#but you’re all as ashamed as i am to be in this boat <3

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

thinking about when keating asks the purpose of language and neil says “to communicate” and keating goes “no! to woo women!” like?? did you expect neil perry of all people to guess/resonate with that?? you know just as well as i do that mf is a homosexual.

[youcouldmakealife]

YCMAL Superlatives Write-ins (Rd 2)

Everyone continues to be hilarious.

Best Chirper:

Robbie - he maybe, might have made David smile once

Ulf or Liam, either way there’s innuendo involved

Kiro (if he can get to Oleg, I’m convinced he can get to anyone)

Liam, I am sure he is as annoying in the ice as off it

Kiro and he knows it

Stephen? in a cutting way, Dmitry in a silly way

Julius (but its in Finnish so no one knows)

Julius, if he ever opened his mouth

Devon Crane (feel like everyone is so terrified of him that deadpan chirps would go over *so* well)

Worst Chirper:

Money - I don’t know why, it just feels true

Ben is far too nice a young man for effective chirping

Bergen (“Hey Vinny, still doing that whole virgin shit to turn into a super goalie?”)

Shithead but he thinks hes great at it

Bryce because he is bad at being sarcastic and mean or David just because he is truly terrible at chirping

And...

David (anyone else is objectively wrong)

David. Poor thing.

David (but only when he’s intentionally chirping, he’s very effective at being hurtful when he’s not)

David! He tries the darling

David Chapman (I would die for him but even Max seems to be a better chirper)

david would never even try

Most likely to use a dozen hair and skin products:

I’m so caught between my dumb sons Seb and Bryce

whoever it is, they probably only do so because their [sister] told them to

Bryce - and maybe Jared after he steals all of Bryce’s products or at least his fancy shampoo

Bryce, as part of Recovering from Toxic Masculinity

Bryce the boy is so vain (rightly)

Most likely to use 2 in 1 shampoo and a bar of soap:

ScratchMoney, they are a 2 in 1 couple

Literally everyone but Bryce

Mike Fucking Brouwer. I know you’re not ashamed but I’m ashamed of you.

.... like 2/3s of the league

Mike (except he probably uses a 3 in 1)

Jared because of pettiness alone

Jared Matheson is judging his vain fashion pot husband

i hate to say it but. Andy.

Adam, out of sheer melancholia and frugality

The rest of them???

Benson (derogatory)

Most likely to win an Olympic medal in another sport:

Evan. In the summer olympics. And never tell anyone about it.

Seb for sailing. Based only on him having a boat and how hilarious Jake and David’s reactions would be to him winning medals for multiple sports

Kiro and Gally want to know if pranking is an Olympic sport

Playoff Willy (based on sheer determination alone)

Bryce, works so hard and dedicates himself to what he loves, hockey, Jared, it'd be the same any sport

Is it just me or could Oleg become a curler or something hilarious like that?

idk i feel like julius would do it out of sheer talent and pettiness, but don't ask me which sport

David (hardworking little weirdo)

I dunno why, but Willy. He just has that multiple-gold-medal vibe

Marc Lapointe (the man was born to be a champion)

And:

Marc (diving)

another write in for Marc (in diving)

Can we make the Marc diving joke or is that just for Dan?

And (100 points for making me cackle like a hyena):

.....................Aaron

Most uncoordinated off the ice:

So are ScratchMoney a single unit throughout? Because them.

Evan (he's not used to how big he is after bulking up so his spatial awareness is all off)

I don’t know why the answer is Andy, but it is

I really feel like it's Andy. Maybe Evan. Definitely one of the gentle giants.

evan immediately post growth spurt is like a teenaged dog

Sweet Baby Connie, he's like a newborn giraffe

Cody Gallagher (no clue, just vibes)

Joey if he’s drunk or feeling shy

Julius Halla (look idk if he's uncoordinated off the ice i just think it'd be funny if he were)

Most ‘ums’ in a single media availability:

Mike. Self censoring himself with all the swearing

Julius. This is not his language, he does not want this, someone please help.

ALL OF THEM except Stephen and Gabe

Charisma black hole Jared Matheson, and nobody will care because they’re all too busy staring at his gorgeous face

In my heart I know it’s Bryce

I’d say Julius but that implies that he speaks to them at all

Jared Matheson (with likes)

Liam but it was a bet

Evan Connelly (too anxious)

Most likely to get through an interview without a single filler word:

Marc. Mostly because he's ranting

David in full Hockey Canada robot mode

Dave (LISTEN I know he's not a player, but if he was he wouldn't use filler words)

Oleg has never said ‘um’ in his life

Marc when he gets going about the current dismal state of politics

Marc has his media planned out three weeks in advance

Willy, most charming man alive

Gabe. He has The Singular YCMAL Braincell

if there was any competition Marc would have taken them out already

David Chapman, if he deigns to answer interview questions

Marc and that's not even a question

David Chapman (thinks about everything before he speaks...usually)

Ref’s Favourite:

Any of the small number of people at the centre of the ‘sensible’ ‘competent’ ‘personable’ ‘plays hockey’ Venn diagram. So Gabe or Jordan

the caps as a team except robbie

Oleg Kurmazov (a no bullshit man)

And numerous (fair) iterations of:

Jordan Davies ;)

Refs' worst nightmare:

Dmitry Kurmazov (a yes bullshit man)

Jake Lourdes (every hit *right* on the edge of too hard)

Luke for fighting, Liam for mischief

Jake “i’m the captain it’s my job to argue with you while standing on top of the guy i just slewfooted in plain sight” lourdes

Have you met Seb?????????????

Holden Chase and Shithead when their first line privilege protects them from getting anything more than a 2 minute minor

Holden Chase (I don't know why this one needed the full name)

Liam. He'd 100% brat at them all the time and I love that for him

Willy (probably not but I love the juxtaposition of Willy and Playoff Willy)

[nanamismoonchild]

chapter 3- entrance

pairing: god!namjoon x goddess!reader

genre: fluff, angst, smut , greek god based au

warnings: this chapter is chill :D

wc; ~1.6k

Summary:   You’re a beauty. He is handsome. You’re Life. He is Death. You love him. But does he love you? There’s only one way to found out. And it’s by being the Queen.  

A/N: ngl im starting to love oc/reader persephone. what do yall think?

prev/next

The journey to the Underworld was quicker than you had imagined it would be. Possibly because of Jungkook rowing quickly across the Styx in a hurry to meet your demand. The ferryman was afraid of going any slower than he usually did in case you decided to feed him the other drachma that hung from your ear.  It was not as pleasant as you expected it to be. You could hear the agonizing moans of the Wraiths who lurked around the river Styx. They were doomed to be there for at least one hundred years as a result of not being able to pay the dreaded fee. 

The boat rocked back and forth, some of the water sloshing onto your feet. It was cramped and you could feel your backside begin to hurt from falling and from sitting on the bare floor of the dingy boat. 

Thankfully, the ride was over soon. The blue man helped you off of the boat while Jungkook was forced to glance at everything but you.  Probably because you were now wet and naked, something you hoped to remedy soon. 

