#we still have a kick section to go through oh shit oh fuck

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Can’t wait to be sore for like all of spring break somehow even though it’s like two weeks after tryouts my body will still manage to do it

[ioniansunsets]

i loved your heartsteel!kayn scenarios! can you possibly do a scenario of fem!reader helping heartsteel!kayn dye his hair :3

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Getting His Hair Dyed by Reader ✖

✖ Word Count: 900

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: He has his default skin braid here. Stay tuned for more. I MISS THIS FUCKER'S BRAID OK. Also you are his long term partner! I thought it would be cute if you have been supporting him though all his ups and downs uwu

----

" For reals, you've done this before right. Don't fuck it up I swear to god I will cry I'm dealing with enough shit right now babe." " You're the one that asked me to do this for you, have some trust in me."

You comb through his braid and neatly section if off one last time before slapping on the DIY at home bleach. After getting kicked out of his old band Kayn wanted a full makeover, so with five boxes of bleach and some whining he convinced you to help him bleach and dye his hair. You stood awkwardly behind him as you comb in the bleach. Kayn wasn't wearing a shirt, so that he wouldn't ruin any tees. So it was quite a sight, hair down, topless, you pause for a bit and stare. After some thinking you sigh, you were going to miss his blue and black hair...it was so soft too...

" Hey I heard that sigh! You know I HAVE to do this...I want to change my image, show them I'm better without them!"

Kayn pouts, you see it in the mirror and laugh. Slapping on more bleach, sectioning it out and complaining once again bout how the long hair sticks to the gloves and makes it all messy. But ok, you work hard, with a roll of aluminum foil ready you neatly bleach his long hair. As you wait for the first bleaching to set in you throw a little of the leftovers on your hair too, just enough for one strip.

" Should we match colors?"

You see Kayn visibly perk up as he hears your suggestion.

" Really? I think that will be cute. Like a cringey couple."

He smirks, leaning back to take a good look at you in the toilet mirror. He starts laughing loudly.

" Wait are you copying me or making fun of me! Why bleach that same chunk of hair as the old me!"

The two of you chat for a bit as you wait for the bleach to set in, when times up you help him wash it all off in the tub. Damn his hair was really such a dark black, it was just brown now. You comment about it needed a few more rounds of bleach. Kayn sighs this time instead, exhausted already but his rockstar image was at stake, he wanted to look cool so he had to do this. He had a goal already, an ombre fade of pink and purple, it would be so cool. Sitting back down, you blow dry his hair and start on round two.

And round three. Orange.

And four. Yellow.

And five before the yellow finally lifts enough! You were finally free from seeing that yellow, orange hue! And-

Oh no. You look at a handful of hair in your hands from where you combed through his hair.

" Kayn I am so sorry..." " No! I cannot deal with this right now please. Y/N Tell me its fine." " I'll fix it!"

You too were unsure how to react, were you going to cry or laugh. After five bleaches, his hair kinda...fried off. Ah...you were REALLY going to miss his long hair. Promising to fix it, you grab some hair scissors and did your best. With Kayn doing everything to hold himself together while you save what you can and work out a messy cut. It actually looked really good. You tell him to look up as you blow dry his hair yet again. Promising it wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. Kayn tentatively pulls his hands away from his face as he looks at himself in the mirror. A smile slowly creeping across his face.

" Oh shit you really did fix it? The hell Y/N! Let's dye it right now! I still want that pink purple thing going down!"

He tilts his head left and right, trying to get a better look at it, an idol worthy style. Kayn nods, happy with what you've done with it. Quickly you work the colors onto his hair and yours. Laughing together as he admires himself in the mirror. Half an hour passes and you wash his hair and dry it off for the last time. Kayn himself also helping to wash the and dry your hair. You smile as the two of you admire your reflections.

" Is it me or are we looking super hot?"

He snakes and arm around your waist, pulling you close. Giving your cheek a quick kiss.

" I actually like this a lot I'm glad it worked out. Thank you Y/N."

Kayn gives you a warm smile as he runs his hands through his hair, giving it a little shake as it falls gracefully along his jawline. He turns his attention back to the mirror before he shouts.

" Oh shit yeah! Let me snap a photo!"

Kayn leaves the room for a bit, grabbing his phone and a nice shirt to snap a photo in. He returns, hand draped around your shoulder as he takes a mirror selfie with you both. The largest smile plastered on his face as he sits down and edits it to use as his new wallpaper. You would mourn his pretty braid but...he was still your charming boyfriend you could live with the new style. The short hair was starting to grow on your after all.

[loveinhawkins]

I never know what to put for these made-up fanfic titles, but! how's "boy that's never been" sound? (or girl, which is the original line, or child, which has its own flavor)

oh boy that’s never been is perfect. Congratulations/commiserations, you’ve let me unleash probably the most tragic thing I’ve ever thought of.

warning: the first section of this will have a major character death. it’ll then be followed up by an alternative take where the character is initially believed to be dead but survives, so feel free to read both or one or neither. ❤️

-

It starts with laughter, with Dustin and Eddie jumping up and down, clinging to each other, riding the high of the most metal concert in the history of the world.

Eddie drapes the guitar pick around Dustin’s neck, like giving a medal to an Olympian. “Souvenir,” he says, grinning, and Dustin’s about to speak, to probably just reiterate just how fucking cool Eddie’s playing was, but then they hear the bats come through the vents, and the words fly out of his head.

They barricade the door, and Eddie is screaming at him to, “—go! Let’s go!”, and Dustin starts to hurry up the rope. He can hear the distant crackle of his walkie, Lucas’s voice shaking with relief, “It worked, it worked, he’s out of her head.”

Dustin looks back instinctively, because by all rights, Eddie should be right behind him.

But he isn’t. He’s just standing there, watching Dustin climb, and he’s got this look on his face, and Dustin suddenly thinks oh, don’t you fucking dare.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eddie says, just as Dustin’s about to ask the very same thing. “Go!”

“Not without you.”

Eddie shakes his head. And then his eyes widen; he looks up, somewhere beyond, and Dustin doesn’t know what it is that he’s seen, but his face goes white. 

“Dustin, hurry!”

The world trembles; Dustin loses his grip on the rope, hears Eddie say, “Shit!” right before he falls, ankle giving way beneath him, and he lands flat on his back, aching and winded—

He opens his eyes. The Gate on the ceiling has knit itself shut.

“Oh, Christ, oh, Christ,” Eddie’s whispering, over and over, and he’s pulling Dustin up, “are you—”

Dustin whacks him on the shoulder. “What the fuck was that? You’re not getting left behind, asshole.”

And while he’s still so angry, Eddie must hear how his voice shakes with fear, teetering into anticipatory grief.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The swarm of bats are still scratching at the door; the wood’s splintering.

“We’ve gotta get out of…” Eddie trails off, eyes darting in thought. He glances down at Dustin’s foot. “Fuck, you can’t run.”

A chorus of demonic screeching, far too close.

“Okay, c’mon, I’ve got you,” Eddie says, and he’s bearing Dustin’s weight, half-carrying him outside. Dustin hears him curse as he slams his shield against the few bats that still remain, scaling the wired fence. He makes short work of them.

He leaves Dustin on the porch, runs for the bike.

As Dustin waits, he feels a new sharp pain in his ankle—looking down, he sees one of the bats that Eddie thought he’d killed, still weakly crawling on the ground, teeth sunk deep into his skin.

He kicks, stomps on it until it lets go. There’s a trail of blood seeping down from the skin around the fibula, and he’s a little light-headed, but he thinks that’s mostly because he’s looking at it, so he simply doesn’t anymore.

Eddie comes into view, pushing the bike with a frenzied energy. He’s muttering under his breath, “Where do we go, where do we go?”

Maybe it’s down to Eddie being so panicked—suddenly Dustin has no trouble at all focusing on a solution.

“I think it worked,” he says calmly. “They’ve killed him. That’s why…”

Eddie nods, face still so pale. “Are you saying we’re stuck down—god, there’s gotta be something we can—”

“Yeah, it’s sealing up,” Dustin says hurriedly, “but I—maybe not all at once. Maybe it’s in the order of the—”

“So. Chrissy,” Eddie says shakily, “then Fred, th-then Patrick.”

“We’ve gotta go to Lover’s Lake.”

Eddie breathes out, “God, you fucking genius.”

He sits forward on the seat of the bike, so Dustin’s got enough room to sit behind him. Dustin grips onto his jacket, presses the side of his face against his back.

“Hold on tight, Henderson,” Eddie yells, and then he’s off, pedalling for their lives.

Dustin can only pray that Nancy, Steve and Robin have come to the same conclusion—his heart leaps when he sees them running across the rocky bed, to the still open Gate.

They all dive through it as quickly as they can. The only pause comes when Dustin insists Eddie go in front of him, and Eddie looks ready to fight him on it; “No time,” Steve interjects, and he gives Eddie that same kind of nod he’d given before he left the trailer park. “I’ve got him.”

“Deep breath,” Steve instructs, voice deliberately even. “Good, that’s it.” He grabs onto Dustin’s hand. “I won’t let go.”

It’s a vow; Dustin knows it.

The two of them make up the rear. Swimming through the depths of the lake is hardly scary at all, not when Dustin can see Robin and Nancy break through the surface, Eddie right behind them.

Steve’s trying to make him go in front; he can tell from the way Steve’s urging him along—but his strong kicks mean he’s always slightly ahead, no matter how hard he tries.

Dustin’s still bleeding. He can feel it. He’s kind of glad that it’s dark, honestly; he doesn’t know what Steve would do if he could see it.

They emerge up above, gasping, and they’re almost at the boat, almost home, when Dustin feels the vine wrap around his ankle.

The first tug doesn’t pull him under. But Steve’s still holding his hand, so when it happens, he feels it, too.

His head turns in alarm, and his expression is scarily similar to Eddie’s as he watched Dustin climb up the rope; and Dustin knows that Steve will never let go, not even if it kills him.

So he does.

He wrenches out of Steve’s grip. He doesn’t have time to say I’m sorry, I love you, before he’s being dragged down, and just as he’s submerged, he hears Eddie scream his name.

He tries. But he keeps sinking no matter how hard he kicks, and then, even though it’s completely illogical, even though he knows it will kill him, he simply has to breathe in.

He swallows water. It burns.

And then the burning goes away, and it doesn’t hurt at all; he just feels so, so sleepy.

The faintest impression of arms around him. And even though it doesn’t make sense, it shouldn’t be possible, he still feels a final comforting warmth at the touch.

It’s Steve, Dustin thinks for the last time. He’s got me.

-

Steve emerges with Dustin in his arms. He barely registers the screams from the boat, just yells, “Someone grab him,” and lifts him onboard.

Robin gets Dustin by the legs, and Nancy gently lowers his head. As Steve climbs aboard too, he knows he cannot even look in Eddie’s direction for fear of the expression he’ll see on his face.

“Nance, count for me,” he says.

He starts chest compressions. She counts.

Two breaths.

Compressions.

Two breaths.

“C’mon, bud,” he says, “you’ve gotta breathe, you’ve gotta cough it all up, you hear me, Dustin? Come on.”

He keeps going. He keeps going even when Nancy finally stops counting.

“Come on,” he says. His voice breaks. “Come on, kid, come on.”

“Steve,” Robin whispers.

“Don’t,” he says, because there’s something in the shattered way she says it that snaps him out of it—that makes him see Dustin, so small and so still, and his hair is so wet, and he’d usually be so pissy about that, but he’s not, he’s not saying anything.

It’s Eddie who stops him. A shaking hand on his forearm.

“Steve,” Eddie says. He’s crying. “You can—you can stop now. He’s gone. He’s gone.”

“No,” Steve says flatly.

“He’s dead,” Eddie says. His fingers dig into Steve’s skin; he chokes on his words. On a sob. “God. He’s dead, sweetheart.”

A grief-stricken keen. Later, Steve realises that it comes from him: his mouth, his throat, his heart. He pulls Dustin close, in a desperate hug that can’t be returned, as if he could somehow shield him from a fate that’s already been given.

…

Or, in a world that’s perhaps a little bit kinder:

Steve is just a fraction quicker, keeps his grip on Dustin’s hand so they’re both yanked down, down…

Steve tries his hardest; he strains and pulls as they reach the Gate, and his last sight of Dustin is his wide, fearful eyes before he slips out of his grasp. He surges forward instantly, reaches for him, but then, like a sudden tidal wave, is pushed back, back—

The Gate’s closed. Gone.

Steve frantically searches the bed of the lake, cuts his hands on perfectly ordinary rocks until his lungs burn, and he has no choice but to kick for the surface.

Eddie’s in the water too; Steve almost hits his head on his dangling feet as he comes up for air.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie shouts. He treads water erratically, and for barely a second, he goes absolutely still. “Oh my god. Oh my god, where is he?”

“The Gate—” Steve says, and then can’t go on.

