#you know what sure ill post it this year i no longer can feel shame 💀

[harlequinalis]

#you know what sure ill post it this year i no longer can feel shame 💀 #'you listened to feed the machine 76 times this year' #'you couldn't stop listening to eat you alive' #i know but you didn't have to say it 💀 #top 2% of the oh hellos listeners this year woot 💪 #sorry crane wives you didn't make the top 5 this year but you're still my fave ✌😔 #you can tell i was having a normal one this year 💀

[dinsdjrn]

gone, from austin | j. miller | part two

brothers best friend!pre-outbreak!joel x f!reader

summary: Joel Miller: the one that got away; right person, wrong time. Now you’re back in Austin and it hurts just as bad, as if you’d never left five years ago. [w.c. 2.4k]

warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, no use of y/n, light angst, Sarah is alive and well, f!reader, smoking, depression, brief mentions of a mental breakdown, implied cheating (not joel), ex-lovers to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn, lmk if i missed anything <3

💌 a/n: FINALLY a part two? who am i?? anyways not sure how i feel about this story... but i know how i want it to end so ill keep going for that. lmk your thoughts <3

previous part | next part | masterlist

Part two | May 2002

You were a work of art, that’s the hardest part.

It had been three weeks since you had gotten home. You had become more than a bit of a hermit, looking and applying for jobs. You made yourself sparse in the house, you understood everything your brother did was an open invitation to you, but it was easier to disappear. It also gave you time to process, when you left Toronto it was a whirlwind, but now it was a dulling ache. Friends had reached out, wondering where you went, if you were okay. You gave them enough information so they wouldn’t worry, but not enough to come looking for you.

It was Friday morning, just like any other morning, you were searching through medical journals and websites looking for job postings. Search, apply, wait, and wait some more. It wasn’t very thrilling, but it was something to do to keep your head above water.

The alarm on your phone had begun ringing, 10 am, you reached into your desk drawer and took your meds. They filled a hole in your head you hadn’t known was there until you had a small breakdown two years ago. It was something only a few people in your life knew about, it wasn’t something you ever really wanted out there. There was almost a shamefulness to it, no one in Austin knew, and then one person in Toronto who knew about it was no longer welcome in your life. So you move on, continue as you have and hope that your ticket out comes sooner rather than later. 

A soft knock came at your door. 

“Come in!” You said, closing the desk drawer quickly. 

“Hey! Someone is at the door for you,” Kelsey popped her head in and smiled. 

You looked down at your Dell Med School t-shirt and Roots sweatpants and laughed lightly. 

“Is it anyone important?” You asked embarrassed gesturing to your pajama centered clothing choices. 

“I am sure they won’t even notice.”

You sighed and stood up, you lightly stretched and made your way downstairs. Just as the entryway came into view there was Sarah and Joel, Sarah with her backpack on and Joel shifting uncomfortably looking at the floor. 

“Hey guys,” you said, smiling at them. 

“Hey!” Sarah smiled. 

“What’s up? Shouldn’t you be at school already?” You questioned. 

“I had a dentist appointment this morning. We just came back to the house to grab my bag, but I wanted to see if you were around tonight,” She swayed, clearly hoping you’d say yes.

“I’m uh-, not sure,” You looked at Joel for guidance but he wasn’t paying any attention to you his sole focus was on Sarah. 

“I just really wanted to have that sleepover you promised! My dad is going out tonight and suggested it would be a good time for us to hang out and -“

“But only if you are available and want to,” Joel interrupted.

“Oh, yeah! That sounds like it could be fun. Why don’t I come over around 5ish and we can order some pizza?” You smiled at her. 

It would be much more comfortable without Joel there, you had felt like you were walking on eggshells when he would pop over to have a beer with Jake or help Kelsey fix things around the house. 

Joel nodded. 

“Alright baby girl, time to get you to school,” he began shuffling Sarah out the door. 

“See you tonight!” Sarah called over her shoulder. 

You waved at her in response and when the door clicked closed you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“You know, she really did miss having you around,” Kels leaned against the doorway behind you. 

“I know,” You sighed, “I just don’t know what I’m getting myself into.”

“What do you mean? You’ve known her since she was just a little kid. You’re not getting yourself into anything except maybe forgiving yourself for hurting her.” Kelsey said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“You don’t fucking get it! This isn’t a permanent solution. I can’t stay, I don’t belong here anymore! I don’t want to get her hopes up that I might by hanging out with her and letting things go back to the way they were. That will just hurt her again.” You snapped, a pang of annoyance in your chest.

“You being here and ignoring her, it hurts them both. You can talk a big game about how you don’t belong here, but this is your home, your family. I don’t know what happened between you and Joel, but it is clear he still cares about you. Is staying really the worst thing? At least thinking about it?” 

“They are not my family, you and Jake absolutely are. And you’re right, maybe this was home once, but it’s not anymore. All that’s left is a permanent scar of what could have been. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” You turned to walk up the stairs. 

Kelsey came and put her hand over yours on the railing. 

“Look I’m sorry if I overstepped. I only want to see you happy,” Her voice was soft and apologetic. 

You just nodded in response and made your way back up the stairs, once in your room you made your way to the bed and cried into your pillow. You knew the love for Austin was there, it had always been there, but so was the hurt. The pain would always be there too, it painted your soul in blues and grays. That’s the hardest part, how beautifully life painted your anguish here. 

The day came and went quickly, and you felt unprepared for your sleepover with Sarah. You knew it would be nice to hang out, do face masks and watch a few movies, but your anxiety was palpable. You were worried it would feel like grasping at a life you could’ve had, but were strictly denied. 

You made your way next door around five and before you could even knock the door had swung open and Sarah was pulling you inside. 

“You’re here! Finally, I’ve been thinking about what we could do tonight all day. Dad said he would call a few pizzas in, we went to CVS after school too! I got nail polish, face masks, and some weird snacks,” Sarah spoke excitedly. 

It gave you a bit of whiplash, barely able to even get in a few “Alrights” or “Sounds Fun”’s in. 

“Woah, woah, Sarah slow down,” Joel said as you made your way into their living room. 

He was sitting on the couch in a black t-shirt and Levis, his hair was wet and the messy ways were pushed off his forehead. He was still so devilishly handsome, he never tried too hard with his looks, but that didn’t mean he didn’t look good; it arguably made him more attractive. 

“A’right, I’m going to get outta here,” He put his hands on his lap and made his way to stand, “Tommy is gonna be here any second.” 

“Dad, did you remember to order pizza?” Sarah asked with a hint of annoyance. 

“Oh shit,” he felt his pockets pulling out his phone, “I’ll call on the way over to the bar.”

“Don’t worry about it, Joel. I’ll get it,” You smiled softly at him, pulling out your own phone. 

“Y’sure?” He asked. 

“Yes, yes, she’s sure, now, go have fun. We have a very important girls night to get started on.” Sarah shooed her father toward the door.

Joel just laughed and rolled his eyes, you shrugged in response. 

As soon as you heard the door shut Sarah came rushing back to the living room. 

“Sorry, he’s a mess,” Sarah laughed.

“I can see that nothing has changed,” You laughed with her. 

You both fell into a comfortable conversation, it was nice to see Sarah so happy. She was completely different then when you had left, yet somehow exactly the same. 

The night was spent watching cheesy rom-coms, doing face masks and nails, and eventually Sarah had fallen asleep in her pajamas on the couch. It was nearly one in the morning, you placed a blanket over her small frame and began quietly tidying the living room. 

The night had warmed your heart in a way you weren’t sure you’d be able to feel again. Sarah was such a light in your life for so long, and now she was turning into this beautiful and kind teenager. You had talked all about her school, Joel and Tommy’s shenanigans, and what’s been happening around Austin. She didn’t push you though, you had talked about Toronto and being away from home without delving into any fresh wounds.

 It was nice, it felt good to know when you left it wasn’t your last memory of Sarah. You worried for years it had been and you’d have to watch her grow through the lens of your brother, but here she was in the flesh. 

You sighed, putting the leftover pizza in the fridge and pouring any extra soda from your glasses down the drain. You went and checked on Sarah after you had finished cleaning up to make sure she was still sleeping. She hadn’t even stirred, so you took this as the best opportunity to step outside and have a smoke. 

It wasn’t something you were proud of, but was something that you would normally only do after particularly stressful days. Today would classify as one, you didn’t like fighting with Kels. That, plus the anxiety of coming to the Miller’s and not knowing what to expect, warranted a need to de-stress. 

You made your way into the backyard, only closing the screen door in case Sarah woke up, and placed a cigarette between your lips. Just as you were searching through your bag for a light a voice startled you. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you smoked?” Joel. 

Fuck, you knew he probably wouldn’t have been much later, but it felt pathetic to be sneaking a cigarette on his back porch. 

“Not often, but you’d be surprised how common it is in healthcare.” You said finding the lighter and lighting the end. 

He looked at you for a moment, and you realized maybe he didn’t want you smoking on his back porch. 

“Oh, shit sorry, you okay if I-“ 

“Oh, yeah, I don’t really care,” he hurried before you could finish your question.

“Cool,” you said. 

The silence grew uncomfortable between you two. 

“I, uh, didn’t mean to startle y’a there,” Joel said. 

“Oh,” 

“I just saw the light on and wondered if you were out here.” 

“And here I was…”

“Here you were,” He shifted, “You always loved it back here. Sitting looking up at the stars after Sarah went to bed.”

“Yeah, I think I missed the stars the most while I was in Toronto,” you sighed. 

“I always thought they’d’ve had more stars up there,” he looked up at the sky. 

You had finished about half of the cigarette and put it out, it wasn’t doing anything for you at the moment except make you want to shower. 

“Not in the city, it was like a shitty, colder, New York,” You laughed. 

Joel chuckled at your comment. He came closer to you and leaned on the railing of the deck with you. It felt almost suffocating, he was so close to you and it felt so intimate. 

“Y’know, we’re really happy you’re here,” He said quietly. 

“Joel, don’t…” you warned. 

“I mean it, Sarah never stopped asking about you. She missed you, this girl's night made her whole year.” 

“Joel, please,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. You already carried so much guilt for leaving Sarah with nothing but a goodbye. You knew he was trying to comfort you but he was crushing your soul with guilt instead. 

“I’m sorry darlin’ I just… always asked myself what if things were different. Where we would be, how would Sarah be different if you had stayed,” 

His words ignited a fire within you, one that burned in anger and resentment. Who was he to ask what if, when he gave no choice in whether or not you had a chance at finding out. 

“We could talk about maybes and what ifs until we’re blue in the face, it doesn’t turn back time. Doesn’t change anything between us. You made a choice, Joel, and so you don’t get the what if’s,” You snapped. 

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. 

“I’m allowed to wonder,” He retorted. “You weren’t the only one hurt, y’know?”

“Well guess what, I wasn’t the one that wanted out when things got a little bit complicated.”

“Wanted out? You think I wanted out?! Fucking Christ, I didn’t want to hold you back. I have no choice but to stay in Austin, letting you go meant that you wouldn’t be tied down here!” His voice was quiet, but he was clearly irritated.

“I didn’t need you to let me go, I’m very capable of making my own choices. And if I had chosen to stay I needed you to tell me everything would be okay.” 

You weren’t speaking in a hushed tone like he was. You were frustrated, angry, he had completely backtracked on your breakup. Tears stung your eyes, you were frustrated and confused. 

“I’m done talking about this, Joel,” You said, wiping the tears away from your eyes. “You said your piece five years ago, and nothing is going to change that.”

You turned to head back inside, now that he was here you’d be able to walk back over to Jake’s and go to sleep. Make an attempt at forgetting this conversation ever happened and pretend your night ended with you and Sarah asleep on the couch. 

Joel grabbed your wrist before you got too far. 

“Please, just let me explain.” He pleaded. 

You pulled your wrist from his grip and left as promptly as you came. 

Your chest was tight and it was as if you could feel your heart shattering all over again into a million little pieces. The ghost of his love haunted you for years. He was still the same man you fell in love with, that much was certain. In that, it also meant, he was still the same man who broke your heart. 

And that was a risk you were not willing to take. 

To spiral out, to try and float, to see a friend, to see a ghost.

tags: @thetriumphantpanda @fruit-frogs @wand-erer5 @missgurrl @casa-boiardi @harriedandharassed @undrthelights @wishyoudaskme @reader-without-a-story @morning-star-joy @tightjeansjavi & once again sorry if i missed anyone or lmk if youd like to be on the taglist xo.

#joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #joel x reader #joel miller series #joel miller self insert #joel miller story #joel miller smut #pre outbreak!joel

[12timetraveler]

The Lamb, The Dove, And The Fox

Chapter 1

Summary:

When reader is rescued by an outlaw couple, her life is flipped upside down in the best way.

Notes:

Listen. This was supposed to be just a smutty little bit of fun. But then I figured I needed to develop Bessie as a character, and then I needed to develop readers attachment with Bessie. And then I felt I wasn't giving Hosea enough attention, and then I felt I needed to build up the sexual tension. And then, and then, and then, and... Well now we're here. It's a long one but I'm quite proud of it.

This will be at least two chapters, maybe even three. Should be finished fairly soon but I thought I'd post the first bit

Below is a little teaser.

