#this isn’t everything I’m sorry :(

[kikaiz]

Wanted to draw Danny for Halloween but drawing him as a ghost would be too cliche. So perhaps after a bad ghost fight, he’d just go for the laziest costume of nothing at all and call it a zombie.

[theswampghost]

i can’t with people saying “that was a happy ending for izzy” do you hear yourselves? him dying in the same way he always believed he would, a hard death, a painful death, when he was just learning to want more? when he was just starting to live for himself and not for ed, a death for the very same person he lived his whole life for? that’s a happy ending, to you? are you hearing yourself?

[rebelrayne]

Hamish having flashbacks of the war in Casa Amor not making it to the Villa AND losing raunchy races AGAIN.

[marsbars1714]

hey wtf.

Wdym all the votes have to be counted? Didn't trump already won by the time you posted that?

Hey no

Common misconception actually! The votes take literal DAYS to count, sometimes even longer and when I posted what I assume you are referring to (my Red Mirage post) votes were (still are) being counted

Last time, we saw the same thing. Bunch of votes for the right on the last day to send in votes (when they START counting, iirc) but it will take a while for everyone’s vote to be counted

Idk if you’re a doomerist (ie: just assuming that because the first chunks of votes were red that Trump won) or if you’re a Trumpie or are unaware of how the election works or wtv and, honestly, I don’t really care. We stay positive in this house. We wait until the final count

We will not let a “Stop The Count” happen again (unless trump is suddenly a Count of something /j) Every (legitimate) vote must be counted. Everyone who wanted a say and got to put their vote in should get to have their words listened to

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

Gentle reminder that my kofi link is in my pinned post. While The Other Q’s ER trip won’t financially destroy us it’s still going to be a big hit on top of having to get some major repairs done on the car before winter hits

[crybaby-bkg]

Arranged marriage AU with Barbarian Bakugou who is so daunting to be around at first. He’s all gruff curses and broad shoulders and scarred cheeks and neck and jaw. He scowls constantly, stares at you while your parents auction you off like some show pig, but doesn’t say much to you besides a grunt of his name. You’re terrified, thinking that he’ll be cruel to you, that you’re being set up for a life full of unhappiness and terror and regret.

But he’s the exact opposite. Bakugou is gentle in ways a man of his size typically wouldn’t be, but he shrinks himself for you. Not in a way that diminishes his status as the newly appointed king, but to respect you, show you that you’re beside him instead of behind him.

He picks you berries on his hunts because he knows the smell of a fresh kill brings nausea to your stomach. You find him along with the other maidens and helpers around his village, sitting beside them, big fingers holding tiny little flowers that he weaves into a crown for you. When he sets it on your head, he purses his lips, mutters something under his breath in his language that you’re still not too familiar with, but sure it means something along the lines of pretty and soft.

And when he finds you bathing in the river only few have access to, he’s sweet the whole time. Doesn’t make a spectacle of you being naked, and is relieved when you don’t instantly cower when he wades his way over to you. You try not to stare at the clawed scars that decorate his pec and jaw when he stands above you, and it helps when he suddenly dumps water all over your head. He shushes you when you splutter, continues on with cupping his hands and letting the water run off of your hair and down your shoulders, scrubbing at your skin until your flesh squeaks. He doesn’t expect you to do the same for him, but he hums in satisfaction when you push him down a little lower so you can wash the crown of his head.

[nicomoon69]

every time I’m forced to see this image bc I have to describe what’s wrong w it to dumb ass ppl a small part of me dies

cw: ugly ass emo whitewashed genshin man

[hanzajesthanza]

the new witcher novel is going to be mid as fuck. and you know what. i’m so ready for it

[possibilistfanfiction]

surgeons au - when they get engaged?

[@gohandinhand hbd pt2 lol // ao3]

//

‘chief superion?’ dr. alvarez says, poking her head into your office and looking more frazzled than you expect and much more frazzled than you ever want to see any of your doctors, especially your head of ortho. ‘do you, uh — do you have a moment?’

you never have a moment, but you close your computer and nod, motion for her to come sit.