Eddie’s lips tremble, move soundlessly. “This can’t be—this isn’t happening,” he whispers. He dives under not a second later.

For a wild moment, Steve almost follows him, even though he still can’t catch his breath. Nancy pulls him onto the boat before he can try.

Eddie resurfaces, barely draws breath before speaking. “So, what’s the plan? How are we gonna—”

“Eddie,” Robin says, reaching for him. “Get out of the water.”

He acts like he can’t hear her.

“Am I not fucking speaking English or s-something? Tell me what we’re—”

“It’s over, Eddie,” Nancy says quietly. “Vecna’s dead. The Gates are closed. We… we won.”

Eddie’s shaking his head. “No, no, this isn’t—just tell me what to do! I’ll do anything, I’ll—”

“What am I gonna tell his mom?” Steve says helplessly.

He doesn’t mean to say it. But Eddie definitely hears it, because his mouth twists in grief; Robin’s finally able to pull him up onto the boat. He rests his forehead against her arm and shudders.

Nancy waits for a long while before she starts to row them back, like she’s waiting on a miracle. But the water remains eerily still.

When the boat starts to move towards the shore, the awful reality of it all finally seems to sink in for Eddie. He moves out of Robin’s arms and his hand finds Steve’s knee, squeezes tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “S-Steve, I’m so fucking sorry, I should’ve—”

“Stop it,” Steve says. “You—you got him through—I was supposed to—”

I trusted you, and I was right; you brought him back to me.

“I let go,” Steve says through a wave of self-hatred. “I—I had him, and I let go.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t deserve to hear the disagreement in his voice; there is nothing Eddie could say to ease this all-consuming guilt.

“I should’ve—he was my—”

Steve’s voice fails him, which is just as well. He doesn’t know how to finish that thought without it destroying him.

“I’m coming with you,” Nancy says, when they’re on dry land.

“What?” Steve says, exhausted.

“His—his mom. You’re not doing it alone.”

-

They might’ve won, but that doesn’t mean the town remained unscathed as each Gate shut. Violent tremors were felt all over; there’s a shortage of beds in the hospital, and there’s yet more people missing.

It helps Claudia accept it, at least. She’s not the only parent waiting in vain for a body to be recovered.

Nancy keeps her word, leading the explanation, but Steve forces himself to speak at the end, underlines that her son cannot come home—because he had seen how hope had destroyed the Hollands.

She nods silently.

You should hate me, Steve thinks. Hate me.

But the only emotion in her eyes is love—love and pain.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I wasn’t quick enough.”

“No,” Eddie says suddenly.

He’s kept quiet up until now, hovering in a corner. Steve had tried to tell him that he didn’t have to come, that it could be dangerous for him to be seen. But even before Nancy started talking, Claudia had never once threatened to call the police.

“It was my fault,” Eddie continues. “I—”

“That’s not true,” Steve says. “Claudia, don’t listen to him, he’s—”

But Claudia is just staring at Eddie.

“You didn’t kill that poor girl,” she says.

“No,” he says, voice hoarse. “No, ma’am.”

“Dustin.” Claudia takes a deep breath. “He was protecting you.”

Eddie’s face crumples. “Yes.”

Claudia smiles sadly. Steve doesn’t know how she’s doing it, how she’s still standing—the strength it must take, for her not to scream.

“You must’ve been worth it,” she tells Eddie.

He has to leave the room, a hand covering his face.

-

There isn’t a funeral.

Claudia insists on putting up missing posters, even though it’s clear from the dullness in her eyes that she understood perfectly well what Nancy meant when she said, we lost him.

“I know it’s—” Claudia breaks off as Steve helps her make more copies. “I just—I just thought. Joyce, she…”

Steve puts up the posters around town. He can’t stand the thought of bystanders pitying the hope of a grieving mother. Not again.

-

Claudia calls, tells him to come over to the house. She says she’s got some of Dustin’s things in a box, not a lot, but just in case—just in case…

“He’d want you to have them,” she says.

Steve has to stand with the phone in his hand long after she’s hung up, breathing heavily. Then he does the round of calls. Nancy, Robin, Eddie.

He needs someone there, he knows it, otherwise he’ll never go back in the house.

He can’t face the kids. Can’t face the fact that he’s failed them.

“I—I can’t, man,” Eddie tells him over the phone, voice brittle. “I can’t go back there. I’m sorry.”

Steve doesn’t blame him.

-

Nancy gets the hint and accompanies Steve as they head into Dustin’s bedroom. Steve tries not to look at the bed, the pillows still rumpled from when Dustin last—

He picks up the small cardboard box left on the floor. He scans the top of it. It’s small things. A book on Morse Code. An almost empty can of Farrah Fawcett spray.

Nancy’s hand’s on his back, not doing anything, just resting there. She reaches into the box and picks up the can.

“You did his hair, right? For the Snow Ball?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

She’s smiling. “He looked so—so sweet.” She blinks rapidly, still smiling. Eyes growing wet. “I don’t know if—if he mentioned it, but. I danced with—”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve laughs, and it gets close to dangerous, to the grief spilling out, before he pulls it back at the last second. “Mentioned it? When I picked him up, it’s all he talked about. Nance, you made him feel like the coolest kid in school.”

-

Robin sits in the passenger seat, puts the box in between her knees so the things aren’t rattling about while Steve drives.

And she laughs too, except it fades off into a sob. “I forgot.”

He puts a hand out, and she takes it. “What?”

“He’d taken my library card,” she says. “So he could, um, check—” She clears her throat. “Check out more books.”

Steve’s knuckles turn white as he holds onto her. She never complains.

-

Eddie… drifts.

In some sense, Spring Break feels like a bad dream. The trailer’s back to normal, no gaping hole to another dimension in the ceiling, and the police tape gets removed so quickly that it’s almost laughable. He doesn’t care that the suspicion around him has dropped in the wake of a ‘natural disaster.’

He doesn’t really care about anything.

He keeps in touch just enough to know that Claudia is staying with her sister for a little while, left Steve the keys for watering the houseplants, probably.

And then Steve calls him from the Henderson’s house phone.

“I’m—I’m sorry, no—no-one else was picking up,” he says. “It’s—it’s his cat, I can’t—”

“Missing?” Eddie assumes, because Steve sounds one breath away from a panic attack. “Hurt?”

“No, no, just—please, can you come? Please.”

So Eddie does.

He hates every moment of the drive, but he does it.

He finds Steve in the bedroom, and fuck, it still looks so lived-in, like Dustin’s just stepped out for a moment, the room filled with nerdy teen clutter. Eddie’s sure that if he looked closely, he’d find notes from old campaigns littering the desk, but there’s no way he can remotely handle that, so he doesn’t.

There’s currently a more pressing sight, anyway.

Because Steve’s standing by Dustin’s bed, and he’s not looking at Eddie, because there’s a little Siamese cat blinking up at him.

“He’s gone,” Steve is saying.

The cat mews plaintively.

“He’s gone, okay?” Steve’s words get harsher. “What do you want me to—? He’s gone.”

Eddie steps forward, scoops up the cat—doesn’t flinch when its claws dig into him. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

He goes to shut the door behind him, but not quick enough.

Steve’s not once cried throughout all of this—not anywhere that Eddie could see, at least.

He’s crying now. Silent, trembling—sinking down to the bed, a fist clenched around the sheets.

Eddie closes the door.

He gently lets the cat go when he’s in the kitchen, finds a can of wet food soon enough, in a cupboard underneath the sink.

That’s where he finds the notepad, too.

And too late, he realises it’s Dustin’s handwriting, that this was a log he’d made of each time he’d fed his cat, making sure to not repeat the same food twice in a row. ‘TUNA’ he’d scrawled in an obvious rush, like he was heading off somewhere, and then Eddie sees the date.

March 22nd.

He doesn’t know that he’s crying until Steve comes up behind him, puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Eddie gasps, “sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…”

Because this isn’t about him. Shouldn’t be about him.

Steve pulls him close.

I’m sorry, Eddie thinks. He was yours. I’m sorry.

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

It sounds like, You loved him, too. It’s okay.

-

Steve spends the night at the trailer.

It’s late when Eddie wakes up to an empty side of the bed. He gets up, walks slowly, slowly until he can just barely squint into the living room.

Steve doesn’t notice him. He’s standing on a chair, arm outstretched. Fingertips brushing the ceiling.

“Are you there?” he murmurs.

Eddie’s heart sinks like a stone.

Steve waits in the silence. His hand shakes.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m here.”

-

They both know what it means—the nights together, sleeping so closely, skin to skin.

One of them will find the other lying awake, and a chaste kiss will be pressed against a shoulder, shh, shh. They don’t talk about it, don’t initiate anything more.

Their world is too heavy for it.

Steve wants to tell Dustin anyway. Wants him to give them both so much shit for it, let his goddamn horrendous ego run wild.

Tell me again, Eddie whispers at two in the morning.

Steve breathes in, out. Starts the story with a ridiculous kid tugging red roses out of his hand.

-

“Come over,” Steve says. It’s nine o’clock at night. His voice is jagged. “My place.”

Eddie finds him just standing in the hall.

“Nancy called,” he says, too matter-of-fact. “‘Bout an hour ago, Holly’s Lite-Brite lit up, almost burned her. The power went off.”

Eddie tries to temper his voice, but when he says, “Steve,” he almost cringes at the pity in it.

“Don’t,” Steve says. “I know. I know. But.” He jerks his head upstairs. “I need you. I need you to—to tell me what I’m looking at.”

The bedside lamp is on in Steve’s room. There’s a book on translating Morse Code left open on the floor.

The light is blinking.

Steve searches Eddie’s face desperately. “That’s the—that’s what you did, right? SOS?”

Eddie picks up the book. Sits on the bed, knees weak.

“Yes,” he says.

Steve closes his eyes, exhales in a shudder. “Oh my god, you can see it. Okay, okay.”

He opens his eyes, and it looks like he’s fighting with himself, caught between wanting to say more and destroying the fragile hope he has.

So Eddie says it for him.

“Dustin?”

YES.

After Eddie translates, Steve stares at the lamp. His hand reaches out. Fingers curl around thin air.

“How do we know?” he asks. “How do we know it’s—”

DUMBASS.

Steve starts to laugh. A tear falls down his cheek.

“I can hear him,” he says. “Jesus Christ, I can hear him.”

And then Eddie can, too—so, so faintly. The tiniest giggle.

He sounds exhausted.

WATERGATE. TEAR. NOT STRONG ENOUGH.

“The—the tear?” Eddie says.

ME.

“We’re coming,” Steve says. His fingertips graze the lightbulb. “We’re coming, Dustin.”

HURRY.

-

They don’t tell anyone. Steve puts his phone off the hook before they leave, because Nancy is bound to call repeatedly.

They get into the boat and push off into Lover’s Lake without a word. It’s an unspoken agreement: they’ll get him back or die trying.

They dive together. Search the river bed, stones slipping through their fingers until…

A smooth ridge of plastic. Eddie’s guitar pick.

They pull.

The gap is small, but they make it—and when they emerge into The Upside Down, there’s no particles floating around, but the air is thin.

The landscape is disappearing. Dying.

Just next to the Gate lies Dustin. His hand is outstretched, like he’d fallen while reaching towards home.

“He’s not breathing,” Eddie says, hushed and terrified.

“Tilt his head back,” Steve says, already on his knees. They don’t have time to panic. “Lift his chin.”

“Okay, okay.”

“You’re gonna do the breaths, okay? One second, then—”

“I know, I know what to—”

“You got him?”

“Y-yeah.”

Steve starts compressions. Shouts, “Now!” to Eddie when it’s time.

One second. Pause. One second.

Repeat.

“Come on, Dustin, you’ve gotta breathe,” Eddie pleads through Steve’s counting. “We’re here, we’re here, you’ve gotta—”

Steve slams on his chest. Once.

“—breathe, we love you so fucking much, just—”

Twice.

“—breathe!”

Dustin launches upwards, into Steve’s arms, coughing, coughing.

Breathing.

“That’s it,” Eddie sobs, “oh my God, that’s it.”

-

They leave when Dustin communicates through shaky hand gestures that he can hold his breath. It’s far from ideal—Steve doesn’t like it at all, but there’s no way they can linger; the hole they’d made to break through the Gate is already threatening to close.

Besides, with both him and Eddie pulling Dustin up, it’s the quickest swim of their lives.

The Gate shuts behind them, as if it had never been.

-

Up to the surface. Clinging to Dustin, hearing him gasp, splutter.

“You with me? Hey, hey, you with me?”

Dustin nods; Steve pulls him on board, Eddie right behind in case he falls.

Silence. Breathing. Dustin up against his chest, shaking.

Eddie mutters, “Here, here,” passing over the towels that they’d brought with what had felt like foolish optimism.