Read the whole first chapter on ao3

~~~~~~~~

Hosea and Bessie had found you, half-starved, standing on the gallows in some small town in the Rockies, about to be hung for trying to steal some bread from the general store. You were hungry and desperate, but unfortunately not that great of a thief.

Your family had fallen ill over the winter and died. Left alone, you discovered that your father was horribly in debt, and you'd lost everything. You'd done your best to survive on your own, homeless, skill-less, penniless. You'd made it to late summer by luck alone, but you wouldn't last much longer.

No one in town seemed particularly pleased with the hanging, aside from the sheriff and his brother, the owner of the general store. It was clear that you were no hardened, dangerous criminal. Just a poor girl trying to survive. But what could they do? The sheriff and his family owned half the town. They'd had the people under their thumbs for years.

So there you stood, rope around your neck and hands tied behind your back. Once the noose was secure, they placed a blindfold over your eyes. You wished they'd left it off. The view from the gallows, looking over the mountainside, was quite stunning. If you were to see your last view today, you'd want it to be something like that.

The sheriff was giving some grand speech about petty thieves, proclaiming to the town that you were clearly a horrible, sinful woman. You weren't really paying attention. If you did you were afraid you'd dissolve into tears. You didn't want to give the sheriff and his brother the satisfaction. You'd rather stay strong and stone-faced.

There was no applause or cheering when the sheriff finished his speech. Only the silence of a people broken after years of neglect and abuse from the leaders of their town. Your heart was racing in panic, but you did your best to keep your breathing even.

You heard the creaking of the sheriff approaching the lever to drop the floor out from under you. So this was it. This was how you'd die.

Right as the sheriff pulled the lever, dropping the board out from under your feet, two gunshots rang out. Instead of the rope snapping around your neck, you fell to the grass below you, crumpling to the ground. You gasped and cried out, shocked at the feeling of grass against your face instead of bones snapping under the rope. You were still blindfolded, and weren't sure what was going on, but what you did know was that aside from a raw neck and a sore ankle, you were still alive.

"You'd hang a young woman for trying not to starve to death? For shame," a man's voice echoed across gallows, crisp and fierce. A few cheers went up in the crowd of onlookers. "What sort of lawless hell is this, where a starving woman cannot find mercy, but the greedy, wealthy men of the town can hang her for trying to survive," the man spoke so confidently, even through the obvious anger in his voice. Anger on your behalf.

You heard footsteps on the grass jogging toward you, followed by the rustle of skirts as a woman knelt beside you. Hands touched your arm, sliding up to your shoulder before gently rolling you so she could examine your bound hands.

"Don't worry, miss," she murmured soothingly, giving your arm a reassuring rub. "You're not dying today."

"Th-thank you," you whimpered hoarsely. You felt a knife cut through the ropes around your wrists before gentle fingers touched your face, removing your blindfold.

You blinked against the light as your eyes adjusted. The world spun slightly from the shock of everything before slowly coming into focus.

Kneeling beside you was a beautiful woman in her mid-to-late thirties or so. Blonde curls bounced naturally around her shoulders, and kind, stunning blue eyes stared at you over the edge of a bandana mask tied around her nose. She wore a purple dress, clean but not overly fancy, and around her hip sat a pair of guns.

"Are you okay?" She asked, carefully pulling the loop of the noose from your neck. You could see the frayed fibers from where the rope had snapped, or rather had been shot through. You could only nod to the woman, stunned by the turn of events. "Can you stand?"

You nodded again and allowed her to help you to your feet. She tenderly linked your arm through hers, helping keep you steady and offering some small comfort as you walked away from what should have been your death. You couldn't avoid a slight limp from the way your ankle rolled when you hit the ground, but you did your best to walk calmly alongside the woman as she led you out from underneath the gallows.

Standing in front of the crowd was a man, even blonder than the woman, platinum hair almost silver in the sunshine. Like her, he also had a bandana up over his nose, and guns around his hips. His clothes were clean but simple, a vest over a basic button-up shirt and some pinstriped pants tucked into tall cowboy boots.

The man was still talking, alternating between scolding the lawmen and beseeching the townsfolk to have some compassion where their leaders did not. His voice was almost hypnotic, the way he spun words like one might spin wool into thread. The onlookers were falling on his every sentence, and you could feel the energy thrumming as the beaten down townsfolk started to get mad. No one was even looking at you anymore as the woman led you out.

"Come on," the woman murmured, gently tugging you away from the gallows and the crowd. "We should get to the horses. He'll be along in a minute. We'll get you somewhere safe, get you fed, and then you can decide what you want to do,"

You were in no position to argue with your rescuer, not that you wanted to. It was the first bit of kindness you'd seen in months. A small part of you wanted to be wary of the two strangers who managed to shoot through the rope. That wasn't exactly a common or innocent skill to have. But a larger part of you was just exhausted and lonely. The woman radiated a kind, calm aura, and you wanted nothing more than to stay by her side as long as possible and soak it all up.

You allowed the woman to lead you down the road where a pair of horses were hitched up. You didn't miss the number of guns holstered in both horses' saddles. These two weren't simple farmers, that was for sure. But somehow you still weren't afraid of the woman or the man.

"How's your neck?" The woman asked as you stopped beside the horses. She tipped your chin up lightly with a finger, looking you over. You were becoming aware of the burning sensation around your neck. "Little bit of rope burn," the woman tsked. "We'll get some medicine on that once we're out of here," she let go of your face and you slowly lowered your chin, eyes studying hers. "I'm sorry we weren't faster," she sighed.

You blinked at her, surprised by the genuine guilt she seemed to feel, as if it she hadn't just saved your life.

"It'll heal in time," you said, clearing your throat. "But the alternative wouldn't,"

"I guess that's true," the woman sighed, giving you a small smile. "Come on,"

The woman helped you up onto the back of one of the horses before she pulled herself up onto the saddle in front of you. She patted her mount's neck, cooing a few encouraging words.

It wasn't long before you spotted the man swaggering down the street toward you. Even with his bandana covering his nose and mouth, you could practically see the self-satisfied grin on his face. Behind him the crowd of townsfolk appeared to be rioting against the crooked sheriff and his nasty brother. You couldn't find even a crumb of sympathy for either of them as the onlookers swarmed the gallows. You hadn't been in this town long, but you'd gathered that the sheriff and his family were cruel bastards who trampled over the folks in town. Your near-hanging was just the spark needed to set everything off.

"Well," the man chirped, pulling his bandana down. "Seems the locals aren't very fond of the sheriff. I didn't have to say much to get that going." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the ruckus. The woman also pulled down her bandana, no longer afraid of repercussions from a sheriff who might not live to see sundown.

"Even still I think it's time we get out of here," the woman said. "I doubt the young miss wants to hang about much longer," the woman glanced over her shoulder at you, and you shook your head.

The man moved alongside his horse, ready to mount up, but paused when he took in your appearance. No doubt you looked somewhat pathetic, starved and dirty, clothes old and torn. He stepped back and reached into his saddle bag.

"Here," the man said, pulling out some salted meat. "I doubt they gave you anything to eat in the jailhouse," he stepped forward and offered it to you.

You tried not to look like a starving mouse, really you did, but you snatched that salted meat from his hands and began nibbling it before you could even blink. In that moment, having gone days without food, that dried beef tasted like the best meal you'd ever had. You couldn't suppress a satisfied moan at the first taste of food you'd had in days.

The man gave you a knowing smile, like he'd been there before, knew exactly how that kind of hunger sat in one's stomach. He tipped his hat politely before turning back to his horse.

"Thank you," you mumbled, trying not to choke around a mouthful of food. You swallowed your mouthful. "For everything. I don't know how I'll repay you,"

"You're welcome, dear girl," the man said, pulling himself up onto his horse. "And don't worry about any of that 'repayment' nonsense. For now just relax. You're safe now. Well as safe as any of us can be,"

"Are you alright coming with us, or would you rather we drop you off somewhere?" The woman asked, steering away from the hitching post.

"If I had somewhere to go, I'd be there instead of this horrible place," you said, looking around at the town for the last time. Even if the townsfolk got rid of the sheriff and his family, you never wanted to come back.

"Figured as much," the man hummed. "Well not to worry. You can stay with us and our little group of friends for now. It's not much, but we always manage to keep food stocked and keep each other safe and warm,"

"That sounds like heaven after everything," you let out a shaky chuckle.

"Well alright then," the woman said. "Let's get out of here,"

The two pushed the horses into a trot out of town, picking up a lazy lope once they were on the open road. You held the woman's waist for balance, watching the world go by.

Your head was spinning with everything that had happened. In the past few months you'd lost your family, hitchhiked from town to town, tried to find work but failed, started begging, tried stealing, got caught, and nearly hung. Now you were riding on the back of a beautiful gun-woman's horse toward some unknown group of people.

So many questions, so much swirling in your head. You knew you should say something, thank them again, ask where you were going, something. Anything.

The riders slowed their horses down to a quick walk, letting them take a breather after loping for some time. You opened your mouth willing something to come out.

"Who are you?" You finally asked, looking between them. Well it was something at least.

"Where are my manners," the woman chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at you. "My name is Bessie. Bessie Matthews. And this is my husband, Hosea,"

You gave them your name in return.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Hosea chirped, tipping his hat to you once again. "Though I wish the circumstances were less grim."

"You saved me from being hung. Seems like a positive to me," you giggled. The couple laughed.

"Yeah, I guess so," he replied.

"It's a bit of a ride still, but we should be there by sundown," Bessie said. "Do you need to stop for a minute or are you good to keep riding?"

"I'm fine," you assured her.

Bessie and Hosea picked up a light conversation, keeping cheerful and friendly. It was quite obvious how in love they were. Their conversation bounced off of each other so naturally, and the way Hosea looked at Bessie was like he was looking at an angel herself.

Without their bandanas you could get a better look at the couple. Both seemed to be in their early 40's, if that. Mature but not old. Bessie had an oval face with high, round cheeks. She was tan, likely from the lifestyle she led, and though most women wanted to be as pale as possible, you thought her tanned skin made her glow. Her hair only added to the effect, honey-colored locks shimmering in the sunlight.

Hosea had sharper features, a more rectangular face with a sharp, crooked nose and a stiff, square jawline. Narrow yet intelligent eyes seemed to disappear behind his cheeks as he squinted against the sun, despite the brim of his hat offering shade. His hair was the lightest blonde you'd ever seen on a grown man. A few streaks of silver were beginning to show on his head, but the rest of his locks were like buttermilk, such a pale yellow.

Both were incredibly good looking in your opinion. They could have very easily belonged in an upper-middle class society in Blackwater or San Francisco. Instead they seemed to have chosen a more rugged lifestyle, if the guns in their holsters and the supplies strapped to their saddles told you anything.

The two spurred their horses back into a lope, and you held on a little tighter to Bessie so you didn't fall off.

You watched the world as it passed by, enjoying the scenery you never thought you'd see again. The wind kissed your cheek as it wooshed over you, brushing your hair back.

Things you'd never paid much attention to were suddenly the most beautiful things in the world. You'd survived. You'd live to see another day. For the first time in a very long time, you felt a small spark of hope and happiness.

You couldn't suppress the light hearted giggles and the small whoops of joy that escaped your chest. It was such a surreal feeling. You closed your eyes and just let the feeling sweep you away

With your eyes closed you didn't see it, but Hosea and Bessie exchanged grins at your lighthearted laughter. They were glad to see you smiling and cheering, happy to know they had helped.

The rest of the ride you switched between taking in the beautiful scenery around you, and cheering to the heavens that you lived to see it all.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #Hosea Matthews/Bessie Matthews/Reader #female reader #ao3 fanfic #hosea matthews/reader #hosea matthews

[stargazer-sims]

out of all of your creative processes -- even things you don't consider part of-- what part is the most tedious? the one that makes you go 😫?

This is an interesting question, and I'm going to put the answer under a cut due to there being some potentially triggering things in it.

First off, I'm not sure any part of my creative process frustrates or upsets me that much, to be honest. All my writing related frustration is post-creation. Thinking it up and actually writing it is the "easy" part, and even when it isn't easy I still like it because I enjoy challenges and I enjoy seeing a finished product. I don't even mind editing, probably because I'm meticulous.

What frustrates me the most is that no matter how much I enjoy creating something, no matter how much effort I put into it, and no matter how much I love it in the moment, I will inevitably end up not liking it, whether that's five seconds after I release it into the wild or some longer period of time later. At the end of the day, I'm convinced everything I create isn't worthy of positive attention, and I don't even have to fall into the trap of comparing myself to others to feel that way; I just feel it's all objectively bad. Sometimes I even have this feeling of shame and embarrassment for liking it. I know a lot of this probably relates back to my mental illness and to past real-life psychological and emotional abuse and trauma and my resulting nonexistent self-confidence & self-esteem, and it's always going to be an issue no matter what I do.

I was raised in a very strict religious environment, which I would classify as a cult now that I've learned a thing or two about religious abuse. As a child and teen, I usually had to write in secret because I was told that not only were creative endeavours a pointless waste of time but that fiction writing was a sin and led to an "impure thought life". (This was supposedly one of the ways the devil would get you and corrupt you). It was also not okay to be proud of anything I'd done because pride is a sin too, of course. The fact that I felt like a rebel because I hid under a stairwell at school to write during lunch and that had a hiding spot for my notebooks at home says a lot, considering other kids were sneakily drinking and smoking and having intimate relations.

Lack of encouragement and positive feedback (that I don't have to figurately get down on my knees and beg for) also contributes, but I'm not going to sit here and blame random internet strangers for something that's essentially a "me" problem.

I think I'd have no frustrations at all with my creative process if I didn't ever share anything. I could just keep it all as my own little secret, and it'd be all good. I might not even get the associated shame, and I know this because I still love my most secret unreleased writings, even years later. But, for me, sharing is actually necessary. As anxiety-producing as it is each time I click the post button, and as paralyzing my guilt and shame can be sometimes, I feel like it's also important to put my work out there, as bad as it is. My stuff might be absolute cringe material, but it also represents a kind of victory and freedom, even if I can't always see it that way. I have to keep doing it in the hope that someday I'll actually believe that it's okay to create AND share AND allow myself to be proud of it.

I have no idea if that actually answered your question, but anyway... there you go.

#sapphire notes #sapphire answers

[dusterson]

rules & ooc (mobile)

this line it not to be edited as to maintain the integrity of the post’s URL. please inform the mun if any directories to this post do not work properly.

Mun is over the age of 21, muse is under the age of 18. Mature themes concerning violence, trauma, abuse, death, etc. will be present. Romance will not surpass mild PG-13.

THE RULE OF LAW

01 : DON’T BE A DICK.

godmoding metagaming etc. ain’t cool, ooc drama is even less cool, don’t reblog IC posts you’re not involved in, yadda yadda yadda, i’m crossing my fingers here that i won’t need to make an entire encyclopaedia of regulations here i have faith that you’re smarter and more mature than that.

i like anons throw em my way ic or ooc, but misuse the anon function and you lose the privilege of being a faceless horror-terror that gives Dustin nightmares.

i’m not going to say no drama because humans as a species are the biggest drama-mongers of the earthly organisms. but i will avoid engaging in it like the plague. i do not tolerate hateful and/or aggressive behaviour. i don’t care why, to who, or what about. calm. down. this is a fucking hobby.

02 : DON’T BE A PUSHY DICK.

the muse is not the mun, if my answer’s no then it’s no. if you pester/nag me after saying no, i’ll just block you. my post length will vary and no i don’t expect you to match or vise versa. i don’t really fancy up posts for rp replies that’s too much effort i’m here to write you know?

i am disabled physically, neurologically, and psychologically; that along with other IRL circumstances mean that i will be slow. i may need to take breaks from rping, not have the focus for this specific muse, and i might forget things. i don’t mind the occasional poke if you feel i’ve forgotten a thread or an ask etc, but please be patient with me.

do not get angry with me that i roleplay to my comfort. if i don’t meet your expectations i don’t want to hear it, just find another cove to sail.

03 : DON’T BE A GROSS DICK.

dustin is a minor in official canon and in my canon. i ain’t shipping him with anyone outside his age range, and i sure as fuck ain’t shipping right off the bat. i don’t know you, therefore i don’t trust you, to write that kinda dynamic with you. any romantic/affectionate content will be light PG-13 if not straight-up PG. if you try and sneak in suggestive or NSFW shit i will thanos snap your creative motivation. and block you.

i may unfollow blogs that have a highly frequent amount of such content on their blog.

DON’T LET ME BE A DICK!

any commonly triggering content will be tagged (example tw), such as gore, abuse, suicide, etc. but don’t be afraid or ashamed to request i tag something specific for you. i’m grouchy, not judgemental.

don’t hesitate to let me know if you’re losing interest in a thread, don’t know how to respond, or even that you’re no longer interested in rping. honestly if the third’s the case you don’t even need to explain, yeet to freedom my sweet bird good luck out there and for the love of god enjoy yourself and feel no shame for it.

THANK YOU FOR NOT BEING A DICK!

that’s why i’m saying the don’t part, cos i’m trusting you (kind of) not to be one, cos like you got this far so you can’t be one see? here’s some apple cider, thank you for coming on the tour, now let me introduce myself.