‘actually, i… can you come with me? it’s for…’ she sighs. ‘please?’

it worries you, instantly, because this would never happen if things were business as usual, if everything was running smoothly. ‘what’s going on, dr. alvarez?’

she hesitates. ‘it’s ava,’ she finally admits after a few seconds. 

you’ve spent decades perfecting the art of looking calm when you are very much not, but this tests you immediately, the jolt of panic that shoots through your body. when silva had joined your residency program, he had frustrated you beyond measure: you thought her unserious, impatient, selfish — the only reason you had any patience to begin with is because jillian had recommended her so warmly after ava’s time as her doctoral candidate. but you were so, so wrong — about her work ethic, her overwhelming compassion, her deep bravery and even deeper capacity for love. beatrice, from even before she had matched with your hospital, had been your favorite in a way that you trusted her to, one day, take over your program and continue to make sure it’s the best in the world — even better, you’re certain. she’s unshakably calm under pressure, good with patients and colleagues alike, a skilled surgeon and even more skilled teacher.

but ava is special in a way that feels too close to even say — your mentee, the incredible leader of next generation of neurosurgeons and researchers: miracle after miracle, delivered with a bravado and a kindness that’s impossible to teach.

so you nod, stand and grab your cane with the steadiest hands you can manage. camila leads you, silently and quickly, clearly also trying to act calm, to the nearest staff bathroom to the OR, and you open the door and then see ava sitting on the small bench there, slumped over a little to one side. normally, ava never stops moving, always fidgeting, gesturing, greeting you with a wave and a daily attempt to get you to come up with a secret handshake with her. but now, ava’s face is set in a pained grimace and her body is noticeably still.

‘hey, dr. s,’ they say, trying to smile, but it doesn’t work.

‘hello, dr. silva.’ you feel caught in no-man’s land for a moment, with ava so still and camila hovering worriedly. 

‘so, i, uh. well, first of all, my surgery went great. secondly, please don’t tell bea until we know what’s going on.’

‘ava —‘

‘— i can’t move.’

you don’t have any comforting thing to say: you’ve seen ava’s scans over the years, especially when her back has flared before; you know about how jillian is always working on more effective injections, better tech. you hear about it when you visit her lab for business, and you also hear about it over quiet dinners at either of your houses, with the lights low and her voice taking on a sadder timbre than the determined, professional clip when she’s talking only of science, not of love too. 

so instead you nod and walk toward ava, crouch down with only a few clicks in your knee — you’ll take it. ‘numbness? tingling?’

‘i —‘ ava’s voice shakes and she takes a deep breath, steadies herself. ‘i can’t feel anything. it’s — there’s just nothing.’

you go through a few more questions and she answers with what you can tell is honesty: she’d been in pain lately but nothing out of the ordinary, especially with the winter weather rolling in; there wasn’t anything concerning before operating, or else she certainly would’ve postponed; after she finished — eight hours of concentrating and microscopic movements later — when she sat down, things degraded quickly from there.

‘i had my intern page cam,’ they say, ‘because i just — bea is going to panic and go into worst-case-scenario mode, and i don’t know if it actually is worst-case-scenario or just, you know, a passionate flare-up.’

all of you can guess that this is not a normal flare, but, ‘okay. let’s get an mri then. but i don’t want to move you without a brace and a backboard.’

ava pouts.

‘you know i can’t justify just helping you transfer to a chair right now.’

‘yeah, but it doesn’t mean i have to like it.’

you place a tender hand on the top of her head and she leans into it, just for a moment: a comfort, quiet and small and, you imagine, as much as she can accept right now.

‘alright,’ ava says, sniffling. ‘let’s get this show on the road.’

/

you would never take away ava’s autonomy, especially not now, but when you show her the scans — the worst worst-case-scenario results — she bites her bottom lip, clearly trying not to cry, and you say, ‘can i page dr. choi for you?’

ava looks toward the ceiling in frustration, in fear, in anger, in grief. ‘yeah,’ she says eventually. ‘yeah, i want her here.’

/

it’s a risky surgery, one that even you feel unsure about: if things go wrong, or, really, even if they go right, ava could have worse chronic pain and irreversible paralysis. beatrice accepts those risks steadily when you talk to her privately, when camila is doing one final pre-op update of ava’s vitals, her mouth set in a firm line, jaw clenched tightly.

the risks that shake both of you are much worse: too much blood loss, stroke, a lack of oxygen to the brain. you don’t want to say them, let alone think them about ava, but they both deserve to know, to choose.

but, ‘there’s no other options, are there?’ beatrice says, finally sitting down and putting her head in her hands, running a hand over her hair and then sitting back in the stiff chair, slumped, horrified. 

your silence is the only answer she needs, because she’s brilliant and there’s nothing else you can say: you will do everything in your power. she knows that. 