“You—you d-didn’t bring a ch-change of clothes?” Dustin says, with biting, wonderful sarcasm. His teeth chatter, and Eddie wraps him in another towel. “D-do I do all the th-thinking around here?”

Steve’s answering laugh turns into weeping—he runs a towel over Dustin’s hair, sobs through a smile when Dustin whines out a petulant complaint.

“I’ve got you,” Steve says. He kisses his forehead. “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” Dustin says. He shuffles closer, cuddles further into Steve’s chest even though they’re all soaking wet. “Knew… knew you’d come.” His hand reaches to the side, fumbling for Eddie. “Sorry. Think I broke your… your pick.”

Eddie just shakes his head, tearful, a hand covering his mouth.

“Yeah,” Steve says, “I really don’t think he cares, bud.”

“My mom’s gonna freak,” Dustin mumbles. His head is nodding tiredly as he says it.

“Yeah,” Steve echoes. He swallows. “She—she will.”

Eddie picks up the oar. Dustin sighs, lax with sleep. Steve can feel him breathing.

And he’ll have changed in some ways—they all have, it’s inevitable. It would be naive to think otherwise.

But the glimmer of him is still there, in his voice.

He’s back.

Steve holds Dustin tight—keeps him as warm as he can as Eddie rows, taking them home, home, home.

[eldritch-spouse]

lmao Vesper 😭😭😭

Ok wait for me I have new genius idea for crackass scapegoat!AU

Reader is the poor employee with a curse of being a magnet for Icons. They're trying their best, applying for the jobs in the most "human" spaces – but it's useless to try, it's only matter of time when they're meeting face to face with something very huge and demonic. They're not even trying, really. They're not even at some high position. They're just too unlucky to being the one who listens to all complaints and death threats... yet still very lucky to somehow remain alive after that.

After being kicked out from the theatre, their first honest job, they're totally broke. Underground casino? Yeah, yeah, shady. Sign them up!

Work is actually not so bad until some strange green giant scolds the shit out of them for "playing cheap" and almost brings them to that hot shithole– good thing he got distracted and the only thing poor employee lost are all their money and a job.

Damn, here we go again- Nothing could be wrong with working in a popular restaurant, yeah? Everyone gone through it-

Oh, how lucky they're to stay alive after that day when enormous snake woman decided to visit their modest establishment of a workplace. Their coworker, fellow waiter, is not so lucky tho. Poor Kenny.

With a generous amount of trauma, our scapegoat is escaping to something- something completely different, you know? They got a jackpot! Luck is TOTALLY on their side after all this suffering, how else you can explain that they got a job in that prestigious boutique?

... Well, let's say, they haven't break in tears only because of their lack of dignity at this point. That guy was marvelous, but he almost crashed them into the pulp with all his requirements- they're not even a designer, really....

Okay, maybe, they need to take a rest. Big rest. Take their stress out somewhere. Ikea, furniture store, bed section. Peace and love.

How it's even possible to be fired from a chill place like this? Oh, that's easy. Some buff dude built like a mountain just sorta appeared and fell asleep at the one of the biggest beds- and for some reason they fell asleep on their workplace while it happened. When they woke up tho, here was no one but a broken bed and complain in the customer's book.

That's it. That's a last nerve they had. They're escaping to the amusement park, to be the clown they are and being paid for it, as they deserve.

Only to be mocked by a guy with a fucking macaroni limbs. No, here was other people too, but he brought the greatest display of mockery and dishonour ever possible. Even their destroyed dignity somehow reanimated just to get beat down again.

...

Kalymir has zero idea why he woke up with a strong desire to go on the fucking "DOTA tournament" and tf it even means, but he already hyped up and ready to crush in-

After having to gamble at the same table as the Lord of Greed and nearly losing ownership of your soul.

After working at a restaurant good enough that the Queen of Gluttony unintentionally erotically fellated your entire body and made you feel like a twinkie.

After getting your department in IKEA utterly destroyed by the King of Sloth's insistence that he nap specifically in your section.

After having the King of Pride rip into you so viciously that you only wished you had been swallowed.

After having the King of Envy out-clown you.

And now, seeing what you can only guess is the King of Wrath well on his way to likely turn you into a stain on the wall...

You think of what could have been. Before this chain of horrid luck took over your life. In that one first job where you had to confront Vesper about his tendency for "group affections"-

Maybe you really should have just taken the deal and sucked him off.

[littlealeta]

Ralph Breaks the Internet Review/Rant

When I first watched this film in 2018, I thought it was fairly decent. I was glad to finally see Wreck it Ralph again after 6 years. But even then, I still found it a disappointment from the first one. I hated how they did Ralph and Vanellope and I hated that Felix and Calhoun were barely in the film. Over the years, after reflecting more on this film, I realized that I might've been a bit too nice to it. So, I rewatched it again. And... yeah, it's pretty mediocre. It's still a fun time, especially for kids, but I wouldn't recommend it if you don't want it to ruin your love for the first one. I couldn't even watch the first one for years after watching this trainwreck.

This is going to be longer than some of my previous reviews because I have a LOT to say about this film, including spoilers. But you can always scroll down to the overall section if you want to see a concise version of this review.

Story

The film starts off nice. Ralph and Vanellope just hanging out in other games and talking. But, by the time the conflict comes around, the story becomes ass. Ralph and Vanellope break Sugar Rush by fucking around with a new race track Ralph created. They go through the Internet on a rollercoaster ride (using teleportation would make more sense). Then, they end up accidentally bidding 27,000 dollars for a new part at Ebay. So, now they have to gather up 27,000 dollars in 24 hours before the part expires when they could just wait for the item to expire and then re-bid. (Seriously, this whole movie wouldn't have happened if Ralph and Vanellope hadn't been idiots).

It doesn't matter, though, because Ralph somehow gets instant internet fame by making cringy youtube (called buzztube when youtube exists in that world for some reason) jokes and being a real life person somehow (that no one questions), ok. Why do we need a movie about the Internet with two characters from a movie about video games?

There are some cool concepts with the Internet, like the little avatars walking all over the place, the spamming, and Miranda Sings getting her ass kicked off by Ralph breaking her Internet. But then, there are also a lot of unnecessary Internet references. We see Google, Amazon, Twitter (with all the birds retweeting one post, like you could've had other posts instead of just retweets), Snapchat (which is an app), and Oh My Disney, which is just 5 unnecessary minutes of Disney kissing their own ass.

I will, however, say that the parody with the Disney princesses, the I Want songs, and how Vanellope interacts with the princesses (an atypical Disney princess, so you can imagine how well they bounce off of each other) is funny. The only problem is, they're just wrapped up in this terrible story. Like, if they kept the video game concept and they had something like Disney Infinity being one of the more wholesome games Ralph would send Vanellope to and then they meet the Disney princesses in there, that would be better.

The emotional scenes are just shit. Like, I can't NOT mention the contrived comment scene, the whole theme about friendship, and Vanellope glitching when she's insecure, how the fuck, lmao? The comment scene just came off like elementary school/middle school bullying instead of how people actually talk on the Internet. It gives me flashbacks of the 2011 film Cyberbully.

And the way the conflict gets resolved is shallow too, because everything is shallow in this film. I mean, "Don't read the comments"? I mean, it's kinda right for certain situations, but sometimes comments can be useful in helping you improve and seeing how other people see your videos. Sure, you should ignore bullies, trolls, and mean comments, but you shouldn't ignore every comment.

While the letting your friend go and follow their dreams message is a well-intentioned message to send to kids, the way they did it here is actually harmful and contradictory to the first film. I don't want to get too much into the characters because I have a special character section for them, so I'm just going to talk about the theme and how it relates to the world. Vanellope LITERALLY goes turbo. She ditches her Sugar Rush friends, players, and her game. Seemingly putting her friends and game in danger, yet no one questions it. I can't believe this was made by the same people who made the first.

In the climax of the film, Ralph releases a virus to protect Vanellope from the dangers of Slaughter Race. But somehow, it ends up detecting and copying insecurities? I mean, it's a cool concept, but it doesn't make sense when that wasn't even Ralph's intention to begin with.

And like a lot of things in this film, the way they resolved that conflict is anticlimatic. Supposedly, it's a symbol of the theme of the movie which is about letting friends go, which is fine, but why does it need to be in the form of a literal antagonist? Also, I feel like this whole thing is kinda breaking the Show, Don't Tell rule.

The movie also suffers from a lack of subplots. One particular subplot involving Calhoun and Felix was teased but then gets completely thrown out the window. It isn't really an original concept, but it still feels disappointing that they fucked it over.

Characters

Established characters barely even act like themselves. They say and do a lot of stupid shit. Like that contrived joke with Tron having a glitch (no pun intended) and they assume it's already fixed, but it turns out it wasn't fixed. That could've easily been rewritten as Litwak announced it was fixed, but it turns out it wasn't.

Dialogue is pretty bad, too. There's a lot of unnecessary Internet references, laughably idiot dialogue (mostly from Ralph) and a few potty humor that aren't even funny. Oh, and this movie is weirdly fond of philosophies too.

Why would Ralph be interested in a book club?

Ralph is now an idiot loser. He spends the entire film whining and crying about how Vanellope doesn't love him and his hair, even when she's saying nothing about him, it almost comes off as sus (I don't think I can say the actual word I'm thinking of). He says stuff like this.

Bitch, you could've said, "Why are you angry at the rainbow." HOW HARD IS THAT TO REWRITE, WRITERS?!?!

If Ralph just stayed the overprotective father that didn't want Vanellope to wander into dangerous games like Slaughter Race and be around sus people, that would be fine. But no, he gets upset because he and Vanellope were inseparable for 6 fucking years. That is just problematic in more ways than one. Like, Vanellope's your only friend? FELIX IS LITERALLY RIGHT THERE! WTF HAPPENED TO YOU, RALPH?!?!

As for Vanellope, I think the concept of Vanellope getting bored with her game is a good concept to explore and would've been a good catalyst for character development, but here's the thing: SHE NEVER LEARNS. At the end of the film, she gets what she wants and RALPH has to be the one to learn something. Don't get me wrong, Ralph is also in the wrong for being clingy and not wanting his friend to leave his side for 5 minutes. But Vanellope was also a selfish, insensitive b!tch for putting her own game in danger and hurting her friends and her players (by the first movie's logic).

Now, on the positive side, there are some decent characters. Spamley, Yesss, the creepy Slug, Shank, and Knowsmore. Any new character in the film is amusing to watch.

Spamley is the spam junk guy. He's shady and wants to help Ralph and Vanellope get rich by looting from video games. I feel like this character could've probably been the antagonist as I always felt like he was going to backstab Ralph and Vanellope.

Yesss is the world-weary, aloof Youtube Algorithm with a loving side if she cares about you. It's how I'd imagine an Algorithm would act like if it was a person.

Knowsmore (who weirdly enough isn't google) also acts like how I'd imagine a search engine would act like. Saying what they think the other person is typing into the search engine.

The slug (I don't know if they mention his name) is aggressively creepy. He's the guy that Ralph buys the virus from. Fitting for how I'd imagine someone with a virus would act like.

Shank is the weakest of the characters because she's the one encouraging Vanellope to go Turbo, but she does have a cool personality. She may look slightly reminiscent of Calhoun, but she's not stern and hot-headed like her. Instead, she's easy-going, charismatic, and has some badass moves. I still like Calhoun better overall.

Animation/Music/Voice Acting

You can clearly tell it's a step up from the first movie. It's more fluid and cleaner. However, one thing I would like to complain about the animation is the way that some of the 2D princesses are translated into 3D. Ariel, Cinderella, and I think that was Tiana, look unrecognizable as 3D. Especially, Pocahontas, uh.

I think the voice actors were amusing to watch and portrayed their characters decently well. Sarah Silverman, however, felt somehow off to me. Like her voice is pitched up and she didn't really have as much range as she did in the first one, but it might just be the bad script and directing. Bill Hader, I thought he was great as Flint Lockwood and Fear, but his voice is a bit off in this film. Most of the time, he uses his Flint Lockwood voice (which I don't think really fits the character) and other times, he sounds different.

There's only two songs in there, one of them only lasts a second and somehow, it sounds better than almost anything about the full-length one. A Place Called Slaughter Race is not only Vanellope being a piece of shit, but it also doesn't sound particularly catchy. The melodies change like every minute and it's not even in a good way like Bohemian Rhapsody, it just sounds weird.

Overall

Ralph Breaks the Internet is just The Emoji Movie but a bit better. It does actually offer some creative things with the Internet. But it also could've done better in its portrayal of the Internet and that includes making the world feel more natural and cutting down the amount of Internet references (and there's A LOT).

The entire film wouldn't have happened if Ralph and Vanellope hadn't goofed off during work hours and forfeit the bid, but no. We GOTTA HAVE MEMES AND INTERNET REFERENCES FOR THE ZOOMERS AND ALPHAS!