So now all THAT’s out of the way, ‘sup. You can call me Saahs or J. I’m a 28 year old artist, writer, and lover of horror. Any pronouns are fine with me. RP has been a major part of my life for 99.9% of it, I started playing AD&D before I could properly write, and I’m not letting this strain of hobby go any time soon. Like I said I probably won’t be a highly active rper due to chronic illness and IRL issues, but my messages, askbox, are always open! And I’m happy to give my Discord if you’d like to chat over there as well. The rules are a lil snippy I wrote em at 4 in the morning initially then it only got worse cos and I’m a jaded animal but legit I don’t assume You are gonna break rules or anything there’s just been too many times man. Like I’m a shy guy and I don’t like having to deal with conflict so don’t make me ok

#mobile rules #mobile ooc

[mochibuni]

There's two major things I want to talk about this month, my annual art resolutions for 2024 and my work goals for this year.

Art resolutions!

I don't feel like I really kept to any of my resolutions last year because it was a such a trash fire I was trying to just survive. That said, I did still try to push myself in areas I'm less skilled and comfortable in because ultimately I want to be a better artist-- I just also indulged myself a lot.

Truthfully I intend to keep indulging myself, at least for the beginning of the year. I'm still dealing with frozen shoulder, in both of my shoulders now, and I've been told to prepare for that to take up to a year or even longer to resolve itself. Mentally I'm also struggling, however I'm going to make some changes I'll explain in a minute that I hope will help a lot. So I'm going to keep drawing whatever I feel like drawing, and if that includes challenging myself, I'll do it. If it's just more people heads on horses, then that's what it's going to be.

So my resolution is to enjoy the process as much as possible, which means...

I've discussing my work goals and attitude towards them on my Patreon. Again all blog posts are free to read. I know I keep doing the HURHUR read more on Patreooonnn bit with all my posts and I hope you all forgive me for that and understand why, but I think with the nature of this particular post, I will be offering the rest of it under a cut here. So you don't have to go to Patreon to read the rest of it, just find it below.

Work Goals!

I feel like I failed all the goals I set for myself. I don't think my goals were unreasonable, but I think I'm being inflexible and unforgiving with myself. I thought viewing drawing as my job was the best way to give me purpose and structure since I can no longer work the traditional jobs I had, but one of the main reasons I burned out and lead to some of my disabilities is because I always threw myself into my work. Even when my work was poor according to my standards, it was still too much, because I felt that was my worth.

I haven't been able to transition out of that mindset, so no mater how much I tell myself it's okay to not meet my goals or to make smaller ones or just count the progress I do have-- I think focusing at all growth and progress is actually hurting me more than I had realized. Maybe one day I can think about freelancing and streaming as a job, and this isn't to say I won't continue to be professional about it in my commissions and conduct, but for now I need to go back to viewing art as a hobby where my primary concern is sharing joy with others.

I'm still going to take commissions, I'm still going to stream, I'm still going to sell my work, I'm still going to be prompt and communicative with clients, I'm just going to not stream if I feel poor and tell myself to not feel guilty about it. If I need to not draw for whatever reason, to just not draw, because I don't need to make content for the sake of growth and goals and whatever. Basically I'm going to try my best this year to focus on my health and what I need to do to get better. It's taken me three years since I've become seriously ill to decide it's okay to focus on me and not have overwhelming guilt and shame for it, so I'm going to take that energy and use it as best I can in 2024.

I'm not sure what that means for the future of my Patreon. I'll never choose to stop drawing, so I can't image not keeping up with the 2 to 4 content posts a month as planned. If anything I hope focusing on my health will encourage me to draw more, bring back more polls and feedback posts for you all. So I think things, for now, will largely remain unchanged, and let's just hope in the future I can do more.

What are your creative goals for 2024? Something specific or more general? Let's make some joy together this year!

#life with mochi #patreon

[xoteajays]

Oh! I did message you in instant messages. I can't always remember who I message someone. And I know that I send long messages that not everyone likes. So there's also that reason too.

Yeah. The High&Low franchise came out eight years ago. So you wish there was more people who still created content for the H&L fandom.

Which is bizarre to me? Because High&Low was a popular franchise when it came out, but now there seems to be nothing for the fandom. Especially because there are similarities between High&Low, Worst and Tokyo Revengers. Pretty boys who are delinquents. [I've only ever seen the Worst crossover movie with High&Low, not even the original series. So I can't comment much on Worst.]

Chimknj also wrote another High&Low story. Well.. There story would be a one shot, a one chapter story. Not that you have to read it. But it is a smutty story between Rocky and his girlfriend (original character) - during the events of the first movie.

And, I think, there is a person who's under the name FireOfJudgment on here. They have H&L stories, and AIB stories too. But I don't know what characters or ships they write for though. In case you may want to search their work. They might be an option for you.

It's best for me to write notes for ideas to stories, and characters, and who knows what else while being involved in the fandom. Because if I try writing when I'm not in any fandom, then my thoughts and ideas... I became fickle and scattered on what I want to write. It's a problem.

Being in a fandom makes me more focused to write for that fandom. If that makes any sense.

I mean.. The color coordination to my characters was accidental for me. Because I tend to go for a specific appearance for my characters, I was very adamant about using those people for my face claims but I wasn't sure for what fandom - and I probably will use them for a lot of other fandoms too. Most likely. But not sure which other fandoms yet though. Anyway. Anyway.. But one person's favorite color is blue, one is orange, and another is red which eventually became their signature colors. So I unconsciously connected them to their respective gangs, which is kinda funny because their personalities actually seem fitting for those gangs too. And since the High&Low cast of characters have been predominantly men, I wanted more female characters involved in the story. But there have been a few things I've been stick on lately.

i am just hella awful at answering my private messages. i’ll be like ‘ill reply to that in a bit’ and then completely forget.

it’s just weird. like fandoms used to stick around for longer and h&l is still relatively recent. like 2016 wasn’t even a decade ago yet! everybody go watch h&l and feel emotions you didn’t expect about a pretty boy gang show. the song ‘break into the dark’ literally got me F*cked Up, everybody go watch the unofficial music video.

i will absolutely go read a smutty fic, that’s half of what i’ve been reading lately anyway. love me an explicit fic. and rocky has grown on me, do really like that dude.

i used to be really good at writing short original stories, but now i find it a bit harder. need that high school inspired brain back. fanfics do come a bit easier for me, but i also second guess myself a lot and some stuff i don’t end up posting or even finishing. which is a shame bc it’s supposed to be a fun hobby. i definitely need a fandom to obsess over or i just go totally blank in the brain.

im so bad at colour coordinating my ocs, i can rarely ever decide on what colour suits them best. idk if anyone’s noticed how many light blue or pink characters i have ahsjdl. my own h&l oc kinda started as an oya oc and then developed into something more and got switched around a bit, i think i’m mostly happy with where she’s at rn tho. im having a lot of fun with her.

h&l is definitely lacking in the female character department. like even the strawberry milk girls don’t get a whole lot of screen time like i thought they would, which is a shame bc i think they’re cool and i love pink. i think naomi got the most screen time out of all the girls and even that wasnt a whole lot. n-e-way yamato’s mum and the bartender lady are, like, definitely gfs tho, that’s my hc.

#tj answers #writers bc like ‘its not gay!’ and then have no women in sight #there is no bechdel test passing here #long post // #long post anon

[stormy333]

Chapter 20...

Hello, my darlings and welcome back to Stormy Ville!

As you can probably tell by the title, we are about to enter a brand new chapter of my life haha, Okay this is terrifying. I’ve had so many changes going on in my life at the moment and before this moment, but this post is going to be very similar to my seventeenth and eighteenth birthday post, AYE shout out to my bestie it’s been two years on the 11th since we met! Happy Friendiversary if you read this but also you know I’m going to blow up your phone! Any who let’s get into this, first we’re going to start with twenty things I don’t want to carry with me into my next chapter/decade/sub-genre of my life.

Guilt

Body shame

Self-hatred

Pain

Her

Him

Shame

Self-pity

Judgement

Cruel words

The fear of loving

Lies

Fear

Toxic Positivity

Denial

Self-Sabotage

The fear that I’m not enough.

Being too prideful to take the first steps to mend a fence.

The feeling of being a burden because of my illnesses.

The idea that everyone has to like me, or I’ll die.

Now a letter to myself before the goals and plans.

May this darling angel find her way back home. May she rest for her battle was great and her faith stayed strong. But one last thing I have to say to her… My love, you still live within me. This isn’t goodbye, this is just see you later. See you when you reform. When you finish your complete evolution or when this version of me is no longer and I join you there in the bed of roses.

Is it peaceful there? I’m grateful to you. I wish you the best, my love. I pray you’re at peace. I’m learning to be who you need the most. I’m learning that forgiveness isn’t just words. Letting go isn’t as easy as everyone acts, and that just because my path is different and “wrong” to them? It doesn’t mean it is. And most importantly… I’m learning to forgive you. For what you didn’t and couldn’t know. With that comes forgiving my current self for not knowing. For not reacting the way we would now. Can you forgive me… for not loving you until it was too late?

We built these walls up together and at some point, we built one between ourselves. Baby girl, I hear your screams as much as you hear mine. We’ve been taking the wall down piece by piece and trying so hard to heal each other but the closer we get the harder it becomes. I want that part of me back, I want you back. I know we can never be the same, but we can flourish together into a perfectly imperfect jewel that is one of a kind… irreplaceable.

Something I’ve learned during our time apart is that we can’t turn the clock back. It’s something so basic but such a difficult lesson. We can’t go back to the days when it was just us kids with gram and grandpa. We can’t erase the things we’ve done. The things we’ve said. The things we went through… they won’t go away. They made us who we are. Honestly, I’m not sure what one was the catalyst for separating us, maybe if I knew it’d do more damage. But I know the moment it all changed. The moment we started to heal. Maybe not the date because it was a blur, but I know the moment and the feelings, and I remember how much we needed each other because at that moment there was no one. Surrounded by people, we were completely isolated. It was life or death for us to pull together for five minutes to try and think.

We did it, our hands touched for the first time in years, and it created a domino effect. That’s when our worlds began to truly heal. We still stand on separate sides of this wall… kept from each other. But at least we have one block gone. Every lesson we learn is another brick down or another link in the chain weakened. Bringing us closer to reuniting and being one again. It won’t change just because we enter a new era. If anything, it’ll get more focus. You will get more focus. Because I love you. And I don’t say that enough.

Signed Hailstorm (You but older and with more knowledge of what you were going through)

Plans and Goals of Chapter 20/ New Era

Go camping!

Finish getting my car situated and get comfortable driving it.

Continue working with Rocky.

Spend plenty of time with my boyfriend (duh).

Set up and organize my room in a super aesthetically pleasing way.

Write (A LOT)

Focus on my mental and physical health.

Learn to balance my health and life better.

Spend more time with family and friends (Shout out to my Gal and her family!)

Get a better sleeping schedule.

Try one new thing every month. (Food, activity, etc..)

Finish watching the Star Wars movies.

Finish listening to the Harry Potter Audio books.

Read 11 books.

Go to West Virginia for Christmas.

Build a Blanket fort.

Go fishing.

Watch the sunset with someone important to me.

Get a Quarter of my book finished.

Never stop learning… especially about myself.

Well, my darlings if you’ve made it this far I hope you enjoyed this post. Happy Birthday if we’re birthday twins or if your birthday is coming up. May all your hopes and dreams come true!

Until next time,

Hailstorm Marie

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

champagne problems (part 1)

here's my first part of my modern no magic "champagne problems" singer-songwriter quarantine thomastair AU! happy birthday to @foxglove-airmid even though I don't think it's your birthday where you live anymore (and I still haven't posted zia's birthday fic, it'll happen I swear)!

no content warnings for this part (besides maybe quarantine), but future parts will include discussions of mental illness, substance abuse, and a suicide attempt

obviously, the song alastair "wrote" in the fic is not mine, it's by taylor swift! and a few of the lyrics have been changed!

Masterlist | AO3

Thomas breathed out a sigh of relief as he lugged his suitcase up onto the fifth floor landing.

“‘Ere we are,” Piers announced as he unlocked the door.

Thomas was utterly exhausted, such was the result of taking a redeye flight across the Atlantic during a global pandemic, but any idea of rest that he’d had was interrupted when he heard the sound of piano flood the apartment.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Piers nodded, “One of my flatmates, the walls are paper thin. He can’t record at the studio right now, but he’s trying to finish his EP, so it’s been a bit noisier around here. He’ll take a break soon, hopefully.”

Thomas shook his head. “It’s no problem. Thank you, again, for allowing me to stay here. I’ll be looking for my own place as soon as the quarantine is up.”

“Of course. You’ve got the couch as long as you need it. Couldn’t just hang you out to dry, could I? Although, you did pick a god awful time to move to the city, if I do say so myself.”

Thomas sat down on the couch and tried to make himself comfortable. It was more comfortable than the flight or the airport, at least. “I know… I considered postponing the move, but the visa was so difficult to get, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They say this will all blow over in a couple of weeks, but borders are closing and I heard talk of them suspending all pending visa applications. I didn't know how long it would be if I waited, if the job was even still here for me at all.” Although at first entrance, the music had seemed to be a nuisance, it now comforted him. It wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it quite reminded him of the days Alastair’s playing had filled their flat…

“Where did you say you were working again? At a record company?”

“Yeah. I’m just doing pretty basic stuff for now, but if I ever do want to record my own music, I’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Hm,” Piers said, gesturing to the room the music was coming from. “Perhaps you’ll get on with him well, then. Would you like some tea?”

Thomas nodded and Piers went to start the teapot. Piers continued, “Though I suppose he's more of the tortured artist type. Very reserved, quite prickly. I didn't even meet him until a couple weeks after I moved in here because he was off in some psychiatric hospital.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one for gossip. “My other roommate’s nice, though, I think you’ll like him. He-”

“How did you end up in New York, again? I don’t think I ever asked.”

Piers dove into the subject change quite readily, explaining his uni - or college - years in New York City and his decision to stay afterwards. Thomas had tuned most of it out, truthfully. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but he was rather exhausted, and Piers was wearing thin on his patience.

As the kettle started to whine, Thomas heard the musician begin to sing, and he froze. It sounded so much like Alastair. But it couldn't be, could it? With over 8 million people living in the city, he would not end up in Alastair's apartment by accident. His Alastair was certainly reserved and prickly, but it wasn't possible. It must be like all those times he thought he saw him on a street he'd never walked or heard his laugh in a café he'd never been to. Just his mind, tricking him. Even if he knew that voice so well, despite not hearing it in so long.

“It’s quite good, isn’t it? His first single just dropped.” Piers asked, bringing over his cup of tea. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been staring intently at the door.

Thomas took the cup. “Hm? Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

“You should look it up. It’s called “champagne problems” by Simurgh. That’s spelled- Well, it should come up.”

The name Simurgh sounded familiar, but Thomas couldn’t put his finger on where he knew it from. At Piers’ insistence, he pulled out his phone and brought up the song. As he skimmed through the first few lines, a cold feeling settled in his stomach.

“You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse”

“Simurgh,” Thomas realized.

“Yeah, I think it’s Arabic or something.”

It took Thomas a moment to process that Piers was responding to him. “It’s Persian.” He was certain that Alastair would have some very stern words to say if he heard Piers confusing the two, actually. Thomas had admittedly let his Farsi skills deteriorate quite a bit since the breakup, but he was fairly certain the name came from the Shahnameh. There was no doubt in Thomas’ mind now: he was staying in Alastair’s apartment, and Alastair’s first single was about one of the most painful days in Thomas’ life. “I, er, I used to study it.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right!” Piers launched into a tangent that Thomas tuned out as he read through the rest of the page.

“Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems”

“Thomas? Are you alright?”

He realized then that his hand was trembling so badly that his tea nearly spilled. He used his other hand to steady it. “Oh, uh, yes, I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps you should rest. I can ask Alastair to quiet down for a while-”

“No!” he exclaimed rather too forcefully. “No, that’s not necessary. I’d just rather not talk, if that’s alright.”

Piers nodded.

Thomas kept reading.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems”

Of all the songs, why did he release the one about him? Why was it about a memory still so painful in Thomas’ heart, all of these years later? He remembered it so well, standing there, alone, shattered into a million pieces.

“You told your family for a reason You couldn't keep it in Your sister splashed out on the bottle Now no one's celebrating”

He was fairly certain that Barbara had been more excited than even he was, confident that Alastair would accept, and so very proud of her baby brother, all grown up. She’d been furious when it fell apart, but it was her who stood with him during the aftermath, who boarded him onto a train to Edinburgh to visit Eugenia when he couldn’t stand to be in the same city as him any longer, who went through his phone, blocking all of Alastair’s accounts so that he could obsess over him no longer, who comforted him as he wept and held him as he picked the pieces of himself back up again.

And all the more sour was the memory in light of her death.

“Dom Pérignon, you brought it No crowd of friends applauded Your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems”

