#HOLY SHIT IT'S MR INNIT

[starstrvckfool]

My brain remembered the 2021 tubbo Halloween stream and remembered also I'm a tommyinnit fan 💥

[random-thot-generator]

Better Not to Know + Pt. 2

KYLE GAZ GARRICK x FEM READER

-

Summary: It's been months, but you've not been able to forget the stranger you hooked up with in a night club bathroom. Then again, it hard to forget someone who left such a lasting impression.

Warnings/Tags: no serious warnings, mild profanity, no smut this round, no use of Y/N

(Notes: This one wouldn't leave me alone either, so here's a second installment. Bit of a cliffhanger at the end. Yeah, I'm a literary sadist.)

banners & dividers by: @saradika-graphics

-

March comes in a like a lion, the wind and rain making it a misery to step foot out-of-doors. Small wonder that your boss decides to send you to pick up his dry cleaning for him instead of doing it himself. Why risk ruining his tailored suits and Italian shoes, when he could just send you, who bought your clothes off the clearance rack?

Umbrella clutched in your fist, you hurry along the sidewalk, dodging puddles and people as you make your way to the dry cleaners. You're relieved to see there's not a line, counting your blessings as you step through the door. An automated chime announces your arrival— bing-bong.

"Hullo. Can I help you?" A young woman with colorful tats sleeving her arms and teal hair gives you a customer service smile from behind the counter.

You pull the ticket from the pocket of your raincoat and slide it over with a tight smile. "Just a pick-up."

The young woman picks up the slip of paper, heavily lined eyes scanning the ticket before flickering over your damp, bedraggled form. "Be just a tick, luv," she murmurs, disappearing through a curtained doorway.

With nothing better to do, you drift over to a display of travel-size stain remover sticks, not bothering to turn around when the door opens, a gust of wind fluttering the hem of your coat. The automated chime sounds, drawing Tattoo Girl out of the back with what you assume is your boss' dry cleaning held aloft in one hand.

"Well, hullo, handsome!" she greets her new customer with a wide, toothy smile. "Got your uniform ready. Just need to take care of this lady first."

You don't look back to see who she's addressing, all your attention focused on fishing your boss' credit card out of your pocket. You do absently notice that the new customer smells nice. You catch notes of sandalwood and pine, a hint of musk, definitely masculine and strangely familiar. You also don't fail to notice how Tattoo Girl keeps glancing over your shoulder as she rings you up, the remnants of her wide smile still lingering.

"Here you go," she says, handing over the dry-cleaning bag and receipt, her eyes already focused on her more desirable customer.

"Thanks," you mutter, drawing the bag over the counter and draping it over your arm. Pulling the sides of your coat together, you turn, curious eyes flicking up to catch a glimpse of the man who has so distracted the pretty cashier, then almost trip over your own feet as you stumble to a halt.

"No bloody way," you breathe in a shocked whisper, staring up at the face that's been haunting you for the last five months.

His eyes widen at the same time yours do, recognition clear in his expression. "Christ, I don't believe it," he mutters, a mystified smile curving his sensuous lips. "It's really you."

You feel the same way. You can't believe it's really him, the gorgeous bloke from the club, Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous himself. "Um— wow. H-Hi."

His soft brown eyes register surprise but also pleasure as they lock with yours and his mega-watt smile appears. "Long time, no see, pet. How ya been?"

You gaze up at him dumbfounded, shaken all the way down to your sensible shoes. It's really him. Holy shit! "I, uh... I'm g-good. And you?" Christ! When did you develop a stammer?

He steps closer, his smile turning into something softer and intimate. "Been doin' alright." His eyes dart over your face, taking you in as if he still can't believe you're real. "This is bloody mad, innit? You wouldn't believe how many times I've..." He lets his words trail off, shaking away his dazed expression. "Ah, never mind. 'M just beyond chuffed to see ya again, pet. You look— lovely."

At least he's pleased to see me again, you think. That's a good sign, isn't it? You adjust the dry-cleaning bag in front of you, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Tattoo Girl clears her throat, drawing your attention back to the counter. You glance over to see a perturbed little frown on her face, her eyes bouncing back and forth between you and the gorgeous man standing by your side.

"Oh! Sorry," you apologize, stepping away from the counter. You glance back up at him, feeling flustered and more than a little overwhelmed. Gripping the dry-cleaning bag closer to your body, you ignore the fact that you're probably wrinkling your boss' clothes.

"Ha. Making a right nuisance of myself, aren't I?" you murmur with a nervous titter. "It was, um, nice seeing you again, uh..." You give him a sheepish little grin, feeling terribly awkward and thoroughly embarrassed. "I-I'm so sorry. I don't think I ever got your, uh... name." God, how embarrassing...

He shuffles his feet and grins, looking a bit sheepish himself. "It's, uh, it's Kyle," he answers in a soft voice, holding out his hand. "Kyle Garrick." He dips his chin down to meet your eyes, giving you a teasing little smirk. "I don't think I got your name, either."

Taking his hand, you utter your name with a dazed expression as his touch sends warm tingles of awareness shooting up your arm. Neither one of you let go until the Tattoo Girl clears her throat again and sniffs in irritation.

Kyle's brows tick together in mild irritation as he shoots a quick look in her direction, then flicks his gaze back to you. "Would ya mind waiting while I take care of this? It'll just take a moment," he says, sounding anxious. "I'd really like to catch up with ya, maybe buy ya lunch or a coffee?"

Your head bobs in eager agreement. "Yeah, sure. I've got time."

Honestly, you didn't, but to hell with your boss. This is far more important to you.

Stepping out of the way, you wait by the door for him, your mind racing. As you stare at his broad back, your teeth worry at your bottom lip, wondering what he will have to say, then fret over what you're going to say to him. Is he just hoping to hook up again or does his interest go deeper than that? The way he's acting, it seems like it's more than that, but who knows? It's not like you really know him that well. Or at all, really. Jesus, this is nerve-wracking...

By the time Kyle has paid for his dry cleaning and is turning around, you have worked yourself up into a jittery mess. His smile dims as he takes in your nervous expression, concern plain on his face.

"Ya alright, pet?" he asks, stepping close to grasp your elbow. "You look like you're about to be sick."

Shaking your head, you offer him a weak smile. "No, no, I'm fine. I just feel a bit peckish," you lie, not wanting to make a scene. You can see Tattoo Girl staring daggers at the two of you, a petulant frown on her face. "Could we go ahead and get that coffee now? I think I need to sit down."

"Yeah, of course, love," Kyle murmurs, caressing your arm with a worried look. "C'mon, let's go."

He takes your umbrella from your numb fingers and opens the door, holding it for you as he snaps the brolly open over his head. Lifting his arm, he lays it across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he shifts the umbrella to shield you both from the rain. Casting another worried glance down at you, he leads you to a nearby sandwich shop and quickly ushers you inside.

"Here we go," he murmurs, guiding you over to a table. He takes the dry-cleaning bag from you and drapes it over the back of a chair with his own. "Here, love. Let me take your coat," he offers as he steps behind you, and you're so flustered that you let him slip the coat from your shoulders before realizing your mistake. Quaking in your shoes, you turn to face him.

Kyle stands frozen, his mouth open to say something, his eyes now riveted on your waistline. You glance down as well then stare up into his shocked face, your hands going to your stomach to splay over the gentle swell of your baby bump.

A pained grimace twists your features as you whisper in a shaky voice, "I suppose I should explain."

-

part 1 part 3

[pitbullwithaship]

DOCTOR WHO LIVEBLOG S4 EP8

Okay this is Silence in the Library and I've heard it's insane and weird and scary and maybesad(?) So. It's time

That's a cute little girl floating in midair

That's a gorgeous library, the kind I've always wanted to visit

Is this a psychoevaluation or something

Okay something is there

OMG ITS THE DOCTOR AND DONNA

I live jow they're just like oh hello tiny girl great day innit

I love books

That's a gorgeous library Jesus christ

Amazing

Yeah Donna spoilers tsk tsk

Ooh suspiciously empty

Sundays are pretty boring

Oh wow that's a large amount of living creatures

Silence

I love them just so much

That's a creepy person head egg face robot thing

Ah ominous message

COUNT THE SHADOWS HWHOT

Only kinda sorta lied

The shadows approach incredibly ominously and slowly

Oh they sped up

Yay Donna on the kick open

The little girl is a security camera then is that why they're interrogating her

It's dark

I hit myself on the head sometimes too, (the doctor is a neurodivergent icon)

Girlie

River Song!!!!!! I've heard of her!!

I like Archeologists they're nerds

The Doctor and Donna are icons

Maybe it's not irra- THATS WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY

Vashta Nerada ooOooOoooOOooOooOooO

PRETTY BOY lol

Don't be a dick to the personal assistant girl

Okay so they're dickheads

THE DIARY

Aww poor River Song

THE PHONE AND THE LITTLE GIRL AND THE ALARM AND THE SECURITY SYSTEM AND-

Those are good drawings

Curiosity fucked with the timelines and killed a fair few cats

Weaponised books

I like the personal assistant girl she seems nice

Mr Lux don't be Mr Fucks

Assistant girl don't go wandering off

Yeah Lux pay attention

ASSISTANT GIRL BE CAREFUL IM SORRY I DONT KNOW YOUR NAME

This is creepy as hell

SCREAM NO

Oh shit oh damn oh shit that's terrifying oh shit oh dear

RIP Miss Evangelista

Oh that's really horrifying and sad

Speak Donna

Oh my God that's torturous

Aww Doctor trying to comfort her

THE REAL WORLD IS A LIE HOLY SHIT HOLY FUCK ONLY HER

Donna why are you being weird

Aww River Song knows about her

Oh oh Donna

AIR PIRHANAS THATS SO COOL

Oh fuck oh fuck he's got two shadows that's fucking horrifying

Aww that's adorable she has a matching screwdriver

Tries to send her away

Actually sends her away

What! What! What! What! She screamed! What!

Oh shit it's in his suit

Okay he's dead

Oh shit his fucking skeleton is possessed

That's horrifying

SQUARENESS GUN WOW

SHE SAVED DONNA WHAT

OH FUCK OH FUCK DONNA IS THE EGG ROBOT THING THAT IS NOT IN ANY WAY BETTER

Oh poor Doctor oh poor Donna

OH FUCK A CLIFFHANGER I HATE THAT AND I DONT HAVE TIME TO WATCH MORE

[lovebillyhargrove]

Happy endings only. Life's a quest, innit

When Steve arrives at the hospital at around 7.30 pm on August 27th there's unusual commotion at the reception. He sees a couple of doctors who are not normally here so late.

"Good evening, Mrs. Marshall. How are you do.."

The nurse glances at him nervously. One glance, and Steve's worried sick. Did something bad happen while he was away ..

"Is everything alright?"

"He woke up, Steve! He woke up!!"

"What..?? Wait, that's.."

Steve's heartbeat deafens him. Is it real, or is he dreaming? He literally pinches himself, hard, has to make sure he's not sleeping and imagining it all.

