#white pill logic

[thedyf]

White Pill Logic

[tpwrtrmnky]

debate

[ID: 4-panel "pills that make you green" comic.

Panel 1: A light blueish grey stick figure is talking to a green stick figure.

LBG: "Hey I think the way you debate could use some refinement."

Green: "Oh?"

LBG: "Yeah like maybe check out Dischorse, they're pretty good."

Green: "Dischorse? Didn't they say-"

LBG: "Yes they did but don't worry about that just watch a debate."

Panel 2: Green is sitting at a computer setup with two monitors. On the left monitor is a logo that reads "Disc Hors", without the e, showing a horse head emerging from some kind of disc. On the right is a social media app.

Green: "Well, time to learn debate tactics I guess."

Panel 3: A stick figure with a horse head is slamming their hands into a table while a long chat (transcript below) flies by on the right.

Dischorse: "Look, CouchTruther69, we've been over this already. If your only source is a ten hour rant video then you don't have a source. No, no. Don't try to change the subject again, yes you're trying to change the subject. Behave."

Panel 4: Green continues watching, with the monitors in front of them.

Green: "It's four hours of this? I mean if they're getting paid to do it, sure. Not for me though."

Dischorse: "No, listen to me. We've been over this. That was already debunked ten minutes ago-"

End ID.]

[Chat transcript:

very dark off-white: horse they did a logical fallacy get them. orange: outside is so cool. God damn. games workshop fenrisian grey: horse your take on the season finale of Bexing Mech Politics was reprehensible, I've never seen media literacy this bad. blue: Thoughts on chromomedicalism? I think we should consider it. the imperceptible idea of a color known as "man": hi everyone moss green: If the election comes to microtransactions child versus immortal jeff, I'm voting with violence, actually. fishmoder37: why is everyone in this chat chromatic? where are my grayscale dischorsites at? cyan: lol purple: lmao red: speaking of, when's horse going on hue replacement therapy? in square brackets: user red has been banned for prime directive violation. blue: horse wouldn't look good anyway.

end transcript.]

Start - Previous - Next

[brailsthesmolgurl]

“Is it time for a horror movie?”

Preview: LNDS boys’ watching horror movies with you

SYLUS

Hiding behind your hand, you were anticipating something to jump out from the edge of the screen. The music was drowning your logic, causing your brain to sway away from believing that this horror movie is just a piece of fiction. Yet, you got curious, wondering how your boyfriend is doing beside you and you figured it would be a good enough to distract yourself from the movie by staring at him. When you peeked over to him, you watched his figure slouched against the maroon backrest, half-lidded, blankly staring at the screen bearing the face of indifference. “How are you not scared? The music is so damn loud!”

The man chuckled in return, eyes trained on you now, his red orbs a matching pair with the ghost in the movie. “When you had witnessed enough non-fictional horrors, fiction just remains fictional.” He crossed his arms and leaned closer to you, the tip of his nose nearly touching yours. “Why? Is my sweetie scared?” Without even replying, he grabbed you by your shoulders and yanked you towards a side hug. “If you’re scared, why not just hide in my arms?” His breath fanned the shell of your ear, his whispers successfully creeped against the edge of your skin, causing goosebumps to rise. “I’ll make sure the ghosts leave you alone.”

ZAYNE

The idea of watching a horror movie with Zayne, betting on whoever gets spooked will end up paying for the next coffee date was a bad idea. You had underestimated that Zayne is the type to take challenges seriously, which explains the scariest movie that is being played on the television now. The jump scares—consisting of mostly loud banshee-like screeches, horrifying visuals and gory scenes—was a hard pill for you to swallow. The rules of the challenge had restricted any of you to emit any reactions to the jumpscare scenes but at this point, losing the ability to cover your ears or look away, you could only close your eyes and prayed that Zayne might not be able to catch it.

“Perhaps betting on this challenge is not a good idea.” You turned your head, now looking at the man that was sat comfortably on the couch next to you. He had changed out of his work clothes and his hair slightly tousled. “I caught you closing your eyes every time whenever a jumpscare happens.” Pouting, you crossed your arms, already knowing that there are no excuses to be made and you will have to accept the outcome of this. But, Zayne seemingly took in your disappointment. “But, I guess I did lost this challenge as I only looked at you whenever there is a jumpscare.”

XAVIER

You laid comfortably within the arms of your boyfriend, the blond bloke enjoying a movie that you have not told him anything about. Staying in and watching movies are usually something pretty common for the both of you as it saves money and promotes good quality time. As the music starts getting louder, you took a peek at your him and you nearly laughed. The man was sat there, one of his hands grabbing onto the seat handle till his knuckles had turned white. His eyes are widened, most likely in fear as he anticipated what comes next on the screen. When the jumpscare happened, he jolted, however, was silent.

“Why did you chose something like this to watch?” There comes the question you had expected. When you explained that you simply wanted to see his reaction, his ears would be tinted red, and his eyes would stray away from yours, embarrassed as he rubs his hand behind his neck to soothe himself. “I…I just don’t really enjoy horror movies.” Says Xavier, with eyes so full of guilt that you had turned off the television right away just to comfort his soul. Guess he just really does not like horror movies.

RAFAYEL

Being invited to the theatres for a premier is something you had never thought of attending. Yet again, dating a famous painter was never written in your book of fate either. Rafayel was anticipating for this premiere as he got the chance to invite you to be on the red carpet next to him, to show you off as his muse to the public. So excited till he had forgotten to tell you that this premiere is for a horror show, and it was set to win the award for a new horror genre. The anticipation starts to dissipate when the hall started to dim. “Oh shit—“ You heard Rafayel cursed under his breath before he leaned in to whisper into your ear. “I had forgotten to tell you that this is a horror movie premiere.”

Throughout the movie, it seemed like Rafayel is the one scaring you much more than the movie’s multiple jumpscares. The man would yelp out before the jumpscare even takes place. You were relieved that this premiere featured VIP seatings which are only reserved for the both of you, or else other participants of the premiere would surely be more freaked out of the legendary painter himself. “Why do they have so many of these things popping out of the screens?” And when you talked back, saying that what should be expected for a horror movie, he would only pout and said. “Puh—leaseeee, how many jumpscares do they even need for it to be a new genre of horror?”

[peppermintquartz]

I'm feeling bitchily critical today so. Let's get critical.

Reasons why Season 8 of 911 (so far) sucks:

Bobby and Athena are aimless

They have no house. The logical development is for them to look for one, one for their future. That is theirs. Where are the house hunting woes? The disageeements and compromises? Are they ever going to have a chance to find a place they both love? Or build one, even?

Athena's job description is all over the place

She's giving school talks. She's conducting traffic stops. She's escorting a prisoner across state lines. She is mentoring new officers. She's a goddamn Sergeant but what is her job scope? Every single thing requiring the presence of police, apparently!

Hen and Karen have little direction for growth

The Mara adoption issue could have brought out more of their relationship, developed them in terms of relying on each other through a difficult time. The storyline with Ortiz could have really delved into the struggles of the foster care system, and how Hen and Karen broke rules designed to protect the kids. (Seriously, if a child is removed from a foster family, it's logical not allowing the foster parents to meet the child that was removed for the safety of the child). Where was the appeal to Ortiz as a mother? Where was the struggle? Where is the tension between the Wilsons and the Hans? Instead there was a Deux Ex Gerrard. And I am not even gonna start on the whole "why didn't you take leave for Halloween" shit, that stuff should have been settled when Denny was a baby. What are their next steps? Same old same old?

Gerrard is a joke

An established bigot and racist returns. He could have been a great way to show how the 118 has grown beyond him and his bullying. Instead they're cowed by him, and lets him yell at Buck? Whatever happened to the "who cares" courage in Season 7? And he gets the reward of his dream job?

Eddie is still not healed

He emotionally cheated on his girlfriend with his dead wife's doppelganger. Has he even processed what that actually means? No! His son moved to Texas. Has he coped with the loneliness in his house? Who knows? Certainly not the audience, since we don't see him go to therapy or, hell, have a full breakdown! He confides in people who aren't his friends, let alone his so-called best friend! Bobby gave him a prayer book but we don't even hear Eddie rage at a God who keeps putting devastation and challenges in his way. What wa the point of the prayer book then? He just danced in his underwear and somehow that made him smile and now he's moving across the country and, what, giving up on his home and his job? Is that really healing, Edmundo Díaz? Or are you just running from the problem again?

Chimney has no internal or external motivation

He was providing for Mara for a few months. Was he stressed about it? Did he think about seeking a promotion for a higher salary? Also, he is an immigrant. Does that influence how he teaches Jee? Has he and Maddie, white suburban raised Maddie, ever discussed the potential problems Jee might face? Or whether they wanna include some Korean culture in Jee's education, since they gave her a Korean name? Does he ever think about any of these issues? Is he at all conflicted? What does Chimney want?

