#which I feel is apple trying to send a message

[neil-gaiman]

hey mr gaiman. i saw that this post got revisited and wanted to address it.

i submitted this ask over a year ago on my old account and it was one of the stupidest things i ever did. it was my first tumblr account. id only been really online for a few weeks. i was 13. i was just coming back to school after a global pandemic.

ive been a fan of good omens for years and a fan of yours for longer. i was brought up reading odd and the frost giants and fortunately the milk, and as i got older i fell in love with your norse mythology book, good omens, snow glass apples, the sleeper and the spindle, and more.

i was excited to see one of my favorite authors on tumblr and tried to come up with the most bold and interesting ask i could think of.

i was rude and misinformed and it was a stupid choice of me to send it in with no thought.

but i got feedback. some in the form of kind suggestions. quite a few in the form of death threats and people telling me to kill myself.

while those specific messages were rude and hateful, the point got across. i educated myself to the best of my abilities, and eventually came back online.

not only did i misuse the term queerbaiting but i also implied that you were not an amazing supporter of the queer community. that’s absolutely incorrect. you’ve done so much for us with activism, representation, and overall kindness.

i wanted to address this ask that got so much attention because despite moving accounts i still feel guilt and shame every time i see it, or even when i interact with any of your posts at all. i need to actually address it.

also, i wanted a proper apology to be made. by no means am i now a saint. but im trying to be more thoughtful about thinking before i speak.

whether or not you decide to make a public response to this, i think ill find some peace knowing you’ve received this. ive needed closure on this for a long time.

im overjoyed and thrilled that season two is so close. thank you for tolerating the dumb questions of pretentious kids and thank you for helping to create a world where we can grow to be better than we were.

First of all, and most importantly, I'm really sorry that people were mean to you. That's awful. And nobody should ever have to deal with death threats or online threats and attacks, let alone a thirteen year old.

And secondly, you do not owe me an apology. I figure I have a Tumblr account, people ask things. Mostly they'll get nice replies, occasionally (normally when I'm being asked the same thing over and over) the replies will be terser. There has to be a certain amount of rough and tumble though, and occasionally I'll grab an ask that represents all of the asks I've had on that subject, and try and reply to all of them. That's what happened to you. I was getting tired of being accused of Queerbaiting for the occasional answer about a Season that was not yet released and about which nobody knew anything. And I needed to tell everyone who was doing this that they had to stop now. You had the misfortune to be the representative of all of the other people.

If you are not making mistakes you are not human and you are not learning anything.

(I wish there was tone of voice on the internet.)

And I think you are growing and learning and will make a fantastic adult.

I really hope you enjoy Season 2 when it drops.

[squiddyfics]

get gone

namgyu x f!reader

description: namgyu’s long hours spent at the club, wasting his life away, have gotten to you. you finally decide to leave him, but it doesn’t hurt to say goodbye first.

18+ minors dni

warnings: nsfw, angst, drugs mentioned, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation

a/n: happy valentine's day hehe

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

He broke his promise.

Namgyu's shift at the club always ends at two in the morning, but he's never home when he's supposed to be. Whenever he does finally return, his eyes are bloodshot and his mood is sour.

You couldn't stand by and watch him ruin his life, destroying his physical and mental health each weekend as he delves into a world of illicit substances and people who don't give a fuck about whether he lives or dies.

That's why you made him swear to stop staying at the club past his shift. You respect that he has a job to do, but beyond that, there's no reason for him to stay out and slowly kill himself.

Last week, he actually stuck to his word, which was a pleasant surprise. It made you hopeful that he was finally turning things around, for once prioritizing his life with you over cheap thrills.

But now it's three a.m., and he's nowhere to be seen. You run your hands over your face, attempting to stay awake. You won't be set at ease until you see him walk through the door. Each night he doesn't come home on time is a night you spend worrying that he's finally succumbed to the consequences of his actions, leaving you alone in the world.

He never texts you back on these nights, either. You open your phone and click on your text thread with him, fruitlessly hoping that things might be different tonight. Of course not; your messages remain unanswered.

You can't keep doing this anymore, can't keep caring about a man who doesn't care about himself. Up until now, you've stuck by his side, scared that if you left him he'd spiral even further. Enough is enough, though. You have a life to live, and without spending so much of your time stressing about Namgyu's well-being, you'd be much freer.

These are your last thoughts before you pass out on the couch, unable to force yourself to stay awake any longer.

The sound of keys in the door wakes you back up. When you open your eyes, it's lighter in the apartment; the sun is beginning to rise. You check the time on your phone.

6:09.

Namgyu opens the door and looks surprised to see you in the living room. You meet his eyes with a glare.

"Thanks for finally gracing me with your presence," you snap.

"Chill," he says, and the word sends a surge of anger coursing through you. "I just spent a few extra hours networking."

"Networking?" you scoff. "Is that what you call getting fucked up and partying with junkies?"

"I made hella tips," he says. "This group of super-rich dudes said they'd keep giving me money as long as I could convince the bottle-service girl to sit with them."

"Oh, okay, so now you're pimping out your coworkers. That makes me feel so much better."

He throws his keys down on the table much harder than necessary. "Are you seriously mad that I'm making money? Would you rather we get fucking evicted?"

"I'm mad that you broke my trust!" you shout back. "You were supposed to leave at two, Namgyu. You promised."

He kicks off his shoes and storms toward you. "You think I want to be out for twelve hours straight? I'm doing this for us. I would've thought you'd be grateful, but I guess that's expecting too much of you."

"Oh, fuck you." You laugh, but there's no humor behind it. "Don't try to spin this as if doing lines in the club bathroom is somehow for my sake."

"I'm playing the game," he says. "This is the world I work in; this is what you signed up for when you started dating me."

"Well, I'm done now. I'm done."

He pulls the sleeves of his slightly oversized dress shirt over his hands. Normally you'd find this cute, but right now it's just pissing you off.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm telling you I can't do this anymore," you say. "This isn't how I want to live."

"You don't mean that." He shakes his head. "You haven't slept. Let's go to bed and talk about this in the morning."

"Motherfucker, it is the morning," you spit, gesturing to the sunrise outside your window. "And I mean every word of what I'm saying to you right now. I can't stay with you; not when this is the path you're choosing for yourself."

Suddenly Namgyu's apathetic expression morphs into one of concern, and he's on his knees in front of you, grabbing your hands. "No, baby. You don't need to leave. This was the last time, I swear."

"You swore the same thing the other week, but that didn't seem to mean much to you."

"It's different this time," he says, rubbing his thumbs over your hands as if that will fix anything. "I understand now. I know you don't really want to go, so let's just talk this through, yeah?"

"You didn't even have the decency to send me a text." Your voice is smaller now. "I can't spend my nights wondering if you'll make it home in one piece. It's killing me."

"I'll change."

"It's too late," you say. "I've made up my mind."

Still kneeling in front of you, Namgyu hugs your waist, pressing his cheek against your stomach. "You can't leave me. You can't."

God, he's so fucking pathetic.

“Get off of me,” you say, but he only squeezes you tighter.

“You’re not leaving. You’re not leaving.” He says it like a prayer.

“Get the fuck up,” you tell him. “This is just sad.”

He does get up, but instead of walking away, he leans over you, pressing a desperate kiss to your lips. Despite how angry you are, you kiss him back.

He puts his hands on your waist and pulls you up so you're standing too. Your own hands find his face, fingers tracing over the features you've come to know so well, the features you'll be saying goodbye to.

As he guides you to the bedroom, still kissing you, you break apart just enough to say, "This doesn't change anything."

Namgyu throws you down on the bed and climbs on top of you, his lips and hands laying claim to every part of your body. He’s always been physically affectionate, but he’s touching you even more now, with the ravenous passion of someone who knows this could be the last time.

He kisses your neck in just the right spot, and grips your breasts with just the right amount of pressure, perfectly riding the line between pain and pleasure. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he makes you feel, but you can't help the moan that escapes your lips.

"How could you give this up?" he mutters against your skin. "No one knows your body like I do. It'll never be this good with anyone else."

You know it's true, but you don't want to think about that right now. Instead, you decide to show him what he'll be missing out on, everything he lost due to the consequences of his own reckless actions. You reach down and wrap your hand around the bulge in his pants, squeezing lightly.

He reacts to your touch instantly, rocking into you as curses fall from his lips. He grasps at the hem of your shirt, urging it off of you. "I need you."

One by one, each piece of clothing separating you and Namgyu from one another is tossed aside, until there's no barrier between you. He grinds against you, sliding his shaft along your wet slit. His cock twitches at the moan he elicits from you.

Given his obvious desperation, you expect him to fuck you without hesitation. You're surprised when he lowers his face between your legs, kissing your inner thighs.

You tangle your fingers in his hair as he licks up your slit, taunting you. You attempt to push his head to the right spot, but he's taking his sweet time. By the time his lips encircle your clit, you're already bucking and moaning like a madwoman.

"Fuck, Namgyu," you breathe.

Your reaction spurs him on, and he pushes two fingers inside you, fucking you with his hand while he continues to suck on your clit. There's no warning; you're climaxing in record time, falling apart beneath him as your high racks your body in violent waves.

Namgyu doesn't give you even a second to recover. You're still panting, your walls still clenching as he pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean before raising himself back up and slamming into you.

You cry out, but he silences you with a kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, all your senses in overdrive as he fucks you mercilessly.

"Oh god, Namgyu, hold on, I'm—" but you're cut short as another orgasm rips through your body.

You grip his hips, attempting to still him, to ease the pressure on your sensitive core, but he's relentless. He pounds into you at a shocking pace, and the overstimulation causes tears to well up in your eyes.

"Who else is gonna do this for you?" he asks through gritted teeth. "Who else is gonna fuck you until you can't think straight?"

You shake your head, unable to respond; the pleasure is overwhelming.

"Fucking answer me."

Between moans, you manage to gasp out, "No one."

Your words send him over the edge, and he finishes deep inside you with a guttural growl.

A moment later, he’s collapsing on the bed beside you. He drapes an arm and leg over you in one final weary effort to keep you by his side.

After taking a minute to catch your breath, you slip out from under his grasp and stand up. You clean yourself up quickly, then start getting dressed.

“What are you doing?” Namgyu asks, pulling on his boxers.

“I told you, I’m leaving.”

You grab a suitcase and open up the drawers of your wardrobe, stuffing clothes inside. Namgyu shoots up and rushes to your side frantically. Each time you move to grab a handful of clothes, he takes a pile of them back out of your suitcase, shoving them haphazardly back into the drawer.

“Stop it!” you shout, but he continues to unpack your suitcase, trapping you in an endless cycle. “You’re acting like a child. Let me leave or I’m calling the fucking police.”

He ceases for a moment to laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

He steps back then, finally seeming to understand the gravity of the situation. He sits down on the bed, watching as you gather up your belongings.

You grab a smaller bag and take it to the bathroom, throwing your toiletries inside. Once you’ve gotten all the necessities together, you take what’s left of your life and head down the hallway.

You hear his quick footsteps on the floor behind you, but you don’t turn around.

“Wait,” he says, his voice cracking. “Wait, please. Don’t leave me. I love you.”

You swallow hard, but you still don’t look at him. Seeing his face will only make it harder to go, and you know this is what you need to do. Without another word, you open the door and shut it behind you.

Maybe one day Namgyu will pull himself together, and maybe then a life with him will be possible. Until then, you can’t keep putting yourself through the torture of loving him.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Flower Girl (Hannibal Lecter)

Description: Y/N sends Hannibal flowers to confess her love to him.

Word Count:712

Request: hello, I’ve seen your work on #Hannibal X Reader, and I would like to make a request this request was inspired by death of sheldon Isley, Jack was talking about the flowers saying that they’re poisonous and the victim was toxic, it’s sparked an idea does Hannibal know about the flower language? it would be cute if the reader does not know how to show her emotions or explain her feelings, so she sends him anonymous bouquets of flowers to show him what she means behind these flowers. 💝

Hannibal stared at the flowers that appeared at his front door. He wasn’t exactly sure what they were as he stared at them. He took them inside to examine them, finding nothing odd with the flowers. They were very pretty and a nice color. Red Carnations was what he found as he looked up flower types. Who sent him flowers? There was no note on them or anything.

“Flowers?” Will asked Hannibal, who nodded. “Just left on your front door step?” Hannibal nodded again. “By who?” Hannibal had no idea but found it strange. They were currently working on a case that involved flowers. “I have no idea.” Y/N had walked up to them while they were talking about it. “Somebody left Hannibal flowers on his doorstep yesterday.” Will told her. She looked at Hannibal wondering if he knew what those flowers meant.

“What kind?” She asked, even though she knew. “Red Carnations.” “My heart aches for you.” She says and they both look at her. “Do you not know the flower language?” She asked them. Will shook his head, looking completely lost. “You think someone is sending me flowers to communicate?” He asked her. “A love confession.” Will said and he nearly laughed at the thought. Someone was being romantic with Hannibal and he had no idea. “Possibly.” She said. 

Each week Hannibal received different flowers that had different meanings. Each time he would look up what each flower meant. Someone was trying to tell him something. From Red Tulips (I declare my love), Apple Blossoms (I prefer you before all) to Daisies ( I love you truly) he had tons of messages through these flowers but had yet to figure out who sent them. “Put up a camera to see.” Will suggested and Y/N’s eyes widened. She would be caught for sure.

“What do you think, Y/N?” Hannibal asked her. “I-I think you should figure it out on your own, like a mystery.” She said, hoping that didn’t give her away. “Yeah but it’s been weeks, he would have figured it out by now.” Little did they know Hannibal had an idea on who he thought sent him the flowers. She was sitting with him and Will, acting oblivious to all of this. He knew something of the flower language after studying it so well and all he had to do was ask to get his answer. Will needed to leave before he could ask her and that didn’t seem to be happening anytime soon.

“I do know a lot about the language now.” He told them, noticing the blush upon Y/N’s cheeks. “It’s a fun language.” She said and Hannibal turned to her, “Do you communicate like that?” He asked but before she could answer her phone rang. She got up from the table without another word to either of them as she answered the phone. 

Hannibal waited for the week to start so he could get the flowers to know the answer. Each hour he would check to see if they were on his doorstep. They didn’t appear that day which confused him. Was she done telling him she loved him? Was being called out enough? He went to bed confused and hoped that he would get his answer soon. When he was walking out the door the next day he saw flowers on his doorstep and smiled. They were pink, which means yes.

