#look I made a stupid low quality meme again

[dragoncall]

#piss off piss off piss off #I knew it was never gunna happen but STILL I AM CRUSHED #look I made a stupid low quality meme again #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #bradley james #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin emrys #merlin x arthur #colin Morgan #Morgana pendragon #katie mcgrath #Gwen #gwenivere #angel coulby #Guenevere

[siickwithsadness]

posting this for anyone who doesn't have AO3 <3

this is from last month and it's a bit of a shitpost so I wanted to post this before I get to the good stuff. enjoy!

Disgust rolled her eyes at Joy as she watched the yellow emotion break down in another laughing fit as Riley watched various TikTok videos of poorly-made memes such as cats meowing to the beat of the music and manipulated videos of Burger King commercials with low-quality music in the background for the umpteenth time this week. Ever since Riley was given permission to download the app, Joy had made sure to save every single video she found even slightly humorous to Riley's phone- which, considering that she bursts out laughing when leaves fall on the ground, was a pretty long list.

Disgust covered her ears as Joy's laughing reached a crescendo, and the rest of the emotions soon followed suit.

"Oh my god Joy, it is NOT that funny" Disgust hissed, backing out of the way as Anger flared up and Fear jumped three feet in the air in shock.

Joy pulled herself off the floor and composed herself, turning to face her. A wide grin spread across her face. "Oh come on! It might be stupid, but it's funny! Have some fun and quit being so uptight!"

Disgust huffed in annoyance, crossing her arms. "You can have as much "fun" as you want, as long as you don't shatter my eardrums with your incessant laughing."

It was Joy's turn to roll her eyes this time, ignoring her as she propped her elbows on the console and turned back to the screen.

Riley scrolled to another video. This time a picture of a loaf of bread spun in circles while a distorted version of "blurred lines" played in the background.

Joy clamped her hands on her mouth as she attempted to choke back her laughter, on the verge of exploding into another laughing fit.

Disgust glared at her from her place at the console. "Don't you dare ," Disgust threatened, staring daggers into the yellow emotion.

Joy choked before momentarily gaining control of herself, but it was evident to all of them the dam was about to break. Much like Anger couldn't control his temper and Sadness couldn't stop herself from crying, it was only a matter of time before the embodiment of happiness could prevent herself from laughing.

Another video popped up, this time with a bass-boosted fart played over a car crash. 

"DON'T-" Disgust didn't get to finish her sentence as Joy burst into another uproar of laughter, losing control of herself and spraying spit all over the buttons on the console, causing Disgust to throw herself away from it and letting out a scream as she frantically fanned herself in discomfort.

"EW!!! JOY, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU????" She screamed at the emotion who was currently laughing too hard to hear her. Not like she was paying attention to her anyways.

Joy fell to the ground again, gasping and wheezing as she rolled on the floor.

Disgust rubbed at her temple and wondered what in God's name did she do to have to be stuck with these idiots. Then turned to Sadness who was watching Joy with a small smile on her face. "Honestly, what do you even see in her?"

Sadness perked up, slightly startled as the green emotion suddenly put the spotlight on her. "I- um, well... she's sweet.. and... caring... and.... she’s kinda hot too..." She whispered, her eyes widening as soon as she realized what she just said.

Disgust whipped around to the blue emotion, giving her a look that said "did you just say what I think you said?"

Sadness began to backtrack, a blush spreading across her face as she attempted to cover up her hidden affection for the yellow emotion, who was currently still engulfed in a laughing fit. "Uh... I mean.. s-she's really…. pretty?" Sadness mentally slapped herself and wished a black hole would come in and take her now.

Disgust turned to Joy, who was still rolling around wheezing on the ground, and waved a hand in front of her face. “You heard what your girlfriend said about you?"

Joy pulled herself off the floor and on her feet, still giggling slightly. She glanced at Sadness, who was attempting to hide in her sweater. Joy laughed at the sight, throwing her arm around her and resting her head on hers. "What did you say about me, Sadness?"

"Nothing," Sadness quickly replied, turning her head away from her and silently praying that she would just drop the subject. But, unfortunately for her, Joy never seemed to know when to quit, even when she needed to.

"Aw, don't be like that!" Joy pressed. "I bet it was something sweet, right, blueberry? "

Sadness' blush worsened thanks to Joy's pet name for her. "I.. said you were pretty. That's all." Sadness mumbled, hoping Joy would buy it.

"Actually, she said you were hot ." Disgust interrupted, her arms crossed with an evil smile on her face, smirking at the horrified look Sadness gave her before burying herself deeper into her sweater to the point where they couldn't see her eyes anymore.

Joy's eyes widened, shocked that the quiet and timid emotion who usually stumbled over her own words when trying to compliment her and blushed dark blue when Joy would hold her hand had enough courage to call her hot in front of her. 

Joy's smile widened, turning her girlfriend around to face her and pulling her sweater back down to its original position before grabbing her face and kissing her on the forehead.

"Do you think I'm hot, sweetie?" Joy teased, her smile growing wider as Sadness' cheeks darkened in hue while refusing to make eye contact. Sadness mumbled something unintelligible that Joy didn’t quite catch which caused her to laugh. “Telllll meeee…” Joy urged, bringing Sadness’ face close enough that their noses were touching.

Sadness made an attempt to escape, which failed since Joy was gripping onto her as if she’d melt through the cracks on the floor or dissolve into thin air if she didn’t. Since when the hell did she become so strong?

Sadness felt like her face was on fire, and much to her discomfort, Joy persisted, taking advantage of the fact that Sadness couldn’t ever bring herself to say no to her, as if she would ever want to in the first place. “Tell me tell me tell me tell meeee-”

Sadness couldn't hold it in any longer. “Okayfineithinkyou’rehot canyoustopnow?!” Sadness cried, pulling away and covering her ears as Joy squealed in delight. The others audibly groaned, which fell on deaf ears as Joy danced around like she won a contest while Sadness stared at the ground wishing some external force from the outside world would interrupt them so that they could forget about this. Sadly, nothing came to rescue her.

Sighing in disappointment when she realized nothing was gonna distract her from this, Sadness glanced up awkwardly at Joy, who wore a mischievous smile on her face, with a glint of something in her eye that Sadness couldn't quite place. "I knew you couldn't resist me!" Joy exclaimed, spinning around and smirking at her, taking immense pleasure in watching the other girl squirm in discomfort.

Sadness covered her face with her hands, desperately trying to keep herself from smiling. "Joy, stop..." 

Disgust faceplammed. "Can you two go five minutes without obsessing over each other?!"

Anger peeked over at Disgust from behind his newspaper and gave her an annoyed glare. "Don’t waste your breath. They've been wrapped around each other ever since they got back from Long Term Memory. You couldn't pry them off with a crowbar." 

Joy rolled her eyes at them both and leaned down to sling her arm around Sadness, whose face was still on fire. "Oh come on guys, this is what you do when you love someone!"

Disgust made a face in, well, disgust, and flipped her hair, which smacked Fear in the face. “Well, luckily I don't love anyone.”

Anger scoffed, placing his newspaper on the table beside him and getting up from his spot on the couch. “The only thing Disgust cares about is collecting hoards of free makeup samples and jumping on the next fashion trend that’ll blow over in two weeks.”

“Well at least I don’t leave crumpled up newspapers on the floor and light Headquarters on fire like you do!” Disgust quipped. 

“Oh, you want to go, missy?!”

“Don’t even get me started-”

“GUYS, STOP!!!!” Joy yelled, putting herself in between them to avoid any more conflict, but to mostly make sure that Anger did, in fact, not light anything (or anyone, especially Fear) on fire.

“The point is, sometimes, when you love another person, you do things for each other that you don’t do with anybody else, and… sometimes, you get to do special things for them!”

Anger let out a humorless laugh while Disgust looked like she was two seconds away from launching herself out of Headquarters.  “Yeah. special things . I'm sure you do a lot of special things for her that we don’t need to know about.”

“Yeah. Count me out. Love is gross. Do whatever you want, but keep it far away from me.” Disgust said, picking up a nail filer and sitting beside Anger on the couch.

Joy waved them off dismissively and returned to holding her girlfriend close to her. “Whatever, at least I got my blueberry here so I can smother her with as much love as I want!!” Joy’s heart doubled in size when she looked down and found Sadness smiling up at her.

Before Sadness could say anything back, the five of them turned their attention back to the screen once they saw that Riley had scrolled to another video, which happened to be a video of a Family Guy meme of Carter Pewterschmidt singing while rearranging furniture. This, according to Joy, was hilarious; causing her to let out yet another roar of laughter.

Disgust threw her hands up in frustration, having had enough of this. “That's it. I can't do this anymore. Goodbye.” she growled before stomping off.

Sadness sighed, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude and adoration for the emotion wrapped up in her arms.

“This is why I love you.”

#I'm silly hehehe #:3 #joyness #joy x sadness #sadness x joy #joy and sadness #inside out joy #joy inside out #sadness inside out #inside out sadness #inside out #inside out disney #fanfiction

[just-another-obsessed-fangirl]

list 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox of the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. learn to know your mutuals and followers 💖

aww this is so cute!! ily!!

baby photos/childhood photos. i have a bunch of them of me and most of my family saved onto my phone and i love when there's an excuse for me to bring them out at family parties. we're cleaning out our garage right now and we found a bunch of old photos and i keep getting distracted from cleaning because i keep wanting to go through them. when we finish with the garage, im gonna put them into albums in chronological order (as far as i can tell) and add them into my phone

making stupid memes and edits. i made less and less of them as my computer became more outdated but i started making some again for the purpose of some silly polls i wanna make thru brute forcing my computer into it. it's arguably more work put into them that'd be worth the payoff im gonna get, but i have a tendency to be hard on myself over the art i make, so i forgot how fun it is to make something intentionally low quality and silly and unserious just for a bit of a laugh

kinda on the topic of polls, i love reading tags on here and learning a bit about people, mutuals or followers or no. it's nice to know a bit about other people's lives on here, even mundane things, and feel something about connection and humanity. blah blah blah parasocial whatever im not even sure if most of us are using that word correctly. i make polls and participate in a lot of those posts that tell you to put things in tags not just because i want to overshare, but because i like seeing what other people reblogging from me say in my activity feed.

i love my cheap jewelry, especially my sets of earrings. before covid, wearing fun lipstick shades was kinda my thing, but obviously, with masks, it's not as fun to do so. ive turned to wearing cheap earrings (a lot of which are heart-shaped), and i love it. they're all cutesy or kitschy and may make me look a bit childish or something like that, but they make me happy.

my dad's pinakbet. last time my dad was here, he made pinakbet, and walking into the kitchen and realizing that that was what he was cooking made me sooo happy like i almost cried because it's been so long since i've had it and i didn't realize it. it's one of my favorite dishes ever. dad puts so much alamang in it that the meat turns pink, which isn't very traditional, but oh my gosh, it's so good.

+ 1 - my doggy! he's 15 and still going strong! still naughty but he's still my baby! look at him!

thank you so much for sending this! it's been a bit of a rough time for me lately, i think i needed this 💕💕💕

#asks answered #fitsinthepalm #personal

[deltaengineering]

Spring Anime 2021: Embarrassment of Riches

So this current anime season absolutely stinks, which just makes the last one look even more impressive. Well, maybe not all of it...

Zombieland Saga Revenge

First off, you don't need to tell me that the following is a severe outlier opinion. We good? Ok. ZLSR is, in a word, subpar. I liked S1 back in the day, but it was already in the process of getting lazy towards the end. S2 continues this trend and is basically just another idol show. And as someone who actually does watch other idol shows I have to say that it's not a particularly good one of those either. The zombie gimmick has mostly stopped mattering and we're just doing what every idol show does, only with the odd occasional sight gag. The alleged subversive qualities mostly amount to a flashback for Yuugiri, which is admittedly the best part of the show but feels like it barely has anything to do with anything. Apart from that, it's a bunch of generic idol plots, rehashed character beats, shoddy attempts at twists (while not connecting to any setups from S1), and the obligatory "idols give us hope" ending, which is terribly hackneyed and flat out bad. Tae gets further memed into the ground, because of course she does. And there's stuff that was simply never good to begin with, like Kotarou and his comedy schtick, which gets truly insufferable now that there's no qualities to distract from it. It really makes me think that S1 wasn't even all that good to begin with and seems like an attempt to turn this surprise success into an easy money longrunner with no edge and no ambitions. "The idol show for people who don't watch idol shows" indeed, but not the way you mean it. 4/10

Bakuten

But not to dwell on the failures, with the second show we're already above the cut — barely. This one got my attention with its really impressive performance scenes early on and it totally sticks to that, which is even more impressive. But besides that? Well, this is by far the most predictable show in a season where I watched an unambitious Kiraralike and put ZLS on blast for having no ideas. The characters are a mixed bag, some are cool (Shida, Asawo), some are very annoying (Mashiro), but those are the supports. The main cast is extremely one-dimensional, which is fine until they try to heap a ton of pathos on their lead, which doesn't go well. But I guess execution matters, and Bakuten is slick enough to get by. Writing this down in stark daylight I feel like I overrated this show somewhat (I actually put it over the next one originally, which definitely doesn't hold up when thinking about it), but I was indeed mostly entertained. 6/10

Yakunara Mug Cup mo

Yeah. Of course Mug Cup definitely doesn't invent or subvert anything either, but it's a pretty good Kiraralike that's always entertaining to watch. Explaining the qualities of such a nothing genre is as difficult as ever, but it mostly comes down to me liking the characters and it having nothing to annoy me. It's shorter than normal, which is a plus for slim shows like this. And yeah, you can make an excessive amount of dick jokes with the clay fondling. That helps too. Looks are just fine, pleasant but nothing out of the ordinary. Comfy low-effort anime. 6/10

Vivy: Fluorite Eye's Song

This one is decent, but sadly still a major letdown. Because the first few episodes of Vivy were excellent and kicked ass, but then it became increasingly clear that the writing can't cash the checks the ideas wrote while the action starts running into severely diminishing returns. Vivy just keeps slowly getting worse and worse as it goes on, not by a huge amount each episode but by the end there's a pretty sizeable gulf between potential and result. Going into detail would probably be a little much for this venue because there's a lot, but from the top level view the issue is that while Vivy has good fundamental ideas and steals at the right places, it just isn't a smart show — it's schlock, and by the end, poorly thought out schlock that tries to smooth out every problem with liberal application of the big feels hammer and le epic twist at that. Yeah, couldn't tell that the Re:Zero dude was aboard here, for sure. That said, it still works pretty well as entertaining schlock that is not to be taken too seriously, and the characters are generally just very fun to watch even when they're doing stupid things. Still, I can't in good conscience rate this higher than Beatless, a show that looks like butt but properly executes on its ideas. 6/10

Super Cub

So this is 100% a Honda commercial, and I got really mad a Yuru Camp last season for being a blatant shill. Yet I'm feeling this, what gives? I think the main difference is that Super Cub is specifically a commercial for one product (and a very iconic product at that), while Yuru Camp is so all over the place that it ends up mostly a commercial for consumerism in general. And when Super Cub goes too hard on the product (which it does), it's at least pretty entertaining. That's something about Super Cub in general: It goes hard. Your regular Kiraralike this is not, because it's uncommonly slow, focused and moody - yes, it almost measures up to Yuru Camp at its best and demolishes it at its worst. Also, it's just extremely amusing to see sadblob Koguma grow a huge grizzly biker beard and become a badass outlaw dad to her goofy wife and cute daughter, all thanks to the power of afforable personal transportation. Needless to say, that can get unintentionally silly, but Super Cub has so much charm that it doesn't matter — it's great when it's good and still funny when it's not. 7/10

Shadows House

Shadows House turned up with a lot of potential, and I have to say it at least delivered on most of it. It has some problems; notably I'm not a fan of how the entire middle turned out to be a tournament arc of sorts that seems curiously inspired by Resident Evil memes, crest-shaped intentations and boulder punching included. I also think that this is a show that would be perfectly fine without explaining much, but I guess it is a shounen manga after all so we got dumped on eventually anyway. At least that came late - close relative Promised Neverland didn't show that much restraint. Shadows House is generally well written though, with great characters, interesting interactions and a great hook. But what really makes it memorable is that it's exceptionally good at the cute/creepy contrast, something that is often tried but rarely works as well as here, with great character designs and very appropriate production. I hope this gets a sequel, because it seems like it's just getting started. 7/10

SSSS.Dynazenon

Coming in with a fondness for Gridman, Dynazenon didn't have to do much to convince me. The surprise though is that it's not a rehash even if it's basically the same show, a character drama where occasionally huge and goofy fights break out. Dynazenon is Gridman done better, and the interesting part is how it accomplishes this - mainly by being far more conventional. I do appreciate that Gridman went for something weird and almost experimental, but that only really paid off towards the end while most of the show was a distraction/holding pattern. It just didn't feel like there was enough material for a full series there, more like a movie maybe, if even that. Dynazenon fixes this by just being a TV show, with an actual cast of characters that each have their own arc. And by spreading the material this way, Dynazenon ends up having a lot more nuance than its intensely focused predecessor, while having the same themes and not actually being any deeper. In a way, Gridman ends up looking like the spinoff in retrospect, while Dynazenon is the full package. 8/10

Thunderbolt Fantasy S3

So how good was this season? So good that Thunderbolt Fantasy doesn't end up at the top, that's how. And all the elements that made Tbolt such a sure thing are still there, big hammy puppets doing stunts and scheming never gets old. However, I do have to note that at this point, the writing appears to have gotten too comfortable. I don't expect it to ever top the amazing S1 ending, but at this point it's like Tbolt has stopped trying to deliver on endings at all and seems in the process of retooling itself into a longrunner instead. Barely anything gets resolved in S3 (the climax is that the climax of S2 is resolved again, for good this time... maybe), and everything else is just setting up plotpoints for the next season. Tbolt is truly lucky that it doesn't actually need to resolve anything to be a great time, but at this point I have to say that I'd appreciate it if they wrapped it up with S4. 8/10

Nomad: Megalobox 2

Speaking of sequels to shows I liked, Nomad doesn't so much improve upon its predecessor but steamrolls right over it. This is a tall order, since Megalobox was surprisingly good for a sports shounen and had a real nice, heartwarming ending that Nomad instantly negates for purposes of drama and everyone being extremely miserable. That sounds like a pretty terrible idea - and it would be, if Nomad wasn't as excellent as it is. To call it not the same show would be an understatement, because it's a true sequel, not just the same characters doing their thing some more, or new characters doing the same thing as the old ones did. Indeed my biggest problem with Megalobox was that it still closely adhered to its genre template and was very predictable; Nomad fixes this issue thoroughly. Nomad is about questioning what being a hotblooded shounen protagonist eventually leads you to, and how to fix everything you screwed up by being one. You could call it a deconstruction, but that term has been so abused for cynical, edgy "thing you like actually sucks" takes that I feel like it doesn't really fit here. Nomad isn't cynical at all, it's just a character drama about some boxers past their prime, and it being a sequel to a show that is indeed rather formulaic just enhances the experience. My biggest issue with it was that I really like what they did with Joe in this story, so the big focus on Mac's backstory felt like a distraction for a long time. But in the end that turned out to be absolutely necessary to make the ending work. The ending's just great, by the way, and I shall say not more about it. 9/10

Odd Taxi

Yeah boy, here's the show that has apparently become somewhat of a "greatest show you didn't watch" meme, which I can feel smug about because I don't need YouTubers to tell me what's good and followed this from day one. Anyway, Odd Taxi is indeed great, the greatest show in a few years even. What starts out as seemingly a relaxed hangout show in the vein of Midnight Diners quickly turns into a psychological murder mystery while never losing its quirky humor. The character writing is outstanding, with even small bit players being on a level that the average anime wishes it could have for leads. And the rollout of the mystery is exemplary, with answers given and new questions raised every episode with a satisfying and logical payoff in the end. This is also the rare anime that has rock solid production from the first to the last second; it's never really flashy but excellently done and highly consistent nonetheless. And the music just owns. I have a few complaints, mainly that there's a few logical weaknesses in the story (which wouldn't even register in a lesser show, but sticks out here since the rest is so immaculately constructed) and that the ending overextends on the emotions when the rest of the show is so reserved and dry in comparison. But those are only the reasons why I didn't give it perfect marks, and I almost did that anyway. 9/10

#Zombieland Saga #bakuten #yakunara mug cup mo #vivy: fluorite eye's song #super cub #shadows house #ssss.dynazenon #thunderbolt fantasy #nomad megalo box #odd taxi #anime #review #spring2021

[consumedkings-archive]

ancient names, pt. xxi

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt xxi: what went we

Masterlink Post

Word Count: 15.3k

Rating: Explicit: sexual content ahead.

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, some slight gore/blood (it's very mild), the aforementioned sexually explicit content.

Notes: Hi guys. I don't really know where to begin this post, because I am incredibly emotional. It feels so very fitting and special to me that I am bringing in the last chapter of Ancient Names just as 2021 rolls in, and so yes, I AM crying, yes, this WILL be an exceptionally sappy notes section, and yes, this is going to be all about you!

There are so many people that are in part responsible for this fic actually getting finished and put out where the world can see it. @empirics, whose unending support even when she doesn't even GO here and cheerleading me through writing sprints; @lilwritingraven, who is so sweet, so supportive, so incredible and just an overall gigantic sweetheart; @faithchel, whose tags are incredible and always just give me LIFE, I love that our girls be out here really feral like that; @shallow-gravy, who not only lends me her eyeballs but also lets me complain and whine, send her memes nonstop, and participates in my very elaborate fantasies of Elliot and Diana living out their lives as dog moms on a farm (and sometimes in our unholy OT3); @baeogorath, also an eyeball-lender, also incredibly sweet, ALSO lets me send them memes, and does so good in talking me down from my adrenaline anxiety pre-posting and post-posting, was the first person to welcome me into this fandom and is also just a dear, dear friend who happens to be incredibly talented. And, of course, @starcrier. As always, this would have never ever ever been possible without you, not even a little bit, not even at all. From the bottom of my heart, to every single one of you, and the people who have left kudos, have left comments: thank you thank you thank you, from the absolute bottom of my heart. Here is ALL my love, just for you!

The emotional journey of writing this fic has been an incredible one. And a taxing one. Elliot is a character near and dear to my heart for many reasons; I pour so much of my heart into her, so when I hear people say that they love her, and love this journey, and love these things that I've created and written, I mean it when I say that it makes my whole entire day. It means so much to me. Thank you.

In the essence of time, I will not go through all of the feelings that are in my brain right now because there are SO many and I am already crying lol. Please just know you have made the experience of joining a new fandom, and writing in it, so incredible!

There is going to be an epilogue following this chapter, and then I'm going to take a short break and start in on a sequel fic, tentatively titled Witching Hour. Please feel free to hang out/chat w me/plague me with your thoughts at any time of the day; I would love to visit with all of y’all!

John was lying to her.

Or, at the very least, he was withholding information from her, which was just about as bad as lying, Elliot thought. She didn’t know what exactly he wasn’t forthcoming about—but did it matter, at this point? She could tell he was lying; he’d been all kinds of ready to leave and go and get out of Hope County, and now he was scrounging up some kind of ass-pull reason for them to stay. So did it matter? Did the distinction count?