Maddie

She was the one who wanted to meet Tommy. Has she done so outside of the wedding? What was her opinion of him? Is Maddie content to stay in Dispatch in the exact same position? Has she any career ambition? And about Jee: does she never think about the Korean part of Jee? Connecting to her own culture? Learning Korean, maybe? That would have been interesting because perhaps she wants her daughter to connect to that part of her roots but Chimney doesn't, for his own reasons. Also, if she wants to have a second kid, why didn't she discuss it with Chimney outright before the pregnancy? Was she not taking the pill? Were they careless again? What would she do if Chimney didn't want a second child? Abort? Given how the first pregnancy was traumatic for the whole family, including her brother, this development is showing her to be pretty self-centered, frankly. I don't know this Maddie. She's not the same one that gave Buck her Jeep to escape, knowing that she'll be hurt by an abusive husband.

Brad

Why is airtime devoted to a character that is barely connected to the 118? What is the reason behind giving him so much focus? Is he supposed to quit acting and become a firefighter or something? What is the rationale for his existence?

.

.

And I haven't even touched on Buck or Tommy.

[greenhorizonblog]

Hard pill to swallow for the SHEIN Girlies

One of the hardest pills to swallow for regular people in regards to saving the planet seems to be that they just DO NOT want to go without any of the luxuries they have gotten used to

To those I will say: You cannot deny any longer that overconsumption is a major problem and cause of so much environmental pollution and destruction.

People always say 'oh but I'm just one person'. Yeah everyone is just one person until everyone thinks that way. People use it both to absolve themselves of any wrongdoing and to defend their apathy. It is the main logical fallacy that gets in the way of progress.

And again no, this is NOT aimed at anyone disadvantaged, in poverty or otherwise struggling, this is aimed at my fellow middle and upper class white people. Whom could so easily do the right thing but don't

We have to scale down and focus on Degrowth. I'm saying it politely now; start living more modestly now, while you still can, cause if you don't, then nature, climate breakdown and the collapse of society will force you to

GreenHorizon

Hope is the seed of progress

[viranellee]

you'd never guess (i'd never know)

synopsis: the only thing eddie roundtree likes about billy dunne is his younger sister.

warnings: smut, dirty talk, swearing, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill, but it's never mentioned)

a/n: the lack of eddie smut on here is appalling

⁠ ♡

“Where are you going?”

Frozen in your tracks, you slowly turn around and meet Eddie’s still sleepy but inquisitive gaze, and as his eyes look you over from head to toe, it morphs into a distinctive shade of lustful. You allow yourself the liberty to admire him as he does the same to you - unguarded and vulnerable in his half-awake state, the nest of tangled light brown hair on top of his head, his naked body painted with love bites underneath the white hotel sheets.

You want to kiss him.

“Sweetheart, c’mon. Come ‘ere.” He tries coaxing you, but you know the rules by now. No matter how sweet the temptation is, no matter the things his deep, husky morning voice does to your insides, no matter the way your heart threatens to beat out of your chest everytime you lay eyes on him, you need to be unfailingly secretive about this, whatever it is, between you two. Otherwise the deadly tornado of a man your brother Billy is will turn it into ruin with a single flick of his hand.

Even still, it seems that you’re the only one rightfully worried.

"Eds, I have to leave, you know this.”

Something hardens in his gaze for a moment, but it quickly slips away. It pains you to watch it. You lean down to kiss his cheek in an attempt to make him feel better, but he turns his head around, capturing your lips with his. You gasp and instinctively fist your hands into his hair as he rearranges you to sit on his lap. There’s something desperate about the way he holds you and kisses you this particular morning and it sets everything in you on fire. You moan into his kiss despite your brain screaming at you to get the fuck up and leave before anybody finds out you’re not in your room. Eddie seems to sense your overthinking, as he usually does, and slips his cold hands underneath your blouse, letting his long fingers trace your spine, trying to soothe you.

"Focus on me. Don’t think about anything else.” Eddie instructs and you suddenly feel lighter.

You kiss him again, a silent thanks for bringing you back to the present, and it’s his turn to moan as he presses you down on his hard-on.

"A couple of kisses and I’m already rock hard like a fuckin’ teenager. Jesus, the things you do to me.” He mutters, more to himself than you, but the words still manage to leave their impact on your nether regions.

“Eddie, Eddie…” you pant as his mouth begins to place greedy kisses down your neck. “We’re…we’re going to be late for breakfast.”

He laughs against your skin and you swear you’ve never felt something so good.

“I’m already having my breakfast, sweetheart, and it’s much better than the shit they serve down there.”

Fuck.

---

“Anyone got any idea where Eddie and my sister are?” Graham asks his friends, in the midst of swallowing his piece of omelet.   

Warren shrugs.

“Eddie’s probably still sleeping. I mean, when has he ever shown up for breakfast on time? Let the guy get some sleep, man.” 

Graham nods a couple of times, deeming the explanation logical. It doesn't stop him from thinking about the person left out from it.

"Yeah, sure," he starts "but my sister always shows up. I...I don't know, maybe she slept in this time, but maybe I should go up and check." 

Karen suddenly pipes in from her place next to Graham, putting her hand on his thigh. 

"Don't. For we all know, she's just sleeping in." She says, looking at Warren from across the table pointedly, who takes the hint and nods reassuringly at Graham. "And you know how she gets when someone wakes her up. Let her rest." 

"But what if she's hungry when she wakes up?" 

Karen sighs, closing her eyes for a couple of seconds. Warren inhales sharply, a tell-tale sign of him holding in his laughter. 

"Graham. She isn't an infant. I'm sure your sister is fully capable of getting breakfast for herself." She says, but he still doesn't look entirely convinced.

"Yeah, but I don't want her to be alone." Graham pauses. "I don't want her to feel lonely, y'know." 

"Hey, chill man. She and Eddie wake up around the same time anyway, they usually get breakfast together, don't they? I really don't think there's anything to worry about." Warren adds, as he takes the last bite of his P&J sandwich. 

Graham silently leans back in his chair and Karen takes the opportunity to change the subject.

"Anyway, uh, how's Lisa, Warren?" 

KAREN SIRKO: I knew she and Eddie were fucking from the moment I saw them together. 

WARREN ROJAS: For the record, I had no idea they were fucking. 

GRAHAM DUNNE: [sighs] Can we not talk about this, please? 

---

"Yeah, just like that. Fuck, you look so good bouncing on my cock like that." 

You don't know how long you two have been going at it. What you do know, however, is that Eddie Roundtree, the insatiable sex maniac, has already put you through five different positions and this is the sixth one.

"Eddie, I…I don't think I can..." You start saying as you feel your strength leaving your body, but he knows. He always knows. 

He tightens his hold on your hips and drags you up and down his cock and you have to physically put a hand over your mouth when he hits that spot inside of you. 

"Found it, huh?" He comments, with that goddamn cocky glint in his eye and you would have normally rolled your eyes at him if it weren't for the fact that they were already rolling towards the back of your head. 

"Shut...up!" You pant, and he smirks. As soon as you see that smirk, you involuntarily tighten around him. Eddie groans when he feels it and you lean down to kiss his Adam's apple, and then - him. He cups the back of your neck with one large hand and you shiver.

"I'm, I'm close. Eddie, fuck!" You barely manage to stutter out and he goes even faster, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room. He presses a sweet kiss to your collarbone and immediately goes back to whispering filthy things into your ear.

"Cum for me, love. Cum on my cock." He urges, breathless, something swimming in his eyes you've never seen before, and you do just that. 

You think you might have screamed. You don't know. All you remember is Eddie.

You hide your face in his shoulder, sensitive and exhausted - he cums shortly after, your name on his lips like a prayer. You sigh when you feel him soften inside of you. He falls back on the pillows and you fall along with him, head on his chest and his hand playing with your hair. 

It's comfortably silent after that, so silent in fact, that for a second you think Eddie might have fallen asleep. You tilt your head upwards to place a kiss on his jawline, but you find him already staring back at you, an uncharacteristically contemplative look on his gorgeous face. 

"What?" You question, growing increasingly worried. 

This is it, you think, this is when he ends things. 

My worst fear is coming true.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Y'know, I've played in front of hundreds of thousands of people. I know what anxiety feels like. But laying in that bed with her, looking at her, was the most nervous I'd ever felt in my entire life. 

"I…" He begins and closes his mouth, as if carefully choosing his words, but doing nothing to ease the pit in your stomach. "Well..." 

You stand up upright, a typical "Dunne frown", as he liked calling it, on your face. 

He should look me in the eyes, at the very fucking least. 