"That's .. Really?!"

"Yes!"

Steve exhales, there's suddenly too much air in his lungs. He's feeling dizzy. Oh my god, he's going to faint, he's fainting..

Steve's grabbing the counter.

"When?"

"About an hour ago."

"Can I go see him?"

"Well, doctors are with him now, and I .. I really don't think it's a good idea right now. He seems.. disoriented. And angry."

"Angry? At who?"

"At everyone? He keeps asking why nobody told him and something else about a huge alien .. or a monster that is going to infect all of us .. he's probably still not in his right mind. We really hope his brain .. Doctors must run some tests to .. "

Mrs. Marshall looks at Steve and stops mid-sentence

"Everything is going to be alright. We called Dr. Owens, the one who brought him here on July 4th? Luckily, he was in Indianapolis. He is expected to arrive shortly."

"Yes, yes of course. So .. I can't go in? I just want to see him, even if for a second."

"Oh I don't really know, Steve.. Well, definitely not right now because the doctors are examining him at the moment. Everyone is so excited. Poor boy .. But you can stick around for a bit?"

"Sure. Thank you. I'll just wait here."

Steve is sliding down on a chair near the reception. He wants to see Billy so bad, he's been hoping for this moment for so so long, and now.. he's definitely happy but he's feeling physically unwell.

Steve sees a doctor opening the door of Billy's room and calling Mrs. Marshall in. The doctor is looking a bit .. disheveled. How many people are in there? What's going on? When can Steve finally see him?

Ten minutes later people are starting to leave Billy's room. Three doctors and two nurses.

Steve is getting up and looking around. His legs are bringing him closer to the room on autopilot. He'll just get a peek, no harm done. Just to make sure Billy's really woken up.

Steve opens the door slowly and sticks his head inside. Billy's is propped up in bed with pillows around him, wild hair and wild tired eyes.

Holy shit, this is real. He's awake.

It's another miracle. Billy is so thin and pale and he looks like a sick little child .. But he's awake. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Steve's not sure what or who he's thanking right now, but he really wants to let it out in the universe.

When Steve moves a bit further and opens his mouth to say something, Billy turns his head slightly and the tormented and very unchildlike look is landing on Steve's face.

"Oh hey, Harrington. What are you doing here?" In a raspy voice,

And not waiting for an answer.

"Get the fuck out."

"But Billy I just want to .."

"I don't want to see anybody. Get the fuck out. NURSE!!!!!!"

Steve shuts the door quickly and gets back to his chair. That did not go how he'd pictured it would. Oh fuck. His hands are trembling.

Billy's voice sounded so husky, so rough, just on the verge of frantic

Yet it was like music to Steve's ears. "Harrington." He fucking missed it. No-one calls Steve "Harrington" like that. Only Billy.

Mrs. Marshall rushes into Billy's room. She only stays there for a couple of minutes. When she's out, Steve's already at her side

"Why didn't he want to see me?"

"Oh, Steeve .. give him time. Can you imagine being in a coma? .. You can't. I can't. Give him time, everything will get better." There's almost motherly concern in Mrs. Marshall's voice. "The boy has been through so much."

Steve wants to say "You can't even begin to imagine through what" but bites his tongue. He hates it, that he can't really talk about what happened with someone, except Robin, Nancy and the kids. He'd really appreciate adult perspective on all of this. He'd really like to just .. talk to someone older than him. Hopper is missing, believed to be dead, Mrs. Byers is gone. Steve likes Dr. Owens, but it's not like he can stop by for a chat any time.

Steve sits down on the chair again. He's clearly not welcome here, but he doesn't want to go home.

What he really wants to do right now is to get on the rooftop and shout till his voice gets hoarse.

In Steve's mind it was, of course, more like .. he would hug Billy or .. or at least talk to him. He certainly didn't expect to be told to get the fuck out. Ouch.

Steve decides to stay here some more, because he literally can't imagine going home now. To do what? .. eat dinner? watch fucking TV?

Owens does arrive soon. He goes straight to Billy's room, nodding at Steve as he's passing him by.

Steve notices that twenty minutes later all doctors leave Billy's room and Owens stays there alone with Billy. When he finally goes out and addresses everyone who's waiting for him, he says:

"Well, he is a handful. If there's anything you need, contact me right away. We'll send in our person tomorrow to start psychological therapy. Thank you all for your service, you've been doing exceptional work here. We'll keep in touch."

He shakes hands with every doctor and every nurse.

"Steve! May I have a word with you?"

Owens remembers Steve. They had so much to talk about after the 4th of July.

***

Next week Billy proved to be very difficult. He only talked to the doctors and the nurses of the hospital. The ones who had been taking care of him for the last two months.

He threw a crutch at the psychologist who was sent by the government to have sessions with Billy. Next time the man returned, it was an open cup of jell-o.

He refused to see Max. When his father and step-mother came by, he pretended to be asleep, so their visit only lasted two minutes or so. They came back a couple of days later but Billy just happened to be asleep again. The nurse didn't let Neil wake him up. "Sleep is very important at this stage, Mr. Hargrove. Billy's gaining his strength back."

Steve could swear on his life, Billy and the nurses were in some kind of conspiracy. Hospital staff seemed to have a strange kind of rapport with Hargrove.

Dr. Owens came by again and managed to stay for 30 minutes in the room with Billy and, apparently, have a decent conversation. However, when it came down to signing non-disclosure, even Owens couldn't find the right approach to Billy and left with nothing but Billy's promise "to keep his mouth shut."

Steve has heard from the nurses that Billy's body is very weak. Repaired and not majorly broken anymore, but the muscles have gone weak. Atrophy. There's a long way ahead of him. But he is a determined one. A fighter. He gets off the bed, has already started walking around the room. Refuses to be helped in the bathroom.

Steve? Oh, he still keeps coming by every day. Today is day 7 of his visits when he actually doesn't get to see the patient. Comes to the hospital to hang around the reception. He wonders if the nurses are fed up with him already.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Miller, can you maybe ask him if he will see me today?"

It's easier to get an appointment with the Queen of England, for fuck's sake.

Steve doesn't mind.

He firmly believes in miracles. The universe has not let him down so far.

Mrs. Miller returns back smiling.

"It's a yes! He rolled his eyes and said "Whatever". I guess he's in a better mood today," - she says encouragingly.

Well, this is it. Steve's running a hand through his hair. He hopes he looks good.

He opens the door and looks inside the room

"Billy?"

A pause.

"The book's overdue at the library."

"W .. what?"

"Were you reading Shakespeare to me, Harrington?"

"Uhm.. yeah? Yeah, I was."

"Are you out of your mind? They all died in there. Way to motivate a guy to wake up from a coma."

"Well, it's the book that you.. do you remember? Was it you??"

"I remember, Harrington. My brain is fine. And I said they lacked communication! Speaking of, why the fuck no-one told me Hawkins is fucked up to unbelievable levels, huh?"

Here it comes. Steve's made it into the room and is standing near Billy's bed, contemplating if he should sit down or remain standing.

Here it comes.

"Billy, we .. we weren't really.. friends. Besides, we thought it was all finished when El closed the portal a year ago."

"Oh so only friends are allowed to know the truth? Only the chosen ones?? What about the rest of us, peasant folk? Not privy to the Knights of the Round Table shenanigans?"

"What.. ? What round table? Billy, listen. I know it's fucked up.. there's government involved and it's not so easy. Like.. they make everyone sign these non-disclosure papers .. you can't walk around talking about it with anyone you want."

"And yet, a bunch of snoopy kids were in on it."

"Exactly. Snoopy. They were just .. in it together basically from the beginning."

"Even Max?"

"Well, she .." - Steve's scratching his eyebrow. "Not .. not from the very beginning."

"Thought so."

"But I, I did sign that confidentiality pledge. They'll make you sign one too."

"Fuck them. They tried. I won't sign shit."

"But they will .."

"What, Harrington? They will what? What leverage do they have on me?"

"I don't know .. your family? Your life?"

Billy laughs bitterly

"My family? There are certain things about my family, that make me really doubt it can be used as leverage."

Steve's registering the words. Definitely needs to come back to that later.

"My life? I just nearly lost it. They can have it."

"Don't! Hey don't say that."

It's now or never.

Steve takes a deep breath and carefully touches Billy's fingers with his own.

"Your life is precious."

"That's just bullshit."

Billy's tensing up. His eyes slowly travel down to the place where Steve's touching Billy's fingers

There are so many things unsaid, the air is galvanized. It doesn't make it less real though.

It makes it surreal.

Billy's looking

But doesn't say anything

Steve takes Billy's hand in his own.

"Don't touch me, Harrington."

Hargrove is a handful. Steve wants it, all of it.

"Why not?"

"Because."

Steve is still holding Billy's hand in his own.

"Okay, look. I'm sorry, Billy. I am. I'm sorry I didn't warn you about any of that. But I didn't even know you were involved in this whole mess. Until I saw you there. It's a .. fucking long story and if you'll let me.. I'll explain everything."

Billy takes his hand away. Steve doesn't stop talking.

"And please, don't be so hard on Max. Just let her see you. Talk to her. They are kids and they were all alone with what they were dealing with. Usually there are .. adults .. to uh .. help in such situations. Or me. But I was held captive in a Starcourt underground base, and Hopper and Mrs. Byers, they were .. somewhere figuring some related stuff out, so the kids.. They didn't really have any guidance."

"Yeah tell that to Heather. To her parents. To the fucking families, Steve, who got killed."

"Billy .. It's not your fault. It's not my fault either, or Max's or any of the kids' who were involved in that. It's .. just Hawkins, man. Evil. Horrifying shit happens here. Thank god you got out of it alive."

Billy is silent. His eyes are closed.

"Okay."

"Okay?? That's it?"

"I'm tired."

"Alright. I'll come by tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Because I want to see you. And I want to talk more."

"Bye, Steve."

"Yeah .. Sleep well."

Steve's leaving the room. He wants to stay, he wants to tell Billy how much he has missed him, he wants to tell him that he still keeps all the notes in the drawer near his bed, and he keeps rereading them, he's learnt them all by heart.

Steve wants to .. say so much. Do so much.

They have time.

***

"Listen! It's raining. September rain."

Steve opens the window and fresh fragrant air is flooding Billy's room.

Steve visits Billy every day. He stays late and they talk, hushed voices in the dimly lit hospital room. It even feels kinda nice. Feels a bit like home.

Billy inhales the sweet autumn air with his whole chest. Slowly lets it out. Looks at the wall.

"So what are we now, Harrington?"

Steve both expected and isn't prepared for this question.

"Uhm .. I uh.. I guess we'll have to wait and see."

Hargrove's chuckling.

"How soon you're gonna be able to walk properly?"

"Why? Don't want me as a cripple??"

"Not that, you idiot."

Steve is taking Billy's hand. That's really all they've been doing. Holding hands like dumb teenagers.

"It's just.. it's the hospital. Like.. there's no privacy."

Steve's looking at Billy's lips. He wants to kiss him so bad

But he turns away and looks at the door. It doesn't even have a lock.