BuzzTube and Knowsmore existing while Google and Youtube exists is weird. I guess they had some weird contract disagreements with these products?

There is little tension to be found as most of the conflict is resolved through anticlimatic and shallow dialogue and scenes and lame Internet jokes. And conflict is often started or ending with inconsistencies with the previous worldbuilding or with how the Internet really is.

There are barely any subplots in the film. One is teased, but never expanded upon.

Jokes are hit-and-miss. A lot of the dialogue felt unnatural and disgusting, often for the sake of making little kids laugh. Yet, the movie even tries to be r/I'm14andthisisdeep for no reason a few times.

Vanellope and Ralph are now almost completely different from how they were in the first film and of the two, only Ralph learns something and it's a pretty harmful message in the context of the film. However, I do like the new side characters. I personally think they should've done more with Spamley, but they all have fun personalities and act like how I'd imagine the Internet in character form would act like. And the parody with the Disney princesses and the interactions between them and Vanellope is actually creative to watch.

Animation is a clear step up from the first film besides the designs of some of the Disney princesses looking off. Voice acting was mostly decent except for a few characters sounding weird at times. Vanellope's I Want song is disappointingly forgettable.

Ralph Breaks the Internet gets 5.3 bells out of 10.

Also, why is it called Ralph Breaks the Internet instead of Ralph Wrecks the Internet? Ugh, they couldn't even get the title right.

Sour Bill is also one of my favorites and I would've loved to see more of him, too.

[thefallenangelsgang]

FALLOUT 4 HEADCANON MASTERPOST

two and a half years ago (👀) I posted a list of headcanons right around when I started playing around with the ideas in my fallout WIP

I've decided they ( 1 + 2 ) need to be updated and added to especially after Death Shroud gave me so many great ideas/things I want to steal. Added break to save you dash my loves <3

I will keep adding to this lmao

SECTIONS:

Post #1 Revisions

Post #2 Revisions

Death Shroud Stuff I'm Kidnapping

Misc Stuff From Asks, Mods, and My Brain (AKA THE LONGEST SECTION)

From #1 (Link Here)

We are keeping chair bound Murphy

I may or may not be recanting my gangly tall 'n thin Hancock HC. I oscillate wildly between wanting him to be Eldritch God™ tall and "gimme uppies! :3" short. He may end up being both. His height will be whatever is funniest for the bit.

oh yeah Sarah Lyons got merc-ed B)

We are still kicking with Kellogg in Nicky's skull but with the added angsty-ness brought in by Death Shroud. Oh the plot! Oh how it hurts so good! Kellogg wanting to find someway to punish the SoleSu(s) and Nick for picking through his memories? Ugh! Give me it all.

We are cutting Billy and the Fridge. I don't want to deal with the nightmare plot holes it will bring up and Quincy will already have enough BS. Plus the more I think about it the less I like the whole quest and its placement. Fuck! Maybe he'll be referenced in Publick Occurrences? I don't care! We're loosey goosey bay-be!

- 10. can stay. I have no issues with them and nothing funny to add

From #2 (Link Here)

Now I can bring up my beloved Vault-Tec Rep. Him in the Death Shroud? Perfect. Beautiful. Stunning. I no longer have to call him Paul Eiding as a very direct nod to his VO. Our Beloved David Dwecker is married to Sheffield and they have a house in Sanctuary filled with Nuka-Cola memorabilia (for Sheffield) and collectable plates (the kind grandmothers display for our lovely Rep). They have a little sitting area set up in the carport where they hangout, smoke, and dance together to Diamond City Radio. I need this for my mental health okay?

Shaun being Autistic is something I really want to explore. I truly forget who I first saw say this but it is not an original idea by any means. I also think the poor thing would have some level of trauma from everything so exploring that is gonna be fun! (no it will not oh my god I'm going to dredge up all my childhood issues.)

OHHHH CHRISTMAS. YULETIDE. FEAST OF ST. NICHOLAS. I find the "Seth Patrick" bit SO funny in Death Shroud so that is staying but also I feel like the feast of St. Nicholas got jokingly flipped into a celebration of Nick Valentine (Same with Valentine's Day) and people are beginning to forget the correct version. Nick tolerates it with an eye roll and a wry joke about people needing to read their history books but secretly finds the whole thing funny. Ellie has a santa suit for Nick to don during "his" holiday. Also the school children in Diamond City send Nick "Valentines" on valentines day and he displays them on his corkboard.

Music. My god the Johnny Guitar bit had me by the throat during Death Shroud. Expand those music libraries! Before you know it I'm gonna give Travis a rolling ladder attached to bookcases upon bookcases of records and holotapes. I want to hear people complain about how many Andrews Sisters records survived and God why won't Travis stop playing them!

The Flavor of Goodneighbor needs to be so complex. Like a good pasta sauce. I better be so overcome by the layers and smells and textures. Better Goodneighbor and Better Third Rail are really good starts but I'm expanding the shit out of both of them I think. I want to feel like Goodneighbor truly is dangerous to be in. Being able to cross most of the town in one sprint burst isn't cutting it Bethany Esda! Make it truly baffling how Hancock knows so much about the happenings in his town.

- 8. are about the BoS and I stand by them. You will get to meet my Lone Wanderer and learn about the hierarchies a little better. I redesigned the Orders and added one I think? I have to re-sort those notes lmao. Also the piloting thing is like MAJORLY important to me because the frequency of vertibird crashes in game pissed me off to no end.

From Death Shroud (@chadfallout76podcast THANK YOU)

Danse is just... Like That now. I can't wait to explore his character before and after Blind Betrayal especially because he will not be leaving the Brotherhood and he will still be Like That. [spoiler warning ;) for my story lol] I can't wait for the beautiful moments that will be born of it.

I actually kind of love some of the plot points in Death Shroud like the Mob Family wars? Staying 100%. Same with Ma and Boss Lombardo and some of the other families.

As is Charlie but I refuse to let him die. I got very attached to Charlie and his death was so perfect but this time he gets to stay alive dammit.

Magnolia sending Magnolia flowers with her letters? Genius

Vault-Tec Rep (David my beloved) being the saddest, wettest cat of a man imaginable when he's in Goodneighbor? Also fucking genius.

"Fish-lips" Malone being part of the same family as Skinny has me so excited for more mob family bullshit.

Ruffino's and the Black Rose is being transplanted somewhere and maybe might be near the Combat Zone. New den of sin anyone?

Obviously I'm not going to attempt to pull apart the fabric of reality in-canon but my god Death Shroud was fun <3

Some new Misc HCs

Diamond City is bigger and more populated, kind of in the same vein as the Goodneighbor HC. I haven't found a mod layout I like so I might end up redesigning it (Please kill me)

This is an old one from an ask! Hancock will help work the bar at the Third Rail occasionally. He's a notorious show off and his cocktails are mainly just straight liquor but he entertains the hell out of people when he dives over the bar to take orders and bother Whitechapel Charlie. There are major losses on nights he bartends due to the fact he forgets (sometimes purposefully) to take payment. Regulars know to put the cash in the tip jar so Whitechapel can collect it at the end of the night.

Another thing I'm keeping from an ancient ask, Danse wants kids. Badly. And the crushing blow of being sterile really fucks with him for a while. but he eventually comes to terms with it. He's also still touchy (as in he's always touching his partner) per that ask because I think that's cute.

I'm just going through old asks now lmao. Nick and Ellie dance together like the true father-daughter pair they are

I forgot who drew this but I once saw someone pair Sturges and Ellie together and that is the cutest damn thing so it stays.

MacReady got the Lone Wanderer's Grognak magazine as a gift for letting them into Little Lamplight and it's one of his prized possessions.

Macready and the Lone Wanderer's reunion is very cute my dudes.

More general slice of life stuff like fishing on the mainland and boats, more things to do in general, transportation, cool amputees, and other shit listed in this post I reblogged YEARS ago

OH Travis and Scarlett get married <3

Danny Sullivan skips town after taking the fun way down from the mayor's office and travels with some cross country caravans before coming back to work in Diamond City. YES HE LIVES!

Holy fuck i forgot I had this mod but the Institute projects the sky up on their ugly concrete dome because this mod fucks hard

Just the general vibe of raiders employing children and stringing more dead mutilated bodies about. There are mods for that and let me tell you they make the raider camps horrifying. No I will not be linking them. But they are available on Nexus should you want them.

Okay I'm changing the layout of everything apparently: Including but not limited to the Railroad HQ, The Prydwen, Vault 111, etc. Fuck game design I guess lmao. I like XFreakish's Railroad Redone and NordKitten's A Sensible Prydwen Overhaul for in game and basically plan to build off of them.

The asks: Hancock bartending, Danse wanting kids and being into physical affection, Nick and Ellie Dancing + MacReady and the LW's Grognak (same ask)

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wips on a Friday

Hi! its Friday! I do these on Friday instead of Wednesday because that's when I get the tags lol.

Anyways tagged by both @mareenavee and @thequeenofthewinter I have both art and writing to offer! It's another Josh week because I need that comfort mer right now. Art

Only a few more elements left on this one!

Putting some more scenes out there. Sometimes I draw his 4E design...The mullet just kinda sticks around though. :) Onto Writing. I started the Morrowind fic! Under the cut because of length!

“Get up scum.”

Teldryn considered a number of smart-ass quips, really he could go on all day, but he decided against it. He instead complied with the Imperial���s request, though standing wasn’t really possible in this part of the hull. He managed an awkward crouch that strained his back and neck, it seemed to satisfy the guard. Or he thought it did.

“Quiet today, are we? Did they finally cut out your tongue?” The guard taunted as he unlocked the flimsy gate. Oh, fuck him.

“Oh, you wish you boot-licking fuck!” Teldryn hissed sticking out his tongue at the guard. He spat in his direction, some spittle landing in the Imperial’s overly oiled armour. It earnt him a swift kick to the gut and a sword pommel to the brow, he could feel the blood drip over his eye…worth it. The guard grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet before slamming him against the bars of the cell.

“If it were up to me, we would have dealt with you decades ago,” Teldryn heard the rattling of another chain, felt it encircle his waist, the metal cold on his bare skin. He shivered, maybe that was the wrong move, maybe this guard was just an asshole but it earnt him another slam to the skull. His nose smashed against the metal bars. He grit his teeth, stifling the scream that threatened to escape his throat. The right move.

“All right, out!” The chain yanked and he felt himself being dragged to the right. Were they moving him again? He followed the guard out of the cell, finally able to stretch to almost his full height. Almost, the ceiling was far too low and he had to bend his neck awkwardly…still, it was better than the cell. They walked in silence through the lower decks, the only sounds were the howling winds, the muffled yells of the crew above deck and the constant rhythm of clanking chains.

He was sick of that sound in particular.

They stopped in front of another set of bars, another hovel in a sea of hovels. The space was heavily shadowed though he could just make out the silhouette of another poor sod in the far corner.

Shit!

“All right, last stop,” The guard grunted as he unlocked the gate, “We hear one peep out of either of you and you’ll lose your tongue”.  He pushed Teldryn through the gate, causing him to fall to the floor as the ship rolled against another wave. He felt a tug, the chain around his waist was being secured to a section of the deck that he couldn’t quite see. He waited as the guard left, gate closing, the click of a lock and then silence. Nothing but the roar of the wind, the muffled yelling of the crew and the groan of the ship. He let himself stretch out on the floor of the deck, he slung an arm over his face, his skin cool on the fresh wound on his face, he rolled his head to the side and examined his surroundings. Rope, some empty sacks, bucket, bones, rat droppings. Exactly the same as his old cell. Maybe they were cleaning it? That would be a relief, there was only so long one could stand wallowing in one’s own filth before it sent you slightly crazy.

There was a shaking of metal, he’d forgotten about the other prisoner. Shit! He instinctively reached for his belt, forgetting that the guards had taken his old shiv during his last escape attempt. The new one he’d been fashioning out of a loose nail and an overly large splinter was still lying in the corner of his old cell. On the far side of the ship. He had a chain! He could use the chain to choke the guy out if he attacked him. He started to run the thing through his fingers, making sure it made just enough noise to be a threat.

The jingling stopped and a silence fell over the two. Nothing but the howl of the wind, the yelling of the crew and the groans of the ship as it rolled through the storm outside. He was tired, and his head was beginning to spin, swim. The ship rolled again and he felt the nausea well in the pit of his stomach. That cold feeling in his gut that just wouldn’t go away. He looked around the cell again, rope, sacks,bones, bucket! The damn bucket was just out of reach! He shifted, stretching out one leg to try to move the damn thing closer to him. He managed to snag the handle with his foot, sliding the damn rusted thing over towards him. He had no idea if he’d need it. There was a roar outside, another lurch that sent him and the stranger that shared his cell flying into the bars. Another hit to his head left his head spinning. His head was screaming. Gods he was over this storm!