"Oh, is this what you're doing now? Fucking me one last time before you reject me? You've had your fun, is that it?" 

Y/N ROUNDTREE: I do admit that I... misjudged the situation. But when you've been with assholes in the past, sometimes you come to conclusions a bit too quickly. 

Eddie's face scrunches up into a mixture of shock, confusion and slight sadness.

"What?" He asks so loudly that it makes you feel embarrassed. "What in the actual fuck are you on about? Why would you even think that? Sweetheart, I was going to say I love you."  

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: I'll never forget the look on her face, swear to God. [laughs] 

"What?" You parrot back, just as loudly. It takes a beat or two for the words to sink in.  When they do, you start laughing like you've never heard anything funnier. 

Eddie simply looks at you like you've grown two heads. 

"Oh, Eds. Please don't lie to me like this." You cover your face with your hands.

Suddenly, your hands are being gently pulled away - he's staring at you so softly you think you might die. You might have actually died and this is your heaven. It certainly feels like it. 

He whispers your name and you whisper his back. 

"I love you." He says, cupping your cheeks,  and keeps repeating it as if trying to get it through your head. 

"Eddie…" you breathe against his lips. He pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb, pupils dilated like you're his new favorite drug. You might actually be. "Eddie, I lo-"

"SOUNDCHECK IS IN 30 MINUTES, ROUNDTREE, GET YOUR ASS OUT OF THE DAMN BED!"  

Fuck.

---

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: She might not have told me she loved me that day, but - [shows wedding ring] - I know. I know.

⁠♡

[actual-changeling]

crowley loves so much and so deeply, and while there can probably be made an argument that parts of that love are entirely selfish, i think it's more than that.

he sees creation as a way of giving things live, be it stars and nebulas or humans or plants, they all exist and thus have a right to live. i think the thought of his nebulas and the entire universe being shut down after 6k years didn't just make him sad because of the effort he put into it. he sees it as a living, breathing creature that deserve to exist on its own terms.

that is why he asked questions, it certainly played a role in why he fell, and it also puts him right in the moral grey zone because there's no way of thinking that humans deserve free will without questioning the black/white moral system.

having to play his part as a demon is entire counterintuitive to who he is as a person, and it's imo the reason why he barely has relationships with humans (and if he does, they go deep). the constant loss would kill his soul and in a way it already has.

"what's the point" is him having reached a point of depression and an impatience that has morphed into bitter resignation.

look at him returning to the bentley after his fight with aziraphale in episode one. he isn't just upset, he is tired.

what's the point in loving and trying to save those that he loves when over and over again he is told that no, everyone else matters more than you. fixing this is more important than finding the peace we deserve. helping someone who literally tried to kill us matters more than our love for each other. the universe will be created and then destroyed for nothing, you are breathing live into empty spaces and none of it will matter. in the end, the logical conclusion he undoubtedly came to is that he does not matter either.

he tried to find a purpose for his existence in aziraphale and their arrangement, in trying to be kind and do good despite everything - and see where that landed him.

rejected and alone because compared to heaven, he is worthless, and well if that isn't a familiar feeling.

i think aziraphale in 1862 has picked up on that and he isn't wrong when he thinks it's a suicide pill.

season 3 is going to be very, very interesting because i don't think crowley will go down some kind of rage and revenge path, he will just fall deeper into his depression until it threatens to swallow him whole.

[babygirl-riley]

Haunted Alternative Ending

You wake up in the hospital looking over to see the only person you’d hope to see.

A/N: Alright @i-love-ghost hope this is something your mind will enjoy. This is gonna be heavy of talks of suicide, if this triggers anyone don’t have to read. And if you need help call the number above. ❤️ Know there are people who love you.

“And it’s the light that’s in the air. When your chest to chest with a lover.”

Warnings: Talks of suicide, attempt suicide, depression, sad!simon, mentions of overdose, swearing, mentions of dementia

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

Pt.1 Pt.2

You felt the reach of death, almost felt like a weight off your chest. The mental and physical pain gone, you were relieved. However there was nothing but darkness. Nothing that was told of being a light or after life bullshit. You heard voices, voices that would talk about pulse change or what medicine goes where.

It didn’t hit you what they were talking about until you felt something shoving down your throat. You gagged as you felt stuff coming out of you. You were dazed as you looked around to see strangers in white shirts. Concern on their faces, red and blue lights illuminated the darkness around you. “There ya go honey, stay with us. Ya alright.” The woman said soothing you as your eyes shut once more.

The next thing you knew the heart monitor woke you up as you heard the rhythmic beating. Your body felt heavy as you tried to move your arms. Fingers. You opened your eyes to shut them from the bright lights blinding you. You moaned quietly trying to feel or see anything. You moved your fingers, feeling them fumble.

Panic serged through you, where were you? No are you paralyzed are you dead? What is happening. You tried to ask for help but came out in mumbles. You heard your heart racing through your veins to your ears. You opened your eyes again widened and frightened. The lights were harsh burning them as you shut them. A groan leaving your lips.

“Y/n,” Your heart felt like stopped. That voice. That angelic voice. You opened your eyes once more and the lights that were once bright was being covered by a large figure. The mask that cover their face. You moaned softly as your eyesight cleared to see Simon. Then it hit you, you couldn’t swallow. You teared up as you grabbed his hand that was near you. He held your hand as his head snapped up, pressing a button next to you. “Stay calm sweethear’. The nurses are coming in ‘ight,”

You heard shuffling of rushing feet as everything hit you. You were connected to machines. You started to gag as the nurses push Simon away, making you panic more. It seemed like you blacked out as you could breathe normal and the nurses calmed you down.

You looked around groggily and coughed as it felt like your throat was dry. “Don’t talk hun,” The doctor said softly. “You’ve been asleep for a bit. We will get some water. Just rest.”

When the nurses and the doctor left as they talked outside the room. You looked over at Simon who stood in the corner of the room. Your lips trembled as he just stared, both of you didn’t know how to feel. You wondered A how you got here and B why he was here. Before he could say or step in the nurses were back, asking Simon to leave so they could get you checked.

It was hours before your could talk let alone do anything else. All the drugs you took made your body feel stiff. You were lucky enough to still have movement however, it was slower than normal. Doctor said to your parents that it was cause of you being asleep to the pills. Your parents stayed for a while before they said goodbye, needing to go home but be back first thing in the morning.

You were happy due to your mom crying nonstop and the guilt replaying through your veins. You looked outside to watch snow start falling. Not only your attempted but you did it near a holiday. You didn’t realize how much you were loved and it made you feel sick to think that you would leave them in that state. You thought that it was going to be peaceful once more until you heard the familiar heavy footsteps.

You looked over at the door. Simon. You inhaled deeply. “Don’t.” Your voice was hoarse but getting better as time came by.

“‘M not,” He said quietly. “May I?”

You nodded as he walked all the way in, coming towards you. He grabbed the chair to set it next to you. Both of you didn’t say anything, he was looking at his hands as you looked at the wall. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to, I just-I just thought that no one loved me anymore.” Your voice hitched as tears welled up. “I’m so sorry I…”

Simon grabbed your hand making you look at him, his eyes having tears spilling, and looked like he had spilt some before. “No, don’t say that. Don’t say sorry. I should’ve realized you…” He stopped talking inhaling deeply. “I’m fuckin’ sorry. I-fuck I should have never kicked you out. I should have-I should have…”

You cried as you grabbed his hand and shook your head. “I never should have hit you. I crossed the line.”

Simon looked away as you heard a soft sob for a moment before he inhaled. “I deserv’ it, never should have called ya a whore. Or saying you were distant. You never did anythin’ wrong,” He mumbled shaking his head, you looked at his hands, the bruises, the dried blood around his fingers probably the habit of picking them when he got nervous. He looked at you taking his hand away and placed his finger on your cheek. “I thought ya were gone. And it kills me that it took you to almost…” He paused.

The guilt stung again making you sob. Simon stood up and leaned on you, placing his lips ontop of your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to. I knew if I got drunk enough it wouldn’t matter and-I didn’t want to die but-I was so alone. And now I just couldn’t imagine what you and my parents would be in if it worked. I’m so-I’m so fucking sorry.”

Simon kissed your head again, he held you as you sobbed and sobbed. “I will never leave ya I promise baby. I fuckin’ promise.”

You held on to the back of his neck. You closed your eyes as you hear him whisper that he will never do this again. He will love you until the day he dies. Simon will never let you go and you know of that. You always knew that he would. It was something that both of you had to work on. God you never understood until later in life of why you were alive.

Years go by that Simon was right never has he left your side. Made sure how you were doing. As you did the same as the relationship grew stronger and stronger. He did marry you and gave you children that you both love so dear. Simon loved you every step of the way, no matter what was going on.

