flamestoked

[flamestoked]

whenever you feel you're about to lose control, just take my hand and give it a little squeeze.

Dᴀʀᴋ ᴇʏ��s flicker to the other's face, and it's momentarily that something clears up over them. Just a moment. It's not that he's gone, it's just that it's hard to think sometimes through the thick fog of violence, of hunger, of yearning, of blood. He doesn't expect Jon to understand, not to the same degree — this wasteland is a Watcher's paradise for obvious reasons, and while they are both changed, are both monsters, are both so very hungry, seeing and knowing is nothing like the violence, the anger, the need to tear and rip and take a life and stain his hands anew, as if they are ever clean, as if the blood is not constant on them, as if they are not ever not coated in it, wet and glistering.

Hands that he looks down to now, and that are not made to hold anyone else's anymore. They are to grip around the axe. They are to tear through limbs and organs. They are to destroy. They are not to hold. If he were to take Jon's hand and squeeze as he says, he would break it.

There are moments where he's more lucid than others. This is one. None of them are a mercy: he hates what he has become. What he has been made. A part of him is bitter towards Jon for it, but they are both monsters now. They are both something worse than what should walk the earth, apocalyptic hellscape or not. They are both — wrong. He does not deserve comfort. Has not, in a long time.

"What if I don't want it?" His voice is so raw from disuse. But what is worse: control, and being aware of what you have become and what you have done, and have to do to go on? Or a lack of it and doing worse things? What is worse? Being a more awful monster, or being aware of it?

[flamestoked]

i never understand why people throw rice at weddings anyway.

"I ᴛʜɪɴᴋ it has to do with like, old timey people hoping for kids? Like, here, the seeds for the future or some shit. Or they just really hated people getting married and hoped they would get attacked by birds. Which, honestly, I can get behind. Just to be a little hater and throw some rice so people get fucked up Alfred Hitchcock style."

He is incredibly wise, thank you. He doesn't even know how they got here. He just wanted to actually eat his rice. His cooked rice. With sauce. Without birds. Or marriage proposals.

"Why, did people do that at yours?"

[flamestoked]

i know i'll do something crazy and just ruin the whole thing.

"Mʜᴍ. Yᴇᴀʜ. That does sound like you."

He could be supportive. He could say that no, this won't happen. He could say he has Jon's back (which he has, even if sometimes more begrudgingly than other times). He could be nice about it. Or simply sound less cheerful than he does right now. But in his experience, trying to talk Jon out of that mood by actively listening and being supportive doesn't help much. It's not that he won't do that, later, when he's a bit more calmer, but first it's more important to get him out of his head before he gets in too deep and sulks.

"Remember the time we had to pick up crickets for the lizard Artifacts kept around, and it was fucking hot, and you didn't want to smash them in your bag so you put them on the cash table where we also got some books and told the horrified cashier it's lunch without specifying it was for, you know, a lizard? Sure sounds like you."

[flamestoked]

you think i got this old by being stupid?

"I ᴅᴜɴɴᴏ. You could have been, like, really lucky. And you made some questionable decisions for sure. Otherwise you wouldn't be here so often."

He's teasing. Perhaps. He really cannot say why anyone would willingly spend time at the Institute, but it's hardly up for him to question. It's a distraction, if nothing else. He likes the guy: not in a "would ever be friends with him if they met in other circumstances" way, not even in a "we are friends by circumstance" way, but in a "I'm stuck at this job for the foreseeable future and you're good to talk to and talking to you gets me out of actually doing my job in this moment" way. And he's recruiting Peter into the scheme of using memes on the official account against Jon's wishes. Well. Slowly. Once Peter has finally a good enough grasp on what a meme is, anyway.

"How old are you, anyway? Retirement calling? Should I start calling you dad or grandpa?"

[flamestoked]

"I wouldn't stab him here. Too many witnesses."