"See, any second anyone can walk in. I don't want our first kiss to be interrupted by a fainting nurse or a shrieking Max."

"Maybe nurses here are way more chill than they look."

"Yeah maybe. But still .."

Steve's looking at Billy's lips again. He wonders how long he'll be able to fight the urge, really? They are so kissable. Magnetic

"You know, I uh .. Billy's closing his eyes and putting his head back on the pillow. "I want to thank you. For coming here. Harrington. When I was unconscious, I heard you. I heard your voice mumbling something and I even felt your fingers touching my skin."

Billy opens his eyes and looks straight into Steve's. Drawls

"C'mon let's kiss. Just a small one, c'mon Steve.." Smiles. Pouts his lips, just a little

Steve's giggling

"No, Billy, not like this. Oh my god, you're so .."

"So .. what?"

"When are you getting out of here?"

"I don't know. Doctors are always going on how unsure they are I can take care of myself on my own. But .. I'm planning an escape, Harrington. Can't stay here any longer. Enough."

Billy's eyes are closed again, his lips part a bit and it looks like he's dozing off. Steve's watching him and can't, he absolutely can't stop himself. Steve gets closer to Billy's face and kisses him lightly on the cheek.

"How's that for our first kiss, Hargrove? It's not much but.."

It's the most tender kiss he's ever had. The most meaningful one.

There's life and death in that kiss, and Steve's falling even further.

If he's losing his mind over a little kiss on the cheek, what would happen when he. When they .. You know?

He kisses him again. On the cheek. And this time? Billy moans. Just a slight moan leaving his lips, and he turns the head to the other side

And, excuse me, this quiet moan?

It goes straight to Steve's dick. Bypassing his brain, his heart, literally any part of the body that's supposed to be engaged in the chemistry of love processes

Just goes straight to his dick.

Billy's eyelashes are fluttering like feathery wings of an exotic butterfly.

"Didn't take you for a pervert, Harrington." - he's whispering.

"You don't know me, Hargrove. I'm a wild ride."

"Shit, and here I thought that my dick was brain dead."

The sheet on Billy is visibly tenting.

"Look how easy I am. When you're close to me."

Steve's in heaven. And they haven't even tried anything yet. Fuck. This is .. everything. Mind-shattering. Intoxicating. Magic potion is spreading in Steve's veins.

***

Billy definitely calls Steve "the pervert who first kissed me in my sleep".

Steve's defense is always the same

"You looked so beautiful. Like a sleeping beauty. I couldn't resist."

"You know there's a name for it. You're a somnophile, Harrington."

"Oh yeah? You fucked me last night when I was half asleep. I guess it takes one to know one."

***

Years later when they are older and have grown into each other's skin and flesh, Steve's thinking

Well. Who knew that having Billy as a boyfriend would be so much fun.

A lifetime of together with Billy fucking Hargrove is actually the best miracle that could've ever happened to Steve Harrington.

[christmas-shenanigans]

Session 7 definitely the last one Sat 13 Jan 2024

I have a scrunchy lunch. Skabb is feeling better. Valeros will throw himself off something if we don’t finish this fight tonight. Halbrecht goes to get some tea. And we’re off!

Would the old baggage like to maybe fuck off? Has she considered surrendering? She considers, and decides to whack Wee Jock with her spoon instead. Then she’ll hit Halbrecht; and then Grabby Cat (Skabb is outraged). Cries of “that rotten bitch!”

Halbrecht is writing a naughty list of his own. It’s just got the one name on it. Grabby Cat wants to grab something on fire and go on a kamikaze mission up her ass.

Christmas Elves do snowballs, Skabb is nearly dead. Oh wait - she ignores cold damage. “I feel healthy.” Another goes for Half-Brick, he is pleased when it misses - the next is a crit, though. 21 damage to him total. “Excellent. I’m not even dead. Ha.”

Valeros. “Hello.” He gets an attack of opportunity, if he has that ability - he does not. The elf escapes him, marks him as prey, and throws a snowball at him. Another throws one at the back of his head for another 9 damage.

“I’m allergic to Christmas after this,” Halbrecht announces. “You’ve ruined it.”

The Faerie does a Heal; Valeros requests that if he is to die, can he at least be done in by the hot faerie. “No promises.” The DM refuses to tell us who she’s healing.

Psychotic goblin is up. “Well I’m a dying psychotic goblin, so…” She looks at her potions. “1d6? That’s wank, innit.” She casts her own Healing spell instead with her wand - using Overcast. She’ll never need it again, so who cares if it breaks? She does a 2-er, for 15 HP back. “Better than a kick in the pants,” Wee Jock observes. Skabb hides for her last action.

Wee Jock the Ever-Living takes his turn. He is going to give Mrs Claus “a bit of a bonk on the head.” DM, laughing: “Only fair, I suppose.” He does 19 total damage including Rage and Cold Iron damage, and goes for an Intimidating Glare. The number is red. “… Um, hero point?” 17 isn’t super good, but maybe she’ll roll low…? Well, a 32 isn’t low, so. No. He swings his Hammer again, but a 13 misses.

Zorya spots an elf glaring at Valeros through the window of the building opposite from her perch on the roof, and takes advantage of the distraction to shoot it - sneak attack as well will kill it! She shoots Mrs Claus and rolls a 20, petitioning the DM. “She’s exhausted now, right? Her AC is lower now, right? Because it’s Christmas?” Generously, and probably in the interest of not going for a session 8 of the Christmas Special, he agrees and takes 4 off her AC. Zorya’s 20 hits. “But she doesn’t accept my lovingly gift-wrapped sneak attack damage.”

Mialee kills the Christmas Faerie! How de doo dis! “Straight through the eye. Don’t worry Valeros, she didn’t know what hit her.”

Valeros, with no more reason to live, trudges outside and halfheartedly hits something. He isn’t even excited when he gets a howdy doodis. Wee Jock tries to cheer him up with talk of hiring a prostitute in the goblin village, but he’s not interested. He crits against the last bauble bomber as well, but doesn’t kill it. He kind of shrugs, and that’s the end of his turn.

Halbrecht can do Battle Healing for two people. He rolls two Medicine checks, one for himself and one for Wee Jock - he rolls 32 both times! Two critical successes, so 4d8+10 each. Halbrecht: “… Holy shit.” 34 for Wee Jock, and 26 for himself. Not too shabby. That’s his first action. Wee Jock: “Back in the game!” (IRL Wee Jock thanks him, “because the real Wee Jock never would”.) Halbrecht takes a swing with his hammer but misses, and raises his shield.

Mrs Claus takes her attacks at Wee Jock, Halbrecht and Grabby Cat again. She has a really bad round - 19 (crit fail), 18, and 12.

The elf at the window marks Mialee as prey and throws two snowballs at her head, and misses both times. “Cheeky!” “There’s a lady behind you,” Wee Jock warns her. “Well she’s going to get an elbow in the face.” Another elf attacks Valeros but misses. And that’s all the elves, because we’ve killed the others.

A bauble bomber throws some red bombs at Wee Jock. He doesn’t even notice. He notices the 20 to hit, though. Another flings some more at Valeros; he’s too busy staring at his feet to see them.

Skabber is fed up of all the mooching around that’s going on, gets stuck in a door and has to request to be moved. “You can’t get out because you can’t reach the door handle.” She wants to slap Valeros as a free action. “Snap out of it!” She yells. She has discovered that she has a Fireball left and flings it - but rolls a crit fail. She was going to try and hit Mrs Claus, uncaring that she will hit her friends. “Who cares? We’re all dying at the end of this!” For her mercenary attitude, she is awarded a Hero Point, which she immediately uses to re-roll her Fireball. Mrs Claus fails her save! Sadly so do Halbrecht, Wee Jock and Grabby Cat - the latter is off the map now. Skabb turns to Valeros. “This is all your fault.”

Wee Jock says, in a shocked voice, “Warm! Warm!” He pats himself out and attacks Mrs Claus for a 20, which now hits thanks to her reduction in AC. She is no longer flanked, however. But! The DM rules that she is still reeling from the Fireball, so her AC will stay at 20 for the rest of the round. He tries for another Intimidation (14), but she's having none of that.

Zorya tries to determine who looks sicklier, the elf or Mrs Claus, but she is distracted by the latter’s wedding ring which she has just spotted gleaming on her finger. She takes all three attacks at her, and two hit. She’s fixated on the ring now, and makes up her mind that it'll be hers by the end of this fight.

Mialee takes an attack at Mrs Claus and nearly kills her, then crits her next hit! Mrs Claus falls, with the tinkle of sleigh bells, and fades to nothing - taking the ring with her. “Nooo!” Zorya cries from the roof.

Mialee sets her sights on an elf for her last action, but misses. She gets a Hero Point for sleighing Mrs Claus. (Arf arf.)

Valeros kills a bauble bomber. He swings his sword in a Zorro-esque manner, carving a “V” into his chest. He shoots at an elf with his short bow, crits, and rolls 19 crit damage. The elf is down to her last hit point. “Grand. Wait, wait! If you were to watch Robin Hood Prince of Thieves, that bit with Christian Slater where he takes out the arrow, runs his thumb across it and shoots it. That’s what Valeros just did.”

Halbrecht inquires as to the health of two of our enemies. One is looking sickly, the other is fresh as a daisy. “Well we’ll see about that then, won’t we.” He casts Searing Light against the injured one - Howdy doodis! “Turns to ash, and dust, his still very surprised face lands on top of the pile of dust.” He raises his shield for his last action. “I think that might be the first time I’ve hit something in this whole adventure,” he says, and is awarded a Hero Point.

The Christmas elf, having just seen Mrs Claus fall, stops throwing snowballs. She takes her bow off her back and takes aim at Halbrecht. Her bow refuses to work so she does snowballs after all. 27 hits for 5 and 4 Cold, and Halbrecht is down to 5hp. (Skabb: “I feel partly responsible.” Halbrecht: “That’s because you are.”)

She throws some snowballs at Zorya but they miss, and another throws some at Mialee. “Miss, miss, miss,” Wee Jock calls - and they all do! The bomber throws all his bombs at Wee Jock - only the green hits. He takes 1 acid and two persistent. More splash damage, for Halbrecht.

We only have two elves and a bauble bomber left! Skabb cheers. She is told there is one on the roof. “Can I scuttle up the chimmer?” Halbrecht, laughing: “Who talks like that?!” It turns out the one on the roof is Zorya, so she doesn’t do it. She wants to bite the elf’s finger, and then “suck the juice out like a straw.” 28 hits - and how de doo dis! “Really slowly, so I can savour the blood.” There is a house with a table full of baked goods behind her. “Are any of them rotten?” she asks, and is disappointed when they are not. She brightens when Wee Jock tells her he still has some squiggler jelly.

Wee Jock: “Advance… Corner… Then hit in the groin with a - ohhhh, that’s a bad miss.” He swings again and gets a howdedoodis! “Bauble your way out of that one, you dead prick.” He still has a go left. Mialee’s window licker friend is still alive, so he advances, ending up right back where he was. “Hiya,” he says to Halbrecht as he passes. “I’m on my way to murder someone.” (He then remembers he can’t move as he's run out of actions, and takes it back.)