Simon and you sat on your front porch watching your daughter playing with your grandkids. Never you would have thought that you would be here. Here with Simon. Here with your daughters. All because of chance. Chances that you wanted to live, that you were just broken and trying to piece yourself together. Chances that your boyfriend who later turned to a husband and now a father. Chances Simon did stay with you as you stayed with him.

You will always be grateful that you are alive. Even through the darkest pain and time you were able to see this. To see your life play how you always dreamed it to be.

“Lovie?” Simon said, his wrinkles more prominent. His gray hair turning into white. You smiled at him reaching for his hand.

“Yes darling.” You responded as he grabbed yours.

“Where are we?” You tried not to frown as you looked around.

“Home baby remember?” You smiled again as you hope that he would nod in agreement.

“Who are ‘em?” He asked watching his grandchild and daughter play.

“Your daughter and grandbaby my dear.” You said looking at them watching your daughter catching on as her son played around her.

You smiled at her and nodded before turning to Simon, who nodded in confusion and looked at you. “I see.” He mumbled looking at them once more.

You grabbed gripped his hand tighter, smiling lovingly at him. You will never leave him like he never left you. Even through the hardest times, he was there and now it was your turn.

Oh how grateful you are to have another chance.

[just-a-ghost00]

Which spirit animal wants to reach out?

Decks used : self made spirit animals deck, Crystals oracle deck, Below the surface oracle deck. Feedback is highly appreciated. Cover pictures were found on Pinterest.

Group 1

The spirit animal you got is the german shepherd. You could extrapolate to dogs in general, especially big ones or dogs that are generally misunderstood. What does this spirit want to help with? -> 1 Great White Shark - Go for it : strike when the iron is hot. This spirit wants to help you with decision making and acting upon your desired reality. The go-getter energy of the German shepherd is encouraging you to move forward with confidence and determination. The number one is symbolic of self and individuality. So this animal clearly wants to help you with embracing your power and expressing your sense of self. Figuring out who you are and what your place is in the big scheme of things.

-> 8 Olive Ridley Sea Turtle - Out of your comfort zone : you know what inevitably must be done. This spirit also helps you with risk taking, which seems logical. If you're gonna move forward with confidence, you ultimately have to take risks to reach your goals. A lot of work on your fears will be done. I feel like situations will be presented to you where though you may feel uncomfortable, you will want to challenge yourself and one step at a time will change the way you present yourself or react to things. For instance, let's say you tend to be a couch potato because you fear people's opinion of you. You could be making new friends that invite you to go on a trip with them. If the old you would have found an excuse not to go, the new you will consider it and find ways to make their schedule lighter so that they can have fun. You may not go all the way, like you might say "okay I'm not against going but I have to be back home by this date" or "okay I'm going but just so you know I am not comfortable with taking the plane". And so on.

How can you connect and work with this spirit? -> Turquoise - Speak your truth. Who needs it? Anyone whose voice has gone AWOL. When to use it? When you feel disconnected from the things that make you human. When you've got something to express. Of course it had to be Turquoise. Wearing this color or using the stone during recommended situations written above is one way to do it. You can also be closer to this spirit when you are being unapologetically yourself.

-> Bismuth - Rewrite your code with rainbows. Who needs it? The easily distracted, burners, people who are overly bored. When to use it? For those looking for some psychedlic influence -without taking the red pill- lie down and take ten deep breaths with Bismuth placed on your forehead. Using Bismuth is a first approach. You can also connect with them doing breath work. Rainbows can be a way for them to connect with you and let them know they are watching over you.

-> Aquamarine - Keep your cool. Who needs it? Those who run hot, fire signs, anybody hanging onto an unspoken burning desire. When to use it? When you've lost your voice. When it's past time to let it go. Or when you're feeling too en fuego for polite company, ice yourself down with Aquamarine's cold-shower vibes. Using Aquamarine could also help. Listening to your deepest desires will also make them more present in your life.

Note to user : a lot of emphasis is being put on the throat chakra in this reading. If you're constantly dealing with throat soreness, coughing, inflamation of the throat it means that there are things that need to be said. As long as you don't speak your truth, you will be struggling with those. Another thing is to learn when to speak up and when to use body language instead. Especially for those of you whose job requires to speak in public. Work on throat chakra balancing.

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Group 2

The spirit animal that wants to connect with you is the snake. It could be either sea snakes or land snakes. You could extrapolate to reptiles.

What do they want to help you with? -> 39 Moorish Idol - Unchangeable devotion : where do your loyalties lie? -> 31 Flying Gurnard - Emotions are running high : ask yourself if it is worth it. The snake spirit wishes to help you with connections, with the feeling of love and your emotions in general. They want to help you work with self love and self care. With your perception of yourself and the value you give yourself. They wish to help you identify commitments that are beneficial to you and differenciate them from those which bring you down. You may have struggled with unhealthy attachments in the past. Snake wants to free you from codependency and help you heal trauma related to intimacy.

How to connect and work with them? -> Lepidolite - Enter your chill zone. Who needs it? the perpetually frazzled, the oh-so cerebral, type-A workaholics. When to use it? When freaking out. Put your phone on do not disturb and let yourself be for five mintues. Let go of all the drama. It was not yours to begin with, anyway. Another message is coming through that the snake wants to help you with setting boundaries. Too often have you been overgiving and taking as yours responsibilities of other people. Too often have you been excusing peope's misconducts, thinking that they were meant for you. Snake wants you to be prideful and ruthless. It's like they're saying "do not let yourself be walked over". To connect with them, they want you to first detach yourself from social media and your phone in general. Then they also want you to take time for yourself, away from the drama of other people.

-> Honey calcite - Break through your limits. Who needs it? Anyone with a job to do, the brilliant but lazy, any Taurus. When to use it? When the barriers of abundance feel too big to power through. When it's time to stop waiting for your turn and stop waiting until tomorrow. Wearing honey calcite could be helpful. Putting yourself first will also make them more present in your life. They wish to say "stop waiting for others to take care of you, you are your responsibility". They tell me that a lot of you have often been in third party situations. Have always been the one that was never chosen, or chosen last. You often felt left out by others, by life. Snake is saying "take the reigns, let yourself be known and seen but most importantly don't settle for less than you deserve".

-> Meteorite - Connect to your star stuff. Who needs it? Children of the stars. When to use it? When you're looking to conduct more spiritual energy. When you're looking to connect with a friend in another galaxy. When you want to feel aligned with the universal flow. Manifesting your soul tribe would bring you closer to the snake spirit. Finding people that match your vibrations and interests. Lucid dreaming or energy work related to the stars could also be helpful. I feel like the more you will connect with this spirit, the closer you will be to meeting your counterpart.

Note to user : there's a theme here about soul connections and starchildren. But there's also an underlying energy of abuse. The energy feels heavy here and could be a bit triggering. Snake is not one to hold their tongue. They like to speak the truth, no matter how ugly it may sound, because they know you can take it. I feel like a lot of you long for deep and soulful connections. And you feel like you haven't found those and are desperate to get to meet your soulmate or your destined lover. Everything has a purpose and in due time you will be perfectly aligned with whoever you're supposed to meet. Snake is here to help you slither your way through illusion. You might want to work on your root and sacral chakras.

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Group 3

The spirit that wants to reach out to you is the Unicorn. You may extrapolate to horses.

What do they wish to help you with?-> 15 Ocellaris Clownfish - Protect your home : take care of your sacred spaces. -> 8 Olive Ridley Sea Turtle - Out of your comfort zone : you know what must be done. Unicorn is here to help with boundaries and grounding. They wish to help you see the good in you and what's around you. To tame your fears and feel more comfortable in your own skin. Specifically, Unicorn will help you love your body and nurture it. "Your body is your temple" is a saying that holds Unicorn's energy and wisdom. Unicorn wants to help with self love and self care as well. Especially if you tend to be harsh on yourself and self sabotage. For some I'm hearing something very specific : "don't make a clown of yourself, you are not a fair beast to be put in a cage and prompted to entertain". "You are not a trophee either".

How to connect and work with them?-> Carnelian - Go with your guts. Who needs it? the understimulated, anybody looking to get acquainted with their fears. When to use it ? When you find your creativity and/or sex drive on sleep mode. -> Tiger's eye - Balance your whole being. Who needs it? The currently overthinking and moodswinging, Geminis, Virgos. When to use it? When your thoughts are not your friends. When you're all roar and not enough purr. When only equanimity of mind, body, spirit, left brain and right brain can get you square with the universe. -> Amethyst - Get drunk on your highest self. Who needs it? Trainwrecks who go off the rails on the wet-and-wild route to Bacchanalia, any Pisces. When to use it? When it's time to give up the victim routine and start living with purpose. Wearing one or a combination of those three crystals will help you channel Unicorn's energy. Wearing pinks, purples, oranges and yellows. Tuning into your sensuality and doing creative work is another way to connect with their energy. Going to therapy or working with any spiritual practitionner to figure out your purpose in life. Doing Ikigai or holding a self growth journal. Using writing prompst to shed light onto your shadows.