Hᴇ ɢʀᴏᴀɴs in low frustration, and it's only partly made up, partly very real. Given, he hadn't been thinking about stabbing necessarily — although that has some appeal though, his initial thought had been strangling, if only so he shuts the fuck up — but Char just knows him too well.

And raises a very good point. It's not as satisfying to think about messing the asshole up if there's a very real chance he's going to be pulled off him before he's done.

"Fine. But I really, really, really want to." So does she, he knows. It's why they make a good team.

"We can switch out all of the coffee in the jars upstairs with ground chili flakes?" And they both know he knows. Good. Hopefully the thought alone makes him choke.

[flamestoked]

SENTENCE MEME SORROW-SCOPES FROM TWITTER (PART THREE)

"Positivity is a state of mind. Unfortunately, you'll never be able to afford to live in that state."

"This is a great week to come out of your shell and reveal your soft, delicious underbelly to nearby predators. Wait, pretend you didn't hear that second part."

"Today you will receive an affectionate, supportive visit from someone close to you. They will come into your home unannounced and say kind platitudes in a soothing register. After they leave, it will slowly dawn on you that they never once blinked or breathed."

"They say laughter is the best medicine but this week you'll really need penicillin. However, you won't get it in time."

"Your fortune will change for the better this week as you drop from number 3 to number 5 on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted list."

"The good news is you finally discover that you are no longer alone in the world. The bad news is you need to hire an exterminator."

"Be like water. Sink down into an underground aquifer and stay hidden for centuries."

"It always seems impossible until it's done. Except in your case, you can't do anything."

"Crying in public is nothing to be ashamed of. And everyone needs a hobby."

"You feel superior to the people who get depressed in fall and winter because you can be depressed in beautiful, abundant sunlight."

"You'll finally grow a spine this week. This is not a metaphor, this is a violation of human cloning laws."

"What doesn't kill you will camp out in the hills and patiently wait."

"Instead of trying to improve your life, you're reading this and doing nothing."

"Like a ship on a storm-wracked sea, your future will feature shivering timbers, foamy waves, and the possibility of scurvy. Eat some fruit."

"Did you remember to look in the roomba for any incriminating evidence?"

"New day, new you! Hide the body of the old you before they figure out what you have done."

"You will find love this week! It will be fucking terrible."

"Someone will offer you the moon this week. Decline politely because you do not want someone with that kind of technology angry with you."

"You'll be like a kid in a candy store this week, unable to afford anything."

"You will awake one morning from uneasy dreams to find yourself transformed in your bed into a gigantic insect. And buddy, it'll be a huge improvement."

"The weekend is just another reminder of how sad and lonely your life is."

"Might as well go into the forbidden woods, what else is there to do at this point?"

"You will not die alone. You will die surrounded by a crowd of sheering onlookers as you slowly lose consciousness."

"You being yourself isn't really working for anybody."

It just says ferret problems, ghost bones, and a cheese hangover, so good luck with all that."

"Don't feel bad about failing. No one cares enough about you to notice."

"The cruel little voice in your head is right about you. It's also super fun at parties and has twice as much sex as you."

"You notice that birds start to line up to stare when you go outside. You finally ask why and one crow lays a map at your feet. You follow the map and it leads to a broken vending machine. Inside the vending machine is a Crystal Pepsi. Anyway, life is pain."

"You do not have a doppelganger. You were a mistake that was not repeated."

"A transformation is coming, but not like a butterfly. More like werewolf."

"You are going to ruin your life this week, but no one will be able to tell the difference."

"In the symphony of life, you are playing the kazoo."

"Don't let your negative feelings about the past affect your negative feelings about the future."

"If at first you don't succeed, try giving up and going back to bed."

"You will turn over a new leaf this week, but the other side will have a little sticker that says 'you are incapable of change'."

"Um, better luck next life, I guess."