‘just — i love him.’

‘i know,’ you tell her. ‘i do too.’

she nods. ‘okay,’ she says, steeling her resolve as she looks to ava’s room. ‘okay.’

/

‘hey,’ ava says, ‘can you scoot where i can fully see you with this stupid neck brace on?’

even without being able to move, even scared out of her mind, ava glares at you. it makes you want to smile, the fight that sits in her bones. 

beatrice sits carefully on the side of ava’s bed fully in her line of sight. ‘what do you need, my love?’

ava smiles softly. you wonder, briefly, if she feels the grief of not being able to touch her partner, always so tactile. ‘don’t pretend this couldn’t end really badly, please.’

‘ava.’

‘bea.’ 

beatrice frowns, staring down at their linked hands, held tightly even if ava can’t himself.

‘i’ve lived way longer and better than i ever thought i would,’ ava says.

‘and you’ll have plenty of good time left,’ beatrice says, stubborn even still.

‘well, i hope so,’ ava concedes. ‘but i just — i gotta ask you something, just in case.’

beatrice swallows, clearly fighting back tears, and nods.

‘there’s a ring in my tan purse, the one i never use.’

beatrice does start to cry then; she shakes her head.

ava’s smile is so, so sad. ‘i was waiting for, like, the perfect moment or the perfect plan. which you still deserve, but, well.’ she shrugs with her jaw clenched in pain. ‘i can’t get down on one knee right now, but i know you’ll like the ring.’

‘i — i’ve known,’ beatrice admits, which has them both laughing through tears. beatrice dries ava’s cheeks first, then her own.

‘and you didn’t say anything?!’

‘i knew you wanted to ask. also, i was just looking for a spare mint; it didn’t seem fair to ruin your surprise for such a ridiculous reason.’

ava shakes her head. ‘that’s very kind.’ and then, ‘so, what do you say then?’

‘i, um — i have a ring too, in my winter pack.’

ava grins. ‘so that’s a yes?’

‘yes, ava,’ beatrice says, then leans forward to kiss him softly. ‘of course it’s a yes. as soon as you can, i’ll marry you. i’ve wanted to for years.’

‘wow,’ ava says. ‘okay, cool. sweet. it’s a yes from me too, obviously. also — is it a big diamond? family heirloom?’

beatrice laughs, despite it all. ‘i thought a diamond band might suit work better.’

‘hot,’ ava tells her. ‘well, when i wake up, i expect it.’

‘i’ll send lilith to rifle through all our belongings as soon as i can.’

ava sobers. ‘i wish i could feel you.’

beatrice cups ava’s jaw gently, her thumb grazing over her cheek. ‘i’m here.’

‘i love you,’ ava says.

‘i love you so much, ava silva.’ beatrice smiles, watery and terrified and sorrowful and grateful. she kisses ava, who leans her head up as best she can with a neck brace on. ‘in this life.’

ava nods, sniffles, and then looks at you, resolved, determined. ‘let’s do it.’

/

‘promise me,’ ava says, loopy from the drugs already administered in her IV but not asleep yet, ‘that you’ll take care of her if things don’t work out.’

‘things will work out.’

ava shakes her head. ‘we both know they might not.’

you smooth your hand over ava’s hair. ‘you are both loved beyond measure,’ you say, and ava takes it in.

‘well, try your best not to fuck it up.’

you laugh, and ava grins, and then her eyes flutter closed.

/

you explain to beatrice — now changed into joggers and a hoodie you’re sure was once ava’s — her alma mater not even close to beatrice’s — since it’s the middle of the night, lilith sitting stiffly beside her — that ava is alive but there were complications: too much blood loss, low oxygen levels. her spine is stabilized and you think — you hope — that part, at least, was successful, but you’re just not really sure if ava will wake up — or, if she does, what her cognitive function will be, who she’ll be. 

beatrice takes it, just for a moment, like a physical blow, but then she nods. ‘thank you,’ she says, quiet and polite without fail, but lilith looks on, concerned. 