“The entrance to the Underworld is just beyond the hill. I’m afraid your friend will meet Hecate as soon as he crosses the threshold. I am very ashamed of how I treated you Persephone. I beg your forgiveness,” Jungkook’s hoarse voice pleaded. He knelt down in front of you and kissed your feet. 

How sweet. 

“I will think about it. I still have to meet your ruler. Where would he be located?”

“In the throne room. He’s usually always there. I-I will escort you there.”

“There are too many dead people waiting to be taken across. I will guide myself. A throne room should not be hard to find. Consider yourself dismissed.”

You took the blue man’s hand and marched towards the entrance to the Underworld. It was strikingly brighter than the rest of the domain. The symbol of Namjoon, a large cornucopia that spilled its bountiful contents while a scepter was embedded into it, was the golden highlight of the door.  It was most definitely the only welcoming sight you had seen thus far. 

You could hear growling on the other side. 

Your mother had told you many stories of the land of the dead. They had been as dull as a well-used sword. The sheer boredom from listening to your mother tell the tales had put you to sleep as a child. Hearing the growls of the multiheaded dog named Cerberus, who guarded the entrance into the Underworld, made you wish you paid more attention to them. You had no idea how to pass the guard. Killing it was surely not an option. You had no plans to upset the God of the Underworld with any of your reckless behavior.

Unless it was in self-defense. 

Cerberus’s growling became louder as you neared the golden door. The energy from the door was making the Blue Man shake with nervousness. You were shaking as well, but it was mostly from the cold air that wrapped around your naked body. Hopefully, someone in the castle would offer you something to wear. That or you’d simply just steal the clothes off of the nearest servant.  

“How do you even open this door? It’s huge!” You exclaimed as the both of you stared at the door. 

The Blue Man shrugged and gestured a pushing motion.  He hadn’t spoken since the two of you dropped down into the Underworld. Perhaps he was afraid of you after the stunt with the ferryman. Good. 

“You want me to push the door? By myself?” The Blue Man shook his head quickly.  “That’s what I thought. We’ll push together on the count of three and once it opens, even a little, I want you to peek over and see if the guard is near. I do not have the time for running for my life in the Underworld.”

The Blue Man nodded again and placed his hands on the door, putting himself into a lunging position, prepared to push on the door with all of his ghostly might. You mirrored his stance. 

“On three, one, two, three, push!”

Both of you pushed and immediately fell faces first into the threshold of the entrance. The door might have seemed heavy, but it was the entrance to the underworld. It was as light as a door to a home. ��

Groaning, you sat up on your knees and took a peek at your surroundings. Cerberus was nowhere to be seen but his growling could still be heard in the distance. 

The door had spilled you and the blue man onto a pathway that forked into two paths. The ferryman had mentioned Hecate, and if you remembered correctly, the goddess ruled over crossroads among other things.  The fork was obviously a crossroad but where was the goddess?

“Dear Persephone.  There are many crossroads here in the Underworld. This is the one your little friend is supposed to see,” the goddess’s voice echoed as she appeared behind you. 

You startled and swiftly spun around to face her. Hecate had a knowledgeable smile on her face. 

“He knows what he must do. I have set up a nice set of decisions for him. He can choose to live and be reborn in Elysium. He has done many good things in his life. Or the other option is to live as a servant to Namjoon. Perfect right?”

“I do believe that is as fair as it comes. You are very generous.”

You turned towards the man who was turning a lot less blue. You could just make out his facial features. He was handsome for someone who lived poorly. His hair was nicely combed into a fashion that men wore these days-a side part that showcased his broad forehead.   His jaw was set in thought as he pondered his decision. This was his fate. 

He took a hesitant step towards the path as if he were weighing the benefits and outcomes of each path. You could only imagine what he could be thinking about. 

He could be reborn, but what if his new life was even harder than the last. He wouldn’t remember his old family, his children, his wife. He would have to create new memories, good or bad,  if the new life let him. 

On the other hand, who knew what the ruler of the Underworld would have him do. He could live out his eternity behind in the castle walls, bowing to every command. He had possibly about the kindness  Namjoon showed his servants and the freedom they were allowed. He only requested they complete their duties.

 Could he live with that? Could he live with knowing that he would be allowed to remember his old family, and possibly see them in the future when they grew old or died an early death such as he did?

The man took several more steps before he was bounding towards the path that led to the right. And then he was gone. 

“What a wonderful choice he made,” Hecate sighed dreamily at your side. She was holding a torch that had manifested in her hand as the blue man’s light disappeared.

“What choice did he make?”

“I cannot tell you, Persephone. But I do think you’ll find out soon. The throne room is just beyond that same path. I’m sure Namjoon is waiting for you. Goodbye.”

After answering and not answering your question, Hecate disappeared leaving only a white mist in her wake. Fortunately, she did leave the torch that floated in her place. Grabbing it, you straighten your shoulders and step into the same path the man had taken only moments ago. 

The man had simply vanished but the path before you seemed to stretch on for the gods know how long. 

“Of course, it would be hard for me. It isn’t my crossroad to walk on,” you muttered to yourself and continued on. 

You were beginning to regret not turning around (a first for you) before you heard the murmuring of voices. You started running in the direction of the voices.

Please, please, please, let there be a fire or something. My body is on the verge of hypothermia.  

The murmurs were becoming louder and you could make out a faint glow. 

Finally. Finally. 

You burst out into a crowded room. The murmurs had been coming from the servants who were surrounding something in the middle of the room.  They were all dressed in a mix of black, white, and grey clothing. There was a fire near where you had come from, so you snuck over to get a little warmth and to eavesdrop.

“Oh wow. Someone new!”

“He could take over my extra duties.”

“No mine!”

“Why did someone so handsome choose to become a servant?”

“Everyone, shush! Our King is coming.”

The crowd quieted down as loud but calculated footsteps resounded through the room. Everyone was holding their breath, including you. You had never met Namjoon in person as he preferred to stay in his domain.  

Nothing prepared you for the man in front of you. Your mother had always made it sound as if he were the most average man alive. 

He was nothing like that. Namjoon was exceptionally darker than the proposed pale that your mother had told. He held himself with an aura of royalty.

Namjoon made his way up to his throne where he stood tall and proud in front of his audience. 

“We have a newcomer today,” his deep tenor resonated through the room, “Please come up and introduce yourself to me before I sit.”

The man who you had journeyed with kneeled before Namjoon. He was dressed in the servant’s clothing and his brown hair was pulled back into a bun. 

“My name is Kim Seokjin. And it was an honor to serve you today, by leading the woman who you have been desiring to you.”

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (4/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

Found on Ao3: Beginning | Current

Found on Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

-/-

Emma has this thing about the summer tourists in Martha’s Vineyard. There are several types, but they can be categorized into two main groups: the annuals versus the one-timers.

It’s pretty self-explanatory. The annuals come back every year. They usually have a family home on the island or in Cape Cod or Falmouth, and they come back year after year to do the same things – from taking out the same boats to eating at the same restaurants. Then there are the one-timers. They get an opportunity to come and spend a week or two taking pictures, eating food, spending time by the ocean, going on hikes, and then they never, ever come back. They’ve seen enough.