[flamestoked]

SENTENCE MEME THE GOLDEN GIRLS / SEASON 01 EPISODE 02

you're not getting married on an island by a priest wearing clam diggers.

your wedding day should be the most beautiful day of your life.

if you want to invite him, i'm willing to keep the peace.

now call him and tell the dirtbag he can come.

i just want to get it all out of my system.

i never understand why people throw rice at weddings anyway.

she's been pilfering cheese balls.

he used to bring me tulips every time we had a fight.

approximately how many feet do you see in a week?

there aren't too many people around who could swallow their pride after what went down between us.

i want you to take a deep breath and think pleasant thoughts.

i know i'll do something crazy and just ruin the whole thing.

if anything awful happens, it's on your head.

we better stick to her like a tight shirt on a sweaty farmhand.

it's always a pleasure to get a drink for an attractive woman.

have you ever met a man who knows how to push all your buttons?

whenever you feel you're about to lose control, just take my hand and give it a little squeeze.

you know i can't cut loose with a priest around.

do you want to spend the rest of your life rotting away in some disgusting jail cell, bribing screws for cigarettes and toilet paper?

i wouldn't stab him here. too many witnesses.

you're acting like a jerk.

if you're angry at him, tell him.

you don't have to kill him.

anger is a lot like a piece of shredded wheat caught in your teeth.

you think i got this old by being stupid?

you walked out on me and didn't have the decency to tell me you were leaving.

a total stranger told me that my marriage was over.

you had a choice and you took the easy way out.

now you're here in front of me and you can't run away.

i finally get to have what you tried to cheat me out of.

there will always be a little part of him that stays with me.

[flamestoked]

@bornbreathless | cont.

Yeah. That's fair. He's most definitely never, ever going to hear the end of that. She's going to bring this up every single day.

[ Text ] I don't know if you remember where I work [ Text ] It's going to take me forever to financially recover from this [ Text ] I can cook though and not just because I have no money now to take you out

[flamestoked]

     "Cᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ anything from tax fraud to murder, honestly."

     Which, no. He doesn't truly believe it's murder (even if both of the guesses would be right on the money, and then some), otherwise he wouldn't be quite so relaxed. He's not really showing any visual reaction to being called out right: it's an open secret down here that he doesn't mind a little bit of trespassing or inside news to figure things out, and so far nobody bothered to do anything about it. Probably because they all do it, at least in Archive. He's not actively seen Jon do it, yet, but he's been dating the guy for long enough to know that's more by chance than by it not actually happening.

     "If I had to pin it down, from the way you talk? Embezzlement with some blackmail. Probably a couple crooked lawsuits. I mean, no offense, but we also know the law in your folk's tax bracket isn't the same as the law is in mine."

     "Cᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ anything from tax fraud to murder, honestly."

     Which, no. He doesn't truly believe it's murder (even if both of the guesses would be right on the money, and then some), otherwise he wouldn't be quite so relaxed. He's not really showing any visual reaction to being called out right: it's an open secret down here that he doesn't mind a little bit of trespassing or inside news to figure things out, and so far nobody bothered to do anything about it. Probably because they all do it, at least in Archive. He's not actively seen Jon do it, yet, but he's been dating the guy for long enough to know that's more by chance than by it not actually happening.

     "If I had to pin it down, from the way you talk? Embezzlement with some blackmail. Probably a couple crooked lawsuits. I mean, no offense, but we also know the law in your folk's tax bracket isn't the same as the law is in mine."

[flamestoked]

hivebody​:

     ”I DON’T think she’d have let herself be known well. She always paid attention not too reveal too many personal details.” Another chuckle. “Then again, I came down here last, so I wasn’t exactly the right person for her to confide in. She disappeared not too long after.” And it affected her. Not in some deep, heartbreaking way, but finding out your boss went missing and no one has the slightest idea of her current whereabouts or state was quite the emotional roller coaster for anyone, even for someone whose signature on her contract hadn’t dried yet. She wonders if the police is still taking care of the case. She wonders if Gertrude is still alive, only out of reach, keeping an eye on everything from afar. She wonders if her corpse is being eaten alive by maggots and worms right now as she and Tim are chatting amiably in the archives. She wonders and wonders and knows she won’t find any answers.