He picked them up and took them to work with him. Y/N saw as he walked in with the flowers, her eyes widened. “What do those mean?” Will asked him as he set them on the table. “Yes.” He said and looked at Y/N. “You confirmed to me that you sent the other flowers.” He said to her, “You’re in love with me?” He asked her, forgetting Will was there as he stared at her. She stared back at him like a deer caught in headlights, not knowing what to say. She had an idea and picked up the flowers that he set down on the table. She stared at them for a second before handing them to Hannibal with a small smile on her face. Hannibal went to grab them but grabbed her hand that was holding them, it all made sense now.

[1920sladydectective]

Drabble as proof of life lmfao

Promise i will try and update Romans V Elephants soon, am very sick!

Love you Ambessa lovers, thinking of you and all the support you give xoxoxo

It had been blissful, filled with intoxicating fun as you had taken the opportunity by both hands, greedy with the promise of it.

Being loved by Ambessa Medarda was like being loved by a burning, bright star. You would orbit around her, caught in the glow. Showered with endless gifts and trips, the apple of her eye, she spared no expense. The sex was mind blowing, her ability to ruin a body shown daily in your weak ankles as you trapesed about Noxus spending the warlord’s money. Only you would hear that tender, real laugh from blood red lips, her heartbeat calm as you drifted off merged against her. Everything was perfect and fresh, even if the violence could be exhausting at times.

Stars, you learnt, burned out before your very eyes.

One day you were dropped like a hot coal, precious possessions of three years love boxed into crates and placed in a carriage. There was a conversation, if you could call it that, in which you were reduced to the very barest, worst parts of yourself. Her voice, as sharp as her blade, had carved wounds that would never heal. You meant nothing, were nothing, that was clear as glass to you now. She had tired of you, a new pretty brunette already already lingering at her feet with the same awestruck eyes as you had once worn. Back to work, her glare had said, back to being a speck of dust beneath my foot.

Sitting in your father’s bakery, long since dormant after your relocation to Ambessa’s manor, you rhythmically shredded the gentle piles of silk. What was truly valuable you would sell, left with no other choice to finance the reopening of the only livelihood you had, but these were hand made, tailored to you specifically and for that they would feel your wrath. Your training clothes were all that remained, the red turning your stomach as you worked yourself into a fit of exhaustion cleaning and resetting the space. Her life of leisure had not allowed you to idle physically, far too stretched and used for that, but cleaning and cooking were skills that had waned. Ambessa’s pity money had gone straight to a charity, and as such you had less than a week before you needed to open again, unless you fancied starving in an abandoned bakery of course.

Each step towards your old life was another flick of her pretty, glimmering blades. Nightmares plagued you, her safety now a drought in your soul. You hated her, more than anything, and that was why you cradled her old cape in the dead of night as your nose sniffed weakly. If you’d done something different, perhaps you'd still be drinking rose tea and rubbing her feet as she told you a silly battle story, a lie about a scar’s origin. Those doubts only lingered in the dark, shattered by the break of dawn. How dare she twist your own mind against you, make you the aggressor in your misery.

This was her cruelty, her bloody slaughter and you would hold her to it even as it burned your weighted lungs.

It had been two months since she had cut you loose and business was good. Your family name still held weight, your father’s recipes etched into your hands as people lamented the break from such precious sweetbread. What a shame you’d gone traveling, they’d say, and how delightful that you were back. What a fucking shame indeed. Life was hard, your aching body a shell of what it once was, as each Noxian soldier that passed through the streets made you want to cut them limb from limb, send a petulant message of your heartache.

Ambessa found herself pondering the decision each day as she retired to bed, eyes sunken as she stroked your old shawl. It would keep you safe, this distance, as she assessed her options. The Black Rose’s ability to slither into where they please made this difficult, sensitive and exhausting. Normally, your safest position was with her, but since garnering their attention pushing you out of her orbit was the clearest bet. Didn’t mean she had to like it, didn’t mean her mind didn’t replay her cutting words and your broken, desperate eyes every time she closed hers. Love was a fickle mistress and she would rather you shattered and safe than carved out in front of her, dead gazed. The bakery was thriving, according to Rictus, and you had mostly stopped getting drunk in bars so the burn in her heart could be allowed to dull into a continual ache

[nanafan707]

Apple Cider (2)

part 2!! (here’s part 1)

pairings: loser!mizu x reader

warnings: very minor themes of anxiety, sfw

summary: After getting Mizu’s number your ecstatic you and her practically call everyday growing closer and closer each day. As the song progresses, the more your feelings grow the more you both realise there’s no going back now.

word count: 1,264

It’s been about 2 weeks since you and Mizu have been texting.

TWO weeks.

Saying that "things were going well" would sure be an understatement you two were practically texting every second; Mizu was the kind of person that would accidentally leave someone on read for a whole month so this, for her, was something completely different.

Although she wasn't used to texting people, it didn't feel like a chore to her though, whenever your notification popped up she'd practically dive to her phone replying in seconds not caring if it seemed extremely desperate.You'd always send her memes of shows and games that you both had in common and she'd always laugh at them out loud even in public..which was quite embarrassing but she was too content to care.

Mizu would always send you pictures of her dog, which always made you smile in fact any message from Mizu always had you beaming from ear to ear even before you've opened the message to see what she said.

Alas, it was the evening you were finishing up some coursework that was due and your phone buzzed.

It was mizu.

You gleefully picked up your phone and opened the message that read; "hey uhh do you wanna call? just for aa friendly chat? only if your free though haha uni work has everyone on a chokehold atm lol 😓"

You giggled aloud hearing her rambling rusty voice coming through the text message and you instantly replied, "sure!!! I can call now? ^^"

Mizu's phone begins buzzing and she immediately picks up and she sees you on face time.

"hey! sorry for calling so late oh uh its midnight i just realised haha wow um what are you up to?" She managed to sputter out in a incoherent state of mind to which you found amusing.

Laughing you responded "Call me at midnight everyday for all I care I love talking to you!!" easing Mizu's nervous outlook.

You both begin talking to each other for the next 4 hours neither one of you wanting to leave the call just wishing that you two could just stay in this oddly comforting moment forever making you both having the thought of "Lets give this thing a try".

After the call ended Mizu just ended up laying on her bed staring at her ceiling reviewing every single detail of the call from every pore on your face to your sultry voice that had Mizu in a chokehold.Even though Mizu looked like a mess, to herself not you, you had still complemented her a bunch which got her kicking her feet saying stuff like "you said you liked my hair" aloud knowing that she'll defintely style her hair like that whenever she goes out of her dorm incase she bumps into you.

You both made plans to sit together at lunch and in the next period as you both had a free which made you both extremely giddy.

You were getting ready and saw the sweater you wore at akemi’s sleepover remembering how mizu complemented it even asking where you got it from so you threw that on yourself today.

There by the tree in the middle of the uni stood Mizu, with the wind blowing through the cuticles of her hair exposing her sharp yet elegant facial features causing a slight redness to dust on your cheek.Your heart sped up..you've never felt this way before about anyone let alone someone you just met 2 weeks ago? you must be going crazy.

Frozen in time Mizu turned her head and her gaze landed on you.

It felt like you both were staring at each other for eternity until someone bumped into you spilling coffee on you before walking away unapologetically.This causes Mizu to quickly speed walk towards you immediately asking if you were okay.

"You said you liked my jumper so I always wore it aw man I can’t no more" you sighed out without thinking which earned a hearty laugh from mizu that caused you to laugh with her.

Mizu and you walked around campus together both joyfully chatting away at numerous different topics that you both had in common as well as learning more about each other. Every time you both bumped into one another you'd both say sorry at the same time causing you both to giggle in unison as if you were already a couple best friends of many years.

Lunch soon came to and end and so did that free period, much sooner than you both anticipated.As you were walking around campus, you had gone in a full circle ending up by the same tree that you agreed to meet up near causing Mizu to overthink every action that happened today.

"oh its almost second period..I need to get to my lecture.. sorry about your jumper it probably wouldn’t have gotten ruined if we didn’t meet up here" mizu hushly uttered out.

You immediately cupped both of her hands together interrupting her, "No, I had a wonderful time I don’t care about some stupid sweater, It's really nice to talk to you"

Mizu tensed up when you held her hand not used to physical contact causing you to let go in embarrassment adding "haha sorry".

"No its okay" Mizu answered with an unreadable facial expression, "its really nice to hold your hand" she softly muttered out unaware that you could hear her.

Your breath hitched, and adrenaline rushed to your cheeks as you froze, unsure whether to respond. The warmth of her hand in yours felt almost too real, too perfect. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath with you. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, the silence between you thick with unspoken words.

Finally, you looked up, meeting her gaze, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "I... I feel the same way," you whispered, hoping your voice wasn’t too shaky and that she could maybe read between the lines.

Her eyes became shakey, and you both stood there, the unspoken connection between you louder than anything either of you had said.

part 3

sorry for it being unreasonably late i couldn’t think of anything to write & i was busy with exams 💔

but i know that there will be 4 parts so 2 more parts!!

part 3 is out <3

@violettomanocu @lavenderlili

(banner from tgswiiwagaa)

[floatingaimlessly333]

NikPrice who are trying desperately to have date night but keep getting interrupted by their children asking questions through the ring camera

The worst part is that the questions start before the couple even leaves the house.

Nik is styling his hair and John is grabbing everything they need to head out when they both get the first ring notification of many to come.

Alex: I’m heading to Tesco, do you guys need anything?

John, over the speaker: No, we’re good, lad. Maybe ask your siblings.

Alex: Will do. Have fun on your date!

The next comes seconds before Nik pulls out of the driveway.

Gary: Did you buy any apple juice yesterday? Also, if there’s free bread at the restaurant, you should steal some.

John: Gary, we’re right behind you, you didn’t need to use the camera.

Gary: *looks at his dads in the car and then back at the camera, staring deeply into it*

John, sighing: Yes, there’s apple juice in the pantry. And we’ll try and bring home some breadsticks.

Gary: Okay! Bye, love you!! *runs back inside*

They manage to get seated at the restaurant before the next notification goes through.

Simon: Hey dads, can Johnny and I take Captain for a drive?

John is about to turn on the microphone and give a firm ‘absolutely not’ when Simon starts talking again.

Simon: I’m gonna take your silence as a ‘yes.’ Bye dads, see you later!

Before either man can react, he and Captain are sprinting off the porch and hopping into Johnny’s waiting car.

Nik, chuckling: When did that boy get so bold?

John, exasperated: I’m entirely blaming this behavior on you. You’ve always had a penchant for giving me headaches.

Nik just laughs louder.

After that, a new alert pops up consistently every 10 to 15 minutes. And everytime it’s something that very easily could have been said over text.

Gaz asking if a few of his football mates could come over to play video games.

Farah and Valeria arguing over which movie to should watch and trying to get another opinion.

Gary trying to convince them that he should be able to have more pet cockroaches.

Alex asking if his running leg would look more impressive to his crush (even though it’s really not meant for regular walking).

The fathers look at each video message with fond but very tired sighs. Their next date is definitely going to be a ‘no phones’ affair.

Their phones ding once again as they’re handed the check. It’s Simon, and he’s holding Captain up to the camera like the massive dog weighs nothing.

Simon: Captain wants ice cream. But, he’s a dog, and therefore has no money, so…

John doesn’t even answer, he just sends Si £20.

Si stands at the doorbell until he gets the notification that the money went through.

Simon: Thanks dad! Love you!! *he runs back to the car*

After that, all is quiet. And that makes both men very suspicious. When they get home, the house is still and quiet. Which is incredibly suspicious.

Worried that their children have someone managed to murder each other in the hour and a half that they were gone, they approach the house with caution. John is tense when they reach the door, and it almost feels like he’s back in his military days again, about to breach an enemy’s safe house.

He unlocks the door and lets it slowly swing open. Once he catches sight of the living room, he’s almost brought to tears.

The two large living room couches have been pushed together and piled high with blankets and pillows. The coffee table holds their favorite ice creams and wine, and the tv is cued up with a movie they’ve been meaning to watch for ages.

Nik turns to John with tears in his own eyes, but is cut off by the ring camera.

The image that greets them is all of their kids standing out on the porch.

Alex: We know we kept bothering you guys during dinner, so we thought we’d make dessert a little more peaceful.

Farah: Si, Gary, and Gaz are staying at Johnny’s. Alex is coming with me to Valeria’s. Enjoy your night. We love you.

A chorus of ‘love yous’ can be heard and then they head off their separate ways.

Nik, wrapping his arm around John: Those sneaky little shits. They must have used the back door.

John, giving Nik a kiss on the cheek: Maybe we should get a camera for out there too. The first one turned out to be a pretty good purchase.

(I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG THE LAST COUPLE WEEKS HAVE BEEN STRESSFUL 😭😭😭)(BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Can we have bestfriend headcanons for rollo please???? i need to be friends with this guy so bad you don't understand

***Warning: Glorious Masquerade spoilers in the final few headcanons!***

Curiouser and Curiouser...

The best way to sum up this relationship is that Rollo is the mom friend, and you are his child. (If you were to ask Rollo, he would say you're an idiot, but you're his idiot.)

From an outsider's perspective, it's hard to tell that you're friends at all. He always has that hard-to-read face on him, plus those grimaces he gets whenever the slightest annoyance or inconvenience makes itself known.

You've gotten used to his quirks though, so you can read his emotions a lot better than most. When the corners of his mouth twitch, that's him trying to smile! When he taps a finger against his arm? He's thinking hard about something.

He dislikes it when you call him "bestie" (so, of course, you make sure to do it often). Rollo corrects you with his name each and every time.

He finds physical affection just as repulsive. Rollo's constantly shying away from your touch, insisting that it's unhygienic and immodest to even so much as brush shoulders by accident.

There was an incident when you hugged him once and he got oddly quiet, then asked "... What is this?" to which you had casually responded, "Affection."

"Disgusting," Rollo had declared, handkerchief to his nose. "... Do it again."

He's one of those old-fashioned people who insists on keeping in contact via letters and cards instead of text messages, email, and/or social media. Rollo claims that stuff "rots your brain cells" and "promotes a vain, degenerate lifestyle".

You thought it silly and inefficient at first, but over time you've come to appreciate the time and thought that comes with each letter. Receiving a note from Rollo is the best part of your day--you love catching up with him and sending him back updates of your very own.