He looked up at Piers, who had fortunately become enthralled with something on his phone and was no longer paying Thomas any mind. He lifted the teacup gingerly to his lips, but he felt far too sick to take a drink.

“You had a speech, you're speechless Love slipped beyond your reaches And I couldn't give a reason Champagne problems”

A reason, that’s all Thomas had wanted. Just any explanation. He understood if they were moving too fast, or perhaps he’d misread something, but he just didn’t understand it.

Why? Why can’t you tell me why? I deserve an explanation, Alastair. Please, anything.

I… I’m sorry, Thomas.

Stop it! Stop apologizing! We can just go home and pretend this never happened, please, forget about all of it, it was a stupid idea-

Thomas, stop. I shouldn’t’ve… This was a mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.

That was the moment Thomas felt his heart stop beating.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door November flush and your flannel cure "This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me" How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through”

Despite the nearly two decades Thomas had spent in London before Alastair, it was never the same without him. He saw him everywhere he went, despite knowing he was thousands of miles away. After graduating uni that May, he accepted a spot at a graduate program in Spain and didn’t look back.

“One for the money, two for the show I never was ready so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you "You’re the only one I want by my side, What a shame you’re fucked in the head," you said”

Those were the words that haunted Thomas’ nightmares, even now.

It’s you! It’s only you for me! It was always going to be you! But I can see now that I was never going to be enough for you, you and your secrets and walls and your lies. It’s a shame… it’s a shame you’re so fucked in the head, Alastair. You’ll never truly love anyone, will you? You’re not physically capable of it.

Alastair hadn’t responded. Thomas had wanted a rise out of him, any reaction at all, despite knowing how lethal and volatile Alastair could become when provoked. But there was nothing. Not a flicker of anything in his steeled expression. He’d simply looked down, apologized again for any pain that he’d caused, and left.

That was the last time they’d spoken.

Thomas and his sister left for Edinburgh that night, and when he’d returned to London, Alastair was gone.

“Well, you'll find the real thing instead Who'll patch up your tapestry that I shred And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems”

Thomas couldn’t imagine giving his heart to anyone again, not now and certainly not then. He’d dated in Madrid, but it had always stayed casual. He’d made sure of it. He could see now that he and Alastair had gotten together quickly, moved in together quickly, done all of it very quickly. After all, he’d fallen hard and fast. He gave all of himself to Alastair, and he’d nearly lost all of himself in the process.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket New picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems

“You won't remember all my Champagne problems”

Now, he wondered what the rest of the story was. He’d convinced himself that Alastair had never loved him, that he was heartless and cruel, though he’d known that wasn’t true. Could Alastair have written this song if he’d never truly loved him? Perhaps he was a sociopath.

Thomas felt like he should run. Like he should pick up his bag and dart out of the apartment before Alastair could notice him, find some hotel somewhere with undoubtedly extraordinary high rates and just pretend like this never happened. He could get back on a plane and go back home to his parents and delete his phone browser history and pretend like this was all just a bad dream. But he could not move.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed before Alastair’s door opened. He looked up with a start.

“Thomas,” Alastair breathed. He stood wide eyed, flushed.

“Do you two already know each other then?” Piers asked.

There was a moment of silence before Thomas cleared his throat. “We used to,” he said, looking down.

“I, er, I forgot that your friend was coming today,” Alastair told Piers. “It’s quite a long journey from London, you should have told me, I would have been quieter.”

Thomas considered correcting him for a moment, but decided not to. “Don’t worry about it. I heard you had your first big release. Congratulations.”

Alastair gave an awkward nod. “Thank you. Right, well, I’ll just…” He rushed over to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’ll try to be a bit quieter.”

“Don’t- It’s fine, really. In fact, I’m sure there’s some hotel in the area I can stay at for now, actually-”

“Well, don’t leave on my account,” Alastair interrupted. “We agreed to let you stay here, and the city’s a bloody mess right now. I’ll stay out of your hair, Thomas.”

Thomas only nodded as Alastair disappeared back behind his bedroom door.

Thanks for reading! Taglist (ask to be +/-): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @itsjusta-j-really

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomastair #tlh #the last hours #fanfic #fanfiction #champagne problems au

[cabensonsgirly]

👼Home Is Wherever I'm With You (Alice Macray)[NSFW]👼

Alice Macray x Fem!reader

👼Part 2 of SP getting reader pregnant👼

👼Wordcount: 2714👼

👼Posted on AO3: Read Here👼

👼Content: Fluff, some angst, homophobia, Phyllis and Alice's husband are trash garbage, some smut, strap-on, wlw magic, pregnancy, Alice is an angel, mentions of religion.👼

👼There was one person who never left your side though, even if it meant they were put in the firing path of Phyllis, and that was Alice. She, in all her sweet innocence, didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you happened to like women, surely if God didn’t want the “lovely lgbts” then he wouldn’t have created them. Alice was religious, went to church on Sundays, said grace before eating, prayed before bed, but she wasn’t the type to go around telling people that they were sinning or judge them because they weren’t religious, if anything, she just wanted people to be happy.👼

It had been a number of years since you had moved to a slightly more progressive part of town, ever since Phyllis found out that you had – as she put it – “homosexual inclinations” it was made very clearly that you were no longer welcome in that area. And because she ruled with an iron-fist, no one dared to speak out against her, even if they had said to you in private that you were still the same wonderful person they had always known.

There was one person who never left your side though, even if it meant they were put in the firing path of Phyllis, and that was Alice. She, in all her sweet innocence, didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you happened to like women, surely if God didn’t want the “lovely lgbts” then he wouldn’t have created them. Alice was religious, went to church on Sundays, said grace before eating, prayed before bed, but she wasn’t the type to go around telling people that they were sinning or judge them because they weren’t religious, if anything, she just wanted people to be happy.

It had hurt when you moved because you had grown close with Alice and her kids, even if her husband harboured ill feelings towards you because you were a “dyke” and “we can’t let our children around that dyke, Alice” but she managed to calm him down enough so that you could still come around. But you hadn’t seen Alice and the kids much since moving, and you missed them something wicked. Yes you had spoken to them, mainly Alice, on the phone but it was brief and happened very rarely. You missed her. You missed them.

The days where she called you had you wanting them to last forever, you could wander around your home just listening to her talk about how things were going, how much she enjoyed her job, how the kids were doing in school. You found yourself feeling like a high schooler talking to their crush after school on the phone, laying down on your bed with the dumbest grin on your face. However, that grin changed to a shocked expression when you let slip how you feel about her. “Alice, fuck – sorry I know you don’t like swearing but… Alice, I love you so much and I miss you, I miss being around you and being with the kids. It’s been miserable not being able to see you, but-“ you hear a sharp intake of breath “I- I’m sorry, I have to go.” Before the line goes dead.

Seven months, twelve days, thirteen hours, and fifteen minutes it had been since that call and you hadn’t heard from her. You weren’t usually the type to count these things, even when you had important events to look forward to, you wouldn’t count down the days. You guess it was some form of way to torture yourself, counting the length of time since you fucked up one of the few good things you still had in life. She was radiant like an angel, put the beauty of the moon to shame, and you- you were like a horseman of the apocalypse, ruining everything you touched. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, you haven’t ruined everything you touch but you certainly have relationship wise.

You had a few spare rooms in your house, you’d hoped that one day you would be able to have your own family, a bedroom for each kid: two bedrooms and one room as the nursery. No, that was a lie, you had dreamed about having Alice live with you - be with you – the boys would have their own rooms to decorate how they please (under the watchful eye of Alice) and… a nursery so you and Alice could have a child together, so that the boys would have a little sister (hopefully) to protect from the big kids.

To be honest, you had already started making renovations on the house so that it would be better suited for a family like that anyway, the bedrooms had a fresh coat of paint, nothing that was specifically catered to boys or girls – you wanted the kids to pick the colour themselves if they wanted a change – and made sure the windows had latches to prevent them from opening too far so that no one could fall out of them.

You were most proud of the kitchen though; it was your pride and joy of the entire property. That’s where you currently find yourself, applying the final sealing coat on the marble countertop so that no liquid seeps into the pores of the material. You had music playing through the radio, just loud enough to drown out the sound of the odd car that drove by. You were humming along to this when you heard the doorbell ring, this surprised you because not many people stopped round to your place, and if they did they would usually knock. You put the paintbrush in the sink and put the lid back onto the tin of sealant before you made your way over to the door. You didn’t bother to check your appearance or anything because you thought it was probably some girl scouts or a random, so in all your messy renovation glory you swung the door open to greet whoever was on the other side.

“Hi there, what can I-“ Your voice catches in your throat and colour rushes to your cheeks as you lay eyes on the woman before you. Now you were wishing you had at least wiped the sweat from your face and the grime from your hands.

“Hi… I- I know we- I know I haven’t spoken to you since…well…” She trails off quietly, looking down. You bite your bottom lip slightly and shake your head, willing the tears to remain unshed “It’s- It’s fine Alice, really. It’s in the past… You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s fine.” The older woman shakes her head and looks at you again, her eyes glistening slightly “I want to. Can- can I come in, please?”

You step back and hold the door open so she can make her way inside, closing and locking the door behind her before leading her to the lounge. “I- I wanted to apologise for hanging up the way I did…and for leaving your life without saying anything.” She takes a seat in an arm chair, hands immediately starting to fiddle with the cushion “I just- I didn’t- I don’t”

“You don’t feel the same way. I- I know. It’s okay. I- I got over most of the hurt-“

“No- no that’s not what I meant. I didn’t understand why you felt that way and- and I didn’t understand why I- why I” she shakes her head, her grip on the cushion tightening before she blurts out “why I felt something I hadn’t felt since the joy I felt when I had my boys.” She lets out a sob and buries her face in her hands as she starts crying.

You rush over to her and wrap your arms around her gently, rubbing her back as you hush her gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Shhh… It’s okay, Alice” She moves so she can hug you tight, burying her face in your shirt as she continues crying. “hey, hey it’s okay. It’ll be okay. Shhh.. It’s okay, Alice.” You continue rubbing her back, only slowing down more as her breathing starts to return to normal. “There we go, there we go. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

She doesn’t pull back but you hear her mumble out “my- my husband- ex… he- he found me crying after the call and he asked why. I- I told him that it- it was because I think I- I was in…love with someone else. A- A woman… And- and he” she lets out a sob before continuing “he told me how- how disgusting I- I am. That- that I was going to- to ruin my- my kids. We- He filed for divorce a few weeks later… It’s- it’s supposed to be split custody but- but I guess the boys like me more so- so they stay with me a majority of the time. They asked why I was so sad, why I didn’t bake apple pie as much anymore, why I- why I never called you. I didn’t answer them for so long, just- just said it was some- some trial that God was putting me through. But… a few days ago they asked again, and- and the looks in their eyes…” she lets out a bit of a laugh “they looked like they wouldn’t judge me no matter what I said, they- they really are my boys. So…I told them.”

Your breath catches and you still your movements before continuing, encouraging Alice to continue. “I told them everything. Well- well excluding what their father said about- about me. I just- I said that their father didn’t- didn’t approve of- of who I had…fallen in love with. They- they were confused and asked how it was possible for someone to- to fall in love when already married. I said sometimes- sometimes it happens and that it- it doesn’t mean I never loved their father, but I had discovered that- that maybe I…liked women. A woman. Gosh… You should’ve seen the looks on their face, it was like I’d given them their birthday presents early. I hadn’t even told them who but… they’re so wonderful.”

She pulls back and wipes her eyes on her sleeve, giving you a small smile “I told them that the woman I was- I am in love with is you. That- that I hadn’t known what to do so that’s why I was sad for so long because I just… Anyway… They said I was silly and should go tell you everything because they miss you and want to see me happy again.”

You blush deeply and look away, a shy smile settling on your lips before Alice gently turns your head to face her. “I- I love you, yn.” She leans in and tentatively brushes her lips against yours before kissing you, you gasp softly in shock before melting into the kiss.

One year, three months, two weeks, three days, and nine hours. That’s how long Alice and her boys – your boys – have been living with you for. After she kissed you that day, she asked if she could make love to you but emphasised that you would have to guide her because she’d never been with another woman. Alice was a quick learner and once she had a solid understanding of what you enjoyed…she made it very clear that she was the one in charge in the bedroom. This surprised you but you weren’t going to complain, if the love of your life wanted to be called “Miss” in the bedroom and boss you around, you bet your fucking ass you’re going to do just that. Although she did burst into tears after you went down on her because she didn’t know something like that was supposed to feel that good.

She asked you why there was an empty room one day while the boys were at tutoring, and you told her it was because you hoped to have a baby one day… Hopefully with her. She was shocked and had blushed profusely but the smile on her face reassured you she wasn’t put off by the idea. You said you knew it wouldn’t actually be possible for her to get you pregnant but you saw a fierce determination in her eyes that made you feel like she would find a way. Alice didn’t bring it up again for quite some time, and you didn’t press about it either, just put it down to her having forgotten or maybe not actually being into the idea.

One evening while the boys were at their fathers Alice said she had something to show you, said it was really important. When you walked into the bedroom you nearly choked on your bottled water, Alice was standing there, looking down as she adjusted - what appeared to be a strap-on – to fit her comfortably. She still had her simple white bra on but to you she still looked sexy, with or without clothing you were attracted to her; the look of utter concentration on her face made you giggle though, drawing her attention to you, a blush settling on her face as she smiles.

“I- Hi. I- So I did some… I did things to try and- and figure out if there was a way I could get you…pregnant… And- well, I know you don’t always come to church but- No I didn’t ask around church, silly. Every time I prayed, I asked for there to be a time where it would be possible for me to get you pregnant, so- so I could have a baby with the woman I love. And- and so it turns out that tonight is that night. I saw a sign, and I know that sounds cra-“ You cut her off with a deep and slow kiss, hands cupping her cheeks gently before you pull back “Alice, baby, nothing you say sounds crazy to me.”

She blushes more and flusters a bit before continuing “I saw a sign, well- well what I hope was one and knew that it would be possible tonight. That- that it would be possible for me to- to” she tears up, some tears spilling onto her cheeks which you wipe away gently “to get you pregnant so we can have our baby.” You sniffle a little, having teared up at her words “Alice… You’re so- you’re so wonderful. Please take me to bed, make- make love to me.”

Alice takes your hand in hers gently and leads you to your shared bed where she lays you down gently on it before crawling on top of you, her hand stroking your cheek gently. “I love you so much, yn.”

“I love you too, Alice.”

You looked up at the woman you loved, her hand ghosting gently between your legs and roaming over your body before she starts to remove your clothing, kissing your skin as each item is removed. She trails kisses up your thighs before moving up to kiss you, her lips were still sweet from the dessert she had made, her tongue slips between her lips and runs against your bottom lip before you part them to brush your tongue over hers, you both moaning at the feeling. A gasp falls from your lips when you feel her touch your slit, fingers rubbing your clit lightly before dipping the tips of two into your pussy.

“You make the most beautiful noises, my love.”

There had never been a moment before now where you had felt so much love when having sex with someone. It wasn’t only because your girlfriend had managed to find a way to try having a baby with you – having her baby, it was because there wasn't a single moment the entire night where the love in her eyes disappeared.

You wouldn’t know if Alice’s prayers had been heard until you took a pregnancy tests a few days later, but there was a feeling in your bones that made you think that things would work out – that you would have her baby. On the off chance, or more likely chance, that you didn’t get pregnant, that would be okay too. Your sweet Alice would probably try her best to find another way though, she was determined like that.

You and Alice both shared a nice bubble bath after your lovemaking, just enjoying being in each other’s arms. “Alice baby, I love you so much. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for coming back to me. Just- just thank you.” She hums softly in response, her eyes drifting closed “I love you too, Yn. I’d always find my way back to you anyway.” You press a kiss to her head, enjoying the feeling of being content and happy with a woman you love, and with the chance of being pregnant with her child.

#Alice macray #Alice macray imagine #Alice macray x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson x reader

[tiffdawg]

Curriculum Vitae: Chapter Fifteen

Gif: @bestintheparsec​

curriculum vitae noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one’s life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 7.0k

Rated: E  | Warnings: NSFW – explicit sexual content, sex, public sex, oral sex (female receiving), cumplay, dirty talk. Mentions of alcohol. Mild language. 18+ only.

Chapter Summary: In this chapter, you and Javier attend the holiday party for the social sciences’ faculty.

A/N: I really risked it all for y’all just to login and post this. I still haven’t seen the finale so I’m going to drop this and run but I’d love to know what you think. I hope this chapter makes the extra-long wait worth it.