     Her smile at his last remark is genuine. Seems genuine enough. Hard to tell the difference. “You’re doing the entire Institute a favor. I think he’d lock himself up for good if I tried to remind him he has a lunch break like everyone else.” To be entirely honest: Jon scares her a little bit. He treats everyone just as rudely - although Martin does seem his favorite victim, and Jane can’t help but be glad it’s not her - but there’s a light in his eyes when he looks at her that has her recoil. As if his gaze were a magnifying glass and her the tiny ladybug being examined against her will. It’s just a stupid, bad feeling clinging to her skin she can get rid of easily, but thinking about it this way doesn’t help with the uneasiness. 

     But the point is: she wishes she had anyone this close to her. Anyone that cares about her so much that will remind her to eat if she needs to. She does have a few friends, but she doubts any of them would help her this way. Until some weeks ago she’d have thought Sarah would’ve been the one, but given the recent developments she is crossed off the list as well. 

     She reaches for her own mug, filled to the brim with herbal tea, and takes a sip, bracelets and earrings ringing quietly with every movement she makes. (She likes it. She finds it soothing. It helps her ground herself.) “Do you think she’ll show up again? Or-” She falters for a moment, then goes on: “Or will someone find her. Dead or alive.” 

      "Nᴏ, I don't think so." He settles the empty mug down finally after holding onto it for far too long, instead reaching up to undo and redo his ponytail. It doesn't get any more tidy from it: if anything, it looks even more of a mess than it did before, and the strain that kept falling into his eyes before loosens up nearly immediately again to return to it's place dangling in front of his left eye, as if someone cut straight through it. "Don't know if she's dead, but I doubt we'll see her again. If she's alive, she probably had enough of this place and called it a day. God knows I can't see any of those boxes anymore. If I was her, I too would have just crammed everything in there and walked out this place never to be seen again. Maybe raise a finger or two. Mirroring on both hands."

      He's smiling, but that part had been a lie, of course. Oh, he doesn't doubt he'll never see Gertrude Robinson again: and he's not too mad about it, actually. But there's enough other reasons why he's here, and so far, he's not made much progress. Or... any, lately. It's with a sting of guilt he thinks about how he let his research run into the sands lately, and that's not something Jane needs to know. That's not even something Sasha knows.

      "Unlike she like, fell into one of those huge suitcase like file cabinets and trapped herself. In that case, I'm calling that Martin finds her, and probably passes out from the smell." Is that a bad thing to joke about? Oh, definitely. Horrible, even. But somehow he doubts Jane will call him out for it. Or if she will, well, that's one more thing to get her out of her shell at the very least. "Or it's something really wild. Like she had an epic fight with a giant serpent. I think there's a statement here where someone talks about a book snake. Jon assumes they got high and mistook the little bound in bookmark for a snake."

      He shifts his weight, leaning a bit closer. "Why? What's your theory? I'm dying to hear it now, actually."

[flamestoked]

@sealone | cont.

     "Wᴇʟʟ, ғɪɢᴜʀᴇs. I mean, nobody in their right mind goes 'this is the person I'm married to. I absolutely hate their guts'." He pauses after that sentence and makes a face, one of disgust. "Actually, scratch that. It's a thing way too many people do. Never understood that." It's one of the strangest apparently normal things that make absolutely no sense, but that's hardly the point right now.

     "No, but like. My point is. My point is." He waves his hands around, loosely pointing at the taller and broader man (although not as much as one would think at first glance, if Tim ever were to stand up straight instead of slouching whenever he's down here, or as he is now, sitting in some weird angle on a desk, the difference would be far less than it seems). "There's some definitely illegal shit happening. I'm not saying that in a joke way but in a legit-this-is-against-the-law. Which, hey! Cool. We're all for a little bit of going on the other side of the fence." His hand turns, open palm up. "It's just a conclusion. Nothing that serious, man."