He's a busy guy and follows a strict schedule, so more often than not you're the one that's following him around as he does his various tasks. You lend him a hand too, though Rollo takes care to not burden you too much. These are his responsibilities, so he should take charge of them.

You occasionally climb up the bell tower with him (the view up there is amazing!) and all the gargoyles clamor to greet you. Rollo has to remind them not to overwhelm the guest.

When there is time, you sit down at a cafe and share a meal. Rollo introduces you to his favorite places and makes recommendations (though he usually gets the exact same thing). You try to push him to vary up his diet a bit more, tearing off pieces of your own lunch or offering him bites of whatever it is you're having (even though he insists he'll have none of that).

One day, you caught Rollo parading through the streets on horseback. He introduced his steed to you, instructing you on how to safely pat it and feed it an apple from your hand. The horse seemed to like you, so Rollo hoisted you up and let you ride it around the city for the rest of the day.

He's still not very good at expressing himself. When you sense that he's feeling down in the dumps, it takes quite a bit of coaxing to get him to talk about it with you (if at all). In his mind, he shouldn't be troubling others with his own matters.

Sometimes you're not successful at convincing him to open up, so you settle for giving a gentle reminder that you'll be there for him no matter what. You wouldn't want to push him to talk when he's not ready to!

... On the other hand, when Rollo wants to talk, he'll rant and rave for what seems like forever. You patiently nod your head and listen to everything he spews out, from his express hatred of a certain lizard to how the local goats almost ate his stationary set.

There are rare times, though, when Rollo shares his passions and ambitions with you. The relaxing gardening he has been doing as of late, how beautiful the Bell of Salvation is today, his plans for the future... It's in these moments that you can truly appreciate how solemn and thoughtful he can be.

Rollo often nags you for little things: there's a crease in your shirt, your room is slightly messy, there's a hair out of place, etc. But hey, it's fine. You know he does it lovingly, even if the comments come with a slight frown.

He also tends to lecture you about your own safety, often warning you to keep away from "suspicious individuals" (and, of course, mages). Rollo lets you know that if anyone gives you trouble, you should inform him right away and he'll come storming over to give them hell. Yes, he's the overprotective friend that will throw himself into the crossfires to defend your honor--

This man comes to hangouts with everything you could possibly need in case of an emergency. Got a scrape? Boom, first aid kit. (He even patches you up personally.) Hands dirty? Hand sanitizer and wet wipes for the rescue. You start calling him “dad” as a joke every time he produces exactly what you need.

Rollo has the tendency to (sternly) speak up for you, especially in cases when you're too meek to speak up for yourself. It has big "EXCUSE ME! They asked for no pickles" energy.

Once a year, you join Rollo for a very special trip. You always stop by the same florist's shop, always watch him select the same bouquet of white lilies, always walk quietly alongside him down to the local cemetery. You don't follow him to the grave, but you let him know he can take as long as he needs with the visit, that you'll wait for him at the gates.

You watch the clouds slowly pass by and the sky change colors from cornflower blue to the shades of sunset. Night has started to trickle in when you hear his approaching footsteps. The flower bouquet is gone, deposited as an offering to a boy that has become one with the stars.

Rollo emerges, and you pretend to not notice the wetness to his eyes, the silvery shine upon his cheeks. You know if you point it out, he'll only become defensive and deny it.

"Ready to go?" you ask every year.

"... Yes," he replies, just the same as always. (Rollo will then try to subtly wipe away at his tears.) "Thank you for accompanying me. I do apologize for imposing on your time."

"Don't," you tell him. "I've always got your back, just like you've always got mine. That's what friends are for, right?"

[homestuckreplay]

i bet the SORD….. deals negative damage to enemies

(page 1817-1828)

After a long four days without updates (it’s convention season), Homestuck is BACK and I am so excited to be back. We pick back up with this beautiful panel of Jade’s dreambot surrounded by clouds, stars, lilypads… and frogs. Frogs which have previously been referred to as ‘Cherished Idol[s]’ that ‘play a special role in [John’s] quest’ but are also ‘ILLEGAL CONTRABAND’ (p.1358), and are simultaneously ‘sacred/illicit’ (p.1359). So the fact that they’re just hanging out here on Jade’s very Skaia-influenced island, hours at most before her entry into the Medium, has to be relevant.

Jade has built Dave’s house up to the First Gate here, and we previously saw Dave so the same to Rose’s (p.1689) so everyone is ready to progress in the game except for Jade herself, who’s stuck until John finds that disc. Jade is also directly in the narrative text again, which isn’t even weird because she’s so used to engaging with cosmic forces far beyond her control, I just find it worth noting each time. Finally, Jade has an entourage of Prospit agents watching her build, which is very cute. Maybe this tweet from a day before this page was posted has something to do with it.

Jade then reveals that her ‘neighbor in the other tower is supposed to be waking up soon’ (p.1819) which simply does not feel right. John has such a full schedule – he’s in the veil, he needs to do some ectobiology that he put on the suit for, he needs to talk to carcinoGeneticist again, he needs to go back to LOWAS, find the server disc and get Jade into the Medium, he needs to tell his friends about this Reckoning that’s about to happen, he might still be trying to save his dad, and now he’s also got to take a nap?? Of course he should sleep if he’s tired but his to do list within the story is REALLY piling up while everyone else is just alchemizing and building. We gotta cut back to John soon because I’m worried about him.

Then, Dave wakes up and starts alchemizing, and gets a little weird with it. He has more base materials to work with than Rose as he has all of future Dave’s stuff and I think he’s also less interested in being economical with grist, so here’s what he’s made so far.

iShades (Sunglasses && iPhone) – I think there is no need to give Apple this free publicity but it is cute that the Daves now have matching sunglasses.

Turntop (Timetables && Computer) – oh it has time powers you say?? perhaps the power to send messages through time? That almost doesn’t seem right because I feel like future Dave would have sent messages to his friends in the past if he later developed that power. Still, it’s possible the trolls did get those powers through some smart alchemy combinations. Anyway the two half keyboards feel intrinsically wrong somehow even though I know in my heart that is how typing works.

Red Plush Puppet Tux (Suit || Red Smuppet) – Hey Dave, why exactly do you want to wear a puppet? Why do you wanna be wrapped in the thing that’s tormented you your whole life? Also much like Rose’s velvet/wool dress, this thing will get WAY too hot for adventuring. These kids have never heard of breathable fabrics and Dave is on a lava planet. Dave also speculates about how the original suit was made, ending with ‘That's how you would have made it anyway.’ (p.1823). I don’t think this will get answered but I’d personally like it if Dave was wrong about this, just like he was wrong when he told John Davesprite ‘wouldnt give a shit’ about being told he wasn’t the real Dave (p.1692). Honestly I think that past versions of me would also misunderstand and misinterpret my current self so seeing that played out with Dave, especially when he’s so confident he’s right, is super interesting to me.

Broken Scarlet Ribbitar (Broken Caledscratch && Ruby Frog) – This is the first time we’ve seen the name of Dave’s sword, ‘Caledscratch’. A quick search for ‘caled sword’ pulls up a 2008 Arthurian mythology article saying that Caledfwlch was the early Welsh name for Excalibur, and Caladbolg was a sword belonging to an Irish folk hero, both from the Welsh/Irish word for ‘hard’. So ‘Caledscratch’ = ‘hard scratch’ which, yeah, that’s exactly what a sword does I guess. ‘Scratch’ could also refer to a record scratch, appropriate for the record on its hilt. Sometimes the names of things in this comic annoy me because in all my years of DMing I’ve never come up with anything this good.

Scarlet Ribbitar (Unbroken Caledscratch && Ruby Frog) – This is confirmation on how the sword actually works – Dave ‘dial[s] back CALEDSCRATCH'S little turntable, rewinding the sword to a point in its history before it was broken’ (p.1826). This was sort of implied by seeing it in action during ‘[S] Dave: Accelerate’ (p.1641) but it stated outright here. Anyway, neither this or the broken version get made because they cost millions of a mystery grist, perhaps a frog themed grist given the importance of frogs. Either way, I think combining anything with a frog will be an expensive item. Also I’d love to see what the reverse combination (Caledscratch || Ruby Frog) would look like – a frog with a sword for a tongue that can rewind/fast forward between tadpole and frog??

SORD….. – (Prop Sword && Hella Jeff) – This costs 0 grist and is completely unusable as a weapon. Sburb is like I don’t care just have this and get it away from my fancy technology. The fact that it turns not only the sword but also Dave himself and the panel he’s in to a SBAHJ quality level - and turns the alchemiter display font to Comic Sans - is potentially very disturbing, and could maybe be weaponized (for example, prototyping a sprite with a SORD….. might depower enemies a whole lot). I actually really badly want to make a SORD….. in real life and to cosplay this version of Dave at Comic Con this fall or something even though I super don’t have the time/money. Its design is as compelling as it is ridiculous.

Snoop Dogg Snow Cone Machete (Snoop && Air Conditioner || Caledscratch) – Okay I was confused about the Peanuts characters but having researched this, Snoop Dogg was a big fan of Peanuts and took his name from Snoopy, so it does make sense, even though I think Dave would find Peanuts way too earnest. I guess it makes sense for Dave to make an ice themed weapon given the heat of his planet, but this honestly reminds me of John’s Wrinklefucker (p.1068) – it’s a cool idea and looks useful, but doesn’t perfectly fit the character’s vibe.

To be continued, probably. We haven’t yet seen a panel of Dave surrounded by all his sweet loot so I’m sure he has more up his sleeve.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for calling a (now ex-) mutual a stingy asshole?

So to start, I (NB20) am in a pretty rough situation, I'm facing homelessness soon, transphobia at home and work and my hours have been getting cut resulting in me making even less money that can sustain me. I have a toyhou.se forum post up stating I have emergency commissions open to help me out and to please support me if you can. This is where the situation begins. I have a mutual on toyhou.se who I'll call Apple (MTF22) I talk to sometimes to the point I'd say we are friends, not super close but friends nonetheless. She made a bulletin telling people about my commissions and to please comm me if they could which I'm very grateful for since I did get a few customers from her because of that. The thing is, a few weeks later, she made a bulletin talking about how happy she was so many commissions she bought were finished around the same time and posted all of them with the artists tagged in the post. It was honestly... quite a few, I'm talking like 9 pieces of art of her fursona and even a custom vtuber model she got of her sona. I was going to reply all happy for her, but it made me think... how much did she spend on those commissions?? So I went through all the artists socials to find their commission prices and came to a total of fucking $385!!! More than half of my current goal I'm trying to make through commissions to stay out of homelessness!! So I messaged Apple saying since I saw she bought a few commissions if she was interested in buying a comm from me. She replies saying "Ohh! I'd love to <333 but im just not in a place to buy any more comms right now :< sorry >.<!!" So I casually reply really? because it seems like your in the perfect place to help me out after already spending over $300 in commissions. She tells me she's sorry and really wishes someone would be able to help me out but she just wasn't that interested in my art or a custom to which I tell her she could've easily donated to my ko-fi which I have always had since she clearly has money to spend? To this, she straight up IP blocks me. So still fucking annoyed, I vented in a discord server I share with a few friends from being in a few shared CS together, saying how annoying it is rich assholes like her would drop half a thousand for a picture of their fursona but don't even blink twice at their so called friends. anyway, one of my friends takes a look at Apples th profile and notices she has a new bulletin up and sends me a screenshot, but anways the bulletin reads like "hey!! just saying, but please dont come into my dms acting like you know my financial situation better than i do, just because i buy a lot of commissions doesnt mean im made of money! and please dont think that me commisioning artist 1 means i hate artist 2? thats so weird, thanks!!!!!" and seeing all their subscribers just kissing her ass pissed me off so i made my own bulletin that just stated "i thought it was pretty fucking weird to know how bad ur friend's situation was and to go buy a bunch of comms instead of buying a comm from or even throwing a buck to help me out? like yeah im gonna think i know ur situation better than u, you stingy fuck!!!" Anyway, she mustve been block evading (which I reported her for) since she unblocked me, took a screenshot of my bulletin, then went on about how she lived in an abusive household; her dad had thrown her into a sink and chipped her tooth, bruised half her face and scarred it pretty badly. She bought a bunch of commissions immediately afterwards in a panic to make herself feel better, paying everything with her savings. Which to me.. isn't an excuse. Ive been hit and abused and still found scraps of money to pull together to give to mutuals who need it and Ive been bumping my own post like crazy and she had literal weeks to donate or comm me. Not to mention Ive had exmutuals of hers come to me saying that shes never donated anything to them either despite advertising their posts but always had money for plushies, comms and other crap, meaning Im not alone in thinking shes a stingy asshole. This is getting long, so here, tumblr AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[numberonetacostan]

I don't rly see this talked a lot but I absolutely love the differences between the two bowties that Taco/Apple wear and Mic/Mepad wear!!

The black invisibow (I absolutely love that name-) has sharp edges but a circular middle while the white one has a softer edges with a sharper middle. I feel like this is sort of giving us a message with Taco and Mic and their personality’s, Taco is rude, uncaring and betraying in nature and whoever speaks to her, but has a soft middle (literally!). She truly does care for those close to her even if she doesn't exactly know how to show it correctly (which we see the most in truth or flare- wanting to cause a bit of trouble like always yes, but still very concerned for the well-being of contestants like Suitcase). On the other hand there's Mic, she's kind, a bit naive and still and always will care about those around her (like how she never wanted to hurt balloon, she trys her best to win challenges not just for her but for her team, and how she was even able to bring out kindness in Taco). But she does have a tendency to be rude and "sharp" when she needs to, and it shows the most when she eventually cuts off taco (and also when she gets mad at herself in her diary or at Cheesys crap however I can't blame her on that lol)

These parallels even show with Apple and Mepad!! Mepad is well, Mepad I don't think that needs explanation (live, laugh, Love Mepad) but we definitely see a little bit of his sass when working with Taco and definitely when cutting ties with Mephone4. And then there's Apple, although I've never rly payed attention to her all that much I do notice that when hurt she lashes out and is quite rude (we see this most with Marsh) but is also extremely loving to those who befriend her (and obsessive as well, again look at her interactions with Marsh). And hell I can even say the same with Bow herself but you probably get the point-

Am I reading to deep into this? Probably but I'm so hyperfixed on this gosh darn show and these characters to gaf. Hope you enjoyed this little rant!! :D

-⭐️🍓 (Ik I just sent a ask a few days ago but I just had to share this discovery!! :3)

Hi Starfruit!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for submitting an ask!! :] No worries that you sent an ask a few days ago, you're free to send in as many as you want as long as you following the rules!! <3

Bowtie time!! I do love how they reflect the personalities of their wearers, especially tacomic!!! I mean, it's me so obviously I'm going to love the tacomic, but they're just so well designed!!