Read on AO3

CV Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Fifteen

Unsurprisingly, things were tense the next morning

Javier was up before you but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Although considering it was a quarter past seven you wondered how much sleep the man could’ve gotten. What was surprising was that you woke alone.

Then you ate breakfast together in silence. Moved about your 400 square foot studio in silence. Worked across the dining table grading papers in silence.

Javier was never an overly talkative person but that was unlike him. It was unlike the two of you. You knew there were things from his past that troubled him. Things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The longer you’d known him, the more time you spent together, the more you felt his sadness. But he seemed determined to hide it from you.

However, you couldn’t dwell on it. Not until you’d finished grading exams and assigned final grades and could put the fall quarter behind you. With a Monday deadline, work came first.

Eventually, Javier finished his grading. He gathered his things to go home and dress for the faculty party that evening, leaving you with just a kiss on your cheek and a promise to pick you up at six. You hummed noncommittally as you watched him leave.

Sunny whined at the closed door before looking over her shoulder at you with a silent question in her wide brown eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong either,” you answered with a shrug. She laid down where she was, head on her paws and a rather sad expression of her face.

… . …

By some miracle, you were able to focus long enough to finish your grading with enough time to spare to get ready for a night out. At 5:58 you walked out of your building into the dark evening and found Javier waiting for you at the bottom of the stoop. It was a chilly night and you pulled your wool coat tighter around you as you closed the last bit of distance between the two of you. For the first time that day, as he held his hand out to you, he smiled. It was nothing more than a slight pull at the corner of his lips, but it was something.

You took his hand and let him lead you toward his car. When he reached into his coat pocket, presumably in search of his keys, he pulled out a half-finished pack of Nicorette. He tossed it in a nearby trash can.

“Why did you do that?” you asked without thinking.

He shrugged as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. “I don’t need it.”

You made no move to get in. “I thought you were trying to quit.”

“I… I did.”

“Really?” you asked, not bothering to hide your excitement.

“I haven’t needed it for a couple of weeks now actually.”

 “Javi, that’s amazing,” you smiled as you brought him to you for a kiss by the lapels of his coat. “I’m so proud of you.”

 He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re proud of me?”

 “Yeah,” you said easily. He still didn’t seem to believe you. You continued tentatively, afraid you might say the wrong thing but needing to say something all the same. “Sometimes I just– I feel like I don’t actually know that much about you. Or, I should say, about your past. And I don’t need to know anything more than what you want to tell me,” you added quickly. “But I see you. I see you trying to be a better man. Everyday.” Your hands moved on their own accord to cup his freshly shaved cheeks. “I’m proud of you. Even if you think it’s silly.”

“I–” Javier opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t manage more than that single syllable.

Instead, he stared at you. You might’ve crossed some unspoken line, but you didn’t care. You’d meant everything that you said. His eyes shifted away as he stared at something past you for a drawn-out moment. “Come here,” he finally managed, and he pulled you into his embrace. The two of you held each other in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the few people out and about walk around you. “You’re too good for me, compañera.”

“I know,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. His fingers dug into your sides and you laughed. “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?”

He sighed heavily. “I’d rather have one good night with you before I leave. I’m not going to see you for more than two weeks.”

Deciding not to question it, you put it out of your mind. Maybe what happened was a one off. Still, you pulled back and scowled at him. “Then stop being such a….”

“An asshole?”

“Exactly.”

He huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes but nodded his agreement. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You gonna make it up to me?”

 “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got plans for you tonight.”

A chill shot down your spine at the insinuation. “Good,” you smirked, “so do I.”

… . …

The country club was only a short drive past the university and up into the hills amongst rows of gated mansions. Slipping out of the car before the valet approached, you darted in ahead of Javier. The bubble that the two of you were living in still didn’t extend to work, not entirely. Not beyond fucking in your offices and occasionally brushing hands under the table at faculty meetings.

Inside, the already gilded ballroom was draped in silver and gold holiday decorations from ceiling to floor. Every inch sparkled and shone in the chandelier light. Your colleagues from across the school of social sciences crowed the hall, all dressed to the nines with glasses of champagne and hors-d’œuvre topped with caviar in their hands.

You politely made your rounds before you found yourself conversing with Debra by the bar as you waited for a cocktail. She was her usual gossipy self, going on and on about the latest office drama. That was when you first spotted Javier amongst the crowd.

He wore a well-fitted black suit – one that was significantly more flattering than some of his older ones and you idly wondered if it was new – with a white shirt, forgoing a tie so that his tanned chest was still exposed, even on a winter night. His dark hair was styled just enough to keep it off his face. Even from across the room, you could see the glimmer in his warm brown eyes as he chatted away with someone. You were surprised when he walked right up to Rafael Garcia, one of the younger professors from the political science department. You watched as they shook hands and he was introduced to his wife, noting the genuine smile on his face.

“We just started seeing each other a couple of weeks ago but it’s going well so far. I really like him.” Deb’s voice brought you back to the present.

“That’s nice,” you replied absentmindedly.

“What about you, doc?”

“What? Oh, no. I don’t have time for something like that.” You waved her off, but your eyes still followed Javier across the room. You tried to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach.

“That’s a shame.” Debra looked out at the crowd and sighed. “He never flirts with me. Not anymore, at least.”

“Your new boyfriend?”

“No,” she laughed and smacked your shoulder playfully. “Javier,” she answered, lowering her voice.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Although you hoped it wasn’t that obvious who you’d been looking at. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. And don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Sure, but Javier was always fun to flirt with. It certainly made work more interesting. You know,” she took a sip of her martini, “the two of you seem awfully friendly lately. I thought you hated him.”

“I do,” you answered quickly.

“Well, don’t let Dr. Campbell hear you speak ill about his favorite lecturer.” She raised her brows over her class as the department chair approached the two of you. You stifled a sigh.

… . …

Javier sipped at his drink as he listened to Sofia Garcia regal him with the story of how she met her husband. He’d hardly spoken to the man before than night, but after five minutes with his loquacious wife, he felt like he knew his whole life story.

“I played on the Mexican women’s national team for a few years after college until I injured my knee. But it was a blessing. I was offered a coaching position here a week later and by the end of my first season we were engaged.” She held up her left hand where a modest diamond sat on her ring finger. “That was nearly fifteen years ago. Now he’s the only one who plays soccer.”

“Yeah,” Rafael scoffed, “I play in an adult league with my cousin and some old college friends. That hardly counts. She’s the real athlete.” He looked fondly on his wife who beamed back at him. Even Javier had to admit they made a handsome couple. And it had nothing to do with his expensive looking suit or her champagne dress. It was something about the way they looked at each other. they were easily better conversationalists than most of the people in that room. You weren’t kidding when you said academics only knew how to talk about journal articles and research funding. “You ever play, Peña? We’re actually looking for one more.”

Javier shook his head. “I played when I was a kid but that was a long fucking time ago.”

“Don’t worry, man, it’s not that serious. We drink the whole game. All you gotta do is pay for the keg when it’s your turn.”

Javier laughed, surprised by his answer. “I could get on board with that.”

The conversation moved on, but Javier was only half aware of whatever question he was being asked. Just over Rafael’s shoulder, he caught sight of you. With a red dress with thin straps draped across your form that left everything and nothing to the imagination, you looked… alluring.

“Hey, uh, you look like you could use a refill,” Rafael commented, pointing toward the bar where you were standing.

“Yeah,” Javier nodded, “I’ll catch you later. Nice meeting you, Sofia.”

“I hope to see you around, Javier.” She smiled kindly at him, but Javier was already on the move, swiftly cutting through the crowd as he contemplated the ways that he could get you alone.

“Whiskey. Dry,” he ordered, leaning against the bar next to you.

“How are you enjoying the evening, Professor Peña?” Debra simpered.

“Much better now that I’m talking to you lovely ladies,” he answered without missing a beat.

On cue, Debra’s whole face flushed bright red.

“I’ll have you know I’m spoken for now. Your charm won’t work on me anymore.”

“That’s too bad.” His eyes slid to you. And then up and down your body. “What about you, sweetheart?” He offered you the perfect set up on a silver platter. And you took it.

“Not in your wildest dreams, Peña,” you shot back. His lips quirked as he repressed a smile.

“Don’t you two ever get tired of antagonizing each other?” Debra scoffed before traipsing off. He was hoping that would work.

The bartender placed Javier’s drink on the counter and then he turned back to you, still admiring your dress. Now that he was near you, he noticed the fabric was a soft red velvet he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on.

“You looked like you were enjoying your conversation with Rafael.”

“He does some interesting work on South American politics,” he offered distractedly, his eyes snapped back up to yours. “I probably shouldn’t ask you to dance.”

You reeled back a little, as if the question surprised you. “Probably not. That might ruin the whole facade of me hating you.” He made a sour face as he looked at his glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid a few times. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the dancing type, Javi.”

He grinned. “I love dancing.”

“You never take me dancing.”

“Fucking shame. I’m gonna start.” You beamed at him, uncaring, just for a moment, who saw. It was a smile nothing short of dazzling. He took a step closer. “You look stunning.”

“You drove me here.”

“I thought you were stunning then too. But you were wearing a coat and I didn’t get to see this.” He ran the back of his knuckles down the fabric of your dress just over that sensitive spot on your side he liked so much. “You were right. This is definitely worth it.”

“What if I told you there’s more,” you said unaffectedly, feigning interest in your empty glass. The mischievous look in your eyes when they met his confused expression gave you away. Gently, you brought his hand to your thigh, just under the hem of your dress, and his fingers instantly hooked around the strap of the garter belt holding your sheer stockings in place.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“What a way to go,” you cooed. His hand traveled up the strap to the apex of your thighs where he found little more than a thin piece of lace below the belt. “Careful,” you warned him, pushing his hand away.

Turning so that his body pinned you between him and the bar top and shielded you from the rest of your colleagues, he grasped your hand and brought it to the front of his pants “Can you feel what you do to me?” he said against the shell of your ear.

“That’s what I was hoping for.” Your smile was absolutely wicked.

“Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is not to kiss you right now?”

“Yes.” You squeezed him through his trousers. Javier might’ve looked remarkably calm, but he knew you felt his reaction. He steeled himself as he finished his drink and set the glass on the counter behind you.

“Follow me.”

… . …

Keeping a few steps behind him, you followed Javier back to the front of the club. You assumed he was leading you out to the car but apparently, he had something else in mind. He swung open the door to the coat check, since abandoned by the clerk now that all the guests had arrived and the party was in full swing. With some idea of what he had in mind, you hoped no one was inclined to leave early.

His mouth was on yours in an instant and as soon as the door was shut, you were pressed up against it.

“The coat closet at the holiday work party?” you asked in between fevered kisses. “Isn’t that a little cliché?”

“Honey,” he murmured against your neck as his lips moved lower and lower, “I know for a fact it turns you on when we fuck in public.”

His hand slipped underneath your dress again, following the same path as earlier, and he pressed his fingers against the lace covering your cunt, now soaked with your arousal. He pulled away to raise a brow at you, daring you to contradict him.

Instead, you palmed him again, finding him harder than before. “I’m not the only one,” you shot back. With your eyes locked on his, you dropped to your knees to loosen his belt and unbutton his trousers. Then you leaned forward to slowly pull the zip down – with your teeth.

“Fuck me” he gasped around a ragged exhale, his hips automatically bucking toward you. He watched you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, before he hauled you to your feet with a hand on either arm. “Fucking dirty girl.”

“Wanna be your dirty girl, Javi,” you sighed, batting your lashes at him. You wanted him unraveled and unrestrained.

“Yeah?” he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice, and you nodded, satisfied with the response you’d gotten from him. Before you realized what he was doing, he spun you around and hiked your skirt up over your ass, letting it bunch around your waist.

“Hey, be careful. This dress is vintage.”

He just laughed against your ear. “You should’ve thought of that before you started this.” With one hand on your hip to hold you up, he kicked each of your ankles to prompt you to spread your legs before hooking a finger under the band of your thong and sliding them to the side. “Damn,” he growled when his fingers met your wet cunt. “I think you’re ready for me.”

“I was ready for you the moment I saw you tonight,” you answered truthfully.  

You felt his grin as he kissed the nape of your neck. He freed his cock and ran the tip through your folds. You knew better than to tell him not to tease you. That was part of it. That was what he enjoyed. He wanted you so strung out by the time he slipped inside you that you were already a mess and he knew just how to get you there. And that was exactly where you wanted to go.

He started to press inside you, slowly stretching you around him with each inch, and you delighted in the slight burn. Usually, he spent more time preparing you, but there was no time for that. Not when you were just hoping to finish fucking each other before someone came to collect their belongings.

You were wet and ready for him, but you were unable to stop the yelp that escaped you as he pushed in a little further.

“Quiet,” he snapped. Then, softly, he asked, “are you okay?”

You nodded. “It just takes a minute sometimes. You’re so big, Javi.” You felt him twitch inside you.

“You take me so well. This cunt was made for me.” Your ego burned bright at his praise and he slid in a bit more as you relaxed around him.

He held you, gently caressing you while you adjusted in what you assumed was a merciful act of patience. When you were ready, you rolled your hips to encourage him.

“Keep – shit – keep doing that. Feels so good on my dick.” You could imagine the debauched look on his face. You reveled in it even though you couldn’t see him. He reached around you to cup your pussy, fingers rubbing against your clit and following your movements as you circled your hips. You moaned in unison.

But it wasn’t enough. Not for you. Not for Javier.

“Hold on to something.”

His warning came just a moment too late. With a gasp, you fell forward clawing at the coats in front of you and fisting an expensive looking black peacoat in hopes of staying upright as he set a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck yes!” you whined.

“Are you even trying to stay quiet?” Javier hissed.

“Yes,” you replied weakly.

“Fucking liar.” You heard the smirk.

The hand playing with your clit moved to your mouth and he slipped two fingers past your lips. It effectively muffled your noises of pleasure as he pulled you down hard on his cock with every thrust. The only sound was the wet noise of him sliding in and out of your slick cunt and the slap of your stocking-covered thighs as they bounced against his. You felt that delicious pressure deep in your belly, right between your thighs, building steadily.

Until you heard a noise just outside the door and the two of you froze.

Without pulling out of you, Javier held you to his chest. As if that would somehow help. You could feel his heart beating against your back just as your own threatened to break through your ribs. Two sets of wide eyes watched the doorknob, waiting for any sign that someone on the other side was about to turn it. You held your breath as you listened carefully to the low voices murmuring, unable to tell who they belonged to or what they were saying. It was like they were hovering just outside the door. Taunting you.

Just as you were about to suggest redressing and making a run for it, Javier started moving in and out of you as a torturously slow pace. Despite the voices nearby, a small whimper escaped you. He shushed you gently. “Quiet, baby,” he whispered.

“But–”

“You wanted this.”

“Javi­–”

“You wouldn’t have worn this” –he fingered the garter belt– “if you didn’t want to end up just like this.”

He was right, of course.

“What if–”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” You had no idea what he thought he was going to do if someone did catch the two of you, but he seemed confident enough for the both of you. Coupled with the easy rock of his hips, you relaxed into his hold. The truth was, as much as you liked the freedom of your home, you missed this. This thrill that you trusted only him to give you.

As soon as the conversation faded away, he resumed his previous pace, punching the air right out of your lungs.

“Yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chanted, forgetting the precarious situation you were in only moments ago. The coil in your belly tightened as you neared your crest, and you could tell by his less than precise movements that Javier just as close. And then, right as you were about to fall apart on his cock–

Javier pulled out and spun you back around in one swift movement. Before you even knew what was happening, he yanked down your panties and came all over you. Jaw dropping, you watched him work his length until every last drop was on you. White spurts of cum marked you and pooled in the black lace, already dripping down your thighs to the tops of your stockings. You placed a hand on either of his shoulders to steady yourself as your legs threatened to give out under you and stared down at the mess. Somehow, you were more turned on than before. You felt like you would actually combust from arousal. He held your panties in place for a moment, admiring his work, before letting the elastic snap against your skin and drawing your attention upward.

His breaths were jagged, stuttering and uneven. His head tilted back, and he looked down his nose at you with dark eyes that shone with something feral. Something sacrilegious. He was flushed and panting but a smirk tugged on his lips as he tucked his cock away and belted his pants. “You said you wanted to be my dirty girl.”

You swore you could feel your last brain cell short-circuiting. You were hyperaware of the errant drop sliding down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from him. “Always,” you promised quietly.