The annuals pay for Emma’s life. The one-timers, though, keep her entertained.

If she never has to see them again, there are no consequences, no attached strings. It’s the perfect distraction, especially in the past few years, and she will not be ashamed of the choices she makes.

Not at all.

Except, right now, she’s seriously questioning her choices because sometimes Emma can be pretty damn stupid.

But then Killian’s hand slips down the back of her thigh, fingertips pressing into her skin, kneading it in the places that bring her pleasure, and she forgets how stupid this is and remembers how good it feels. His voice is deep with his teasing, his mouth soft, and when he uses his knee to nudge hers to the side, Emma complies and arches her back as he slowly guides himself into her. Her heartbeat speeds up, sweat already forming at the nape of her neck that not even the breeze from the open window can fix, and she continues to adjust her hips as Killian finds his rhythm.

It’s a damn good rhythm, one that only takes a little instruction on her part, before he’s leaning over her, sucking the skin at her neck, and building her toward a higher and higher pleasure as he whispers filth into her skin.

And for the minutes that it takes, ones that seem to fly and drag on all at once, Emma forgets how monumentally stupid she’s being by sleeping with him. It was a moment of weakness, one where she was lonely and he was there with his stupidly handsome features and charming stories, and it seemed like the obvious thing to do.

Even though she really did simply intend to invite him in for coffee, but how many people truly believe that offer to be taken at face value?

Emma thinks he’s an obnoxious flirt, but at least it’s nice to know he can back his words up with actions.

Emma scratches her fingers down his back until she’s tightening them around the muscles in his arms. He’s fitter than she imagined, which is always a bonus, and his muscles twitch as he continues to move in her, over her, until his hand reaches between them and Emma finds the subtle bliss she doesn’t often find from arrangements like this.

So, she’s stupid, but at least she’s satisfied.

Killian hovers over her as his thrusts become more erratic, as he finds his own release, his forehead pressed into hers, and then he’s rolling over, taking a breather next to her, before getting up to dispose of the condom and put his briefs back on. Emma does the same, using the bathroom to pee and wash her face, before putting on a t-shirt and pair of underwear.

“So, that was,” Killian begins when she comes back from the bathroom. He’s sitting on the end of the bed, body still on near full display as he presses his hands back.

“You’re only staying here this summer, right?” Emma interrupts.

He raises one brow, then the next. “Aye. I don’t imagine I’ll return next year. My life should be…less complicated then.”

Okay, good. Maybe she’s not so stupid after all.

Because he may be friends with Ariel and Eric, which isn’t the clean break she’s looking for, but it’s clean enough.

She wonders how his life could be complicated. She doesn’t know much about him, but she knows enough. He’s rich, can take months off from work to vacation, and there’s little chance he actually knows what complicated is.

“Why do you ask?” he continues, scratching his neck.

Emma shrugs. “Because this wasn’t…this was casual. I’m not into having a relationship, especially with someone who has an expiration date.”

“Trust me, love,” he laughs, “neither am I. I do fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me, but I know what this was. I’m not under any impressions otherwise.”

Emma nods and grabs a pair of sleep shorts from one of her drawers. “Well, good. That’s good.”

This is always the awkward part. Do they stay or do they go? Emma votes go, but she’s unsure how to ask without coming off as a total bitch.

Especially since this is a man who already knows her more than he should.

“Yeah,” he smiles, “it is good.” He leans down and picks up his jeans, standing to slide them on. Why the hell are his pants that tight. “But I have the feeling you’re waiting on me to leave, so I can do that for you.”

“Oh, I - ”

“Perceptive, Swan.” He points to his head. “I told you I’m actually quite perceptive, and I meant it. Have a good night, love. I’m sure I’ll see you around the island.”

He finishes getting dressed as Emma stands in the corner and crosses her arms, watching him. Not five minutes ago she was watching him move in a completely different way, and the memories nearly tempt her to ask him to stay.

She’s stupid, but she’s not that stupid.

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, “I’ll see you around.”

-/-

July

“Can you work Saturday, Ashley?” Emma asks as she pulls up next week’s schedule. “Heather apparently can’t, and I have to have someone cover her shift. You’ll get good tips.”

“I can work then, but I need next Thursday morning off. I have an appointment.”

Emma adds Ashely’s name into the chart and looks up as Ashley rubs her hand over her stomach. “I’ll cover you. Are you finding out the gender?”

“I am. I’m excited.”

“Good.” Emma closes her laptop and stands from behind her desk. “I’m glad you’re excited. How are things out there?”

“Busy. I’d expect nothing less from the holiday week.”

Emma inhales before breathing out a slow exhale. “I wouldn’t either. I’ll come and help out. Make sure you’re taking enough breaks and drinking enough water. I don’t want you exhausting yourself.”

“I’m not,” Ashley promises, but Emma knows how tired the girl is, “but I really appreciate you.”

They walk out of Emma’s office, and while Ashley goes back to her section, Emma starts doing her rounds, checking in with her servers and cooks, making sure everything stays up to the standards she needs. This is one of their busiest weeks of the year, and she can’t afford for anything to go wrong. They had a hiccup last week with the bread order, and with how many burgers they’re selling, she really can’t afford for that to happen again.

Once she’s done checking inside, she walks to their outside area. It’s such a pleasant day out with the sun shining directly over them. The boardwalks are full of people, the beaches the same, and she sees more boats out on the water than usual.

She also sees a familiar mop of black hair sitting alone at the end of their outdoor patio. She hasn’t seen him since he left her house a few days ago, headlights of his Jeep fading in the distance.

Go figure that he’s here again. He seems to be fond of the place.

“You really like the food here, huh?”

“That and the manager.”

Emma laughs and leans against the railing as a family boards a boat a few feet away, their voices carrying over to Emma. It’s four of them, mom, dad, brother, and sister. It’s the picture-perfect New England family, and she imagines all the brochures in the tourism office look just like this.

And not at all like her.

“Laying on the charm a little too thick,” Emma sighs, shaking her head. “But I have a feeling that’s your thing.”

“I like to think it’s just the right amount.” He spears a bit of his omelet and pops a bite in his mouth. “What are you doing out here?”

“My job.”

His brow arches and he reaches out his arm, moving it around to the railing. His skin has tanned since she first met him, and she must admit, at least to herself, that he looks good. “You check in on all your customers like this?”

“Just the ones who keep coming back.” “To be fair, I figured I could avoid you seeing me if I sat out here.”

Emma rolls her eyes as the family’s boat starts and begins to stutter away. “Look, you can come here all you want. I know I - I didn’t make it seem that way, but I don’t care what you do or don’t do as long as you don’t expect anything from me.”

“Not a thing, love.”

“Good.” Emma stands, tightening the knot on her Blue Dog Tavern t-shirt. “But, you know, if you did happen to be up late at night, and I happened to be up, I wouldn’t oppose you stopping by for some coffee.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Well, some nights, of course. When I feel like it.”

Killian chuckles and leans back in the chair, the front legs coming off the ground. “When you feel like it. And how would I know that?”

Emma pulls her phone out of her back pocket and holds it out to him. Without a word, he types his number in and hands it back to her. “That’s how you’ll know. I hope you enjoy your meal, Jones.”