The other prisoner muttered something of a similar sentiment. Dunmeris? He hadn’t heard that in decades and if he was honest, he found it to be a small comfort. He wouldn’t let him know that. Never show vulnerability in these situations. That was the first thing Teldryn learned when he was first thrown in prison all those decades ago. Especially when brawn was not his side… and judging by what he could see in the dim light of the cell, he was certainly at a disadvantage here. The other prisoner had to be half a head taller than him at the very least and definitely weighed more. Teldryn examined his options. He could reply, a bad idea at the best of times, that would leave him open to a slew of potential problems that he was not interested in considering. The other option was to remain silent, the safer option, gives the other mer no reason to attack. He could always shake the chain again as a threat, his fingers felt for the links that tethered him to the ship and gave it a shake.

“Do you think they’re letting us go?” the other prisoner spoke, he’d changed to Cyrodiilic though he still maintained a thick Vvadenfell drawl that made Teldryn a little homesick. He’d all but lost his during his lengthy incarceration, being around nothing but Imperials, the odd Nord and that one Breton fellow did that to a person. He hadn’t used his mother tongue since he left Suran forty years ago and he was pretty sure that he was already losing it by the time he was arrested.

The other prisoner coughed, was he seriously trying to get Teldryn’s attention? He wasn’t particularly interested in making friends right now. He groaned in protest but decided he’d reply.

“I don’t know, does it matter?” maybe that would be enough to shut him up.  He laid back down on the floor, placing his arm over his eyes. His skin was just cool enough to provide some relief from the screaming pain in his head.

He muttered something else that Teldryn couldn’t quite hear, wrong ear, wrong side.

“You’ll have to speak up, I’m a bit deaf in this ear,” Teldryn lazily gestured to his left ear, the one with the busted ear drum that never quite healed right.

“Jiub,” really? They were doing names now? He’d rather not.

“Look, I’m not really interested in talking or making little friends right now,” Teldryn grumbled back and turned onto his right side. He didn’t hear if Jiub even replied, and to be honest, he didn’t care, “Just leave me alone.” He muttered, more to himself than anyone in particular. He closed his eyes and tried to push the sick feeling from his mind willing another round of restless sleep to overtake him.

[loislame84]

Working on the next chapter of From Russia with Begrudging Acceptance… here’s a small sneak peek since it might be a minute before I can post anything. Work is going to be crazy for me for a few weeks but I’m still trying to write when I get a chance!

***

Meeting mission Yelena was both an arousing and terrifying experience for Kate. Her girlfriend was focused on coming up with the best plan possible which would quickly accomplish everything with the least amount of people needing to be involved. Watching Yelena give the orders, standing at the white board was intoxicating enough but watching her sweat while kicking the absolute shit out of Peter was the most erotic thing Kate had ever witnessed with her own eyes. She was patiently waiting her turn for a go on mats but frowned when a voice called just beside her ear, “careful Kate Bishop if you drool anymore I’ll have to bring out a caution wet floor sign.”

Kate’s cheeks reddened while she quickly moved her thumb across her bottom lip to make sure she wasn’t actually drooling onto the training room floor. “What are you doing here?” She turned to see a familiar shit eating smirk that all former widows seemed accustomed to wearing.

“It’s your lucky day,” Sonya’s eyes glanced towards her partner right as she delivered a roundhouse kick which the boy surprisingly avoided just to get punched in the gut. “You and me, shooting day.”

“Why do I have to do the gun training when I’ll be using my bow,” Kate said petulantly as the thought of leaving the area was unpleasant.

“Do you want to question Yelena’s plans? We can go over the schedule together again if you’d like but I’m sure you remember how well that turned out,” another smirk forming.

Oh, Kate definitely remembered seeing how it was only three days ago. It was their second day of training and apparently Kate was feeling particularly bratty that day.

*2 days prior…*

Yelena had set up a training circuit for Peter and Kate to go through which included a series of different weapons from physical combat, guns, knives, and included a section for both of their weapons of choice. “Yes, I’m talking about your buttlace and your arrows. Sonya and I will be in there to attack at various points plus there are holographic enemies set up throughout the course. The technology is crazy at this place,” Yelena had let slip.

“So the Avengers do impress you,” Kate smirked.

Peter elbowed her, “please don’t piss off Ms. Belova before she starts shooting at us.”

“She won’t actually hurt us,” Kate rolled her eyes. “It’s only rubber rounds or pepper bullets.”

“Have you ever gotten hit with a rubber round?” Yelena laughed at the audacity of her girlfriend.

“No but how bad could it be?”

“That seems like a challenge to me,” Sonya laughed. “Permission for full contact?” She had turned to Yelena who simply nodded. She turned to her partner and whispered something into her ear which had Kate’s heart racing.

Yelena offered a deep chuckle, staring directly at her girlfriend. “The two of you will be working together to make it to the target before the time limit. If you fail, you do it until you clear the course. If you submit, you repeat the course. If you get shot, well… I think you get the point. Any questions?” Peter raised his hand, “good.” Yelena ignored him, ���you have ten minutes to come up with a game plan. When the buzzer sounds, the doors open and your time starts. You have thirty minutes to complete the course.” She turned to look at her girlfriend, “watch out for the rubber rounds, little hawk.”

Yelena and Sonya went into the simulator, leaving Kate and Peter in the briefing room. “Your girlfriend is very intimidating. I hope I get attacked by Sonya. I think she’ll go easy on me.”

“I think I fucked up again,” Kate swallowed anxiously, looking at the two widows staring at them from inside the door before they left the area. “I’m sorry for your future pain, Peter. I owe you dinner or something, probably many ice packs and icy hot.”

Peter pulled up the map of the course on the interactive table, “let’s plan this out. We need to get this on the first try. I don’t know how many beating I can take today.” He started to trace out a path noting all of the hiding areas leading to the target. They came up with a solid plan. Kate was going low with a full quiver of arrows and Peter was going to take the high road, pointing out blocks in their plan. They had their coms in their ears and were standing outside the doors waiting for the buzzer. “You don’t really think she’s going to shoot you, do you?”

Kate took a few breaths, “I have no doubt that she will absolutely shoot me the shit out of me.”

[tokidokifish]

extremely niche mmo experiences incoming but: the other day in ffxiv i got in a dungeon w a healer that was like "i'm new please pull slow!" which would have been fine except they went on to clarify that they had a level 90 tank and we were in prae, which (having a max-level tank) they would know has like one (1) section where you aren't forced to pull one pack at a time, so i litcherally COULDN'T pull big if i wanted to, but like. whatever.

but then as we go on i see them pulling regen on people individually and - as they had said they were a new healer - i was like "hey buddy at level 50 you have medica ii, you could just use that?" and they got REAL defensive abt it, being like "oh medica ii costs too much" (even i, the shittiest healer in the world, have never run out of mana in prae), and "we're doing fine get off my back" and i was like "cool whatever i was just trying to help."

but THEN we got to nero and things went Very Poorly after one dps died (admittedly foolishly) by running away w a stack marker, and then the other dps died because, again, the healer just absolutely refused to use aoe heals, and then i watched as the healer repeatedly failed to rez them, which was frustrating but like understandable - nero's a fight w a lotta movement and they weren't using their swiftcast but maybe it was on cooldown or something, whatever! again! shit happens!

but THEN, after we wiped, the healer was just INFURIATED bc they were convinced the raises had gone through even though i watched the casts fail and the lil "rez pending" icon never appeared next to the dps' name. i told the healer that, but they were still pissed because they thought the dps had just, like? refused to get up? and they started getting verbally abusive about it, all caps, going off on the dps and like - the healer asked for patience because they were new, and yet they just fucking went off on the dps for a couple of mistakes? and then something that wasn't even the dps' fault??

it was so toxic i opened the party menu and my mouse was like hovering over "vote dismiss", but the healer got quiet and i was like "well maybe they've calmed down now"

and then they decided they needed to fire off one more snide remark about how "if the dps didn't stand in stuff they wouldn't need to be rezzed" and i was like yeah okay you're gone and vote kicked them.

i'm still thinking about it, obviously. i've played mmos for almost half my life at this point, on my way to two decades, and i've never seen someone behave like that. tryhards that get toxic bc other people make mistakes - that's normal. arrogant pissbabies who not only refuse to acknowledge their own mistakes, but double down and blame other people for them - child's play. and of course new healers that need slow pulls are fine and i love them. but it was that perfect crystalized combination of all of those things that i had never seen before. wild.

[whatyourusherthinks]

Inside Out 2 Review

Oh god I'm gonna get fucking slaughtered for this one. Oh hello! Inside Out is a pretty good movie right? Well, yeah. I wouldn't put it on my top ten list of animated movies or anything, but I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. The way it personifies aspects of our emotional states is pretty interesting actually, as long as you can swing with the metaphor. But Pixar and an... interesting track record with sequels, so I'd say a second instalment isn't necessarily a guarantee for quality here.

What's the Movie About?

Riley goes through puberty while going to hockey camp, and Headquarters gains some new emotions that kick out the old ones.

What I Like.

A lot of this review could just be a review for the first Inside Out, so the things I like best about this movie are the same as the last. The various ways the movie explains different aspects on human psychology is really interesting. They introduce a mechanic of a self image that gets solidified by sending certain memories to a pool beneath headquarters and that was pretty interesting. The visualization of brainstorming and panic attacks were excellent. The characterization of Envy being really tiny and Embarrassment being the one to first turn against Anxiety was perfect as well. I like that one of Riley's darkest secrets was that she still likes Blue's Clues. (Me too Riley. Me too.) The voice cast is also top notch, just like the first movie. There were a couple moments where Amy Poehler and the animators really got to act as Joy and they were probably the best scenes in the movie. Inside Out (the first one) completely undid all of the negative effects of the plot at the very end, which I thought was annoying. And credit where credit is due, Inside Out 2 does not do that. I also got a dark laugh out of the scene where the thought animators riot against Anxiety, how'd the hell they slip that scene by the Disney Overlords?

What I Didn't Like.

Unfortunately the sequel does not improve my low points of the first. When the metaphor doesn't make sense, it really doesn't make sense. I can deal with the various emotions having their own emotions, but why can different emotions have crushes on each other? Or why does Riley has multigendered emotions with different hair styles when everyone else in the universe has emotions that all look very similar? There's a couple times where stuff jumps out at you or something suddenly makes a loud noise. And maybe I'm officially old, but I did not appreciate the jump scare. I kind of hate that the conflict of these movies is based on irrational behavior. I feel like it's kind of unavoidable based on the premise (even more than most comedies), but at least the first movie it felt understandable that Riley was acting out. She's 11, and her entire life got uprooted. The second movie is she's just trying to impress a clique. And yeah, they take pretty much every single awkward and irrational action every teen sitcom takes with this plotline. It got to the point where I was dreading the sections that flash back to headquarters. Also, this is kind of unavoidable with the personification I guess, but the fact that they portray negative states of mind seems a little shifty, right? As some one with mental illness, how am I supposed to take this movie? It's not my fault I have anxiety disorder and anger issues. Clearly my Joy didn't try hard enough to return to headquarters after being ejected!

My final complaint is certainly unique to the second outing, however. They retcon a lot of new things in the new movie, and the explanation is pretty much, "Oh yeah, we just didn't show you that before." or "It's new. Shut up.". I mentioned that there is a pool beneath Headquarters that they send memories to to create Riley's self image. Well that pool is in the Memory Dump. You know. The massive pit where Bing Bong died. Well now everyone has an elevator down to a nice lake where all the memories can go and sprout into a tree or some shit. And I guess nothing gets forgotten anymore? Also, and I've been saying this since the teaser came out, but the ending of the Inside Out implies that the more complex emotions are just combinations of the emotions we start out with. That's the point of the upgraded console at the end. Just because internet commentators were too stupid to get that and mentioning that "Inside Out ignores a bunch of other emotions humans have" made them feel smart, now the people who made the movies feel like they needed to prove a point and double the cast without a good explanation.

Final Summation.

Do you remember Salt Bae? He got internet famous for like two seconds because he sprinkled salt in a weird way and they used that to make a restaurant or something? Yeah, the restaurant with the gold plated steak. Inside Out 2 is the first bowel movement you take after eating there. It's got little flecks of something valuable in it, but it's mostly just recycled and shit. Jesus Roan that's pretty harsh for a kids movie. Is Inside Out 2 really that bad? Well here's the thing Buggnutz...

Inside Out 2 is Inside Out but worse. Without the context of Inside Out, is it worse than, say, IF? No, I wouldn't say so. I certainly have given worse movies passes. But usually that's because I appreciate the uniqueness of the concept, or it gives me something I can't get anywhere else. Basically, there is no better movie, so I enjoy what I have. But I have a better movie than Inside Out 2. It's the first Inside Out. The sequel doesn't expand on any of the first movie's concepts in ways that makes sense, it's doesn't do any of the beats of the first movie better, and it doesn't make me feel any emotions stronger than the first one did. It's passable kids fair, but when has that stopped me from trashing a movie?