You kissed him with everything you had. Javier took it greedily.

“You’re so good for me. Letting me cum all over you,” he said breathlessly, still kissing you. “I want you to keep it all in your panties so that while you’re out there talking to those pretentious professors you can feel my cum between your legs. Okay?” You nodded and he graciously straightened your dress, letting it fall over your messy thighs. “You first.”

“But I didn’t–”

“Only good girls get to cum,” he replied quickly, apparently knowing exactly what you were going to say.

“Javi,” you scolded breathlessly and pointlessly, “I– I am your good girl.”

“Not tonight. You can’t keep quiet. Do you want everyone we work with to know I’m fucking you in this god damn coat closet?” You shook your head. “Don’t worry, honey, this was just foreplay. I’m not done with you yet. Tonight, I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard you’re screaming my name at the top of your lungs. I can’t do that here, but I can get you ready.”

Your head buzzed.

Some filthy part of you liked that he’d cum all over you. That he wanted to do that to you. You didn’t even need to cum because it’d felt that good. And you knew by the look in his eyes that he planned on making up for leaving you wanting, for making a mess of you. You instinctively understood that this was part of it. That even greater pleasure waited for you if you could just be patient and... and trust him. And you did trust him. You knew he would take care of you.  

If this was going to be your last night together for weeks — after hardly spending a night apart the last month and a half — then this was just the start.

“Okay,” you agreed. “But you’re a fucking tease, Javier Peña.”

He laughed with genuine mirth in his eyes. “You started it.”

“I’ll finish it,” you promised.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

You hesitated, teasing your bottom lip with your teeth. “Do we really have to go back out there?”

“It would be rude to leave so early.” You knew he didn’t care about staying. He was just tormenting you, playing a fucked-up game that had your head spinning like crazy. “But don’t worry. Eventually, I’ll take you home and fill you up. Just the way you like it. Now be a good girl” he said with a swat on your ass, “and go out first.”

Feeling defiant, you turned around and planted a kiss on his neck, purposefully leaving a smudge of red lipstick on his crisp white collar.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“Maybe I do want everyone to know your mine.”

He wiped away the lipstick he smeared when he stuck his fingers in your mouth with the pad of his thumb. “You know. That’s all I care about.”

… . …

The two of you didn’t make it another hour. Fifty-two minutes to be exact. Javier knew because he kept checking his watch only to decide that time had crept to a halt. He wanted nothing more than to take you home and finish what he’d started. Every time he glanced at you across the room, he found you squirming as you tried to keep a straight face while chatting with some colleague, and he had to look away and recompose himself.

It hadn’t been his intention to leave you wet and wanting and covered in his cum. It’d just happened in the heat of the moment. Some wild idea that he’d decided to act on. But you… you’d liked it. And so did Javier.

In reality, fifty-two minutes wasn’t that long, but it was enough time to suck up to the school’s dean. If Javier was going to be put on display as his prized lecturer for the year, he’d make him listen to him in return. Even if he had to turn up the fake charm to a ten in front of a group of wealthy alumni.

“Here she is now,” Javier said, taking a hold of your elbow as you passed by, physically dragging you into the conversation. You shot him a confused look, but he just smiled at the dean.

“Ah, yes, professor,” Dean Dalton started, “It would seem you’ve made quite the impression on Agent Peña.”

Javier elected to ignore his choice of title.

“Really? I wasn’t aware.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but he could tell you were happy.

“I’ve had the privilege of reading a few chapters of her upcoming book,” Javier explained. “Trust me, you’ll want to see what she’s planning next.”

“As luck would have it, I’ve been talking to a few of our more generous donors tonight. Perhaps we should meet when classes resume to discuss how the school might be able to help your research.” The dean clinked his glass against yours and ambled off.

“What did you just do?” you asked, disbelief lacing your voice.

“I told you I would help you.”

“Oh my God… thank you,” you said softly. You stared at him for a long moment and he just held your gaze. “Will you take you home now?”

“Yes.”

Without wasting another second, you turned on your heel and headed toward the entrance. He followed eagerly. “Wait.” You stopped suddenly and his chest hit your back. You peered at him over your shoulder. “Don’t forget our tradition.”

He quirked a brow in silent question and your eyes flicked to the bar in response. It clicked. “Got it,” he said with a grin. He swiped the first bottle of champagne he could reach. Something so expensive he couldn’t even imagine the price tag. Something neither of you could ever afford on an academic salary.

… . …

Javier drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your knee, drawing circles on your thigh over the sheer material covering your skin. Late on a chilly December night, the streets were empty, and the drive was easy. The city was unusually peaceful.

“I still can’t believe you pulled that off,” you murmured dreamily. He squeezed your knee in response.

A few minutes later, he’d stopped at a light when you quietly said his name. He turned to you and found you staring at him. You looked relaxed and happy. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how handsome you look tonight. All dressed up for me,” you offered sweetly. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

“How much did you have to drink?” he deflected.

“One drink hours ago. Nice try, but I’m sober.” You laughed but your teasing tone gave way to something softer. “You really are the most beautiful man.”

In his periphery, the light changed, bathed the inside of the car in a bright green light. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your beautiful face. Not when such an open, vulnerable sincerity graced your features.

“The light’s green,” you whispered.

“I know.”

A small smile broke out on your face.

… . …

Behind you, Javier trailed soft, lazy kisses along the slope of your neck as he slowly unzipped your dress, letting it hang loose around you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he smoothed his hands down your exposed back, thumbs gently digging into your flesh to massage your tired muscles. Every kiss, every touch, stoked the fire he’d ignited inside you hours ago.

“Let it fall,” he murmured against your skin. You slipped the straps over your shoulders and the fabric pooled at your feet. Then you reached for the clasp of your bra. “Leave it. I’ll take it off when I want to.” You bit back a devilish smile as he continued his ministrations. His lips followed his hands down your spine, and you gasped when he placed a kiss on the small of your back.

“Can’t decide how I want you first,” he mused.

“I want your mouth on me.”

He kneaded the flesh of your ass as he placed the lightest kiss on one cheek. “It is.”

“Not there.”

At your complaint, he snapped the garter belt strap so it stung against your flesh. But a firm hand on your back urged you forward until you were kneeling on the bed and he mouthed your cunt through the lace. “Here?” he asked, voice muffled.

“Yes,” you moaned, desperate for more.

“Maybe I should clean the mess I made on your pussy.” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the fabric away and sealed his mouth over your hot, wet core, drawing an inarticulate slew of curses from you.

Hands gripping the backs of your thighs right at the tops of your stockings, he alternated between sucking on your clit, teasing the little bundle of nerves between his lips, and fucking you with his tongue. The constantly changing pressure was as intoxicating as it was frustrating — it was never enough but plenty to keep you hovering right on the cusp.

Until he finally – finally – gave you what you needed most.

Holding a steady pace as he flicked his tongue over your clit, Javier pushed you right over the edge.

Unable to breath, unable to move, unable to even think, you sobbed, cunt still pulsing around nothing, when he unceremoniously flipped you over and entered you. He slid into your dripping heat easily. And somehow, your first orgasm rolled right into the second as his cock struck something magic inside you, sparking a whole new wave of pleasure.

“You can’t stop coming, can you?” he asked, grunting as he pounded into you.

It just kept going. And going. Wave after wave relentlessly rolling through you. Unceasing in the best way imaginable. Javier knew your body so fucking well. He was the only one who knew how to do this to you. “No,” you mewled deliriously, body still shaking under him.

He thumbed away a tear rolling down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. His hand left your face to knead a lace covered breast. “You look so fucking hot.”

“Fuck me harder, Javi.”

He pulled out all the way and your hips lifted, chasing him, but he pushed your knees to your chest and shouldered between your legs. “You’re not going to be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

“Good. I wanna feel you for days.” you said, ignoring the pang in your heart that told you that you were going to miss him.

“Fuck,” he spat. Your cunt drenched his cock as he slipped back inside, and your breath hitched as he hit deeper at the new angle.

“Right there!” you cried, arching up against him, “oh, God, right there!”

“One more. Give me one more,” Javier demanded, lacing your fingers together and pining your hands above your head, “But not until I tell you.”

You nodded eagerly, happy to give him whatever he wanted. “I get to tell you when too. Please, Javi.”

“Whatever you want baby. You fucking earned it.”

He kept slamming into you and every stroke of his cock rubbed against your inner walls perfectly. You swore you could almost feel every ridge and every vein of his thick length as he fucked you. Your third orgasm was tantalizingly within reach. You just needed his blessing, and you’d break.

“Alright, baby,” he panted as he rocked his hips against yours, grinding his pelvis against your clit, “cum all over my cock.”

Just like that, that tight coil inside you he’d been winding up all night snapped, and you came for a third time with a wanton cry. His name tumbled from your lips repeatedly as your body writhed beneath him, cunt spasming around his cock.

“I need to cum,” he ground out, voice cutting through the haze of pleasure.

“Ask me nicely,” you teased when your senses had returned to you just enough that you decided it was your turn to play with Javier. You wanted it to be just as good for him as he made it for you.

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Baby, please.” Javier’s broken words trembling around the edges as he begged you. His brown eyes, eclipsed by his dilated pupils and wet around the edges, stared deeply into yours and you almost gave in.

“Don’t stop.”

He made a desperate sound but kept going, snapping his hips against yours harder and harder.

“Almost there, Javi. You’re doing so good for me,” you praised, encouraging him. His jaw clenched and you kissed his neck, sucking hard on the straining muscles. His hands gripped yours so tight it hurt, and his face screwed up as he panted with each thrust. “You can cum for me, Javi. Fill me up.”

His lips crashed against yours in a desperate gratitude, and his hips stuttered as he came hard. He gasped for breath even as your mouths moved messily together. His cock twitched inside you as he painted your cunt like you’d been patiently waiting for all evening, until his body gave out and he collapsed on top of you, still locked in an embrace.

“Was that good for you?” you asked. When you didn’t get an answer, you prodded his side. He startled, eyes suddenly blinking up at you.

“What?”

“I asked if that was good for you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was... it’s always good with you but that was...” He trailed off and you thought he might’ve actually fallen asleep on you. “I’ve never cum so hard in my life. I think I fucking blacked out.”

“I didn’t know my pussy was that good.”

“Are you kidding me? I fucking love your pussy.” He was positively beaming at you. He cursed with a sigh as he laid his head back on your chest and you threaded your fingers through his damp locks, holding him close while you could.

… . …

You sat half in Javier’s lap in the middle of your bed, sheets strewn about from your previous activities, both completely naked but freshly showered. He moved his mouth against yours, tasting you, drinking you in until he was as lightheaded from your kisses as from the champagne. His hands roamed your body, touching you for no real reason other than to memorize your gentle curves. One hand cupped a breast and the other squeezed your hip, both moving slowly until they met to cradle your face.

He pulled away to look at you. No fancy dress, no jewelry, no make-up. Just you.

“Still stunning,” he whispered.

You smiled softly and pressed your lips to the bridge of his nose. “Still handsome,” you countered. Chills erupted across his skin, but you mistook his reaction. “Come here.” you pulled the blankets up as you settled back against the headboard. He followed, swiping the bottle of champagne off the nightstand. Without bothering with glasses, surely a disservice to something so expensive, he took a swig and handed it to you. It was bubbly and light and perfect for the evening.

“You never told me what you’re doing for the holidays.”

“Oh, nothing much,” you responded as you took the bottle from him. “Bev’s family celebrates Christmas. They always do gifts with the kids in the morning but then her mom and in-laws and whoever else in the family is around go over for a big dinner. She insists I come to keep her sane. Her mom and mother-in-law don’t exactly get along.”

“What about New Year’s?”

You took a long pull before sighing. “Well, I usually spend the night with Sunny watching old movies and drinking too much wine.” Your face pinched. “That sounds much sadder when I say it out loud.”

“You don’t mind being alone?”

“It’s been this way for years now.” You smiled, a rueful thing. “I’m used to it. I’m usually so tired after the quarter ends that I don’t mind the time alone.” You tried to brush it off, but he could hear the sadness in your voice.

“You could–” Javier stopped himself. “You could call. Anytime. I’ll give you my dad’s home number so you can reach me.”

That time your smile reached your eyes, crinkling the corners as you looked away bashfully. “That’s really sweet of you.” You reached for his hand and added, “I’ll call you at midnight in Laredo.”

“We’ll talk until midnight in Los Angeles.”

You curled up next to him before Javier could decipher your expression.

When he felt your breathing even out, surely sated from the sex and exhausted after the quarter, he pried the bottle from your grasp. He finished the last bit before setting it aside and switching off the lamp, careful not to disturb you.

Javier held you close, not unlike the way you’d held him the night before. He knew he needed to get his shit together. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He needed to protect you from his past. But he didn’t know how to do that when he couldn’t even protect himself.

He flicked off the light and hoped for a peaceful sleep.

… . …

The first thing you noticed when you woke up the next morning was the dark bruise that you’d sucked onto Javier’s neck the night before. You ran your fingertips over it, outwardly cringing but inwardly, well, preening. This time it had been you who left those little love bites on his neck.

“Did you mark me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a quiet rumble. “Fucking felt that last night.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you answered, looking up at him as innocently as possible.

“Don’t lie to me,” he grumbled as his eyes blinked open. “You were a woman determined last night.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I liked it,” he grinned, but it faded quickly. “I forgot I was going home today. My dad’s picking me up at the airport.”

“Oh shit,” you laughed, burying your face against his chest.

“Don’t laugh. That’s not funny.”

“Maybe you should try buttoning your shirt like a normal person for once.”

In one smooth movement, he flipped you over and caged you beneath him. “You’re pushing your luck,” he tried to warn, but the grin on his face and the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

“What time is your flight?” you asked, soothing a hand across his face.

“One.” He glanced over at the clock. “It’s ten now.”

You wondered, just for a moment, if he would stay with you if you asked him to. If he would pass the holidays with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone. But that was foolish. And more than a little selfish. He had his family to go home to.

“You should probably go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I should.”

He eased his hold on you but made no move to leave. Not until he’d placed a kiss on your lips and one on your forehead in a gentle goodbye.

... . ...

Thank you for reading! 💗

Forever Tags: @leo-moon @readsalot73 @frietiemeloen @huliabitch @jerusomeeno @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann @scapricciatello @liadamerondjarin @pedropasscals @paintballkid711 @mistermiraclee @honeyand-roses

Curriculum Vitae Tags: @softpedropascal @roxypeanut @unstoppableforcce @technicallykawaiisoul @mrsparknuts @weirdowithnobeardo @seeking-a-great--perhaps @assultsofthought @arrowswithwifi @larakasser @romewritingshop @none-of-your-bullshit @the-bird-suit @magneticbucky @bbygrgu @luminarahan @buckstaposition @grapemama @emzd34 @itsilvermorny​

Javier: @wander-lustbabe​

Tag lists are always open. 

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña x you #fic: curriculum vitae

[bootleg-sara]

For the headcanon thing, what about a character (from anywhere you'd like) that you feel is underrated by the fans?

Okay so, originally I was going to talk about a cool theory I had about Darkrai in the PMD sky games because it’s something I rarely see discussed, but then I realized I had nothing about them to speak of other than the theory itself, because Darkrai as a character is really shallow. Which is a shame given how interesting and diverse the other main antagonists of that game are. That’s why this ask took me a lot longer to get to than the others.

But anyhow, this post is about Lazarus now because I couldn’t think of anyone else. A character I feel is one of the most forgotten characters. Which I don’t really blame because his regular game gimmick is by far the most boring but this isn’t about discussing game play.

If anyone wants to send more requests from the format from this post, please send them on over! It doesn’t have to be tboi, but I certainly won’t complain if it is.

(Head canons undercut)

Lazarus 💊 (age 10) (I think. I don’t have my reference sketches with me and I don’t feel like waiting to make this much longer than I already have)

Hc A (canon-adjacent): Lazarus was born a very sickly kid. I haven’t decided exactly what illness he is struck with. It would make sense if it was anemia, seeing as he starts with it as an item. It could be combination of many things. But I haven’t been able to decide on anything concrete. Anyhow, Lazarus was born with some undefined illness that has left him struggling for all of his life. Not only that, he very easily catches any sort of disease that may be flying around at the time. Often times that even on good days Lazarus will end up catching something like the flu.

Most of the hospital/disease based items (E. Coli, most of the syringes, Sinus infection, etc.) where created in the basement as a result of Lazarus’ existence. Lazarus, despite what you may think, actually really likes all of these items. Sure they don’t exactly make you feel good. Common Cold will block up your nose and make breathing hard for example. But he views these items as empowering for him. Taking something that has left him alone and crippled for years now being used to make him even stronger than before. Lazarus loves the feeling of power these items give him over his old life. Though he does hate Contagion.

Hc B (funny): Lazarus is not a pushover. Well that’s not quite accurate, most of the time he is a massive pushover. Any person with a confident, aggressive, and stubborn enough personality can easily snap him and get him to do whatever they want him to. Though he will fight back against most things, at least for a little bit before the person starts to overwhelm him. Lazarus hates the process of dying and using his rags. He will try to convince anyone telling him to use it not to. This he’s awful stubborn on and will argue for the longest time about. Though stay on it for awhile and he’ll give in eventually. He can have quite the attitude as well.