Also, yeah, Mic is so patient actually. With all the chances she gives Taco, that Taco needs because she has a lot to learn(!), and the fact that is takes her so long to yell at Cheesy, she tends to give people a lot of grace! I would have killed Cheesy if he was talking to me like that. I'd eat him. I'm mostly joking but I'd get so fed up with him.

Live, laugh, love Mepad!!! He's generally a super patient and understanding guy, but we see that firmness and sternly protective spirit come out when he's arguing for Taco's revival and standing in front of the contestants & Mephone4 in the finale. I'm sad now. I miss him so much!!!! Mepad plush WHEN I need 12. Uh yes apple!! Apple can be rough around the edges but is genuinely just a babey I think.

I did, indeed, enjoy your little rant!!!!

[fleckcmscott]

All Wrapped Up

Summary: Arthur reaches a milestone he'd never dreamed of. Y/N pulls out all the stops.

Words: 4,735

Warnings: Adult situations, Swearing

A/N: This story was a real challenge. Figuring out these characters, their hopes and experiences and dynamics fifteen years later, felt like trying to predict the weather. And I never have an umbrella when I need it! 😂 I hope you all enjoy this piece. Thanks for reading! 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Y/N gave her mouth another good swish-swash-swish and spat in the sink.

Lukewarm water rinsed her Oral-B toothbrush; she it shook off and returned to its charger. She drew a round brush through steely brown locks, a dollop of mousse in the bristles to lend the feathering a touch of fluff.

Three perfume bottles stood on the shelf to her left. She chose the pink tapered oval in the middle, a gift from Arthur called Here's The Heart, the fragrance of daffodils and sunlight and his latest favorite. She dabbed it on her wrists, her collarbone, the pulse point of her neck. Sandy shadow brightened her eyes and rosewine painted her lips, a sultry red saved for special occasions.

Crouched on one knee, she dug out the personal lubricant hidden behind her tampons, which had been on standby for two months. (Alarm had frozen her solid when her monthly had hit six weeks late. But then she'd remembered that at fifty-four, it was to be expected.) She smeared an ounce between her legs. A warmup for both their benefit - and a sure ego boost that'd rev his engine. Make him grin that cocky grin.

Glass of water in hand, she padded out of the bath.

She tiptoed to her side of the bed and set the water on the nightstand. Morning's first light seeped past the edges of the window shades. She gave one a quick but quiet pull, held the bottom bar until it rose halfway.

Soft and gauzy as a favorite dream, sunrays cast a hazy hue on Arthur's pallid skin. A light snore caught in the back of his throat. He lay supine, one hand curled against his breast, the toes of his left foot sticking out from the emerald, blue, and mauve kaleidoscoped comforter. The perfect position for what she had planned.

Biting down a wicked giggle, she shimmied out of her robe and dove under the covers headfirst.

Muted confusion from above. Grumbles and groans. A skinny thigh shifted beneath her palm. She swallowed around him and continued on.

Fingertips patted polyester, as though searching for a flashlight in the dark. At her back, her shoulder, her head.

A squeeze to his sculpted hip, nails a whisper along his v-line...

The comforter lifted, followed by the sheet. Arthur squinted through the crevice. "Christ, you're naked."

The giggle she'd bitten down spilled forth, nose nuzzling at his coarse curls. He grasped her upper arm and tugged.

"What did you expect?" She crawled up his body, lips following a familiar path along his stomach, his chest. "You only turn fifty once. Happy birthday."

"Mmm." In a flash, he grabbed her ass and rolled on top of her. Kissed her softly, then kissed her hardly, mouth swooping to collide with hers. He tasted of stale nicotine and the smell of rust after a rainstorm. She sought to freshen it with her Aquafreshed tongue.

But he broke off, coughed into his elbow. A smoker's cough that'd worsened with the chill of November and the radiator heat that accompanied it. She decided to give him his second present early, right after this gift for them both.

When he stole the water from her nightstand, she narrowed her eyes. "Hey, I was planning on using that."

"I know." Green irises met hers, a direct stare that set the pit of her stomach in a wild swirl. That stare stayed locked on hers as he emptied the glass. Slow, deliberate, his Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow.

She played with the spartan hairs on his chest. "I noticed a couple grey hairs while I was down there. You're officially an old man now."

"You mean I'm finally catching up to you?"

"Uh huh." Her toes ran along his calf. Its muscle twitched. "You're going to start getting flyers from Gotham's Senior League and the Elk's Club."

Amusement crinkled his face, half-lidded eyes enthralling in their relaxed contentment. While his black whiskers had gone white, his sideburns remained sterling, his loose curls cinnamon and sugar. Lines had become faint tattoos on his forehead, and the crevices on his cheeks had grown longer, deeper, framing his thin lips and doubling his dimples. Wrinkles crisscrossed the bottom of his chin, and the fold beneath it was twelve percent squishier.

But he was as alluring as ever. As handsome as the night she'd first lain in this very bed with him.

Desire swelled her heart, a thump-thump that was suddenly ten times louder.

She clutched his shoulders and purred. "Fuck me, old man."

Laughing, he took hold of the headboard.

And took charge.

~~~~~

"During our last session, you talked about how challenging turning fifty would be." Dr. Ludlow spoke around the ballpoint pen in her mouth. "How are you doing now that the day is here?"

Blurs from this morning seared Arthur's memory, the saltiness of sweat and skin. He felt the fierce heat of a blush and gulped the brazen images away. "I feel good."

"That's great." She lowered herself to her armchair and put her stoneware mug opposite the ashtray on the coffee table. Planted her pen firmly between forefinger and thumb. "How have you worked through last month's feelings?"

"Um, I dunno. I've written in my journal a lot."

"Take a minute to think it over. We've discussed how milestones can trigger mood swings. What's been your strategy to avoid that, and what does your birthday mean to you today?"

He shoved the tip of his tongue in the fleshy part of his cheek.

Fifty. He'd never imagined reaching fifty. Forty-five maybe, just old enough for his body to start falling apart to match his mind. Even when he'd crawled out of bouts of malaise and hadn't wanted to die, the age had remained as intangible as a good reputation and the clout that went with it.

Business was slow but stable. Kids were losing interest in clowns, preferring cartoon characters or Barney or Power Rangers, whatever the hell they were. Birthday parties were getting slimmer, special events and holidays were getting busier. He had a reliable list of regulars. It all evened out.

But his heart remained devoted to his first love - comedy. He'd been chasing that dream for fifteen years. With stardom continuing to elude him, the event horizon of his fifth decade felt like a sign the time to achieve it was running out.

He tapped his Stutton over the ashtray. "I want things I haven't gotten yet. Being a famous standup, you know? Everything comes so easily for some people, and I've been working and working and-" A flinch against the sinewy frustration rising in his breast. God, why did therapy sometimes make him feel worse? Couldn't he skip the soul-searching on his special day? Why hadn't he rescheduled when she'd offered? He breathed on a 3-4-5 count. "I'm trying to remember I can't see the future. Just what I want it to be."

Her pen jotted. "I wonder what your life would look like if you were famous. What you would get out of it."

"I've told you," he said, glancing at her in disbelief. How could he make it any clearer? "I'd make people smile. They'd know who I am, that I'm funny and good."

"Don't you have that now?"

"What do you mean?"

"The people in your life. Y/N, your friends, your family in Missouri. They know you, that you're funny and good. What difference would fame make?" Each syllable pricked, firm but kind points that dulled to prods.

He hesitated, measuring himself. Found he felt about six inches short and not a little pathetic for having the same longings as the lost, lonely man he'd thought he'd left behind. Ancient insecurities aroused, he tucked his hands under his thighs.

After a moment, Dr. Ludlow set her legal pad on the table and moved to sit on the sofa. She left a professional one cushion space between them. "Goals give us a sense of purpose, a way to navigate tough times. Having them is one of the reasons you've done so well. But what I'm hearing is that you want acceptance. You want to be loved." A beat. "You already have that, Arthur. Don't forget it."

His throat shrank to a straw. Her words carried a reality he no longer doubted; he'd lived enough for them to be more than theory. But spoken aloud by a witness to his life, they were engraved with the power of unvarnished truth A truth he could revel in, relax in, cherish and count on.

A truth that brought him joy the way nothing else could.

There was his ever-present wife. The million dollar baby he'd found in the freezer section of a grocery store. She'd made a mistake after their earlier lovemaking, but mistakes were part and parcel of years together, so it'd been all right. Her reasons had been sweet, and she'd promised not to repeat it.

And a card from his in-laws had arrived last week, happiness in a mint green envelope. A bluebird in a mulberry bush wished that on his birthday, he'd find everything he desired, no matter how small. Tangible proof that he mattered, that they were thinking of him even hundreds of miles away.

Wetness burned the outer corners of his eyes. He swiped at them with the sleeve of his cardigan. Hitched chuckles built in him, like the climbing roar of applause at the end of a successful set.

He was fifty and he was loved.

Dr. Ludlow offered a box of tissues. In a tone woven with kindness she asked, "Would you like to talk about your plans to celebrate, or keep them for your journal?"

~~~~~

Kneeling on the back of the red, round booth, Y/N reached to hang the Happy Birthday banner on the wall. "Is it even?"

Patricia spoke from two yards behind her. "If Arthur tilts his head."

A chuckle on her lips and a song in her heart, Y/N slid the Y three inches lower and stuck it with a pin. One of the perks of being a long-time regular at Kao-Wah's was the ability to commandeer the back corner, the one by the bar. (That it was an uncrowded Thursday didn't hurt.)

After this morning's misstep, she was determined to make this evening perfect.

She climbed down backwards, kitten heel brushing padded vinyl before finding the floor. She pushed a four-top against the booth's six-top table, just the right amount of space for guests, and the cake Patricia had helped her make. Mandarin with homemade frosting, made with unsalted butter, powdered sugar, milk, and canned oranges. Ingredients Y/N could handle with a best friend.

Patricia ripped open two crepe streamers, one teal and one yellow. "Has he seen you in that yet?" She indicated Y/N's outfit with a nod.

Her dress was a number she'd picked up at L. Ballinger's summer closeout. Tiered Chantilly lace, ivory, with a dropped bodice and long sleeves, it revealed enough to remind Arthur of what she was hiding. Pretty and feminine, swingy and fun. She took the end of the streamers, walked backwards to unroll and twist them together. "I saved it for tonight."

"You'll knock him dead," Patricia said with a wink.

Y/N taped the crepe paper along the chairs, akin to a velvet rope at a red carpet announcing a Very Important Person was on the way. A small bundle of balloons rose from each end of the table, completing the cheery decor. Hand on one hip, she surveyed their handiwork and smiled.

Patricia ordered two sparking wines and took a seat at the bar. "When Robert turned fifty, I planned a romantic evening to celebrate. Strawberries dipped in chocolate, massage oils, rose petals in the bathtub, the works. Well, I'm in the tub waiting for him to come home - he refused to take the day off - candles all around the room.

"The front door opens, and I straighten my legs and stick out my chest like a pinup. He stumbles in, drenched in oil and coolant, and he says, 'What the hell are you doing? I need a shower!'" Shoulders shaking with laughter, she wagged her head. "He hopped in there, rose petals and all, all the while I'm running around blowing out candles before the shower curtain goes up in flames. I'd never moved so fast. And I thought life at fifty would be boring."

"You're the most exciting old dame I've ever met." Y/N pecked her cheek and slid onto the stool beside her. There was a gold serving basket brimming with fortune cookies to her left. She snagged one from the middle, cracked it open, and popped the sugary wafer in her mouth. Ears filled with crunching, she read the bit of wisdom contained within: You cannot love life until you live the life you love.

An unexpected but welcome melancholy washed over her. The ripples of her life had ebbed and flowed, but living with Arthur was a steady joy. He was very much the man she'd fallen in love with. Gentle with a streak of shyness but determined to speak up and pursue what he desired. But he'd grown, too. Exited the purgatory between adulthood and adolescence neglect had locked him in. He'd learned to trust himself, to like himself on good days, now the vast majority.

She folded the fortune, to be placed in her purse with her compact and pager. "I can't imagine ever being bored with Arthur. I'm proud of him. He's done a lot of work to get here. I'm lucky I've been the one to see him do it."

"You haven't just seen it. You've helped."

Her insides twirled, a pleasant tickling at her navel. "We've helped each other." She sipped at the wine glass and continued. "There is one other thing I've been trying to help him with. Maybe you'll have an idea..."

Y/N went over the scene of the crime, albeit without the salacious (Patricia would have called them fun) details. She'd started in right as Arthur'd pulled his briefs past his knees. He must have recognized the shape and weight of a cassette booklet. Irises sparkling, he'd asked what music collection she'd gotten for his Walkman.

He'd ripped the balloon patterned wrapping paper from the squeaky plastic. Squinted down at tiny red letters on white tapes.

"'Stop smoking with the Gotham Lung Association?'"

He pushed them away and rolled his eyes. Stood and yanked his underwear over his hips. "I wish you'd stop using special occasions for that. Telling me to quit smoking. Especially on my birthday. I'm down to half a pack a day!" He grabbed his pajama bottoms from the vanity. "I know you don't like it. You haven't liked it for fifteen years."

"But I need five more decades of you," she'd said, clambering on hands and knees to his side of the bed. She'd caught his pantleg, drew him to her a with a gentle tug. Despite her tenderness, annoyance kept his brows furrowed.

She'd pecked his thumb, the back of his hand, the knobby part of his wrist. Then her gaze had lifted, her resolve softened by apology. "All right. I won't pester you about it on your birthday anymore." Her slight shrug and unsure smile had twisted his grimace into a grin. "May I keep Christmas?"

Patricia gaped at her, an Are You Serious look. "You thought today would be good to remind him of what annoys you?"

"That's not what I meant. I realize it was a dumb thing to do. I just..." Chin propped on her knuckles, Y/N huffed. "If I were to lose him because of that nasty habit, I'd be devastated."

The clink of glass on the walnut bar top. "You meant well. You always mean well." One cheek hanging off the stool, Patricia hugged Y/N at the waist. "Getting older isn't easy. Let the man enjoy it. And learn to take a day off."