Zorya drops off the roof, sneaks up on Mialee’s friend, and stabs her. With no more movement she will stand there and wait to get smacked. “Don’t worry, I’ll kill her before she gets a go,” Mialee tells her. And then crits her next shot!! The elf is still up - but isn’t she flanked, with Zorya there? That counts, the DM says, and lets her do her sneak attack damage for another 3. Mialee shoots again. Another hit, and more sneak attack and cold iron damage! “Dead?” No, sadly for Zorya. Mialee’s last attack misses so she Hero Points it, but still misses.

Valeros moves down the map looking for Skabb to give her... something, I don't hear what. He zings an arrow over Zorya’s head at the elf. 20 hits, but he only does 1 damage.

Halbrecht finds one! “Aaaaaaaand… Divine Lance! Oh.” 14 misses. “That was a signalling lance.” That was his whole turn. “You’re all very welcome.”

The elf escapes Zorya and moves. “Where’s that bitch gone?”

Skabb has a quick squizz out the door to make sure no-one’s there. (Zorya deletes herself and has to be put back.) The DM turns Skabb around because she’s stuck in the door again. She can’t see anyone, so she prances around the room, “making the wettest, soggiest bread with all this jelly” (so that’s what Valeros gave her!). She wants to know if there are bugs she can add in; there are not. “In that case,” she says with glee, “I have a spell slot left. Vomit Swarm!” She pukes up a load of bugs, stamps on them, scrapes them up and spreads them on her toast. “Valeros does a full retch,” he announces. “Have a disgusting Hero Point,” says the DM.

Wee Jock vaults over some barrels, but can’t see any targets. Disappointed, he uses all his movement to get to the Christmas tree fire to warm his toes. He spots the elf, who is cowering in a house. “She’s here!” he yells.

Zorya moves up, spots her, and shoots - pinning her to the wall and killing her, taking out the last opponent. “You have successfully booted in the door of Christmas Land, and murdered all the inhabitants,” the DM tells us, to general cheering. Skabb makes us something disgusting as a treat to celebrate; Valeros and Zorya both lose their lunch at the mere sight of it.

Halbrecht does a big Heal. Valeros: “You are the best goddamn Cleric.” Mialee doesn’t need it as no-one has managed to so much as scratch her.

We’ve got some powder to find. Zorya finds some presents in the northernmost building and immediately forgets the powder. Skabb joins her and starts smashing presents. Wee Jock and Halbrecht actually look for the powders. They find hundreds of notes with names on, each with either a smiley or frowny face next to them. Skabb, Zorya and Mialee don’t care to find their own names; they already know.

Halbrecht, Valeros and Mialee make Perception checks (Skabb finds some whiskey). Halbrecht finds our names - Skabb, Wee Jock, Zorya are all naughty and the rest are nice - except Valeros, who has both a smiley and a frowny face next to his name. (We thought Mialee would be naughty; but if we refer to her character sheet it specifically says: “flaws: none.”)

Mialee and Valeros see that the reindeer stalls are empty but they find a bunch of bottles. We are looking for a powder (Skabb and Valeros are messing around with the sleigh). Skabb and Mialee both spot a bottle of iridescent powder - Mialee snatches it before Skabb can get it, but she tips a bit out into Skabb outstretched paw. Skabb licks it up and starts to float!

(Zorya has been investigating the presents - she finds three that she believes are of considerable value, and squirrels them away before anyone knows she has them.)

To the magic item vote! Only Skabb voted silently, the rest of us forgot to send the DM messages so we have to do it out loud. Wee Jock is torn between Mialee and Valeros, voting for the latter in the end because he stayed most in character. Mialee votes for Zorya, because she got some great kills. Halbrecht votes for Valeros because he needs cheering up. Valeros and Zorya both vote for themselves, because of course they do.

(Skabb picks Zorya up with her new flying ability and flies her around the room.)

We have two tie-breakers! Tied in first are Mialee and Skabb, who both roll a d20 - Skabb rolls a 3, and Mialee a 4. The second tie break is between Zorya and Valeros - Zorya rolls a 14, and Valeros an 18.

Mialee wins overall, with Skabb second, Valeros third and Zorya as a runner up. It was close; we all were within 1 or 2 points of each other, the DM tells us.

We take the powder back to the village and are awarded with the magic items by Tallywhacker (Skabb hides a poo in his office). These will be converted into magic items for our main campaign, and Zorya wins a potion as a runner-up prize. The talk turns a bit scatological after that, but we have saved the day! And maybe done really good things for the gnomes. Yay!

The DM tells us that it is our duty to remind him to Keep It Simple, Stupid, for next year so we don’t end up with another two month Christmas Special. I don’t know… I kinda like it. :)

[ranboo5]

This is what no Technoblade streams does to a mfer

[rredbirdii]

the small BIG man himself!!!! HE!!!!!1!!!!!

[spiltscribbles]

Ooohhh write us something pretty with 27 I love the way you interpret prompts

2SNotes: OMFG ANGEL 😭😭😭 you are so fucking gorgeous for this babes! This is literally the first thing I’ve written in like MONTHS holy shit! Thank you so so much and I can’t wait to pump out more of these pretty prompts tonight xxxx💞💞😘

.-

A REBLOG IS WORTH SO MUCH |  Send Me A Prompt  |  27. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips

.-

It’s new. This thing between them. This mirage of quick kisses pressed to the corner of mouths, and hands brushing beneath desks during shared classes, and purposefully jumbled scarves because the scent of Remus’s bonfire scented  soap always works like a charm to relieve Sirius from any headache coming on.

It only became official over Christmas break, after Sirius had finally snuck away from his oppressive familial home and to the warm embrace of the Potter manner and he made a personal promise to finally just take grasp of anything and everything he wanted without fearing the oppressive hand of his familial ancestry; so o course when Remus tumbled through the the fireplace with a flush faced and giggling Lily in one arm, and a bouquet of tulips for Mrs Potter in the other— fashionably early for the annual Potter Christmas Eve bash— Sirius couldn’t help but drag him to the gardens right at the cusp of midnight. And lying here now, it’s a near echo of that night with starlight dusting silver in Remus’s fair hair and the moon tracing romantically down the slope of his nose and atop the high points of his cheeks and around the perfect cupids bow of his lips.

And just like a mere two months ago— amidst the glistening snowfall and tolling bells and laughter soaked outdoors— Sirius leans over the six inches dividing them on the fourposter, and threads his hand in Remus’s curls, and he thrills when he feels the cold tips of Remus’s fingers tucking beneath his vest the moment their lips meld together like a sort of dance from ages long past.

“You taste like treacle tart,” Remus says lowly, half against Sirius’s mouth and half amidst a laugh that sounds like everything dulcet Sirius couldn’t possibly begin to name.

With all the bravado that the Black name has afforded him, Sirius scoffs, sits up from where he was draped atop of Remus and tries his best to glower amidst the glee mangling his face into something bright and glimmering. “Oi, Lupin, if we’re talking about which one of us got a sweet tooth, I’d watch my cavity infested mouth if I were you.”

“Is that right?”

“One of us has got pockets full of chocolate frogs and fudge flies at all moments, love, and it surely me, innit.”

“And here I thought you just felt me up for the fun and not for my sugary sweets,” Remus retorts tauntingly, feigning hurt with a grin bubbling at one corner of his lips and one of his golden brows cocked.

And it’s one of those perfect, glittering moments between them. Cheeky banter that’s blanketing all the unspoken truths that’s needling just above the surface of the six years that has built them together. Six years of trust and heartache and love and friendship and all the trappings those feelings entail— Six years that culminated that winter night a hand full of weeks ago where they looked into one another’s eyes— silver melding into gold— and all the guardedness was finally stripped away, washed off in a ocean of wandering hands and desperate tongues and half managed out whispers that amounted to I’ve wanted this for so long.

sitting here now, in the hush of their empty dormitory, Sirius knows it’s another one of those heavy moments full of potential. A space of time where Sirius can tell Remus that he loves him, that he’s never really seen what it means to be in love before meeting the Potters but he knows innately that what he feels for Remus and what he’s always felt for him is that. Sirius knows that this bone weary, but intoxicating sensation is that. He knows that the way Remus can make his heart lighter with only his grin and make Sirius’s palms sweat with only the way his eyes get darker when there tucked beneath a shared duvet, is a love that’s for the ages.

But then he hears stomping footsteps rushing up the stairs, and Peter’s cracking voice whining about James taking something or the other from him, and he sees that Remus’s coquettish little leer has tightened up to a more measured, more appropriate straight line, the one that Sirius himself has dubbed as the Prefect Pout. 

The moment’s popped, but he’s sure that they’ll have a life time’s worth of them for Sirius to tell Remus just exactly how much he adores him.

[lilyvines]

yeah yeah tommyinnit is working hard to make the merch affordable and generally being an awesome and incredibly swell dude but holy shit can he hurry up /lh

i wanna be like dream fans who get to walk down the street in their green hoodies and get recognized by the masses as being dream stans!!

ranboo fans get to walk down the street wearing merch and get immediately recognized as being gay!! I want that but with being a tommyinnit viewer!!

i think people should look at me and go ‘a tommyinnit fan, what a fucking loser.’ And I can’t DO THAT without MERCH hurry the fuck up mr. innit

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Vampire au?

But Tommy is the vampire.

Dream is a history nerd who wants to visit a old castle. He doesn't believe in vampires. Those are just silly old myths.

Tommy, the current owner of the castle, is very nice to Dream. Dream didn't expect the current owner to be so young , but Tommy says he's the owner not because he's the only one of the blood line left , but because he's the only one who actually stays here.

Dream doesn't know that the rest of his family is just asleep right now. As they have been for the last five hundred years.

Tommy owns the castle because he's the only one awake right now.

Lets mix it up a little. Eret and Foolish are his parents.

Reverse obsession again.

Dream accidentally cuts himself, Tommy smells the blood. Tommy gets a tiny little bit of blood. Just enough for him to get a taste for it. It tastes better than any blood he's ever had. Dream's not leaving that castle if Tommy has any say the in it.

VAMPIRE AU? I love you.

Dream honestly didn’t expect being able to find a castle to stay at so easily. He expected to have to sift through ritzy hotels and museums to find one, if he could at all. But apparently, only a few miles from his house, was one maintained and owned by some rich eccentric, Mr Gathers. He’d done some messaging and the owner seemed entirely willing to let him stay for a pittance. Dream supposed what they said about rich people being lonely was true.

When he arrived at the castle, it was dusk. Dream was honestly surprised to see the only person there to be a boy. He was tall, but in a gangly way, and had deep bags under his eyes. He was young, maybe sixteen, and while he looked sickly he was also almost eerily perfect in appearance, a doll-like delicate face framed by cherubic curls. Dream was pretty sure he was an albino, his skin almost pure white, his hair a pale, pale blond, and his eyes almost red when the light caught them.

