#this...is a labor. there's no love here

[iguessitsjustme]

Love Sea Ep 1 Thoughts

Okay. I know I said my next liveblog would be She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat because it won my poll BUT I decided I’m gonna be liveblogging Love Sea as it airs each week. And I will be liveblogging She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat later today. Or at least starting the liveblog. But liveblogging Love is the only way I think I make it through this series. I got my snacks I my got a diet coke. Pray for me watching a MAME show. Keep in mind that I am not a fan of MAME generally (and I have now finished this episode and this show is no exception. Don't get mad at me if you click the read more and don't like what I say). Under the cut as per usual:

I do like water so the water effect and sheer amount of water at the very beginning makes me extremely happy. I want more water forever.

FISH!!!!

“Dive and go get it” is not an appropriate response to dropping a pen in the water. Accept your loss.

DON’T PUSH PEOPLE OFF OF BOATS. DO NOT PUSH PEOPLE OFF OF BOATS. I DO NOT CARE. DO NOT PUSH PEOPLE OFF OF BOATS. HE IS NOT WEARING A LIFE JACKET. HE IS NOT PREPARED TO BE IN THAT WATER AT ALL. DO NOT PUSH PEOPLE OFF OF BOATS.

A nice, tranquil place being called heaven on earth makes sense. Our protagonist showing up and immediately calling it hell on earth because ???? does not make sense. Maybe see more than two feet of it before declaring it to be hell?

Calling someone that speaks a different dialect an idiot when you are on their island…bold. Dumb. And bold.

Do not steal his phone. You’re just an asshole. You’re both assholes. But you pushed a man off of a boat so I hate you more. All the other guy has done is been uppity and snobbish. He hasn’t actively endangered anyone’s life for a laugh.

And now purposefully speaking a dialect he doesn’t understand. Yes, he was an ass about it, but you knew he didn’t understand and did it anyway. And now he has explicitly said he doesn’t understand and you’re rubbing it in his face. You can speak a dialect he knows and understands and you both know you can and yet…

Oh I got it. He behaves like a teenager. But like the kind of teenager that needs a good life resorting. He’s a bully but no one really calls him out for it because he disguises it behind class clown behavior. He needs a swift kick in the pants considering he’s an adult that’s behaving this way.

I dislike how these shows always portray women as incapable of talking about the hotness of these guys. It’s not just BL. Other dramas are just as guilty if not more so. But c’mon. Having women characters does not excuse your portrayal of the other women in the story as only caring about some random dude’s hotness. Mut is hot? Not my taste but I can see why people consider him hot. But I guarantee most women on vacation, while they talk about hot guys, are also doing other things and talking about other things. Like the books they are reading on the beach. And how hot they themselves are. And the next activity they’re doing. They aren’t laser focusing on Mut. Except that the show says they are. Because they have no identities outside of a weak plot device to convince the audience of how hot Mut is. If he was really that hot, this tactic would not be needed. It would be conveyed in the rest of the show.

See how differently it’s framed for the men? Women are the ones interest in Mut, but when it’s for the men, it’s that Mut is open to them. The attraction is his. This is definitely setting the tone for the relationship that’s being built. Cause our other lowkey asshole (I’ll learn his name eventually maybe) is a man. He is not interested in Mut. But he is apparently Mut’s type so Mut will be attracted to him. It’s a different way of taking away agency but here it is on a character level and not removing agency from an entire gender.

They better be delivering this to me I have a feeling I’m gonna need it.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA get em

This montage of people interacting with Mut trying to tell us what a good person and community member he is feels like such lazy writing. Incredibly lazy writing. Like makes me angry because despite her faults, I know MAME is capable of better than…that.

DID HE JUST LEFT HIMSELF INTO THE ROOM BECAUSE HE HAS A KEY. ABSOLUTELY THE FUCK NOT.

Romance *gags* aside, this is incredibly poor customer service. He didn’t knock. He didn’t announce he was coming in. I’m hoping it’s not early in the morning and that our lowkey asshole is just sleeping in. He’s cleaning the room and going through not-his-things. HE TOOK PICTURES. Someone call the police. Or call the me. I’ll go kick his ass.