A slight nod as Y/N's shoulders slackened, tension ebbing away. There was something about Patricia's blunt kindness that made her feel wonderful, like she was the little sister for a change.

Y/N swirled the rest of her wine, deciding that one fun detail couldn't hurt. "Besides that, we had a great morning. I made sure he didn't mind waking up early."

~~~~~

Arthur wished he wore a watch so he could check it.

He was supposed to met Y/N in front of Kao Wah's after she got out of work, around five-thirty. Though he'd left the apartment at five and ridden the train for nine stops, there was no sign of her. He patted his left breast, then reached under the winter coat's placket to check the inner pocket.

Folded into quarters, the late arrival remained in place. His mouth curved in relief.

His toes tapped the sidewalk, he puffed clouds into the autumn air. Another minute and he rummaged through his pocket for a quarter. There was a payphone on the corner. He'd call her office in case she'd been delayed.

Three steps later, Y/N's call met his back. "Arthur!"

Holding Kao Wah's door open with one foot, she waved at him and waved him towards her. "I'm sorry," she said when he was an arm's length away. "I wanted to grab our favorite booth while it was free."

But he'd only registered a couple of words, the syllables after her sorry a muffled drone. "Look what came in the mail today. It must've gotten lost." He retrieved the October-dated letter from his coat, not looking up or around, too busy buzzing to pay attention as she held his elbow and guided him inside. "Ruthie's coming next month. She- she wants to go to Gotham University." The mere possibility of having family nearby nearly scuttled the reason for tonight's engagement.

"Really?" Y/N smoothed his hair back, unbuttoned his formally-puffy-now-lumpy coat. "Mabel hasn't mentioned it. Either she's gotten better at keeping secrets or Ruthie hasn't told her. I hope it's the former." Y/N continued, pulling him along." It's too bad she couldn't make it this month. She could've helped us all celebrate."

A slight flinch of his head. "Who's all?"

"Happy birthday!" a chorus of cheery voices cried.

The heavy lashes that shaded his cheeks flew up, eyes as wide as a Mun Shou platter.

Patricia and Robert, Ryan and Sheila from Gotham Elementary. Gary - no, not that Gary, who was in England visiting family - but a fellow aspiring comic Arthur had gotten to know during open mic nights at the Smile Factory and Pogo's. A circle but a tight one, a clockface with each person a numeral, a sign of the progress of his life.

Slanting his gaze to Y/N, he tucked the letter in his pocket. "You didn't have to do all this."

"I wanted to," she said, warmth in her cocoa gaze. "We all did."

A slight sway, a tuck of the chin. He ran a hand down his vintage, black suit jacket and tightened his neck. Dressing up to the nines for her had been the plan, a playful way to make their date extraordinary. But at the crowd's casual attire, he felt a little left-footed. "I'm overdressed," he murmured,

Y/N adjusted his lapels. "You look wonderful."

He loosened his large bowtie, the size you'd see during a 1976 Oscar broadcast, so that it draped untied at the neck. Plucked the collar button of his dress shirt and made of show of pulling it down. Once adjusted, he gave her form a demure but thorough ogling. Nearly bare shoulders, a neckline he longed to kiss, the dip of her waist beneath the lining and lace. He'd glue his hand there later. He wet his lips. "Thanks. So do you."

"Come on, sit down." Patricia wore a wry grin. "Before you two set off the sprinklers and ruin the party."

A buffet of Arthur's favorites and a couple new dishes swamped the table. The five spice beef was the perfect winter warmer, the pan-fried noodles with vegetables expertly seared. Moo goo gai pan and chicken chow mien arrived on oversized platters. The egg rolls were extra crispy and the pork fried rice extra sticky. The first round of drinks were on him and Y/N; she ordered Mai Tais between pots of oolong tea.

He'd gotten better at chitchat, gained the confidence to take a chance, perfect the small stage. As the dinner wore on, he noted how natural it felt to break off into side conversations. Succeeded in listening and responding without have to wonder if his instincts had led him down the street of weird. He knew what to do with his hands.

Years of budget cuts had hit the school system like a mallet, and more and more fundraisers tried to make up the difference. Bake sales and book fairs, ticket raffles and auctions. Ryan and Sheila discussed the school's upcoming winter carnival, which Arthur had been a regular part of for a decade. And at events he wasn't hired for (at a reduced rate), he gladly volunteered. It was easier to give of himself now that he had a quadraphonic life instead of mono.

Patricia had convinced Robert to finally, finally sell Gorman Fire and Ice to their grandson for a song, so they could finally, finally take a vacation, a trip to the Bahamas since Cuba was no longer allowed.

Suit jacket slung across the back of his chair, Arthur jotted on a napkin while he and Gary went over the rotation of open mic nights across a sea of clubs, and a new guy in the biz who had a habit of stealing jokes.

An hour later, while he was still high on carbs and comfort in his own skin, Y/N presented him with a cake. Two tiers, rectangular, specks of orange dotting its pale yellow frosting. He leaned into her, mouth agape. "You made this?" He took a languid bite, licked the frosting from his lips and stole another. The mandarin sponge melted on his tongue. He hummed, wrapped an arm around her. "I have a sneaking suspicion I'll want you to make me a cake every birthday."

She snorted into her tea and called across the table. "Patricia, could you pencil me in for a cake lesson every November for the next thirty years?"

Patricia served herself a second slice. "I'll be busy in Acapulco."

Once the check was brought and the leftovers started to be scraped into oyster pails, Arthur stood, scooting his chair away with the backs of his calves. Rapped a fork against his Mai Tai coupe the way he'd seen on TV. Rolled the Tiki themed stem between thumb and forefinger. Studied the amber liquid and considered the right thing to say.

"Thank you for coming," he began, hewing close to the opening of a comedy set. He giggled at the association, an arc of inspiration sparking. "When I was a young man, I thought fifty would mean nights at home with no friends. But now I worry my bad knee'll go out more than I do."

Laughter danced across his friends' faces. He reveled in their smiles, their open admiration. Dr. Ludlow's earlier counsel echoed at the base of his skull. He exhaled a long, satisfied sigh. "I'm glad you all care about me and are here to celebrate."

"You're a jolly good fellow," Patricia said, and raised her teacup for a toast.

Y/N reached out, laced her fingers with his own. Brimming with tenderness, her gaze lifted to his. "Here's to many, many more."

~~~~~

It was just after nine o'clock in 4A. Y/N had traded her dress for stirrup leggings and an off-the-shoulder sweater. Arthur remained resplendent in his evening wear. They'd made a pot of decaf and planned to call Ruthie on the weekend, invite her to stay with them during her visit.

Ready to be returned on tomorrow's lunch break, the smoking cessation tapes sat dejected in Y/N's canvas tote bag. Way back in '81, she'd said she'd get him to quit if it was the last thing she did. It was hard for her to let go. But he'd given her permission to nag at Christmas, and if he wanted to take steps to quit, he knew how. It had to be up to him.

Cross-legged on the carpet, he sat by the coffee table and tore open another gift. He held up the VHS in triumph. "I've Always Loved You," he read, then flipped it over to scan the summary. "I don't think I've seen this."

"Me neither." She perched on the sofa, to his left. "But it's from 1946 and the title's true. There's one more present. Close your eyes."

Leaning back on his hands, he did. She bent over the side of the sofa, retrieved what she'd shoved underneath before his wake-up call. The light weight dropped on his lap with a soft rustling.

One eye cracked open, then the other, surprise engulfing his entire visage. A cautious palm skimmed the tweed carpet bag, a blue and red plaid to go with his clown costume. (His usual nylon prop bags had started to fray after six months. Their novice repairs lasted about two.) Parallel to the bag's top zipper was a bronze nameplate: Carnival.

Arthur fidgeted with the handle. "I'll need a gig at Wayne Hall to use this."

"Open it."

He dragged the zipper's tab an inch. Peeked inside the bag before dragging it further. "Oh..."

Gingerly, he took out the Kala ukulele, reddish brown like mahogany, its four tuners pearl and chrome. The certificate pasted in the soundhole had a manufacture date of 1972, but the instrument looked untouched, as though forgotten in the back of a closet.

"I know getting new clients has been harder the last couple of years. This might help. The library has VHS music lessons you can check out." She knelt behind him and cupped his shoulders. "The strings were put on last week."

His fingertips flitted over the neck, began to pluck the G and C strings at a beginner's tempo. Not quite a match for the notes he played, he crooned a version of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." Gravelly and half hummed, the way you'd sing a lullaby to a sleepy child.

"Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a..." The music came to a gradual stop. "Do you ever wish for more?"

"More of you? Always."

"Today Dr. Ludlow asked what I'd get out of being famous. I thought about it when I got Ruthie's letter. And at the party." The corners of his mouth turned inward. "Do you think I ever will be?"

Y/N nibbled her bottom lip. Tried to find the balance between the truth as she saw it and greater possibilities. Magazines and television implored women to feel like they were defective for aging (and going by the ads for men's hair color, they were about to be dragged into the same predicament.) Popular culture focused on the young. The next Big Thing wasn't old enough to buy a bottle of wine. At Arthur's age, fame was unlikely. For that matter, it'd be unlikely for anyone at any age.

She'd never wanted to be anything special, just herself and to do some good while she was at it. Arthur's outsized need for attention was one of their biggest differences. But she understood where it came from, understood him. His wish for fame was a tough and twisty bit of scar-tissue on his soul.

"There's so much left to chance," she said. "Timing and connections, the right person in the right audience on the right night. That any of us get what we want is a miracle."

A light nod, as nearly imperceptible as his voice. "I still wanna try."

"Good." She wrapped her arms about him, lay her palm above his heart. "Miracles can't happen if we don't."

He grasped her hand. Kissed the back of it and kissed her wrist. "Not everyone makes it. To fifty, I mean. I might not have. I'm happy I did."