Note to user : to me the unicorn is a symbol of the LGBTQIA+ community. If you have been struggling with your sexual and gender identity / preferences, Unicorn spirit is here to help you with figuring out where do you lie on the spectrum. Speaking of spectrums, it can also help you with anything close to ASD or mental illnesses. If you were hesitating to make your coming out, Unicorn will give you a nudge. It might sting a little. You might want to work on your heart, crown and third eye chakra.

[10yrratiolover]

Hello! I hope you're doing well! 😁 Ratio question for you on this fine day, provided you haven't talked about it already (sorry if you have!)

In your opinion, do you think he's still trying to get into the Genius Society? Or has he resigned himself to the idea that it won't happen? And if so, what do you think he feels about the whole thing now? I imagine it have been hard for him to accept if so.

Hi! I think I mentioned my thoughts on him and the Genius Society in passing in one of my posts but I've never really gone too into detail on it.

So, I believe it was in my character stories post that I said this

Which does pretty much capture my thoughts on him sort of giving one final attempt to prove himself worth of the GS and instead receiving a letter from the IPC.

However I will absolutely go more into detail on what I believe his thoughts on the GS to be.

So, I believe that deep down Ratio was always at least somewhat aware of the fact that he wouldn't get into the GS, though as I stated in my character story post I don't think he truly swallowed that pill until he received that letter from the IPC.

Ratio knows himself well and it's easy to tell that he sticks out from the members of the GS (that we know of), not only in just his achievements and research, but who he is and how he acts. He was always subconsciously aware of the fact that he perhaps cared too much about people, but individuals and humanity as a whole.

His Planetary Weapon was a last ditch attempt of sorts to try and prove that he too can seek knowledge without taking life into account, though the letter he did receive made him realize that wasn't the type of person he wanted to be.

(There's a wonderful post by @/overdressedcarp that incapsulates my thoughts on the Planetary Weapon in much better words and I'd recommend reading that as well!)

I think a deeper part of him may still hold onto a bit of hope that he still can make it, however he's mostly forced himself to drop the ambition.

This heavy rejection would certainly brew a lot of conflicting emotions, especially considering getting into the GS has likely been a goal for years for him. I believe Ratio wouldn't have the greatest skills with emotional regulation considering most of his life has been centered around logic and things that tend to be black and white, yes or no. Emotions are confusing, complicated, and often they don't have one solid answer.

I think he may have been bitter for a while afterwards, not towards the GS who he holds a very high amount of respect for given his interactions with them, not even towards Nous, but towards himself and how soft-hearted he is beyond the hard-stone of his alabaster head. Bitter is the best word I can think of if I had to only use only one. Melancholic, spiteful, depressed, I can imagine his students noticed he was a bit snappier following this event.

[writing-whump]

Sol, from the sickfic prompts, can I have Isaiah + "Can you please come home? I feel really bad…" where he's the one saying this? I wonder how bad things would have to be for him to admit needing others?

Feverish and stubborn

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" Matthew asked for the umpteenth time that morning.

Isaiah smiled at his insistence, internally cringing. He wanted Matthew safely gone so he could collapse in peace.

He had been feeling off since morning. Some kind of exhaustion, making him feel heavy to the bones and tired. Truly, he just needed sleep. He slept only a few hours every day, too busy and fascinated by some kind of assignment or homework or getting calls about lost pups, angry pack representative doing this or that. If he didn't get a job, that part of his life would swallow him whole.

Matthew eyed him suspiciously. "The pack is super friendly and they specialize in that human fighting thing without shadows, that you approve so much. They wouldn't mind me bringing you over."

Seline was at her parents during the weekend and Matthew had a guilty look on for leaving Isaiah alone as well, for a boxing meet between wolves. Isaiah was happy for him. Matt was finding his niche, friends through his interests. His confidence would grow from it, Isaiah was sure.

"I'm sure. I have homework to catch up to and I do not mind being alone. I have been living that way for the last 6 years, in fact."

Matthew bit his lip, scanning him one last time. "I'll text you the address in case you change your mind."

Isaiah rolled his eyes. "Shoo. Go already."

Matthew grinned sheepishly, threw his bag over his shoulder and left.

Finally.

Isaiah dropped the happy mask at once, sitting down on the couch. He just felt so tired. Huddling into the blanket where he sat, not pressed to go hide in his room or pretend to function at 8 am, he lied down right there, quickly asleep.

***

Isaiah woke up 3 hours later to violent shivers through his body. He was freaking freezing. His hands and legs were frozen solid, he was trembling under the blanket. Even his nose was stinging from the cold. Did he leave the windows open or something?

He wiggled his head towards the clock and the windows and the balcony but everything was shut. Maybe he should get under the covers, they were thicker, but the idea of leaving the little warmth he had under the blanket made him curl up into it.

He would need to make a run for it, but he needed to gather his strength first.

It was only after that ridiculous thought that it struck him he must be feverish. The only logical explanation.

He shivered some more, mentally playing the short walk to his bed for five times, before finally standing up. Blanket still around his shoulders, he wanted to dash to the bedroom, except his bones felt like someone filled them with broken glass. He felt fragile, unsteady, like he was about to bend over and collapse on his feet. Ow.

Finding his slippers, he made his way to the bathroom instead, taking the big bathrobe against the cold. He leaned against the sink, daring a peek at himself.

Yeah. He was pasty white, giant circles under his eyes like he didn't sleep for weeks instead of the last few hours, and he sweated through his shirt, although he was still shivering.

He was also feeling vaguely nauseous. Not sure if it was from not eating or from the fever or because this flu came with a stomach bonus.

How annoying.

Isaiah felt a little better in the bathrobe, so he devised a plan of not having to get up again for the next two days.

He gathered a jar filled with water, a glass, biscuits, thermometer, some pills and a basin for good measure. He didn't eat much for dinner and nothing for breakfast, he was empty, but his stomach felt tense and sore. Better not risk it.

With his supplies steady on his nightstand, he hunted down thick woolen socks and new PJs. Closing the curtains on the window to not be bothered by the sun, he changed and climbed into his bed with the bathrobe on. No harm done, he would sleep this off.

He took his temperature. 38.4. Yeah, maybe the ibuprofen wouldn't be a bad idea. He took half a biscuit, grimacing at the taste before he took the ibuprofen against the fever and dived under the blankets in relief.

He was shaking until he warmed up the air underneath the covers, but he felt proud of himself for being responsible and sweating this out like an adult.

***

Three more hours later, Isaiah was ready to be better already.

The thermometer showed 39.5 as if the ibuprofen didn't help at all and he was constantly shivering like he was exposed to the Antarctic air.

Not to mention he was starting to feel really nauseous from the fever. His stomach didn't hurt or protest another medication, so he could tell the fever was doing it. The nausea was a slimy presence at the back of his throat, around his teeth and jaw. He took deep breaths against it, shutting his eyes, trying to relax and will himself to sleep.

When he closed them though, all he could see were images of his work as the Executioner or his Father's voice admonishing other pups that wolves didn't get sick. Yeah, getting sick was a luxury. Taking a day off, being able to stay in bed, being able to be so open about it. Isaiah had all the luxury now, so he should be fine. Nothing to complain about.

Other times, his feverish brain made a list of people he would have liked to be here if he dared to call them. Sonny saw him sick from time to time and always knew what to do. Very matter of fact mature presence.

Arnie would probably come if Isaiah asked. Would bring him medicine and worry for him, talk his ear off into sleep so Isaiah wouldn't have to hear his own buzzing thoughts.

Matthew and Seline would come. Matt wouldn't know what to do, but he would be adorable in his efforts. He would probably sit beside him in bed, turn on some Netflix show on their TV in the room and wake him up with exclamations when something funny or angering happened in them.

He dreamed about Seline saying he was okay, keeping track of his temperature and calling him something nice, like darling or sweetheart. The idea made Isaiah sniffle, curling into himself under the covers. How pathetic was he, to imagine something like that?

The fever must be making him delusional. To imagine it would demand his roomates to be here, when he was a completely normal functioning adult who could handle a little fever.

It was a very rude one at that, not wanting to climb under 39.3, even after the second dose of medication.

Isaiah made himself drink some of the water, which made him reach for the basin and gag over it for a cruelly long time, but nothing came up. He curled up around it, breathing harshly as he drifted back to sleep.

***

Next time he woke up to the feeling of liquid in his throat.