Emma taps him on the shoulder and walks away, shaking her head. She’s stupid. So damn stupid, but as she walks back into the main dining hall and sees how crazy it is, she thinks she deserves a bit of a break, a bit of fun. She’s an adult. She can make stupid decisions sometimes.

Especially hot, British stupid decisions who are here on a time limit.

Her life is messy already. What’s one more thing?

-/-

Emma pops open a beer bottle, throwing the top away and settles on David and Mary Margaret’s pool lounge chair, pulling her legs up to keep them out of the sun. Ruby, meanwhile, is on full display on a pool float, as is David. Mary Margaret is joining Emma in the no sun club.

“So, how are you lately?” Mary Margaret asks, sipping on her lemonade. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in a week.”

“That’s because you haven’t.”

Mary Margaret laughs and puts her drink on the table between them. “Well, you have to tell me what you’ve been up to. I don’t know how you deal with months without - ”

“Oh my God,” Ruby screeches, nearly flopping into the pool before she paddles her way toward the two of them, “I totally forgot.”

“What’d you forget, hon?”

“That I saw Emma’s hot British friend running yesterday, and I nearly passed out.”

“Why?” Emma asks, sipping on her beer again. “Were you running too? I told you to stop doing that when you haven’t had water in ages. You’ll legitimately pass out.”

Ruby kicks and some of the water splashes onto the side of the pool. “Hey, careful!” David yells. “I just cleaned this grout.”

“Yes, Dad,” Ruby mocks, kicking more water before paddling to the edge of the pool. “Anyway, I meant to say that I saw him, was reminded of just how attractive he is, and Emma, my darling, I must say that there is no harm in having a little summer fun. In fact, I encourage it. It’s good for the soul. And the vagina for that matter.”

Emma spits out her beer, the alcohol spilling onto the tile, and she swear David gives her murder eyes even though he’s gone back to lounging with his eyes closed. “You need a filter, Rubes.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Emma laughs and stretches her legs out, letting her toes peep out of the shade and into the brightness of the sun. “I will have you know, though, that he doesn’t plan on returning next summer. He has an expiration date.”

“So you fucked him?” Ruby asks, a little too gleeful.

“You can fill in the blanks.” Emma pulls her feet back under the shade and closes her eyes.

She’s not shy with her friends, especially Ruby. they know enough about each other’s lives to fill books about, but some things, Emma keeps under wraps unless she absolutely has to share them. Or unless she’s in the mood. Right now, with David nearby and with Mary Margaret totally judging her.

The woman is kind and fun and supportive, but she also met David a decade ago and knew he was the one on the first date. Personally, Emma thinks that is bullshit, but she’d never tell anyone that. You can know someone for years without truly knowing them, so how could anyone be so sure on a first date?

David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard somehow were.

“You know, Emma,” Mary Margaret begins, “that wall you keep up may keep out pain, but it may also keep out love.”

Emma laughs and presses the cold bottle to her lips. “Marg, I’m sleeping with a guy for fun. It’s not a love match. Let me have this. In September, I’ll go back to being the Emma Swan who doesn’t do stupid things like this.”

“I didn’t - ”

“It’s fine.” Emma finishes her drink and pulls her hair into a high bun before standing and walking toward the pool, quickly submerging herself in the water to get used to the chill. She swims over to David and pulls on his float. “Hey.”

He lifts his sunglasses. “Hey.”

“How goes the job? Still seeing a bunch of cats and dogs be cute?”

“Cute and gross. What’d Mary Margaret say to make you leave your cocoon of shade?”

“Nothing. Just thought I’d come say hi to you. I do like you from time to time.”

David chuckles and slides his glasses back on. “I only believe half of that, but it’s alright. I won’t push.”

“And that’s why I love you.”

Emma stays with the Nolans and Ruby for the rest of the afternoon, and no one bugs her about her dating life, thank God. They all mean well, truly, but sometimes the last thing Emma wants to do is listen to them. On the spectrum of how they approach love, Emma is somewhere in the middle. She’s not David and Mary Margaret with their love conquers all attitude, and she’s not Ruby with her casual, carefree approach to simply seeing where the wind takes her. She’s...well, she doesn’t know what she is. All Emma knows is that while she’s experienced the highs of what love can bring, she has also experienced the lowest of the lows.

It’s safer in the middle. If you don’t fall in love, you can’t get your heart broken. But you can have some fun when you need it.

Hence, Killian, even if he is not the someone she expected to be having her summer fun with.

God, when she thinks like that, it sounds like she’s narrating a beach movie where all the colors are too bright and no one ever sweats despite spending their entire lives outside.

Speak of the devil, a group of young girls ride down the street on bikes, laughing, their hair falling behind them, and then two minutes later, they’re back again. What the hell?

That’s when she realizes they have a friend with a camera standing on the sidewalk, taking pictures of them, and Emma rolls her eyes before turning to grab her purse and her keys. “I’m going to head home,” she yells out. “I want to beat all the drunk drivers and the illegal fireworks home.”

“Wait, don’t go,” Mary Margaret insists from her spot on the couch. “Let me get you some leftovers.”

“Marg, you don’t have to feed me.”

“I know, I know.” She stands from the couch and heads toward the kitchen. “But you so rarely cook, and it’s good for you to have real meals. And since you’re alone without - ”

“Oh my God,” Ruby squeals, king her leg out. She nearly knocks over the vases and books Mary Margaret keeps on her coffee table. “Holy fuck. Like, fuck.”

Emma drops her purse. “What?”

Ruby raises her hand and folds her fingers, beckoning Emma to come closer to her. Emma rolls her eyes, but she does it anyway, plopping down next to Ruby.

“Okay, so, I couldn’t stop thinking about your new boy toy,” she starts.

“Not a toy,” Emma corrects. “He’s fine with the arrangement too.”

“Whatever. Anyway, I wanted to know more about your little sex buddy, not that I think he’s little in any way, so I went to Ariel’s Instagram, searched through her followers, and found him. And, well…”

Ruby shoves her phone into Emma’s hands, and Emma looks down, scanning through the photos. It’s a lot of group shots of men in soccer uniforms, and she thinks that’s weird but okay. He’s a member of a little soccer club back home. That seems like something rich people in England would do. It’s probably more interesting than her extracurricular hobbies which consist of eating, going to the gym, and sitting in David and Mary Margaret’s living room. It’s not like she has any room to judge someone over what they do in their free time.

Still, she continues scrolling, careful not to like anything, and it’s not until she comes across a picture of him with his shirt off that she stops to really think.

Not because he has his shirt off. She’s seen that in person. She doesn’t need to see that in pictures.

But because of the number of likes on the picture.

And the number of followers he has.

And then the little blue checkmark next to his name.

Holy fuck indeed.

“So, that’s how he has money to rent one of the big houses over in Edgartown.” Emma closes out the app and hands Ruby back her phone. “Well, that’s interesting.”

“Interesting?” Ruby scoffs, getting loud enough that David finally looks up with his own phone. Mary Margaret remains clueless in the kitchen. “You’re sleeping with a literal professional athlete, and that’s your reaction?”