“Hey, do you know where Mr Gathers is?” Dream asked politely.

The boy huffed and crossed his arms. “Yeah, right here, you dickhead.”

Dream laughed, in disbelief and the boy furrowed a brow. “I’m being serious, prick.”

“You don’t own a castle by yourself at fourteen, kid, no matter how rich.”

“I’m sixteen!” He insisted indignantly. “And no one else even wants to stay here. Haunted, innit?”

“Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better.” The foul mouthed teen held out an immaculately manicured hand. “Anyway, you going to introduce yourself? I’m Tommy.”

“Dream,” Dream said, bemused.

Tommy toured him through the castle and it struck Dream how immaculate the whole thing was. It felt like he’d walked into an actual Renaissance-era castle, in some ways, apart from obvious modern conveniences scattered around haphazard. Dream supposed he couldn’t blame the teenager for wanting TVs and computers and proper lighting and plumbing.

What was odd was that Tommy had a lot of the guest bedrooms reserved, which he said in the vaguest way possible and refused to elaborate. Also strange was when they finished the tour. Tommy had turned to him and said, “And that’s that! Apart from the dungeons, but if you visit them that’s your own damn fault.”

“What, is that where the ghosts are?” Dream said teasingly.

Tommy shrugged. “Something like that.” For some reason, that struck Dream as odd, but he assumed it was just a joke, and headed up to his room for the night.

Life in the castle was strange. Tommy slept during the day and woke at night, which he supposed makes sense if he was albino like Dream suspected. Tommy didn’t bring anything up, but Dream went through the effort to start doing the same. The castle was eerie when he was all alone. That was another weird thing too. Dream was pretty sure he and Tommy were the only people living in the castle, but everything was always immaculate, his clothes always folded, food always provided (enough for him, Tommy seemed to eat at other times.)

Still, things were pretty cool. When Dream wasn’t walking the castle in awe, taking as many pictures as he could to send to the group chat (he’s not exactly sure Sapnap or Skeppy or Jack or Ant would appreciate it, but hopefully Niki and George and Bad and Sam) might like it.), he’d spend time with Tommy. Tommy was strange, but he was nice, though he hid it through his abrasive outer shell.

Things got strange, though, when Dream cut his finger. It was something stupid, a paper cut while reading with Tommy (he had an impressive library, Dream was pretty sure there was several massive historical finds in there, but Tommy mostly read shitty cheap new novels to laugh at them).

Dream grabbed his hand. “Can I kiss it better?”

Dream raised his eyebrows. “What? No, that’s weird. You’re, like, a baby-“

Tommy had already gone ahead, and if that was weird what happened next was weirder. Tommy grinned widely (did he always have fangs). “Mind if I have some more?”

“Tommy, stop. This weird vampire act isn’t funny.”

“Act?” Tommy laughed.

“What, are you delusional enough to think you’re actually a vampire?”

“You’re the delusional one, if you haven’t noticed,” Tommy laughed. “Look, let me show you something.” Tommy dragged Dream down into the dungeons, surprisingly strong for how frail he looked. Dream was surprised to not see the filthy, abandoned cells he expected. Instead, lying on individual altars were five people, some as young or younger than Tommy up to two who looked old enough to be his parents. Above them was an ornate portrait, showing what appeared to be the oldest of the two along with a younger Tommy, but with blue eyes, not the familiar red.

Holy shit. Holy shit, he wasn’t kidding. This was- this was honestly the fucking scrarist He turned to run, only for Tommy to grab onto his wrist, furrowing his brows. “Where are you going?” he said, genuine confusion in his voice.

“What do you think? You’re a- a monster!”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Look, just admit you’re still baby raging over me beating you at Mario Kart last night.”

“What- no! I’m horrified because you- you shouldn’t be real! You’re a myth!” Dream was half hysterical.

“And I haven’t even introduced you yet,” Tommy mumbled in frustration, before speaking up. “Whatever weird human reason you have, you’re not leaving. Your blood tastes far too nice.”

“Let me go!” Dream shouted, desperately trying to pull free.

“Look, I’ll let you win at Mario Kart next time,” Tommy said with a shrug.

“This isn’t about Mario Kart!”

“Isn’t everything about Mario Kart? Oh, and women. The only things in the universe superior to Mario Kart. Actually-“

“Can you just shut up and explain what’s going on?!” Dream said half in terror and half in frustration. Tommy beamed.

“This is my family! There’s Eret,” he gestures to a fluffy haired brunet in an elaborate dress, “Foolish,” a copper haired, freakishly tall man, “they’re my parents. Well, my sires, but my actual parents were shite so I consider them my parents. They took me in when I was little! There’s also Tubbo,” a small boy around Tommy's age with messy mousy brown hair and severe burn scars, “Fundy,” a boy who couldn’t be any older than fourteen with long ginger hair, “and Wilbur!” a curly haired boy with a massive scar through his stomach. “They’re practically my brothers.”

“They’re sleeping. Have been for a while, we got hit by some pretty bad hunters, they need to heal. Probably won’t fully, honestly, which is shit. But they’ll wake up soon, and we can all be a real family! Oh, I’ll need some more blood bags- hey, give me your phone-“

“No!” Dream protested, but Tommy snatched it from his pocket, opening it up (did he steal his passcode) and looking at his contacts.

“Hmm… yeah, you’ve got enough people on here for me to track down. Niki… you’ve mentioned her a few times, I think she’d get along with Fundy… Jack Manifold… no one to notice him missing? Sam… ooh, he works in IT, I always wanted to know how the fuck computers work. Yeah, these'll do. Shouldn’t take too long to get them all, then everyone can wake up, and we'll be able to have some real fun then!”

If anyone else wants to send in some more AU ideas it’d be lovely and I will make them heavily involve c!primeboys no matter what and again that’s a challenge.

[ohmygeese]

I usually have thoughts whenever something important happens in the Dream SMP plotline but I've been quiet recently because of school. But this.

What the fuck

So Wilbur fucking snapped and Dream does what he does best, make things end in bloodshed.

We also kinda got what we wanted -- Tommy and Tubbo against the world but I don't think my heart can handle Tubbo having the three (?) discs. But it's Tubbo, he won't betray Tommy... right? (If that fucking happens, I want Callahan to give Tommy op for 5 minutes. I don't want Traitor!Tommy. I want Tommy is fucking loose it!Tommy. However, I don't think Tommy can actually do that. His morals mehn. He likes to stab shit but at least he has value aKSJJSKSJ)

Now onto the rambles:

Will Tommy try to stop the explosions? Probably. How? I don't know either. Tommy seems lost as well, though I really hope this gives way into a leadership arc for Tommy. Because having one would fit into the plot so perfectly. Just imagine. Mr. Innit, the once reckless second-in-comand now the leader of a revolt favored by the people. What will he do. What will risk will he take. The possibilities are endless knowing the amount of leverage Tommy has right now. The discs. Spirit. Mars. He has everything to loose yet that makes his plot line much more vast and open-ended if I'm making sense.

(Also, can I just point out how much of a tactical genius Tommy is when he actually tries. Like the luring Schlatt and co. back to Manurg to 1) Protect Wilbur and Pogtopia and 2) To Protect Tubbo. He's also fucking great at acting. The scam for the disc being a notable instance. Also, when Bad and Skeppy were threatening to burn the disc and Tommy is like "haha imma ignore you bitches for 3 minutes." Like, Tommy please think. We love it when you think.)

TUBBO. TUBBO GONNA PULL UP SOME MAD SHIT THAT'S GONNA TURN THE TABLES. DON'T LIE TO YOURSELVES. Though my heart broke a little when Tubbo questioned Tommy. Might be having more of those instances but he'll always remember the discs. Also, I wonder what will Tubbo do in the festival with the little info Tommy gave him. I forgot Tommy's exact words but I don't think he specifically metioned anything implying TnT or explosions which might have been helpful ngl. Tubbo's got this tho. In Tubbo, we trust.

Now, what about Niki and Eret? I really can't see Niki or Eret siding with Wilbur on this one. Niki believes L'manberg will rise again while Eret understands the importance of history and how L'manberg is important to the server. So to see Wilbur want to make the whole place go kablooey, means more angst for Wilbur I guess. (Holy shit what if Wilbur sees Niki with Eret as they try to snap him out of it and he goes even more apeshit.)

Fundy. Ohh boi. This is a wildcard right here. Not sure if he sides with Papa Soot or manages to catch wind and helps Tommy from the shadows. Hopefully, the latter because seeing Tommy and Fundy try to help their father figure would be so interesting to see especially with how vastly different their situations are. The emotional turmoil and guilt Fundy would have to carry knowing that his "betrayal" was a big factor to his father's downfall is food for the soul that would last for weeks.

Techno is probably siding with Dream and Wilbur because anarchy like would we be surpised? Also, a chance to bully Tommy? Heck yeah! Not a lot story-wise but hey it's Techno. We love Techno.

So ye that ends my thoughts here. Excited to see this go down. I root for bittersweet fluff so chop chop L'manberg. Make the family angst and reunion happen.

[cherienymphe]

i found myself grieving so honestly with reader on her relationship with peter- before the abuse and everything of course. im mean she really did lose the person who knew her most, and in the worst way possible, that sense of loss cannot be denied. i understand her innier conflict with trying to reconcile that the peter who was sweet and the peter that brutally attacks her. i mean hell as a reader i have that same problem. you just write out everything so perfectly and so easy to sympatize and rationalize- gah! u just have all my adoration!

and god i completely understand where steve is from, even tho its overbearing and god it just seems so personal to him? the reader said he acts like a father and i completely agree in the way that its like he takes everything that happened as a personal affront and i know we dont know too much about steves past or relationship wit the reader in the story but it makes me wonder... did she miss signs with steve the same way she missed them with peter? signs as in not steve being a abusive maniac but idk maybe... a hint of over protectiveness? i mean we have seen how he reacts but i wonder if reader ever say the signs of his escalating behaviour over the years.

and awe bucky. sweet, soft, tender bucky. god he just makes me melt. can someone take care of him? 🥺 maybe reader and bucky can have a heart to heart about their abuse and lead the reader to a little healing. he could be her rock and steve could be the agrressive mfing tide that just throws hands at everything lmaaooooo

OUUUU dont even make me with tony!!! was he tryna manipulate her by the way? like he knew that shes not mentally thr yet to insist on repercussions for peter but tony trues to be like 'oh no i cant in good conscience but you shouldve done more to help H I M' like ok guilt trip? ok mr. mind games. i see what youre doing. im lowkey falling for it too but i SEE U.

god i hope peters beat to hell. which wink wink u totally hinted at and i love u for it. like i want him to live but i know hes a shit head and will make a comeback for reader which makes me want him fo die, but also the duds spiderman like? idk the world needs him? but i also kno if he does 'leave' reader alone he cud pick up another person and lock her up and no one would ever know. rehab seems iffy- that shit rarely sticks innit? and like how is reader ever gon face him again if theyre the a v e n g e r s? i mean sending either of them off to different teams kinda seems like a bad solution to a bad situation.

im personally rooting for a semi-recovered reader with soft!steve and bucky, just as friends that are a little too protective but its sweet. i wouldn't sneeze if things became more but honestly i think a friendship would be just right.

also holy fuck youre amazing and jeez u deserve fucking everything

I love all of this! Thank you 😭 I try to make it as realistic as possible so I wanted to focus on the plot of 'hey Peter was not always like this and even now he's still not always like this. He still has his moments and days where he's the Peter she fell in love with and it convinces her that things will get better because it's not all bad all the time'

[shadowtongued]

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝟗 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

this was SO MUCH fun i spent all day on it and was pretty hard since sliske is already his own thing, but there ARE indeed characters my own interpretation of him plays off of since jagex shoveled his characterization into a garbage disposal post TWW.