Also also also the fact that he had that key that he was supposed to give to lowkey asshole means that HE SHOULD NOT HAVE USED IT TO ENTER THE ROOM. HE SHOULD NOT HAVE HAD IT.

Okay I need a break. This scene has gone on entirely too long with just the two of them standing on talking. There needs to be some movement on the screen and the tiny amount of body movement is not cutting it. Lowkey asshole should be walking away during this conversation. That would be in character and provide the necessary movement. But as it is…this whole scene feels stale and stagnant. So I’m gonna go make some food. Maybe I’ll be less pissy about this whole scene when I come back.

Okay. I am back but I am not less pissy. Tell me, how did I manage to mess up pasta? Truly is a skill I must say. And I’m not that bad of a cook. I swear but…I digress. Let’s just get back into it *grumbles*

That was the weakest punch I’ve ever seen. And I have weak little noodle arms.

Even the GL part of this is toxic. Miss secretary ma’am. I have an idea. Send her all of the shit on your plate. Email her all of the shit you have to do. In the email tell her what hours you are actually available and if she cannot work with that, then that’s unfortunate but that is her only option.

You don’t call the owner’s secretary to fix a light bulb. You call maintenance. Girl if you don’t grow a spine and tell her no….

I had to mute this damn show because the music is trying to convince me this is romantic and I am not a fool. I have eyes. Also stop using flashbacks of things that happened earlier this episode. This is the first episode. We know what Mut is thinking about when staring at his hand. We were there for that scene five minutes ago.

If someone started reading what I was writing over my shoulder without being explicitly invited to, I would pour hot sauce in their eyes.

This hug makes me mad. I’ll leave it at that.

Okay. It’s time for something I can’t believe I’ve never done before! Rae’s hatred scale. Where I rank the characters on how much I hate them:

Vi - 2/10. Honestly give this girl a raise. She isn’t paid enough to deal with this. I do need her to get a backbone though. C’mon my girl you can do it. You can learn to stand up for yourself. I believe in you.

Rak - 5/10. Look I learned his name! I think. He’s lowkey an asshole but honestly he just wants to be left alone but was sent on this trip that he didn’t ask for and is now being harassed by this guy that he doesn’t like because his “friend” paid for it.

Mook - 10/10. Girl what’s wrong with you? I hope someone slaps you in your face. Learn how to treat people.

Mut - 1000000000/10. DO NOT PUSH PEOPLE OFF OF BOATS.

[jeanmoreaux]

adore how the evil boop is *the* expression of love when booping people like yes ofc i did waste precious seconds to press that stupid button for an annoyingly long time just to send you the most useless yet most specialest, weirdly aggressive boop <3

[prolibytherium]

I will say I get the vibe that a lot of peoples interest and support for strikers is a bit too much for a vicarious ‘burn it down’ thrill, rather than for the actual goals of a strike.

Like UPS has agreed to come back to the table and it is very possible they will concede to Union demands and avert a strike. And if that happens (so long as the union does not make concessions on its key demands) it’s a good thing. It’s a victory for the laborers. It is the same ultimate conclusion that a strike would intend to produce except without the workers having to go on (not so great) strike pay for a week or two.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 1

Or: a secret Admirer AU

Less than a month into the school year, and Steve’s already making use of the library. If Mrs. Click could see him now, she’d be proud–until she caught sight of the blank notebook page in front of him and the lack of textbooks on the table. 

He feels stupid; he’s hunched over his notebook, trying to make his thoughts transfer onto the page in any coherent form. But, he’s not like Eddie with his impassioned speeches and clever English papers.

Words flow through Eddie in fully-formed, concrete ideas. For Steve, it’s more of a drip. Each word has to be scaffolded onto the previous one with blood, sweat, and tears. Even then, it’s never quite right. Too abrupt, never what he was actually trying to say.

He’s just never been good with words.

By the time he gives up, there’s more crossed out than left written, so he gets a clean page of paper and transcribes it as best he can. He’s left with:

       Your hair is pretty. Do you use conditioner?