Emma shrugs and stands from the couch as David asks Ruby to see what she was showing Emma. “David obviously finds it more interesting than me. I don’t care who he is or what he does or doesn’t do. That’s none of my business.”

Ruby gapes, David does too, and while Emma does have a bit of a weird feeling in her gut, she truly does not care what Killian Jones does. She’s got a few questions, sure, but much like the other men she’s been with lately, all she needs to know is if they’re clean and if they have condoms.

A little crude, but it’s the truth.

“Holy shit, Emma,” David whispers, but Emma is already ready to go, making her way into the kitchen to get the tupperware from Mary Margaret before this becomes a thing and she gets home too late.

It’s not a thing.

And she wants to go home.

-/-

It’s definitely not a thing, but she does think about it the next time he comes over. Not for long, though. Just when she notices a noticeably defined muscle she’s a little jealous of, but then he does this particularly delicious thing with his tongue or his hips that makes her completely forget about it.

And it’s not a thing when she thinks about it when she sees him running along the sidewalk outside the Blue Dog. She can run. She’s fit. She hates doing it, but she can. He just seems...graceful or something that she isn’t always. It’s difficult for her to articulate in her mind.

It continues to not be a thing each time she sees him, even when he invites her to his place for a change of scenery. The house, surprisingly, isn’t overly big compared to some of the other houses in the neighborhood, but it’s definitely not a place she could ever afford.

Not if she worked her literal ass off for five lifetimes and never spent any of her money.

All of the finishes are new, the design that modern coastal feel Emma sees on all the HGTV shows, and she can’t say she minds it. Her taste has always been a little more eclectic, but it’s nice, clean. And maybe one day when she’s not living in someone else’s house, she’ll actually decorate where she lives to her taste.

One day.

“Nice place,” Emma says, craning her neck so he can run his lips in just the right spot. He’s a quick study, which she appreciates, and he always remembers whatever she tells him.

“I like it,” he mumbles, his voice vibrating against her skin.

“Is this your style? Do you live in a big coastal home back in England?”

She doesn’t know why she asks, but she does.

He pulls back and raises his brow, which is this thing he’s always doing. At first it was annoying, like he was always questioning her, but now she realizes his brow likely has a mind of its own.

“Why do you ask, love?”

And much like the brow, that word seems to slip off his tongue without much thought. It has also become less annoying.

“No reason. Just curious.”

“I thought we didn’t ask personal questions.”

“You,” she corrects, tapping his chest, “don’t ask personal questions. I never said I couldn't ask.”

“I don’t think those are rules I agreed to.”

Emma ducks from underneath his arms, making her way into the open space of the living room. She unbuttons her shirt until her bra is exposed, and Killian’s eyes immediately glance down. Men are so easy.

“Okay, fair,” Emma sighs, running her hand over the back of a very well-made couch. “If I ask you a personal question, you can ask me one in return. But I have the right to veto. It’s a tit for tat situation.” He opens his mouth, and she already knows what he’s going to say. Again, men are so easy, and this is one that never passes up the opportunity for an innuendo. “Don’t say it, Jones.”

“Wasn’t going to.” He strides toward her, his movements fluid, and he puts his pointer finger in the empty belt loops of her jean shorts to pull her closer to him. He’s ridiculously warm. Then again, that could just be the flush in her cheeks. “And to answer your question, no, my flat in England doesn’t look like this. The colors are darker, but I do have a lot of blue and a few nautical pieces.”

“So you like the ocean then?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he corrects, tugging on the loops again, “you’ve already asked your question.”

“Asking if you like the ocean is not a personal question.”

“Anything can be a personal question depending on the person.” There’s a flash of something in his eyes, but Emma can’t decipher it. She’s usually a little better at reading people than that. “That can be your question for tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” she asks as his hands sneak around to her ass.

“Yep. One personal question a day. Keeps things interesting while separate.”

“And we keep the veto rule?”

“Aye, we keep the veto rule, Swan,” he smiles, dipping his head down to kiss her. That’s the entire reason they’re here, after all.

“Good.”

Tomorrow, she’s totally going to ask a better question than if he likes the beach or not. He left England to hang out in Martha’s Vineyard for a few months. He obviously likes it.

“So,” Killian begins as he skillfully snaps the hook on her bra off. Emma lifts her back from the couch to give him easier access. “Tell me, darling, do you like seafood?”

His mouth grazes over her nipple, and Emma yanks on his hair, hard. “Is this your one personal question?”

“Aye.”

Emma rolls her eyes at the same time that she rolls her hips, and she thinks there must be some kind of metaphor for her life choices there.

“Love it.”

“Good,” he whispers as his warm hands run down her bare stomach and underneath the waistline of her shorts. “Then I insist you stay for dinner.”

And because Emma has been all into making stupid decisions over the past month, she does.

-/-

-/-

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[pendragaryen]

The things that stay with us...

This was supposed to be my last BFSN-post while the show is still airing - the last BFSN-entry right before the series finale. But now it’s just... a FSN-post? Call it a Big-Hug-post. A Hug-Gratitude-post. Or whatever you prefer. Though in my heart Bellarke will ALWAYS be canon (and nothing can ever change that): They didn’t give it to us in the actual show (a show, whose narrative clearly told us otherwise all this time, but well.. whatever...). It’s too much honour to grace such a disappointing last season with a BFSN, dearies. (Or... even more so now? ;P ) So, call it what you like i guess! ;). Honestly, i didn’t want it to end.. just like that... without any last words to you, the kindest, most tolerant and beautiful minded fandom i’ve ever been (proudly!) a part of since 2016. (The selfie lies. It’s not current. I’m sorry, i can’t show you my face these days.. This is from the day just before it all went inevitably down with this season: BB’s death. So... enjoy: That smile’s for you, fam! ;) 2nd pic: The tattoo i got almost two years ago now, on Sept. 22nd 2018, and that never fails to remind me of my emotional support person and the fact, that after every “down” in life there will come an “up” again <3<3<3 )

What makes the whole experience of this last ever season of The 1OO for me so incredibly sad is.... Well, please bear with me if you will... My english STILL isn’t the very best... But i’m trying to put my feelings into words:

Last year, when we got the news that S7 would be the final season, i DREADED this moment. I was AFRAID of this last day (and the hours) before the actual finale. And why so? Bc I am a person, who’s an incredible loser when it comes to let go of the things i love so dearly. Like The 1OO. I... in times i was OBSESSED with it, with the story, with the chacracters and the way they’ve been written, so credible, so tangible in their actions, nothing was just bad or good and even the villains actions had been understandable to some extend. It was amazing! I felt with almost every character! I LOVED it. (And to be very clear here: I’ll never STOP loving The 100′s 6 seasons, that are still existing for me!)