𝐈.   ·   𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐋 :  anyone who has spent some time as a mutual knows i relate sliske a lot to dr. lecter. it’s the cold, cunning, and charming with and ability to measure ones steps without faltering. the ability to lure someone in with polite, harmless demeanor, only to RIP the carpet out from under them with some of the most scathing, deep insults from all the things he’s gleaned from your psych. the soft analytical approach and patience to wait for things to fall into place. also, neither of these fuckers BLINK often enough and remain fixated on their prey eerily. this includes book lecter which, imo, was p superior in magnificent little details. 

𝐈𝐈.    ·     𝐕 : i am a simple woman, i see an enigmatic anti-hero with knives and smooth moves and i go ‘ooh ahh’. v was a real showman with a mask and worked very cloak and dagger, his personality almost too happy and charismatic despite the domino effects he had planned, much like sliske. i wouldn’t call sliske an anti-hero but he had his moments of bringing about cruel but deserved justice to a few individuals who deserved it and even in endgame, made sure people were very aware of some of the lesser gods flaws and hidden crimes. plus uh, knives man. the knife fighting holy shit.

𝐈𝐈𝐈.    ·     𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐇 : c’mon, who am i if i don’t put the only man who wore a collar maybe bigger than sliske? even as a kid i was really just taken by the goblin king. i mean just look at the dude. the fandom has already made enough jareth comparisons to sliske and goddamn i’m glad. the outfits, the labyrinths, optical illusions, the slight of hand tricks, enigma and soreness over love. plus i just love bowie and theres not a day i don’t miss him with immense fondness. :c

𝐈𝐕.    ·     𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 (𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐓) :  have you seen the show? good, then you literally have the majority of my interpretation of sliske’s personality. playful, charismatic, subtly suggestive, and hiding a really emotional side ft. bad temper. sliske is a lot like lucifer in the sense of only living for the pleasure of life and all it holds with a rich sense of hedonism to fill a void of complex emotions and spite under that mask. plus his human glamor just looks so similar, even before i started watching ( and still need to catch up. :/c )

  𝐕.    ·     𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 : i’mma be real with y’all. i know jack shit abt doc strange outside the mar.v.el movie(s), which if i had the time to sink into comics i would bc i just like the aesthetic of the magic and the world he is in. i may have only seen the movie but the magic is a wet dream of what i WISH magic in runescape looked like. which at one point in concept arts, the whole magic circles shit WAS supposed to be canon but design/graphics restraints kept it from being real. sliske also heavily uses illusions, projection, and the psych in his magic. plus the outfit. the cape, the collar, y’know?

𝐕𝐈.    ·     𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 ( 𝐁𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐓 ) : gee channy, why does sliske get (2) versions of lucifer? bc i said so. i rambled about this comparison in this post , tl:dr;  lucifer wanted free thought, individualism, and self pride before god found this an offense and cast him out. hmm that’s really familiar, innit?

𝐕𝐈𝐈.    ·     𝐌𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒 : okay yes, this is quasi-“devil” entry number three, but good old mephistopheles the demon is very campy, germanic devil in jester flavor who tempts and manipulates you.... with humor because he can sense you’re on the path to hell anyways. plus his name means “scatterer or plasterer of lies”. that’s metal as fuck. google him, look at his smile and nubby little horns and tell me that’s not sliske.

𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈.    ·     𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑 : death man in hood and shadows who comes to collect your soul and might take a deal to let you live longer just fits the bill. have you seen grim in all the old paintings? shadowy, wraithy, ominous? yeah, you get it.

𝐈𝐗.    ·     𝐇𝐄𝐗𝐗𝐔𝐒 : your honor, i ain’t explaining shit. i plead the fucking fifth. if you’ve fuckin’ seen it, you know.  ( mr. curry sir, this is a children’s film but PLEASE go on i guess. )

tagged by: @sylvansoldier ! ♥ tagging: IDK STEAL IT PLEASE, just don’t ramble like i did.

[aliypop]

Eye’s Without A Face

So this is a bit of a trial story between Yonah (my oc) and John Constantine based off of two Billy Idol songs, It was pretty fun to work with the concept of a Young John so with further ado enjoy! (I honestly recommend listening to both Rebel Yell and Eyes Without A Face  while reading they’re both good songs!) 

Word Count: 2,393 

Warnings: Abusive past relationship, feels trip

A/N: some parts are based on a RP with @demonologist-jconstantine​

Last night my little dancer came dancing to my door

Last night my little angel came pumping on the floor

"Drinks on me,"  Catalina said sitting next to him, John had yet again found himself at Gothams elite club the kitten's corner where the alcohol was hot, but the girls were hotter, 

"You're too kind!" one of the men at the bar said touching the young woman, she looked as though she was about 19 years old at most, but then again he wasn't that old himself he was only 25, but that wasn't the issue, he had cares he wanted to get rid of. 

"Only to the ones I adore.." Catalina said sitting in the young man's lap, it was a routine that the Owner, her girlfriend Myra trained her to do, be seductive and the money comes flowing in, She had to make them want her and know that they couldn't have her, 

She said, 'oh come on baby, I got a license for love!

And if it expires, pray help from above,

But there was one man she had her eyes on, he was a regular that much she knew, yet something was telling her to be courageous tonight. As she made her way to him, John could only see the looks of an Angel walking her way to him or at least he thought, 

"Come here often?" she asked, sitting next to the empty seat beside him, 

"Yeah.." he replied, trying to keep his eyes on his drink, 

"You're not much of a talker, are you?" she asked, looking at his features, "Has anyone ever told you, that you look a lot like Billy Idol," she suggested as he looked up at her, 

"I usually get told Sting," he smirked at her, "But thanks love,"  he said, picking up his guitar from beside him, he knew to ask her for just one night with him would give her just as much heartbreak then she could endure, "Wait.." her big brown eyes staring up at him, as she placed a hand on his thigh. "Stay.. " she asked, rubbing slow circles "For me at least,"

"Innit something love, I was gonna ask ya the same thing." 

She don't like slavery, she won't sit and beg But when I'm tired and lonely, she sees me to bed What sets you free and brought you to me, babe What sets you free, I need you here by me,

"Catalina sweetheart," Myra said walking towards her, gripping on her arm hard, 

"Yes snookiecakes?" she replied, John, snarled at the other woman before taking his guitar and walking out the club, he never liked being apart of drama besides he had his own to deal with, "What were you doing with that blond man.." she squeezed her arm harder,  "You're hurting me.." she looked behind her noticing that he was gone.

"What did I tell you about "Your ways" " she asked as her girlfriend only trembled in fear of her,

"Y- You'd kill me.." 

"Excellent love, now get your sexy ass in the back someones waiting for you." her smirk sinister.

I walked the ward, for you, babe

A thousand miles, for you

I dried your tears, of pain, babe

A million times, for you

Coming from the closed building was a dripping wet and badly bruised woman, John who hadn't let yet was smoking a cigarette as usual, under the Gotham moonlight when he saw the young woman walking towards him bloody and beaten it nearly broke him,

 "Shit .. do you need help?"

"No need to fuss over me." she turned away from him, revealing a fresh cut on her neck.

"Let me at least help you?" he offered her his hand. 

"How do I know I can trust you?" she asked glancing at him, then at his hand, "How do I know you're not like them?" she pointed towards the club, as she turned her back towards him, he noticed something on the back of her leather jacket.  

"She's a fan.," he mumbled to himself.

"What was that? " she asked him wanting an answer to her question,

"Names Constantine, John Constantine .." he said, her face in complete shock, "Yeah, the one from Mucous Membrane love." he winked at her, "And what about you? " 

"I'll tell ya when the times right." she cracked a little bit of a smile at him, "I love a girl of mystery" he smiled leading her back to his car to get her some help, 

I'd sell my soul, for you, babe

For money to burn, for you

I'd give you all, and have none, babe

Just to, have you here by me, because

"Yonah.." she mumbled, as they drove back from the hospital, her head laying on the window of his car, the city lights passing by as the radio played softly behind them a bit of 80's rock,

"Hmm?" he said, he was in his own world contemplating on maybes and what can be, 

"My names not really Catalina, it's Yonah .. Yonah Shanel Wayne.." she sighed as he blinked at her, 

"What's a rich girl like you doin around someone like me then?" he asked with a cheeky grin, "Innit unladylike for a girl like you to be-"

"I'm a rebel myself," she smirked, her hand on his chest, as she snapped her fingers lighting his cigarette with it, biting her lip the moonlight illuminating her perfectly, 

"Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now? " 

"Depends on what's in it for me, Mr. John Constantine."  

In the midnight hour, she cried more, more, more

With a rebel yell, she cried more, more, more

I'm all out of hope

One more bad dream

Could bring a fall

"Maybe one day in my dreams, I'll find that perfect person." Yonah joked as she was sitting on the floor of their shared hotel room, 

"Well, you must be dreaming, cause I'm right here," he said, watching her strum a few chords on her guitar, it had been a few months since they met and the two couldn't be happier, or so she thought

"Hey don't think about her," he tilted her chin up,

"I see you're letting your hair grow out," she said, strumming the guitar again looking away from him, "You're changing the topic love, " he teased, trying to get her to pry open, but nothing would work she was always dedicated to writing new music and performing alongside the band, and John knew it, but he didn't want to lose her to his hectic world. 

When I'm far from home

Don't call me on the phone

To tell me you're alone

It's easy to deceive

It's easy to tease

"Go on tell me you don't love me,"  Emma said to him "John..." she said, as he hesitated, 

"I.. wish I could say-" and with that he watched her leave out of his life,

John had his secrets that he didn't want to talk about, one that he thought he hid very well, but apparently not enough,  

"Yeah, I've been thinking about cutting it,"  he said standing up as she still kept going with the blasted pink guitar, "Look when you're ready love, talk to me.." he said as she said absolutely nothing to him, 

(Les Yeux sans visage)

Eyes without a face

Got no human grace

You're eyes without a face

"John," she said, hours had passed, and it was dark out. She couldn't find him anywhere, and then it hit her, he'd be exactly where he always was on a Saturday night. Somewhere at a bar, putting on her leather jacket and heading outside she saw something that she wished she hadn't, lips locked together, hands wrapped around another woman's waist was John Constatine, 

"Well, I guess I should go .." he pulled away from the other woman as he turned his head to see Yonah running off crying, "Shit.," he mumbled to himself knowing he had a lot of explaining to do,

I spend so much time

Believing all the lies

To keep the dream alive

Now it makes me sad

It makes me mad at truth

For loving what was you

"Yonah what are you doing?" he sighed, watching her pack, 

"Maybe we're just meant to be alone.." she turned away from him, "I thought I could trust you... I thought I could love you .." as he walked towards, her she only began to back away, "let me explain!" he asked,

"I gave you, your chance and you stabbed me in the back with it!" she growled using her fire powers  as he blocked it, catching her off guard, "How did you ..." she looked up at him, a bit confused but intrigued, 

"It's a long story .."