Steve tears it from his notebook and lays it flat atop his table in the library, smoothing out any crinkles in the page. It feels like the start to something, sure, but there’s more blank space on the page than words. By a lot.

He leans back over his work, adds a little wonky heart in his blue pen and signs the whole thing—

       ❤ your secret admirer

—the way all the girls who leave notes in his locker do. Their notes are usually on pretty paper, written in sparkly gel pen that smells like strawberries. The i’s are sometimes dotted with little hearts he’ll never admit to finding cute. And there’s envelopes involved, and usually more than eleven measly words.

His looks like something Eddie’ll toss out before opening, mistaking it for trash.

Steve grimaces. How do girls do this? Do they all take some sort of class on how to write pretty letters on pretty enough paper that boys will fall in love with them? Is that what they teach in Home Ec? He should have never let Tommy mock him into switching to shop class.

Should he ask a girl?

Under no conditions will he ever ask Carol. She’d have far too many uncomfortable questions and tell the whole school all of his embarrassing answers. He’d be run out of town within days, Carol holding the sharpest pitchfork.

Steve leans back in his chair with a groan too loud for the library and fists his hands to rub tired eyes.

“Are you okay?” Steve jerks, sending his pen and paper careening to the ground in his attempt to cover the compromising words upon the page. “Oh, sorry!”

Steve watches, horrified, as Chrissy Cunningham bends down to pick his supplies up off the carpet before he’s had time to scramble out of his chair. She’s in her cheer uniform, white zip-up Hawkins hoodie covering her arms. She looks perfect and preppy and just like all the girls who’ve ever left a note in his locker.

She’d be able to write something that Eddie would want to read.

“Steve?” Chrissy’s hovering over him, lips pursed, eyes big and worried. “Are you okay?”

“Shit, sorry,” he replies. She’s got his note clutched to her chest. He curls his fingers against the urge to reach out for it—that’ll just draw her attention, and that’s the last thing Steve wants right now. “Just got lost in my head.”

“Anything I can help with?”

He knows what she’s going to do before it happens. Chrissy’s sweet—if there’s a way to help, she’ll want to. So, she holds out the paper and begins to read, probably expecting an assignment she can tutor him on, and there they are: Steve’s damning words written in still-wet blue ink.

Her brow furrows as she takes an obscene amount of time mouthing out the words before she looks back up to meet his eyes. “Did someone give this to you?”

Her eyes are still big, but they look sad now, like just the thought of someone receiving the note he’d slaved over is enough to distress her. Unable to help himself, Steve snatches it from her hands and crumples it into a ball, damning words hidden in his fist.

Chrissy gasps at his abrupt movement and takes a halting step away.

“I wrote it,” he mutters, no longer able to meet her eyes.

She’s silent for long enough that he’d think she left, except the library’s quiet, and he hasn’t heard her take a step. He stares at the grains of the wood in the table, empty hand rubbing against the smudged top as he waits for her to do something.

“Are you…” she starts, trailing off for a moment before picking her thought back up, “…picking on someone?”

Steve clenches his fist tighter, note crinkling beyond repair beneath his nails as he mutters, “no.”

Chrissy’s quiet again. Steve doesn’t dare to look up, even as he hears the chair across from him pull out, the sound of her weight settling into the wood. The table’s just so interesting. Nothing has ever been as intriguing as the little chip out of its edge, the ring on the wood where someone had let their drink condensate against all the library’s rules.

“Who’s this for?” Chrissy’s voice is soft now, like he’s some sort of horse, prone to bolting when spooked. “Steve?”

Steve looks up. Her eyes aren’t sad anymore; they’re piercing.

He’s always liked Chrissy. She’s the nicest girl in the school, until someone does something she doesn’t like. Then, it’s all disappointed eyes, and pouty lips. It’s like disappointing his Mom, but worse, because his Mom’s never around to stare balefully at him.

The point is, Chrissy’s nice. She’s not like Carol. If he told her, there would be no lynch mob, or fleeing Hawkins in the dead of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. Probably. Maybe.