Isaiah shot to towards the basin immediately, gagging over it, before a few drop of blood fell on the surface instead.

His nose was bleeding, that's what he could taste at the back of his throat.

Ah damn, he had no paper towels on the night stands. What a stupid thing to forget.

His heart was also beating really fast. Isaiah turned to lie on his back, pinching the bridge of his nose. The nausea was drowning him, his heart thumped painfully against his ribs, the only force left in his body and he was going to make a mess on his sheets with the nosebleed.

For some reason the last part made him want to cry.

He was so glad he was sick with something else but his heart episodes for a change and now the fever might initiate one for him. Or was the nosebleed from the fever?

The more he lied there, the stronger the blood was running, flowing freely down his face and throat. He felt like he was choking on it.

He heaved over the bucket at the taste again, strained over it with no relief for several minutes, face all wet and slimy from the red liquid.

Isaiah slid down from the bed, the basin and covers in his lap. The shivers doubled immediately. He hugged himself, rocking back and forth. He couldn't remember when was the last time he felt so rotten. And if he didn't calm down, he would cause himself a heart episode no less.

Feeling utterly pathetic and ashamed, he reached for his phone, dialing the number he had been craving for the whole day.

Seline picked up on the second ring. "Isaiah, hey!"

Isaiah cringed, the joy in her voice when she said his name squeezing his chest in longing. "H-hey...."

"I was just telling my mom about the theater show we were going to? If we like it, I could get them tickets and next time we could- Isaiah? Is something wrong?"

He could hear voices in the backround, a female and a male and Seline answering something back in Slovak.

"I just..." Isaiah sniffled against the blood clogging his nose, cupping his hand over it to catch some of the mess. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Wait, hold up a sec." The noise of a chair being pushed back as Seline got up and left the kitchen. "Isaiah, talk to me. What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"I'm sorry. C-can you please come home? I feel really bad..." He hated what he was asking. She was an hour away by train, enjoying her weekend with her parents and he was calling for her like a child.

"Oh sweetheart," Seline voice dropped to lowest, sweetest, softest coo. "I'm on my way, okay? Dad will take me to the station, it's 4.30 right now...that means the train at 5.15 should be doable by car...I'll be there at 6.15...Anything I can bring you? What's wrong exactly?"

Isaiah sniffed pitifully. "I don't...I- it's just the fever won't go down and I feel sick and now there is blood everywhere-"

"Blood? What do you mean blood?" She said in alarm.

"'s nothing, just my nose is bleeding for some reason."

"Okay, okay, okay. Everything is going to be fine, you hear? I'll be there as fast as I can."

***

Isaiah woke up on the floor, throat and nose clogged up with dried blood, covers and bathrobe covered in it, shivering and sweaty.

None of that mattered, because he was greeted by the nicest sight he could wish for.

Seline was crouching next to him, jacket half open, frowning in concern.

Isaiah looked at the watch. 5.30 pm. "You made it early," he croaked.

"Dad drove me all the way here. Better than the trains." Seline cupped his cheek with her hand, lifting his face towards her to study him.

"Is he still here? I should-"

"You should nothing," she interrupted sternly. "The nosebleed stopped? Can you get up on the bed?"

"No...I'll make a mess like this." He pointed at his face.

"Is that why you are on the floor? Honey, the sheets can be washed, that's not a reason for you to sleep on the carpet."

Isaiah focused in her voice. She still changed the pet names frequently, like she couldn't settle on her favourite one. He loved it.

Seline's hands on his face felt divine, even though they were way too cold. He shivered under her touch, breath hitching.

"Okay, arm up. We will take your temperature, while I get something to clean you up with, alright?" She put the thermometer under his arm, kissing him on the forehead before leaving.

Isaiah closed his eyes, shivering under the sudden heaviness of her absence.

"Okay, come on, sweetie. Back in the bed." She was really insistent on that, huh?

Seline grabbed his arm and pulled and he followed, standing up and then falling back on the bed with a moan.

"What is it?" Seline sat down next to him with a wet towel and a bunch of those soft paper towels for colds.

"Ugghh. My skin hurts."

"Your skin?"

"Yeah. It's like broken glass all over," he whined.

Seline shook her head. "Your fever is super high, I can tell all the way from here. It's okay. It will pass." She took the towel and started to clean the dried blood on his face.

Isaiah winced at the coldness, but she was so gentle, he couldn't protest.

"I got you all the good stuff. Best rehydration drink ever," she said with a small smile, taking his thermometer, scowling at it without comment, and putting it away.

"I feel nauseous. Not sure I can drink," he said tiredly, closing his eyes. It wasn't his concern anymore. She could decide what he could and couldn't do.

"Just a few spoons, okay? It will really help with the fever. There. Face all clean. It really bled a lot, huh?" Isaiah didn't dare to glance at the ruined towel, but the wet skin left in its wake was stinging with cold. The feeling of cleanness comforted him.

Seline put another, bigger towel soaked in cold water around his forehead and neck. He hissed at the touch, but she took his hand in hers. "I know, I know. But this will help, darling. Please, trust me."

He squeezed her hand back, propped up on the pillows and closed his eyes.

"Open your mouth, sweetie."

Isaiah squinted at her. She really sat there with a mug of transparent liquid in her lap and was offering him a spoon of that salty smelling water.

He sighed but obeyed, letting her spoon feed him four times, before he pressed his lips together as he waited for his stomach's reaction. It sloshed angrily inside him, a cramp making him double over.

Seline's hand was cupping him his face immediately, her lips on his forehead murmuring something into his ear.

He breathed harshly, melting against the contact, then curled up at his side. "No more."

"Okay. That's enough for now. Such a good job. You will be up and about in no time."

Seline put the mug away, patting his face, readjusting the cold towel on his forehead, before standing up.

"Sel?" He whined, afraid she would leave. "Stay? Please?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

She cluttered with some of the things on his bedside table, before switching off the lamp and climbing into the bed beside him.

He shifted closer on his side, and she pressed herself against his back, arm around his chest. He took the hand in his, curling it against his heart like a talisman.

"It's beating really fast," she said softly.

"Hmmm. I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologising?" She said in disbelief, voice going higher with emotion.

Isaiah's throat closed up. "I'm sorry I called, I-"

She lifted herself up to loom over him. "You can always call me. I'm glad you called me." Her voice suddenly grew more heated. "No, in fact, you have to call me, when you feel bad like this. How long has this been going on? Why were you alone and not telling me sooner?"

Isaiah blinked in the dark, taken aback.

"When you get better, I'm gonna kill you, you hear? You feel off or like you are coming down with something, you are supposed to tell me before you black out from a fever with a nosebleed. You tell me immediately. I don't care if I'm on the other side of Europe, I'll come."

Isaiah swallowed, eyes burning, heart somewhere in his throat. "I didn't want to be a both-"

"I forbid you from having such thoughts," she said indignantly. "You are never a bother. You matter to me, Isaiah, do you understand that? When you are hurting in secret, alone, away from me, you are hurting me. You want to let me bleed out by not telling me of the wound?"

Isaiah didn't know what to say to that, eyes wide in the dark.

"You don't have to toughen it out," she said more gently, palm on his cheek, caressing it with one finger. "Let me take care of you. It's the least you can do, when part of me is hurting there with you."

Isaiah took in a shaky breath, chest hurting from her words. It hurt, it hurt to face such proclamations, such absolute belief they were true. "You are so bossy," he said, voice wavering on a sob.

Seline pressed herself closer to him still, spooning him, tangling their legs together. "Shhhhh. Yeah. You better get used to it."

[prettyyoungandbored]

Be Careful

Pairing: Johnny Knoxville x Reader

Warnings: language, slight fluff, female reader, idk

Author’s Note: I have no business writing this, but I did. So yeah.

NOT MY GIF

The alarm clock read 1:15 A.M. as Y/N exhaled softly.

Her eyes darted back to the television where some black and white movie played. She was half paying attention to it, her mind elsewhere and eyes mostly shifting between the clock and her cell phone.

She was invited to go to the bar with the guys, but she declined, exhausted from spending the day organizing their medical records. She shouldn’t have offered, but considering how frequent the trips to the hospital were, she figured it would be useful for each of them to have a binder that contained important medical documents in the event of an emergency.

Jeff was beyond thankful for it and she was happy to help considering Johnny wouldn’t let her do any stunts lately.

Even though Johnny was a pro at what he did, she still worried. Going through his medical binder was a kick in the stomach for her. His was the most personal considering he was her fiancé. She often worried when she got calls from the guys if it was going to be that “one call.” When they called “action” and she watched Johnny begin, she said a mental prayer begging for him to make it out alive.

The door opened and Johnny appeared, smiling.