" Well, I would have listened if you didn't," she was stopped by the taste of cheap booze and cigarettes, her words caught in her throat as her eyes closed shut, feeling the heat between the two rise, John lead her over to what felt like a bed behind her, her head landing on a pillow, "John.," she whispered still a little mad at him.

"Yonah you have no idea how much I need you, in every shape of the word, emotionally, physically .." he smiled seeing her crack a smile too, " and at this exact moment, sexually," he whispered in her ear, 

"Are you trying to seduce me?" she asked, "Cause it's working.." Yonah smirked kissing him hard,

When you hear the music, you make a dip

Into someone else's pocket then make a slip

Steal a car and go to Las Vegas

Oh, the gigolo pool

Hanging out by the state line

Turning holy water into wine

Drinking it down, oh

I'm on a bus on a psychedelic trip

Reading murder books, trying to stay hip

I'm thinking of you and you're out there, so

Say your prayers

"Pull over let me drive magic man," Yonah laughed sitting in the passenger seat of the possibly not stolen car, It had been a year now that they'd been together, they were partners in occult crime and becoming lovers at the next, "I'm sure I'll last a couple hours," he began nodding off, "Are you sure about that?" she asked, "You were nearly beaten by a bloody demon!" she said as he pulled over to a gas station, letting her take over,

Pulling over in a motel for the night, Yonah couldn't help but worry about John, feeling beside her, she noticed that he wasn't there, looking outside the window, he was sat outside playing the guitar.

"It's three in the morning, what's on your mind?" she asked, taking him by the hand, 

"The fact I love you.." he mumbled, "Just never mind don't matter what I say really," he sighed turning away from her, 

"You're thinking about her aren't you?" she asked,

"Why don't you get some rest.." he  kept strumming away, 

"Maybe a trip to that one vegas pub could help?" she smirked.

"Well, would you look at that, it's John Constantine been awhile mate... " Chas said, as he then looked over at Yonah, "Who's the girl?" he asked, 

"Yonah .." she smiled, "Nice to meet ya.." 

Now I close my eyes

And I wonder why

I don't despise

Now all I can do

Is love what was once

So alive and new

But it's gone from your eyes

I'd better realize

It was another moonlit night in Gotham, Yonah was sitting on the rooftop of Wayne Manor strumming her enchanted guitar, it was something she did when she was missing a certain demonologist, bright lights were shining from a car turning into the driveway of the said mansion. "You know there's a certain tug right ere," he said pointing towards his heart  "When ya miss someone so bloody hard," he shouted from the rooftops just so she could hear him,  "Why don't ya come down Juliet," he smirked watching her flip off the building and land on her feet,

"Impressive..." he mumbled to himself,

"What brought you to Gotham city Romeo.," she asked, noticing his new change of clothes, she was 25, and he was now 35 figuring out the whole demon business still,

"You did, I was driving an suddenly I know I'm headed towards Wayne manor," he kissed her, "It was that damned Guitar of yours.." she kissed him back laughing hard, the taste of a life she missed once more lingered, "You wanna maybe go out for a few drinks or something.." she groaned looking to see the Bat-signal "Good for nothing hero ! " she shook her fist at it, 

"What about our old spot on 7th street?" he suggested as she got in the car.

"You know me so well," She said looking over at him, "Treat to myself for sobriety for a year, when you left I.." she stopped talking as he held her hand "I already know what happened," 

When they arrived at the bar it reminded him of the night she first walked into his life, Gotham cold air blowing, and gothic buildings everywhere, Yonah placed her hand on top of his, "It feels like it's been ages, you and me alone. everything just has gone wrong since I made my return and when it hasn't it's been press conferences and the damn spotlight in my face everywhere I go!" she slammed her fist 

"I missed the taste of you on my tongue, the way you feel so smooth and hard an-" she  then stopped talking, 

"You really do miss my lovin." knowing that she meant the whiskey rather than him, "Well, get your ass out the spotlight then," 

"I can't, it's in my name, the way I walk and talk." she sighed, " I was born into it, to be wild and free the daughter of a playboy millionaire.."   

"Runaway with me then, Hellblazer.." he winked looking back at the door "We could go to Florida, fall in love, "

"We can't John, I'm not a rebel like you." she sighed, seeing Alfred outside the pub window,

"I thought .." 

"I'm sorry... I can't.." 

You're eyes without a face

Such a human waste

You're eyes without a face

"Love you.." John sighed,

And now it's getting worse

[fightmechimchim]

BTS at Wembley 💜

So I had the amazing opportunity to go see them at Wembley on Saturday and it was incredible. The entire time did not feel real, I thought when I'd see them I'll finally know they're real but even when I did see them they felt like a dream, it all felt like a beautiful dream. Ironically I also got to realise how normal after all they are, they moved and talked and sang and danced like normal people, just ordinary guys and that made me love them even more. I also realised how much respect and admiration I truly carry for what they do. Four songs in and I was tired, sweating, my arm was aching, my throat was so soar and I was dying to down a bottle of water, but they kept going and going and going. I thought it was impossible and inhumane to handle such choreographies and sing and rap at the same time, song after song, I felt like watching superhumans. I can really see the practise and the hard work paying off, they were incredible. The way they hopped around the stage, you could see that all of that was so well oeganised and practised and their energy brought a lot of energy to me and I was glad I could sing (poorly) and dance (poorly) with them. The experience was so unique and so beautiful and I kept getting emotional. At times I was distracted by the crowd, and those were the times I got emotional just thinking about how these lovely talented guys brought all of us together to enjoy ourselves, to love ourselves and celebrate a beautiful historical moment that I will always remember. I was sad to let them go but I was happy too, because I know they'll carry the same love and happiness to other people in other countries 💜 Thank you to BTS and ARMY for making up the brightest stars in the constellation of my universe 💜

My fav/memorable moments:

1. Namjoom saying how hard it is to get into UK charts and that he is so happy to have made it there and how happy he is to perform at Wembley. How we helped him get over a wall in his path and how he hopes that BTS could help us get over the walls in our own lives. I felt that.

2. Yoongi was sooooooo squish. I just wanted to snuggle him. He was truly greatful to perform at Wembley, I felt his sincerity and his gratitude from the way he talked and I am so glad to have been part of his dream.

3. Jimin's English was amazing!!!! The man was fluent as fluent can be I was so amazed and touched by his efforts. He also changed his voice to this growly tone and it was so funny! But he was GLOWING I'm telling you the man is an actual ANGEL FAIRY! His smile is contagious and when he said I love you I died.

4. Jin's Rhapsody recreation! This really made me realise that I was a part of a legendary story! The way ARMYS listened and followed and were so intune with him and the boys it was beautiful! We were all united in the best way possible! I am so glad to have been a part of such an amazing ethereal moment!

5. Their bloody British accents made me cackle so much. They were sooo cute. Tae's 'innit' and Jungkook butter rhyme killed meee.

6. Epiphany is a very soecial song to me helping me realise how much love I have and should have for myself, how at times it feels like me against the world, how much I truly appreciate myself. It was a song I sang in my room with my hand on my heart and crying imagining singing along with him and when I got to do it, with him singing along with me, with my hand on my heart, I broke down and couldn't not cry. Thank you Kim Seokjin.

7. YOONMIN calm your asses down! These boys killed me, Yoongi was such a fun personality on stage and Jimin was so adorable THANK YOU FOR THE HUG OF THE CENTURY!

8. Namjoon is a big boy I am telling you the man is big. At times it was hard to tell who was who on stage because I was further away than most but I could see Namjoon's long limbs dancing around. Thank you Mr. President.

9. Legs. I remember their legs. Synchronized legs dancing.

10. It's so hard for me to remember Singularity but I remember my voice singing along with him, I remember being stuck in this place in my mind where I was just holy shit he's really there, he's really there, I legit remember thinking if anyone comes to threaten him I will literally lay down my life for him.

11. Taehyung during Truth Untold. He loves us. He appreciates us. He's not taking this for granted. He loves what he does. He's greatful for what he has the opportunity to do. I watched him watch us. He looked at every side and every level appreciating every light in the stadium. It was in his eyes and it was so pure. I saw it again towards the end. I have no doubt that he loves the life he is leading.

12. I was not ready for Dionysus. I was not ready. I saw the dancers and thought oh cool we get an introduction to the dancers but then BAM BTS was there and my legs started shaking like idefk something that shakes like crazy. I was shook. I was lost. I was jssnsksbskabs. But boiii did I scream! My head started swaying and I thought I was going to faint but damn that was a religious experience!!!

13. Hobi's swag and his presence and his entire existance is GOD LIKE!!! There was a part where he wasn't singing and just walking towards the camera and holy shit that alone was so impactful. He literally is so fucking fascinating.

14. Baepsae. Namjoon and Hobi hip thrusting. That's it. I don't remember anything else.

15. I almost didn't see them disappear but then I did and I was okay to be honest. I just knew I'll see them again. Or maybe I'm in denial about not missing them yet and I'll spend the rest of my days crying internally :)

16. Jungkook is so beautiful??? He is so beautiful??? From where I stood he looked like a flying flamingo but he's so beautiful and his smile is brethtaking and his voice is like hello am I speaking to an angel???

17. Getting to scream J-Hope during just dance was like praying to a God thank you for that.

18. We were stomping on the ground and it felt amazing, the sound and the vibrations was like goddamn we are that powerful.

19. ARMY ARE SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL I SAW ALL OF YOU AND ALL OF YOU ARE STUNNING LIKE JESUS CHRIST WHAT ARE YOUR GENES EACH ONE OF YOU WAS BEAUTIFUL!!!!

20. We really are a galaxy, we were so magical with our lights and banners and our voices. Thank you ARMYLEGENDS!

21. "Special thanks to our voices ARMY" I always thought BTS voiced what was in our hearts and minds so perfectly. I didn't think they were speaking with our voices too. Thank you.

22. There's a lot more I might remember later but for now that is it. I cheered and sang to the best of my ability! I did some dope ass moves (I like to think I did leave me alone)

It was beautiful, magic, a dream, and the best day of my life. THANK YOU BTS AND ARMY! 💜💜💜

[redscullyrevival]

The Beekeeper’s Apprentice: Mary Russell Rundown

Oh boy oh boy I do love a good bump and dig into Holmes canon - especially if it has the potential to ruffle male fans! @sonnetscrewdriver knows me so well.