[flamestoked]

heyerald​:

     SLAUGHTER FEELS like an endless stream of blood and anger, to the point his own hands feel sticky and dirty even if they’re pristine, and it is now flowing out of Tim and closer to him, perhaps to hurt him, perhaps to push him away. Tim’s emotions resonate louder and louder and Jon hears and feels and Sees them because that’s just his nature now, in the same Tim’s now is quenching the thirst of his axe that’s also his own thirst. None of us expected to find the other so changed. None of them wanted this for the other, despite all the harsh words and disagreements. 

     I’m sorry.

     He looks genuinely taken aback by that one sentence, brows knitting and wrinkles carving lines in his forehead. “I’m - sorry?” He looks so human. Unbelievably so. Painfully so. Nothing about his appearance suggests he’s the same man as once, but that look in his eyes - that feels so familiar and simple that it looks out of place in this landscape.

     Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ the bastard will make him explain himself, and in that, drag more out of him than he wants to admit. He's always been like that, probably not even on purpose, back when they were two idiots working together on cramped desks in Research (a lifetime ago), and it made sense it would get worse, not better. That making you overexplain things you don't want to think about or admit to things you haven't ever towards anyone, and not even without meaning it, and that without saying much of himself.

     Tim doesn't want any of it.

     "Whatever you were going to say." His throat hurts. He's not used to talking and it's obvious, his voice is scratching. (Bleeding at the edges, like everything he is now.) "I don't want to hear it. No explanation, no weird statement thing, nothing."

[flamestoked]

bornbreathless​:

She wants to say that it’s not something she’s decided, that it’s just a fact. That it’s ridiculous to think that this is something they can get past if they just try hard enough, like it’s nothing more important than arguing about how best to load a dish washer. That they can ignore it as much as they like, but that little nugget of repulsion and resentment is just going to fester and grow until he can’t stand the sight of her. That that’s what this was always destined to become, and that it’s her fault for not calling things off before they got so serious.

But she doesn’t. Can’t. There’s a tightness in her chest that threatens to spill over into tears if she’s not careful because he’s offering the chance for them to try and it’s more than she ever would have dared hope for.

“I’m not…mad at you. You know that, right? I was never mad at you. You haven’t done anything wrong.” All things considered, he’d actually had a fairly low-key reaction to finding out his girlfriend was an undead monster, but it doesn’t feel like the time for that kind of joke. Instead she tentatively reaches out. Doesn’t take his hand, barely even touches it, just…a brief nudge. “I…I want to try…if you do. But just. Just not because you feel…guilty, you know?”

     "I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ." He moves slightly, and it's automatic. Just as much nearly taking her hands as she had done, and that's something, isn't it? It's a start. It's something small. "Do it because I feel guilty, I mean. I — I've been kind of a prick, and I can't promise I won't be still, but you never had much of an issue calling it out before." It still feels awkward, those words leaving his mouth and hanging in the air like something stained.

     "It's just. Mh. Not exactly the kind of thing you say 'okay' and move on to. Takes a while to really... settle." And there's another thing that sits on his tongue, but that one at least he has the decency to swallow down. That she's not like the other — things. Doesn't need a genius to figure out that that's hardly something appropriate to say. "Sorry."

[flamestoked]

bornbreathless​:

“If it makes you feel any better, no-one else seems to have figured it out either. Which honestly is a little concerning considering where we work.” God, can she just shut up already? Weak attempts at humour aren’t exactly helpful here.

Char sighs and lets her head fall to the side, cheek resting against the back of the sofa so she can watch Tim, uncertain even what it is that she’s looking for. Anger? Fear? She doesn’t think she could stand him being afraid of her. She’d almost prefer those over this blank numbness that seems to have settled. Her hand twitches with the instinct to reach out to him but she resists.