“Hey there, cutie,” he greeted her, before bending down to untie his red converse. “Thought you’d be asleep.”

“I tried but just couldn’t seem to keep them closed,” she said, reaching over to turn the light on for him. “Did you guys have fun?”

“Sure did,” he replied, throwing off his jacket and tossing it onto the chair in the corner. “You know how it is. I wish I could say you didn’t miss much, but we spent the night helping get Tyler the PA laid.”

She cracked a smile. “It’s the least you boys could do considering you made him mud wrestle Bam.”

He laughed. “That was the logic.”

He pulled down his jeans before crawling into bed beside her in his boxers and graphic tee. He propped his elbow up, resting his cheek against the palm of his hand.

“I really did miss you tonight,” he said, using his other hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I was a little bummed you didn’t come out with us.”

“I know.” She exhaled. “Honestly, I just needed to decompress.”

“Seemed like you were having an off day,” he noted. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I know you know what you’re doing and I trust you,” she said. “It’s important to me that you know that. It’s just, going through your medical records was a hard pill for me to swallow. I get worried that one prank will be one that either kills you or leaves you with some permanent injury or that these injuries eventually…”

She paused, realizing how pathetic she sounded. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I-.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” he said. “I’m fucking serious. Don’t.”

“No but-.”

“No - hey, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”

She opened her eyes to find him smiling at her. The same smile that made her weak in the knees when she first saw it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “I know it’s a lot for you, and I can’t thank you enough for standing by me and putting up with this shit even when it’s hard to deal with.”

“It’s not that I deal with it. It’s just me getting worried because I love you.” She gave him a small smile. “I told you I’m not going anywhere and I meant it. No amount of concussions or broken limbs or any other injuries is gonna change that. All I ask that you be careful, ok?”

“I will,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. “But only because I think you’re cute.”

She snorted. “That’s the only reason, huh?”

He nodded. “Pretty much. It’s really the only reason I’m marrying you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then I guess it’s ok for me to say I’m only marrying you because the sex is great.”

He shrugged. “Works for me. Now, c’mere.”

He pulled her body under his, peppering her face with quick kisses. “Just one more week then you and I head off to Vegas.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“Never. I’m all in, baby.” He pulled his head back for a sec. “Are you?”

“Not a chance, Clapp. I’m in it for the long haul.” She paused. “Unless, of course, I decide to marry the Elvis impersonator instead. I’ll figure it once we get there.”

[forpiratereasons]

meeting stede bonnet

a slow meandering through June. first day, first prompt: sunlight

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | day 9 | day 10

-

There was a thought Stede had never thought before.

He’d suspected it was there for a long time, honestly—he’d caught it before, here and again, hovering in the corners of his eyes. He’d been very good at looking away. He’d been looking away since the divorce six months ago, or maybe for every day of the twelve-year marriage itself. Or—maybe for a lifetime. Depended on how you looked at it, he supposed.

But now it was here. The day. The day, the day he was going to finally let himself think it.

If I wake up on June the 1st and I know, I’ll really know.

He’d taken two sleeping pills around nine. Didn’t want to stay up waiting for it. Didn’t want to shatter the fragile thought under the pressure.

Stede’s alarm went off as scheduled. Freddie Mercury’s voice belted through the room, big, breaking free.

The sun was already shining. He’d left the curtains open the night before; he’d wanted the light first thing. He’d wanted to wake up already soaked in all that warm, beautiful light, and now here he was.

It was suddenly so easy.

I’m gay, Stede thought.

The next breath shuddered into Stede’s lungs, rough and unexpected, like he’d never taken a breath before in his life. He knew.

He’d always known.

As a boy, picking flowers, running from kids who’d already known there was something different in him—as a teenager, smoking his first cigarette, avoiding the gaze of the girl who’d lit it for him—as a man, holding Mary’s hand in their wedding bed and swallowing against the crush in his ribs that told him every reason he ought to love her, like he could force the logic of her into the heart hiding underneath—he’d known.

I’m gay, Stede thought again.

He had sort of thought he might feel different. Or might—be different, somehow. But no, not really: he got up on the same side of the bed he’d always slept on. Showered the way he’d always showered, dressed the way he’d always dressed. Fixed his hair the way he’d always fixed his hair. Drank the protein shake for breakfast he’d always drunk.

He was still himself. He’d always been.

June the 1st, he repeated to himself, standing in the kitchen, tapping his fingers on a little brown paper package that had come from Etsy three days ago. Bit like a birthday, maybe. The start of something new.

One manicured fingernail slipped under the tape on the package. The sun was in Stede’s eyes as he whittled along the length of the flap, undoing the tape bit by bit. Cloudless day. The sunlight stung.

The contents of the package clinked on the granite when it fell out.

Stede counted to three. Then he counted to ten. Then he counted to fifty, and finally he counted to a hundred and thought, come on, then. You’re gay. Be gay about it.

He looked down. On the worktop was a small enamel rainbow pin.

Just a pin. Gold backing. He’d spent ages looking for one that matched Gilbert Baker’s original flag, with the pink and the aqua. A progress Pride pin was coming too, but for this day, for the first day, he’d wanted the first flag.

For something so tiny, it carried so, so much.

It took a minute to undo the backing with trembling fingers. Punching the pin through the fine fabric of his shirt—white, which he never wore, but he wanted the pin to really stand out—felt like releasing something inside himself that had been building for years and years. Like lancing a wound. Like the first sharp, hot moment of healing.

“All right,” he said out loud, forcing himself to pass the mirror in the hall without stopping to look, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. His heart was pounding under the weight of the pin; his hand was sweating where it’d settled on the handle of his front door.

It was a fifteen minute walk from here to the bookshop on the wharf. Stede was going to walk it, and open the shop, and wear the pin. He was going to let people see.

Just a fifteen minute walk from here to the rest of his life.

He took a deep breath.

He stepped out into the light.

[ac-liveblogs]

you know i think the only recent development with jason i've actually liked is the hint that, kidding or not, the joker considers jason his son in some way, like he's just as responsible for the 'birth' of the red hood as batman is.

and like. it's true! he is! joker taking pride in creating a weapon (loose cannon it may be) that psychologically shatters batman makes sense! and it's absolutely horrifying in a way that i wish was used to fuck with jason, and scare bruce, more!

jason is a meticulous and logical planner with a large skillset, like batman. jason is also a manipulative sadist, like the joker. having him weave in and out as ally, rival and enemy, embodying both of them at different points in the narrative, is a goldmine that DC unfortunately passed up by making him an angsty anti-hero in the New52.

(i didn't care for the way grant morrison wrote jason, but he did seem aware of this possibility. morrison's jason horrendously unfashionable ensemble merged design elements of the joker and batman far more obviously (the commitment to the original pill helmet + a more traditional 'superhero' suit with batman's boots, logo and cape but an inverted mostly white colour scheme).

additionally, sasha as scarlet brings both robin and harley quinn to mind - a younger student and sidekick, as well as a severely mentally ill young girl who has been manipulated by a predatory man and then styled herself after her partner (right down to her name; scarlet riffs on the red hood the same way harley quinn is themed after the joker, where robin was purely of dick's creation and drew on his own heritage).

jason and sasha were an intentional foil to dick and damian - 'alternate heroes' making use of social media and soaking in as much attention as possible in contrast to batman and robin sticking to the shadows. where nightwing named himself after kryptonian myth, a symbol of hope (connecting him not just to batman, but to superman), jason names himself for the man that dragged him into the muck. it's great! these two as enemies is fantastic! (and also probably set a precedent that makes deciding tim's new superhero identity extremely difficult)

this may also be what inspired lobdell to give red hood the red bat on his chest in the new52, but given the way jason got that suit i don't think that was the intention necessarily - though the idea of jason as the joker's intentional successor in some way was definitely on his mind given the events of jason's zero year chapter, so i guess we can thank him for that.)

i think it's one of the reasons i like jason's white streak so much. it's an interesting and unique design element that sets him aside from the other bats, but personally it reminds me of joker falling into the vat of acid at ACE chemicals. just as the joker was reborn as a new person, physically changed forever, so too was jason todd in the waters of the lazarus pit.

(my favourite design element in gotham knights is the addition of a glasgow smile to jason todd, the implication being that the joker carved it there. rather than the 'J' on his face from arkham knight that marks him as property, the smile makes it seem like the joker was in some way trying to make jason 'like him'.)

obviously, its nicer if jason manages to avoid becoming a raving lunatic like the joker and doesn't conform to batman's ideology - straddling the line is probably the ideal for his character design, but an eventual awareness of the fact he's doing that would be so goddamn interesting.

all this to say: i miss batman reborn :( i wish it had more time to cook :( please make jason an antagonist again he's more fun that way :(

[sprnklersplashes]

Q with Jdronica 🫶🏻

Here's the thing with JD getting sick; he likes to power through it. Pretend he doesn't feel it, keep calm and carry on, insist that his immune system is as unbreakable as the rest of him,

Here's the other thing about JD being sick; Veronica sees right through it. It's been two years, after all. She knows him like the back of her hand. If he thinks he can still bullshit her when she has explored every inch of his body... he's nowhere near as smart as he thinks he is.