But what i wanted to say is: I dreaded the moment when l would have to let it go. THat inevitable moment, when this show with all its storylines and characters, that have been a part of my life for the last years and that i love so dearly, really ends. Forever. It would end and i wouldn’t be ready to let go, bc it means the world to me. Bc it changed me in more than just one way - no, even better, bc it made me want to change myself! “To do better...” *ugly crying...* THis show SAVED me in a way and in a time, where i was in a very dark place in life, in a very dark mind space (constant illnesses, termination of my job due to these illnesses, an ugly lawsuit etc. pp) , this show and its actors, especially one Robert Alfred Morley (yes), who helped me to look at myself and my mental insecurities and illness from a whole new point of view. I wasn’t ashamed of myself anymore. I felt... relieved. Understood. I even felt kind of loved for what i am, even with my anxieties. (There may or may not come a point or even a person in everyones life, that helps to develop this new kind of view on themselves. And for me this person was and always will be Bob Morley. And whatever happens, i’ll always love him for his open- and kindness and be thankful for his inspiration. I still call myself lucky to have talked with him a couple of times. I treasure these moments. Always.)

So, i was AFRAID of this day, when this all would come to an end. I KNEW it would wreck me, i would be devestated, i would be so incredibly sad, that i won’t be able to put it into words.

And here i am now. I AM sad. I AM devestated. But for so very different reasons that i could never imagine in my wildest nightmares... This last season... Season 7--- no i won’t start again. Not AGAIN. But... just that: What they’ve been creating for us here... it really overshadowed my joy of watching this show throughout this last season, yes even BEFORE that horrible murder of my all time fave and comfort character. I take back whatever i said about S6 or even S5. THIS... S7 was the season, that didn’t feel like the show i fell in love with anymore. Though changes CAN be refreshing and exciting... these changes haven’t been that for me.

Look. The thing is: Even WITH Bob’s request for time off and everything... There would’ve been PLENTY options for the writers to actually make it all make kind of sense! THEY COULD’VE DONE IT BETTER! If they’d really wanted to, that is... And here’s the point: I think they didn’t WANT it. For whatever reasons, whatever happened bts, they decided to do it like they did. And no-one’s able to understand their choices or the characters anymore - those characters we used to know so well, these characters i felt with over the course of so many seasons - who i could understand! EVEN THE VILLAINS! And now... look at the thanks we got. I can’t understand shit anymore when it comes to S7. Bc nothing makes sense. When i see even the GREATEST meta-writers among us surrender in their posts - than it’s really sad times for this fandom...

It’s not even just about Bellarke anymore. Sure, i AM disappointed that they’re not canon now. But then they shouldn’t have arranged the whole story around these two! “The backbone of the whole story”!!! I am laughing. In that case S7 was SPINELESS! Let me tell you. Everyone’s just... flailing around... great little side storylines, but somehow... disconnected from each other and all over the place. That’s how it felt for me to watch this season. And i’m feeling so exhausted by now... I never stopped hoping... I always thought, at some point it would make sense. I’ve read all your great metas AND I WANTED TO BELIEVE! It made perfect sense! (I seriously felt like Fox Mulder from time to time this season... and the lack of sense in the storyline as well as the complete absence of my personal faves (yes i include Clarke (Eliza) here, bc heck, she was so sidelined this season too, self inflicted or not) - all these things had been the “UFO’s or aliens i was hoping to see” one day... Guess i was wrong.)

I’m babbling... Sorry. But it will be for the last time in that kind of form. Promise.

At the end of the day (at the end of all things.. sigh, Frodo... i see you... *blinks back tears*) I am so glad that you’re all here with me, in the same boat. That I’m not alone feeling this kind of lost and baited and betrayed. Bc whatever you like to call it: The narrative promised us otherwise. Did JRott OWE us canon Bellarke? NO. Of course not. But HIS STORY did. The story he’d been telling us for SIX GD YEARS! THAT is what makes me so mad. But most of the time (and despite the selfie above) i’m just sad. Sad and disappointed. I know it will pass one day. And that i’ll find joy in watching S1-4, even S5 except for a couple of scenes, and certain episodes of S6 again. But now is not the day. Even IF they’ll give these characters a “happy ending” in some transcended form or whatever, in the afterlife maybe,... S7 is ruined for me. It wasn’t even a bliss for me before, but it was certainly ruined after they killed “The Heart” - pointlessly (THIS is what will haunt me even years from now..).

Today is the day for saying goodbye. It aches my heart, that we’ll have to do it the way we have to now. But at least we are together. So let’s raise a glass in honour of all the hours of joy and excitement this show brought us over the years, maybe even the tears and laughter, let’s raise a glass for the outstanding performances of the cast and the great storylines some writers developed for us. I am thankful beyond words. Let’s raise a glass to this awesome, talented fandom! I’ve met and talked to dozens of you guys througout the years, and it had always been a pleasure! I hope we’ll stay in touch! <3<3<3 And last but not least: Let’s raise a glass for Kass Morgan. This is HER baby in more than just one way. Without her vision... there wouldn’t have been a show. Or even Bellarke. CANON Bellarke, that is! ;) And i LOVE it!

These are the things that stay with us, these are the things we will remember.

So, have fun with the finale tonight guys! Or should i say: Good luck? ;) I won’t watch now. I haven’t watched since 7x13, and i won’t start again tonight. Not even for the finale. BUT... i’ll probably do it some day in the future. I’m still kind of curious after all. And there are still some characters i want to know how it ends for them. It‘s just... i don’t want to support any ratings. I don’t want to support JRott anymore. But i’ll probably get back to it - if what y’all will write about it afterwards looks promising or not... ;)

See you on the other side!

(Tags under the cut)

Hugs and love to you, dear fam! Tagging @together-is-my-favourite-place @natassakar @geekyogicheese @immortalpramheda @carrieeve @bellamyblake @angelbellamy @burninghoneyatdusk @iwearplaids @wankadi @katersann @nvermindiseeyou @ruggedmurphy @clarkgriffon @poppykru @broashwhat @malclmbright @kizo2703 @cominguproses13x @clarkeindra @tenmonologues  @shialablunt @sometimesrosy @zavens @wonderingwhyy @charmainediyoza @the-suns-also-rise @lee-em-dee @bellamynochillblake​ @junebugninja @songhyeri @underbellamy @talistheintrovert @jeanie205 @bellamys11thfreckle @doontpanic @clarkegriffinblake @goddess-clarke @eyessharpweaponshot @hostagetakerandhistraitor @infp-with-all-the-feelings @theatre-steph @historyofbellarke @as-inevitable-as-morning @bisexualbellamyblake @little-oxford-st @delicatebluebirdruins in no particular order (i am so sorry in advance, if i should’ve forgotten someone... >.<), and yes, i include you too @merlination my Danny, bc without you, i wouldn’t have started watching The 1OO in the first place... ;)

[longitudinalwaveme]

Len Snart’s Creepy/Pathetic Proposals, Part 3

For this post, we will be looking at Flash #140, “The Heat is On--For Captain Cold. It was published in November 1963, and was written by John Broome and drawn by the inimitable Carmine Infantino.

In addition to being another story where Captain Cold creeps on pretty women, this story also features the first appearance of his fellow Rogue Heat Wave, alias Mick Rory. 

The comic opens with Barry and Iris at the latter’s apartment, watching TV. Iris, being Silver Age Iris, suddenly turns off the television. “I didn’t like the way you were staring at that girl, Barry Allen!” (The program he was watching featured a celebrity named Dream Girl). 