Smiling, Y/N grasped his jaw and tilted his head back. Bent over him to seal their mouths. "Me, too," she whispered. "Me, too."

~~~~~

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[ingravinoveritas]

hi, I'm so so sorry if this is crossing a line so feel free to ignore this if you're uncomfortable. I recently saw one of your posts where you mentioned an exchange with NG that you now realized was creepy- may I ask what happened?

Hi Anon. You're not crossing a line, it's okay. I actually have a few other Anons about Neil/the whole situation that I'm currently working on answering, so yours is no problem at all.

The exchanges with Neil that you're referring to took place in mid-2021 and then about six months later in early 2022. I still have the screenshots of them here on my blog--mostly because I really don't even know what to do with them now--so I can link you to the posts: Here and here.

Those posts only have the screenshots, so I will provide the context as well. The first exchange was me responding to something Neil had written about how "the most dangerous people in the world are the ones who tell you things 'for your own good.'" In my response, I talked about how someone once sent me a message under the guise of pretending to care about me, when their true intention was to shame me.

(Backstory: Fifteen years ago, there was a meme going around known as a "demotivational poster." It was a riff on motivational posters, which typically feature a picture with one word in a large font underneath, and then a caption in a smaller font under that. So "demotivational posters" were meant to be a parody of that. (Think Cards Against Humanity as a dark analog to Apples to Apples.) What had happened was that someone--no one I knew, but a complete stranger--found a picture of me in a bathing suit (either from my old Myspace account or who knows where) and used it to create a meme with the word "DESPERATE" under the photo. The caption under that was something like "When you're out of alcohol, paper bags, and Viagra, but go for it anyway"--essentially implying that my face was ugly and someone would have to be desperate to have sex with me. By the time I became aware of it, this poster had received thousands of views, and the person who sent it to me essentially blamed me and said it was my fault for posting a picture of myself in a bathing suit online. Go figure...)

So this was what I explained to Neil, and then followed it with a second tweet stating that the picture of me used in the meme was an old one, and I added a current picture of me in a bathing suit to illustrate what I looked in a bathing suit in the present day. Neil didn't respond to my first tweet, but he responded to the one with the photo and said "And you rock a bikini."

The second exchange (in 2022) was me responding to a tweet of his where he mentioned going on tour/upcoming tour dates, and while I wasn't at all certain he would remember, I referenced the bikini since it was part of our previous interaction. He gave the response that you can see in the second post, saying "What a lovely invitation" and that he wasn't coming to my area at that time but would be someday.

As I had mentioned in my previous post, it was all so mild and nonthreatening on his end that I wasn't even sure if he was being flirtatious to begin with. He had created this image of himself as someone harmless, someone who it was safe to send a picture like that to, because you'd never think anything would come of it. It's only now in hindsight that I see the creepiness--that he didn't reply to the tweet where I shared something personal and painful, but did reply to my tweet with the bikini picture in it, that he was so overly "friendly" in his responses, and so on.

Again, I am emphatically not at all trying to compare these exchanges to what the survivors of Neil's actions went through. I take full responsibility for my own actions--I chose to send that picture, I chose to bring it up again in the 2022 exchange, and then when I met him in person in 2023. My only purpose in sharing this is that I do think it shows how Neil presented himself and how these are things he's clearly practiced at and has known how to fool people for a very long time.

I hope this helps to answer your question, and I very much appreciate your consideration in regard to my being comfortable with answering this.

[tojiscrack]

how i feel knowing that when your ‘liar, liar’ fic gets big (and it WILL), i’ll get to say that i was one of your og readers, laughing as the new readers (peasants) wish they were here during the chaos - when people were shipping malakai with EVERY CHARACTER EVER or when people were making predictions about future chapters or everyone collectively losing their minds over the angst tag etc etc:

we’re going to look back at this time and feel nostalgic when the fic’s over. i need megumi and y/n together RIGHT NOW but i know that when that happens, their story will be over ☹️

liar, liar masterlist here:

AHHH NOT THE TIKTOK PROUD EMOJI LMAOOO 😭 fun fact: it’s my fav emoji in the world and if apple doesn’t find a way to let me use it outside of tiktok, i’m gonna combust on the spot 😀

‘and it WILL’ — your confidence is what i’m gonna hide behind, ty 🌝

DON’T CALL THEM PEASANTS OMG??? 😭 THEY’RE NOT EVEN HERE YET 🫨 i’m trying so hard not to laugh rn 😟

it’s already been, what, a couple of months since the first ever malakai x y/n ship started by that anon who, like, never returned after causing all that chaos? 🫢 so it’s already becoming an old thing the ogs would know about, and don’t even get me started on the panic the angst tag has everyone in LMFAOO, my fault, honestly, but idc i like it 😋

and girl, we have a LONGGG way to go before mercupine’s story is at a close. we’ll worry about that when we get there, i’m just glad the small family we’ve got are still here after nearly an entire year with such slow updates (i’m sorry 😭) <3

and ofc, i’m well aware that you are one of the og’s, sending a cute (albeit weirdly confident/funny) message about it was not necessary ‘cause ANY time i see ur user in my notifs, i remember that you were the first ever reader of SOANO (which i’ve yet to update but i’m working on it if you’re still interested 😔). your support has meant, and still means, the world to me. idk how to speak in such a sappy way, i’ll pocket that for when i’m done writing liar liar 😤💘

[petertingle-yipyip]

TO FALL FROM GRACE - MATT MURDOCK

Two - In The Dark

//woah im actually sticking to my posting schedule, go me. anyways// tags: @see-the-divine @fallingfavourites // prev // next

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Livia Yersova

Word Count: 7,788

Summary: One night changes her entire life. Livia loses one of her best friends and another piece of herself. How many more does she have to give?

Livia hadn’t planned on going out. She didn’t feel quite herself so she didn’t believe herself to be part of her friend group, at least not in the way she used to be.

She’d only been back from the Blip for a few months. In that time, both her and Matt had been in and out of the social circle, what with her running off to help Yelena and sending him off to California. Neither seemed able to sit and talk to the other, which was just fine by Livia. She didn’t want to address the new skeleton in her closet anymore than the next person.

But then there was Foggy…

Foggy did everything in his power to keep Livia’s head out of the sand. He looped her into conversations, sent June to relay a message when she didn’t answer, dragged her chair away from her desk when he wanted her input. Franklin Nelson refused to be shut out during Livia’s spiral.

It was nice.

So when he insisted they all go to Josie’s after work, how could she say no?

Foggy took up a seat at the bar with June. Livia still had a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that June was an adult and now legally able to drink. She kept wanting to snatch the glass of liquor out of her hands and replace it with soda or apple juice, but it made her laugh to see her wince and cough as she drank it.

Livia was seated at the table with Matt and Karen. She had one leg propped up on Matt’s lap as she swirled her drink. Matt had a hand on her knee, tapping some beat only he knew. She still wanted to reach out, to lace their fingers together, but she refrained.

She still wasn’t sure where they stood. He was keeping something from her, same as June. The two seemed to be getting along better since they got back from California, despite June’s tantrum, but there was still a rift. Whatever was between them, however, paled in comparison to the chasm Livia felt between her and Matt.

It was just enough like old times, which should’ve been a comfort to Livia. Instead it was salt in the wound.

Karen and Matt didn’t seem to miss a beat. Livia would have to be blind to miss it. It was moments like that where she wished she was, wished she didn’t have to be so privy to everyone’s emotions. She wanted to trade her mindwork for any other kind some days, or even trade it away in its entirety.

Accepting it wasn’t possible, she downed the rest of her drink. Maybe a buzz would take her out of it enough to stop thinking.

At some point in the conversation, Matt realized she was stuck in her head. He leaned in, squeezing her knee lightly for her attention.

“Yes?” Livia tilted her head towards him. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“I could tell.” He gave half a smile. “What are you thinking about?”

She gave a tight, forced smile. “Nothing.” She adjusted in her chair, withdrawing her leg. “I’m gonna get a refill. You guys need one?”

“No need.” June announced and came over Livia’s shoulder with four glasses. She plopped into the open chair between Livia and Karen. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Well hello.” Karen laughed.

“Got so bad I had to leave.” June pulled a face. “Foggy does not have the game for Kirsten McDuffie.”

Livia laughed as she picked up her refill.

Matt gasped dramatically. “Don’t you dare!” He feigned offense. “Don’t underestimate our Foggy.”

“I don’t know.” Livia agreed. “Didn’t he try the moves on you way back when?” Livia pointed to Karen.

She tilted her back to laugh. “Oh, I forgot about that!” Karen grinned.

“I wonder where he learned it from.” June gave Matt a teasingly pointed look.

Matt only offered a shit-eating grin, which got a laugh from June.

Maybe those two were okay after all. Livia’s ability wasn’t exactly fine-tuned anymore so it was likely that she had misread it. Maybe she was projecting her own issues onto them. She decided at that moment to put that on the back burner for now.

“Don’t you think so, Livia?” Karen’s question brought Livia out of her thoughts.

She had been withdrawing into her own head so much lately. Who had noticed? Judging by the worry she felt thumping beside her, June at the very least did.

“Sorry, just-“

“Thinking.” Karen nodded, a furrow to her brows that Livia recognized as concern. She hated that it was so obvious she was out of it. “Is everything-“

“Do you think he needs new glasses?” June cut in. The girl knew Livia wasn’t herself, even if she didn’t know why, so she saved Livia from the question.

Livia looked over at Matt, who was already looking at her. He smiled softly in anticipation, brows raised with interest. She cocked her head as she took her time examining him. Livia wasn’t even looking at the glasses. Those made little difference to her. She just wanted a quiet moment to look at him.

June lightly kicked at Livia’s shin under the table and she realized yet another silence had stretched too long.

She had opened her mouth to answer when something outside snagged on her ability. She looked around and noticed Foggy was nowhere to be seen. She patted Matt’s arm but didn’t wait for him to say anything. She was on her feet and headed towards the door.

They met Foggy outside to find out there was an issue with one of Foggy’s clients, Benny. Apparently he had been getting threats so he was ‘stashed’, but something had gone wrong. He was calling Foggy in an absolute panic. Matt said he would take care of it but there was something else about it that didn’t sit right.

Something was knocking against her ability, someone achingly familiar. Who would go after Benny that she had that kind of tether to, she couldn’t say. It didn’t make sense.

As she was trying to piece it together, Foggy tried calling his client again and June was studying Livia’s reaction. Livia looked over her shoulder to where her car was parked, just at the end of the block. In the trunk was her bag of gear.

“Give me two seconds, okay?” Livia began back away.

“No, Liv.” June reached for the woman’s arm. “I don’t like this.”

“Just be ready.”

“What is going on?”

“I don’t know…” Livia’s eyes flicked to June’s covered hands and back. “But be ready for anything.”

June nodded and Livia all but ran down the street. She grabbed the materials out of her trunk and ducked into the closest alley. She kicked off her shoes, hopefully they’d still be there after, and stepped into her boots. She had already left her jacket at the office so she was only in the plain long sleeve. She shoved her arms into the bulletproof top easily and clipped her belt around her hips, wondering if her pants were loose enough not to rip during the action. She could handle a lot of things but a story about Exodus flashing half her neighborhood during a fight was not one of them. Her mask was around her neck as she took a quick inventory.

No guns, four knives, a pouch with shock disks (five or six, it felt like), and a grappling wire. As she was sliding her mask into place, she heard it.

The distinct sound of a silencer.

Then came June’s scream, the slam of panic that rattled Livia to her bones. It was nearly enough to double her over or make her fall to her knees.

Livia almost tripped over her own feet running back. More shots came as she got close and she shoved June and Karen behind her.

Livia couldn’t ignore how bad June was shaking. She spared a second to put her hands on either side of the younger one’s face.

“Hey.” Livia spoke quickly. She tried to ignore that damned presence now clawing at her back. She wouldn’t have been surprised if there were true marks on her skin from it. “I need you to focus right now. Okay? Are you with me?”

June nodded quickly but her eyes were blown wide with panic. Livia groaned in frustration before she shook June slightly. The small action seemed to snap June back to the moment and Livia could almost see the training take over. June glanced around before trying to drop to her knees.

Livia caught June by her arm and righted her.

“No, I need you to help evacuate.” Livia said firmly.

“But Fo-“

“No. Get people out. I will handle this.”

“Let me help!”

“You stay out here, you’ll go down too. That’s not happening. Now get in there and do what I asked. Keep your head down because you’re not bulletproof. Understand? Perchatki snyat'.” (Gloves off.)

June looked down at the fallen person and back. She swallowed hard, blinked away tears, and nodded. As she headed back into Josie’s, she tucked the leather into her back pocket.

That’s not just a person. A voice in Livia’s head scolded. It’s Foggy.

The smoke can that sailed past her head made her shove the voice to the back of her mind. If she dwelled on that, she’d be hit too. Livia whirled around to where it came from and her stomach dropped.

No wonder they felt so goddamned familiar.

“Hello, Karen.” He said smoothly, confidently and unbothered, as if he didn’t just shoot down your best friend.

“Dex?” Livia squinted. The smoke wasn’t bothering her but the mask he hid behind did.

Even with his face covered, she’d recognize him anywhere. His steps never faltered but his emotions wavered. Surprise. He didn’t plan for Livia to be there.

She could use that.

Livia had no choice but to engage first.

She couldn’t risk losing a knife (or giving Dex any more weaponry) so she slid a shock disk between her fingers. She toyed with it for a moment, letting him get just a few steps closer.

Livia had to ignore the tug in the back of her mind, the pull of someone familiar. She blocked it out, imagining a pair of scissors severing the old connection.

It didn’t quite sever but it was weaker now.

As soon as Dex was within her range, she snapped her wrist and sent the small disk flying. There was hardly any bare skin unless she wanted to take his eye out so she simply sent it for his neck. Even through the fabric, he jerked with the shock and his steps faltered. Before Livia could run at him and maybe get him to chase her down, lead him away from Josie’s, away from June, another figure came swinging in to tackle him through the front window of Josie’s. She only saw a blur of a figure, but she was willing to bet money that it was Matt.

Chaos raged inside but her feet were stuck.

Fear. Unbridled, unrelenting fear froze her in her place now that she didn’t have Dex to focus on. Livia forced her eyes closed, tried to find her bubble of silence, but she couldn’t. Not when she knew that her friend was on the ground with a bullet wound.

“Livia.” Karen’s shaky voice penetrated her thoughts.

With a shudder, she forced herself to kneel at their sides. Livia’s lower lip was trembling as she willed herself to keep looking at Karen. She didn’t want to see Foggy covered in his own blood. She didn’t want to have another body burned into her memory.

After the way Elektra’s and Sam’s death followed her, she couldn’t add Foggy to that.

“I don’t-“ Karen tried. Livia could tell the woman was trying not to hyperventilate. “I can’t- What am I supposed to do?”

“Keep pressure.” Livia’s voice was detached. If the Red Room was good for anything, at least it taught her how to pretend death didn’t matter in the moment. She’d fall apart later. “Someone will have called EMS by now…”

“Liv.” She thought she heard Foggy whisper.

Livia didn’t look - she couldn’t - but she did reach out and squeeze his hand.

It felt colder than it should’ve.

“Don’t you fucking die on me.” Livia whispered. The tears threatened under her mask.

Another figure slid to their knees on the opposite side. Livia glanced and saw June, eyes blown wide with tears streaming down her cheeks and her bare hands holding tightly to Foggy’s. She was mumbling something, something Livia couldn’t pick up. Everything was muffled, drowned out by the blood rushing through her, but her resolve was firm.

If there was ever any God that was on her side, Dex wouldn’t survive the night.

Livia pushed to her feet and drew one of her knives. She ignored Karen’s protests, walked straight through the smoke, and found Dex preoccupied with his fight.