Plot/Setting/Narrative

So what’s the live or die, sink or swim, aspect of a non-Conan Doyle Sherlock-like tale?

Surly its not Sherlock’s characterization.

A child can get Sherlock right.

Is it the mystery? Is it the logical detective steps or flights of barely believable deductive ability key to the kingdom? 

Nah. 

While the ride is important and a big draw most every Sherlock versed individual typically learns not to put their eggs in that widely inconsistent basket. 

How about the narrative expression explaining and driving the Sherlock-like things in the story? 

You friggin’ bet ya! That’s the important stuff.

And Laurie King can certainly write a Sherlock-like narrative!

Holy hell.

King is as close to emulating a Doyle style narrative I’ve ever personally read but injects it with a wonderfully feminine perspective. 

And not overtly flowery and romantic lyrical male-writing-feminine but feminine in the ways important to a Sherlock-like story; in the detail observations our Mary Russell is often to share.

 The cases I feel could be a bit tighter other than the Kidnapping of Jessica which was surprisingly moving and really when I started to connect to Mary. 

Mary Russell

The elephant in the room, “is Mary Russell a Mary Sue?”

I don’t really care but very brief digging has resulted in learning many people do. 

Personally I think the best and most important thing to know about Mary Russell and by extension her creator is that on the official website there is a downloadable PDF titled “Information for the Writer of Mary Russell Fan Fiction” and is 17 pages of free organized information for fic writers and fans.

That’s simply beautiful. 

Seems to me Laurie King knows what shes fuckin’ about and what she owes in debt. 

And I don’t care if Mary Russell is viewed as some sad woman power fantasy by a wider Sherlock fanbase - but I won’t necessarily argue that she isn’t that either. 

Mary Russell most certainly is a Mary Sue as viewed by some people and the argument is easily kindled. 

And that’s not inherently bad is it? A little frustrating as its pretty obvious female characters get labeled Mary Sue disproportionately to male ones, to the point where there is no doubt in my mind that if Mary Russell were simply Russell hardly anyone would question or doubt his ability or companionship with Sherlock. 

To get to the point: 

I think Mary Russell is many things and like Sherlock as a character is adaptable to many reader views and interpretations - and ultimately its the controversy and wider discussion of her that makes Russell “valuable”.

I also think a big clue into the author’s intent with the character has to do with how her gender is discussed and made pronounced in text.

If Mary Russell never questioned her abilities or strength or worth as tied to her being a female in a very (very) male narrative space both within the one presenting her as well as the history of the character(s) she is tied to then the “Mary Sue” argument would have a lot more ground to claim, but as it is I am of the opinion that Mary Russell is meant to be a bit much and slightly antagonistic to what readers understand and unquestioningly accept regarding Sherlock and Sherlock canon. 

I’m also pretty certain she is meant to be just a good time as well!

Lots of humor and love in this first book and it’s easy to like Mary, it really is, and while she initially comes off a bit pious as her story goes on she becomes more honest and open with her readers.

The first person narrative is uncharacteristically Sherlock and probably what drives a lot of “Mary Sue” arguments I’d imagine (“It reeks of self-insert!”) but works well enough and allows us insights into Mary we need. 

Sherlock Holmes

This is a good Sherlock.

Very much a woman’s Sherlock. 

And I mean that in the nicest way possible and not a comment on the impending romance. 

‘Cause it’s going to happen and I might as well come to terms with it.

I’m actually really upset how okay I am with it to be completely honest.

I’m a romantic turd and I’m a sucker for relationships rooted in trust and belief in the other’s abilities so for me the impending romance (which is more “Mary Sue!” fodder and actually probably the biggest sore spot for anti-Russell folks I bet) is a combination of irritate and excitement. 

Sherlock has always been an attractive figure for a lot of people - the age old “Smart is Sexy” at work. 

I am one such people.

Very much a Spock vibe with Sherlock amirte???

The aloof disengaged approach to viewing relationships and emotional response paired with the logic and brains makes those characters someone you’d reallllly enjoy seeing crack (hence how their common and intense pairing with their closest ((of happen to be male)) confidants is so deeply satisfying). 

The age gaps between Mary and Holmes is intense though innit? 

YIKES.

A part of me wants to wax and wane on how irritating that is but then another part of me is practical and knows I can a.) ignore it b.) can’t help BUT ignore it because Holmes has the permanent visual image of stinkin’ Jeremy Brett in my traitor mind and I’m cool with watching him snog just about anyone! 

So. 

Hard to get up in arms about that really. 

A third part of me also doesn’t give a shit.

Why am I so certain romance will bloom?

Because this is a woman’s Sherlock and I don’t mean that then obviously romance must present its self but what I mean is that this Sherlock isn’t alien and convinced that romantic feelings are unintelligent. 

Kind of hard to explain but know it comes from years and years of reading various Sherlock Holmes fan fiction from various Sherlock Holmes properties and I know a “female holmes” when I see one. 

Eh, I’m not explaining this well I’m loosing steam here but yeah.

*shrugs*

I’m not being negative!

Highlighted Passages 

“As both I and the century approach the beginnings of our ninth decades, I have been forced to admit that age is not always a desirable state. The physical, of course, contributes its own flavour to life, but the most vexing problem I have found is that my past, intensely real to me, has begun to fade into the mists of history in the eyes of those around me.”

So, yes, I freely admit that my Holmes is not the Holmes of Watson. To continue with the analogy, my perspective, my brush technique, my use of colour and shade, are all entirely different from his. The subject is essentially the same; it is the eyes and the hands of the artist that change.

He was, as the writers say but people seldom actually are, openmouthed.

It was none other than the long-suffering Mrs. Hudson, whom I had long considered the most underrated figure in all of Dr. Watson’s stories. Yet another example of the man’s obtuseness, this inability to know a gem unless it be set in gaudy gold.

“Youth does not inspire confidence, in life or in stories, as I found to my annoyance when I set up residence in Baker Street.”

“I suppose you know I was prepared to hate him,” I said finally. “Oh yes.” “I can see why you kept him near you. He’s so…good, somehow. Naïve, yes, and he doesn’t seem terribly bright, but when I think of all the ugliness and evil and pain he’s known… It’s polished him, hasn’t it? Purified him.” “Polished is a good image. Seeing myself reflected in Watson’s eyes was useful when contemplating a case that was giving me problems. He taught me a great deal about how humans function, what drives them. He keeps me humble, does Watson.” He caught my dubious look. “At any rate, as humble as I can be.”

Looking back, I think that the largest barrier to our association was Holmes himself, that inborn part of him that spoke the language of social customs, and particularly that portion of his makeup that saw women as some tribe of foreign and not-entirely-trustworthy exotics.

It was a mad time, and looked at objectively was probably the worst possible situation for me, but somehow the madness around me and the turmoil I carried within myself acted as counterweights, and I survived in the centre.

It was the same, but I was different, and I wondered for the first time if I was going to be able to carry it off, if I could join these two utterly disparate sides of my life.

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes, I hope—” She looked down. “If my fears are correct, I have married a traitor. If I am wrong, I am myself guilty of traitorous thoughts against my husband. There is no win here, only duty.” Holmes touched her hand and she looked up at him. He smiled with extraordinary kindness into her eyes. “Madam, there is no treachery in the truth. There may be pain, but to face honestly all possible conclusions formed by a set of facts is the noblest route possible for a human being.”

“Are you telling me the butler did it?” “I’m afraid it does happen. Shall we search the woods for the débris?”

“It is, I can even say, a new and occasionally remarkable experience to work with a person who inspires, not by vacuum, but by actual contribution.”

Somehow me Da’ had raised a drunken mob in this tiny place, had summoned thick voices in song, and was driving them down the lane with the goad of his mad fiddle—a magnificent Welsh chorus, singing Christmas carols, in English, in an infinitesimal Welsh village, on a warm August night. Suddenly nothing seemed impossible, and as if the thought had loosed the house from stasis there was movement within.

“Is it always so grey and awful at the end of a case?” He didn’t answer me for a minute, then rose abruptly and stood looking down the road towards the house with the plane trees. When he looked around at me there was a painful smile on his lips. “Not always. Just usually.” “Hence the cocaine.” “Hence, as you say, the cocaine.”

The amazed adoration in her eyes was too much. I pulled her to me so I did not have to look at it. Her hair smelt musky-sweet, like chamomile. I held her, and she began to cry, weeping oddly like a woman rather than a young child, while I rocked us both gently in silence. In a few minutes she drew a shuddering breath and stopped. “Better?” She nodded her head against my chest. I smoothed her hair. “That’s what tears are for, you know, to wash away the fear and cool the hate.” As I suspected, that last word triggered a reaction. She drew back and looked at me, her eyes blazing. “I do hate them. Mama says I don’t, but I do. I hate them. If I had a gun I’d kill them all.” “Do you think you really would?” She thought for a moment, and her shoulders slumped. “Maybe not. But I’d want to.”

“Yes. They are hateful men, who did something horrid to you and hurt your parents. I’m glad you wouldn’t shoot them, because I shouldn’t want you to go to gaol, but you go ahead and hate them. No one should ever do what they did. They stole you and hit you and tied you up like a dog. I hate them too.” Her jaw dropped at so much raw emotion aired. “Yes, I do, and you know what I hate them for most? I hate them for taking away your happiness. You don’t trust people now, do you? Not like you did a few weeks ago. A six-year-old girl oughtn’t to be frightened of people.”

“You were brave, you were intelligent, you were patient. And as you say, it isn’t really over yet, and you’re going to have to be brave and intelligent and patient for a while longer, and wait for the anger and the fear to settle down. They will.” (And the nightmares? my mind whispered.) “Not right away, and they’ll never go away completely, but they’ll fade. Do you believe me?” “Yes. But I’m still very angry.” “Good. Be angry. It’s right to be angry when someone hurts you for no reason. But do you think you can try not to be too afraid?” “To be angry and—happy?” The incongruity obviously appealed to her. She savoured it for a moment and jumped to her feet. “I’m going to be angry and happy.”

No, I refuse to accept gallant stupidity in place of rational necessity.

“I dislike the idea of a murderer employing children,” said Holmes darkly. “It is, I agree, bad for their morals, and interferes with their sleep.”

The more I thought about it, the curiouser it became. What kind of human being would need a refuge capable of sustaining life in a siege?

“Good God, Holmes, where have you been to pick up such a stench? Down on the docks, obviously, and from your feet I should venture to say you’d been in the sewers, but what is that horrid sweet smell?” “Opium, my dear protected child.”

“The admission then caused me some shame. But, that was half a lifetime ago, and since then I have learnt, slowly, and painfully, that time and distance can prove a powerful weapon.”

The thought of telling someone, and having to see their face afterward, had always clamped my mouth down on the words, but now, to my exquisite horror and relief, I heard the words trickle from my mouth.

“I was merely going to say that I hope you realise that guilt is a poor foundation for a life, without other motivations beside it.”