Yes, she thought absently, as John’s fingers traced slow, lazy circles along the small of her back. Yes, I have to know what he’s lying to me about.

“Good morning,” John murmured against her neck. “How did you sleep?”

It had been three days since her baptism-gone-awry, three days of Burke occupying the bunkhouse she had been in while she had wordlessly moved into John’s space, three days of avoiding eye contact with the marshal and deferring questions about him. I don’t know, I really only knew him for a day, she’d say when John asked, or does it matter if I told him? He wouldn’t get it, the unspoken words being ‘not like you do’. She hoped, anyway.

Three days of trying to figure out what it was John wasn’t telling her.

“Like shit,” she replied tiredly as his mouth trailed along the curve of her shoulderblade. The pressure of his fingers against her sternum had her rolling onto her back to look up at him; his gaze swept over the exposed skin.

“Bruising’s clearing up,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep. But he didn’t elaborate; he didn’t say, should we reveal your sin today, my love? the way that she thought he would try. It felt as though the gears in her head were still sluggishly turning, trying to piece together the entire picture of what was going on, a picture that she felt like John didn’t want her to see.

She knew exactly how it would go if she asked. What’s the game? she’d say, and John would look at her with those eyes, and lean in to kiss her, and he’d say, no game, hellcat, and she’d have to believe him because she didn’t have any empirical evidence that he was lying to her. Just a feeling, deep in her gut, twisting and wrenching.

It made it worse to know that John was looking at her with adoration.

Trailing a lazy circle below her collarbone with his fingertips, John asked, “Do you want to do it today?” and she stifled a sigh.

“I don’t know yet, about staying,” she replied, even though she did know: she wouldn’t. She would die before she crawled into a stupid fucking bunker at the behest of Joseph Seed. “I want to wait.”

John’s eyes flickered a little at her words, but he nodded. Elliot reached up, catching her hand with his and skimming the pads of her thumbs along his palm. The words sat there on the tip of her tongue: what aren’t you telling me? Why can’t you just tell me? Haven’t we been through enough, the two of us?

“Your heartline,” Elliot said instead, forcing her voice into playfulness because she couldn’t stop thinking about how Burke had told her to carry on as she had been. “Have you ever had your palm read?”

“No,” he answered amusedly, letting her nail skim along the curve of the line on his palm. “Are you an expert in palmistry?”

“My mama used to entertain tarot cards and palm readers with her ladies,” she replied. “So I listened in a lot. I suppose it isn’t very Godly to have your palm read.”

“It isn’t.” John’s eyes glittered. “But go ahead and tell me what mine says.”

She shifted a little against the pillows. On the floor by her side of the bed, Boomer let out a long, suffering sigh—like he was tired of listening to this flirtation already. For a small second in time, that feeling of peace swept over her, and she let herself bask in it. Elliot thought that she deserved that much at least.

“Your heartline shows your personality, and your quality of love,” she explained, skimming her finger along his heartline. “Yours comes all the way over, see? All the way across your palm.”

“Is that good?”

“Very,” Elliot said somberly. “It shows you have an abundance of love, and high expectations.”

John worked his jaw a little, clearly trying not to smile like he was proud of himself—like he had any control over the lines of his palm and how they worked. “I could have told you that.”

“And it curves upward,” she continued. “Which means you have great verbal dexterity.”

“I could have also told you that.”

“Undoubtedly,” she deadpanned. “Are you going to let me finish my reading?”

He flashed his teeth at her in a grin. “Please,” he said, “continue.”

Elliot clicked her tongue, turning her attention back to his hand. Inspecting for a moment, she said, “You have a upward split here, you see? That means you’re willing to sacrifice a lot for love.”

John rumbled his agreement at the statement and leaned down, kissing her shoulder.

“And these little forks here,” she added, pressing her thumb against them, “indicates a dispute on marriage.” Her eyes lifted to his, playful. “Are you intending on marrying, John? Palm says that’s a bad idea.”

For a second, John stared at her—his eyes fluttered, and he looked like he was collecting himself. Elliot sat up a little, frowning, but when she did it seemed to trigger whatever it was that was needed for him to come back to being present. Interlacing their fingers together, he pulled her forward and kissed her; and kissed her, and kissed her, until her lungs ached and she thought she was getting dizzy from not being able to take a full breath. His free hand slid down between her legs; when her lips parted to allow her to whimper, John’s teeth caught her lower lip with bruising force.

Already, heat was pooling in the pit of her stomach. Already, she could feel those telltale signs of desire, the way that John inspired it in her with just a few simple gestures.

“Want you,” John said against her mouth, guiding her onto him, settling her on his lap. Something was wrong, something she’d said had struck a strange nerve in him; but undeniably, it felt good, that his hands were trembling whenever his grip on her lessened a little. It felt good, because it felt like he needed her.

“Reading my palm is a cute trick, but—”

“How badly?” Elliot asked, before she could stop herself. John’s eyes, dark with want, raked over her as the sheets bunched at her hips. When she rocked her hips against his inquisitively, a low, strangled noise came out of him. “How badly do you want me?”

“You’re—in a mood,” John managed out. He opened his mouth to keep talking—something insufferable, Elliot was sure—but as he did, she adjusted and sank down against him, drawing out of him a low, vicious moan. His fingers dug into her hips and he hissed, “Wicked thing.”

She slid him out of her, and he groaned, miserable.

“How badly?” she asked again, less cloying this time. There was a strange kind of satisfaction that wound up in her, hot and humid, when John let her do this—let her take, let her sink her nails and her teeth into him wherever and however she wanted. Like he knew exactly what it was she needed and didn’t mind giving it to her.

Liar, something inside of her said, he’s a fucking liar, there’s something he isn’t telling us, but then John looked at her and said, “So badly, more than anything, Elliot,” and her chest tightened.

Her fingers found his shoulder and she tugged him up into a sitting position. Her mouth found his; she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled just as their hips slotted together and she sighed his name in a hitching breath. The delicious burn was almost enough to fizz her focus out of existence—with so little sleep on her agenda, it was hard enough, but then she canted her hips wantingly and sparks of red-hot pleasure went racing up her spine.

“So. Fucking. Tight,” John ground out, burying his face against her neck. “Can’t believe you’re mine, El—can’t—after all of this—”

Elliot’s lashes fluttered at his words, the uneasy sprint of happiness making her stomach churn. Something else, though, wrenched around the cavity of her chest—those words. Can’t believe you’re mine.

“John,” she managed out, breathless, “I—”

“—and I’m yours.” John kissed her and guided her hips down against him until she was moaning unsteadily. “Fuck, yes, I’m—all yours, baby, just take w-what you—need from me, give you anything, anything—”

I’m all yours, he said, in the same breath as can’t believe you’re mine, and it shouldn’t have but it felt different: in that moment, having John buried into her up to the hilt and digging his fingers into her skin and sighing her name, it shouldn’t have felt different, but it did. It did, because they belonged to each other.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, on his shoulder. She thought, he’s a liar, and she thought, I’m so afraid of losing him, too, and she thought, we belong to each other.

“Please,” Elliot moaned, but she didn’t know what she was asking for; to finish, to hear him say it again, to hear him say more, to tell her the complete and absolute truth? Did it matter, anymore?

It does matter. The distinction matters.

So she said, “You’re mine,” and she kissed him, and she said it again, and again, like a prayer; until John was saying it back, feverish and panting the delicious words against her skin, I’m yours, I’m yours, all yours.

Wicked, and wretched, and maybe a liar, but all hers.

Later, tangled together in bed, John pulled her flush against him and said against her skin, “Don’t you want it, too?”

“I do,” Elliot murmured, knowing that he was talking about the Wrath he was going to put into her skin. “There’s just... A lot after that, to think about. And I know you’ll want an answer right away—”

“Is it that hard?” he asked. “To make a decision about staying or leaving?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?”

John frowned. “I just—”

“You just want me to say yes to whatever it is you want,” Elliot snapped. “I’d like to remind you that you told me we’d go as soon as this was done.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know, Elliot. I’m just—”

And then he paused, like something wanted to come out of him that he didn’t want to say, like he’d caught himself before he’d make a fool of himself. All this time, and Elliot thought she’d never see John vulnerable, not really in the way that she wanted—he’d seen her crying and broken and grieving, and she’d seen him in intimate glimpses, but not completely.

“You’re just what?” she asked, brows pulling together.

John’s fingers traced along her sternum, spelling out WRATH, much like he had done that evening at her mother’s house.

“They’re my family,” he said after a moment. “He gave me everything.”

Something uncomfortable twisted in her chest. “I know.”

“That includes you, too.” John leaned down and kissed her shoulder. “He brought me you. I know you don’t believe, hellcat, but if nothing happens then what did we lose? Nothing. I just get to keep my family.”

Her lashes fluttered, exhaustion seeping over her bones again. It was late into the morning, but already she wanted to close her eyes.

“I told you before,” she whispered. “I told you. You can’t have both. You can’t put one foot in both worlds, John.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. He ducked his head against her neck and kissed there, and she thought about what he’d said that night in the bar.

Outside of my loyalty to Joseph, there’s you, and I want both.

I want you too, Elliot.

We can have a place to belong.

She thought about Jerome’s voice over the radio. You don’t have to Atlas this thing, deputy.

She thought about Joey, holding her tight. I never doubted you’d be able to get me.

She thought about how, at twenty-five, she had to bury her best friend in the fucking ground.

John was lying to her about something. He wasn’t telling her everything, and maybe she had always known that it would be like this, between them: maybe, down in the marrow of her bones, she had always known they would end up at odds with each other, John trapped between two worlds that he wanted and neither side willing to budge.

Something has to be done, she thought tiredly, as John’s fingers smoothed along her hip, and I’m going to have to fucking do it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You’ve gotta get them out of here, Rook.”

Burke’s words stayed there, lingering in the air between them. It was late in the afternoon, and John was with his brothers and Faith in the chapel, and she’d ducked into Burke’s bunkhouse between guard shifts to grab a quick word with him. As soon as she told him that John had been pushing to get her sin revealed sooner than the original week he’d told her, Burke’s frown had deepened.

“They’re planning on getting it over with and getting the fuck out,” he said, pacing the tiny bunkhouse room. “There’s no way I’m getting to that radio with them all here. They think the world’s going to end, and that they need to be in their bunkers to survive it. If they get locked in there, Elliot, then—”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get them all out of here,” she replied irritably. “You do realize that I’m only—John’s the only—”

Burke waved his hand to stop her from elaborating. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want to discuss the nature of her relationship with John beyond what the base information: they had indulged in a physical relationship, and an emotional one, and now Elliot’s priorities included him. As best they could.

“He wants to do the… Ceremony,” Elliot continued, mouth twisting around the only word she could think to say without making it macabre, “soon. And I just think that if I push it all the way out, then it’ll stir up suspicion, after I told him I wanted to—”

“What if you didn’t?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“What if you didn’t push it out?” Burke continued, slowly, pitching his voice quieter and more urgent when he noticed movement outside. “What if you asked for it to be done sooner? But just—somewhere else? Not here? Make up something about how you don’t have good memories here, and…”

“And ask for his family to be there,” Elliot finished, “so that they have to leave you here?”

Burke nodded. His gaze darted to the window again, and she knew that they were running out of time. “You’ll still be guarded.”

“I can handle a few of these fuckers,” he replied, waving his hand. “Most of them are scattered out, getting supplies. I hear them complaining about it outside all the time. I’ll get that radio, see if I can hear any chatter, and tell them where to find you. ”

I need more time, she thought, but she knew that she wouldn’t get it. Not now. Her deadline had been set for her—by Joseph, by John, and even a little bit by Burke. She was this close to being done, to being—

Free.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, yes, I can do that. I’ll ask them to take me to the ranch, and—I can do that.”

“I know,” Burke said, and he had never sounded more confident; he planted his hands on her shoulders and looked at her, the clarity having returned from his Bliss-induced high. He hesitated, and then said, “The ceremony—”

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want you to know,” he plunged on, “it doesn’t matter, but I want you to know that you aren’t… That isn’t all of who you are.” His hands squeezed shoulders, the pressure welcoming and comforting and nauseating all at once. How strange, that kindness sickened her, now. “Wrath.”

Elliot paused, swallowing thickly. “I should go,” she said, because Burke still didn’t know what she’d done to Kian, still didn’t know the full extent of her body count or the way she’d felt when she killed a man. How it felt good, now—satisfying, an instant hit of dopamine centered around control.

“The back window,” Burke said, gesturing. “So the guards don’t wonder.”

“It’s all very exciting,” Elliot added. She tried for lightness, pushing the window up. “Subterfuge.”

“Just try not to say that where anyone can hear you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“We’ve nearly collected the last of the supplies,” Joseph said, pacing absently back and forth. “How long do you think, Jacob?”

“A day, at most,” the redhead replied. “They’re working quickly, without all of these interruptions.” Jacob paused, and then turned his gaze at John. His mouth twisted for a moment, and John could tell his older brother was trying not to smile when he continued, “What’s your timeline, John?”

“The same,” John replied tightly.

“A day at most?”

“No, the same as before,” he clarified, even though he knew Jacob was doing it on purpose. “You gave me a timeline and that’s what I’m working with.”

“It’s just, you sounded very confident about your ability to wrangle the deputy,” his eldest brother continued, “and you’ve always been an overachiever.”

Joseph was looking at him expectantly. John knew that they wanted him to say that Elliot had insisted on doing it sooner, that she’d fully acquiesced to staying with him, that he had fully convinced her, down to every molecule of her being, that what they were doing was right and just and undeniably truthful.

But he hadn’t. Their conversation this morning only proved that more to him. You can’t have both, she’d said, like she still thought of herself as a separate entity from him, from his family. But she wasn’t; where else would she find people who would accept her, unconditionally?

Well, mostly unconditionally. There was one condition: believing. The most difficult one for her, he thought.

“I can spend more time with her,” Faith supplied, helpfully. “Maybe she’s tired of being around you boys all the time. You can be...” Her gaze flickered, and she tilted her chin a little, smiling. “A little heavy-handed. It’s possible that a lighter touch is necessary to bring the deputy around.”

“First, you should stop calling her that,” John pointed out, and he felt a little more than petulant saying it. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Elliot was naturally inclined to open up to Faith more easily, and he shouldn’t have been surprised, but it did still bother him, sitting right in the back of his mind. Always away but never forgotten. “Continuing to refer to her as “the deputy” is only going to further cement her ties to her past life.”

“Well,” Jacob demurred, “we can’t all call her baby, can we, John?”

“If you have a problem with me enjoying the marital bed,” John bit out, “then I think perhaps you spend some time reflecting inwardly on why that’s such a—”

The door to the chapel creaked as it was pushed open. Swallowing back his words quickly, he turned and glanced over his shoulder to see Elliot, hesitating in the doorway. Boomer lingered just behind her, sat at the bottom of the stairs, ever obedient.

“I can come back,” she said, sounding uncertain.

“Not at all,” Joseph replied, before John could tell her maybe that would be best. “Please, come in.”

She did, letting the door swing shut behind her, and moved tentatively toward the front. He wondered how it felt for her—coming in here, with all of them looking at her, much the same way she had the day that set the events in motion that brought her back to them.

John wondered, too, if Joseph had known this all along; if the things that he heard and saw had shown him that Elliot would always come back here, to them. Our deputy, he’d always said, without fail.

“I want to do it,” Elliot said, as she approached. “Soon. As soon as possible.”

Silence reigned supreme for a moment, before John said, “That’s great, Elliot. We can get started with—”

“But I don’t want to do it here,” she interrupted, bringing John’s mouth to a full stop.

“More fucking demands,” Jacob muttered under his breath.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Joseph said, watching her curiously. The way they had been, he was the closest to Elliot, with a table separating her from John. His fingers itched. “If you’re worried about the safety of it, I am sure John is more than equipped to—”

“This is supposed to be cleansing, isn’t it?” Elliot asked. “Regardless of how you feel, Joey’s body was put on display here. I don��t want this to be the place where I...”

Her voice trailed off, and her gaze darted elsewhere, mouth pressing into a thin line. John said, “I don’t think going somewhere else would be a problem. Where did you have in mind?”

“The ranch,” she replied, sounding relieved. “Feels fitting.”

As John stifled a smile, Joseph said, “Well, we’ll need to clear out the bodies, but I’m sure that can be done.”

“That’s manpower,” Jacob protested.

“You were just talking about how quickly they were getting things done,” John replied. “Weren’t you? Ahead of schedule. Over-achieving, I think.”

Jacob’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click and grind of his molars, and for once, John felt a sweeping thrill of victory. It was coming together, right there, in front of him—in front of his brothers, and Faith. All of the witnessing the fruits of his labor.

“Fine,” Jacob acquiesced, at last. “But it’ll take them a few hours.”

“Perfect.” John smiled, looking at Elliot across the table, Joseph’s figure nearly eclipsing her. “Then Elliot and I will head out as soon as we hear that the bodies have been properly disposed of.”

“There’s one more thing,” Elliot began, looking uncertain, and drawing all eyes back to her again even as Joseph had moved to place his hand on Faith’s shoulder. When they had watched expectantly for long enough, she continued, “I want—everyone there.”

“Everyone?” John asked, the word souring in his mouth.

“Not—of Eden’s Gate. Just… All of you,” she elaborated.

John could feel the surprise, bubbling fresh and unexpected, between his siblings as they exchanged glances.

“Even me?” Jacob asked, and John saw the grin splitting across his face.

“Even you,” Elliot replied, dryly. “Against my better judgment, I’m sure.”

“I’m touched, honey.”

Clearing his throat, John walked around the table briskly, muttering a quick excuse us as he guided Elliot away from the front of the chapel and down the walkway a little.

“You want my family there?” he asked, keeping his voice low as his siblings chatted quietly amongst themselves. Jacob was grinning wolfishly, looking very pleased with himself, which was something John didn’t necessarily like. “Normally, it’s more of a—a private affair, and that’s how I pictured it with you—”

“This is important to me,” Elliot said, watching him. “And they’re important to you. Aren’t they?”

John swallowed. “Well, yes, but…”

“John,” she murmured, her fingers loosely tangled with his, “I’ll stay, after.”

He blinked at her. “You’ll—?”

“Yes.” Her gaze flickered over his, her voice low as she struggled through the words. “I’ll stay here, with you—and your family. After it’s done. I just… Need to close the chapter.”

I fucking did it, he thought, certain that he was going to grin like a complete maniac if he didn’t keep himself in check. I fucking got her. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe they doubted me.

“Of course,” he managed out, somehow keeping his voice steady despite the rush of butterflies banging against his rib cage. “Of course, hellcat, anything you want.”

“Okay.” She paused, and then reached up and kissed him—willingly, of her own volition, in front of his siblings, she kissed him, and then sat back on her feet. “In a day, then?”

“In a day,” John promised, their noses brushing. “We’ll really belong to each other.”

Elliot’s lashes fluttered. She looked a little more tired than before, but it was hard to tell this close; and if it bothered her at all—if it was changing her mood—it didn’t show. He felt her smile against his mouth.

“Yes,” she murmured, just the way that he liked. “Completely.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jacob stopped by the bunkhouse with Joseph that evening to let him know they’d dispatched the men to clean out the ranch of any remaining corpses; they’d do it through the night, to better assist Elliot in her revelations. It seemed that the members of Eden’s Gate were just as relieved as the siblings themselves that the deputy was no longer and adversary, but joining them.

Which still left the matter of Cameron Burke.

“I say we kill him,” Jacob announced, glancing over John’s shoulder to ensure Elliot wasn’t there—and never before had John been more grateful for the blonde’s need to go on exorbitantly long walks out of the compound. “Quick and easy.”

“Well,” John said, “that is what I had thought you intended before, yet here we are, with him still on our hands.”

“We are lucky that our brother cares so much as to run our deputy through such trials,” Joseph interceded serenely, before a spat could break out. “And that she passed. With flying colors, I think.”

“That’s a little generous.”

“At any rate, that we’ve moved up this celebration for her is good,” the blonde continued. “I hear that the Family may not all be finished. Jacob mentioned that his scouts saw movement, out close to the Whitetails.”

John frowned. No good, he thought, but then—what about all of those dead couples he and Elliot had seen? Paired, holding hands, flowers blooming from wherever they could fit them? How was it determined which ones would off themselves and which ones stuck around?

“Now that we have all of the supplies we need,” Jacob said, “we don’t have to worry about getting rid of them.” He shrugged. “Let the apocalypse finish them off.”

“Well.” John clapped his hands together. “I’ve quite a day to prepare for tomorrow, I think. And when it’s all done, we’ll be ready to settle in.”

Joseph and Jacob exchanged looks, just for a moment, before Jacob said, “Night, Johnny,” and set off, leaving Joseph alone in front of the doorway to the bunkhouse. When he looked at John, his expression unreadable, something uneasy crawled and settled down at the base of his spine.

“I have something for you,” Joseph said. “Come with me to the chapel?”

Trying not to recognize that dread, lest he give it more legs than it already had, John nodded his head. “Of course. Though, you know you never have to…”

“It’s the least I could do,” his brother interjected lightly, waiting patiently as he closed the door to his temporary base of operations and then fell into step with him to the chapel. The evening was brisk and chilly, and when Joseph said, “And where is our deputy?” John stifled a rueful smile.

“Taking a walk, with Faith,” John replied. “And the dog, of course.”

“Of course.” He saw a smile ticking the corner of his brother’s mouth, small and almost imperceptible. “It’s nice that they get along, don’t you think?”

“It is,” he agreed, “like she was always meant to be with us.”

Joseph paused outside the chapel’s doors, reaching up and giving John’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just like.”

They stepped inside. It was cool and quiet; nobody remained. The radio flickering through channels was the only noise, and they rang empty and static, not a peep out there. He wondered if the remaining members of the Family were just looking for a place to rest, or a way to get out; maybe they didn’t want anything, anymore.

He followed his brother to the front of the chapel. On the table was the map they’d been using, a few scribbled notes in Jacob’s hand-writing, and a manila envelope.

Joseph picked up the envelope and held it out to John. He took it, and then glanced inquisitively up at his brother.

“Is this—?”

“Her file,” Joseph confirmed. “What we gathered on her prior to the Collapse. Also in there are my notes from her confession, as well as what appears to be diary entries, recovered from where Kian had tried to hunt the two of you.”

Holy shit, John thought, because sitting in his hands was the exact thing that he’d wanted from the beginning. Everything that he wanted to know about Elliot was right there: waiting to be read, devoured, committed to memory. He would know every single part of her, every wretched thing she had ever done, every loss she had ever suffered, every—

“And,” Joseph continued, “your marriage certificate.”

John glanced up at his brother. Suddenly, the envelope felt—different. Like an ultimatum. If he learned all of this about Elliot, and she got suspicious because he suddenly knew so much about her, and she asked where he found out and he told her—and he would have to tell her—she’d want to see it and then. And then.

And then.

“I think it’s time, John,” his brother said. “I know that you haven’t told our deputy about this arrangement. She is your wife, after all, before the eyes of this congregation and God.”

“Right,” John murmured, swallowing. “Yeah, of course. I planned on it. After tomorrow. It feels fitting, to tell her then.”

Maybe it would be better to tell her in the bunker, he thought absently, and then shoved that immediately away. No, fuck, no, I have to tell her. Tomorrow, after we finish everything.