"Do you…I mean, if there’s…anything you want to know? I-I’ve never actually talked about this before but…I’ll answer, you know? The things I can. I don’t…I don’t really have a lot of answers…to give…” She trails off, aware that she’s rambling and it can’t be doing any good.

     "Fᴇᴇʟs ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ to ask then, no? If you don't know either." Thinking is hard. It will get better, eventually, when the first surprise has settled, and then he'll know what to make of it. Or that's the idea, at the very least. Will know what to do and say like he always does.

     (Maybe it will be anger. Maybe it won't be. It's... just something to wrap his head around. And vaguely, on the edge of all those swimming thoughts, he's aware that this is harder for her, but he can't comprehend that enough to offer any help or any reaction that's not — this.)

     (Later. Maybe.)

     "I mean, then we're both just confused and stumped." A low sigh, and he wants to... god, he wants to force himself out of that cotton candy thinking state. Have some sort of proper reaction. "Just. Not how I expected today to go."

[flamestoked]

@bornbreathless | cont.

     "Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴ that as an attack, you know that, right?" He sounds humored, own arms coming to rest around her, but there's that constant worry nagging down under his voice, that one that tells him he did something wrong, that he upset her. In that matter, they are quite the match made. (Not just that, of course, but it's one of many.)

     "I'm just saying — not planning to go anywhere. I'm here with you, and I'll tell you however many times you need to hear it. Promise." A short pause, and the smile gets a little bit more prominent in his voice. "Actually, more. Until you're absolutely tired of it and beg me to stop. It's actually hell and this is your punishment. Sorry about that."

[flamestoked]

he sits next to Tim on the worn-out, coffee-stained couch in the break room, chipped mug in hand and exhaustion written all over his face. they are close, so close that their shoulders are touching and Jon might or might not be leaning against the other. (he needs a moment. he will be fine and get up and back to his office soon, but.... in a little while.)

@heyerald

     Sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ knows him only vaguely, only on the surface, would probably expect some stupid joke or other comment right now, something humorous, not entirely appropriate to the situation maybe. But it only takes one quick glance at Jon and his own features soften, and he shifts slightly, not out of the way, simply making space in a way they fit together effortlessly, in a way their bodies slot in place as if they are meant to be one entity. Intertwined in a subtle way.

     "You should call it a day." He's gentle with that, too, knowing Jon will likely disagree. "You've been pulling long hours all week. You want me to give you a lift home?"

[flamestoked]

[id: a five panel comic drawn digitally of jon sims, a black man with long curly hair pulled into a messy braid, and tim stoker, a filipino man with jaw-length dark brown hair, sides cut shorter in an undercut. the dialogue is formatted from a series of text messages. in the first panel jon leans close to show tim his phone screen. jon says, “wanna see something.” and reveals a screenshot of an internet browser with 436 open tabs. he goes on to say, “look at this. i cant close any of them. i need them.” in the second panel tim, looking concerned, says, “what the fuck is wrong with you.” jon, turning away from tim, replies, “so much.” tim says “too much?” and jon replies “i was vulnerable and opened my heart and my tabs to you. this is how you treat me.” in the third panel, jon turns back towards tim suddenly, shoving his phone in tims face to reveal that he now has only 412 tabs open. he says, “will this make you love me? respect me?” while tim smiles slightly. in the fourth panel, jon gestures as he rants, “i refuse to close my carcinisation tab.” tim replies, “your... what tab...” and jon responds, “crabs. they all become crabs in the end. going and going and going and suddenly! claws! little sideways walking! we all become crab.” in the last panel, jon looks at his phone with a troubled expression while tim points at his screen. jon shows tim a screenshot of the wikipedia page for carcinisation and says, “evolution sometimes just takes a look at what we have become and simply decides that maybe it’s best if this one was a crab actually.” tim says, “now explain the other 411.” and jon responds, “no.” end id]