Steve tries to smooth out the page, and scowls down at it when the wrinkles refuse to disappear. It’s even worse now, words made illegible by the deep creases his fingers have pressed into the paper. There’s no way Eddie’d ever want a note like this.

So, he says, “Munson,” looking up to try to watch his meaning land on her face.

It doesn’t. Her foreheads all scrunched up as she looks down at the note. Only then does Steve realize he’s caressing the wonky little heart. He pulls his hand back, curling his fingers in so she can’t see the smudge of blue on his pointer finger.

“And you aren’t making fun of him?”

Steve can feel his shoulders drooping. He wants to disappear into the floor, melt into the carpet and become one with all the other mysterious stains upon it. “No.”

“Oh,” Chrissy replies, drawn out and low as she peers down at the crinkled note with a confused frown. But something must click because she straightens, eyes wide beneath her bangs. “Oh!”

It’s loud enough that they both reflexively flinch. But, when no librarians come skulking around any corners, Chrissy turns back to him, gaze uncomfortably intent. Steve wonders, somewhat horrified by the turn his life has taken, if he’s about to get hate-crimed by a cheerleader half his size.

But Chrissy’s nice—always has been, always will be. So, she bites her lip and looks furtively around like she’s only just realized this is a conversation that shouldn’t have any witnesses. “But you like him?” she whispers.

Steve leans forward, matching her energy and pitch as he replies, “yeah,” quiet enough that it’s barely a breath. Chrissy smiles at him, warm and small, just like her hand as she reaches across the table to put it over his and squeeze comfortingly.

The note sits, damningly soiled beneath their linked hands, wrinkled, and smudged, and barely-legible handwriting. The weight that’d lifted with Chrissy’s smile sinks back into his gut.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Steve says, letting go of her hand so he can pull the note closer to himself. “I’m no good at this stuff.”

Steve crinkles the note back up. It’s unsalvageable—a stupid idea executed badly.

He’s in the middle of stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans to keep his keys company until he can toss it out in the comfort of his home when Chrissy says, “maybe I can help?” voice lilting up, like it’s a question.

Steve meets her eyes, hand still half-shoved in his pocket. She’s all earnest now, the way she usually is when there isn’t a sad boy infecting her with his own ineptitude. Eyes shining with conviction, bangs curling sweetly around her face. She’s no Carol, that’s for sure.

“How?” he asks, and when she smiles, it looks a bit like hope.

***

 “I can help you write a better letter,” Chrissy starts. He perks up like a dog the moment its owner gets home. “If you do something for me.”

She feels like scum when he curls back into himself, gaze forlorn.

When she’d caught sight of the note he’d spent what seemed like a full hour pouring over, this isn’t what she’d been expecting. And when she’d finally made out his chicken scratch scrawl, she’d been sure Steve was picking on someone, no matter how unlike him it would have been. But then his shoulders had curled in, and his ears had turned red, and his voice had gone all soft and squishy when he’d said Eddie Munson’s name.

And she’d just wanted to fix it.

So, even as he asks, “what?” all sad and droopy again, she knows she’s going to help him, no matter what he says.

“Date me,” she asserts. It’s only as Steve blinks stupidly at her that she realizes how that came out of her mouth. “No, wait, not really!”

Her hands are waving around wildly and she can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. In contrast, Steve seems to come back into himself, shoulders shoring up as he smirks across at her with his signature raised brow. The one he’d used while leaning on Nancy Wheeler’s locker last year, or holding her books as they walked to class, and all the other assortment of stereotypical boyfriend activities.

He’d worn it all the time, like it was part of the uniform. 

“I just meant, we could fake it?” His right eyebrow raises to meet his left, forehead scrunching up with his incredulity. “It’s just, Jason and I broke up? And he won’t leave me alone.”

It takes all her strength to keep meeting his eyes as the seconds tick away. But then Steve nods, swings his letterman jacket off, and tosses it across at her. Unprepared for his sudden movement, it hits her in the face and drops into her lap.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he says with a cheesy wink that somehow manages to feel more genuine than any of his actual flirting techniques. “Gotta sell it somehow.”