“Good.” Joseph smiled, and for the first time in a long time he smiled with teeth, and the expression on his brother’s face almost unnerved him. He reached up, and his fingers brushed the nape of John’s neck, tilting him forward so that their foreheads pressed together.

Relief, hot and overwhelming, washed straight through him. They had been so at odds that John thought he might have forgotten what it was like to be in his brother’s good graces, but here he was.

“I am so proud of all that you have done for me, for our family, for Eden’s Gate.” Joseph’s voice rang in the hollow of his bones, vibrating straight through him, spiking in him a delirious rush of pride. “You have done so well, John, despite all that God has done to test you.”

Oh, there it was: everything in him said, finally, finally, finally, someone sees me, and he was reminded of why it was he owed Joseph so much. Because he gave him this.

“I’m—” John felt the words choke and stutter on the way out of him. It was almost too much—the finish line was in sight. Elliot had said, you can’t have both, but he could. He could, and he was going to, and it was here right in front of him.

Waiting.

“Thank you,” he managed out. “Thank you, Joseph. I only ever wanted to make you proud.”

“I know.” Joseph smiled, hand pressed against the back of John’s head, holding him gently. “I know.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Leaving the chapel, John was cruising on cloud nine; he had everything. Everything. Nobody was going to take it from him. No stupid cult, no last-minute hail mary’s from the opposing team—

As he passed by a window into the bunkhouse that had been Elliot’s before Burke had made it his home, John stopped and leaned against the siding of the house, tapping on the window. Burke was sitting at the table, leaned back, eyes closed; when the sound of John’s finger against the glass rattled again, he opened one eye.

John waved, and grinned. “Hi, bud.”

Burke stared at him. He gestured for the Marshal to push his window up, and after a few exasperated gestures, he did—reluctantly.

“Seed,” he said, tiredly. “Particular reason you’re not fuckin’ off?”

“Just wanted to stop by,” John replied slyly. “See how you were holding up. The impending apocalypse must be weighing heavily on you.”

Burke stared at him for a moment. He worked a toothpick between his teeth. His hands and feet were both cuffed, and the guards standing outside of the bunkhouse seemed to be concerned with his tone when he said, “Can’t wait to beat that shit-eating grin off of your face.”

“That’s not very professional,” John drawled. “Won’t that look poorly, in front of all of your little friends?”

“They’ll avert their eyes to let me give you some extra special attention.” Burke lifted his chin, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and spitting out the window, nearly landing on John’s shoes. “Promise.”

Impudent, John thought. Burke really just couldn’t let him have a moment, could he? “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Marshal,” he said, straightening up from the window and taking a step away. “I like it rough.”

And then he paused, turning on his heel like a swivel and lifted a finger thoughtfully.

“If you want some pointers on what I like,” he added pleasantly, “you can always ask Elliot.”

Burke’s eyes narrowed. “Your little brainwashed cultist? I think I’ll pass.” he asked, and John’s smile plummeted, wiped off of his face.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he hissed. “You’re the failing party here, Cameron Burke. You’re going to be the one suffering when the End comes for you.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Burke replied, “better get goin’, shouldn’t you?”

John’s teeth snapped together with a click, pain shooting up through his jaw as his molars ground. Petulant and arrogant, all the way to the very end, wasn’t he? He supposed that made it a little bit better that Jacob was going to off him.

He had everything he wanted, and not even Cameron Burke was going to take that from him.

John flashed a smile, all teeth, and held his arms out. “I suppose I should,” he replied. “Have a nice ceremony tomorrow to prepare. Though, I don’t have to tell you—you’ll be there for it, won’t you? A front row seat and all.”

Even in the dark of the growing evening, he could see Burke’s jaw clench. The Marshal pulled back from the window and slammed it shut, signaling his exit from the conversation; if John had been in a worse mood, he would have stormed right in there and shown Burke exactly what the consequences were for trying to run the show.

But there wasn’t time, because just as he was debating the logistics of doing so, he heard a dog barking in the distance and the sound of familiar voices.

“Hi, John,” Faith sing-songed at him, swinging Elliot’s hand in her own as they approached. “Isn’t it a bit late? I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” John replied with a quick smile, which was not necessarily a lie.

“Too excited,” his sister agreed playfully. 

As they approached, he could see the circles beneath Elliot’s eyes had darkened. She really wasn’t sleeping, was she? Reaching up with his free hand as soon as she was close enough, he brushed some loose strands of hair from her face and guided her close, his fingers tangling into her hair at the base of her skull and his mouth finding her temple. Faith giggled and waved her fingers at Elliot, breezing past him on her way to the chapel.

He asked, “Did you enjoy your walk?”

“It was dark,” Elliot replied, by way of explanation. Boomer sniffed around their feet and then cocked his head, listening while his eyes fixed on the dark treeline. “What’s that?”

“Hm?” John asked, distracted by Boomer’s sudden alertness. “Oh, the envelope?”

“No, John, this stupid fucking Hot Topic belt I’ve seen you wear all the time.” Elliot pulled back to look at him, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Yes, the envelope.”

He opened his mouth to respond, trying to decide if he wanted to be upfront with her about it or not; he was so caught up in his decision that he didn’t even have the time to be offended by her remark about his belt before he said, “We should go back to our house, don’t you think? The company here’s a little sour.”

Elliot’s gaze swept around curiously, and when she spotted Burke through the window, she said, “Ah.”

“You never did tell me how your talk went,” he added, taking her hand and beginning to pull her away. “Good? Bad?”

The blonde watched him for a moment, like he’d said something a little too suspicious. “It really bothers you when you don’t know what exactly is going on, doesn’t it?”

John feigned a pleased smile. “It’s my job to know what’s going on.”

“I thought it was your job to talk incessantly?”

“I am multi-faceted.”

They reached the door to their shared space—and that was a nice little thought, their space, like they had a place that belonged to the two of them—and as Elliot stepped inside, she said, “Burke wanted to know what had happened.”

John closed the door behind them, pausing and looking at her for a moment; he tried to glean any insight he could out of her expression, but he couldn’t. He could only see quiet exhaustion sitting on her face, just there, just within his reach.

“And?” he prompted, when she failed to elaborate. She walked into the bathroom and turned the water on, washing her face; quickly, John opened the envelope and thumbed through the documents until he found what he was looking for. He slid the paper beneath the nightstand beside the bed and shut the envelope, smoothing the metal pins out. There, he thought, like it was never opened.

“I told him the truth,” Elliot replied from the bathroom, shutting the water off. “About the Family. About—you. And your siblings.”

“Well, he did refer to you as my ‘little brainwashed cultist’, so I imagine that conversation didn’t go well.”

The blonde stepped out of the bathroom, crossing her arms over her chest and watching him for a moment. That was answer enough, he supposed—whatever friendliness had lingered between Elliot and Burke seemed to have been decimated by the reality of their situation.

“What’s in the envelope?”

“It’s your file,” John said, plainly. Elliot’s jaw tensed.

“My file,” she reiterated.

“Yes. All of the things Joseph had on you before, including your confession to him and some papers they found in Kian’s bag of belongings. Back in the woods.”

Her eyes flickered, and she exhaled, long and tired. He could tell that she didn’t like that he had it. She had so desperately tried to keep him from knowing what it was that haunted her, though he had mostly pieced it together by now—an ex-boyfriend gone bad, the resulting fallout, all wadded up into a tiny ball of trauma that sat right in her ribs. All of those times Elliot had tried to cling to those shreds of control—and everything about her had been handed to him in a manila envelope. He imagined that it was quite frustrating.

John offered, “I haven’t looked at it.”

“Why not?”

“I thought,” he began, carefully, “that you might want it. For yourself.”

Elliot looked at him warily. “You’re just going to give it to me?”

“Elliot,” he said as he closed the space between them, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I’ll give you anything you want.” John reached up, brushing his fingers against the slope of her neck, feeling the way her pulse jumped at the contact. “Besides, I have you. What do I need the file for?”

He wanted it. He wanted to read her file, learn every gritty detail about her, memorize them the same way she’d memorized his scars and tattoos with her fingers; to know her, inside and out, so that there wasn’t a single dark corner of her that he didn’t have completely.

“Throw it away,” Elliot murmured. “I don’t want it. I don’t want it anywhere. Please, just throw it away.”

“If that’s what you really want,” John agreed.

“It is.”

She leaned up and kissed him; her hands cradling his jaw and pulling him there, her mouth soft and compliant against his. He dropped the envelope in favor of getting both of his hands on her, walking her back against the nearest wall and sliding his fingers beneath the hem of her sweater. Elliot’s breath stuttered and hitched prettily, but she pulled back until her mouth was just out of his reach.

Still, though her head was tilted otherwise, her fingers tugged on the front of his shirt and crowded him against her, close. If he thought about it too hard—about the way they had begun, hissing and spitting, and how they were now—he’d have thought he was dreaming, how she wanted him in her space now.

“Let’s go,” the blonde said, her voice urgent. “Tonight. To the ranch.”

“You—” John paused, watching her. “You want to go tonight? Why not tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to be here,” she murmured, “in the compound. I want—”

Elliot stopped, then, worrying her lower lip between her teeth for a moment. “I want to have some time,” she continued, “with you, before... Everything. Just us.” Her mouth twisted in what John thought could only be a playful smile. “Like old times.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, narrowing his eyes amusedly. “Which times are those? The times where you told me to go fuck myself, or—”

“I think you liked it.”

“Your mouth is one of my favorite things about you, yes.”

���So,” she continued, “can we go tonight?”

John, propped up against the wall with her caged between his arms, studied her for a moment. It wouldn’t be bad to get some time away from the compound that wasn’t some kind of macabre venture out into Fall’s End, haunting her with all of the things she used to have and had once been.

“Sure,” he said finally, “I don’t see why not. Just a little time for us.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Though he had been less than thrilled about the idea of Elliot being outside of the compound, Jacob had confirmed that the ranch was cleaned out of bodies and ready for them. When they swept past Burke in the bunkhouse, watching them through the window, John’s eyes went to Elliot—trying to see if there was anything in her expression, trying to see if there was a blink of affection or recognition.

There wasn’t. Elliot walked past without looking at the U.S. Marshal and swung into the driver’s side of the truck, and when John reached across the console to drop the keys in her hand, her gaze and expression were clear of any cloudiness.

When they got to the ranch, it was quiet; the lights had been left on, and while John knew that the bodies were gone and cleaned out, he still braced himself for impact when they walked in. The bookshelf had been righted again, and the strong smell of cleaning solution lingered in the air, but for the most part, everything was exactly where he’d left it.

It was a shame, then, that soon they’d be slipping underground.

“Bleach,” Elliot said, walking up the stairs after him. “How romantic.”

“It’s your mess they were cleaning,” John replied dryly, flashing her a grin over his shoulder. “In case you forgot.”

“I didn’t.”

He pushed the door open to the master bedroom, taking in a little breath and turning to look at Elliot. She was inspecting the room, and for a second, John almost felt self-conscious—that she was here, now, with him. In his home. Touching his things. Looking at him.

It was almost unnerving to think about; that some time ago, she had been viciously looking for any way out. But of course, she had come around. She was always going to come around, one way or another. He thought about the way she’d spit Go fuck yourself, John, the way she’d tried her hardest to be as obtuse and unhelpful as possible, how she’d said in the bar you can’t have both but here he was.

Here she was.

There was only one thing left standing in the way, and it was something he had all the power in the world to change if he wanted to.

“What are you thinking about?” the blonde asked, arching a brow at him loftily.

“You,” John said, and it wasn’t a lie. Her lashes fluttered and she almost looked shy, for a moment; when he reached out and tugged her close by the belt loop of her jeans, he added, “What do you think about getting married?”

With her hands steadying herself on his chest, she barked out a laugh. “In general? Or us getting married?”

“Primarily the latter.”

“I—” Elliot blinked, and shook her head. “I don’t... What do you mean, what do I think about us getting married?”

“Do you like the idea?” John prompted. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the slope of her jaw.

“We’ve barely been together,” she murmured. “And—you still piss me off.”

“That’s amore.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Elliot groaned, and John grinned, sliding his arms around her to pull her closer still. He hoisted her up into his arms and carried her to the bed; when he’d settled her there, on her back and with her legs looped loosely around his waist, she watched him for a moment. “I don’t know. I’ve never wanted to get married.”

John cocked his head. “Not even once?”

“Not even once.”

“And why not?”

“Why would I?” she retorted. “The only marriage I ever saw was my dad dragging my mama’s credit through the dirt and then fucking off the second he got tired of playing house. Giving up my last name to someone? Letting someone take that away from me?”

John leaned down, pushing her sweater up and pressing his mouth to the curve of her hip cutting up and over her jeans. Her breath stuttered for a moment, and she squirmed when he let his tongue slide along one of her scars.

“I know this is going to sound crazy,” he said, “but marriage isn’t all about giving. It’s about receiving, too.”

He watched the heat crawl into her cheeks, undoing the button of her jeans and sliding them down until they pooled on the floor with a whisper. She said she’d never wanted to get married, but he thought after tomorrow—after she saw how beautiful it would be, to have her sin revealed and in the open—she would change her mind. For him, she would.

Elliot let out a sharp, stuttering breath. “Come here,” she said, tugging on him a little to guide him back up to her. He obliged, and she tangled her fingers into his hair and kissed him; long and patient, lips parting beneath his and her tongue flickering playfully against his mouth. She skimmed her fingers along his chest, down until she could undo his belt and pull it from the loops, discarding it on the floor.

“Miss Honeysett,” John murmured.

“John,” she replied, as her fingers deftly undid his jeans.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“You did take my pants off.”

He laughed, the sound sweeping out of him just before Elliot pulled him down into another kiss. She shifted and squirmed against him, pushing and working with her fingers until they were skin on skin. There was a second, a heartbeat of time, where Elliot paused, her gaze flickering over him.

“I want—a home,” she said, her voice quiet, “with you. I don’t have one anymore, and I...”

John dragged his fingers along the exposed skin of her sternum, down and down and down, and she sucked in a sharp little breath the second he found exactly he was looking for.

“You have it,” he replied against her mouth, and a spike of heat sprinted up his spine when he beckoned his fingers against her and she whimpered. “You have it, El, I told you—”

Elliot’s nails dug into his shoulder and she said, “John,” and her voice plunged a little when she did, pitching high and sweet and just the way that he liked it; he mouthed a spot on her neck, sighing against her skin.

“Love those sounds you make,” he murmured. “So good for me.”

“Yes,” Elliot said breathlessly, turning her head so that their noses could brush, “yes, I am, for you—so, please—”

So, please, she said, so sweetly, wanting and hurting and needy as she clutched him, as her breath hitched in anticipation when John pressed up against her, slow and without urgency.

“Is this what you wanted to come here for?” John rumbled against her mouth, breathing unsteady. “So I could f—fuck you in peace and quiet?”

The blonde moaned her agreement as she kissed him. Her body arched up against his, impatient, and when he finally pressed into her all the way, she let out a sigh, her fingers twisting in his hair.

It was too good; too tight, too hot, and the way Elliot held him close, like she thought she was going to disappear if she didn’t keep her grip on him, made the trickle of heat turn into a wildfire splitting through his body. He groaned, the pace excruciating and delicious as he made sure to take each drag as slow as possible.

“F-Fucking—faster,” Elliot whimpered against his mouth, “John—”

“No,” he ground out, slotting his hips against hers tightly before drawing back out again. “You have to—I want you just like this, hellcat—”

She made a sweet keening noise and rocked her hips up, impatient; each time she did sent another sharp jolt of desire sprinting through him, and he bit out a low swear and gripped her hip with one hand.

“Brat,” he moaned. “Wants everything her way but can’t—f-fucking—behave.”

“Fuck you,” Elliot replied, but there was no real heat in her words; she said it in a broken, stuttering breath. “What if I want you faster? What if I want you to fuck me until you just can’t stand it—”

“Stop.” John gritted the words out between his teeth; if there was one thing that sent him to his undoing, it was Elliot and her filthy mouth. “God, you—fucking—”

Elliot dragged him in for a kiss, open-mouthed and slick and wanting, and she begged, “John, I want you so badly—I need—”

And her words stuttered for a moment, like she was catching herself before she could say something that she thought might be embarrassing. John’s hand came up and pressed to her jaw, tilting her face back to him so that he could see her; gazing at him through her lashes, flushed and lips kiss-reddened and eyes dreamy and dazed.

“Tell me,” he managed out, through the haze of his own pleasure. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” Elliot moaned, “I need you, John.”

“Fuck,” John ground out. He was powerless to go against her wishes when she was looking at him like that, and saying I need you, and twisting her fingers in his hair and—

And when he snapped into her, she sighed his name like a prayer, like he was holy, and he thought that it would have been a crime not to give her what she wanted. It was almost as good as taking it slow; hearing Elliot whimper yes yes yes into their liplock as he fucked her, rough and a little unforgiving, nearly sent him spiraling.

When he slipped a hand between them, dragging the pad of his thumb across the neediest part of her, he felt her tighten; closecloseclose, it said, and Elliot made a wrecked, desperate sound and kissed him just as she came unraveled, panting his name.

His followed close behind—it hit hard, a strange, empty moment just before the ricocheting pleasure rattled around in his skeleton. John buried his face into Elliot’s neck and moaned, gripping her tight to him, and she arched up a little into him and made him hiss.

“You,” he said breathlessly into her neck, “are getting too comfortable using that filthy mouth of yours to get what you want.”

She laughed, raking her fingers through his hair. “You like it.”

“I’ve said that I do.”

“How much?” Elliot idled, and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

“Wicked thing, aren’t you?” he asked, instead of answering her question. Her lashes fluttered, and when John leaned down and dragged his teeth against her pulse point, she made a soft, sweet sound, squirming in his arms.

“I’m going to sleep,” she announced. Having disentangled themselves and slipped under the covers, she settled back against the pillows and he was reminded, once again, of the dark circles lingering under her eyes. “Feels like I have slept a fucking wink in the compound.”

“Fine,” John agreed, kissing her temple. “You’ll need your rest for tomorrow, anyway.”

It took some time for them to fall asleep; Elliot slept more fitfully than he, and each time she shifted or sighed or rolled it woke him up, too. Eventually, the blonde settled with her face tucked against John’s chest, her fingers absently tracing over the shape of his scar until her breathing slowed and she drifted back off.

Sometime around three in the morning, she stirred, sliding out of bed and making her way to the bathroom. John reached over to the nightstand and picked up his watch to squint at it in the dark. He heard the sink running, and the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar.

“Can’t believe it’s almost the end of November,” he said, out loud and to no one in particular, though Elliot’s head peeked out of the bathroom. She’d wrapped herself in his robe, cinching it tight around her waist.

“It is?” she asked, tiredly. “What’s the date?”

“The twenty-first.”

Elliot stilled for a moment. A strange emotion swept over her face; he thought that it was almost sadness. “It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

John set the watch back down on the nightstand. “Well, perfect timing then. I just gave you an incredible birthday present. How old are you turning? And why do you look so terribly distressed?”

“Fuck off,” she muttered when he grinned at her. “Twenty-six, asshole.” And then, like an afterthought: “It’s just that normally by now, I’m—”

The blonde cut herself off, and then shook her head, rubbing her eyes tiredly and walking back into the bathroom to turn the water off.

“Elliot?” he called. “What is it?”

“Just weird,” she replied after a minute, “being... Having a birthday. Here. Like this.”

He settled back against the pillow. “Come back to bed.”

She did as he asked, obliging him as she slid back under the blankets and covers. The robe was still on, and he pulled at the hem of it playfully. Elliot somehow looked more tired than before; and her eyes didn’t quite meet his, like she was somewhere very far away from him.

“Looks good on you,” he murmured. “Blue’s your color.”

Elliot’s attention snapped to him. “Faith said the same thing.”

“Great minds.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting to the other side in bed so that John could tug her back against his chest, burying his face into her neck. When her breathing finally slowed a little, and regulated, John felt himself finally start to relax.

I can have both, he thought, as he began to drift back off. I can, and I will.

｡☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆｡

When Elliot awoke the next morning, the first thing that she thought was, I’m late.

It hit her differently in the cold light of day, to think her period was delayed. That’s probably what it was, anyway—a delay. Lots of things could fuck around with the timing of a period, right?

The second thing she thought was, today’s the day.

Things did seem oddly calm, as they went about their morning; they showered, and John kissed her smelling like expensive soap, and his hands went to the places he loved the most—her hips, her hair, her jaw. It was like they’d fallen into a routine with each other, in just this short period of time; but then, she supposed, that was very natural to have happened, considering that they spent so much time with each other now.

“We should do it downstairs,” Elliot said as John busied himself with some coffee. Boomer had sprinted outside at the first opportunity, taking off into the treeline to burn some of his energy off.

“Downstairs?” he asked, glancing at her. “In the room?”

“Seems fitting.”

He shrugged, sliding a cup of coffee her way and leaning across the counter. “Whatever you want, baby.”

The sound of car doors closing and voices outside stirred her attention away from John’s mouth—a wholly distracting thing—but when she turned to see the Seeds walking through the front door of the ranch, she felt her stomach plummet.

“Brought a plus one,” Jacob announced, shoving Burke forward. “Hope you don’t mind.” He fixed Elliot with his gaze. “Caught him snooping around the chapel. Isn’t that weird?”

“I—” Elliot’s brain fuzzed viciously, static biting through all other noise. Burke’s lip was split and he had a nasty black eye forming. Oh, no, she thought, oh, no, no, no, no. This is so fucking bad.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I couldn’t trust anyone to keep an eye on him, so unfortunately, that is now my job.”

“No,” Elliot said abruptly, drawing all eyes on her. “I’m—I don’t want him here.”

“Elliot,” John murmured.

“Then what do you propose I do with him?” Jacob demanded.

“I don’t know, that isn’t my fucking job,” she snapped. With the siblings all looking at her, Burke took a second and very gently, very resolutely, shook his head no.

Her mind went frantic. What does that mean? Does that mean stop kicking up a fuss? Does that mean he got to the radio? Or that he didn’t? What the fuck is the plan, now?

Joseph said, gentle, “I’m afraid we just can’t afford to lose track of him, Elliot.”

She felt fingers brushing hers. John had come around the kitchen island, and now their fingers were interlaced. It felt like she was on some kind of precipice, some great, plunging cliff into a void, and all she could do was stand by hopelessly as everything pushed her towards the edge.

She didn’t want Burke to watch. She didn’t want him to see her let John carve WRATH into her skin, but most of all—most of all, she didn’t want Burke to see that maybe it would feel good, for her, a catharsis.

“Fine,” she managed out after a moment, watching Burke’s eyes flutter shut in what might have been relief. Or suffering. “Fine, whatever.”

“Well,” Joseph murmured, “shall we get started? There’s a full day ahead of us.”

As they moved down the stairs, Elliot swallowed thickly and tried to clear and compose her brain. Everything did feel just a little bit like it was too much. Joseph there, his shoulder brushing hers; Faith and John, chatting like it was nothing to have her sit down in a chair in the middle of the room where she had been kept captive; Jacob, shoving Burke into the room and on his knees.

It was too much. She would just have to pray that Burke had gotten a chance with the radio before Jacob found him.

“We’re going to have to take your shirt off,” John said, moving into her vision, and didn’t sound like he regretted that in the least. A little rush of relief coursed through her when she realized she’d be able to focus on someone familiar—none of Joseph’s prying eyes or Faith’s sweet smiles to unsettle and unseat her. Just her, and John.