‘we’ll monitor him closely in the neuro icu,’ you say, ‘and hope for the best.’ you don’t think beatrice has prayed in years and years, but there’s a rosary, probably lilith’s, clenched in her hand. 

‘okay,’ she says, and follows you quietly there. 

even though beatrice is a surgeon, seeing ava hooked up to so many monitors, drains and leads and an oxygen cannula in her nose, seems to give her pause, slightly unsteady on her feet — just for a moment, but enough for you to think nothing of it when you take her in your arms and hug her tight. unlike ava, who is always physically affectionate, beatrice has been reticent for as long as you’ve known her. but she sinks into it this time, letting out a shaky sob while you rub her back, and then steadies herself eventually. 

she sits down by ava’s bedside, faithful as always, and brave, and fishes out a box from her pocket, opens it and then slips a beautiful ring onto ava’s left hand. ava’s hands are cold, you know, because you made personally sure that she was comfortably settled in bed; but beatrice just holds steady, brings it to her lips, kisses the cool, still skin there. 

she murmurs something — please wake up; please don’t leave me; i love you, you’re not sure. 

you’re technically both done with your shift and also behind on so much paperwork, but you settle down at the nurse’s station and watch ava’s vitals as beatrice prays.

/

jillian brings you breakfast early the next morning, kissing your forehead in a show of affection that you both rarely allow at either of your workplaces. but she loves ava too, for years now, even longer than you, and so she takes you by the hand and leads you into her room. beatrice is asleep on mary’s shoulder, shannon bringing coffee for everyone. there certainly aren’t this many people supposed to be allowed in an icu room, but it doesn’t stop anyone because it doesn’t really matter: whenever a nurse comes in to change a dressing or an iv, you all stay out of the way. it’s quiet, small conversations only. you think ava would probably hate it — the lack of stupid jokes, beatrice’s bright laugh, mary and lilith’s fondness not at all masked by their snark.

you take turns getting beatrice to eat; you sleep lightly. eventually jillian makes you shower, changing out of your scrubs and into comfortable slacks and a soft sweater she’d brought you. 

it stays like this for two days: so many people from the hospital dropping by to see how ava’s doing, to drop off flowers, to check in with beatrice too. ava’s kindness is remarkably present even when he’s not fully; being returned tenfold. you don’t even ask or say anything, just make sure that beatrice’s shifts are covered by your other cardio attendings, and so she waits, sentinel. 

and then, just as beatrice is about to doze off again, 46 hours after you’d finished surgery, ava groans. beatrice shoots up like she’s not sure it happened, a specter too good to imagine. 

‘ava?’ she asks hesitantly.

it seems like a herculean effort, and you wait with bated breath, but then ava fights and opens her eyes. ‘hey bea,’ she says, weak and rough but coherent, aware, sure. 

beatrice smiles, immediate tears running down her cheeks. ‘hi.’

ava lifts her left hand — a miracle in itself — an inch or so off the bed, but easy, natural, and sees the ring there, beams. ‘hot.’

beatrice kisses ava’s forehead, her cheeks, her mouth — joy, everywhere.

/

you walk ava down the aisle, almost a year later — it was slow going, at first, and then more and more progress in physical therapy, beatrice’s steadfast reassurance through even the most frustrating, painful days. but now you’re here, ava smiling at your matching canes. 

‘wouldn’t be here without you,’ he says, in his wispy, beautiful white dress and immaculate makeup. 

you smile, hug her to you. ‘it’s an honor.’

you walk her down the aisle, steady and easy, both of you, and then watch as she stands, grinning at an already emotional beatrice. visible below her hair that falls just at her jaw, the newest scar along ava’s neck — from your scalpel, as careful and neat as you could — has faded; is still fading; has healed.