Lazarus is not afraid to call everyone out on their flaws and hypocrisy. This does include Samson, who Lazarus had managed to gain some respect from because of it (Samson’s just happy someone will actually listen to him even if it’s not all positive feedback). However due to his rather weak willpower, Lazarus is by far the one who’s taken the most advantage of by all the kids. Becoming the basement’s residential punching bag. Eve, Azazel, and Jacob are the biggest offenders of this. Judas just finds him really annoying he does with everyone, but certainly takes joy in ordering Lazarus around every now and again. The others either don’t care enough to bother, or are actually decent people who know that using someone for their own benefit is wrong.

Hc C (sad boi hours): (warning- very heavy themes of mortality, proceed at your own risk.)

Lazarus doesn’t his know his real mother and father. He was abandoned at the hospital when he was born. Wether it was because of his potentially fatal condition or some other factor is unknown. But while sitting in care with the doctors, the two of them silently got up and left. Lazarus was soon adopted by a gay couple who were looking for a child to raise as their own. Lazarus’ parents are absolute sweethearts and did there very best to raise him. He learned that they weren’t his parents at a pretty young age. The two of them had figured that once Lazarus learned were babies comes from, it was going to be very obvious that two men probably weren’t his biological parents. Though Lazarus didn’t mind this fact as much as he thought he would, as they were always loving and supportive as him. As far as he cares, they were his parents.

Unfortunately, their unconditional love didn’t make Lazarus’ health any better. He was often bedridden, being unable to go anywhere for weeks on end. He loved to be outside whenever he could, but every moment was just another risk for him to get sick again. His room is filled with different kinds of plants and colorful flowers in hopes of cheering him up when stuck in his room. Lazarus loved his room, but it was never enough of a replacement for what he was missing. His condition is a huge financial burden on his parents. They were both well aware of the risk that came with raising a kid like Lazarus, but his story broke their hearts and they couldn’t bare to leave him alone in some hospital. Lazarus was very well aware of his parents financial troubles. His parents did their best to keep this information away from him. Though Lazarus had been in view of some of their many fights. And with how he always had so much while his parents had very little for themselves, he could put the picture together very easily.

Lazarus spent plenty of time in a hospital bed. His home remedies weren’t always enough, and sometimes sudden, serious symptoms would crop out of nowhere and force him into one of these rooms. Lazarus hates being here the most. Not only was it mostly devoid of color like his room was, it was also the place where he had the most panic attacks. Lazarus had feared death for as long as he can image. Despite his parents best efforts and all the treatment he has gone through, at any moment he could reach a point beyond saving. The very thought was enough to ruin a perfectly good day. It left him fidgety and uncomfortable. He’s start heavily hyperventilating if he couldn’t get his hands on some kind of distraction as soon as physically possible. Many nights went sleepless because Lazarus feared he would never wake up. This idea controlled so much of him. He’s sink into his electronics to turn off his brain for awhile, as he didn’t know what else he could do. His parents took keen notice of this, but truthfully had no idea how to help him other than letting him distract himself whenever he needed it. They couldn’t deny the fact that he could end up dead, it was to much of a reality to ignore. They had tried giving him some comfort in the form of religion, telling him that there was a life after his time here was over. Though this only helped Lazarus so much, as his own uncertainties always crawled back in some shape or form.

It quickly became to much for Lazarus to handle. He knew he was a burden to his family. Only causing stress and pain to people who cared so much about him. They probably hated him for all of this, didn’t they? How he was always so sensitive and whiny. Bothered by so many little things and always drew in the eyes of others whenever they went into town together. He relied so heavily on his parents and he couldn’t give them anything back in return. A burden was all he was to people. He’d be better off dead, for him to be a thought of the past and a new kid to take his place. But he couldn’t die, it was much to scary for him. He just wanted to no longer bring such anguish to his family. It’s all he ever wanted. One night he found himself again in the hospital. It was night time and he was supposed to be sleeping. His parents had gone home after spending all day with him like they had done so many times before. Lazarus was still rather weak, but he had enough energy to walk. And that’s exactly what he did. He got up, and left the hospital. All he had to do was run into the forest and stay there for awhile. Lazarus likes plants, he knew a lot about them. Surely there were enough berries and other edible plants for him to live off of. Yeah he got sick easily, but he had read awhile ago that they body naturally built up resistances to bacteria with age. Perhaps that’s all he really needed. Maybe after awhile he can come back once his parents were no longer struggling so much. He just needed space. That was all. Just some time spent outdoors like he always wanted to be. Nothing more than that. Don’t come looking for me. Please oh God above don’t come looking for me. I’ll be okay.

Hc D (personal takes): Lazarus and Risen Lazarus don’t have any differences personality wise. Though they both do act very differently from one another despite this. Lazarus is all flight and Risen Lazarus is all fight. Regular Lazarus is normally very weak. They can’t deal very much damage and much prefer to hide from enemies rather than fight them. Of course to get from place to place you have to fight them, so Lazarus will be left sitting in the same room for minutes on end in hopes that the doors will open for him anyways. He will avoid dying at all cost because the experience of it is terrible. His fighting style is slow and methodical. The rumors of what happens to someone when staying on one floor for too long has made Lazarus a bit more willing to pick up the pace, but he’s been fine with how he fights so far. While it’s pretty much inevitable whether you win or lose in the basement, at least if you get to the end he can see his parents again for a brief moment. Lazarus could care less about some “stat boost”.

When he becomes risen however, Lazarus is much more aggressive. At that point he’s lost his last chance to survive and desperately wants to continue living. He has nothing to lose and can’t afford to play things safe anymore. He’s a much more competent fighter while risen. Most kids prefer his side of him, but the very real fear that takes over Lazarus when risen makes him adamantly against using it. Plus, in his defense, his ability to live again in the same room after death has save him a good few runs while fighting some of the harder bosses.

#basement rambles #tboi #the binding of isaac #binding of isaac #I also really need to make a relationship chart/post for all the kids dynamics #maybe I’ll work on that tomorrow who knows #oof this posted ended up so much more depressing then I had planned for it Lbfkabd #Lazarus has accidentally become a very heavy vent character for me so apologies of that makes this hard to read at certain points

[hacked-by-jake]

It's me. :D

Trigger warning: Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder (Borderline). Mention of toxic relationship. (?)

Hi, I'm hbj and I'm a Borderliner. :) (That sounds more special than it is😂)

I’m shaking a little bit and I’m a little excited to talk about it but I think it might be kind of cool and bring a little something. For whoever it is....

By the way, it probably contains a lot of mistakes. I apologize for that.

Okay, so I got this question from @sizz-rizz :

Well, I like the question, but I have to say at the beginning that the answer will probably be different than expected. And probably a little longer.

That’s why I don't want to answer this under your question, but in an extra post. This is really personal and I want to say something about myself. <3

For this question it is simply necessary to tell the truth and not simply to invent any lies. I could have said now that I had great experiences etc.

Since you asked about my expectations, it is a little hard to explain the whole thing so quickly because my views on the subject are completely different from the "normal" views.😅

And that for reasons that are not my intention. Besides, I think it might help me get rid of it.

I want to say a lot more, but I just forgot, so I’ll just start.

> This is probably all messed up and confused, but I don’t have a real structure for this. xD

I don’t know exactly how to start.

This shouldn't going to be a really big topic on my blog afterwards. 😅

.....

I have some serious difficulties with interpersonal relationships.

I’m just being honest now: I have the mental illness: Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder. More commonly known as Borderline. (If you’ve never heard of it, do me a favor and please don’t google after it because you can’t include me in the "cliché" of a borderliner.😅) Just like many others don’t fit the cliché. As soon as you read about it on the Internet you get a completely wrong impression of the disease and for me there is nothing worse than that someone believes in it in connection with me. If you have actually questions, I will also give you an answer, but looking for it on the Internet is absolutely what I advise against.

>>>>

Well, in reality, my expectations of a relationship are really, unfortunately, "toxic".

(I’m actually not the type for a relationship in real life. I’m not the type (which is also due to the borderline)

And in addition, it can be quite difficult to find someone who can deal with this condition because I’m really not an easy person.

Well, my real expectations of a relationship are very special, I’m extremely afraid of really getting involved with people. My sense of shame is huge and I’m pretty much uncomfortable with everything I do, which also makes it difficult to have a relationship.

That’s probably why I write fan fiction because there I can choose how it should work for me. And the relationship I’m writing to Jake and MC has nothing to do with my real thoughts about it.

I write the fanfictions (like everyone else) so that it is the most beautiful or a beautiful idea. In fact, most of the time it would never work out that way, which is why I’m not really into real life relationships. 🤭

>

I had a friend, even for two years (at the time I had no idea I have borderline)

In any case, at the beginning this was rather such a complete love of youth. We also got together way too fast and he already told me after the first meeting that he loves me xD

Yeah, very good start, isn’t it?

In any case, we got together anyway. The start of the relationship was terrible and that should have made me think.

However, it became a real relationship, and the beginning was really nice.

I was young and in love, and I had a terrible sense of self-confidence, which is none at all, or not really.

In any case, as this happen, we are more and more welded together. He was morbidly jealous and I was jealous, and everything went on and many things happened.

At some point, we both have everything forbidden for each other and actually had only fights. Because of jealousy and such stuff.

Well, we did it for two years, and after that we weren’t together for two years, but it was still a sick one back and forth. I don’t want to mention too many details, but yes, that’s how it was.

And in fact, after I was completely broken, I broke off contact after four years, which was just the beginning of last year.

However, this relationship was completely toxic and unhealthy. He was toxic and I was toxic as well.

(Classic 'First Big Love' Movie Drama xD)

Okay, what I want to say about your question. Yeah, I’ve had a relationship before, but it wasn’t what a relationship was supposed to be.

What I’m saying is, be careful, love can be something beautiful but at the same time really "dangerous"

You are the most important people for yourself, and you should always make sure that you are well.

I know that it's easy to say but I think it’s really important to note that.

So, you see, the fanfictions have absolutely nothing to do with my reality. (At least according to my current experience)

Sure, sometimes we write angst/ creepy things or such stuff but that’s mostly just what we can/ could really wear ourselves. I think most fanfictions are (mostly) far from reality. Of course, it depends on the characters involved in the fanfictions, I hope you can understand what I’m trying to say.

My stories are mostly far from reality but still so that it could still be real. However, the goal is really to dive into another world and imagine what could happen.

I just struggle to find the right words because I am a little confused myself.

Of course, most of what is written is relatively unlikely but the idea it might be real, makes it beautiful. <3

--

I think I’ve actually said pretty much everything I can say about it (I probably forgot a lot but I’m a little nervous)

Well, I hope you liked the answer and I was able to answer it.

For everyone else: Yes, that’s a small impression of me. I think I should not be so shy about it and I myself make it a bigger topic than it actually is.

Okay, I'll finish this.

Much love to you all and feel hugged!❤️🥰🎭🌹

#personal #Hbj talks

[raviolimouse]

wanna share some tips for sustainable fashion, because its important to me :]

ok so everyone knows by now that fast fashion bad, im not gonna sit here and go into that and i encourage you to do your own research! The point of this is how to be more sustainable with clothing to help out the environment WHILE being able to follow current “fashion trends” :]

* note: the point of this is not to shame anyone who has ever shopped fast fashion. we all have. the point of this is how to reduce ur own carbon footprint and be mindful of the impact you yourself are making on the environment

firstly lets talk about donation sites like goodwill, salvation army, etc. Donating your old clothes is obviously not evil in of itself - the problem occurs when people overconsume; they buy huge hauls of clothes once a week that go out of style by the time they have their next haul. and then theyre donating these huge hauls of (typically poor quality as well) clothing to goodwill super super often. this surplus of donations causes more clothes to end up in landfills (goodwill dumps all of their clothes that dont get bought ). The top result on google says that it takes 200+ years for clothes to decompose in landfills, and that textiles generate greenhouse gases and toxic chemicals into our water and soil.

so step one is to stop overconsuming. you dont need to buy multiple items of clothing every single week. even if you donate it, your actions are still harmful. it may be hard to stop this, especially if buying clothes this way is an outlet for you, and i understand that, but this is really the first step to being more sustainable. (i can make a guide to help with overconsumption if ppl want, but i dont want this post to get too lengthy)

secondly, learn that fashion trends literally arent real. and since were in the age of technology and short video platforms cough TikTok cough, fashion trends last MUCH shorter than they used to in previous decades. Look at that weird pattern sweater dress thing that went viral for about a week before ppl got tired of it.

create your own, unique style, with pieces that you can keep in your closet for years and years.

obviously, following fashion trends is inevitable, especially for younger people. if this is the case for you, dont blindly follow fashion trends. make sure you actually like what youre purchasing, and that you wont toss it the second it goes “out of style”

next step shop second hand!! this ones obvious and ill commend our generation because were already super good at it! :] heres some tips to be sustainable while doing so:

buy clothes that will last. Once again leaving trends out of it. Do you actually like the piece, or is it just trendy?

do you have a piece like this already?

get clothes that can be styled in multiple different ways if you can!!!! this means that youll be able to keep them for longer esp if its something that wont ever go out of style :)

and lastly, the most important tip (imo) keep your freaking clothes.

keep them for years, decades even. Keep them for your kids! wont have kids? give them to your friends, family, etc. fashion trends always always cycle, so if youre throwing something out because its out of style, maybe try keeping it for a few years! itll come back in style, and you wont have to rush out and buy the over priced version :]

remember how cool it was to inherit your parents old ass clothes from the 80s/90s? you had real vintage to show off! keep your clothes!

the item is worn out! Upcyle! T shirt tote bags are super easy to make, and everyone always needs cleaning rags. be creative ! ive seen headbands, bags, new items of clothing, key chains, etc. maybe this is even an opportunity to learn a new hobby!

thats all ive got for now! feel free to rb and add on your tips/ how you stay sustainable/ corrections to my information. Mina Le has a spectacular video on overconsumption and fast fashion trends called “The Cult of Shein” if you want to learn more :]

#fashion #clothes #sustainability #sustainable #fashion trends #alternative #post punk #aesthetic clothing #dark academia #goth aesthetic #designer #runway

[maccreadysimp]

breaking down this anti-ian article bc it bothers me ( from the child of a bipolar mother and a male teen with same sex attraction ) while also providing valid reasons ian sucks ( from someone who likes ian )

ive had this drafted for a while so i dont think i cover anything from season 11

tw for i^cest and r^pe

he was with a married man

in this point it points out that he was with kash and he continued his relationship with kash even after linda put cameras in the store

“Ian didn't seem to care about how wrong his affair with Kash was or how much it could hurt Kash's wife Linda, whom he saw at the store regularly. “

that is a quote from that part.

ian gallagher was fifteen in season one, kash was an older man who bought him gifts and payed attention to ian ,, that was not on ian , none of that was ian fault because he was a child

ian wasnt open with lip

“ Ian didn't tell Lip about his preferences and forced Lip to figure it out on his own. Lip was instantly accepting of his brother's truth and even offered to help him figure out any confusion he might be harboring, so it's really strange that Ian wasn't just upfront with his closest confidant from the start.”

no , lip wasnt forced to figure it out on his own and he also wasn’t instantly accepting.

in this point it mentions that ‘they’re extremely close ( bestfriends and brothers ) so its strange ian didnt tell him’

like point 1 , ian is a fifteen year old boy, growing up on the southside , and thoughout the show it has mentioned multiple times that the southside isnt that accepting

back to lip -- lip wasnt accepting, sure he was fine but ‘helping your younger brother figure it out’ by having a (female) classmate give him a blowjob isnt helping

he secretly dated his best friends brother

“Most friends have an unspoken rule about not dating each other's siblings, but Ian broke this rule by secretly entering into a relationship with Mandy's closeted brother Mickey.”

the only thing i have to say about this is , he was still with kash and mickey was a boy in his age group who was gay , growing up in the southside ian probably thought he was the token gay so of course hes going to chase after mickey

he stood by as kash attacked mickey

“Ian didn't do anything to stop Kash from shooting his new lover, and didn't even tell the police about his boss' over-the-top display of jealous action so proper justice could be served.”

okay. because two men he had fallen for had gotten into a fight, there was a gun involved and he panicked, in the end after mickey got shot he went to him

now to address the quote, he didnt say anything to the police because he probably knew that that would bring shame onto kash and his family, along with mickey and his family who are very homophobic

oh yeah and it was like 2011 and cops suck and THEY LIVE ON THE SOUTHSIDE

he and lip tried framing terry milkovich

oh the homophobic and racist dad of his boyfriend and bestfriend who tried to kill him and r*ped his daughter ?