He didn’t see her coming till it was nearly too late.

Nearly.

Matt had kicked Dex into the bar top and stepped back to catch his breath. Once Dex turned, Livia was there swinging her blade across what would’ve been both of his eyes. He dropped to his knees and went directly

for her rib.

With a nimble side step, she avoided the blow. Her knee was driving upwards before Dex could react and it slammed straight into his nose. She held her knife between her teeth as she reached down and grabbed his shirtfront to slam him to the floor. She put her knee to his throat and leaned her weight down as she reclaimed her blade.

There was a lot she could’ve said, curses and hateful  and cruel things, but he didn’t deserve to hear them. All he deserved was the pain, the suffering he’d inflicted onto her.

She angled to drive her knife through the side of his neck when he yanked her aside by a fistful of hair. Her knife clattered away and she cursed when her back hit the bar. She slammed a fist against the heavy wood as the men continued the fight through the sliding doors to the pool tables.

She was on her hands and knees, trying to regulate her hitching breaths, when a debilitating wave of panic hit her. It churned her stomach, made her head spin, blurred her focus.

Her head turned towards the open front door. All she could see was Foggy’s legs and who she thought was June kneeling. If she pushed her power, she could tell who it was, but she couldn’t afford the distraction. The sensation of wanting to puke was bad enough.

“Help, Cherry!” Matt called out.

Livia turned to see a few people who had been caught in the crossfire. She shook as much of the sensations away as she could while she pushed to her feet. She stumbled past the civilians, past Matt’s reaching hand and Cherry’s hustling frame.

As cruel as it may have sounded, the bat’s patrons weren’t her problem. Livia wasn’t going to stop until she choked the life out of Dex herself.

She followed him up the backstairs with three knives left. Her steps were light, any sound swallowed by the soles of her boots. Like a predator, she stalked intently until Dex paused to catch his breath.

Livia practically tackled him.

She slammed her body against his to knock him off balance. Her knife was drawn in one swift movement and she jammed it forward, piercing deep into his shoulder. He groaned loudly as the blood began to flow.

Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

She yanked it out and jabbed it forward again, aiming to slice him open so his guts would spill out. He jumped back and earned a shallow wound instead. Livia kicked out and her foot connected with his sternum.

He stumbled back, coughing and rubbing the area. She flicked the blade and watched it bury itself into his leg.

Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

Livia was moving in for another attack when one of Dex’s knives flew at her. It embedded itself between her ribs, though the top took most of the impact. She still felt the blade puncture skin, only a couple inches at most. She smiled at him as she pulled it out, ignoring the burning pain and steady flow of blood.

Livia flipped it in her grip and threw it right back. His eyes went wide before he ducked. The blade buried into the wall, level with where Dex’s adam’s apple would’ve been.

By the time Dex righted himself, Livia was there.

She grabbed the front strap of his holster and yanked him close. Without her usual padded gloves, her bare knuckles slammed into his hidden face. Cheekbone. Jaw. Nose. Eye socket. Livia didn’t care. She was throwing the entirety of her weight in the punches, watching his head snap to the side with every shot. She didn’t even care about the pain it brought upon her own hand, how it shot in her arm and triggered the old pain of damaged nerves.

She wanted him broken. She wanted him bloodied. She wanted him bruised and swollen and unrecognizable, pleading for her to either kill him or spare him. She wanted the coroner to have to identify him through dental records, that was if he had any teeth left in his mouth by the end of it.

Livia was so consumed by her rage, a mania she hadn’t truly felt in so long, that she didn’t give a reaction when Dex laughed.

Only when her knuckles were raw and bloody did she ease up.

Livia threw Dex to the floor and wrapped both of her hands around his throat. She had her knees pinning his arms down and her nails were digging into the side of the tender flesh.

Not. Enough.

She reveled in the way his eyes bulged in panic, the way he jerked under her weight, the way he clawed desperately at her legs.

Livia was going to watch him die and she was going to enjoy it.

Her focus only broke when Matt’s baton came flying in to break the lightbulb above her. She looked up for a second but it was enough. Her hands loosened by only a fraction but Dex capitalized on the distraction. He slammed his forehead against her nose and she fell off.

Livia could taste the blood trickling from her nose and across her lips. She almost laughed too.

Dex went clambering up the next flight of stairs and Matt was right behind him. He stopped for a moment to haul Livia to her feet. She pushed him slightly away. The blood gushing from her nose was a bit more important than his presence.

Livia pinched the bridge of her nose and braced her other hand against the closest banister. She closed her eyes as the familiar taste of blood settled on her tongue. Her mouth was open enough to allow her to breathe.

She had to remind herself how to do that.

Downstairs, on the sidewalk just outside Josie’s, one of her best friends was bleeding out. Livia had no idea how much time he had left, if the paramedics had arrived, if June was still calm. Her adrenaline had reinforced those shaky walls quite nicely but it was only a matter of time until that was gone.

She had to take advantage.

It took a few minutes but the bleeding finally stopped. She could taste it in her mouth still but it wasn’t leaking down her face anymore. There was still the vague warm sensation in the back of her throat, the pressure in her sinuses, but she’d gone through missions with worse.

That’s what it was now anyways. A mission, with Ben Poindexter as her target.

Livia’s feet dragged slightly as she made her way up to the rooftop, the wire pack in her hand. She shifted it around for her finger to find the trigger.

It was only her and Dex.

She watched his shoulders move with a heavy sigh before he turned and threw a knife. She dropped to a knee and clicked the button, sending the wire to wrap around Dex’s ankles.

Once it wrapped, she yanked with all her strength. Dex crashed to the floor but she continued to pull, spinning the slack around and around until he was at her feet.

Livia showed Dex mercy last time. She spared him years ago.

What a mistake.

She spit on the floor near him, a mix of saliva and blood. Dex’s eyes were wide and she cocked her head. For a brief moment, she wondered what she looked like from his perspective.

She smiled, likely showcasing bloodied teeth, and stepped aside. Matt immediately took her place and began beating on Dex again.

The tug in Livia’s chest brought her to the ledge. She leaned over and saw the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. Bodies were being wheeled out of the bar beneath white sheets. That sight made her wonder what had she ignored on her way through the place.

She noted the top of two blonde heads, both kneeling over a third person.

Karen and June were still with Foggy. It gave Livia some hope that he’d make it, but not enough to silence the voice in her head.

He’ll die. Dex made sure of that… A life for a life.

A thud from behind Livia drew her attention. There was Dex, weak and beaten and breathing heavy.

She grabbed his shirtfront and dragged him to stand on the ledge with her. One hand stayed fisted in the material while the other drew a knife to place the tip specifically in the space between his ribs.

Dex had the audacity to laugh again.

She pressed the blade enough for the tip to break skin.

“Why?” She whispered. She had no voice for anything else. “What do you gain?”

He simply grinned and Livia couldn’t stop herself. She buried her knife to the handle.

Matt grabbed Dex, screamed in his face, and the grief slammed her so hard she had to step back just to ensure she didn’t go over the edge.

Foggy was gone.

Livia fell to her knees immediately. The second she did, the walls seemed to fall with her and she was hit by not just Matt’s pain, but June’s and Karen’s. Her stomach rolled with the sudden feelings. Her body was ice cold.

She couldn’t move even when Matt shoved Dex over the ledge.

Matt stumbled over to her side, his helmet discarded. With shaky hands, she reached for Matt and he didn’t hesitate to pull her close. His arms were around her so tight she thought he might crack a new rib.

She squeezed her eyes shut, mask digging against her skin. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything other than Matt’s embrace.

Livia took a massive step away from her social life after that. Karen left. June shut herself in her room for a long time. Livia could hear her voice at night, on phone calls and video chats with the boy she was sweet on. Livia wanted to ask about him, find out some more about him, but she couldn’t find it in herself to try and face June.

On some level, Livia carried the guilt of Foggy’s death. Poindexter was the one who took the shot, she understood that. However, Livia was the one who spared the man’s life years ago. She consented for his spinal repair, albeit in hopes he’d be paralyzed.

It had been years. Why hadn’t Dex moved on?

Why was he still so much the same?

The process of the trial took a year. Livia had testified against Dex, of course. He had stared her down the entire time except there wasn’t any malice in his stare. It was more like he was studying her, memorizing her, admiring her almost.

It left her feeling strange.

Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she should testify when it was brought to her. She thought to deny the subpoena, but the only reason she had was that it would incriminate her in regards to her vigilante involvement. Yet if she was caught lying on the stand, she’d be in trouble anyways.

Reluctantly, she had agreed but only after Matt told her if she didn’t, the next request would likely go to June and she wasn’t going to ask that of her.

When it finally came time for Livia’s statement, she felt relatively numb walking up to the stand. Matt still had

to give his after so she knew most of the heaviness would come from him. The emotion and grief and pain would come from his words. She would only provide facts.

“There is no other way to say this.” Livia began, meeting Dex’s scrutinizing stare with a blank one of her own. His head cocked slightly as he tried to puzzle her out. “The man on trial here today is capable of atrocious violence.”

Dex scoffed to himself.

“He is a man I thought I knew… Even the best of us can be wrong. The man before me today is a man who gunned down a friend of mine, a beloved member of his community, because of a grudge. I’ve seen heinous acts in my life but what happened that night overshadows them all… And it’s because of him. I trust this court will dole out equal punishment today.”

Dex raised his eyebrows in quiet question. He nodded to himself, as if accepting her words as part of a punishment.

He still felt so damned familiar she wanted to jump off the stand and tear his throat out with her bare hands just so it would end.

When Livia returned to the gallery, June laced their fingers. Livia patted June’s hand but didn’t let go. In fact, she squeezed her friend’s hand a little tighter.

Livia didn’t listen to Matt’s statement. She was too busy keeping her emotions in check.

Anger, grief, loneliness, sadness, anticipation. Everything swelled in her chest and she just wanted to scream. She wanted to be alone. She didn’t really know what she wanted.

Dex was sentenced to life without parole. That should’ve made her happy. She should’ve reveled in the fact that he’d never have a life again, that by taking Foggy’s and ten others’ he had his freedom taken away.

She wasn’t.

Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

Livia still wanted him dead.

After the trial and after Matt spoke to Karen, he convinced June and Livia to come to his apartment for dinner. He stated that he wanted their company and June agreed on behalf of both women. Livia hadn’t found her voice again anyways, which also meant Karen left without a conversation.

At least they still kept in touch via texts.

After eating and chatting, June fell asleep on the couch. Livia didn’t blame her. The lights were low, the room was warm, and her belly was full. Matt was cleaning up while Livia sat in one of the stools by the counter.

“Thank you…” Livia said, her eyes on June. “She hasn’t slept soundly in a long time.”

“You’re both welcome here anytime. You know that.” Matt answered. “Maybe she just needed more background noise so she doesn’t think she’s alone.”

“She stays in her room a lot, talking to her boyfriend.”

“Joaquin, right?”

“You know him?” Livia’s brows raised. “June told you about him?”

Matt chuckled as he nodded. “Yeah, we talked about it when we went to California.”

“I can’t believe she told you more than she’s told me.”

“You and me both.”

“She never even said his name!” Livia threw her hands forward. “It’s always just ‘this guy’ or ‘my friend’.” Livia threw air quotes around to match.

“It took some coaxing to get it out of her, if it helps. I had to tell her something first.” Matt gave her a smile as he faced her. “He seems like a good guy, Air Force I think he said.”

“He said? You talked to him?”

“I interrupted a phone call.” He waved a dismissive hand. “He makes her happy.”

“Yeah…” Livia looked over at June, fast asleep across the sofa cushions. Her gloves were discarded on the coffee table and her hands were tucked under her head.

“Hey…” Matt’s hand landed on Livia’s, which made her look back at him. 

“She used to have this jitteriness, like an anxious buzzing. I would feel it coming off her like a phone vibrating or something… It’s part of why I started calling her Junebug.”

“Does she know she reminded you of a beetle?” He chuckled.

“No.” She flashed a guilty smile. “But I came back and it’s basically gone. I assume it’s partly cause of him. Which is fine, of course. I want her to be happy… I don’t know, Matt. I don’t know if I’m angry I missed her growing up or just sad about it.”

“It’s okay to be upset about it. She is, too.” Matt was on his way around the counter.

“But-“

“Livvy.” His hands landed on either cheek. “You’re allowed to have your own feelings about everything.”

“It isn’t selfish to be upset because I missed it? I should just be proud of how she’s started to figure her life out.”

“You’re one of the least selfish people I know. You give so much to the people you care about.”

Livia hung her hands on his forearms, tracing his initials with her thumb. She tilted her head back slightly as Matt took a step closer. He bumped her knees so she shifted the way she was sitting, adjusting her legs to give him a little more room.

Matt didn’t need more than that to come closer.

I love you.

The words were on her tongue. She could taste the syllables. It’d be so easy to say it. Maybe he felt it too, Maybe he was just waiting for her to say it. She just couldn’t find the voice to say them. Saying felt both perfect and out of place.

Instead, she sighed to herself and squeezed his arms slightly. Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath, her lungs filling with the familiar scent of his cologne. Her declaration of love could wait for another time.

“It’s been so heavy.” Her already quiet voice broke.

His hands slid to the side of her neck, his thumbs gently pressing under her chin to keep her head angled towards him.

Silently, she thanked his God she had fair control of her abilities. There was a faint pink sneaking across her vision but she blinked it away.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Matt said softly.

“You’d think I would’ve figured out this whole grief thing by now.” Livia joked weakly. “I’m sorry I’ve been so out of it.”

“I don’t blame you… I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.”

Livia knew the resolve she had was breaking. She knew putting space was the smarter choice. If she started down the road she was thinking, she’d never make it back. She let go of his arms and gently pulled on his shirtfront.

“I still don’t understand. It had been so long. Why would he-“ Livia began ranting about Poindexter. She hoped complaining about the man she hated would distract from the man in front of her.

“Liv?” Matt cut in gently.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Before she could offer an argument, he pulled her lips to his.

The kiss was gentle at first, triggering sparks under Livia’s skin. Acting on nothing but habit, she slid a hand up his chest till her fingers found the nape of his neck. Her other hand remained gripping his shirt.

Matt pushed a hand into her hair, almost desperate to bring her closer. Any sounds she could’ve made were muffled with the kiss but the sensations through her body and mind made up for it, especially when Matt’s other hand hooked behind her knee to hold her leg at his hip.

Her skin was alive. Every inch was lit with a fire she hadn’t anticipated. Her heart was beating fast, pushing blood through her veins at a pace that rivaled an Olympic sprinter. She let the feelings live, let them thrive and grow just so she could revel in the way only he could bring her to such a state with hardly anything.

Her lips were tingling Her were flushed. Her hands were possessively holding onto him but Livia didn’t care.

She felt alive under his touch.

She loved him. She loved him with everything she had, in every way she could. She never wanted to lose him again.

After what felt entirely too short, Matt pulled away first.

He let out a breathy laugh and Livia smiled widely.

“Maybe we should…” He jerked his head towards the bedroom.

“With her sleeping on your couch?” Livia teased.

“TV and stereo are probably loud enough.” He shrugged innocently.

Livia shook her head fondly and glanced over at the TV. Once she saw what was on the screen, she immediately regretted looking. Her shoulders dropped before gently

pushing Matt back so she had room to stand. He reached for her hand as she passed but she kept moving. With the music off, she could hear his words more clearly.

“…declaring my candidacy for Mayor of New York.” Fisk’s voice confidently stated.