[deathnguts]

I know the hunger games AU is owned by Jegulus or whatever because of crimson rivers but I’m gonna different and make it about Bartylus because no one can stop me so here’s a detailed summary/play by play of major events of the AU please give it a chance it’s eaten my brain

No trigger warnings under the cut besides yknow mentions of murder but it’s not graphic, there’s only a cut because it’s long as shit

(not inspired by crimson rivers really at all because I never read it) ((also implied trans regulus at the end because eveyrone that isn’t Sirius or Barty doesn’t know regulus is a man because transphobia and closets and stuff and you can pry trans regulus out of my cold dead hands))

Ok so I imagine that the pure blooded families would be from career districts, like district one (luxury goods) I imagine. And Regulus, per the rules of the game, has never been allowed to participate because Sirius already competed and won when he was sixteen and regulus was eleven. This leads to regulus becoming disillusioned to the glory of the games early on since his beloved brother did come home with the honor but he was completely changed and traumatized and claimed he only came home with his life. Regulus sees the games for the horrific blood bath they are as he grows older due to taking on being his brother’s caretaker since no one else would and Sirius completely let himself go in the throes of depression, making regulus see what the games do to even their winners first hand.

Barty, on the other hand, does not see the games for what they are and he wants nothing more than to go and to win. He’s always believed in the ideology that winning the hunger games is the ultimate honor and playing them is the ultimate rush. I imagine, in the context of this universe, his father would probably be influential enough to be involved in the inner workings of the games. And unlike any other parent involved in the planning of the games, he doesn’t rig it so his son won’t be a participant, he rigs it so he will. Knowing this, every moment that isn’t spent with regulus at Sirius’ winners home or somewhere more comfortable like in town or something, Barty is training for when he’s selected for the games (since the careers have it rigged and all.)

Regulus tries to live in denial about the fact Barty will certainly go and may not come back or maybe come back like Sirius did up until the reaping day that changes everything. Him and Barty are sixteen, just like Sirius was, when they both hear his full name get called. Barty is beaming with pride as he’s pushed up the steps and regulus can barely contain a sob. (He only does because he knows it would be out of place for a career district civilian like himself to mourn such a thing, and he doesn’t want his family thinking he’s a rebel or something.)

Regulus rushes to see Barty before he’s taken away immediately. He’s crying in Barty’s arms and holding him like there’s no tomorrow because there truly might not be. Barty is less brash and loud with his pride obviously, the love of his life is crying in his arms, but he’s not swayed enough to truly be nervous. He simply holds regulus tight and tips his chin up, smiles and tells him he shouldn’t worry because if he’s not just coming home for honor, he’s coming home to marry regulus. They’ll be together forever when Barty gets back, it’ll all be ok. Regulus tries to believe that and gives Barty his favorite of his rings off his finger as Barty’s token from home. Barty puts it on the chain he always wears as a necklace since he knows he’ll be using his hands a lot in the arena.

Once Barty’s on the quick train ride to the capitol (since district one is so close) his smile fades to an even determination and he holds the ring in his clenched fist to his lips the whole way. The other careers will poke fun at it later, seeing as how there’s no way a simple silver ring on an even simpler chain can be weaponized, but what they think doesn’t matter because Barty’s going to kill them.

Barty optimizes on his wild card persona for his training, fashion statements, and marketing himself since he knows the crowd loves a winner who gets their hands dirty. And during his interview, he speaks of how he’s going home to the love of his life and shows off his ring to get real about his near proposal to get the crowd to love him even more. Everyone loves a romance. Regulus watches from home, alone since Sirius would rather die than watch anything to do with the games. He’s shaking from his fetal position on the ground and he can only pray Barty will be right in the end.

Before anyone really knows it, the games begin. Barty gets exactly what he wanted from the blood bath (sadistic violence and securing of the cornucopia. He even takes out his ‘partner’ from district one while the other careers are busy. Because he only has one partner from district one, and he’s not in the arena.) and regulus watches with his heart beating out of his chest.

The games go on swimmingly at first. Regulus is itching to help, to send any gift Barty may need at a moments notice, but Barty truly doesn’t need anything from him since he’s monopolized all the materials. He feel useless and he’s so terrified every second of the day he curses the editors of the broadcast every time his love isn’t on the screen because what’s happening when they pan to anyone else?! Barty’s doing mostly fine for himself since the lower districts are keeping to themselves and the other careers aren’t down to the wire enough to start back stabbing yet. Until they are.

Barty sees it as luck that he’s the youngest career here, halfway naive to the extent of the rigging the games have in favor of his idealization of them. The others single him out in their heads immediately due to his age and his whole ‘lover boy’ show at the interviews. They all agreed without having to discuss that he’s the first to go the second it’s convenient.