yeah , shit man , that was real bad they shouldn’t have done that /s

he dated jimmy-steves married father

“Ian didn't bother telling Jimmy the truth about his father and didn't end his relationship with Lloyd upon finding out that he had a secret wife and family, either.”

at this point ian is probably sixteen but that doesnt matter bc i wont even address that

he met him at a club and then used his relationship with ned to make mickey jealous which was one of the reasons he kept seeing him, he didnt tell jimmy-steve about the relationship or his father bc he shouldnt find out from him he should find out from his father , again like kash, ned was an older man who payed attention to ian and ned later did develop feelings feelings for ian

he stole lips identity to enlist in the army

he enlisted because he didnt know what to do with himself, its implied/stated that the army timeline was the start of his bipolar

“While impersonating Lip, Ian had tried to steal a helicopter and then proceeded to go AWOL.”

this is because of the bipolar he suffers from, it is referenced later in the series after he gets back and hes manic

ian refused to accept being bipolar

of course he didnt accept it, it is made very clear that his family thinks lowly of monica so of course if hes the lucky duck to get what his siblings demonize her for, of course he’ll not want to be it

“He refused to take medications that could alter his personality or mood.”

okay. this is why im making this whole post, this goes along with part 15 ( or so idk ) ,,

my mother , my dear mother, who is bipolar and doesnt take her meds because they are mood altering , my mom doesnt take med because she told me once that they make her feel like shit, she told me that a little after i was born she started taking them but realized she felt nothing, she felt nothing for my dad or for i ( making her numb )

she told me anti deppresents dont help either because when shes on them and manic it pushes her past productive and into angry

my dad told me that when my mom was on bi polar medication she would seem angry most of the time

he wasnt faitful to mickey

“Ian's bipolar disorder made him very reckless and impulsive and led him to be unfaithful.”

lets break that down.

ians. bipolar. disorder.

this plot point i actually didnt like, mainly bc ian never addresses it so ill give the article a point. but then i take away 2 because they have more of a problem with his bipolar messing with him rather than the fact he never apologized and they never worked it out

ian stole yevgeny

before i start quoting i should mention because his boyfriend, who has supported and helped him is suddenly telling him he needs help, he was helping raise yev so he’ll see yev as his own

“Ian failed to recognize just how crazy he was acting...”

cuting you off right there , he was in a bipolar state, he wasnt ‘crazy’ and isnt ‘crazy’

he cant even keep count of his number of partners

just slutshaming i see

he helped throw frank off a bridge

“His relationship with Frank was understandably never the same after that, as Frank struggled to get over this act of betrayal and cruelty.”

‘was never the same after that’ frank never liked ian, ian was probably his least favorite and that point is very apparent

also , it wasnt just ian , his siblings and his boyfriend caleb

he left a healthy relationship to be with mickey

he fell in love with mickey at 15 , mickey was a comfort and always someone to fall back on, when mickey was taken away and no longer in the picture his heart still obviously was with mickey and when mickey came back he didnt know what to do

he told mickey he had a boyfriend but because mickey has been such a constant in his life he finally has back of course he couldnt resist

he liked trevor, i could tell he did but trevor wasnt the one he watched get r^ped by a russian prostitute, he wasnt the one ian was secretly dating bc it would be a death wish other wise, he wasnt the one there when ian was manic or depressive ( at the start )

he tried blackmailing an old client for money

“Instead of raising the money in an honest manner, Ian chose to visit an old client from his time working at the Fairy Tail and blackmail him into funding the shelter.”

because he felt indebted to trevor and wanted to make it up to him, it would have taken longer to do it in ‘an honest manner’ when his sister would have gotten it instead, he knew how much gay youths like he once was needed a safe place

“He grew up wanting to be nothing like his father, but this whole money-making scheme was straight out of the Frank playbook”

because thats all he knows, he grew up with that ‘playbook’ so of course hes going to take a page out of it, he is nothing like frank , franks money making schemes are selfish and for his own greed while ian wanted the money to help build a safe space for lgbt youth

he let fame inflate his ego

of course he did, hes a southside kid who was destined to fail

also it is very apparent that during the gay jesus era he went off his medication which didnt help

“Before long, he just completely forgot about his ex and focused solely on being a deity”

as much as yes, he did let it mess with his head, he was trying to still help lgbt youth and was going against anti gay churchs , in the end it didnt work out for him because he was off his meds and went over board

he stopped taking his meds

see previous point and ‘ian refused to accept being bipolar’

he actually wanted to stay in prison

because he was doing good in there

ian was helping others and was spreading awareness about lgbt with in the prison , and as him and jail scenes go , we can see people were listening to him and he was trying to make it safe sane and consensual

he let down his army of followers

“Ian admitted that most of his actions were completely irrational and the mere results of his bipolar disorder.”

he didnt want to, we can see this, because he knew he would let down everyone, his family were the only ones to ever ground him and they knew it would be the best option for his own mental health

during the gallavich wedding we can see that a lot of his supporters still have his back because they must know how hard it was for him to put all of that success on something he can’t control

he constantly wasted his potential

this is actually the only point in this article i actually agree with , so only 1/20 i agree with

his relationship with mickey wasn’t actually great

“Mickey spent the first several years of their relationship denying his feelings for Ian.”

he was raised by a homophobic and racist father who he knew would react the way he did when terry had caught the two that one day

“Even after he finally embraced his true self, Ian's bipolar disorder kept them from becoming truly happy together.”

yes but mickey was there for him the entire time and helped him through it, he told him he loved him which was really big for him and did his best to care for him

“They couldn't seem to remain faithful to each other for more than a few weeks.”

back to the point about ians bipolar but for mickey he wanted monogamy , now that scene in s11 may say otherwise but it is very clear that he wants a monogamous relationship with ian and ian ( after getting help ) wants one too, and in the later seasons they are monogamous

“When Mickey asked Ian to run away to Mexico with him, Ian refused.”

he wanted to, it’s obvious, but ian has his family and didnt want to abandon them again, i think part of him knew he would see mickey again because they always find eachother, he gave mickey all of his money and wanted mickey to have a good life

“Their relationship was simply never healthy.”

no it wasnt, but thats why the ship is great in its own way, the gay closet kid raised by a homophobic man is obviously going to have a lot of baggage , and ian who is bipolar and struggling with himself will also have a lot of baggage , but in the end they love eachother and that really shows in season five and season seven specifically

that is all lol ,,, this is long sorry

now, i am not a ian apologist , i love ian but hes a dumbass sometimes

actual valid reasons ian sucks

genuinely believes frank is worse than terry

yes frank was definitely abusive but terry is definitely worse ,,

mentally/physically/sexually abusive , the whole nine yards

terry hired a prostitute to r^pe his son , threatened to kill him and ian on multiple occasions , r^ped his daughter who ended up pregnant and is actively racist

frank on the other hand will make gay jokes but in the end doesnt give enough of a shit , he has attacked his children on multiple occasions but not to the brutality that terry has ( this isnt me excusing it )

sorry ian , terry is worse

never apologized

he never apologized for all the shit he put mickey and his family through, never apologized to mickey for cheating on him , never apologized for all the manic and depressive episodes mickey endured with him

never apologized for walking away when he couldn’t handle it, in hall of shame mickey actually acknowledges this saying ‘its youre whole MO’

debbies sexuality

he has constantly made statements saying debbie isnt gay and that bothers me because , why does it care ? as a gay man and as a gay man who soent time with a lot of lgbt youth wouldnt he support his sister even if shes just ‘experimenting’?

in the recent season he doesnt seem to care and doesn’t say anything but it still bothers me

mickey only getting like 80% of his heart

okay look , i get what ian means when he says this , everyones hes been with has made him who he is but fucking hell dude ,, shut up , thats your husband , thats the love of your life you shouldnt be saying shit like that , especially to him

and then this man had the audacity to say mickey probably feels the same about past flings when he knows that ian is the only one hes probably ever been with/serious about

obviously there is probably more but those are the main ones that come to mind

—

before anyone brings up the trans or bi thing im going to explain my thought process for him

like ive probably mentioned multiple times he grew up southside and obviously only ever grew up with lgb and not t ,, trevor did inform him a lot and ian became supre accepting of everyone,, sexual preference isnt transphobic but i do think he approached the matter badly

now the bi thing , legit all i think is that he doesnt hate bisexual people its just that the man he really liked slept with a woman and never expressed any heterosexual attraction so it probably just suprised him and pissed him off because caleb did cheat on ian

—

if you read this far HOLY SHIT THANKS LOL ,, im not adding things that i think are pro about ian this was just me breaking down that article and giving my two cents :)

feel free to message me and talk to me or send me articles like this about any other character/relationship and i will totally break that one down too lol

thanks for letting me rant

#mine #shameless #ian gallgher #gallavich #mickey milkovich #text post

[tanoraqui]

okay I have to do this today because even I wouldn’t do it after the godforsaken finale airs, and it’s basically my specialty and I did spend like an hour thinking about it last night while washing dishes. Definitely partly inspired by @words-writ-in-starlight​‘s insightful post on everything Supernatural did wrong, and apologies in advance to all the characters for dragging them into anything related to Christian mythology:

Wei Wuxian’s parents die in a house fire when he’s 6(? I refuse to look anything up) months old

Jiangs are a hunter family I guess? That whole disaster of a family dynamic, except WWX dips out at some point to be idk an environmental activist bc at the time, that seems like the larger threat to the whole world. “Mom and Dad went on a hunting trip and they haven’t come back”, “bitch” “jerk”, 2 brothers in a beat-up old car, you know the drill

Jins are also an old hunting family, but more Men of Letters energy - they have a fancy bunker and do research and avoid getting their actual hands dirty. Jiang Yanli ducked out of the active hunting life a few years ago to be happily married to her peacock and settled down with a baby and she’s fine. We’re not going to bother Yanli. She’s safe and happy and doesn’t need to involved in any of this

so, WWX is the demon blood child developing exciting new abilities like telekinesis, mind control, exorcising demons by sheer force of will...etc, and Jiang Cheng is the Righteous Man. Lucifer, Michael, etc.

s1-3 probably proceeds more or less as spn canon...which I more or less remember...by the time they find their parents at the end of s1, Jiang Fengmian is...ugh, we probably shouldn’t kill him offscreen, I mean, we should probably meet him before he dies. I guess. Madam Yu lasts longer because I’m way more interested in her. But we do know that both Jiang parents are totally inclined to fling the boys into a metaphorical or literal escape boat and go hold the line for as long as possible, so...that’s spn energy...

Xue Yang is the one who’s like “fuck yeah, demon powers” and opens the gates of Hell, because I want him to have nice* things

*nice for Xue Yang

from characterization rather than memory, I’m 90% sure that Dean tried to hide his crossroads deal from Sam, but Jiang Cheng does it...better. I think it does come out, though. Right before the hellhounds do.

here’s where it starts to go farther off from spn canon. Jiang Cheng crawls his way out of the grave, gets stalked by a menacing presence that explodes windows for an episode, incidentally can’t find WWX...*Lan Wangji voice* “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition” (a baller line then and a baller line now)...and then the next episode starts with them all awkwardly standing around, and JC is like, “ok well let’s go find my brother then”, and you think there’s going to be an mdzs-riffing JC+LWJ Roadtrip To Find WWX...and they’re immediately attacked by like a dozen demons

in fact, the first time we see WWX in s4 is here, wherein he goes toe to toe with an angel and...holds his own. that’s new and terrifying! also is leading a squad of demons??

because here’s the thing: for the last 3(?) months, there’s been war in hell

because unlike Some People Mooses, upon finding out that his brother’s soul was legally nearly-owned by a crossroads demon, heir-apparent-to-Satan!WWX went, “actually fuck that” and kicked open the door of Hell (metaphorically, not loosing any demons this time) and was like, “who do I have to beat the shit out of to get a specific crossroads contract around here”

this did not work, obv. He didn’t know until it was too late, Lilith had already snapped up the contract, etc. etc.

obviously he also tried to offer himself instead, and got rejected for some reason

Since Jiang Cheng died, however, there’s been a war for control of Hell. Leading one side, Lilith, the Original Babe, who wants to break all 666(?) seals keeping Lucifer bound and in the meantime, break the Righteous Man so Heaven won’t even have Michael’s destined host ready for the Final Battle. Leading the other side, Wei Wuxian, infamous upstart, who wants to rescue the Righteous Man and restore him to life, tear Lilith’s guts out through her nose, and also stop her from doing the Lucifer thing because Wen Qing explained that yes, that’s a Thing, and it’s Bad.

Wen Qing! I’ve decided to combine Bela and Ruby’s roles and let WQ be both the cool badass example of how demon deals can go Bad and the demon deliberately leading our heroes astray for most of s3-4. Wen Qing is a very new demon; she used to be some sort of herbalist/witch but then she sold her soul in a crossroads deal to cure her brother of some lingering illness. 10 years of happiness and then boom, hellhounds. WQ is so obviously competent, though, that they (Lilith, I guess?) immediately offers her a job, with the promise threat that gee, that’s a nice brother you’ve got there, even with his Designated Chronic Health Condition getting all relapse-y. It’d be such a shame if something were to...happen to him...

we find this out at some point in last s3 I guess? some Monster of the Week case involves WN as a witness or something, or possible next victim, and WQ shows up to be A Normal Amount Of Invested In This, while desperately trying to avoid actually interacting with her brother (who thinks she’s dead). YES, the truth comes out; YES there’s a tearful reunion

now in s4, Wen Ning is fine actually, health-wise, bc he maybe made a crossroads deal with Wei Wuxian personally, and Wen Qing may or may not have admitted that she’s supposed to be working for Lilith to get WWX ready to host Lucifer? Or potentially that comes out later, idk. Either way, she’s 100% his top lieutenant in this exciting Hell War they’re waging

[insert whatever the hell (ha) happened plot-wise in s4 of supernatural]

we obviously mix up the relationships, too, bc it’s like, *LWJ internal monologue* I’m too young to remember my brother Lucifer as he was before he Fell, but surely Wei Wuxian is his Heir and Destined Vessel in truth, for he is Charismatic and Charming and Makes Me Feel Things, with his Clearly Feigned Righteous Drive and Compassion for All God’s Creatures and - why does heat keep pooling in the lower abdomen of my vessel when I look at his lips, which I am definitely doing a Normal and Not-Weird Amount - I’m just keeping an eye out for the famed Silver Tongue, and not in any way wondering how it would feel in my own mouth -

it’s actually DEFINITELY plausible for Lucifer to still be released even if our designated Heir Apparent is using his demon powers to his full potential and no one’s lying to each other about their motives. You just need to let Lilith be more scary too, and especially bc by “no one” I mostly mean Wen Qing; the angels are still totally hiding the fact that they, too, want to jumpstart the shit out of this apocalypse.  LWJ decides at the last minute that that’s a bad idea actually, gets himself discorporated to send JC to intercept WWX because he accidentally releases Lucifer, etc. etc. Oh yeah, the boys were def fighting before this, bc JC has actually fairly reasonable concerns about the sort of things WWX is getting up to in his quest to become King of Hell...

SO

...I neither know nor care what happens in s5

it does end with both Lucifer and Michael locked in the cage probably, bc I rather liked that solution. Fuck both of ‘em, basically.

I was toying with the idea that WWX also found Madam Yu in whatever hellish torment she was suffering after making a deal so her idiot son(s) would survive, and she was leading forces for him in the war against Lilith as well. If she came back to life somehow, body and all, it’d probably be compelling if she offered her own body to Michael - bc it’s her lineage! - and we’re all led to believe that she’s, uh, being a bitch and actually wants to risk destroying the world in order to destroy all demons...but then she seizes back control and flings herself/Michael and Lucifer into the Pit, because she’s just That Hardcore?

which means we’d actually have had her around and having characterization for most of s4-5, too, which would be fun

More importantly, it ends with newly crowned King of Hell Wei Wuxian appointing Wen Qing as Queen-Regent and ditching to go on an indefinite honeymoon with his new angel boyfriend (they’re going to fuck for like three weeks straight, then roll up their sleeves and go conquer Heaven in the name of free will), and Jiang Cheng gets to live out his hitherto-unknown-to-himself life’s ambition to be the sugar baby of the Queen of Hell. It’s very Hades/Persephone, except he goes back down to the underworld at least once a month. He gets his own demon squad whom he trains up in all the hunting techniques and it’s gr9. Wen Qing is reforming the crossroads deal process to make it more fair to the humans.

the end

Addenda:

it should go without saying but Jiang Yanli is definitely a recurring character, like, at least once a season there’s a filler episode where they go to Jiang Yanli’s for dinner and have to get along as a family, and also do the much easier job of defeating some sort of terrible demon that gets loose in the bunker and turns the evening into a horror movie. She’s their main research/emotional check-in person, a la Bobby, more often appearing in later seasons when there’s, uhhh, more to emotionally check in about.

Jin Zixuan is actually a perfectly competent hunter; he’s just a priss and we don’t Like him

we like Mianmian, though. Oh, I guess the official Hunter’s Guild or w/e tries to declare WWX a public enemy on account of the whole “King of Hell” thing and she’s like “actually what if you’re morons and assholes?” and joins hte team in s4 or 5? Yeah.

idk how the 3zun disaster happens in this ‘verse but I do encourage it to be happening in slow motion as a recurring subplot for several seasons. NMJ is a hunter, LXC is obv an angel, and JGY is...I wanna say one of the more human monsters, like a vampire? Or, you know, something that could be born from JGS sleeping with someone/something he shouldn’t have

#mdzs #the untamed #supernatural #ficlet #my fic #spn #ugh it'll probably fuck up hte bullet points again