“How long is this going to take?” Burke asked, his voice bordering on vicious. Jacob gave him a little jostle.

“Why? You got somewhere to be, friend?”

Elliot barely heard them. Her eyes, her thoughts, were on John; when her shirt was discarded to the side, he skimmed his fingers along her sternum, eyes bright.

“It’s going to look so good,” he murmured, and she knew that he wasn’t paying attention to them, either. He’d seemed disappointed when she asked someone else to be there, but now, it didn’t seem like it mattered at all. “Ready?”

She nodded, feeling a little swoon of adrenaline kick through her body when John left the room and returned with a knife. John looked at her expectantly. The physical acquiescence wasn’t enough.

“Yes,” Elliot said, and John’s eyes fluttered closed just for a moment before he leaned forward and kissed her—hard and open-mouthed, his fingers bruising where they gripped her shoulder.

“Fucking Christ,” Burke ground out, and John pulled away with a wicked grin.

“You and me,” he murmured against her lips, and she nodded.

John sat down. Over his shoulder she could see Burke, sitting on his knees, his face resolutely turned to the side. She turned her gaze away, too, because she didn’t want to see—didn’t want to see Burke sitting there, biting his tongue and trying not to look at her, look at her scars and the one John was going to give her and—

The sting of the first cut barely registered through the fog of her brain. It didn’t quite hit, and then her eyes flickered down and she saw the first stream of red, and it really hit, immediately slicing through the fog of adrenaline to hit sharper, harder, nastier.

Elliot exhaled a stuttering breath. It felt exactly the same as she remembered; it wasn’t so soft, on her chest like this, but it wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation to her either. Something in her brain tripped at the pain, neurons firing rapidly; we know you, they said, as John meticulously carved the W into her skin, we know you, pain, we missed you, missed you missed you missed you.

“John,” she said, because there was a burst of panic going off in her brain like fireworks. The two parts of her—the one that self-preserved, and the one that craved this exact sting and bite—wrestled with the reality of her situation: that she was both doing and not doing the thing she had tried to deprogram out of herself.

“So good, hellcat,” John murmured, his eyes fixed on his work as he started on the R. He was fixated; he was somewhere far away from her, even as close as he was. “It’s going to look so good on you.”

And behind him, Jacob said, “C’mon, Burke, don’t you want to see what your little deputy asked for?”

“Fuck. You,” Burke bit out.

The sting, the bite; the push and pull. Elliot breathed her way through each excruciating moment, and they were excruciating, these moments, because John was utilizing every second that he had her here, like this.

And that was fine. She needed him to; both for her sake, and for Burke’s. 

Something sounded like thundering up ahead, distant but out of place. It gave her a little jolt of panic. If that was what she thought it was, then—

Elliot saw Jacob’s eyes flicker up to the ceiling, narrowing; she managed out, “Slow down,” just as John paused too, to draw his attention back to her. 

“Slower?” John asked, and the way he said it felt intimate, with his eyes fixed on her and his fingers red with her blood.

“Please,” Elliot breathed. Jacob looked at her for a moment, long and hard, but she didn’t meet his eyes; only looked at John, only waited patiently for him to begin.

After a moment, John said, his voice pitched low, “Anything you want.”

“I’ll be back,” Jacob said. He dropped his hand from Burke’s shoulder; John made a non-committal uh-huh sound, finishing off the unsteady cross of the T. She hissed, squirming in her seat at the pain, drawing Jacob’s attention for just a second long before he made his way out of the room.

The H followed next. As soon as he finished, John pulled back to admire his work; there was still a bit of bruising, but most of it was up on her shoulder, not her chest, which was now doused in crimson. Wiping his hands off with a towel, he beamed at her; all teeth and bright eyes.

“What a relief, don’t you think?” Joseph asked, his voice idle and distracted as he glanced up at the ceiling inquisitively. “To have it all out there.”

John flashed a smile at his brother, clearly pleased. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said to Elliot, coming to a stand. “We’ll have to let it heal for a while to see how it’s going to scar, and then we can go back in and—”

Before John could finish his sentence, Elliot heard the sound of car doors slamming outside, and Jacob’s voice, asking something in a demand, and then a volley of responses: it was hard to hear, a floor down, but she thought they were saying get down, get down.

“What is going on?” Joseph asked, his voice verging on something other than cool and calm, and the sound of it filled Elliot with a bright spark of joy: yes, she thought viciously, coming to a stand and feeling around for her shirt while her eyes stayed on the Seeds, yes, you fucking cockroach, squirm.

“I don’t know,” John said, stepping toward the door. “Stay here.”

He only took two more steps before the sound of Jacob shouting something above them, followed by a gunshot, and then a loud cacophony of footsteps above them.

“Jacob,” Faith breathed, her eyes wide and panicked. “Something’s happened, Father, we have to—”

“Stay,” John barked out, suddenly all business as he was hauling Burke up to his feet. “I think our friend the Marshal would like to take a look first, make sure nothing is dangerous.”

But Burke was grinning when his feet righted themselves on the ground. He sucked his teeth, looked directly at Joseph, and said, “Time’s up, fuckhead.”

Burke’s words send her stomach somersaulting. So he had gotten to the radio. He had, just in time, which meant he’d been caught just after, and now—

Now he was here, and so were all of the Seeds, too.

I fucking did it, she thought hazily, bracing herself on the chair. Holy shit. I fucking did it.

The sound of footsteps storming down the stairs made John’s eyes flicker to the doorway, and he let go of Burke, gripping the bloodied towel loosely in his hands.

Her heart was thundering in her chest. It was hard to think through the haze of pain, the stinging and burning of the cuts on her chest, but it was there, if she tried hard enough to look: hope.

But Joseph wasn’t looking at John. He was looking at Elliot.

“You,” the Father hissed, as Elliot pulled the shirt away from her chest, sticky-wet with blood. “You did this. I know you did, you fucking locust, I knew it the second you stepped foot in my chapel—brought us all here, rounded us up like lambs for the slaughter—”

“What do you mean?” John demanded. “Elliot has been with me since this whole—”

Things moved very quickly, then: through the fog of pain, Elliot heard one, two, three heavy thuds against the door before wood splintered and came crashing down, the instant array of green sights set on them—all of them, her included—and the sound of voices demanding their hands go up.

Elliot watched Joseph, hands at his sides.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Joseph ground out, his voice vicious, the rage splitting across his face almost as delicious as the fear. Faith was crying, and saying something through her tears, as John lifted his hands obediently.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see one of the SWAT members hauling Burke out of the room first. She looked at Joseph and arched a brow at him, lifting her hands obediently when the order was shouted again. 

“Oh, Father,” she sighed, her voice cloying and sweet and just between the two of them, “did God not tell you about this part?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Things were going poorly.

That is to say, Jacob had a gunshot to the shoulder that was currently being patched while he was in handcuffs—“Can’t have you bleeding out on us, can we?” the medic said, a little too gleefully, until Jacob said something along the lines of I’m gonna rip your fucking face off—and Faith was crying, and Joseph was seething, furiously whispering to himself and held in place by one of the other U.S. Marshals.

Elliot was in cuffs, too, but Burke seemed to be talking furiously with the man who had cuffed her, occasionally interrupted when Elliot would try and draw his attention back to John.

This won’t do, he thought, as panic pounded through his body, as his heart hammered against his chest. All of his siblings, in handcuffs, and Elliot too; she was, too, but she looked—

Fine.

She looked fine, and he thought about what she’d said. You can’t have both, and then she’d immediately gone back on that. Of course she had. Of course, because she was wretched and wicked and clever, and she had never truly let go of her hatred for Joseph, but they were married. They were married, and the U.S. government was going to know about it before they stuck her on a stand to testify against any of his siblings.

“I need to speak to her,” John said to the officer holding him. “The woman, there. That’s my—”

“You don’t need to do anything,” the man replied sharply, “except shut your mouth and wait patiently for us to load you and the rest of your fucking brood into the van.”

“She’s my wife,” John bit out viciously. “And she’s in cuffs, I would like to speak with my wife—”

“What did you just say?”

It was Elliot’s voice, sharp and clear and splitting through the distance between them. In the chilly Autumn afternoon, John felt the spike of pure adrenaline race through him at her tone, at the way her head snapped to him and she shouldered her way past Burke. The officer had taken her cuffs off.

Burke said, “Rookie,” in warning, but it didn’t matter, John knew; they had never been able to ignore each other, in love or in war.

“I said,” John reiterated, “you’re my wife.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Elliot demanded.

“That night,” he began urgently, “that night that you were feeling unwell after your walk with Faith, and we talked about leaving—”

Elliot started, her voice hitching, “John, what did you do—”

“—we talked about other things, too,” he plunged on. “I didn’t tell you, Elliot. I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be the right time. I was going to tell you today, after we were done—I was going to tell you that we talked about it and I asked you if you wanted to marry me, and you told me yes—”

“Stop,” she moaned, agonized. “Stop—fucking—talking—you didn’t, John, you fucking didn’t lie to me again about this thing that you know I hate—”

“And you signed the certificate. It’s back at the compound,” John finished, trying to lean around the officer. “We’re married. You and me, hellcat, just like we say, you and—”

He saw the slap coming before it hit, but it definitely took a few seconds for the pain to actually register in his brain. And oh, then it hit; Elliot had swung her hand with the same amount of force she might have if she were close-fist punching him, but her palm connected with this side of his face and sent a sharp, red-hot shot of pain blooming and blurring behind his eyes.

Dazed, John blinked and tried to focus his attention again as the officer jostled him out of her reach. He was vaguely aware of Burke moving toward them as Elliot gritted out between her teeth, “How fucking dare you.”

“Ell,” John said, and there was blood in his mouth, his lip split from the impact of her hand. “Listen to me—”

Burke, louder and closer: “Elliot.”

“No, you listen to me, you fucking rat!” Elliot’s voice was pitching higher in volume, and higher in frequency and hysteria. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I told you, I fucking told you what was going to happen if you lied to me again—you fucking—I’m going to fucking kill you—”

John saw Burke sling an arm around Elliot’s waist just as she lunged again, seething and furious, holding her tight against his chest as she clawed at his arms to get free. His mouth against her hair, he said, “Rookie, take a breath.”

“You take a fucking breath!”

He hauled her, all five feet and four inches of her, turning her away from John, like breaking her eyesight with him would save him the trouble of having to cuff her.

“Elliot,” John called, trying to lean past the officer, “I forgive you—”

“Fuck! You!”

“—marriage is hard work, but I know,” he continued, grinning when she finally pulled herself out of Burke’s grip, “that you’re just the woman for the job.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Every line in her expression was pulled tight with fury, and yes—John thought he should have told her sooner, maybe, but if she was going to find out, what better time to find out than in front of the very men who wanted to put her on the stand?

“Don’t you remember what you said last night? You need me,” he tried again, and he could tell the officer holding his shoulders was getting tired of him leaning around all the time. “I love you, Elliot, through sickness and in health, no matter how many—”

“Oh, John,” Elliot breathed out, like she almost couldn’t get a full lungful of air, she was so out of breath. She swayed on her feet exhaustedly, her mouth twisting around the next sentence that came out of her mouth: “I want a fucking divorce.”

The words plunged John straight into a panic, the kind that made it feel like there was a feeding frenzy going on under his skin. This was not how things were supposed to unfold. This was not how it was supposed to go. Elliot was going to be upset, sure—but he had taken great pains to make sure that she knew he was the only thing left for her, after it all. She was supposed to upset, and then see that it had been for her, it was always for her, for them. Everything he’d done, every step he’d taken, every—

She’s mine, he thought, his face still stinging, dull and hot, from her slap. Burke was saying something to her. That’s my fucking wife, whether she likes it or not.

No one was going to take her from him. Not Joseph or Jacob, not Cameron Burke, not even her. No one was going to put a serial murderer and the wife of a religious group’s lawyer on the stand. He’d make fucking sure of that.

“You think you’re gonna move on from this, El?” he demanded, managing to shoulder around the officer to make eye contact with her. His voice came out tight, sharp—slowly and purposefully careening, but he hated the strike of strange hysteria that wormed its way in there, too. “I watched you slaughter at least a hundred people in the name of “justice”—you beat a man to death with a blunt object, and you liked it—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Elliot ground out. She made to move at him, nails digging into her palms, but Burke hooked his arm around her waist and hauled her back again, much like before.

“You think you’re gonna move on and meet some nice little country boy who’s gonna love you even with all that fucking red in your ledger?” Oh, he was careening—all of the control slipping out from between his fingers, like sand. “No fucking way, baby, I’m it for you!”

“Rook,” Burke said, but there was no follow-up which made it worse; Burke said one word—one tiny little pet name—and Elliot’s attention immediately snapped to him.

John had never been made to feel like he was nothing; not like this.

“Look at me,” he snapped, and Elliot’s eyes turned to him; but he saw the fury split across her face, the absolute indignant rage. “You’re going to spend one day back in polite society and come unglued, Elliot Honeysett, and when you fucking do—you’ll be begging for me to take you back, and I guarantee you I fucking won’t.”

“That’s enough,” Burke said, but he was speaking to Elliot, looking at her.

“Maybe,” she hissed, pushing at Burke’s arm as blood seeped through the wound on her chest “you should have considered how I would react to you being a pathological liar before you fucking came inside me, you cunt.”

Her words sent a strange, uncomfortable sensation sprinting down his spine. She couldn’t be, John thought, alluding to—

But she had been surprised when he told her it was her birthday, like she hadn’t realized what day it was, and had said something like, normally by now I’m, and just hadn’t finished her thought. 

“Okay.” Burke pulled her back a few more steps, his voice strained. Pulled her away from him. “We’re taking a walk. You and me, Rookie.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” John called after her, panic rising in his voice. “Elliot? Tell me what you—”

“I mean I’m late, fuckhead,” Elliot spit at him over Burke’s shoulder.

The officer pulled him back towards the truck, dragging him by his arm as Burke took Elliot around the corner of the ranch house. His stomach was lurching nauseatingly, trying to piece it together. Had it been long enough? Of course, it had—it had been over a month, probably, maybe even more because he didn’t know how to keep track of time when he’d been drugged and kidnapped and dragged around.

If she is, he thought, frantic; if she does have my child, if she’s—

“John,” Joseph said, his voice eerily quiet as he was pushed into a sitting position across from his brother. He seemed to have recovered from his outburst earlier; there was an odd grimness about his expression. “We must remain focused.”

“She—” John blinked rapidly, trying to gather his fraying, desperate thoughts. “Joseph, she might—”

Joseph lifted a finger to his lips to signal silence. Jacob’s breathing was labored but controlled, and Faith’s gentle crying had been snuffed out. She’d only been the damsel for a few minutes before she tried to storm her way out of their grip.

“The task at hand,” Joseph cautioned him. “Then, we will figure out what to do for your son.”

My son. The words echoed hazily in his brain as the van doors slammed shut, eclipsing them.

“How do you know?” John demanded. “You know? You know that she’s—with my—”

“Of course,” his brother replied, still keeping his voice soft.

“God told me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Take a breath.”

“No.”

“Rookie.” Burke’s voice was hard. “Look at me and take breath.”

She couldn’t. Every inch of her body was screaming—desperate for a reprieve, but there was none to be had because she was still nursing her WRATH wound, because she was heaving out great, panicked breaths between ragged cries.

“I can’t,” Elliot moaned, her hands shaking, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”

Burke snagged her hand and pressed it to his neck, just like before, but this time it didn’t do anything; this time, she just felt the spiral hit harder, the overwhelming sensation of touching and being touched sending her brain sprinting in panic.

She yanked her hand out of his grip and clutched her knees to her chest, ignoring the warm seep of blood even against the bandages the medic had patched her with and the sting of the pressure of her bones pressed up against the wound.

Burke stayed, and she noticed. He stayed, and he didn’t have to—he was done, free, could leave and go home—but he stayed sitting there with her, against the side of the Seed ranch, wherein many ways, things for her had began.

So, she cried; she sobbed into her jeans until she thought she was going to be dizzy from gasping for air, and Burke stayed, and waited until her hand fumbled for his blindly before he touched her again. His fingers gripped hers, firm and soothing.

“Is it true?” he asked, when she had stopped her crying, when she had breathed so much there was too much oxygen in her brain. His gaze flickered over her. “That you’re… With that fucker’s…”

“I don’t know,” Elliot replied, exhausted. “I’m—fuck, I’m late, and I didn’t realize until yesterday, because it’s been so fucking—”

Burke passed his free hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry,” and the words came out of her agonized; because she could hear the disappointment in his voice, or what she thought was disappointment. “I thought—I thought he—Burke, I—”

“I know, Rook,” Burke murmured, not unkindly. “Just focus on breathing. I know.”

A few more moments of silence passed between them, filled only with the sound of voices and out and the kick of an engine starting and pulling out from the ranch. After her breathing had evened out again, Burke said, “They’re going to be retrieving Kian’s body.”

Elliot stared at the ground, feeling numb. He didn’t have to say; she knew what that meant. Government officials were going to see what she’d done to Kian. They were going to see it, and see that she was legally married to one of them, and see that she was carrying the child of one of them, and see her history, and all of these things were going to add up.

The picture was not going to be a good one.

“I’ve gotta take you in, Rook,” Burke said quietly. “At the very least, to a therapist.”

She sniffed. I love you, John had said, after he’d lied. Lied, and lied, and lied, and used her, and lied, and if he loved her, he didn’t love her in any way that she understood.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah.”

“I know what you’ve been through, and you know I’ll vouch for you. I saw firsthand the kind of—the shit that was going on,” he insisted. “I just—want you to have a realistic picture of what it’s gonna look like, when we get back. They’re gonna autopsy Kian’s body, and—”

She took in a long, suffering breath. “I’m really tired,” Elliot said, her voice breaking a little. “Can we—are we going straight there, or?”

Burke paused, his expression softening, and shook his head. “We’ll hit a motel or two along the way.”

Elliot nodded, closing her eyes and pressing her face back into her knees. She stayed like that for a while; it was hard to tell how much time passed, but eventually, someone came around the corner and said something to Burke, and he tugged her to her feet and walked her to the car.

The sensation of Burke’s hand slipping out of hers sent another burst of panic flooding through her; her body was so tired, so very fucking tired of managing the adrenaline, but the more she tried to calm down the more tired she got.

“I want to stay with you,” she said, feeling hazy and tightening her hand around Burke’s. The Marshal looked at her for a long moment and then nodded.

“Alright, kid,” he murmured, reaching up and squeezing her shoulder. “We’ll stick together.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Time passed differently, after that. Elliot couldn’t have said how long it took them to get to the first motel; it couldn’t have been seconds, or minutes, or months for all that she knew. She was numb when they set her up in a motel room with two beds, she was numb when they checked her scar and redressed it.

“Fucking Christ,” the medic said under his breath when he saw the WRATH wound, still hot and trying its best to scab over. “You poor thing.”

It’s not me, Elliot thought miserably, opening her mouth; but no words would come. All she could think was, I asked for this, I’m not the poor thing, please don’t.

“Hey,” Burke barked out, his voice sharp as he took in Elliot’s crumpling expression. “Let’s get it cleaned and let her sleep, buddy.”

The medic nodded, thoroughly scolded, and worked quickly after that. When he’d finished and she had swallowed two Tylenol dutifully, Burke watched her climb under the covers of the bed and said, “I’ve gotta make a call. You okay in here?”

She swallowed thickly. He was looking at her like he was wary of her. The same way Whitehorse had looked at her.

“Yeah,” Elliot murmured. “I’m fine.”

He gave her a tight, tired smile and then stepped out of the motel room, closing the door behind him. Silence lingered there for a little while; Elliot tried to close her eyes and sleep, her fingers brushing through Boomer’s fur as he dozed, but the low, murmuring sound of Burke talking just outside stirred her anxiety, and each time she closed her eyes she just saw John’s face.

John, holding her face and kissing her, You and me. John, burying his face into her neck, I love you.

John, their noses brushing, We can have a place to belong, Elliot.

John, vicious and unyielding, I’m it for you.

She lurched out of the bed, pushing her way into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her just in time to lean over the toilet and throw up whatever was left in her stomach—which wasn’t much, if the amount of dry-heaving were any indication. Bile burned at the back of her throat, and she thought if she didn’t get a breath of air she was going to fucking die.

Elliot pushed the window open and tried to steady her breathing. Rinsing her mouth out in the sink, she shut the water off and paused, looking at herself in the mirror.

The person that looked back at her was unfamiliar. A stranger. She blinked rapidly, trying to steady herself, but each time she did, she felt less and less familiar with the gaunt, sharp-faced, dark-eyed stranger gazing back at her from the mirror. Some bruises along her neck and shoulders still remained.

Who are you? She thought, tiredly. The one that killed all of those peggies? The one that killed Kian? Why don’t I recognize you?

“... understand that, sir, it’s just—if you saw what was going on...”

Burke’s voice drifted in through the window. He must have been pacing, because the volume of his words drifted and moved, as though he were walking around the corner and then back again.

His footsteps paused. “No, I have not read the autopsy report yet. I didn’t think it pertinent at this time, considering we only just—”

She heard Burke’s words cut abruptly, the sound of his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale, and then he said, “Jesus Christ. No, I didn’t know.”

Oh, she thought hazily, oh, he knows. He knows what I did.

Her body moved automatically. Something inside of her kicked—we’re not done yet, it said, ferocious and furious, sinking its teeth into her and operating her body outside of her own executive function. We’re not fucking done yet.

Elliot pulled her sweater and her shoes on. The late autumn chill drifting through the open window made her mind feel sharp, and clear, and she thought, somthing has to be done, and I’ll fucking do it.

She stuffed a couple of things that felt essential into a bag—painkillers, bottles of water from the fridge, Burke’s gun he’d left on the nightstand closest to the door—and then waited until she heard his footsteps pacing around the corner again before she ducked out of the window.

When she looked back, Boomer had already leapt through the window after her. His eyes were on her, bright, ready.

And then she ran.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

She’s twenty-six, and she’s in a bar.

Or that’s how it would go, anyway, if she was asleep. If she were dreaming, or remembering. But she wasn’t. Elliot was twenty-six, and she was in a bar, and she wasn’t waiting for her best friend to come back with a different drink, and she wasn’t making eyes at a handsome blue-eyed stranger from across the bar. He wouldn’t come over and call her beautiful, and he wouldn’t make her want to be kissed by someone whose face looked a little sharp, and she wouldn’t one day think that maybe she was in love with him.

I’m just a girl, she thought tiredly, staring at the water glass on the counter in front of her. This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

But it was. It was her life. Here she was, sitting in a seedy bar halfway to Georgia, with a U.S. Marshal’s gun she’d lifted sitting in her bag. She’d hitch-hiked a ride back into Fall’s End, grabbed what remained of her things—her ID, what little cash she still had on her, a debit card she was too paranoid to use, dog food—and then she’d taken the jeep parked out behind the Keller’s old place and drove.

And drove. And drove. And drove.

Now, she was twenty-six, sitting in a bar, and there is no Joey coming to rescue her, and there is no John to be a monster that she needed rescuing from.

