown up two days before, Neal had stayed with Peter and Elizabeth. The authorities (authorities with more control over Neal than Peter, unfortunately) deliberated as to when (not if) to send Neal back to prison and demanded Neal be under twenty-four hour surveillance until Neal's re-admittance date (which happened to be tomorrow).

Not that Peter would want Neal un-supervised right now, anyway. The kid had drunk himself into oblivion both nights, crashing onto the Burke’s couch in a heap of fitful laughter and mutterings of Van Gogh and Picasso. Peter longed to take Neal into his arms and try to heal his wounds, but the words got caught in his throat and his hands grew stiff if he tried to reach out to Neal. The past two evenings had ended with Peter tossing a blanket over Neal, watching him sleep for a few moments, and then collapsing into his own bed with Elizabeth with exhaustion.

“Neal,” Peter said, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as he took a stance in the kitchen.

“Goodmorning, Peter!” Neal said chipperly, “I have coffee brewing!”

Peter sniffed, sure enough, Neal did have an excellent roast wafting through the air--along with the distinct scent of suppressing emotions, like grief.

“Whatcha need up there?” Peter asked suspiciously.

“Ahhh…got it!” Neal leapt off the counter and waltzed over to his already-steaming cup of coffee.

In his hand gleamed a clear bottle of…

“Vodka?” Peter sputtered, eyes widening as he reached to snatch the bottle from Neal.

Since when was Neal his teenage son with an underdeveloped prefrontal cortex?!

Neal’s eyes slid to Peter as he raised the bottle out of Peter’s grasp, plucked off the cap, and poured at least a half cup into his coffee.

Peter let out a growl as he managed to grab the vodka bottle and place his hand flat over the coffee mug to prevent Neal from picking it up.

“Peter!” Neal whined.

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

“In Paris, it’s noon.”

“Still not an appropriate time to have vodka.”

“But—”

Peter slid the mug to the sink and dumped its contents.

Silence.

The hum of the fridge.

Neal’s breathing, in and out.

Kate's plane exploding again and again and again. Ears ringing, heat suffocating, Neal's cries....

Neal turned to look out the window to the patio, the back of his head displaying a rather wild patch of bedhead. It dawned on Peter that he’d never seen Neal so disheveled. In a t-shirt and pajama pants, Neal’s normally perfect hair was untamed, his shoulders slouched.

Peter stepped forward quietly, taking a glance at Neal’s face: dark bags tainted his perfect skin, his blue eyes bloodshot.

“Neal?” Peter said softly.

The silence continued and Peter almost turned away to put the vodka in his high-security safe when Neal whispered:

“She’s gone, Peter.”

Peter’s heart clenched.

Oh Neal.

He set the vodka on the counter and placed a hand on Neal’s shoulder.

“I know,” Peter said, giving Neal’s shoulder a squeeze, “I’m so sorry.”

Neal’s face crumbled, tears tumbling down his cheeks, all of his suppressed emotions giving way to a raw, hurting human.

“Let it out, Neal,” Peter said, enveloping Neal into a hug, "It's alright."

“I wish she was still here,” Neal said, hot tears spilling onto Peter’s neck.

“I know,” Peter repeated, unsure what to say, but continued to hold Neal tightly as Neal's shoulders shook from crying.

“At least you’re still here.”

The words Neal spoke were so inaudible that Peter knew they were not meant for his ears, but his heart still shattered on to the kitchen floor. He kept his arms around Neal, hoping that his wordless communication would be enough.