The next week or so is spent with the careers staking out the arena and then doing organized hunts for other tributes. They all go off well, the careers always win though not without any fighting back obviously. They lose the girl from four and the guy from three, girl from three gets injured but not enough to sit out and ugh Barty’s annoyed that he has to care about any of them. The guy from two is always sending him off on his own, claiming it’s because Barty’s a ‘crazy fucker’ and it’s like sending a rabid dog to some sheep and he’s certain Barty will come back panting like one with the blood of his win on him (secretly hoping he fails and doesn’t come back at all soon.) But he does, every single time. Barty thinks it’s because he was judged right, everyone else slowly gets more wary of him when they realize he’s not the easy pickings they imagined and he may actually be a problem down the road.

With only a few stragglers from lower districts left, the other careers decide to put him down before they run out of numbers. They go for him when they think he’s asleep, but he’s not an idiot and he knows they have it out for him and he wouldn’t dare to trust them enough to sleep around them. He actually hasn’t slept in days because of it. (Regulus hasn’t either, desperately afraid that he’ll miss even a single second of what’s happening to Barty.) He’s loopy, deranged from all the sadistic heavy lifting he’s been doing. He feels like a rabid dog now more than ever as he’s literally clawing and biting his former teammates when they manage to disarm him after he fatally wounds the girl from two and she fades away without him even looking twice. He takes out the injured girl from four, no was it two? No he just killed girl from two, it had to be… one? Yeah, one. She’s easy pickings and guy from… four, seems mad about it. It’s him and two guys, four and two, and they seem pissed. It’s funny, Barty can’t stop laughing. They really think they can beat him. Hilarious.

Regulus watches in horror and Sirius jolts from his sleep four rooms down when he hears his brother scream because in Barty’s insomnia and shock induced delusions, he gets snuck up on from a boy from five that’d been with them, one Barty hadn’t even noticed. He’s stabbed literally in the back, low and a few inches from his spine with the knife they’d taken away from him earlier.

Barty freezes, but not for long before he feels the knife twist and get pulled out. He practically howls at the pain when he whips around and kicks the guy down. God damn ghost, didn’t he kill him already? He takes his knife back and some other guys come in for the kill but they’re stupid because they’re getting close to Barty and he has his knife back. Barty doesn’t clearly remember what happened next, just that three bodies fell, he got cut again in his thigh and in both his arms, and then he passed out in the pool of blood he’d created.

Drones come ti pick up three bodies, Barty isn’t one of them. He wakes up to the movement around him and he feels like hell. He’s bleeding out, fuck why hadn’t he wrapped himself up before laying down? He did lay down, right? There’s an another drone that comes in and it’s medical supplies. A lot of them. Surely from a very concerned and very wealthy donor. He uses them graciously and waits out a day, maybe two, or was it three actually? for the hurt to subside enough to hunt again. It doesn’t.

He’s drifting in and out of consciousness and he’s not even fully functioning when he’s awake. He keeps getting drones with more medical supplies and he realizes with barely half a mind they’re coming from regulus. He can barely stay awake long enough to use them and keep himself alive with the little control he has and he realizes in this lethargic time that regulus was right. He feels awful, on so many levels. What he had to do, what he did for fun, what got him here, wasn’t worth it. He wants to go home. He hopes his mind will stop being foggy and loud when he gets home.

There someone standing by him, they don’t even have a weapon. They’re looking at him with fear in their eyes, but they’re stepping closer. They’re going to kill him. Barty spits, they’re going to try. His mind is loud and his blood is louder when he’s in another scuffle with whatever stupid fucking lower district tribute the old group missed while policing the arena. Theyre rolling on the ground for any hint of an upper hand. But the tribute’s weak, clearly malnourished and too scared to be calculated because Barty gets on top easy. He has his hands around their neck for just a moment before their long ass nails are digging into his fingers- no, they’re gloves, with razors at the tips. Fuck. He involuntarily pulls back with a hiss and they’re on top of him again. He’s not going out like this.

He kicks them on their back with his good leg and they gasp from the air knocking out of them on impact. He doesn’t have time to get their gloves off before they get their breath back, but he does have time to yank his necklace over his head and over theirs. They struggle and he flips them over to get his thighs on their upper arms to stop their death hands. Their razor fingers are digging into every inch of him they can and he barely feels the pain. Their movements slow and their eyes tear up as silver wrings out their last breath. Barty’s declared the winner. Was that really the last tribute?