Especially when she comes over on Saturday morning to see him hunched over the kitchen sink with his hands clasped behind his neck. She lingers in the doorway, watching as he scrunches his face, buries his fingers in his hair. The pained breath lingers in the air, twisting Veronica's heart in ways she didn't expect.

Her steps are light as she crosses the kitchen, cushioned by the maroon rug Claire bought at a yard sale last spring. She clears her throat just before approaching him, the sound as tentative as her steps. It still makes him jump, and he turns at a speed that makes Veronica wince.

He blinks twice, swallows thickly. Then, he gives his best approximation of an "everytning's normal" smile.

"Ronnie," he says. He runs a shaky hand through his hair. "Didn't know you were coming over."

"What's up?" she asks him instead of replying. She watches as he straightens up, inhales slowly through his teeth. One hand is wrapped tightly around the kitchen counter, the knuckles white as if he's holding everything in that one hand.

"I'm f-"

"Jason, if you say 'I'm fine', I'll smack you so hard," she tells him. His mouth opens, the closes without a sound, eyes widening slightly before he leans back into the counter. Guilt prickles in her chest as she notices the pallour of his cheeks, how he doubles over slightly against the pain in his stomach. She brushes her fingers against his, silently, softly, whispering "I'm sorry" without words. It works; a tiny hint of a smile flickers on his face.

"I may or may not have food poisoning," he sighs. "That's the conclusion I've come to anyway. That or I'm pregnant."

"Oh I use a condom and you're on the pill." He barks a laugh at that, although it's quickly undermined by a pained whimper. Logic tells her that it's fine, that it's just a bad stomach and in 24 hours she'll be laughing with him about it. But another part of her, the part that's bundled up with him, feels like that's too far away.

"Okay buckaroo." She presses a kiss to his hair and grabs the glass of water on the counter. "Couch. Now."

"Veronica, I'm-"

"What did I say about the F word?" she asks. She glances him over again and grabs crackers from the cupboard. Then she turns, raises her eyebrow and gestures with the glass. "Coach. Now."

"Yes ma'am," JD mumbles. He trails Veronica into the living room, dragging his hand over his face as he goes. Despite his attempts at putting up a fight, he all but collapses onto the couch, knees pulled to his chest in an attempt to make the pain stop. As she places the water and crackers on the table beside him, she sees him biting the skin on his thumb, face tight so it doesn't show how much pain he's in.

It's a classic JD thing. Sometimes she wonders if he's aware she's doing it.

"Sorry I ruined your Saturday," he says weakly. Veronica just shrugs and curls up next to him, so close that his sock-clad feet tickle her legs.

"I didn't have anywhere else to be," she tells him. "Just remember that if you puke, do not do it on me. I like this skirt."

"I bought you that skirt."

Veronica sighs, hiding her grin in her hand. Something settles in her chest, warm and gentle and peaceful. God, she loves this boy. She's going to spend the rest of her life with this boy.

For now though, she just scratches his back and watches him sip water.

"Yeah. You did." JD chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the couch.

"I've got good taste."

(Definitely spending the rest of her life with him)

"Yeah. You do."

tip me on ko-fi (completely optional)

[unending-everchanging-thoughts]

I hope this finds someone who will enjoy it. This is the first time I’m sharing my work. It’s a personal essay about a friends suicide attempt so go in eyes open. But please enjoy!! (1,164 words)

September, 1st 2022. 12:00 Pm

The wind blows lazily through the leaves. The side door of my highschool opens, I turn and there walking out the outside stairs is a ghost. Short, scrawny, and almost blending in with the backdrop. There is no real indication that he is dead—no floating feet, no translucent skin, not even a cold draft. Even without all the tell tale signs, I’m sure that this is nothing more than an elaborate illusion. But the image didn’t change, his form didn’t flicker. Everything seemingly stopped, stuttering like a scratched CD. Caught in a moment of madness, I found myself (possessed by sheer shock) running toward him in elation. I threw my arms around him, holding him closely, hoping he wouldn’t in fact slip through the cracks in the concrete. My arms made contact! The ghost was real and he was here! I must have manifested his life back into reality.

Truthfully, there was no magic needed to teether his soul back to the soil. He had never been dead. But to me he must have crawled from the ground to come here. I clutched his corpse, crouched at the side of his casket, cried over his freshly covered grave all within the tangled confines of my frantic imagination. My mind witnessed all of this, but on the outside his departure was nothing more than an ambulance ride to a nearby hospital.

At the time, turning him over to the proper authorities seemed a logical solution to him popping so many pills that his pupils disappeared. If only I had known that the moment he slid into the back of the red shiny van I would become captivated by nightmares of corpses, haunted by his ghost. No deity warned me of the inevitable months of missing him that would be brought on by my juvenile attempts at making him more than a martyr. No release form to inform me that emotional trauma would be brought on by my choices. I had no idea that I would spend years gripped by the grief. What are you supposed to do when your friend attempts suicide? When your world stops turning? When phones go silent? When voices are quieter than the screaming in your mind? Do you let your friend die alone on the bathroom floor? Crush their dreams into white powder and pour it down the drain? Do you follow the proper procedure and call the police? How do you handle the choice between saving a life or letting them die with dignity? Allowing a friend to pass on or risking the rage when they awaken?

6Am September, 1st 2022.

The sheets of my bed have become rotten after weeks of decomposing within them. Bread crumbs have built up like sand castles and water cups create wells filling my shelves. Tears have become my cheeks’ constant companions. Bags have taken up residence under my eyes. Clothes have become crumpled at the bottom of mountains. My mirror which usually lays compliments onto my skin has begun to strip off layers of my self esteem.

Mornings are no longer markers of new adventure. My school uniform sits on me like a straight jacket, my book bag leaves a rope burn on my shoulders, toast is stopped by clots of despair that fill up my throat. School which once seemed like a sanctuary now suffocates me. The English teacher asks for assignments now weeks overdue, my math teacher mumble about my general disinterest, and people seem to leer at me from the hallways of their happy lives.

I had seen the effects of untimely deaths. Posts on instagram have fluided my for you page proclaiming remorse for a life half lived. I had heard my mothers cries when her friend decided to die. Seen flowers fluiding over the side of bridges. I had heard how hard it is people when someone they love attempts suicide. However, I never felt the full, undiluted magnitude of that sentiment until I found myself perched on the edge of a desk, staring at a suicide hotline number written by a teacher, wondering if maybe 988 on a white board would have saved him. I now walk through life like a phantom drifting between memory and moment. Wandering the rooms of my school like a spirit frantically searching for something, someone, anything.

I wish to wallow in the space where I still had him, where he wasn’t gone. I see him in lockers and staircases. I constantly picture his face in the math room, where I had taken his portrait. I glimpse him in conversations, knowing what he would say or in the way that he would raise his hand. I spot him in the chemistry classroom glaring at me after a long forgotten argument, in the walls he once leaned against, in the place he first broke my heart. My highschool, my mind, my life are all haunted by the spirit of someone who didn’t die. An experience of grief without the marker of a tombstone introduced me to this limbo state, a space between grief and gratitude. All I have as a reminder are a few fragile memories. There was no indication that this day would be more than a continuation of my misery. But today, the memory decided to materialize right in front of me. He came back. but not to me.

Almost a month and a half after my best friend had been carried off the face of the earth in a whirl of red and white lights, I saw him. On the grass I hunched, shrinking myself to fit into the cohort I was seemingly a part of. Their conversations rang dull in my ears as my mind was on something more meaningful. Even once I caught sight of him descending the stairs, the sun forming a glorious halo over his head, I was unable to pull myself out of the grief that had grown within his absence. When I wrapped my arms around him, the embrace felt empty. The apparition was real but I was unable to make contact. He was there but I was not. Even as I pulled out my phone to capture the moment I was unable to place myself back in his presence. I reached for his hand, holding it gingerly, hoping that gesture would weigh me down. He smiled at me but depression trapped in a locket wrapped with a noose around my neck stopped me from smiling back. The once pupiless eyes looked at me sadly, seeing the pain that I didn’t deserve to designate with words. Upon my silence the ghost turned to the girl seated next to me. She dropped her eyes to him seeing the face of a beautiful boy, but not one brought back from the dead. To her, his homecoming was a plot point and not a whole novel. She made connections with the living while I was stuck sitting with the dead.