I’ll always be here for you.

~~~~~~~~

Years later, Post-Finale

Peter tore out of his bed, his shirt was soaked with sweat, mind running in circles tight enough to choke his heart. El slept soundlessly next to him (cuddling with her pregnancy pillow, not Peter) so Peter tiptoed downstairs and began to brew a cup of coffee.

Everywhere Peter looked, Neal stared back at him. Neal sat on the couch, grinning wildly. Neal was throwing his rubber-band ball in the office. Neal flipped his hat at Peter’s front door. Neal laughed as he and Elizabeth ate dinner.

Those intelligent, bright eyes, his handsome smile, the way he made Peter crazy and so fulfilled all at the same time.

Peter’s eyes burned as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push Neal’s face from his mind.

Please, leave me alone. Peter pleaded, suddenly willing to do anything to just erase the memory of Neal, to dull the pain.

In a mad frenzy, Peter climbed onto the counter and reached into the highest cabinet, pulling out a bottle of vodka. He opened the bottle and proceeded to combine the vodka with his coffee, humming to himself as he murmured:

“Just to take the edge off…”

He was going to be a father in a few weeks, he couldn’t be still dealing with this greif—-

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

Startled at the smooth male voice, Peter looked up.

There was Neal, alive, in his kitchen, dressed impeccably in a beautiful suit and Devore fedora. His eyes were glittering, his skin rosy, his chest rising and falling with life.

Peter shook his head, trying to shake the vision.

“You’re not real,” Peter said, blinking his eyes to try and banish Neal.

He opened his eyes and Neal was still there, pouring his vodka-filled coffee cup into the sink.

“Hey!” Peter exclaimed, “It's noon in Paris! You’re in my head, you can’t just—”

Neal's face flickered at the word Paris, a shadow passing as his smile faded.

“Peter,” Neal said softly, his eyes growing melancholy.

“I know,” Peter whispered, “I have to be strong. For El, for…our son.”

Neal nodded and reached a hand to Peter, then retracted it.

“You’re allowed to break down, Peter,” Neal said gently, “But you have to let me go.”

Peter’s eyes filled to the brim, overflowing with hot anger.

“I can’t just let you go! You–you–-were—are– a part of me!” Peter said, slamming a hand against his own chest over his heart, “I—I loved you!”

Sobs overtook Peter’s body as he braced himself against the kitchen counter, the months of holding back his sorrow over Neal’s death finally pouring out.

A slender hand found Peter’s shoulder. Peter turned and pulled Neal into him, Peter didn’t care if this was his grief-ridden mind hallucinating, he was going to hold on to Neal as long as he—

And in an instant, Neal was gone. Peter was on kitchen the floor, hugging himself.

Peter’s heart ached, his body throbbed with the absence of Neal…

But he had a job to do, a husband to be, and father to become.

He took the vodka and dumped it down the sink.

It was time to move on.

~~~~~~

Post-Canon

Peter and Neal stumbled into the kitchen, sides aching from laughter, eyes puffy from tears.

“Boys!” Elizabeth hissed from the living room, “Keep it down! Sleeping baby upstairs!”

They both quieted their giggles as they prowled the kitchen cabinets, searching for something to toast their recent reunion with. Peter had arrived in New York around 3 am, Neal in tow, and they spent the first half-hour at the Burke’s home just staring at Peter's baby son sleeping in his crib. The second half hour was dedicated to a lecture from Elizabeth on Neal’s foolishness. The last two hours were Peter and Neal, sitting on the couch, talking and talking and talking until their throats were dry and all the tears had turned into laughter.

Peter had found Neal, after that year of absolute hell. Neal was alive and here, living and breathing in his townhome once more.

“Let’s just make coffee,” Peter said, “It’s almost six am. God. I’m going to feel like shit today.”

Peter started the coffee. Neal balked.

“No! You cannot welcome me back to New York with coffee–as much as I adore it. Where’s that Bordeaux I sent you last week?”

“Oh, Elizabeth and I drank that immediately.”

“So much for delayed gratification,” Neal snorted.

Peter glared.

“You’ve been dead for a year, I think my skills in delayed gratification are—”

“Okay okay, fair enough,” Neal said quietly, guiltily, the mood dampening.

“I’m pouring us coffee,” Peter stated, grabbing two mugs from a lower shelf.

“How about this?” Neal chirped as he clambered up on the counter and found the vodka bottle (a new one) on the top shelf.

Peter rolled his eyes, but grinned nonetheless.

“It’s six o’clock in the morning—” Peter started.

“...You’re not having vodka,” Neal finished softly, as if he’d said the words before, too, as if Peter’s vision had been real after all.