[tacticalhimbo]

Merry Christmas @danidfordangercreativestuff ! I'm your secret santa for this year's event hosted by @gtafest !

I enjoyed the prompts ya provided, and decided to lean into some simple holiday shenanigans with this one. I hope you enjoy it, and have a great day <3

Let me know if you’d like a more permanent copy of this, too! I’m always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do :3

Under the cut for length!

The holiday season was always one of the best for the small, slowly growing crew. The general populace was so focused on their own overabundance. Their own capitalistic greed, accentuated by the hustle and bustle on the normally quaint North Yankton streets. Stalled lines of hardly-warmed cars. Arguments and fistfights breaking out in local shops over 'gifts' that would end up in the thrift or in the trash within the next few months. Chaos tucked within the thick blankets of snowfall. Comfort in the building tensions that ebbed and flowed throughout the town.

Something all the crew could relate to, in some way or another.

Not many members tended to stick around after jobs, floating outward and eventually finding their own paths. Some to other ventures. Some away from the criminal path all together. But there was a consistency—a ritual—in the way that Trevor and Michael found themselves sat in the back booths of some grungy bar, idly chatting and splitting the payout amongst themselves. They were, at this point in time, the only consistency amidst it all. The two that seemed to find themselves side by side; attracted like magnets. That's the way Michael would put it, anyway, words slurred and grin wide like a jackal's. Trevor's expression would match his own, arm coming to rest over the other's shoulder as he leaned in and gave a passionate affirmation to the sentiment. Hearty laughs over bottles and bottles of beer. Indistinct shouting and hollering as the pair stumbled out into the emptied streets, moonlight illuminating their forms as they pointed out their path. Boots lazily kicked off as they came to crash within Michael's home, warm bodies finding their respective spots beside each other, hardly paying attention to the way limbs entangled themselves and breaths mixed as slumber soon found them.

The next morning was more of the same. Idle chatter over steaming cups of coffee. Shared glances between listening in to the radio news. Following the ghosts of their former selves as the media tried to make sense of the robbery that'd occurred a mere few hours ago. Who was behind it? How much was taken? Where did it all go? Who could do such a thing the night before Christmas?

Huh, it was Christmas day, wasn't it?

"Shit, completely forgot." Words were groggily mumbled over the rim of the stained coffee cup.

"Hm?" Michael's head tilted curiously, eyes squinting as he looked between the radio and Trevor. "Didn't fuck the job, did we?"

"What?" That woke him right up. Made him briefly run through everything once more in his mind before he realized it was a waste of time. "No—No, M. It's fuckin' Christmas."

A moment to process the information with the tone provided. "… And? What, you wanna spend all day throwing up lights or something—"

Oh no, he knew that look in Trevor's eyes. He didn't need to ask; he knew the answer to his own question.

And he knew there was no backing out of it given how… barren his humble abode had currently looked. With all the heist planning, Michael simply forgot to dig through the ragged boxes shoved into the corner beside the couch. Forgot to spend the bright afternoon hours nearly slipping off of the ladder as he strung the lights—many of which he was sure had blown bulbs—across the overhanging sections of his roof. Normally, he had it already done out of habit. He really only ever celebrated with the crew, usually dipping out into town to take advantage of the bar deals and festive shows at the strip joint. But there was a part of him that still enjoyed the familiarity of the work, as he'd often helped out or outright done it himself when he was still with his parents. Trevor, on the other hand, outwardly seemed to enjoy it. Always made time to decorate his own place and make it feel seasonal, Charlie Brown tree and all. He always made the time to try making it comfortable.

It was bittersweet to think about, all things considered. Michael didn't know much about Trevor's family, but the bits he did…

"Fine. Fuck it. We can decorate."

Trevor grinned. "Good, your place looks like shit without it."

"Oh, fuck off." And yet there was no malice to the words as they were spoken. Nor in the accompanying grin that crossed Michael's features as he let Trevor have a nice nudge on the arm. He'd simply passed him by, picking at the discarded holiday box.

Simply drew out the tangled mess of cords and strings, as glitter stuck to the hairs on his arms. Trevor joined him soon enough, crouching on the opposite side to work through the wired mess and pick apart individual components. A series of warmly tinted icicle lights. Faux bundles of bush to drape over the porch railing. A semi-crushed wreath that—with a little bit of elbow grease—eventually looked close enough to a circle. Once they'd separated their arsenal as 'inside' and 'outside', the pair hauled out the exterior decorations, cursing low at the chilled breeze that whistled through the streets, and began the grueling task of hanging everything up. They shared their share of jokes between more strings of curses (as it turns out, using a hammer while hungover was neither of their strong suits), teasing one another for their minute injuries and their lack of artistic direction.

To passers-by, it genuinely sounded like the arguments of a long married couple. Bitter in its own, unique regard. But to them, it was nothing more than a little friendly fire. A lighthearted series of jokes that would be smoothed over once they'd stepped back and admired their lopsided, flickering handiwork. At least, that's what they'd told themselves as arms casually draped over the other's shoulders. As sides bumped together as they shared an equally lopsided hug.

"Well? Look any better, or still lookin' like shit, T?"

Trevor hummed, snickering at the way the faux consideration irked Michael. "Nah, looks fine by me."

Michael laughed and rolled his eyes. "Good, because I'm not climbing my ass back on the ladder. Can stay there year-round for all I care."

[thessalian]

Thess vs The Grind

No, not the employment-related one. I mean the grind that seems to come standard with so many video games these days. Because apparently the employment-related one isn’t enough for people.

When I first played Dragon Age: Inquisition, I was trying to do it spoiler-free, and ended up flailing so very hard that I missed out on a lot of stuff. Some people I needed to talk to didn’t get talked to, some side quests didn’t even trigger... Let’s just say it’s a really good thing that the Trespasser DLC wasn’t out at that point because I entirely missed Bull’s loyalty quest the first time through. (Though I am still annoyed that they sold us the actual ending as DLC later; so tired of shit like Legacy and Trespasser ripping out stuff we really need to understand future games and then selling it back to us for more money. It’s one thing when a game comes out in chapters; at least you know you’re buying the next installment when it’s chapters. But of course they’re not going to tell us, “Oh, by the way, we’re not giving you the real ending until you pay us more, and there’s a whole bunch of stuff you might need to know about for the next game to make any sense that you can only get if you pay us even more.” It’s ... kind of disgusting.)

Anyway. Point is that when I first started playing Inquisition on the very first run, I had no idea exactly how completionist you had to be to get the entire story. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed until I played a second playthrough with spoilers and walk-throughs and all manner of other shit. I don’t think that should be necessary, y’know? I don’t think you should have to go through the Wiki or be a completionist of the highest order just to get through a game, and I sure as hell don’t think you should have to hack through ninety-eight thousand miles of sweet fuck all in order to get through everything. And yet, that’s exactly what you have to do most of the time in Inquisition. A friend of mine put it best - I like the game that’s buried under the busywork. It just means I have to really be in the mood for the busywork before I can pick up a playthrough again, so it generally takes months to finish one, because I set it aside for weeks on end until I feel like pushing through.

Suffice to say that I finally finished most of a playthrough with an elven mage, something I haven’t really done since my nearly abortive first spoiler-free playthrough when it first came out. In that one, I didn’t get half the loyalty missions done, I never locked in the romance with Cullen I was after (which I think meant I was one of the first in my Tumblr circle to discover that Josephine turns up to offer a friendly shoulder if your Inquisitor’s single during that whole thing in the Winter Palace) ... and Trespasser wasn’t even a thing at that point. I’ve finished Jaws of Hakkon and Descent (I always do that before endgame, even if I don’t want to bring Solas, because I like being heavily overlevelled when I kick Corypheus’ ass - I KILLED HIM ONCE AS HAWKE AND REALLY RESENT HAVING TO DO IT AGAIN; FUCK’S SAKE, COULD WE PLEASE HAVE FINAL BOSSES STAY DEAD?!? DO NOT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE END OF ABSOLUTION), and I’ve only got Trespasser to go. I don’t know what the Fade sections of that look like for an elven Inquisitor ... and I hear rumours about a Cullen wedding before everything goes to the “Dead Qunari” place. I loved the Sera wedding, and I will admit to loving the whole thing where, at the end of the main game, the advisors bow and then Cullen is, “Okay, don’t care if we’re supposed to be dignified and official, I AM HUGGING YOU NOW”, so I’m looking forward to the culmination of that ... even as I hope he’s still surrounded by mabari puppies. (I may dislike Greg Ellis immensely, but I’m not taking that out on a very well-written character who Ellis just happens to voice.)

Honestly, I am still of the opinion that Dragon Age 2 should have been the open world free-for-all and Inquisition should have had a similar (if at least slightly less copy/pasted) structure to Dragon Age 2. I would have been happy to traverse ninety-eight thousand miles of sweet fuck all with Hawke because frankly that’s what Hawke was about, particularly in the first act - trying desperately to make ends meet in Kirkwall as a refugee. Hawke’s story was a sprawling thing where they ended up in the right (or wrong) place at the right (or wrong) time to be pivotal to changing the world, and wandering around doing random grindy shit is part of that. Whereas an Inquisitor should be getting letters at all hours telling them to go to a rather less huge area to fix a thing. Isn’t it funny how, while Dragon Age 2 was the rushed game of the two, Inquisition is the one that leaves you spending a lot of time poking through the turnip and wondering where the meat is, and being told you can’t  have your dessert until you eat at least most of said turnip? DA2 just has the higher story-to-faff ratio, when it feels like that should have gone the other way.

I have hopes for DA4. (No, I am not calling it that idiotic name; Dread Wolf is two words anyway.) I don’t know how high they are, but I have them. There’s the meat of a good game in the stew that is Inquisition, once you get through the turnip. I just hope they fix the story-to-faff ratio in DA4, is all.

[just-some-random-blogger]

YOU ALWAYS GOT ME CURLING MY TOES KICKING MY FEET SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

“Fancy seeing you here,” your captor said in a very familiar, cheeky voice.

🧍‍♀️ ???? This rat really acting like it was a coincidence when he nearly yanked my soul out my skeleton hello???? He's so stupid

I'm tryna be ur wife fool

He leaned down, his lips brushing along the column of your throat.

THAT SHOULD BE ME

His lips connected with yours in a soft, languid kiss. “Consider yourself warned,” he grinned.

WARN ME EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF MY EXISTENCE

“Just how much I like you,” you whispered, resting your chin on his sternum when he pulled back.

I fuckin knew I would forget the context of this... Gimme a sec... OH NVM I REMEMBER FUCK IM SO DUMB YEAH YOU AND ME BOTH BESTIE HELLO

He chuckled. “Gonna to have to be quiet f’me, love. Don't want go get caught with a Beater, aye?”

Literally me (I hate this gif I am legally obligated to say how much I hate it but equally find it hilllllllarrrious mdkdkdkksk)

You lurked by the Gryffindor locker rooms, waiting for George to emerge, freshly showered in his favorite hoodie and sweats. Your mouth nearly watered at the thought.

IMPURE THOUGHTS ONLY. I LITERALLY WENT I WILL LIKE HIM LIKE A LOLLIPOP FRESHLY SHOWERED JUST TO GET HIM DIRTY PLEASE I WANT HIM SO BAD

“Oi! What—oh, hey y/n.” He smirked down at you, waggling his eyebrows. “Wrong twin, but—”

🧍‍♀️😭✋ he is an icon. he is the moment. HES SO FUNNY. GEORGE IS GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU THOUGH BUT YOU DID IT FOR THE COMEDY

“Yeah, he was livid. But, he's the last one in there if you want to cheer him up.” Fred winked and slipped back into the hall, leaving you to your mischief.

We ain't leaving till our skins wrinkly as fuckkkkk HAHAHAHHAH

“You little minx.” He grabbed you off the bench and into his still damp chest, kissing you fiercely. “I was just about to come see you,” he said between sloppy kisses, backing you against a row of lockers.

I WILL LITERALLY GIVE HIM HIS OWN QUIDDITCH TEAM. MOLLY WEASLEY AINT GOT NOTHING ON ME

Your stomach dropped, indignation at Woods words colliding with the newfound guilt in your mind. George loved Quidditch. You didn't want to be the reason he wasn't playing well. But also…what if that meant Quidditch was higher priority to him? Where did that leave you?

Honestly me at Oliver: (the crowd goes fucking mild)

How does he think not dating will help? The call of a man who's never felt the touch of a woman

“Fuck, Georgie,” you whined, bucking your hips against his hand.

😭CON😭GRA😭TU😭LA😭TIONS😭 HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY LIFE

Irritation prickled up your neck. “I'm not sure I have time to tutor someone.”