I’m just a girl. This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

She left the cash for her water on the bar top, hauling herself out of the stool and back out into the parking lot. It was late; the sky was speckled with stars; if she thought hard enough, if she really thought about, Elliot thought maybe, somewhere inside of her, she was going to be okay.

As she climbed into the driver’s seat of the jeep, Elliot turned the key into the ignition and reached into a grocery store bag on the passenger seat, fumbling around for the cigarettes she’d purchased. Her fingers hit hard plastic and she glanced over.

The two little tiny lines on the pregnancy test stared back at her. Her stomach lurched, nausea welling up inside of her, and she tossed the hard plastic back into the bag and left the cigarettes untouched. Boomer, dozing in the back seat, pricked his ears forward and looked at her inquisitively.

She was just a girl. This wasn’t supposed to be her life. But it was—and there was only one place left to go from here.

Home.

#my writing #fic: ancient names #far cry 5 fic #fc5 fic #john seed/deputy #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #otp: death keep off; i am your enemy #not gonna melt down in the tags even though i wanna #just. thank you all so so so much. this has been incredible to write and enjoy and make so many friends #yes i am crying do not LOOK at me

[elecman108]

Man, I forgot to post 90% of my art here for the past while. I’m gonna do an art dump in this post under the cut. Enjoy the bonk emoji if you don’t click the read more, and man am I dumb and forgetful lmao.

Includes: OCs getting names, a Sonic impression, a D&D map, homosexual energies, a sheep floating in the astral sea, a birthday drawing I already posted, Hex Maniac Ender, D&D Characters, D&D Characters as Miis in Miitopia, Little Hater Axel, local Demon in the consciousness of my D&D character yelling at him, illegal plants, a necromancer being cute, an actual event that happened in a D&D game two days ago, and Mermay drawing.

That’s everything in here as a TL;DR, I guess. Enjoy your day!

I’m gonna try and sort of have them in chronological order, oldest first, but I may end up putting them in the wrong order. If I do... Whoops, I guess?

[04/14/21] - This isn’t really new art, but I started to work on giving the four OCs of mine without a full name full names... I have not finished this bit, though. So Hunter and Akira have full names, and Warlock and Assassin only have temporary names. This may end up like Seven where I put in their names as a temporary name (7th OC I’d made at that time) and it just kind of... sticks. Lmao.

[04/20/21] - Alone on a Friday Night? God, you’re pathetic. I didn’t colour this one because it was a half-attempt at a meme image I still like it, though, so I might end up colouring it. It’s gonna appear again whenever I do my “unfinished drawings art dump” at some point probably in... June? I know I said I’d post them last month but forget it, lmao, it’ll happen eventually.

[04/20/21] - A D&D Map! This was to help me visualize the layout of my D&D character’s ship he used to be on. Also for my DM if they ever put us aboard the ship. The little fella in the corner is just there to vibe. This map is made of free to use assets from This Website, so while I’m gonna say DONT USE MY MAP WITHOUT PERMISSION, feel free to make your own!

[04/26/21] - Lesbian Day of Visibility drawing of yours truly, the disapointment! That’s... really all I have to say about this, honestly. It was just for that one day and that was it, lmao. I mean, I accidentally lined it in dark pink, so.. .That’s different, I guess?

[04/30/21] - Do Astral Seas dream of Ensorcled Sheep? Does the City know what Sheepleb is going to do? What crimes he may commit? Who knows! This was fan art of Critical Role ep. 134 if I remember correctly, right at the end when they jumped into the portal into the astral sea and Caleb was a sheep. Using my knowledge of the German language, I knew the word for “shit”, and had to use it.

[05/07/21] - This was already posted, but it’s going in here to dilinuate that it was drawn at this point. Also, aside from playing Miitopia, this is all I have to show for myself until the 12th.

[05/12/21] - Hex Maniac Ender challenges you to a Pokemon Battle! WIll you win against my team? My sis, who loves fairy types, pointed out to me that there’s a fairy girl and hex maniac duo, so I’d be the hex maniac. I spent... Over a week drawing this, because I basically had to redraw the Hex Maniac art from scratch in a higher quality size, and then draw myself over it. So... You can excuse the low-effort background for once. It was basically this, and then my birthday doodle from May 1st to May 12th, and then I took a break to draw up several D&D characters quickly for fullbody references.

[05/12/21] - Remember this art I made several months ago? I finally added my other two completed characters! I have three more named but without character sheet D&D characters, so for now this is just Kara, Axel, Golden Shadow, Kau, Cecillia, and Miri. Kress, Tempest, and Melia will have to wait until I make character sheets for them to be posted, and... For when I probably make more D&D characters. I have at least 9 additional, incomplete character ideas floating around, so... I’m never gonna be done this art, huh?

[05/12/21] - Speaking of D&D characters, did you know I’ve been making them as Miis in Miitopia? So here is their finished full body art next to their Miitopia self! Some of them look a little off (Golden Shadow, Cecillia) because of limitations of the editor and shading issues, some of them look a little off (Kau, Kress) because this is a human face canvas that I’m using to make a non-human face, and some of them (Melia, Axel) look REALLY GOOD. Common traits among my D&D characters include green eyes and tall. You wanna know why? Because I am tall and... despite having red eyes, I do have green eyes under the coloured contacts.

[05/15/21] - More D&D stuff! This is based around my D&D group’s current Rime of the Frostmaiden campaign where our Goliath Fighter, Nioh, ends up getting a little bit of hate for being cocky, and our little (well over 6′) hater, Axel, is just a man full of irritation. These are the tallest two characters of the group at the moment. Someone send help. Nioh belongs to one of the other D&D players, Axel (and his stupid additude) belongs to me.

[05/15/21] - This is what me playing D&D feels like. Me, the demon entity trapped inside the head of my D&D character, yelling at them to do things while the dice decide that they’re gonna get bopped a hundred times by a yeti and somehow still survive. This is also a reference to our first or second game where I just ran off like sixty feet to one side of the battle map to fight a Crag Cat and was just in Gay Baby Jail until like two turns later when I could run back to the others. I also drew him not in his winter gear even though this is a bit from when we were atop Kelvin’s Carin in an icy cave, so maybe that’s why he’s at low HP.

[05/15/21] - Melia has good gardening tips, such as Use A Mars Mii Trap To Hide A Body Because They Are Endangered And It Is Illegal To Dig Them Up. I love her a lot, because she’s the youngest of four, all four sisters based around the different seasons. She’s based around Autumn, so she’s all orange and yellow and brown and is so cute. Also she’s Chaotic Neutral, as if she didn’t need to be mildly more threatening.

[05/15/21] - Cecillia is my Tiefling gal who lived in a very northern town plagued by cold weather and snow, and Axel is my Pirate guy who spent most of his time further south on the high seas and warmer weather. So, naturally... I’ll use the guy more acclimatized to the hotter weather in the campaign where we spend 99% of it in the snow. She uses Tarot Cards as her spell focus, and I decided to sneak my other D&D characters onto her Tarot cards so naturally, Axel is The Hanged Man, given his backstory and personality. She’s a very cheerful and friendly Tiefling Necromancer of the Hexblade, so she’d for sure take care of those around her to ensure their success. Especially if they’re on her Tarot Cards, and their spirit comes to her aid when she asks for them.

[05/16/21] - Content Warning; Ryma thinks too much into local stupid moron’s lack of knowing how to answer a question and thinks too much into the reputation of Pirates. Poor Axel, man doesn’t know how to socialize with people who aren’t pirates and is used to being hostile towards everyone, so when he’s asked a question that his answer to is “uhh... no?”, he panics and ends up making a mistake that leads him to think that Ryma can read his mind. Ryma belongs to another of the D&D players. I guess me drawing all those spicy Cow Costumed OCs earlier just brought me to drawing Axel being a bottom in this, huh?

[05/16/21] - It’s Mermay, which means more OC drawings! Here’s Theo after drinking some potion that turned him into a mermaid, and Seven, tiredly, collecting his stupid boyfriend so that Lailah can fix the fact he’s turned into a mermaid. Mer!Theo is based around his sword’s colours of indigo-purple with red accents, which looks a little weird since Theo is the Blue one of the group, but... it looks cool, I guess. Seven’s just the same outfit as always, just no gloves this time.

--

And that’s it for the art dump! This was, frankly, MASSIVE. I’ll try and remember to upload both on Twitter and Tumblr at the same time, but... Ah... I have been drawing a fair bit. Just mostly sketches and linework that I haven’t finished and may not actually finish. If they’re not completed, I’ll dump them all into something at the end of the month or whatever. Maybe you’ll get the old sketch of the Axel face in panel 3 because in the sketch phase it was an Ahegao face, in the clean sketch it was a lip bite, and in the linework and final it’s just horny face. lmao.

Top ten things I have to remember for drawing: AXEL HAS A SCAR AND GREEN EYES. I remember his eye colour now, but if you look at his fullbody ref, he’s got brown eyes. And, naturally, I keep forgetting to put in his scar. He has more, but most of them are located in areas covered by his clothes. So if I ever draw him shirtless I guess I’ll have to place them somewhere.

Also maybe finish the reference sheets I have left to finish so I can post more of them, since I have two “Pets” completed (Roko and Mona’s nameless pet), but I have to do up Hunter, Warlock, Assassin, Akira, Myuut, and Stella. I’m betting when I do complete two more, it’ll be Hunter and Akira. Those two are the most fun to draw, at least.

#the disappointment speaks #drawings by me #OCs #D&D #art dump #Miitopia #of all of these drawings I gotta say the most cursed is censored bottom!Axel and the most blessed is Cecillia's lap nap #I drew a lot of D&D stuff lately! Most of my OC stuff has stayed in the sketch stage so #I guess that says something about what I've been prioritizing in my drawings? #Also that drawing a twunk as a twink is incredibly funny and cursed. love my pirate boy

[heckoffmate]

Top 10 Best TF2 Shorts

In ascending order:

(Note: I'm not certain with the decisions made when I composed this list, but I made it and I'll stick with it, because it I try to make it perfect it'll never get done.)

10) Meet the Demoman

Reason: Not very noteworthy at all. I can't think of a single quote I've ever recited. I know them, but they're not quotable. However, I enjoy the part where a grenade activates as it rolls off the Demo's desk. So it's not as if it's terrible.

9) Meet the Heavy

Reason: Not very noteworthy either, but at least he yells, "WHO TOUCHED MY GUN?!" Very close competition to the Demo, I'll admit, but for that one joke I find this short more watchable.

8) Meet the Scout

Reason: It took me a full minute to realise I didn't include this on the list. My thought process was essentially, "There are 9 classes and Expiration Date, why is there an empty spot... OH, SCOUT!" To be honest, the material in his short is quite as mundane to me as the previous two, but at least he's got good quotes. A very quotable video.

7) Meet the Engineer

Reason: Since the Engineer is only in one location with no cutaways it can be a kinda boring video, but the dialogue is capturing enough. He makes good points and a really good joke ("Use more gun"). Also, he seems very friendly and open until the end, where his voice gets low as he borderline threatens the camera, and that's pretty badass.

6) Meet the Pyro

Reason: The animation is awesome, particularly the lighting. And we get the very meme-able "I fear no man" quote. Like, straight up though, I do really love this video, I love the gruesome violence and the pure horror exhibited by the BLU, hell, even the RED team. The only reason it's lower on the list is because it doesn't have enough good jokes. If we were rating these solely on how cool they look, it'd be first, but comedy is too important to me.

5) Meet the Spy

Reason: Solid, absolutely quality jokes. A whole string of beautiful ones at one point, "That would be your mother," "Now he's here to fuck us," and "Pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing that happen to you today." They're all within about three shots and they're hilarious. The fact that they are so close together adds to the comedy because it keeps the viewer laughing.

4) Expiration Date

Reason: Soldier. Is. Adorable. I love the Soldier as a character, but in this particular short they ignore the American soldier motif in place of the adorably stupid, senseless side of him. He misunderstands everything said to him, "We cannot teleport bread anymore," "We are going to live forever," overreacts in the beginning of the bucket scene, and took the suggest of teleporting bread literally. And his train of thought is just so off the tracks. All this man wanted was a bucket and to teleport bread. I could talk about his behaviour in this short for days. One scene commonly overlooked is his first lines in the short, "Oh, hello, Miss Pauling! We killed everyone and took a briefcase!" and "Goodbye, Miss Pauling. I am leaving the van now." God, I love him, I love him, I love him. Other than that, there's the "Seduce me" scene which is very funny, especially the part where he yells it. And god help me if him saying, "I'm a woman" won't always be funny.

3) Meet the Sniper

Reason: I put this especially high because I just can't get over the two good jokes in the short. They both have essentially the same punchline, but it's just so good. He accidentally shoots an enemy Demo's scrumpy, and the Demoman stumbles while shooting grenades wildly. The Demoman falls backwards, with the grenades landing on and killing him. The Sniper's only reaction to this turn of events is, "Oh." The events themselves were pretty hilarious, but that last word really seals it. The other joke I like is, "I think his mate saw me. *Bullets whiz past* Yes, yes, he did!" I believe what I like about it is the fact that it's pretty obvious the mercenary saw him, but the way Sniper has some witty remark at the end of a scene makes the whole thing complete. It's hard to explain.

2) Meet the Medic

Reason: The Medic is an awesome character. He's the most cheerful character and yet, with some tough competition between the Pyro and Soldier, the most batshit crazy. Whether or not he's the most insane, his insanity is certainly highlighted by his optimistic nature. He treats very serious matters during open heart surgery with a simple, "Oh, well". The man you're operating on is awake? Shrug. Your dove got inside his chest cavity? Birds will be birds. You've broken one of his ribs? No use crying over spilt milk. Also, he's the only character Heavy (You know, the big, aggressive guy who calls his enemies babies?) has allowed to call him a BABY while pinching his cheek snd that's pretty top.

1) Meet the Soldier

Reason: As previously mentioned, I love the Soldier, so obviously I'm going to put his short at the top of the list. It displays again his weird logic, explaining how Sun Tzu bought two of every animal on Earth then "beat the crap out of every single one." The facts in his head are obviously jumbled up. Yet he ties it all together with the explanation that everytime a group of animals are together in one place it's called a Tzu, which he mistook Zoo for. And the finishing "farm" line is just hilarious, and I can't even explain it. That's essentially the Soldier, I ramble on in this list trying to explain his appeal and why he's hilarious but he's just so... Magical.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #meet the demoman #meet the heavy #meet the scout #meet the engineer #meet the pyro #meet the spy #Expiration Date #meet the sniper #meet the medic #meet the soldier #heavymedic #red oktoberfest #top ten #rating #tier list

[simptasia]

lost characters based solely on how i portray them in my text post memes

jack: constantly crying and/or screaming. no emotional stability. no social skills. terrible bedside manner. endearingly bland. into powerful women. loves the red sox... a lot. daddy issues. doesn’t believe in himself. has shitty tattoos. being crushed under the weight of everybody’s expectations. more or less hot. he is not cool at all. repressed attraction to guys. chronic hero syndrome. adorably embarrassing as a dad. passionately and violently overreacts to the mere concept of people believing in things. mansplains but in a non malicious way because he is literally that oblivious. gets into fights a lot. dissociates in mirrors. gets injured a lot but doesn’t wanna make a fuss. thinking about caves

kate: desperate need to protect women. bi. is frustrated by jack and sawyer’s personalities but wants to fuck them oh so much. rowdy. feminist. biceps. will call you out. is love with claire and jack and sun and- she has a lot of love to give. she can be ur angel or ur devil. exasperated. doesn’t understand astrology but she’s trying. she’s the slytherin friend every hufflepuff needs. uses guns. doesn’t know how to cook. go to relationship advice is “dump him” or “suck his dick”.  just because you put things in her vagina doesn’t mean you know her. gemini

hurley: sad clown. haha laughter! hiding real pain! has debilitating mental illness. he’s doing his best to stay positive. virgin. genuinely kind soul. overwhelmed by food. awkward around girls he likes. much smarter and wiser than anybody thinks, including himself. a special boy who we all love. says dude a lot. the only valid rich person ever. doesn’t like himself. sees dead people. kinda silly. also he’s fat (but i don’t joke about it in a cruel way)

sawyer: compulsive need to nickname people. from the south. bewildered by charlie’s english slang. covering up vulnerability with jokes and being mean. loves juliet. is an asshole but a loveable asshole (this varies, mostly he’s an asshole). conventionally attractive to the point of boring. got a Thing going on with miles. can’t stand daniel being smart around him. babies freak him out. treats animals poorly

locke: very supportive and new agey type. i’ve made two jokes about him encouraging people to jack off, that wasn’t on purpose but Okay. he doesn’t know what its like to have friends. he says Deep Sounding but odd things. he’s super duper into nature. he suffers. he’s very forgiving of ben to the point of absurdity and he desperately wants ben to love and fuck him. or maybe they are fucking. Who Knows. he loves knifes

sayid: sexy, suffering shannon fucker. he doesn’t respect boone. his life is an endless parade of misery culminating in going on autopilot. respects women

jin: he has no idea what’s going on and his life revolves around sun

sun: beautiful. perfect. very passionate about gardening

claire: bi. frequently ignored. cutesy and sweet. super into astrology and new age stuff. her cheery demeanour can only hold on so long before she loses it. kinda dumb. has baby. vanilla, at least for now. loves charlie but is kinda frustrated by him. goes feral and “kitten thinks of murder all day” sums it up

charlie: that he needs attention and validation to survive would be a gross understatement. bi. trans. punk. stupid. english. really horny and slutty. adores music more than anything. drug addict (again, i refuse to be cruel). severe jealousy issues. inferiority superiority complex. hates himself but will get offended if you hate him. can’t take any form of criticism. is bewildered by sawyer’s american-isms. bit of a madonna whore complex. smol but will go the fuck off like a terrier nipping at ya heels. catholic and riddled with catholic guilt. goofy and obnoxious and he knows it. passive aggressive. terrified of bees. nice ass. mood swings. did i mention he’s short? anyway here’s wonderwall

ben: ugly. just plain terrible. beaten and bruised. seething with rage and pain on the inside. virgin. liar. just causes problems on purpose. resembles a lemur or rat, rodents in general. loves bunnies. doesn’t think sex is real. just a really bad idea for him to be around juliet. has no friends. doesn’t care about other people. says creepy shit just because. he knows he’s a terrible person. killed people. the friend nobody likes and a general nuisance to the other characters

(also my literal first text post meme about ben was a joke about him eating his parents??? 2014 sapphire, i wanna talk...)

juliet: mom friend. seems very calm but she’s screaming on the inside. basically she’s the This Is Fine meme. depressed. has big tits. low-key kinky. feminist in a very gentle way. has no ill will towards kate and will only fight her for fun. concerned for daniel’s well being. has no chemistry with jack. loves sawyer. flat measured calm way of speaking. she’s breaking apart at the seams but will offer you a nice glass of water :)))

michael: has a son..... uh...... enjoys minecraft?

(i’m sorry)

desmond: scottish. drinks. easily and constantly confused. magic psychic time powers, like visions and electromagnetic dimensional stuff. easily angered. fucked off by the concept of time and destiny in general. hhhhhhhot

smokey: Hello Fellow Humans I Promise This Is My Own Skin Haha

miles: bi. aro. loves money (trying to fill the hole in his heart with money and things). emo/punk. pretends not to care but he really does care. thinks emotions and romance are dumb but of course is emotional... and kinda wants love. but not that he LIKES you or anything. exasperated. thinks everybody else is weird. kinda slutty or at least trying to be. masochist and into BDSM. mean to daniel for no reason. daddy issues. resting bitch face. jaded, bitter and salty. responds to romantic things dan or char say with vulgar or mocking comments. grew up poor. can hear dead people. trying too hard to be edgy. deadpan snarker. Fuck Off I’m Not Sad Don’t Look At Me [cries only around the audience and his mom]

walt: becoming older than 10 was when things went downhill for him

shannon: seems vapid but is more than that. deeply insecure. feels she can’t do anything right. constantly put down as worthless by other people. yeah she’s sad but she Looks Great. wants sayid to pound her (mood)

(gee, that was dark)

richard: very old and ageless. sees ben as a son figure. really not holding it together. seems smart but he has no fucking idea whats going on. cult mindset. quips curtly back at miles’ vulgar jokes. in love with miles based on very little interaction. misses his dead wife. has a cute giggle. is also hot. overwhelmed and just wants to go into the jungle and scream

frank: doesn’t understand what anybody is talking about. the only normal person here. doesn’t understand these kids today with their weird kinks. just wants to sleep. pilot. bit of a conspiracy theorist

boone: bi. stupid. soaked in blood a lot.  (L I T E R A L L Y all of my boone jokes are about him being dumb and bi and horribly injured and combos of those. i haven’t even made any incest jokes! what the actual fuck)

ana lucia: “[with tears in her eyes] DO U WANNA FIGHT??”. highly volatile. lesbian. bros with jack but will roast him. angery, sad and underloved

daniel: bi, agender, neurodivergent, just, just especially brain weird. The Scientist trope but kind of a shitty scientist. smart. in love with charlotte. in love with desmond. likes rats a lot. talks weird and soft spoken. withdrawn and polite but with bursts of bitterness. his mom won’t let him live the live he wants to live. time travel weirdness. loves music. gifted kid burn out. has a mental and emotional collapse. thinks a hydrogen bomb will solve all his problems. skinny. touches people a lot. he’s not okay. romantic. overwhelmed. memory problems. his lack of life experience and softness is used to contrast miles. takes some statements literally. pretty vanilla (for now) and doesn’t know what certain kinks are. likes that charlotte is Tough & Rowdy. doesn’t swear much. bad hair. was unhinged in college. has radiation poisoning

libby: neurodivergent and in love with hurley

eko: yeah... i’ve legit only used him for jokes where charlie says something EXTREMELY vulgar and eko says “go to church”

charlotte: bi, loud, passionate, beautiful, angery, knows All The Languages, huge nerd, loves daniel and thinks he’s a Snack, outspoken feminist, archaeologist/anthropologist and wants to explore some fucking ruins, The Lost Lenore trope, loves chocolate, exasperated, great smile, subtly insecure, doesn’t get that she could just tell daniel how she feels, has had many indiana jones like adventures (off screen, of course), for example: crashing her dirtbike into all 7 wonders of the world

danielle: french and unhinged, has seen some shit

alex: just a young lady with no chill

jacob: suffers from terminal apathy. has little understand of human behaviour. doesn’t care about people. he just plain sucks. has no endearing qualities. causes many problems. beats the shit outta richard. doesn’t like technology. so removed from humanity that he’s a touch uncanny valley

christian, eloise, charles and anthony jokes each have their own kind of flavours but fuck it, i’ll sum them all up as: contemptuous cunts who deserve to die

aaron: just a baby boy. does baby things. has like 5 parents

vincent: a dog. a good boy. does he know more than he lets on? is he mysterious? no, he is just a dog

#and as you can see this is 98% accurate #this is mostly just a summary of these people pfffttt #interjected with memes and orientation headcanons #i haven't made many jokes about sayid or sun or jin or michael #i haven't found them very dunkable #it's not like im avoiding them either #i just work with whatever joke sparks with me #anyways holy SHIT i make so many different kinds of jokes about charlie #you can tell the ones i favour making jokes about from this huh

[nighthunternik]

Police Academy (Part 2)

A Parker Shaw fanfiction (NSFW)

Book: It lives beneath

Characters: Parker x Reader

Rating: NSFW, 18+

Word count: ~ 2300 (approx. 10-15 min. of reading time)

Warning: MLM, Smut, Adults only

All Characters belong to Pixelberry.