Peter met Neal’s eyes. He was angry, so angry he could punch Neal for what he’d put him through. But he also was so grateful that Neal was alive, he felt he could vomit right there on the kitchen floor.

“Damn it, Neal,” Peter whispered wetly, unscrewing the cap and pouring a drop in two coffee cups, then filling them with steaming coffee.

“You’re alive,” Peter said, raising his mug to Neal.

Neal swallowed and looked away, unable to meet Peter’s stare.

“Neal,” Peter pressed gently, placing a firm hand on Neal’s shoulder, “I’m glad you’re home.”

A tiny smile cracked through Neal’s lips as those blue eyes grew misty. They clinked mugs and took a sip.

“Me too, Peter, me too.”

Okay, I know it's rough and needs some nice language and descriptions to polish it off...but....I kinda see fic potential? maybe?

THANKS ANON FOR THE PROMPT!!!! :):):)

[waltermis]

Does anyone else just hate when a reader complains that their favorite author hasn't updated yet? Or when we wrote something that just isn't up to your standards??

Or when we write out warnings and people just ignore them and read it anyways and then they squawk about how they hated a certain aspect in your story, WHICH WE HAVE ALREADY POSTED A WARNING ABOUT!! I hate how they blame the author for writing something that triggers them when they should know their own limits. SPOILER ALERT!!! DON'T READ SOMETHING YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH!! YOU ARE THE ONE WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ AND CONSUME, NOT US!!

And let's not forget when we release less content for one character to write more for another. Like bitch I am taking time out of my own life to give you some entertainment and you're whining?!?! If you want to read something then write it yourself.

And show authors the respect they should be getting! Everyday there is NEW AND FREE content waiting for you to read and you have the audacity to bitch and moan.

And yeah, sometimes we'll mess up on some grammar or spelling but WE'RE HUMAN too. Authors shouldn't have to apologize when they publish something later than the date or time that they promised. Or when they've promised to write and just can't sometimes. It's hard okay?! Finding motivation to write is one of the most difficult things ever! And writers shouldn't have to say sorry when readers put in ALL CAPS for in their post's comments when they accidentally put in the wrong tags. Authors shouldn't have to feel pressured when writing something; writing is supposed to be a calming and relaxing thing. It should be fun. People shouldn't have to expect them to write 24/7 or to publish something everyday. We have a life too y'know!!

This is for anyone who's ever complained about an author... Get a fucking life already and get the fuck off my page if you're gonna be a motherfucking asshole!!

AND TO ALL THE AUTHORS OUT THERE, YOU GUYS ARE SO AMAZING! I AM SO PROUD OF EVERYBODY FOR EVERYTHING YOU'VE WRITTEN. I KNOW THAT YOU DON'T GET THIS AS OFTEN AS YOU SHOULD BUT YOU GUYS ARE INCREDIBLE! THANK YOU FOR TAKING TIME OUT OF YOUR EXTREMELY BUSY SCHEDULES TO WRITE STORIES FOR SOME UNGRATEFUL DICKHEADS!! I SUPPORT YOU GUYS 100%! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️❤️❤️

[ginnymoonbeam]

I've only see random screen caps and posts of tender light in passing but I know the gist of what it's about I also know it's not a romance but there is romance I know the theme is dark and it seems the fl is dealing with a lot although I've made sure not to see or read details so as not to spoil myself but I was wondering what kind of connection it is?From both of them I know people tend to focus on the ML and his feelings for the FL not just for this show while I love equal dedicated couples.

You picked a good day to ask this, anon! The show has been moving back and forth in time, being very deliberate about which parts of the story it reveals when, and today's episodes (23 and 24) finally let us see the heart of the relationship development. So, to first answer a question you didn't ask, the reason you've mostly seen people talk about his feelings for her is that that is mostly what we've seen so far, up until today.