Matt was at her side, a hand lightly on her back. She put a hand on his arm and her fingers were digging in slightly. Her stomach dropped to her feet, making her feel sick.

“He can’t be serious.” Livia whispered. As much as she wanted to scream and shout, maybe even panic, she was hyper aware of the sleeping figure on the couch.

How would she keep June safe from that?

“Tell me he can’t do this. There’s gotta be something, right?” She faced Matt.

“I don’t know, Livia.” Matt confessed quietly.

“She’s going to flip out.” Livia put her other hand on the back of the couch. “If he’s Mayor, how can I keep her safe from him?”

“Hey.” He rubbed her back. “I’m right here with you. We’ll figure this out.”

Livia couldn’t stop the scoff as she stepped away from his touch. “Matt, you packed it up. What do you really think the system is gonna do against the Mayor? Against a Mayor who was able to abuse and manipulate the fucking FBI?” She hissed, mindful to keep her anger to a simmer instead of a meltdown. June needed good sleep more than she needed to scream. “If he gets that office, he’ll abuse that too.”

“You think you need to be Exodus for this?”

“I never stopped.” She let out a strangled laugh. “I couldn’t stop. It didn’t make sense for me to hang it up like you did. That’s part of why I hardly came around. I didn’t want to hear you saying how we owed it to Foggy or how we should leave that behind.”

“It’s not just about him, Livia. You know what that life does to us.”

“I know it kept me alive.”

“And I know it killed you.” Matt said sharply as he jabbed. a finger against her sternum. “Twice.”

“Exodus had nothing to do with that.” She defended, smacking his hand away. She could almost hear every single wall of protection locking into place. “It was collateral damage against Russo and the Blip was random.”

Livia hated that term. Collateral damage. Too many people used it to justify hurting those around them. Just because it’s written off as unintended doesn’t mean there wasn’t suffering.

Intent doesn’t justify the results. Livia learned that lesson the hard way on more than one occasion.

“We can figure something out in the morning. Alright? All three of us.” Matt tried. She didn’t miss the desperation laced in his words.

“I don’t trust him.” She shook her head. “I don’t trust he wants to help the city… Do you?”

“What if…” He licked his lips, trying to buy time to come up with something. “I’ll ask Cherry to do some digging, see if there’s any red flags. Let me at least do this before you go running off.”

Livia sighed and rubbed her eyes. She was just so tired. She just wanted her old life back.

“There’s no way to keep this from her.” Livia’s hand fell away from her face and hit her leg with a light smack. “You know that right?”

“She can handle it.” Matt nodded.

“That's not what I’m worried about.” Livia mumbled.

“Liv?”

“I’m just gonna sleep on it.” Livia finally answered. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He patted her arm. “I’ll get you some-“

“No, I’m gonna head out.” She cut him off. “Thanks for dinner.”

Livia tried to step around him. As much as her heart wanted to stay, her head was telling her better. Matt was always going to be her safe space. There was never any denying that. No matter who or what was in her life, she’d find a way back to Matthew Murdock.

But in those moments, she just had to think. She had to look at the facts, advantages, disadvantages. She had to consider every angle Fisk could be playing at. She couldn’t do that if she stayed the night.

She was barely two steps when he caught her arm.

“And what do I tell June when she wakes up and you’re gone?” Matt challenged.

“It’s not that serious.” Livia weakly tried to argue. She was just so tired.

“Tell that to the girl who woke up in cold sweats looking for you, the girl who had nightmares because you weren’t there.”

“That wasn’t my fault.”

“No, you’re right. Those five years weren’t on you.” He shook his head and let Livia’s arm go. “But this? Everything since? Alivia,-“

“Alivia?” She whispered, though Matt didn’t stop.

“-you came back almost three years ago and this is probably the most words you’ve said to me. This is the most I’ve been able to touch you without you running off.”

“What do you want me to say, Matt?” Her shoulders dropped. She had to pay very specific attention to the

volume of her voice. “My cousin is dead. My other cousin is a walking suicide risk but she won’t acknowledge it. One of my best friends is dead and another moved across the country, not to mention the one that’s off grid for who the fuck knows how long. And you…”

“What about me?” He asked quietly.

Livia swallowed whatever response she had. What could she say anyway?

“I’ll text her so she sees it when she wakes up.” Livia said instead.

“Don’t bother.” June mumbled from the couch. “I heard enough. If you two wanna argue, can you do it in another room?”

Livia looked down and noticed June hadn’t even opened her eyes. She shooed them away with a lazy wave before readjusting and falling back asleep.

Livia had nothing else to say. She simply squeezed June’s arm lightly and left.

Work the next day was no better. Her trio worked in the conference room on some case notes. June was tapping away on her ipad, glancing between her and Matt every so often. Livia caught her eye occasionally and she’d jerk her head towards Matt with a pointed look.

It didn’t take a genius to know she wanted Livia to say something. Livia simply shook her head.

Nothing outside of work was mentioned.

After Kirsten came in to remind Matt about a meeting, June smacked her hands on the table. Livia sighed before meeting her friend’s aggressive blinks. It was like she was sending a morse code message.

“Did you, um-“ Matt cleared his throat. “Did you wanna come, Livia?”

“No, thanks. June?”

June stared at Livia and kicked her shin, relatively hard.

“Ow.” Livia deadpanned.

“Stop it.” June hissed.

“I’ll see you both later.” Livia closed her laptop.

“Wait.” Matt tried. “We should talk about last night.”

Livia collected her computer and her bag. “Everything was pretty clear for me.”

“Liv!” June stood quickly.

“I’ll see you at home.” Livia told her. “Tell Kirsten I’m taking a flex day. I’ll be logged in if she needs me.”

June huffed in loud frustration as Livia left. The rest of the day was quiet. Kirsten texted to check in, which alivia didn’t answer. June came home ranting about the client meeting which wasn’t a client meeting at all but a blind date. She immediately decided she didn’t like the woman and it was time for Livia to “swallow her pride and get right with Matt”. Livia tried to remind June that it wasn’t just up to her but June kept talking through her plan to get them back together. It all seemed very elaborate and well-thought out. Livia could only guess how long June had been working on that.

At that point, Livia had to stop listening. The debate was on and Fisk had taken all of her attention. The topic was now vigilantes.

“That’s why you guys were fighting last night…” June realized.

“He’s running for mayor but Matt and I can’t agree on what to do.”

“What is there to do?”

“Matt thinks we should wait and let Cherry do some digging first.”

“And you don’t?”

“I’d rather just confront him but I doubt he’d be honest.”

“He might not lie to me.” June offered carefully.

Livia looked over and saw the determined set of her jaw as she watched the debate. Vigilantes were now being comparable to cancer. June’s eyes were stuck to the TV but Livia could see the war raging behind them. This wasn’t something Livia could face for June.

“I’ll go with you.” June nodded.

“Okay.” Livia said simply. “But you pull the plug if you need to. At any point, okay?”

June finally looked at Livia. “I know. As long as you’re there, I think I’ll be alright… We should do it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Livia raised a brow.

“The sooner the better, right? We can lay that to rest and work on operation romance.” June did a little dance with her shoulders that made Livia laugh.

By the next afternoon, Livia and June had found where to catch Fisk. They waited at the end of the block, avoiding the crowd surrounding the door. June was glancing around, rocking nervously on her heels, patting a beat against her legs. The buzzing seemed to return in that moment.

“June.” Livia put a hand on her friend’s arm. “It’s okay. He can’t hurt you.”

“I know.” She nodded quickly. “I just… I haven’t faced him in years. What if I just turn into that scared little girl again?”

“You’re nowhere near that same girl.” Livia smiled softly. “We both know that.”

The noise from the crowd grew and Livia didn’t need to look to see that Fisk was coming. She gave June’s arm a small squeeze.

“Now or never, my dear.” Livia raised her brows. “Still gods?”

June blew out a sigh. “I think so.”

“Okay.” She smiled softly.

After June looped their arms together, they moved a few steps closer. She could see Fisk’s bald head over the commotion. A younger man, maybe around her age, was pushing through. He was clearing a path for Fisk, some sort of bodyguard or personal security.

Now that was something she could work with.

“Step aside, ladies.” He was a few feet away.

June was looking past him, fiddling with her gloves. Livia let the man’s unamused stare with a charming smile.

“We’re old associates of Mr. Fisk. We’d like a word.” Livia said smoothly.

“Not gonna happen.”

June pulled a glove off quickly but Livia covered the girl’s hand with her own. The movement made the man glance down but he gave no reaction other than a slight brow furrow. He met Livia’s gaze again but she maintained an innocent, soft smile.

“Just ask him. You may be surprised. Mister.?”

“Step aside. I won’t ask again.” He said flatly.

“I see.” Livia nodded slightly. “Well, if you try to touch either of us, I will break all twenty seven bones in your hand. It’ll be quick, though. I’m quite good at it.”

“Is that a threat?” He took a step forward.

Livia took one of her own, unfortunately dragging June with her.

“Not at all.” Livia shrugged a shoulder. “Just a statement.”

“It’s alright, Buck.” Fisk called from a few feet back.

Livia felt June shrink behind her. She turned her head and caught June’s wide eyes in her peripherals.

“I can’t do this.” She whispered, slipping into perfect Russian. “I can’t face him.”

“That’s okay.” Livia said in the same low tone, matching her choice of language. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to go home.”

Livia guided June a few steps away as Fisk got closer. On seeing June’s retreat, he froze. Livia thought she felt disappointment from Fisk, maybe even sadness, but she didn’t believe that. Wilson Fisk wasn’t a man capable of such feelings.

When she focused on June, Matt appeared at their sides.

“What’s wrong? You two okay?” Matt asked, a hand on either of their arms.

June nodded quickly, though she didn’t look his way. Her eyes were angled downwards towards their feet. Livia reached forward, pointedly ignoring Matt’s question, and lifted June’s face to meet her eyes.

“He can’t get to you.” Livia promised. “I won’t let him.”

“I know.” She sniffled. How had Livia not noticed the tears in her eyes? “I know…”

“She needs to get home.” Livia told Matt.

He immediately flagged her a taxi and Livia turned to see Fisk watching June go. There was an unmissable longing there and it made Livia want to claw his eyes out so he could never look at June again.

Livia looked over at Matt and June, the two engaging in a hushed conversation. He kissed her forehead before guiding her to the taxi. Livia smiled despite herself. When the door shut, she cleared her throat and faced Fisk.

“If you have the time, we’d love a word.” Livia spoke firmly. Matt was at her side then, taking a gentle hold of her arm. “Just a quick chat...”

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?” Fisk answered. He looked between the two, glanced in the direction June’s taxi left in, and heaved a sigh. He hadn’t expected to see June again, let alone protected by Livia and Matt. Something about that made Livia happy. “I’d be happy to.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍

🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽

☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️

slightly less than 48 for 🔼 because it's the end of the chapter :

---

The doctor nods. “Alright. Let’s run a test, and see what we find.”

Which is how Shannon finds out, on a stormy afternoon, a month before they’re supposed to decide whether or not to have a third child, that she’s already pregnant. 

▶️

Eddie’s not a complete mess of a partner. He does remember Shannon’s appointment time. He does try to send her a timely message asking about it, as does Buck. However, with what started as dry thunderstorms across Los Angeles turning into full blown pouring rain, the 118 is busy. Call after call. 

She replies to them in their group chat.

All is good. I’ll tell you after your shift. Don’t worry ❤️

Which actually doesn’t make him feel any better.

“What do you think that means?” Buck asks. 

Eddie frowns. “Yeah, it wasn’t exactly comforting.” 

“Right, because if it’s nothing, she could say it over text,” Buck says. 

Yep. That’s what Eddie was worried about. 

“I guess… I guess maybe we call her?” Eddie suggests.

Buck nods. “Yeah. Make her spill.”

Shannon probably just doesn’t want them to be distracted at work. But it’s her health. She’s more important. He’ll be distracted until she tells them the truth. 

But as he reaches for his phone, the alarm sounds for another call. Of course it does. 

“After,” Buck shrugs. 

Eddie nods. “After.”

And it feels like the universe’s idea of a red fucking herring. A cruel little joke. He spends the whole call nervous about Shannon, until the moment Buck is struck by lightning.

---

21 for 🔍 :

---

Buck frowns. He doesn’t feel… That’s not what he’s trying to say. He doesn’t want a psychiatrist appointment. He just wants memories he now knows are missing. That he now knows are different from what his parents have told him.

“Yeah,” Buck says anyway. Because he doesn’t trust anything. “Maybe.”

🔍

When he gets home that evening, Buck stews over whether or not to turn his phone back on. Eventually he’ll need to. He knows he needs it for everyday life. But if he does turn it on, all his questions and doubts and fears will all be in his face again. Not that they’re gone at the moment. They’re very much still looming. But he can ignore the problem, like this. He can’t if that guy calls him back. 

What if that guy calls him back?

Maybe it's time you learn the lesson again. How to be alone.

---

Not quite 45 for ☣️ because it's the end of the chapter:

---

“Sorry,” Buck whispers.

“You’re sorry I’m gay?” Eddie asks. 

“No,” Buck says. “Sorry you couldn’t talk to me about it.”

Eddie swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing a little.

“Thank you.”

Buck feels like he’s capitulated a little, but he can’t bring himself to care. He should have been someone Eddie could go to. Everyone else was dead. Or, at least, that was the world they were living in at the time. 

“Did you really just do it to make me mad?” Eddie asks after a moment. They’re almost back at Maddie’s. They don’t have much longer to talk and Eddie knows it.

“It was a reason,” Buck shrugs. “Just not the only reason.”

Eddie sits with that for the rest of the drive. 

When they finally pull into Maddie’s driveway, and Eddie puts the Prius in park, he turns to look at Buck. His expression is very serious. 

“We need to focus on Bobby, Hen, and Chim,” Eddie says.

Buck nods. That goes without saying.

“But if, at the end of all this, you realize the other reason is a bit more important?” Eddie finishes. “I’ll still be here.”

[gncc]

Welcome to GNCC!

This is a CC finds blog centered around CAS content that is unisex, compatible with multiple frames, pride content, or which seems fitting for GNC, androgynous, or nonbinary Sims, because trans and GNC sims deserve to be just as fashionable as everybody else.

Reblogged CC will fall under one of the following categories:

Stated to be unisex in its post, or has an opposite frame version I have also reblogged

Not stated to be unisex, but tested in my own game and determined to have no frame restrictions (while still looking good)

Not be unisex, but be explicitly GNC/trans friendly CC modelled for a certain frame (such as dresses for the masculine frame, or binders for the feminine frame)

Not be unisex, but be explicitly pride-themed CC, or CC which helps portray a disability

Tags, messaged posts, and requests to find a certain type of CC are always welcome! In order to organize some common requests, you can find an FAQ below the cut.

How can I get rid of the breasts on female sims, or add them to male sims?

There's a cheat in the base game to do this! With "testingcheats true" and "cas.fulleditmode on" enabled, go into live mode and set the sim you want to change as your active sim. Then, use "traits.equip_trait trait_Breasts_ForceOff" to remove breasts, or "traits.equip_trait trait_Breasts_ForceOn" to add breasts. Open the sim in CAS, and the changes should be made! Note that this is fully reversible. It also does not stop sims from wearing the default underwear of their set gender. It doesn't effect the frame or gender permissions of clothing.

Are there any essential CAS sliders you'd recommend?

I will always recommend the Female Chest Depth/Width Slider, because— while it's a nice slider to have in general— masculine-framed female sims lack a chest width slider, which masculine-framed male sims have. This slider helps make more consistent body changes across the genders/frames. For my own purposes, I get a lot of use out of the Thicc King & Queen Jaw Sliders, the Adams Apple Slider, the Shoulder Shape Slider, and the Experimental Presets & Sliders. I use a lot more presets and such in my own game, but I think these ones are specifically useful in creating diverse sims and working around some limitations of vanilla TS4.

Do you have a tag directory?

Not yet, but I'm trying to figure out the best way to make one. For now, feel free to send an ask with what you're looking for, and I'll try to send the right tag your way.

My ask was never answered, did Tumblr eat it?

Maybe, but probably not. At several points I have taken sudden hiatuses with this blog, or not been able to answer a request right away— it feels awkward to try to answer when too much time has passed, so I unfortunately don't really get around to some of them. Please, always feel free to send a second ask if I haven't responded in a week or so! Very specific requests I may just be trying to find something for, but if it's something smaller I've probably just forgotten or put it off too long.