Barry proceeds to lodge his foot firmly in his mouth. “I wasn’t staring! I was just waiting for Dream Girl to turn around!” He then has to quickly explain that the Flash “told” him that the Willens and Kohl Law Firm asked the Flash if he could find the heir of Mr. Varner, a wealthy mining magnate whose only child was believed lost in a shipwreck. 

The child in question had a diamond-shaped birthmark on the back of her neck. If she can be found, she gets a two million dollar trust fund (roughly $16 million in today’s money) and an additional $10,000,000 (roughly $80 million) will go to charity. If she can’t be found before the end of the next day, all the money will go to a couple of “ne’er-do-well” relatives of Mr. Varner’s. Why he didn’t just arrange for all the money to go to charity if she wasn’t found is anyone’s guess. But regardless, that’s why Barry wanted to see Dream Girl’s back. 

Iris, surprisingly, immediately accepts this explanation like a reasonable person and even turns on the TV again...but instead of Dream Girl’s program, they see an important news broadcast that reveals that Cold has broken out of prison (again). This time, he escaped by using “one of his fantastic cold guns, which he manufactured out of spare freezer parts in the prison workshop!” WHY WAS NO ONE SUPERVISING HIM TO MAKE SURE THIS DIDN’T HAPPEN? 

Barry leaves Iris and promptly changes into the Flash to go on the hunt for Captain Cold. 

We then cut to Captain Cold’s hideout in a cave. It’s decorated by a humongous picture of Dream Girl’s head and neck (seriously, it’s like as large as he is.) 

“There! It’s the largest picture of Dream Girl I could find! Of course, she’s everybody’s dream girl now, but soon things will be different...and she will be mine alone! I admit that at various times in the past I’ve--ah--thought myself attracted to other girls! But the feeling I had for them pales into insignificance compared to what I feel for Dream Girl!” 

Len Snart reads women’s magazines in prison. Make of this what you will. He also broke out of prison solely to woo her away from the Flash, who is currently her dream man. So, how is he going to do this? He’s going to commit crimes and fight the Flash, that’s how! 

“Why, I’ll make a sap out of the Flash! I’ll pull off crimes right under his nose! I’ll show him up for the stumblebum he is--compared to Captain Cold! And by doing that, I’ll prove to Dream Girl that I’m really the man she thought Flash was! I’ll become her dream man--and nobody else!” Len, that’s insane. 

Cold decides to get her attention by robbing the exiled government of Guanador (one of DC’s many fake countries), who are “arriving here in Central City with all the bank notes they could steal-I mean all they could carry away with them-from the Gauanadorian Treasury!” 

The next day at 8 AM, Cold strikes. “No criminal in his right mind would dare try anything here today--against all these forces of law and order. But as it so happens--I’m not in my right mind--I’m in love! Ha ha!” Unfortunately for him, the Flash pops up. “At last! My long night’s vigil has paid off! I’ve come across Captain Cold!” In other words, Barry ran across the city all night for almost no reason. Cold didn’t do anything until 8 AM the next day!

Before Flash can defeat his rival, however, he is shot in the back with a blast of intense heat. Heat Wave is on the scene!

“How about that hot reception, Flash? Allow me to introduce myself, the one enemy you will never conquer! Heat Wave--at your service!” Mick is perhaps a bit overconfident here. 

For some reason, instead of jumping into action, Flash stands around long enough for Heat Wave to blast him again, knocking him unconscious. (“That sizzling blast! Hitting me with the force of a pile-driver--uh!”) Cold and Heat Wave then team up and escape the scene of the crime. 

The two go to Captain Cold’s cave hideout, where Heat Wave explains that he used to be a fire-eater in the circus, but that he “lost his taste for the work”. 

“I created my own uniform--and my weapon--a heat gun!” Yes, this is all the explanation the comic is going to give you for this. Note that his gun isn’t technically a flamethrower at this point, either, so you can’t really handwave it away that way. 

And then the never-ending puns begin. “It sure is hot stuff, Heat Wave! You know, we should make a good team...and since you have no hideout of your own yet, you’re welcome to share mine!” The Flash Rogues have always been oddly chummy in this way; I’d believe that basically any of them would have made the same offer. 

Of course, things basically fall apart immediately thereafter when Heat Wave reveals that he’s also in love with Dream Girl. “She’s the reason I gave up fire-eating! I was determined to win her love! And I knew the only way to do it was to show up Flash--her dream man!” Heat Wave and Captain Cold are so similar they even share the same nonsensical logic...but man, at least Cold was already a crook. Heat Wave gave up an established career for this insanity!

The two shoot at each other (to basically no effect, since their blasts cancel each other out).

Cold: You!? You’re just a big nothin’! Dream Girl will be mine--and nobody else’s!” 

Heat Wave:  And you-you’re just a cold-hearted Romeo!

I think Cold won this round of insult-slinging, Heat Wave. Your insult didn’t even make sense.

However, instead of continuing to fight, the two instead decide that whoever commits the most spectacular crimes will win the girl. “As far as I’m concerned, Heat Wave, that bet is ice-cold!” The puns….the puns! Make them stop! 

Flash runs around looking for the pair of criminals, who have apparently been causing enormous damage to the city because of their confrontation. Note that the art completely fails to convey this. 

When the Flash shows up, the two crooks promptly call off their rivalry in the face of a bigger threat, planning to take it up again as soon as Flash is defeated. Each hits Flash from one side, creating the awesome-looking image from the cover. 

However, Flash isn’t down long, as he uses his control over all his molecules to conduct the cold to the side of his body being blasted by the heat gun and vice-versa. Sure, that makes sense. SCIENCE! 

Flash then creates a suction vacuum that knocks the two crooks together. Flash takes them back to prison, where both men explain their insane motivations for the crime spree that did a bunch of damage that we didn’t see. 

Flash then goes to meet with Dream Girl, who...shock! Surprise!...is actually Mr. Varner’s long-lost daughter. She has a picture of herself with the birthmark and had it removed only recently. Dream Girl also grew up in an orphanage and has a fear of water, which could be explained by the boat crash she survived. Dream Girl-real name Priscilla Varner-inherits the trust fund, charity gets a lot of money, and the day is saved. 

The issue ends with Barry and Iris on a moonlight drive, where Mean Silver Age Iris tears down her boyfriend. “Tell me, Barry, don’t you feel ashamed sometimes to be so slow-moving and lazy when the Flash--” Barry cuts her off here: “Gosh, Iris! We can’t all be the Flash!” WHY. ARE. THESE TWO. DATING?

Stay tuned for part 4! 

[crystallinee-waters]

so, @xxgothchatonxx - i did it! i finished netflix/bbc dracula at last.

my feverish commentary beneath the cut because this is gonna be long. this was... an experience....

episode 2:

- lmao. *sigh* lmao. *sigh* - why are agatha & drac backsassing each other like an old couple? - this drac is such an edgelord (i know i say this a lot about dracula characters but honestly. sorry Myst) - do all draculas have old age kinks? (in that case, nice.) - of wallachia *chef’s kiss* - they really do believe the audience is incapable of figuring anything out by themselves? agatha and drac are playing a LITERAL chess game because they’re playing mental chess of trying to outsmart each other. Geddit, audience? - even hellsing alucard has better table manners. sorry but all the shots of him decimating the ship passengers were funny - the Agatha on the boat situation was completely whack but yes. queen. - dragatha rights? - i know that cross scene was supposed to be Emotional and Cathartic or whatever but im laughing so hard rn - so dracula can cross large bodies of water without his soil?? or am i missing something? - “fuck you that’s How!”

ep 3:

okay here we go..........