~*~ 

Okay: I don't know if it's just my phone but I did insert a Read more break - I don't know why it apparently didn't work but please don't hate on me for having to scroll😱😨 I am terribly sorry.

Hey guys! I am over the moon to finally present the 2nd part of my Parker Shaw MLM fic "Police Academy". 🤗 I know it has taken me aaaages to finish it😂🙈, but I had some very important exams coming up. So I was basically studying most of my time and was happy to even being able to read the newest Choices chapters and post an occasional meme on my blog😂

In the meantime, @teenagediplomatfestivalauthor wrote a fan version of the 2nd part. It's such a great piece and I feel really honored that they made the effort - plus, while my part is NSFW, theirs goes in a different direction, so go check it out on their blog! 🔥

Now, without further ado, enjoy❤

PS: As usual, I am thrilled to fulfill your requests and tag you in my fics!

~*~

"Or maybe it isn't a girl you're dreaming about?"

He knows!, you think and instantly feel the blood colouring your cheeks in a suspicious pink. You are unsure how long you lie there, staring at him, your erection painfully held captive by the tightness of your underwear, an uncomfortable buzzing in the ear that sounds like a choir of taunting voices, unable to form a coherent sentence that would explain this situation. But when it hits you, the ponderosity of the revelation you've feared for so long, you close your eyes and turn your back on Parker, hoping that this is merely a bad dream. It is impossible to look him in the eye, in which you fear to see nothing but disgust, because you are afraid to lose the feeble rest of your dignity.

The minutes pass slowly, feeling like years filled with humiliation and regret, and a leady silence contaminates the atmosphere in your room. Not a single word is said, neither by you or Parker, whose presence you can still feel at the end of your bed and who is probably still too paralyzed with shock to move.

But suddenly, your feel the weight of his knee on your mattress. "Hey... listen...". You feel his hand on your shoulder and this gesture of loyal friendship almost makes you tear up. However, being comforted by Parker right now à la C'mon, there's nothing to be ashamed about isn't exactly your dream scenario, so you just shake your head, signaling him to go away. Or at least back to sleep.

But, of course, Parker has never been one to get rid of easily, that's one of your friend's (or should you say former friend's?) best qualities. He whispers your name, his voice husky and hesitant. It's the voice that makes you turn around, because it sounds so intimate and calming - and when you do, you are surprised to catch a glimpse of nervousness or even fear in Parker's eyes as well. But fear of what?

"Listen, it's nothing... you don't have to think that... I mean -" , Parker babbles something so indistinct that you can't understand a single word of what he is saying. And he seems to notice, because he ends his cumbersome stuttering with a single well placed "Fuck it", and then suddenly stretches out his hand. Although you know your fellow trainee and know that he couldn't hurt a fly, you flinch, for a brief second expecting him to be somewhat possessed by the ghost of the other guys and wanting to slap you. What you didn't expect is for him to place his hand on your cheek.

You turn into the literal pillar of salt. Parker is close... too close, actually. There is this unwritten law that two males should not be this close to each other to not be labelled as faggots. That's exactly the reason why the physical contact between the future police officers at the academy is reduced to a friendly pat on the back or, at most, a chummy embrace after winning a football match that comes along with knuckles knocked on the head and tousled hair and is terminated after precisely 3.5 seconds.

But they don't caress each others cheeks! Especially not a night!! In bed!!!

But Parker doesn't seem to mind - and of course, noone would've dared calling him a faggot. As much as you'd like to say something that would release the tension between you two, your voice crackles like a non-functioning loudspeaker, leaving you no other option than to get lost in the hazel eyes locked with yours.

Parker's face comes even closer and at the sight of his lips hovering in front of you, you can't help but to involuntarily lick your own. It's so awkward and cringy, you feel the familiar hotness creeping up your neck. But your friend doesn't back off, in fact, he leans forward and you're dizzy, intoxicated by the heat radiating from his body and his tangy, dry odour. Then it happens - and you are unsure whether or not you are actually dreaming.

Because Parker Shaw is kissing you. No, he isn't simply kissing you - he impatiently demands entrance with his tongue in a way you'd have never expected from the former boy scout that sometimes acts so awkward around other people. "Pa- Parker, wait ... what?", you pant, but your brown-haired friend cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. "Not 'what'! More 'yes, keep going'".

And then your lips crash together again in a fiery storm of passion, the sensation of the stubble around his lips and the low rumble that escapes his throat sending shivers down your spine. His calloused hands pull you off the bed, because you are unable to move, and a second later you find your limbs pinned to the wall, Parker's trembling body pressed against yours. Although you can't come up with much experience when it comes to kissing women, you instantly know that this is what you craved for... it's rough, animalistic and much better.

Your heart nearly explodes in your chest, but then Parker breaks away for a second, giving you a playful wink and biting your lips encouragingly in a way that can only mean one thing: it's your turn, don't be shy.

So you do as you're told and start exploring his body, with a lump in your throat and shaking hands admittedly, but still reassured by the way his breath speeds up or the gentle sounds of approval when you touch him in the right spots. And oh my, does it feel good! From the way his back muscles contract to the extraordinarily well-trained chest that you've admired so often before, there is no part of his body that doesn't make you want to scream with desire and the sheer disbelief that it's you out of all people that has Parker Shaw's forehead rested against yours, his body writhing almost submissively under the palm of your hands. Soon, you are kissing each other again, desperate, like his lips are to only thing saving you from drowning. But the movement in his boxer shorts discloses that his plans for tonight involve more than just kissing.

After what feels like an eternity of you two making out, Parker tugs at the waistband of your pajama bottoms and this is enough to jolt you out of the comfortable feeling of his kisses and bring the absurdity of what you're doing home to you. Only ten minutes ago, you dwelled on your weltschmerz, darting longing glances at him sleeping across the room and now your object of desire is about to - what, touch your penis? It's insane and although you'd love nothing more than to examine his remarkable erection pressed against your stomach from up close, a despicable and faint voice in your head makes you wonder, if this doesn't go too fast, if Parker won't regret this tomorrow morning.

You grap his wrist, a sudden movement to which he replies by arching his brows. "Parker -", you begin and you can already feel how stupid and inadequate everything you are going to say will inevitably sound, " - what is all this? I mean, what... what are you doing?". He chuckles  and it's as surprising as it's irresistible. "As if you don't know", he replies while again starting to playfully tear at your shorts, his lips merely inches away from yours, his breath hot and heavy, clouding your mind. "I am doing what we both want. Or do you want to talk about it first?" He is making fun of you. It's not condescending, you know exactly how he means it and it's the mischief in his voice, accompanied by the oh so familiar glance in his eyes, which lets you know that he didn't get miraculously drunk or high while sleeping, but that he is actually serious. "What are the odds of you changing your mind?" - "Non-existent. Any more questions?" His eyes pierce into yours and you shake your head. "Great. Then let's fuck."

And you, who has never used said word before, let alone did actually fuck, feel yourself nod and something escape your mouth that sounds embarassingly like "Oh yes, Parker!". It doesn't even bother you. Fucking him is different than how you imagined it to be. But, to be fair, not even your wildest dreams could've prepared you for those strong arms lifting you atop his desk that he cleared with a dapper wave of the hand, the jocular but appreciative whistle as he finally pulls down your pants and underwear and sees your dick for the first time (it makes you laugh and blush at the same time, just as he intended it to) - or the naturalness with which he kneels down and takes your penis into his mouth. Into. His. Mouth.

Colourful fireworks explode right in front of you; your loud moan is only muffled by his big hands that he brought to your mouth in foresight, because the last thing both of you need right now is for anyone in the adjacent rooms to wake up. The wet thightness of Parker's mouth alone and the skillfull way his tongue swirls around your glans would've been enough for you to come, but you try to hold back, not wanting to climax too early, because - as preposterous as this might sound - you don't want to disappoint him. However, the way he all of a sudden uses his free hand to spread your legs even further and hungrily massage your balls is too much: you feel the tension build in your stomach, your toes convulse and, with a last squeak, you seize him by the neck and press his face onto your twitching member as you release sticky squirts of semen.  

Your whole world is turned upside down, everything you believed in is shaken to its foundation after this mind-blowing orgasm, even more so as Parker willingly swallows every single drop of your cum, not breaking eye contact for one second. Is this really happening? He then stands up to kiss you and you can taste yourself on his tongue, not knowing if you should be repelled or turned on by this unusual senstation.

"I am - ?", you begin your apology for this early end to your ... 'adventure', while he plants a number of fevered kisses on your nipples that make you toss your head back. "Sshh", Parker interrupts you by putting a finger on your lips. "That was amazing!" You feel the familiar redness on your cheeks. "Well, judging from your... ehm, talent, I wouldn't have guessed that this was your first time with ... you know, a guy." At that comment, he winks at you sheepishly. "Who said it was my first time? But -", he continues and kisses the tip of your nose, " - you're the first one I imagined doing this to beforehand. Now c'mon, we're not done here, are we?"

Before you can even assimilate this information, he has gotten rid of his boxers, his penis slapping against his chiseled stomach for a second, and you don't know what to say - but you reckon' words are the last thing needed in this situation. So you content yourself with casting covetous eyes on his very long and very hard member, which is - of course, how could it be differently? - as impressive as the rest of his perfect body.

"Like what you see?" Although Parker's voice is rough, showing just the right amount of cocky self-confidence and his natural awarness of what he can offer his lover, both of you are unable to stifle a laugh at this clishéd question. He doesn't need or wait for an answer; instead he holds out a hand and leads you back to your bed, where you both lie down, soaked and sticky with sweat ... and he places on of your hands on his cock. "Do me!"

His words are so commanding, so powerful and hot that your shaking hand immediately start to stroke his dick, tentatively at first but then with increasing speed. "Yes, that's it", Parker murmurs into the pillows and you think to yourself that this is probably the sexiest thing you've ever heard.

It quickly becomes apparent how experienced he really is while you try to satisfy him in a boisterous and somewhat clumsy way ... he sets the rythm, corrects and emboldens you with soft sounds of pleasure, and when he finally comes almost silently into your hand, you can't believe that you're the one responsible for his enjoyment.

Minutes, hours or years later, both of you lie flat on your bed in a beautiful conglomerate of legs and arms, your hair sweaty and the air heavy with the smell of cum and fulfilled dreams. A thunderstorm approached, unnoticed by both of you during your actions, and the raindrops knocking at the window like finger tips make you feel even more comfortable in Parker's arms. You don't want to disturb the silence filling the room; plus, you are too busy listening to soothing sound of your friend's breath in your ear.

However, he suddenly bursts out - "This was A1, really, absoultely phenomenal!" You chuckle, although a part of you still doesn't really believe that all of this really happened. As much as you hoped at the beginning that the situation would turn out to be just a nightmare, now - if it would really turn out to be a dream -  you don't want it to end.

You look up at him and see that his hazel eyes are carefully watching you, his lips crinkled into this lopsided sneer you love so much. But you have to ask him something.

"Parker - about what you said earlier. You -... you imagined... this?" - "Of course, mate!", he laughs. " - "But what... when... how did you know that I - ?"

Parker shrugs and moves his legs so that the sticky tips of your dicks are touching each other. It's fantastic. "Well, at first I didn't. You are so out of my league that I wouldn't have thought that you'd actually ... you know... that you'd feel the same". Although he seemed to be so confident earlier, you can now hear that this confession takes a load off his heart. "Thank god us Eagle Scouts are no scaredy-cats - so I thought I'd just ask you". He beams at you and you playfully nudge him with your elbow.

"Gosh, Parker, you are such a nerd!". - "Well, however - ", he continues unwaveringly, his smile somewhat smug, "- the fact that you'd formed an impressive tent in your pants at the sight of my naked body made every question redudant." He kisses you on your forehead as you blush yet again.

"Now let's go to sleep, shall we? From now on you'll be pretty busy at night, I promise, so you'll need every minute of sleep you can get!".

Tag list: @brightpinkpeppercorn @kevinarima @teenagediplomatfestivalauthor

#playchoices #pixelberry #choices stories you play #choices fandom #parker x mc #parker shaw #it lives beneath #ilb #it lives series #choices fanfic archive #choices fanart #choices fanfiction #choices #it lives 2 #ns*w

[miraculouskpop]

MKP Series | Ladybug and Wolf

Chapter IIII: Wolf Boy Yapping 

Sehun stumbled across the room with his hands buried into his face. Or what felt like his face. Either way, he couldn't feel anything with his senses going into overdrive. A huge migraine invaded his space and amplifying every single cell inside his brain.

His senses are going insane.

Too many scents are invading his nose. Coming from different directions, different smells and it’s overwhelming him. Sehun blinked, but everywhere appeared fuzzy. It happened so suddenly- he, he's not even sure if he…- wait, did he? Sehun tripped over his own two feet and fell to the cold floor. His eardrums rattled when the dishes clanked and trinkets shuffled, and pressed a hand against his ear…- wait a second.

… W-where are his ears?!

Tufts of thick hair covered the sides of his ears, and as his fingers combed further, Sehun panicked. He couldn't feel his ears, just more hair. He’s not going crazy, is he? Oh damn, this is bad. And then, he remembered. “...A-Apollo?” He whimpered. And yet, all he can hear is the students outside the dormitory, and it sounded incredibly loud as hell. Footsteps, doors slamming, shouting, laughter, music and television playing throughout the rooms. He can hear it all. Sehun tried to stand, but the headache clamped down on his mind. Dang it! Ugh, who knew being a hero meant suffering in pain? Within that moment, Sehun regretted even acknowledging the old man. He must've been a creeper looking for young victims to seduce...

That old man had something to do with this.

"Apollo..." Sehun could hear his heart rattling against his chest, and suddenly, he blinked. Something's different. By something, Sehun meant that he's different. His midnight pajamas completely gone, replaced by what seemed like a costume. Sehun slowly, but surely stood, carefully trying to process everything. He looked down at his newly adorned grey gloves, metallic watch bound by his left wrist, white paw prints trickling from his hands to forearms. The gloves were connected to his entire suit made out of spandex, and Sehun quickly walked to the bathroom. Ignoring the headaches, Sehun desperately needed to see the truth. Or rather, the result. And honestly, Sehun didn't even need a light to witness himself in this entire getup. In the darkness, Sehun saw himself with clarity.  Eyes blazing with a passionate topaz hue, and his average black hair transformed into platinum blonde. Woah. He stood in shock, wondering if the young man in the dark gray mask was actually himself. He touched the harden mask protected around the edge of his face, observing the intricate designs of the curved mask. And then, the moment Sehun flicked on the lights- 

“Holy crap!” 

Ears. By ears, he meant seeing two animalistic, furry-ass ears perched on the top of his head. What the heck is this? Is this what Apollo meant by releasing his inner wolf? His ears twitched, and then twitched again. Dang it, why are his ears constantly twitching?! Ugh, stop it! Sehun pressed against his newly found animal ears, and felt incredibly weird feeling his hands above his head. A silver hoodie hung above him with a flowing cape flowing from behind, all attached by what seems to be a simple dog collar. Black streaks marked the sides of his waistline to his thighs, and Sehun couldn't help but to brush against the black utility belk. Entwined with the belt was a gray shawl, wrapped around his midsection and, well, supposedly the tail dangling between his legs.

"Oh my god." He whispered.

He's officially a superhero. Well, maybe not superhero, but he looks freaking awesome. "Apollo?" He called again, yet heard the tangled noises strangling his ears. 

My apologies.

A voice deep and brusque infiltrated his mind, nearly scaring the living daylights out Sehun. "Where the heck are you?" Sehun had no clue where the little furball went, and hearing voices inside his head creeped him out. 

As of current, I am apart of your conscious. 

Wait, what?!

"Why are you inside my head?" Sehun hissed. He felt incredibly embarrassed talking to himself, but he had no other choice. 

Actually, you do have choices. And I can hear majority of your thoughts, I just choose not to respond. Regardless, I am here to guide you to proper heroism and how to conduct yourself as a miraculous holder. 

Wait, so he can think to himself?

Precisely. 

Okay, this is weird. Well, whatever. So what now? I guessed I transformed into... This. Sehun still felt the headache throbbing from the back of his head as he returned to the kitchen. Everything still felt so surreal to him, turning into some wolf boy smelling different scents, mostly garbage and sweaty bodies. 

You leave the facility to experiment with your abilities. However, refrain from any unnecessary fighting. Then again, I honestly doubt you would be fighting anyone right now. 

Okay, but first he needs some medication...

Sehun walked towards the kitchen cabinet and whipped open the door. Only to find it completely empty. 

Damn.

I heard that. A hero must see the logic of the situation at all times for better improvement. Also, your headache will eventually fade as your body adjust to its amplified abilities. 

Okay, fine, whatever. Sehun snorted, walking towards the door to leave-

I wouldn't recommend that route. It's too public, and many will see you. The window will be the best exit.

... Wait.

You want him to jump out of the window?! "Are you freaking serious right now?" The least thing Sehun needs is broken bones, a ruined face, and death looming over him.

Of course! Did you honestly think I will allow yourself to be exposed? You must be stupid. 

"No way in hell I'm doing that! Apollo, you must be joking. I can't even walk two feet without a headache, and you're asking me to jump out of a window?" Don't the furball know how deep that fall is? Having the audacity to call him, Oh Sehun, a natural genius, stupid? The teenage tsked, feeling less interested in this entire idea. He might as well ditch this whole ordeal and call it quits.

Sehun, that is the first step in testing your new abilities. Risk is absolutely necessary! How can humanity prosper without curiosity and experimenting new ideas? We would still be in ancient times had it not been for risk! Well, and wars, death, devestation and other forced situations. You must place yourself in uncomfortable situations to truly understand-

Okay, he gets it. Geeze, no need for an hour long lecture. Sehun grumbled to himself, treading towards the tiny window and peered from it. Down below looked really low, and maybe a good twelve foot drop. His stomach lurched, and Sehun didn't deny the fear crawling through his skin. Should he really be doing this? After all, he might be hallucinating from diet restrictions and excessive vitamin consumption. Damn, he can feel his heart getting jittery again. Too far, too deep, and not enough reassurance. The newly transformed hero felt uncertain, eyes gazing down the possible death of the ground. "I-..." He stopped himself, afraid of speaking what he genuinely felt. Fear.

It is alright Sehun. I am here with you, and I will protect you.

Although it was a sappy statement, it was enough to push Sehun. He released a sigh, and without further notice opened the window. His heart leaped inside his chest when the fresh wind smacked his face, the midnight moon shining its light upon him. Oddly, his headache went away along with the brewing fear, and the teenager climbed over the window. His combat boots dangling from below, Sehun threatened Apollo with death if the little furry didn't rescue him.

And then, Sehun jumped.

He fell so quickly, Sehun was certain he'd die right then. The drop did horrors to the young boy, and Sehun nearly screamed.  His stomach churned and twisted, did a barrel roll and became a meme. He's going to die! But before Sehun landed to his death, something unexpected happened. Gravity shifted, the harsh wind becoming lighter and stomach softening from its cries.  It felt like soft pads beneath his feet, and without realizing it, Sehun landed carefully onto the ground with a gentle thud. 

. . . 

Still resting on his knees, Sehun stared at the ground in shock. "W-wha... What just...?" He couldn't bring himself to believe it, and everything happened so suddenly-

He fell from a window, and had survived! "Oh my god!" He's alive! And not smothered into the dirt! This... This is amazing! Apollo then told him how he needed better faith. Sehun stood tall and proud of his accomplishment, eager to explore the midnight town with his abilities. But before Sehun could dwell further on his excitement, a unique scent captured his nose by attention. No, it wasn't the intensity of the mowed grass and crisp emission of smog. The spoiling dumpster ten feet behind him and different smells of the human body all intermingled with musk, salt and grossness. At least, on this property it is...

No, it smelled incredibly... What's the word for it? Sweet. It smelled sweeter than lavender. A flowery touch to vanilla, maybe? Regardless, it really freaked Sehun out. Nowhere on this masculine, male-ridden property had feminine qualities whatsoever: no flowerbeds, no perfume, no trees, no girls, so where could this smell be coming from? Apollo inquired to follow the smell, and Sehun couldn't help but to agree. 

Run. Follow it. 

Sehun's instincts yapped at him to follow the scent. Don't allow it to fade away. He can't allow it to fade away- he must follow it! The teenager tried to control himself, but it felt incredibly difficult withholding his growing urgencies. It grew inside his gut, expanding further as Sehun stood his ground. But eventually, Sehun crumbled to his instincts and ran.

Running. Faster than Oh Sehun could ever imagine. Faster than a human being, wind fighting against his entire body as he sped through the fields into the neighborhoods. His abdomen clenching and body unaccustomed to this unusual experience. An adrenaline rush coursing through his veins as his feet pushed past normal speeds. No human being can run twenty five miles per minute, and when Sehun jumped he found himself soaring high above the post lamps. 

This feels amazing.

The inner child locked away was freed. Freedom! The chains completely broken, and for the first time in Oh Sehun's boring life, he laughed.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculous kpop #miraculous ladybug tales of ladybug and chat nior #au #kpop #exo #f(x) #fanfiction #fiction #fanart #bts #blackpink #twice #chapter four

[hellyeahrpmemes]

※ JENNA MARBLES SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. XI ※

here’s sentences from jenna’s 10 most recent videos! feel free to change names/pronouns/zodiac signs/etc.! more jenna sentences

I COOK MY BOYFRIEND’S FAVORITE MEAL

“Is this a leisure suit?”

“This is my own, customized, personal leisure suit.”

“I’m pretty sure that you got that out of my closet.”

“I bought it today with your credit card.”

“She drank wine, demanded greatness, and I delivered.”

“I guess it’s only fair - you did all that cooking for me, now I’ll do it for you.”

“I’m looking forward to the fact that you’re not going to be in the kitchen.”

“I should’ve never made this video.”

“Thank you, this is actually helpful.”

“Get your beer off the cutting board.”

“This recipe really requires a lot of knife skills that I don’t have.”

“How many times have things caught on fire?”

“I like this encouragement.”

“Seven fucking hours later, I’m still cutting these carrots.”

“I didn’t do that with you… I mean, I did, a little bit.”

“You’re not banned from the kitchen, with no arms.”

“I mean, I’m not the most gifted chopper, but this is nice and even.”

“This isn’t really looking that right.”

“This is not dough whatsoever. This is just a bowl of flour.”

“People make dumplings for fun?”

“Don’t worry, all you have to do is individually, carefully craft them by hand.”

“You asked me what I wanted, and I told you.”

“I’m hungry. I want to spend the next seven hours making my food.”

“I feel like this is the kind of dish that would break me. Like, I’m gonna cry.”

“It’s crazy how quickly I can eat one of these.”

“You told me this was gonna work.”

“This doesn’t look good at all.”

“If this doesn’t work, I’m gonna cry, and we’re just gonna starve.”

“It’s so thicc with two Cs.”

“Wait, so you can do this without being fancy, because, do I look like a fancy person to you?”

“I don’t like dumplings anymore, I just decided I’m allergic to dumplings.”

“I wanna move on with my life… I wanna get excited about my life.”

“Don’t cry and sing Dr. Phil.”