“What a romantic,” she replies, deadpan, but she pulls his jacket on anyway, something that feels an awful lot like relief steadying her heart rate as she smooths down the too-long sleeves.

Jason’s going to freak out. But after that, maybe he’ll stop calling her house, and trying to put his arm around her at lunch, and trying to pick her up for school every morning. She’d do almost anything to get it into his thick skull that she’s not interested.

So, here she is, hashing out the details of a secret admirer letter from Steve Harrington to Eddie Munson, of all the unlikely pairings.

“What’s wrong with what I wrote?” Steve whines, running his fingers through his hair until it’s all mussed up and falling into his face.

Chrissy snorts. “It sounds like you’re telling him his hair is frizzy and dry.”

“I said it was pretty!” He throws his hands in the air before crossing them and pouting his lower lip out.

Chrissy can’t help but laugh. She’s always liked Steve. He’s nicer than most of his friends, and he’s easy to talk to. But this is a side she’s never seen of him. She’s not sure anyone has; can’t imagine Carol or Tommy seeing him put his whole heart into something and not tearing it to shreds.

“Do you use conditioner?” she asks, throwing finger quotations around it as she reads it off the crumpled page.

Steve’s blushing again, cheeks all blotchy and red, rather unbecoming for the shoo-in for this year’s prom king. “Well, I thought you said you’d help!” he says, a little too loud for the library.

So, that’s how she ends up spending the next hour painfully turning Steve’s earnest thoughts into words on the pretty baby blue paper she’d carefully removed from the back of her daily planner.

In the end, they’re left with this:

       Eddie –

       I wish I could say this to your face, but I’ve never been good with words, and you’d probably think it was a joke.

       I can’t even get myself to talk to you, you’re so distracting.

       I like how pretty your hair is. How do you get your curls so shiny? I want to run my fingers through them.

       I hope this note brightens up your day. You deserve all the smiles you can get.

       Yours,

       Your Secret Admirer

It’s not what she would write, but still, it’s leagues better than what he’d started with. She slides it across to Steve, and he smiles down at it. He reaches his hand out, fingers almost brushing the page before he pulls his hand back, curling his fingers into a fist.

“What if someone sees me?” he asks, voice so quiet she can barely hear him even in the resounding silence of the library.

They’d managed not to talk about it, the dangers of Steve liking a boy. But it’d been present in the hesitancy by which he shared each of his thoughts, looking up at her like each remark would be the last straw before she recoils in disgust.

If someone finds out that Steve has a crush on a boy, it won’t take long until he’s getting beat up between classes or heckled straight out of school. Heck, even with all the rumors floating around about him, Eddie might be the one to throw the first punch.

“Do you want me to deliver it for you?” she asks.

“You’d do that?” he asks back, because apparently no one ever taught him not to answer a question with a question. “For me?”

“What else are fake girlfriends for?” she asks because they’re all questions now, no answers to be had between the pair of them.

Steve laughs, all tension leaving his shoulders as he throws his head back with amusement, eyes downright twinkling as he beams across at her.

“You’re the best, Chrissy,” Steve says, smiling even brighter as she replies, “I know.”

She leaves school that night after pushing Steve Harrington’s love note through the slats of Eddie’s locker, Steve’s letterman jacket keeping her warm from the cold.

This might be the best relationship she’s ever had, fake or not. Eat your heart out, Jason Carver.

PART 2

Welcome to my new AU! This will be posted in 21 parts. It is complete, so there will be a new update each morning until it's all posted. I've elected not to do a tag list, but it will be added to my pinned post each day as well. If that's not your speed, it will be added to Ao3 once it's all been posted here.