A deafening crack sounded from across the pitch and you both startled, turning back towards the match. A bludger was barreling straight towards your section. You screamed as it slammed into the post less than half a meter from Gus' head, ripping through the wood with a resounding boom and scattering splinters across the section.

BROOOOOOOOOOO GEORGE OUT FOR BLOOD HES LEGIT ALMOST KILLED A MAN INSANE BEHAVIOR HELLO?????

Gryffindor was booing the call, chanting “Weasley!” at the top of their lungs. Without George, unless Harry caught the snitch, the match was basically forfeit.

AND THATS ON PERIODT. MY MANNNNNNNNNNNN IS THAT GWORL

“Are you questioning my aim?”

GAGO KA GEORGE GEORRGGEEEE IM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT YOU HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL GAGO

He pinched your cheeks together in his still gloved hand, shaking you slightly. “I'll always protect you, brat. And if that makes me a madman, so be it.”

I WANT HIM

A grin split George's handsome face, making your heart flutter.

I wish he was real ): (he's real to me)

“Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”

BEAUTIFUL STUNNING GORGEOUS LOVELY UGHHHHHH 100000000000/10

Hii there!! Can you write something about George Weasley where he and the reader have been really good friends for a while but start secretly dating because of some stupid rule like quidditch players can’t date during the season or something like that? And they get caught by their friends being intimate after a game?

Ps: love your writing style so much, your fics are so easy to get into and beautifully written💕

thank you for the request! hope your enjoy 🫶

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

| George Weasley x fem!reader

cw: light smut (heavy petting/making out), sneaking around/secret relationship, jealous!george, assault via bludger, oliver wood is a cock block.

MDNI 18+

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You were walking down the hall with Luna, chatting about the results your divination exam, when a hand shot out and yanked you into a dark, empty classroom.

“Fancy seeing you here,” your captor said in a very familiar, cheeky voice.

“You can't just kidnap me, Weasley.” You cross your arms over your chest, jutting out a hip.

“Kidnapping is a bit dramatic.” George’s hands slide around your waist. “Can't a bloke want to spend a few moments with his girl?” He leaned down, his lips brushing along the column of your throat.

You craned your head back for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Perhaps. But still, some warning would be nice.”

His lips connected with yours in a soft, languid kiss. “Consider yourself warned,” he grinned.

You breathed a content sigh, taking your fingers through his ginger hair while he peppered featherlight kisses along your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids. The last few weeks had been so challenging thanks to Woods new rule about dating during Quidditch season.

You and George had been circling one another since fourth year, waiting for the right moment to dip your toes into something more than friendship. And of course, when the stars finally aligned, Wood had to throw a wrench in your new relationship. So now, instead of basking in your honeymoon phase, you were forced to sneak around, hiding your relationship from everyone.

But Fred, obviously. George couldn't lie to his twin even if he wanted to.

“You're in your head, darling,” George murmured, pulling back to look at your face in the dim light.

“Am not,” you argued, dragging your hands down his chest and sliding them under his robes. The sweater beneath was soft and thick, warm from his body heat.

“What are you thinking about?” He kissed your temple, across your cheekbone, beneath your ear…

You hummed, leaning into him, soaking up his heat, his unhurried affection.

“Love?” He prodded, nipping at your ear.

“Just how much I like you,” you whispered, resting your chin on his sternum when he pulled back.

A smile spread across his freckled face. “My sweet girl,” he cooed. “I like you too.”

You pressed your lips to his, brushing your tongue along his lower lip, and his hands tightened on your waist. He parted his lips for you to delve deeper, matching every stroke of your tongue with his until you were panting, clawing at his sweater to get closer.

He backed you against a desk, his hand sliding under your skirt to squeeze your ass, notching your hips against his. A gasp squeaked for your throat when he ground himself against you, already growing sensitive.

He chuckled. “Gonna to have to be quiet f’me, love. Don't want go get caught with a Beater, aye?”

You nodded, clamping your lips shut.

The Quidditch season was only three months. How hard could it be?

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Quidditch practice ran late for the third night in a row, and you were desperate for some attention from your boyfriend.

You lurked by the Gryffindor locker rooms, waiting for George to emerge, freshly showered in his favorite hoodie and sweats. Your mouth nearly watered at the thought.

But player after player trailed out of the locker room, and no George. You were getting impatient, shifting form foot to foot when you spotted Fred walking with Ron, chatting animatedly about the match this weekend.

You grabbed Fred’s wrist and yanked him to the corridor you were hiding.

“Oi! What—oh, hey y/n.” He smirked down at you, waggling his eyebrows. “Wrong twin, but—”

“Ew, Fred! No! Where's George?”

Fred snickered. “Still in the shower. Pitch was muddy and he got a face full from Thomas.”

You grimaced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, he was livid. But, he's the last one in there if you want to cheer him up.” Fred winked and slipped back into the hall, leaving you to your mischief.

You scampered down the corridor and into the locker room, following the trail of steam until you found the only drawn curtain. George was humming to himself, tapping his feet on the tile floor.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to avoid laughing and ruining the surprise, and perched on the bench across from the curtain to wait.

A few moments later, the water cut off and his hand poked through the curtain, grabbing the red towel off the hook.

The curtain ripped open, and George yelped in surprise, nearly dropping the towel slung low around his hips.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You grinned.

“You little minx.” He grabbed you off the bench and into his still damp chest, kissing you fiercely. “I was just about to come see you,” he said between sloppy kisses, backing you against a row of lockers.

“Were you?” You giggled as his lips moved down your neck, sending tingles skittering across your skin. You dragged your nails cross his bare back, admiring the way his muscles jumped at your touch.

“Couldn't stand another night without you,” he admitted. He started undoing the buttons of your blouse, clearly feeling as desperate as you did based on the tent in his towel.

“Eager, are we?” You teased, hiking your leg over his hip as his hand slid into your skirt.

His middle finger swiped through your slit, teasing your clit with small circles. Pleasure pulsed through you, making your eyes roll back. “Someone is. Already soaked for me, love,” he groaned, capturing your lips in another bruising kiss as he toyed with you.

“Fuck, Georgie,” you whined, bucking your hips against his hand.

“Merlin, I missed you.”

“Weasley, you still in here?” Wood called his voice echoing around room.

“Bloody fucking—stall, now.” George slipped his fingers from you and into his mouth, ushering you into the shower stall he just vacated. The air was still humid and scented by his vanilla body wash. No, your vanilla body wash, you realized, spotting the bottle you'd been missing still sitting on the shelf.

“Still hangin’ around, Wood?” You heard George say.

“I wanted to talk to ya’ about somethin’,” Oliver said, and you saw his boots enter the shower room from under the curtain.

“Can I put trousers on first?”

Oliver snorted. “Sure, mate.”

You heard George shuffling around, pulling on his clothes.

“Fucking trousers don't hide shit,” he grumbled to himself and you had a stifle another laugh. “Alright, Wood. What's on your mind?”

“You've been distracted, Weasley. Missing bludgers, ignoring plays, it's not like you to not take Quidditch seriously,” Oliver said, and you frowned.

George sighed. “It's, ah, there's an assignment in Herbology that's gone tits up. Damn plant won't grow,” George said.

“Uh huh,” Wood answered, clearly not buying it. “Well, maybe it's time your sort out your priorities, mate. Not sure a plant is worth throwing the season, if ya’ know what I mean. We need our best Beater, yeah?”

Your stomach dropped, indignation at Woods words colliding with the newfound guilt in your mind. George loved Quidditch. You didn't want to be the reason he wasn't playing well. But also…what if that meant Quidditch was higher priority to him? Where did that leave you?

“Understood, Captain.” George's voice was cold, a stark contrast to his usual chipper demeanor, and it raised goosebumps along your arms.

Oliver clapped him on the shoulder and left the locker room, evidently oblivious to the shift in George. The door clicked shut behind him, echoing around the empty room.

George tugged the shower curtain open, startling you from your spiralling thoughts. He immediately clocked the distress on your face, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Oh, lovey—”

“I didn't know I was impacting the team,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes.

George tilted your chin up, his other arm wrapping around your waist. “Baby, the teams fine. Wood just has a stick up his ass. I played great today, and always do when you're in the stands watching me.”

It was true. Some of his best games had been in the last month you'd been together.

“And besides, I don't need to sort out my priorities.” He bumped his nose against yours. “You always come first, y/n.”

Your heart soared, heat creeping up your neck. “Before Quidditch?” You asked, curling your hands into his hoodie.

“Before everything.” He kissed you softly, with no real pressure, just feeling you against him, and all your anxiety fell away. “C’mon, Freddie's going to a Hufflepuff party tonight, so we've got my dorm to ourselves.”

You kissed him again, smiling. “Sounds perfect.”

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Brooms whizzed over your house’s section, whipping your scarf around your head.

“Go George!” You cheered, when he drifted nearby, twirling the bat in his gloved hand.

He flashed you a wink before banking left, whacking the snot out of bludger that was hurdling straight for Ron. It rocketed across the pitch and directly into the other houses Seeker, giving Harry the advantage.

“Woohoo!” You cheered with the rest of the student body. “Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”

“Good game, aye?” A guy sidled up next you, leaning against the railing. You sort of recognized him from your Potions class, but couldn't be sure.

“Great game,” you replied, turning your attention back to the match and your boyfriend.

“Are you fan? Of Quidditch, I mean?”

“Mhmm—go Ron!” You cheered, tuning him out.

“I'm Gus, by the way. We're in the same Potions class?”

“Hi, Gus.” You give him a tight smile, hoping he takes the hint.

“Y’know, maybe we could study together sometime. Merlin knows Potions isn't my strong suit, but you seem pretty smart—”

“Get after it, Harry!” You roared as the Seeker flew overhead, the snitch just a few feet out in front of him.

“What do you think, y/n?” Gus prodded.

Irritation prickled up your neck. “I'm not sure I have time to tutor someone.”

Gus’ smile faltered. “Well, what about the next match, then? Maybe we could sit together.” He scooted closer you, infringing on your already limited space.

You squirmed closer to your friend on the other side of you, who was too wrapped up in the match to notice your discomfort. “No thanks, Gus.”

“Oh, c’mon. I promise I'm a nice guy.” He dropped his hand on your knees, and you wrenched yourself away.

“Don't fucking touch me—”

A deafening crack sounded from across the pitch and you both startled, turning back towards the match. A bludger was barreling straight towards your section. You screamed as it slammed into the post less than half a meter from Gus' head, ripping through the wood with a resounding boom and scattering splinters across the section.

You jumped back, falling into your friends laps, and Gus shrieked like a banshee, his face blanching white at how close it had come to taking his head clean off his shoulders.

An ear-splitting whistle interrupted the resulting chaos.

“Weasley, out!” Madame Hootch hollered.

You straightened in alarm, finding George hovering at the center of the pitch, his bat gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes were locked on Gus, dark and smug, a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“George, land!” Wood bellowed, and George finally floated back to earth. You could hear Oliver shouting, but couldn't see George from your seat.

You fought your way out of the stands, trying to push your way towards the locker room.

Gryffindor was booing the call, chanting “Weasley!” at the top of their lungs. Without George, unless Harry caught the snitch, the match was basically forfeit.

Your mind raced from the adrenaline. Did George do it on purpose? And if he did, why would he jeopardize the match like that?

You found him in the locker room, undoing the ties on his robe. He was still in his uniform, sweaty and smeared with dirt, his hair flat from the helmet.

“George,” you said, and he looked up.

“Love, what are you doing down here?” He frowned, reaching for you, but you held your ground, crossing your arms over your chest. His frown deepened.

“Did you do that on purpose?” You demanded.

“Of course I did,” he responded, not a trace of hesitation in his voice.

“Why? They won't win without you!”

“I don't care about the bloody match, y/n.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

George walked over to you, cradling your face in his gloved hands. “That guy was bothering you, yeah?”

You almost denied it, but found yourself nodding, unable to lie to him.

“And you thought I was going to sit back and let someone make you uncomfortable? My girl? Fuck no.”

You giggled, his protectiveness spurring a wave of affection and dissolving your anger. “I think nearly killing him was a bit much,” you snickered.

“Are you questioning my aim?”

“Just your sanity.”

He pinched your cheeks together in his still gloved hand, shaking you slightly. “I'll always protect you, brat. And if that makes me a madman, so be it.”

You swatted his hands away before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for kiss. He tasted of salt and peppermints, his skin smelling of turf and fresh air, with a hint of that masculine musk that made your head go a little fuzzy.

He kissed you back, catching your lower lip between his teeth and sucking gently. You moaned against him, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth and taste you.

“I'm done hiding,” he murmured when you both came up for air. “And Wood can bugger off.”

The mixing shouting of the crowd filled the quiet air around you. “Ravenclaw scores another twenty points!” Lee declared, his voice notably unenthused.

George shook his head with a smug chuckle, leaning his forehead against yours. “See? They need me.”