“Whoever invented dumplings is a sick, bored fuck.”

“These better be the best dumplings you’ve ever had, because, let me tell you something, it’s not worth it.”

“What year is it…!?”

“Somebody’s gonna die today.”

“That was the best part of my day, right there.”

“This is a terrifying food.”

“This is a violent dish.”

“I feel like they’re too hot to eat… only one way to test it.”

“This was worth all the stress and fury you went through.”

“How did you eat that, that’s so hot…!?”

“Why are all your recipes dangerous? Does it make your food taste better if it’s kind of dangerous?”

“It’s getting everywhere, I don’t like this.”

“I swear to god, I don’t want to go to the hospital tonight.”

“I know you had to be patient today, which you’re not used to being.”

“There’s nothing comforting about cooking these. It’s just violent, and tense, and stressful.”

CUTTING AND COLORING MY OWN HAIR 2

“He should’ve learned his lesson the first time he left me.”

“I’m really having a great time only doing my own hair.”

“A semi-permanent isn’t really a commitment.”

“It’s like a low-commitment tattoo.”

“If this is truly semi-permanent, I can do this shit whenever I want.”

“Guess who doesn’t give a fuck about her hair? Me, bitch.”

“Does this part feel like Doritos? Yeah, it does, but it’s all part of the journey.”

“I have great technique, I’m a born natural, bitch.”

“Instead of wearing a dumpy shirt that I don’t care about, I’ll wear my favorite shirt so that it forces me to be careful.”

“We’re making a semi-commitment right now.”

“Fuck it, let’s go to the Dark Side.”

“Oh, I’m making it worse.”

“Listen to that, doesn’t it sound like hair care at it’s finest?”

“All you people that joke about not going outside enough and not getting enough sun, try me, bitch.”

“Oh, how did this happen?”

“Why do we even bother wearing gloves?”

“I’m excited to see just how semi-permanent this is.”

“I am second guessing my methods.”

“Give me your honest opinion. What do you think?”

“I didn’t just want this color on my hair. I wanted it all over my face, body, and neck.”

“This is kind of fucking rad.”

“I dyed my hair by myself, at home, alone.”

“It’s dark, it’s fun, I look like a superhero.”

“Don’t even bother with all this parting shit, just get in there and do it.”

“Should I just go full bang? Should I do it?”

“I’m trying to do the most efficient thing.”

“I look like my mom in, like, 1960.”

“I’m trying to get to the point in life where, someday, when my kids see pictures and videos of me, they’re like, who the fuck is that?”

“This might be one of my favorite looks.”

“Boy, who the fuck do you think did it?”

“Why do I feel like that’s not true?”

“You look so fucking cute.”

“It says semi-permanent, I feel like it’s low-commitment.”

“I’m such a big fan of it.”

“Yeah, just give me a score out of ten, be as brutal as you want.”

“We’re gonna do some research, we’ll be back.”

TAKING MY DOG TO MEET SANTA

“That’s a great way of getting kicked right out of the mall and being asked to never come back.”

“I’m really hoping that they let us do this.”

“I don’t think that they allow dogs in this mall.”

“It says no dogs here, but then you see, like, seventy people with their dogs.”

“That was so easy and painless.”

“Never use the words ‘cuck’ and ‘Santa’ in the same sentence ever again.”

“That was so adorable.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to bug you guys.”

“Make sure you’re very kind and supportive of him.”

“I like magic and believing too.”

“The best part of snow globes is when Christmas is over you smash them on the ground.”

“Oh, fuck, here we go again.”

“The entire highway’s basically shut down.”

“The air quality is terrible - it sucks to go outside.”

“I spent $80 on this picture.”

RECREATING THE HAMSTER PICTURE

“You know what you’re signing up for, okay?”

“It’s not dumb, it needs to happen.”

“We are going to go rent a red convertible.”

“No, we’re not going to Tuscon.”

“Don’t tell anybody, but we’re faking this whole thing.”

“Alright, we’re fucked already.”

“No one has a fucking red convertible.”

“It’s weird, it’s like it’s not 1995 anymore.”

“You literally took like 100 pictures.”

“This is really stupid, but if we don’t do it, who’s gonna do it?”

“We tried and failed to rent a red convertible.”

“A sincere thank you for wasting your day.”

“We just wanted to make a meme.”

GIVING MYSELF TAPE IN HAIR EXTENSIONS

“I’ve used them, like, five times, tops.”

“It felt wrong, it looked wrong.”

“I feel like I’m missing out on the fun.”

“That sounds like the level of commitment I would like to make.”

“I want to ring in the new year looking like a snack.”

“I watched one tutorial on how to do it.”

“Should I really just go full-blown ‘I’m lost at the supermarket, can you please help me’?”

“We’re already off to a really mediocre start.”

“I hope that you brought a snack and have nothing to do today.”

“There’s no rules, right?”

“I legitimately don’t know how to part my hair.”

“Oh my god, what have I done?”

“Why are you laughing? Is it my scrunchie?”

“This is quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“If I was an alien, and I came to this planet, I feel like one of the things that I’d find absolutely hysterical is that we like to wear each other’s hair.”

“I’m in the middle of the hardest part, you’re such a fucking asshole.”

“Is that something I should’ve figured out beforehand?”

“We only have like seventy more.”

“Overall, it’s been kind of a nice experience.”

“It was hard. I tried my best. It was my first time.”

SHAVING MY FACE

“I’ve never done this before. Obviously.”

“I know my appearance is jarring.”

“It takes a lot of work to look this great.”

“You’re quite literally mixing up two of the most prominent X-Men right now.”

“Gambit throws playing cards. That’s it. That’s the end of Gambit.”

“I’m trying to shave my face, not get in an argument about Gambit.”

“He’s just a weird magician that was looking for a group of friends.”

“Do you wanna feel my face?”

“Wanna come over and watch me shave my face?”

“Your skin looks really good, it’s glowing.”

“Now I can do some violent shit to my face.”

“It said don’t shave your eyes, otherwise I would.”

“We’re getting ready, are you getting ready with me or not?”

“I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup, but I put it on.”

“I feel like the payoff is amazing.”

“Why have you been hiding this secret from me?”

“I know this isn’t super duper exciting, but, for me, this is so exciting.”

MY DOGS MEET A CAT

“I ask Julien for a cat just about every day, and the answer is always no.”

“Our landlord won’t let us have any more animals.”

“No, what? That’s not part of this?”

“What this really is is just for you to get comfortable with a cat, and then like it, and then get me a cat.”

“That’s what today’s about.”

“I’m ready, I know you’re ready.”

“That’s the whole day today.”

“Stop making that face.”

“We’re not getting a cat, like, ever. No.”

“Getting a cat will help you be less of an Aries.”

“Sit wherever you wanna sit, do whatever you want.”

“That was a weird thing that you just did.”

“So… do you want to get one tomorrow, or… the day after?”

“I’m right here, and I have not agreed to anything.”

“Don’t pretend like you can’t hear me.”

“Who said that? Benjamin Franklin or Jesus?”

“I don’t know what’s going on.”

GIVING MYSELF A 90′S HAIR WRAP

“I’m shaving every time from here on out.”

“It’s basically a friendship bracelet on your hair.”

“You are much bolder than me, and do your thing.”

“Get you a man that pumps you up.”

“What camps did you go to when you were a kid?”

“Rules are made to be broken, sister.”

“Where are you going? Why are you leaving?”

“Are you calling me a preteen right now?”

“Oh, this is hard to do on yourself.”

“When you take a shower, this thing stays wet for fucking days.”

“On a scale of one to snack, how are you feeling?”

“We didn’t have lettermen jackets in seventh grade.”

“My first kiss was in seventh grade.”

“Do you know how hard it is to play clarinet with braces?”

“What the fuck is the big deal? This sucked. I hated it.”

“Oh, damn, you’ve been dating older girls for a while.”

“This takes me back so hard, wow.”

“No one please remind me that I fucked this up or else I’ll be very upset.”

“I feel like this a thing that twelve-year-olds and grandmas would be like, hell yeah.”

“That’s like buying a coloring book colored.”

“I have yet to do something that I really didn’t enjoy.”

“I worked hard on this for six minutes.”

“We’re not friends anymore.”

“In case you thought I was done here, though, you’d be incorrect.”

“She was my favorite singer in the 90’s, and then I graduated to Sarah McLaughlin.”

“First of all, this is a deadly fucking weapon.”

“Ow, don’t pull it, oh my god, don’t pull on it.”

MAKING TERRIBLE HOT GLUE CRAFTS

“I got, like, physically angry. I got hot in the face, and was kind of mad.”

“The things that people will do with a hot glue gun and call it a hack is just… beyond.”

“I cannot justify spending my time that way.”

“If anyone’s actually going to sit down and do these crafts, it’s going to be me.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some time to kill and some glue to waste.”

“Do you see my hands shaking already? Like, I’m tired. This is exhausting.”

“I’m a little confused as to why you’re spending this kind of money to glue yourself a pair of shoes that have holes in the bottoms.”

“I’m just gonna do it on my table because I’ve stopped giving a fuck.”

“I have strong, meaty arms which sometimes look fat in shirts.”

“I’m not trying to stifle anyone’s creativity, but this is a fucking waste of time.”

“I think this is a very loose definition of ‘shoes’.”

“I’m just sort of waiting for it to be over.”

“I’m just settling for blobby blob mess at this point, because I just don’t care.”

“This design is flawed.”

“They’re not structurally sound anywhere.”

“After a couple of seconds, it physically starts to hurt.”

“They’re not shoes at all, this is not okay.”

“This doesn’t feel good, and they don’t work.”

“I will never get this part of my life back.”

“No, you can’t do this, it’s not okay.”

“This is not a solution to any problem, this is a mess.”

“I don’t care about the rest of this paper, I’m not going to use it for anything.”

“I love my money. I love just taking it and dumping it in the toilet.”

“You could maybe wear this for fifteen minutes before it inevitably broke.”

“Just because you can make it, doesn’t mean you should.”

“This does not work, this does not work, this doesn’t work, okay, it’s working.”

“I’m trying my best, I’m not trying to fuck this up.”

“Does it look good? Does it look like tears and sadness?”

“I’m mad at myself. I can’t believe I’ve done this.”

“I really can’t handle another time like this. This is a dark time.”

“I did it, and I’m here to tell you it’s not worth it.”

“I feel sad on the inside, I don’t like it.”

“These are not life hacks. Do I look like someone whose life is better after doing this?”

“They don’t work and it pisses me off. This is a lie.”

“This is what happens when you leave. You can’t leave. You have to stay.”

“Does it look better like this? No — that’s worse. That’s worse, I’m sorry.”

MAKING OUR FAVORITE SOUP

“I’m just having one of those days when I just want to curl up under a blanket.”

“I’m sick.”

“I’m having a day where I’m not a person.”

“I’m so sorry, man, it’s just not in the cards for today.”

“I know you have days like this, too.”

“It doesn’t matter when you’re having a day like this.”

“I’m the best chef.”

“Just to be clear, you don’t want to go to the ER?”

“What’s going on with your pants?”

“I’m gonna go ahead and burn myself.”

“Maybe, instead of going out for a date right now, we can, when we sit down and have dinner, we can light a candle and hold hands the whole time we eat.”

“I’m large.”

“I’m gonna eat once now and once in two hours and it’s gonna be gone.”

“Do you think we have a tablespoon? Because I’m not going to the store.”

“Don’t listen to him, that is not true.”

“It’s really good, I burnt my tongue a little bit.”

“First of all, it’s amazing, second of all, it’s amazing, third of all… what?”

“Literally walking through the middle of TSA - that’s a bad time to have soup.”

#rp memes #rp sentence starters #roleplay meme #rp sentence prompts #sentence starters #mine

[badlydrawnmodernlavi]

Happy, sex, romantic and family headcanon for your muse? (I love your Lavi :3)

Headcanon meme~

Put a symbol (or several) and a character/characters in my ask box, and I’ll give you a headcanon.  Yes.  Do it.

☆ - Happy headcanon 

Rilakkuma makes him really… really happy. Whenever he’s down, he’d cuddle it until he feels better maybe cry a little bit cause he’s lonely at times. He has like a collection of Rilakkuma stuffed toys in his room that nobody knows about. Lavi would try to hide it from everyone because it’s really embarrassing and he’s really insecure about sharing these kinds of things with his friends. Whenever someone comes over for group studies or to hang out, he has to shove them all into his closet and make sure no one finds out about it.

It’d also be an Easter egg hunt for the other three; Kanda would probably figure it out when he sees Lavi with a Rilakkuma background on his phone. Albeit questioning this man-child, Kanda doesn’t mind nor does his care. So Lavi relieved, but he’s embarrassed all the same.

Allen would stumble upon one of the stuffed toys hidden under Lavi’s bed because he’d rushed to hide it at the last minute. Lavi made Allen vow not to bring it up again but now Allen knows what to get him for the holidays and his birthday. And let me just say, despite being constantly broke, Allen gets really good gifts at the best prices and quality. 

Lena would probably see him buying him one of the special editions while going to the mall with her girlfriends. She’d bring it up during class together and Lavi would try to avoid or lie about it. Having none of that shit, Lena with her special abilities would make him talk and admit it. He does and they both promise to keep it a secret among the group. She’d probably try to get him a shit ton of Rilakkuma merch after the discovery though.

✿ - Sex headcanon 

He’d have a few mutual one nightstands here or there. Depending on his mood, he would switch between taking and giving. Occasionally, he’d go rough in bed but wouldn’t go further than that. He’s always looking to pleasing both parties, give a good impression, I guess?

if it’s his significant other, however, dirty talk, scratching, biting, oral, and a lot of teasing would ensue. When he knows they’re both comfortable with each other, he’ll allow blindfolds and handcuffs, maybe toys if he’s really into it. If he’s feeling low or needs to forget something, he’d prefer being sensual and romantic. And no matter what, there will always be cuddles after session(s).

♡ - Romantic headcanon

Our boy here is really really gay. (Personally, I would have made him crush on pretty boi Tyki cause I’m a closet Lucky shipper, but I’ll just leave it to the imagination.)

If it’s someone he really likes, Lavi would be pretty coy around the person, putting their happiness above his own. He tries really hard to impress the person he like and is really attentive towards his significant other. He’s the kind of person that keep count of days he’s been in a relationship with that person and he’s always on time when throwing anniversary dinner. Did I mention that he cooks really well?

Sometimes, he doubt his own abilities in maintaining the relationship. Reassuring him in those times helps a lot and he’ll grow to respect his significant other a lot more because both sides are equally important and prioritize that most.

Other times, he can’t be as emotionally invested so takes a few days away from social contact to recover and think everything over. Then he’ll consult with the other party on what whichever steps to take from there. if the relationship isn’t working out, then he’ll try to break it up as painless as possible, making sure both sides had their closure before setting off on his own again.

♥ - Family headcanon

Bookman is probably his only parental figure. I also like like the idea of Lavi having Deak his father and not his previous alias. ( the concept was supplied by my beloved friend @yuu-14th-moyashi ) Maybe I’ll incorporate it later at some point.

Allen is like a little brother to him; partners in crime and the best of friends. They’re each other’s wingman, giving each other a push forward in situations that needs a bit of peer pressure encouragement to pull through. Allen’s also willing to pull up a sleeve if Lavi’s having trouble in fights, both are very coordinated with each other and make a great team.

While akin to a little sister, Lenalee plays that role best. She’s best at love advice and they help each other in times like romantic rendezvous. She’s also the mother figure of the group and she looks out for everyone when they’re attempting something stupid. She’s also a great shield against Komui… that’s unless Lavi did something he deserve, then she’ll leave him to rot. But all in all, they all share platonic love for each other

Kanda is a childhood best friend. And while Kanda refuses to admit such level of relationship with Lavi, he’s great to have around as company. The guy makes it easy to be open about things. He’s also really fun to piss off, but that’s only when he doesn’t have mugen with him. 

#ooc #Anonymous #HEADCANNON #i had a lot to say about this #if there is more that is missing #i might have to add them later on the blog itself #i feel that it is inadequate for his portrayal. #suggestions anyone?

[this-brownie]

04.22.20

I have been harboring a lot of pain and anger feelings for jen in the back of my head for the last 10 years. When I see her in person, I feel so good that I don’t have a need to bring it up, but those negative feelings, eventually, always return. I finally decided to let it all go and explain to her how I felt— the first part is the letter I read to her over the phone and the second part are my own thoughts and recollection after the phone call.

Part 1:

Maybe you have your issues with me because of that period in high school but it was never to push YOU away. I won’t diminish the fact it was detrimental to you regardless, but I didn’t intentionally prioritize myself at your cost. That happened to be the result of my stupidity and lack of communication. When you left for college, it was hard but you kind of repeatedly put yourself over me and our friendship, and it took a toll. We came back together once you found more balance in your school life and started depending on me more when you and worth broke up. I eventually moved back to New York and you had your off year; that was one of my favorite years. I like you because I have fun with you and because I like to hear you talk. I have often been angry when you couldn’t make it for me, even if it wasn’t your fault, and it constantly remained in the back of my head. But then when I see you it’s like those feelings wash away, and I’m like oh thisss is why I love hanging out with her. When you left, it made me really distant, which was better than fighting with you, but it hollowed me out. You had Mo, you had your life, you were busy. I wasn’t unhappy for you but you didn’t need me or make me feel needed. When I eventually moved on from Caitlin to Ivan, he brought on this intense joy and intimacy that I hadn’t experienced since hs. He made me feel so loved, and so crazy. It consumed me. With Levi, my other friends, and often you I feel grounded. Good positive feelings, nothing crazy. He fucking riled me up so much. Eventually it overwhelmed me but it felt amazing while it lasted. And I remember being so angry with you because why couldn’t you just let me be happy? You were hurt that I left you and it frustrated me that I should consider your feelings once again over mine. Talking to you normally made me feel empty. You were so fucking busy, and I was so busy that i didn’t feel connected when we spoke. But with Ivan, I always felt so good. I always craved that. Why couldn’t you let me have that? Because it came at your expense?

We call each other best friends and the reason I say I don’t need you there for me everyday is because you haven’t always been there for me. The person I talk to everyday now is Levi, and maybe that’s why in your own way you can’t fully trust me. I understand that- the feeling of giving your all to someone who won’t give it back. I wouldn’t want to ask you to irrationally be there for me but there are ways to make me special, which I feel I’ve done for you such as birthdays. My last birthday was one of my favorites because you actually made it. I was hesitant in telling you to even come because I didn’t want to let myself hope. I would rather sabotage myself than be let down.

The things that I perceive important are different than what you want/or are used to giving. Literally the first time ever I got hurt by you was when i walked you home after SPI and wanted to come over to your house but you said no. Obviously I understood the reason, but at that time I was SO taken aback because I had never experienced that. I thought we were friends because we had been eating together and hanging out all the time that I didn’t understand why wouldn’t just tell your parents you wanted a friend over even if you were scared.

There’s been times in the past when you made me feel like utter shit. I’ve gone to bat with my mom in the past about you. I remember in college you told me that you couldn’t tell your mom about me because I wasn’t in school and “what’s there to really say”. you were afraid to stand up to your parents even tho I’m your best friend. I under at and it’s your personality and your life but it was painful. There was a point that, I don’t even think you were angry, but you said something like I was bad influence on you. And you said it off handed, not accusatory— you said that at the end of the day, it was still your actions— but that was hurtful. The reason I get pissed and jealous is because sometimes it feels like you do stuff for others that you don’t do for me. Like when Sarah came over to your place. Or that time we went to Brooklyn shuffle with mo and Naomi and you posted a picture of just you and her. I mentioned it and you called me Nadiya which aggravated tf out of me and effectively made me want to shut up. I know it was mostly irrational and not a big deal, but I was annoyed that I planned the meetup Cuz of my bday but you honored her. It was tiny, but still hurt me and made me feel little. (Yes I know you posted a pic of us for my actually birthday but that’s not the point).

The bachelorette thing annoyed me a lot how it happened, at the time, but when I look back it was actually almost perfect. Nadiya was the one who fucked everything up. And also me, for picking a shitty restaurant. But what annoyed me after was that you didn’t talk to Nadiya. You explained that because you don’t care for her as a friend anymore, and didn’t want to bring it up but I felt like I wasn’t prioritized in that situation. Like I was full of anger and just had to let it go without any resolve.

I rmmbr a few months ago Levi was away for work and I was feeling extremely low, and I asked you something like ‘what do you do for me’ and you responded by saying that it was shitty of me to keep count. I was feeling hormonal from the implant but it makes me feel lonely when i think you can depend on me but I can’t depend on you. I don’t ask a lot of you, or at least I try my best to not bother you too much, which is why it feels good when you do things for me on your own. When you show me that you’ve thought of me. There was this meme I saw that said “affection hit different when you don’t gotta ask for it” that’s how I feel, maybe that’s just me being spoiled idk

The thing is I’m oblivious which is why I like it when you tell me “this is what I did for you” bc it keeps me in check. If I’m constantly reminded you love me, then I don’t have to doubt it or be stuck in my own head. I know you show your love in less obviating ways but they mean so much. When you’re patient with me, I appreciate that a lot. I don’t like when you spend money on me. I love quality time. I love when you make me feel important. I often don’t feel like that which is why I bitch at you lol. It might all be in my head, but how can I be sure? I’m the only one thinking about it 🤔

I am bringing up all the things not because they necessarily bother me anymore but I want to stop holding on to all of it. Feel free to yell at me about the shit I’ve done to you too, I know there’s been a lot. But I do love you, even if we just love each other differently. Even if you don’t post as many pics of me on your IG as I’d like, and I don’t like the pics you do post of me🤦🏽‍♀️ I cant help compare myself to your other friends. Why do they get better captions than me🙄 why do you cook for them and not me. Why do I always compare myself to them and feel like I’m on the losing end. I know this side of me is crazy which is why I like to keep it hidden. I know that you actually do love me (I think). But I feel I’m constantly thinking about how I personally can make you feel good. How to be reliable. How to be there for you. Like that weekend when you were upset about Aaron not responding and him possibly canceling the date. I knew you were in a shit mood so i wanted to do everything in my power to make you feel happy and wanted. To stock the house, and cool for you, and spend money on you, and call your friend and surprised you so that you can cheer up. I know you don’t care for grand gestures and you never ask this of me, but i like to do it and telling myself to *stop* doing it will make me feel dead inside. It’s unfair to put that standard on you and tbh I don’t want that, but I love feeling loved. Talk to me and validate me and make me feel like your present in my life.

I know this is all sounding one sided but you have done a LOT for me through out the years too. I think I’m less mean and crazy with you now than I used to be. You’ve exerted a lot of patience and leniency with me, especially though high school but also after college. Like when we travel and I used to go crazy planning, you bear with me. I remember I used to make you read my long ass college essays even though your probably didn’t fucking want to. You giving me meaningful gifts that you thought I would appreciate. You’ve tried your best to keep up with me— to give me my space when thats what I asked for, to be understanding when that’s what I needed, to put up with my childish, demanding, anal ways. Those qualities haven’t gone unnoticed by me.