Special shoutout to @queenie-ofthe-void for not only their usual fabulous beta work, but also both the original idea and the writing of some of the secret admirer letters. You not only make me a better writer, but this work literally would not exist without you. <3<3

Title of the fic from the song Eyes in the Sun by Florist

[quinns-art-box]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAEDE AKAMATSU!!! she is one of my favorite characters ever of all time but yall already knew that. here she is having a nice birthday with all her friends 💖 because i have postgame v3 diseases

i thought it would be funny if everyone accidentally got her the exact same thing (a sweater vest) and they're all varying degrees of embarrassed/amused but kaede is just so happy and she's gonna wear all of them

[happenssweet]

challengers x short n' sweet

・❥・taste | tashi duncan

・❥・please please please | patrick zweig

・❥・good graces | patrick zweig

・❥・sharpest tool | tashi duncan

・❥・coincidence | patrick zweig

・❥・bed chem | art donaldson

・❥・espresso | art donaldson

・❥・dumb & poetic | tashi duncan

・❥・slim pickins | patrick zweig

・❥・juno | art donaldson

・❥・lie to girls | tashi duncan

・❥・don't smile | art donaldson

notes:

HERE WE GO! so so so so so so so excited to have this be out for you guys. i hope you have as much fun using these as i did making them! thank you lovelies <333

slim pickins is a slight au, given art and tashi get together pretty much immediately after her injury, rather than years later

art donaldson breeding kink is a hc that has gone triple platinum in my mind. trust, if you let him make you juno, he is not passing up that chance

please. do not hesitate to ask for clarification on any scenarios/prompts. sometimes there is so much in my mind that i forget to condense it and write the actually important parts down LMFAO

have a req? drop it in my inbox or submit here!

[heynhay]

guys!!!! preorders for Cosmic Constant are OPEN until nov 10!!! get your canonverse klance fix from our uber talented artists and writers :]

[sollucets]

@userdramas event 15: something new

something old: ramking, who i've loved for a while something new: ayluna, who i love now something borrowed: layout inspiration and something (cyan) blue! 🩵💚

[strwbrryfire]

— Our Lady of Destiny

[lizardkingeliot]

Louis woke to the muffled sound of water. Alone in the coffin. Suspicious lack of Lestat’s heartbeat beside him. He let his eyes flutter open to the blackness and shoved at the lid until it opened.

OR

On the West Coast, Louis and Lestat find their home together.

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 75: onehat

[knifebaby3000]

young prince

[heretherebedork]

You know what the scene in the school where Jack left Joke to be surprised by his father cemented in me?

That the show is more interested in specific class commentary than in the commentary that the characters themselves offer about their situations.

Which is to say...

Joke's trauma is being underwritten and turned into something funny because Jack's trauma is the serious part of the show, because Jack's trauma from poverty overrules Jack's trauma from his struggles with school and with feeling like a constant scapegoat and unworthy of being loved.

Jack is allowed every trauma, he is allowed to say that he has never dreamed and that being poor means you don't dream even when he's the one who dreamed where Joke never had a thought of his own future in his mind but that wasn't important because he wasn't poor and he wasn't trapped in that way and so it doesn't matter as much ans his lack of dreams is never commented on.

Jack leaves Joke standing in front of a class full of children with a problem he can't solve and it's played as funny, as lighthearted, as if Joke on the verge of a panic attack is something that everyone should be laughing at because his trauma isn't treated as deep or serious. His father, who is the reason for most of this trauma, is sent in to rescue him and then they resolve their relationship. And... that's that! He's invited home. It's over. None of that trauma matters anymore and it was all meant to be funny, to be a joke, to be something Jack did for him... you know, humiliate him because he's bad at school. Funny.

The show is more interested in making class commentary than it is on character commentary and that's why I'm worried that Jack won't be the one to go after Joke but that Joke will have to come back again, that Joke will have to fight for them again, that it will always be Joke fighting because the show doesn't care about Joke's trauma except to solve it as quickly and unimportantly as possible so they can focus on Jack and his neighborhood.

And I'm not saying Jack doesn't have trauma or that commenting about that is wrong or that class commentary is wrong but what I am saying is that Moonlight Chicken did it better and deeper and faced down the fact that trauma happens no matter how much money you have and that trauma might be different depending on class but it's all still trauma all the way down.

Jack has his trauma but so does Joke but the show doesn't care about Joke's trauma because they want to make a commentary on classism and class issues and that means that Joke's issues can never be as bad or as important as Jack's because he's not part of the commentary or at least he wasn't. Now he is and so his new trauma is allowed but the old things? They have to just... stop.