It must have been, because he’s hauled out of the arena and into the capitol. Or at least, tried to, because he distantly remembers the terror and adrenaline in him not subsiding soon enough for him to trust the capital people come to retrieve him and he has to be put to sleep because he lunges at one of them. He wakes up and they’ve healed him completely with their capital tech and he wants to go home. There’s the after game interview he can’t hear over the buzzing in his ears and he tells them he wants to go home. He sees his father shortly after since he oversees things like the interviews and Barty tells him he wants to go home.

When he finally does, he could cry from just the sight of his regulus waiting for him right when the train doors open. And he does when he finally has him in his arms again. The two sob together on the ground and they hold each other like lifelines. It takes hours for them to calm down enough to even walk to the car to go home, and they do so pressed close with their hands intertwined. They huddle together in the car, and then they huddle together in bed the second their home. Regulus tells Barty he was right, Barty tells regulus he was right.

They’re both beyond shaken and traumatized from the games, Barty on behalf of eveyrthing he did and what was done to him and regulus because he had to watch. But they’re together now, and there’s never a moment in the future the public will ever them not. They’re shaken and attached at the hip at all times, agoraphobic and terrified of other people in case theyre a threat.

But the capital waits for none and they want a wedding. There was a buzz about it ever since Barty was in the top two for four days. And then when the crowd saw the psycho lover boy choking the last tribute in his way with his ‘wedding’ ring? Oh, now they can’t be stopped. The pair are rushed to the capital again and they cling to each other for dear life. Their wedding is completely planned already when they arrive, surely by game orchestrators and excited producers like their marriage is just an after party for the games. The overly eager crowd of make up artists and designers try to rush them apart for dressing and Barty nearly bites them, so they forgo the tradition of making the groom wait to see the bride in ‘her’ gown.

The crowd isn’t too upset because the display is a testaments to the capital’s newest favorite couples’ unconditional, inseparable love that defied every odd. And that’s the theme of the night. Hundreds of guests neither of the lovers know swarming them with praises and questions about how sad it was to watch their lover almost die and how sweet it was he didn’t and are they going to have children soon and wow double immunity for the baby when it does come with the Black and Crouch winners as uncle and father and-

It takes a near breaking point, luck, and a distraction from Sirius (who’s been itching to fuck with the crowd all night after being forced to be here) for the couple to get away for just a moment to breathe. It’s all so jarring, Barty was dying just two days ago and he got regulus back only a little after that and it’s all so much, too much and it’s so loud. But they’re married now, which he wanted; he’s alive, which he wanted; he’s home in regulus’ presence, which he desperately wanted.

Regulus looks beautiful in the sparkling white dress Barty’s games designer made for him, Barty apologizes that he has to be seen by so many people in it. Regulus says it was inevitable, Barty says it’s still not right. Regulus asks what is. Barty doesn’t answer for a moment. They sigh and hug each other close like they’d been doing non stop every chance they could for the past twenty eight hours. Barty murmurs that in everything that’s happened, in everything he’s done, the only thing that’s remained right since the start is regulus, his love for him more specifically. Regulus snorts a little and teases that he sounds like he’s going to propose. Barty doesnt respond for a moment. Then he’s pulling away from the embrace and regulus almost jumps but Barty doesn’t go far when he gets on one knee and pulls his token necklace from under his suit and over his head and smiles up at Regulus’s dumbfounded face.

Regulus Black, love of my life, my only light in the dark, would you do me the honor-

Yes.

He’s crying, they’re both crying. But it’s better. Everything’s better. Barty’s home, he made it home. They’ll be safe and sound at home.

[zorosdimples]

knowing i should take a step back from tumblr for my own wellbeing vs. being emotionally attached to this app and the people on it

[aurlworthfightingfor]

Argh I just saw a tiktok explaining the ending of the latest doctor who episode because people apparently needed it explained to them. One person even said the episodes this season aren’t good because they shouldn’t need to have the endings explained to them.

No. They shouldn’t. I get that not everyone’s on the same page. Not everyone’s had the same experiences.

But. It’s obvious. Even if it’s not obvious during the episode itself - and I’ll chalk that up to the personal experience thing - the ending hits you like a fucking brick.