I also know that you’ve grown up more and are more aware of my emotions. I know you’re not clingy to the point that you’ll be extremely upset if I’m busy. You take my feelings seriously, and when you point our flaws in me I also try to take them seriously and improve them. Ive come to terms with knowing there won’t be a lot of interactions with you, but at least they can be memorable when they do take place. But that has to be mutual. You’re depending on me more now because of the Eric situation which is fine but I’m hesitant to let myself be fully vulnerable. youll get back to your med school life, and eventually find a boyfriend and it’ll be back to being distant. It’s not ideal, but that’s life. You won’t really need me or pull at me. We’re adults so it manageable but it’s not such a pleasant feeling. I guess I am afraid of feeling used and then being left to tend to myself up until when you need me again

I won’t have any crazy expectations. I don’t want to burden you with all this, just want to communicate my feelings because sometimes it easier for me to clam up. I was thinking maybe I need to start asking you the questions that I would like for you to ask me. That way you can get an idea of the things that I like to talk about along with what we already discuss. I don’t want to keep repeating, to you, that maybe you’re not talking to me the way I would like. It makes you feel like there’s something wrong with how you’re communicating to me, rather than how I prefer things. And it’s always better to show, than tell.

Part 2:

I read my letter to her on the phone and she listened and agreed. I don’t know if I told you, maybe I mentioned it briefly, there was a period in hs after parker and I broke up, that I went mia for a week. Jen and I have been talking obsessively at that point so for me to just black out, and leave her in the dark like that took a huge toll on her. She realized that ‘I’m my own person, and I have a life without her’ so in college she tried to become more independent, to the point that she shut me out. I felt really betrayed because we had told ourselves we would still be super close and things wouldn’t change blah blah. But it felt like she knew they were going to change and she kept it to herself. Side note, although I was mia for that week, this was like first semester 12th grade— afterwards we were the “same” still continued to talk everyday, every moment like nothing changed. But her heart had changed and she never really let me knew how badly it impacted her. In college we were separated because she had to study 24/7 to get into med school and I was dealing with the horrors of my own life. In her spring semester of junior year, we had a huge fight where I told her that she’s always unavailable and hasn’t been a good friend. Things changed a little after that, we started talking more regularly but still sparse. I don’t have a lot of memories of us from that period, but I did hold a lot of pain. As college ended for her, she broke up with her toxic ex and started talking to me more. Not obsessively, but much more than we used to and in the manner a best friend would like calling me at 2am bc she’s sad and can’t sleep and staying on the phone with me all night even tho I had work the next day. I did that because I knew she was hurting, and I was in a better place, and I liked that she was depending on me again.

The next year was her off year and I moved back to nyc from Boston so we spent that entire year together and it was one of my favorites. We finally got to spend the time and do the things we wanted to do together since college. Went out to eat, explored new places, but it wasn’t perfect bc we couldn’t go clubbing since she was still scared of her parents. There were issues during this period tho, where she made me feel like shit- I couldn’t come over to her house bc I wasn’t in school therefore she had nothing good to say about me to her parents. It was hurtful. When she left for med school I had become clingy again and felt her absence deeply- instead of being bitter like I was in college I decide to outsource. I became close to Caitlin and we started doing all the crazy things Jen wasn’t able to do. Like staying out until 5am, doing coke, binge drinking. I was always angry at Jen in the back of my mind for not being there for me, but rationally knew that neither of us had a choice. After a year or so, my husband moved to SF, Caitlin started becoming crazy and super unreliable, and jen was busier than ever bc of school and *also* whenever she would come to visit nyc, her bf only made her hangout with him. We WOULD talk but it felt so casual that it drained me. I hated it, I felt so empty from it. I know some people would say that at least there was contact/effort there but it wasn’t enough for me. I was working and in school full time and it was hard bc I felt I couldn’t depend on anyone.

Eventually Ivan came into my life and it was a whirlwind. It consumed me, I was so fucking happy. Too happy— I started (unintentionally) talking to jen less and less bc I was so overwhelmed. She told me last night there were long stretches of me and her not talking, up to an entire month at one point. I honestly can’t even recall that. All I rmmbr is Ivan. She felt betrayed again and it triggered that similar pain from hs. Became emotionally distant, but then once she and Eric broke up, she propelled into my arms yet again and started depending on me emotionally. It sucked for me bc yeah I’m here for her but it felt she only reached out when she needed ME but I can’t reach her when I need her. Because I have to just be okay with the fact that there will be times when shes unavailable but it’s unacceptable if I’m too busy.

In my letter I basically told her I don’t feel cared for when we talk bc she’s not vulnerable with me which makes me feel not valued. As a friend, she’s great but as a bffl she’s not cutting it. I also said that she’s going to leave for residency and I don’t trust that we won’t be distant again, so I don’t want to fully invest myself. She told me my feelings are valid and that she’s been holding onto that pain from hs for a long time subconsciously and it’s affected her actions towards me. She essentially told me she doesn’t trust me bc she has a fear that I can leave at any moment and so won’t allow herself to be that vulnerable and clingy with me. I thought about that- and I agree it has been unfair to her. Just because I’m obsessive and crazy doesn’t mean I have the right to cut her off bc I feel like she’s not there enough. As an adult I have to understand that. To just drop off all communication like that, of course it’s going to have an effect. She agreed that we should have talked about the hs thing 10 fucking years ago instead of now. I think ultimately it would have been the same— I would have always felt bitterly jealous that she’s away busy doing stuff with other people. For me, there is no amount of talking or texting we could do that would replace an in person relationship. And sadly, there’s no way to sustain the relationship we had in hs. For her, it’s physically not possible and for me it’s not emotionally a good idea. Im very 0 to a 100 and that’s not how adults should be. She told me that it would probably be a good idea for me stay guarded and not extremely clingy as she goes off to her residency because we would be distant. I feel better talking to her and getting every thing off my chest esp bc I got to hear her side. I understand now why she acts the way she does, which makes me not harbor negative feelings for her.

[morethanonepage]

🔥Marvels Netflix shows?

unpopular opinion meme

this is legit the worst hot take i have ever had but: The Defenders is the most rewatchable & frankly enjoyable (to me) of all the Marvel Netflix Shows.

look. i’m not saying it’s the best: Jessica Jones and Luke Cage are tied (JJ obviously has its problems but stylistically and acting wise it’s excellent, while LC is immaculate when it comes to characters and setting and message, but I find the villains and the ending of S1 really frustrating, especially since it had to be so quickly undone for The Defenders to work), Daredevil s1 was okay, S2 was The Worst except for Elektra, and I haven’t and will never see Iron Fist.

HOWEVER. JJ is too dark and exhausting to rewatch for funsies, LC has so many frustrating plot developments (esp toward the end) that it’d feel like too much of a chore to dive in again, and god honestly eff DD, S2 made me hate Matt & Karen so much that I couldn’t even enjoy the cute stuff from S1 anymore. 

The Defenders is, by comparison, a little bit lighter, the character’s playing off other element is well executed, the number of people who roll their eyes at Danny Rand and LITERALLY HAVE TO RESCUE HIM and then also chew him out for his privilege is A DELIGHT, and man honestly even by the end, I found him kind of adorable in a dumb puppy kind of way. There’s no Matt/Karen drag and he’s got a fun little friendship going with Jessica, Jessica gets some great scenes with Trish, which is what I’m here for, Luke and Claire’s relationship!!! is a thing!!!! they’re so cute together!!!! And Colleen is around being cool, and Misty, and basically it’s enough of an ensemble piece that even the weaker stuff (Danny, the continued gross Yellow Peril nonsense) is balanced by truly excellent turns from Elodie and Sigourney Weaver. Also dang but I do love a good immortal (esp when referencing Historic Events they were part of hundreds of years ago) and The Defenders has?? so many??? i love it. 

The plot is kind of stupid admittedly – and requires too much knowledge of Iron Fist, always a mistake – but just in general, it was fun, goofy nonsense that didn’t take itself nearly as seriously or epically as previous Netflix MCU shows. Like it wasn’t film MCU snarky stuff – it just like, hey, these assholes out there, trying to make things work with each other, but they’re all kind of dicks so it’s not easy. 

It was fun, to be honest. And I think the MCU netflix shows tend to be Quality Television™ but are usually p low on actual enjoyable viewing experience.

#unpopular opinion meme #i think it was also a victim of a lot of backlash -- esp w/r/t danny rand #which again: understandable #danny's the worst and by all accounts iron fist is a terrible show #but they did what i thought was the right thing by leaning into how ridiculous he and his backstory are #and having all the other characters roll their eyes at him #it was good #youandthemountains #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[ratherlastminute-blog]

Post 5 - Meme Culture

Probably the weirdest, most ‘post-modern’, significant and stupid societal development of recent years is the meme.

That being said, what is a meme? Well, it really depends who you ask, and when you asked them.

The term is credited to Richard Dawkins in his book ‘The Selfish Gene’, he described is as any idea which self-propagated through society due to it being interesting, funny, or otherwise noteworthy.

In modern popular discourse, a meme can often refer to any kind of joke; though this is typically not meant without irony. For example, someone might try to wind up their friend to get a reaction, and when they do they absolve themselves of repercussions claiming ‘it’s only a meme’.

In the relatively early days of internet memes, sites like memebase.com, cheeseburger network, 9GAG and Imgur.com decided what constituted a meme, and it typically looked something like this:

These are what have come to be known as ‘meme formats’ or ‘templates’, where one might take an image and overlay it with text, changing the text to add nuanced meaning and frequently after a meme format has seen its day it will become a meta meme or perhaps become a misused format. The latter is particularly prevalent as the older generation who doesn’t necessarily understand memes begins to misappropriate them.

The thing that I personally find most interesting about memes is the variation of quality among them, one popular meta meme from reddit was the ‘I painted the ___ who painted ___ who…’ format which circulated on r/Pics around January 2019. It consisted of a redditor posting a picture of them posing with a painting they had made of another redditor posing with their painting of another redditor… and so on and so on. Participating in this meme required not only a large amount of artistic skill to render an increasingly complicated picture as people added a layer, but a huge amount of time and effort.

Compare this to a meme craze which is currently sweeping Facebook, the niche shitposting group which becomes a metameme group. Shitposting is difficult to define, but it is essentially posting low quality, relatively amusing content which usually is making a joke at someone or something’s expense. On Facebook you can easily find a group targeted to pretty much any popular franchise, film, person, etc. and they all take the same format and tend to live the same cycle. “David Bowie Starposting” “Marvel Shieldposting” “Brooklyn 99 Holtposting”, indeed even my university has its own such group “Loughborough Towersposting”.

Such groups typically begin as a small group amusing each other, then as the group grows it becomes more and more meta, certain meme formats become popular in short bursts then become parodied near instantly before moving on to a new format which is then cannibalised shortly after.

This effect of digital media has proven to be one of the most popular aspects of it and yet one of the most difficult to predict and emulate without being a part of the culture yourself. The many attempts that big companies, politicians or even just adults have made to venture into meme culture have indeed themselves become the product of memes, groups like r/FellowKids which mocks companies, teachers and parents’ attempts at implementing memes have become hugely popular, many such groups like ‘Why is baby boomer humour so weird?’, ‘r/OldPeopleFacebook’ and countless more exist. The meme as a concept has the highly post-modern tendency to become meta and self-parody, and indeed other aspects of post-modernism have bled into meme culture seamlessly. Existential angst is often the topic of memes, the sheer volume of memes and variation is reminiscent of Fredric Jameson’s (1991) opinions of post-fordism and the expansion of cultural productions to undermine traditional powers and ethics.

So, when thinking again the same question we started with; what exactly is a meme? Well, it’s still hard to answer that. If you were to ask for my personal opinion, I might be inclined to agree with what Andy Warhol would be likely to say – Real art is commercial art, and commercial art is real art. Memes are fundamentally a part of pop culture in 2019, so by extension they must also be art.

Or maybe they’re just stupid in jokes that hold no artistic or cultural value.

In all honesty, it’s hard to tell which.

Appendix:

Word count – 722

Bibliography:

Dawkins, R. (1978). The Selfish Gene. Evolution, 32(1), 220. doi: 10.2307/2407425

Jameson, F. (1991). Postmodernism, or, the cultural logic of late capitalism. Duke University Press.

Lyotard, J. F. (1984). The postmodern condition: A report on knowledge (Vol. 10). U of Minnesota Press.

Shifman, L. (2014). Memes in digital culture. Mit Press.

[redeyedryu]

Apathy & Happenstance

Chapter 5 - Misunderstandings and Memes [Ao3] | 1 | 4 | x | 

It only took me two months but here’s chapter 5! I’m so sorry for the wait I’m absolutely terrible.

Summary:  You answer the call; misunderstandings ensue. You and Sans share a little memement and you make a skeleton pout.

He called you for a reason, right? So you should answer the call, yeah?

Papyrus is angrily tapping his foot, irritated that it's taking you so long to make a decision. You can hear something that sounds like a growl eliminating from the explosive skeleton and have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep the grin off your lips. Maybe you'll let it ring a bit longer? Just to piss him off.

So you do just that.

You wait until the last possible second to answer the call, teeth clenching as you reign in a wicked grin. You imagine that if Papyrus had hair he'd probably be pulling at it by now, livid at your inability to do something as basic as answering a simple phone call. Eventually though, despite the anxiety bubbling in your chest, you force it down and hit ‘answer’, setting the call to speaker as Papyrus growls an exasperated, “FINALLY!” before returning his attention to gazing out the window.

Time to get this over with. And maybe give Edgelord a tiny break.

Before you get a chance to say anything, however—not even a greeting or an opportunity to breathe awkwardly into the receiver—you're met with a deep voice asking, "this some kinda sick joke?"

You're stunned into silence, blinking a couple times in your confusion. Is this Papyrus? The voice doesn't quite match up with what you had imagined—if anything, it reminds you of the smaller, rounder of the two skeletons; it's a low, rumbling baritone. And what does he mean? What's a 'sick joke'? "What?" is your very eloquent reply.

“look, pal,” he starts, pure venom to what would otherwise be a friendly moniker, “i dunno if this is just how you get your rocks off or what, but this ain't funny.”

You try to cut in but he doesn't stop, just keeps going off on you. That you're sick, that you need to get a life and stop dickin’ around with Papyrus.

Geeze, this guy isn't even giving you a chance to explain anything. Whatever. Might as well let him blow off whatever steam he's got, you can wait. He’s probably been on the verge of a meltdown for a while if this tirade is anything to go by. People don't typically just blow up like this for no good reason, after all.

Not unless they're ‘The Great and Terrible Papyrus’, your mind supplies dryly, causing you to huff air through your nose in a quiet laugh. Rather unfortunate that you have to be the one on the receiving end of this outburst, though.

You lean back into the plush of the couch, eyes closing as you let the stranger on the other end do his thing.

It's easy to tune people out when you don’t let their words hold any weight over you.

You're not sure how much time passes, and at some point you feel the couch shift as someone sits down beside you (honestly a little closer than you’d like). Probably Sans, you think. Must have gotten his fill of the view. That or he’s curious about whoever it is that’s tearing you a new one.

Eventually, you tune back in to the rant on your phone just in time to hear,

“don't ever let me catch you tryin’ to contact my brother again, capiche?”

Seems he’s done with his rant, as well as expecting some sort of reply, considering he didn’t just hang up on you.

You’re admittedly kind of curious about what's going on in their lives if this is his automatic response to someone trying to make light conversation (though, to be fair, you might have instigated a potential existential crisis) with his brother, but decide you don't care enough to pursue that train of thought. The angry monster on the other line is still awaiting a response, so you take the opportunity to finally speak up.

You take a deep breath, not bothering to open your eyes or lift your head from the cushion of the couch, and then release it. “You done?” you ask the voice on the other line. Silence is your only answer so you take that as a yes. “Look,” you continue with something of a sigh, “I don't know what's got your bones all rattled, mister, but I can assure you this isn't a joke. Believe me, that’d be loads better than having to deal with this headache.

“I get that this is really weird and that pictures can be edited, and judging by your reaction just now, you've probably been dealing with some shit, so how about this…”

Cracking your eyes open, you pull your screen in front of you, the device lighting up with the motion. You zero in on the little camera icon on the interface and tap it, causing the screen to immediately begin displaying a thumbnail of your face; the live feed is undoubtedly being displayed to the ball of anger on the other line at a bigger resolution.

“It's a bit harder to edit live footage, right?” There's the shuffling of fabric as you sit up from your slouched position and shift your phone to capture the skeleton sitting beside you. And yup, kudos to you, that is definitely edgy mcsharktooth sitting next to you. “Say hi to Sans, Sans.”

The sharp-toothed skeleton beside you merely makes a sound reminiscent of a tongue clicking before flipping the camera the bird, looking rather smug over his childish display.

“Rude,” you half-heartedly scold as the sharp-toothed skeleton chuckles, before swiveling the phone to capture sight of Papyrus, who's still standing in front of your window. He looks pensive, standing there with his arms crossed, his expression tight, and his posture ramrod straight.

“And over here, we have Papyrus: Edgelord edition.” you announce. The addressed skeleton shifts his skull to send a scathing glare your way, his sockets narrowing, before he simply averts his attention back to the view outside. With a quiet laugh of air pushed through your nose, you twist the phone back to you.

“Still think I'm ‘dickin’ around’?” you query, your expression flat, one eyebrow raised. There's silence on the other line for a beat—long enough that you have to question whether or not Sans (and you know it's Sans for sure, he practically admitted it himself, after all) hung up on you. It's just as you're clicking a button at the side of your phone to illuminate your screen that his voice finally breaks the silence that settled. "huh..." he scoffs, and you hear the strange sound of something hard scratching against something equally as unyielding. "wasn't... wasn't expectin' that." Yeah, take that, mister grumpy pants, feel that guilt roll across your bones. "guess you really weren't messin' with paps..." There's the sound of what you assume to be bone rubbing against bone again before he says, "i uh... i s'pose i owe you an apology..." A corner of your mouth twitches, a smile tugging at his acquiescence, and proceed to click out of the video call, returning to voice only. Phone now resting on your chest, you're able to fully slouch back into the couch cushions, releasing a heavy breath of air as you do. "Yup." "sorry, bud." The apology doesn't really feel sincere, in all honesty, but at least he acknowledged that he was wrong. At least he made an attempt. That’s more than you’ve gotten from others. At his "apology" your grin grows full force, the corners of your lips curling. Your response is a near automatic, "Not your bud, pal." There's a snicker on the other line before Sans, not missing a beat, shoots back, "not your pal, friend." "Not your friend, mate." "not your m-" "th' fuck you two doin'?" snaps the skeleton at your side, effectively putting an end to your impromptu back-and-forth. You can't help but laugh. "Memes, Sans. Memes." you tell him, tilting your head to the side to grin at him. "Only the greatest of quality content the internet can provide." "th' fuck're 'memes'? 'internet'?" he questions you, the space around his nasal cavity and his eye sockets curiously scrunching up in his befuddlement. "don't cha mean th’ undernet?" You quirk a brow before shifting your head back to a forward facing position, head shaking ever so slightly in disbelief. "Oh man. You poor, poor soul." "tch. whatever, ya weirdos." he growls, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring off to the side. You're able to just make out his quiet mumbling of, "how would i know 'bout yer stupid aboveground jokes." "Hey," you nudge the pouting skeleton with your elbow, effectively getting him to look back at you (though the edges of his seemingly permanent grin appear tight and dipped). "No need to get all salty." You have to bite your lip at the way the ridges of his skull, just above his eye sockets, furrow like eyebrows in his confusion, trying to puzzle out how he could be considered salty without any salt—were you planning on dumping some on him or something? Was that another weird ass aboveground thing? Did humans sprinkle themselves with salt for some reason? Or was it just another dumbass expression? Probably that last one, he surmises. You, meanwhile, are still trying to maintain a semi-neutral façade. You're finding it really hard to deny how fun it is, riling these two up. You can sparsely recall a time in the last few years where you smiled and laughed as much as you have in the last hour or so. It feels... nice. Really nice.

So when you tell the grumpy skeleton, "I can give you a crash course—on memes and surface culture—if you want." you twist to face him, sincerity in not only your words but your expression as well. You see that curious little pin prick of light in his eye socket shift to look at you—he doesn't turn to face you, still sitting with his arms crossed and turned just slightly away—and simply makes that clicking sound again, "tch", before resuming his pouting. You think his skull looks a bit red but you're not sure—maybe the light's playing tricks on your eyes? Whether he's blushing some weird variant of a skeleton blush or not, you can't help but to snicker. Seems he's not quite used to sincerity and sentimentality. But you're getting off track now, aren't you? Since you still have Sans on the phone—well, blue Sans since red Sans is pouting at your side (goodness, this is going to get so confusing)—you might as well get to the heart of the matter. You take a deep breath, hold it for a beat, and then exhale, refocusing. You tilt your head down a fraction towards your phone and ask, "You still there, Sans?" The skeleton's deep voice answers, "yup." "Alright. Cool. Good." Oh god, stop yourself before you start rambling. "So since all that fun stuff's been cleared up, how about we get down to business? D'you know what's going on?" You cast a glance to the Sans sitting next to you as you pose the question. Yup, he's still pouting. "Either of you, actually. I take it y'all aren't pairs of twins that just so happen to share the same name as well as face." "heh. nah, they ain't that." Blue Sans is quick to respond. "Evil clones?" Red Sans sputters at your side and you think you hear Papyrus choke on air over by the window. "e-evil clo- tha heck kinda dumbass question izzat?!" the shark-toothed skeleton practically growls, now twisted to face you. You snicker and shift to sit sideways, to address him face-to-face. You prop your face up on your knuckles, elbow pressed into the cushion of the couch, and set your phone on the top of the couch. "Well I mean your brother does go around calling himself the great and terrible. How else am I supposed to take that? Not to mention your guys' wardrobe choice." "tha heck's wrong with our clothes?" he snaps defensively, his eyelights dipping to take a quick glance at his attire before flicking back to you. "Nothing, nothing," you're quick to respond. You're biting your tongue, trying to keep yourself from laughing more. The Sans on the other end of the line, however, is chuckling unabashedly. "you dress like an edgy teenager, is what she's tryin' not to say," he manages to get out between his laughter.

Talk about tact. Thanks a lot, Sans. "wha-! i ain't-! you don't-! sh-shut up." Red Sans stammers. Oh great, he's turned himself away from you again. He's embarrassed, isn't he? "Aw, come on, don't be embarrassed," you attempt to placate the flustered monster. "I think it looks pretty cool. Black and red go really well together!" "sh-shut th' fuck up n' stop messin' with me!" he practically snarls, that curious red tinge dusting across his skull again. You think maybe you should feel bad about teasing him but you're currently overcome with a pleasant sense of childish giddiness. It’s such a refreshing difference to always feeling so numb, so… empty. "Okay, okay. Alright. I'm sorry, alright?" you manage to say, only letting a single, quiet giggle escape your lips. "Let's just move on and get back on topic, yeah?”

Red Sans doesn’t grumble or growl in disagreement, so you press on. "So if you're not clones—evil or otherwise—what are you guys?" "i've got an idea," blue Sans speaks up. You look to the phone, curious. Red Sans's skull tilts ever so slightly in your direction; obviously listening too. Though you can't see the broody skeleton at your window with your back now turned on him, you're sure Papyrus is listening as well. "Yeah?" you prompt. "how familiar are you with the multiverse theory?"

#Red Drabbles #Undertale Fanfiction #Underfell Fanfiction #Reader Insert #Apathy and Happenstance