I am struggling with this a lot so I'm making this post to get words and thoughts out. This doesn't mean I hate the show or the characters or the creators or even that I'm not enjoying it! This is just a specific aspect of the show itself and an ongoing issue in Thai B: that has frustrated me for a while tbh because it's so often that they can only honor the trauma of one of the characters in a relationship so the other gets brushed aside (see also: Mhok of Last Twilight).

I also really think that if the show had been more invested in the specific struggles of the characters we could have gotten even more painful social commentary about Rose's trying to help that never does and Jack's struggles with failed dreams and Hoy and Tattoo being trapped where they are and Aran arriving and just so much that would have been just as interesting as The One Ring of Crime.

[sam-loves-seb]

i'm not the way i was -- chapter 1

“Why the hell are you here, Ian?” Mickey’s tone is defeated, and his shoulders barely hold their shape. He’s tired. Exhausted, really. Ian can see that in every line of his body, every curve of his face. There’s so much that Ian wants to say to him, so much he wants to scream across this phone line connecting them, but he can’t. His head is a mess, in more ways than one, and no matter how fast he tries to parse through his tidal wave of emotions, he can’t figure them out. He broke up with Mickey. Right? Only now, he can’t really remember why. “I don’t know,” Ian says honestly, and hopes it’s enough. (It’s not.)

// s6 rewrite: what could have happened if mickey didn’t go to prison

read the rest on ao3

@shamelessbigbang @whaticameherefor

[trebuchet151]

This is jumping the queue bc some really cool people reblogged my last post of Corey and they escaped containment.

Updated sidestep design perpetual WIP

Sidestep days vs retribution. They're slowly reacquiring their self expression. Next book will probably be the full return of the scene/punk look

Bonus Corey sans most of their clothing to show off their tattoos under the cut. CW for healed SH scars

Yes that is Ortega's bedroom yes I half assed it. I drew this background in my car at work when it was like 110 degrees idgaf

[plspush]

Caleb loves everything Halloween, that much is very well known. A lesser known fact is that he has a deep fondness for Christmas. Maybe it's the obvious connection between the two holidays, or maybe it's because most of his wardrobe is cozy and/or winter coded. It's mid November and the wind has begun whipping icily through the primarily bare trees, the sun departs at 5pm, and Caleb's due in just a few short weeks. He knows there's no way he's making it to Christmas with his bun still in the oven. He already feels heavy and sore - practice contractions have been making unwelcome appearances the last couple of days. He knows he has to get all of his December activities out of the way now. He can't go get festive cocktails with Aiden and their friends - he'd feel so bummed to just sit at the bar, uncomfy and so, so pregnant, no fun bevvy in hand - so he and the crew are instead opting to hit up the holiday markets, which luckily opened up at the start start of the month. Jax has taken to protecting the precious bump from the crowds, Maiya has been scoping out all the cute holiday baby merch, and Aiden has been tasked with finding Caleb a hot chocolate that can give him the same vibe as the strong, black, caffeinated hot coffee he's been craving his whole pregnancy. A pretty tall order he isn't sure he can fill. Caleb has been taking in his last few moments with this big round belly, and the last days of the group headcount being four. He smells gingerbread and coffee and hot apple cider, he hears his friends’ laughter among the sleigh bells, and he feels completely full and content for maybe the first time ever. His found family is just so close to becoming a full-fledged family. Maybe pulling through his rough start at life was worth it after all. He’s scared; he had never anticipated becoming a parent, much less giving birth himself. The way his people came through for him though, supported him, made him feel capable. The fact that he has three people willing to do all the Christmas stuff a month early and drag his sore, round, pregnant self around while trying to make everything nice for him and everything go his way… It’s just more than he could have asked for. He’s feeling a solid future ahead of him, when just a few years ago he believed he’d be better off not in this world. He feels community. He /found/ a non-caffeinated, strong hot chocolate that gives him coffee vibes, and it even has sprinkles. He’s okay.