Now to the question you did ask: what kind of connection is it? Is it unbalanced or are they equally dedicated? Because of their circumstances, balance isn't really possible. Without any spoilers: he's a student with good grades and good prospects, while she's trapped in a hellish life. What both of them are dedicated to, more than each other or any kind of relationship, is freedom and safety for her and her child. So in that respect, it isn't balanced and can't be.

But this isn't a "he rescues her so she falls for him" story. When she does start to love him, it's not because he could help her. It's because of who he is and what he values, and because of things they share, things they recognize in each other. Today we finally got to see some sweet moments and simple happiness between them, and see the potential of what they could have together once she is free.

There's not much more I can say without spoiling big moments, but for me this is absolutely working as a compelling love story, as well as all the other things it is.

[the-fandoms-onceler]

avengers spoilers for any lateies like me🧍‍♀️

just finished watching the inifity saga like 5 years too late, and oh my GOD it BROKE ME.

tony was legit my fav, even above ROCKET. even above peter and cap and nebula and strange.

i mean im usually a movie crier, these waterworks be bustin their backs, slaving away 24/7 cause honestly 🧍‍♀️ (im an angry crier too, shocking but unrelated)

anyways UGH. legit sobbing because the way peter and tony both died together, but pepper shoved peter aside to let herself have a moment, like i get it, and i ♥️ u for being so iconic, but you could both hold tony for that last moment, and peter was like a son to him😭😭 (i get ur his wife n all but CMON pepperbabes, lowkey ruined an iconic moment, and the irony of it all. its acc giving the rose jack door triangle)

anyways rant over because they’re all still alive in a happy little stark tower in my delusion!!😇

[helpallthenamesaretaken]

I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ON EPISODE 3.. (SPOILERS AHEAD)

If the song “on the same boat” was 24 minutes long

AAAAAHHHH IT WAS SO GOOOOOOOD

hI i’M pErCy

why did i expect the oracle to sing like she did in the musical an not talk (tho you gotta admit this prophecy didn’t hit as hard as “AND YOU SHALL FAAAAAAAIIIILL (*FAILLLLLLLL*) TO SAVE WHAT MATTERS MOST IIIIINNNNNN THHHHEEEEE EEEENNNDD”)

“Annabeth” he knows what he wants what he really really wants and also chiron’s face

The parallels to cotg with the whole pushing down stairs thing…oh i love it so much AND THE PARALLELS

Percy choosing annabeth only because luke trusts her *slams head into wall*

also, the cgi was so cool for the shoes. Also i didnt know maia was pronounced ‘maya’ and not ‘ma-yee-ah’

i9

I love the dynamic between the trio this episode. In the books it was only really grover-percy and percy-annabeth (duh) i love the inclusion of grover-annabeth

The whole episode was just percy touching upon very touchy topics and me going euuughhogreaksl seeing annabeth and grover’s face LIKE STOP TALKING NOW!

I like that they expanded on the line about the betrayal. Felt like he didnt think about it till the end in the book but in the show it affects how he interacts with annabeth and grover

Percy preaching democracy

SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO THE CONSENSUS SONG THE BEST PART OF THE EPISODE

Its like if drive and on the same boat had a kid

Joe tracz reminding us that he wrote the tlt musical and dont pretend the consensus song is not ‘on the same boat’

The whole scene of annabeth hoarding candy from the grocery store was so funny. The little frustrated face #leahismyannabeth

Also alecto using annabeth’s pride

MEDUSA got the biggest glow up from the books to the tv show, like she was just a victim, yet morally grey. Also I KNEW THAT THE ‘NOT ALL MONSTERS ARE MONSTERS’ SCENE WAS GOING TO AFFECT THE MEDUSA STORY

The sets were so good in this scene

”i dont think annabeth is like that”

Grover distracting medusa, annabeth putting her cap on her, percy cutting off her head; name a better trio

Grover yelling at both percy and annabeth YOU GO GROVER PULL YOURSELVES TOGETHER

”I didn’t think we’d ever be friends” eehraeuiqigdsjkntouaeh that was mean but the dramatic irony

HE SAID THE LINE HE SAID THE LINE

Consensus song supremacy

Anyway, this was the best episode so far