The people of Finetime were racist.

If you don’t get that by the end. If you watched the whole ass thing and still needed that explained to you; then you’re just being deliberately obtuse.

[tsukkisloser]

gosh dude I just really really wanna be tsukishima’s bitch :( I wanna follow him around and kiss up to him and do literally anything he wants me to. I want him to use me :( anytime he’s horny? I’m choking on his dick or being bent over. he’s such a meanie too and I’d practically suck his dick defending him from ppl who misunderstand him (even if they’re a little right). and the fact that he wouldn’t even really acknowledge me makes it so much hotter :( mmmpjhgv I wanna worship him

[serendipitouscontaminant]

Okay. Yes, Jacob is a chatterbox.

He talks about stuff like his school play from a million years ago or trees or whatever, and he does overshare in Valentine’s Day, but that was very positive oversharing and there’s a pretty high possibility that he knew people weren’t really fully listening to him.

I guess that in Festival when he talks about his night terrors that can also be seen as oversharing, but it’s heavily implied that he is loopy from sleep deprivation. Which just goes to show that Jacob’s most likely to show negative feelings when things have gotten absolutely unbearable.

Because in Holiday Hookah it was like pulling teeth to get him to admit why he was acting how he was.

And he did spend over a year not mentioning that he had a boyfriend of two years. He has not once mentioned either one of his parents when the other two younger teachers have mentioned at least one of theirs, and often. He pretty rarely mentioned Zach. Most instances of him talking about himself have been offhand or pretty surface-level. His life revolves pretty hard around his work and the people he’s met through Abbott.

(And given what we know about him and his people pleasing tendencies, it’s much easier for me to imagine him not saying anything to Zach out of fear than him bringing up to him that he’s unhappy in the relationship. Which is essentially what the episode says.

And lbr, we barely knew Zach. Anything is IC for him. And given how little we knew about the relationship…tbh, their relationship dying isn’t so much a surprise for me as exactly as believable as their relationship being happy.)

And sure, maybe he says more off-camera, but it’s still reasonable to assume that he isn’t saying the most important things. What I’m saying is that Jacob is cagey about his personal life.

And Jacob does not like having personal problems. He likes fixing problems. (He often makes them instead, but hey, I never said he always sets out to do what he wants to do.) I do think it makes sense that he would simply not bring up his own personal conflict, especially given that he’s prone to avoidance and it’s a very painful issue, and I think that the fact he did bring it up was because he really trusts Gregory.

Anyway, that is my take on Breakup and why I was not surprised by the breakup or the seeming abruptness of it. It was all brewing in Jacob’s head for months; we just weren’t privy to it because he guarded that part of his life from his friends and from the cameras. (Who were gone for five months anyway.)

[ursie]

I’m sorry but this is awful and pandering like. Babs hates her and it’s wrong but we don’t need to pretend she doesn’t and hasn’t said the most misogynistic stuff about her behind her back consistently like. Let her be a bitch 😭 THEYRE NOT FRIENDS ITS OK like?? it’s honestly more misogynistic to insist women can’t hate each other or have ugly/bad traits on the basis of being women like. Babs is consistently mean to Kory. Kory doesn’t give a shit about Babs. It’s ok. Literally it would be so much funnier if they acknowledged it as a one sided rivalry that it is and always has been 😭 I’m a Babs stan but ignoring her bad traits and just making stuff up to make her look good isn’t helping anyone

Also Babs is straight up not one of the best fighters on the planet she’s not even one of the best fighters in the batfam like 💀 embarrassing I’m sorry I’m a Babs stan but this is out of a bad fanfic. She’s an ok fighter but she’s an unparalleled hacker and tactician ect ect like she’s a good gymnast and stuff but honestly she wasn’t at her best as batgirl and that’s ok. Cass & Helena (and maybe Steph) are better fighters than her.

Literally all of the bat boys save for Duke are consistently better fighters than her. It’s ok. She’s not the best fighter. It’s ok.

If you want her to be the best at something let her be Oracle again 🙄!!!!

Also it’s bs to be like Starfire the best warrior on another planet like she’s one of the best in the galaxy you two are not the same 😭 don’t play

[squuote]

honestly where did all the dynamic stanley/narrator stuff go. I want to see them being dumbass weirdos who fight all the time again.