“Weasley!” Oliver shouted, startling you both. George looked up, tightening his grip around you. Oliver didn't even bother to act surprised. “You're back in,” he sighed.

A grin split George's handsome face, making your heart flutter.

“Good man,” he replied, dropping a peck onto your lips before doing his helmet and running back out onto the pitch to the roar of the crowd.

“Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Thank you so much for reading!

If you enjoyed, you can check out my published work here.

Much love,

Allie

[o5-10]

I am realizing there is very little in here that is not hilarious. I have omitted some mostly irrelevant chatter, though there are sections that could have been omitted, but I felt they added flavor. As such, I will be placing it below a performative clearance barrier. Be aware that it is fairly lengthy, but it is also a conversation I look back on fondly, despite the context.

O5-6 "Cowboy": Youre welcome. And yes. You owe me a pair of boots for that anyways.

Chaos Insurgency: Like hell we do. We had to remove a spur from somebody's eye

O5-10 "Janus": Astounding.

O5-10 "Janus": Did they keep their eye?

Code Bastard: Well, are you going to give it back?

Chaos Insurgency: Both eye and spur were fucked

O5-10 "Janus": Sucks for that person.

Chaos Insurgency: Not to mention five armoured vehicles and an entire three floors of the hotel

Chaos Insurgency: And untold casualties. You owe us, Six. We're coming to collect

O5-10 "Janus": I'd ask how you managed that, but then I remembered what cataclysmic screw ups you are.

Code Bastard: Well, you owe him his boot spur back.

Chaos Insurgency: Fuck you Jan, you can talk once you've survived an entire battalion of airdropped fully armoured MTFs wielding RPGs with Six at point yeehawing his way through the ballroom window

O5-10 "Janus": Okay.

O5-10 "Janus": Hey, Six, dispatch all of the combat ready MTFs to my location immediately so I can tell the Insurgency how much they suck.

O5-10 "Janus": I don't have a ballroom, so that last bit isn't really possible.

Code Bastard: Buy one

Code Bastard: You have time to have one built. It’s not like the Chaos Insurgency’s dumb ass will ever find you.

O5verthinking: Hey, what the fuck is going on.

O5-6 "Cowboy": You can collect your next ass whoopin anytime you want CI. This whole bussiness about shit happenin while I was aways got me antsy.

O5-10 "Janus": The Insurgency is existing, O5ver.

O5verthinking: That's never good.

O5-10 "Janus": I don't think any further explanation is needed.

O5verthinking: Let us guess, they also think they're special.

O5-10 "Janus": I don't think it counts as a guess when it's a known fact they're like that.

O5verthinking: Quite fair.

O5verthinking: Everyone thinks they're special, anyway. Everyone thinks their own particular grudge against the Foundation is just as important to us as it is to them.

O5verthinking: And ninety-nine percent of the time? Newsflash, asshole: it isn't.

Chaos Insurgency: Quit acting cool, Oh Five. Maybe it wasn't precisely your council, but remember all that squawking that happened way back when the schism happened for real? Music to the ears.

O5verthinking: What's that? We can't quite make out what you're saying over the sound of an organization revolving entirely around being a nuisance to us.

Chaos Insurgency: Eat an entire ass

O5-6 "Cowboy": The only thing the Insurgency'll be eating is shoe leather when i kick their teeth in.

Chaos Insurgency: Fuck off Cowboy. You'll get yours.

Code Bastard: They’ll get their spur back?

Chaos Insurgency: NO

Code Bastard: How nice of you

Chaos Insurgency: SHUT UP ABOUT THE SPUR ALREADY

Chaos Insurgency: IT REALLY FUCKING HURT OKAY

Code Bastard: So, are you going to keep it then?

Chaos Insurgency: PISS OFF

O5verthinking: How romantic.

Code Bastard: Are. You. Keeping. The. Spur. ?

Chaos Insurgency: Beta Operative Persimmon has been removed from the keyboard.

Code Bastard: Well tell them to come back and answer my question

Chaos Insurgency: The spur is still in our possession. New plan. Yes, we are going to return it.

Code Bastard: How nice of you

Chaos Insurgency: We melt it down, recast it into a bullet, and shoot Six in the smug fucking mug

O5verthinking: Please tell Beta Operative Persimmon that romantically pursuing any iteration of Cowboy will not lead to anything good.

O5-10 "Janus": How do you intend to exact vengeance on Six?

Chaos Insurgency: Wh

Code Bastard: That would be an awfully terrible bullet.

Chaos Insurgency:Nobody is pursuing that fucking, that fucking jerk wad

O5-11 "The Father of Lies": Nobody's doing what now?

Code Bastard: That’s so good for Nobody, I’m proud of them.

O5-6 "Cowboy": Wow, I didnt realize the Insurgency had such top dollar insults.

O5-10 "Janus": I didn't want your master plan for killing my coworker.

O5verthinking: Oh no, I've been called a jerk wad. Whatever shall I do –O5-6

O5-10 "Janus": We don't need to know what it is, because history shows, it will fail, and we likely won't have to do much for it to crumble.

Chaos Insurgency: We only wish we had a special bullet for each of you.

Chaos Insurgency: But Six comes first.

O5-6 "Cowboy": Awwww its like an arts and crafts project how sweet. They do care.

Code Bastard: Giving gifts. How sweet.

Chaos Insurgency: WE CARE TO ENSURE THAT YOU FUCKING DIE LIKE A DOG

Chaos Insurgency: JERK. WAD.

O5-10 "Janus": Oh, I'm hurt.

O5-10 "Janus": I don't get a special bullet.

O5-10 "Janus": I'm not as special as Six to the Insurgency, whatever will I do.

[watermeat]

Cool I just watched another Bad Horror Movie I happened to find another movie called Escape Room which was about an Escape Room but DEADLY!!!! but there were so many gaping flaws in EVERYONE'S logic it was genuinely hilarious.

OOOOH this is the MOST HAUNTED BOX EVER!!! If you open it it'll CURSE YOOOOU. It's not for sale because it's SO CURSED but I've left it out on the side in plain view and reach of everyone anyway. Also after you stole it from me and specifically told me you were going to put it in an escape room for strangers to open, THAT YOU TOLD ME WHERE IT WAS, I'm going to do absolutley nothing about it.

Then the people IN the room... "let's put all the clues in our POCKETS"??? How unhinged are you??? Just put them on the table like a normal person.

And when everything goes to shit, let's NOT TRY TO ESCAPE THE ROOM and instead CRY IN A CORNER *SILENTLY* FOR LITERALLY 15 MINUTES. At LEAST scream for help some more since you know for a fact there's at least 2 more colleagues in the building.

And then they FINALLY reach the bit where they're like "oh wait we need the coins that that jackass put in his pocket before he got murdered to put in this TINY FLIMSY METAL BOX" just fucking break the box open. Why are you dooming so bad just break the fucking box.

Then the workers themselves JFC if you're so concerned about the broken cameras and want to make sure everything's okay just maybe listen in to the room?

And when you FINALLY decide to go in to check it out and SOMEHOW lose your keys before you're kicked out by the muderer (who just didn't murder you for some reason?) why didn't you just yell the door codes through the door way so they could get out?

And to top it all off the puzzles were piss easy. Apparently this won like an escape room competition or something when literally I could have solved it in, what, 10 minutes tops? All the clues OBVIOUSLY pointed to the next section and it took them like 10 minutes each clue "ooooh we have a DOOR KNOB... what do we do with it...." IDK PUT IT IN THE DRAWER THAT'S MISSING A KNOB MAYBE? Also that's not how drawers work, you can still open them without the door knob which means you could theoretically clear the whole game by skipping 80% of the puzzles.

[lukowrites]

1 hour free write – Dopamine baby

Nathan McDermott lived at home, he always had, felt he always would. Around 3pm he would usually wake, tired despite getting his 8 hours. Sometimes he’d jerk off his waking boner, other times he’d go straight to the kitchen and sate another hunger. Brafternoon tea – eggs, bacon strips, beans, toast, hash browns or potato gems, and toast to soak it all up, sipping a coffee or two while he ate. During his breakfast he often paused to take a shit, coming back to a tepid plate that he’d begrudgingly continue. Wasting food was a sin. Chucking the plate on the floor, or around his desk, he reached over and swizzled off the cap to his flavoured vodka. Pouring himself a generous helping, mixing it with warm canned lemonade he had stashed under his desk, he sipped while scrolling the forums and fondling himself.

Sometimes he’d let out his frustration by raging about pointless trash to easy targets, unsure if he wanted a response, or would hate to receive one. Other times he’d boot up a video game, combing through every nook and cranny, but either way, he’d lose track of time, which was the primary goal, to forget about life. This habitual routine, a pattern of congregated joyless urges feeding off each other, steered his life. Glancing out towards the window, seeing the birds, something resonated and pulled him in. He’d long forgotten and devalued how the sunshine and the outside can revivify, instead, he only felt hopelessness and defeat at the sight. That was a place for others, people stronger than him, born lucky, or with a strength he was far from attaining. Much too far, the thought alone of climbing out of his pit exhausted him, he was always exhausted of course, and the smallest steps were a massive effort. Thoughts too exhausting to let germinate, quickly nipped in the bud.

He checks the time, 7pm. Too late to do anything outside, just as the midday energy of his brafternoon tea kicks in. Oh well.

Take a load off brother, life is about having fun. Don’t stress yourself. Dinner will be ready soon, I think mum’s making tacos. Still time for another fap. Just don’t look at your body, and don’t let your arm brush against your ballooning man-tits too much, all distractions we don’t need. That’s it, let us assume control. Speak to me, as if you speak to another, fracture yourself and blame the other, when you’re an inner child beheld to the other, you don’t need to grow up. Poor thing. Eat your din dins.

Time for more games! So much trauma. They’re not excuses, they’re reasons. You’re very logical. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. 9pm, let’s relax. Have some more drink, put on a show, don’t cry, I’m right here. I know what you need. Dopamine, baby.

Nathan. WAKE UP! GET UP AND DO SOMETHING! YOU’RE PATHETIC! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND AND GIMME 20 RIGHT NOW! FUCKING DO IT DO IT DO ITT DO ITTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!

1…2…3……4……….

That was a pretty good effort. Not bad. Still pretty pathetic though. Have another drink, maybe a smoke? I know you quit, but times are tough, and you don’t wanna live forever. Let’s go for a walk, that’s productive right?

The moon was beautiful in blurred vision. Stumbling gracefully like in Zui Quan, dancing around, bottle in hand, he weaves his way in bliss through the night. Sip. A sudden burning sensation, he sits down, pulling up grass and feeling it between his fingers, performing a cross-section, analysing carefully, before scrunching it up in a ball and throwing it in the air. Maybe some sit-ups?

1….2….3…..4……5……..6…….7………8…………9……………10!

Fuck yeah! That was hard, but you can keep this up. You’ll be fit in no time.

11pm. Nathan goes back inside, tired and sweaty, enjoying the feeling mixed with a little drunken carelessness and daydreaming, he stumbles back to his computer chair and plops himself down. Now what?

Another sip of vodka down, he moans while getting out of his chair. Making it to the kitchen, he opens up the fridge and leans on the door heavily, assessing the inventory. Feeling zany, he fishes out a store-bought pre-made salad, healthy AND tasty, along with a large bag of BBQ crinkle cut chips from the pantry, and retreats to his room. He opens up a 3 hour video on pizzagate, enjoying the demoralisation as a sobering reminder of the world and people he hates/avoids, munching down his snack to the twisted crayon drawings of traumatised trafficking-victims. The hate spiral continues down, trapped by G-force, he plunges deeper.

I hate these people. I want them all to burn, I wish a flood would swallow the Earth and kill everyone. There’s nothing I can do. Hopeless, hopeless, AHHHHHHH.

He smashes the desk with a thumping fist, clattering the empty cups and plates together. 2am. Fuck this, time for a distraction, I can’t sleep like this. Nathan opens up a game, killing time and enemies. His head hurts. The hangover coming fast, he takes a big gulp of vodka. The placebo effect immediate, dilatory distraction resumes. He feels the buzz, his eyes growing heavy, his headache still pressing but mixed with tingling.

4am. Nathan opens up his messages. Nothing. He checks his bank account, $5.64, 3 days til pay day.

What’s your ex doing? Probably curled up against someone right now. Remember your dead dog? Remember that time you were alone with the teacher? Your parents hate you. You’ll never amount to anything. Who are you anyway? Imagine how peaceful death is. What’s the easiest way to kill yourself? Are you happy? I know what you need. Go to sleep, dreams are nice. Don’t think about tomorrow. Take it one day at a time. If you still feel like shit then, maybe do something about it. You probably will anyway, but you’ve still got some booze left. That’ll tide you over. I guess you don’t wanna die after all, at least not yet.  

5am, Nathan gets into bed, too tired to stay awake, he passes out. He doesn’t dream.