- am i watching a different show? - lucy?? ok lucy! you do you... - ok what is the point of this clubbing and sadboy drama? - the underwater coffin scene was so funny, who does that??? ‘oh cool dracula is here and he’s intact, lemme just check his teeth- *redacted screaming* we had no idea he would bite :( - “why have you given me a toilet :/” claes bang is a comedian indeed - roast him agath- dr. helsing!! - “you’d choke on my blood” it’s the van helsing girlboss dna - “you’re not supposed to be online!” im reeling. - “WHO GAVE HIM THE WI-FI PASSWORD” im screaming - dracula writes vaguely threatening e-mails to his subjects now. what a concept. - this is a different show than ep1 & ep2. - “im a gourmet nOt a gLuTtON” yeah sure you are, Drac-nibal. - im sorry but the horror doesn’t work anymore! you guys decided this is a comedy!  - yes lucy call him out. he’s talking shit for sure. - so drac meets a typical horny, emotionally repressed millennial with a yolo-attitude and gets fascinated. - also seriously lucy what did you think was going to happen when you let dracula bite you? aside from getting a plethora of centuries-old STDs and unwanted pregnancy (i mean, ep1...) ?? 

- i’ll say it again, despite the insane premise and story going on here, claes comedic timing is good - i’m laughing so hard there are legit tears in my eyes. maybe it’s my irl fever but the whole situation of lucy seeing her own selfie is sending me. what. even. - i cant fucking breathe  when she pulls away the curtain! the drama - dracula face down on the floor screaming and i cant stop laughnig - lucy wasn’t in love with death she was an unhappy millennial who would have grown out of that mindset eventually with the right kind of support system. jeez. - dragatha is canon??? since agatha has possessed zoe now?? or drazoe? drazogatha - are we doing a threesome?

okay so my thoughts about the ending: as much as i love the idea of a vampire finding sunlight beautiful in the end and even choosing to die in it, this was not the way to go because his ““redemption”“ happened so quickly??? or am i missing something. it made no sense for him to be persuaded by a quick speech about being ashamed. he’s dracula. but i know you’re more invested in this than me so maybe i actually am missing something! it’s been months since i watched ep 1-2. ep 1-2 was so disconnected from ep 3? like episode 1 was enjoyable to watch but this felt like a fever dream to be honest. “after all this time, did you think i’d let it hurt” is a beautiful line that i will steal for another ship (i think you know which) but it made no sense here??? what even was this ending??????? ? ? ? ?

A+ for comedy. rip lucy.

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

Dreams of Indigo (C.4)

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinso x Non Binary Reader (can be read as Male Reader)

Word Count: 964

Warnings: Use of He/They pronouns, lots of swearing, mentions of bullies, angst? edginess (i hope not) cursing, failure, stupidity, various attempted crimes, bashing of the government. NOT PROOFREAD SO LEMME KNOW ANY GLARING MISTAKES PLEASE

Storyline: Reader is a teenage vigilante basically. Unlike the main characters Y/N doesn’t attend UA and somehow seems to keep finding themself in the company of the LOV but they’re not a villain. Call him a vigilante or an anti-hero whatever, just don’t call them a villain.

A/N: Honestly this is just a fun chapter. I felt like it's been too long since I last posted and this is to compensate. I'll probably try to actually release something again soon. Hopefully. Anyway all events in this chapter are 100% canonical for the storyline but it's told in an informal way that doesn't match the rest of the book.

Shoot me any questions, my inbox is open to anything but requests as of now. This is cross posted on wattpad (@that-bi-bitch-writes) and Quotev (@DumbEnbyJuice)

Last // Next

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Chapter Four: IDK weird POV with reader as narrator? Just imagine yourself saying this

“I heard a rumor

I heard a rumor 

I heard a rumor

I heard a rumor"

This is me Y/N L/N talking my problems out to myself because no one will understand what I’m saying like I will. I’m coping with my lack of close friends by talking to myself. and I don’t have therapy until next week.

Okay. So.

If you’re going to use your powers for evil make sure they’re working first. Don’t commit crimes with faulty powers that’s just embarrassing.

Period End of Story. 

I guess that could go for heroes too, whatever floats your boat. Anyway, don’t create second hand embarrassment for anyone, ever. That especially includes using your quirk to fight off a villain or rob a convenience store or even try to beat up bullies WITHOUT MAKING SURE IT WORKS FIRST. 

The whole reason I’ve been telling a lot of rumors lately is because I want to get the hang of my quirk.  I don’t really understand the laws about using your quirk in public but that’s kind of okay, the government is pretty incompetent and I occasionally dabble in dumb bitch juice. I just can’t get caught. I do however understand that had I not practiced using my powers illegally, I would have a lot more problems on my hands than second hand embarrassment.

All those examples I gave happened in real life just in reverse order. Luckily for me I got through it all with a few scrapes and minor damage to my pride.

First I tried to stop some bullies.

I do not like bullies. (that should be obvious by the whole, me getting bullied and retaliating unlocking my super handy but also potentially dangerous quirk.) 

A hazard of my quirk surprise surprise, is that it’s extremely seductive and I’ve started to fall in love with telling rumors. So, I decided I needed to learn how to tell rumors without, y’know. rumoring people. My quirk can get out of hand when I’m emotional, so the rumors can either become more violent and/or destructive, or not work at all. So I had to practice keeping it all under control and who better to be my test subjects than bullies?

Well it didn’t go spectacular because, drumroll please I overestimated myself and my quirk wouldn’t work. Not because I was emotional, but because of quirk exhaustion. Luckily for me no one really knew how my quirk works. So I showed up to the bullies and teasingly said

“I heard a rumor~” and they all tensed. They looked at me pleadingly and I dismissed them cackling as they fled the scene.

I was still really embarrassed. In fact by saying any of this out loud I may spontaneously combust

The whole convenience store thing I wouldn’t exactly call robbing. It was a chain store like 7/11 and they were RIDICULOUSLY overpriced. And I needed something to cheer me up after striking out with my powers. So when I got to the register I told the cashier I heard a rumor that there was a special sale and everything was half off, for me at least. 

I was laughed at which was really embarrassing but I figured I could use my frustration and shame to give a boost to my powers and they’d work this time. So I started to repeat myself but was interrupted by a “yare yare daze” from some big dude waiting in line in a high school? uniform.

I am not ashamed to say I was intimidated into paying 1600 yen for 3 items.

They say third time is the charm. But coincidentally after the third strike you’re out.

I was so hoping for the first one.

I was literally just minding my own business on my way home after the unfortunate events of my supposedly op quirk failing me twice in the span of 3 days when a common criminal, (can you believe?) tried to mug me. He had an insect quirk and basically told me to hand over all my money or he’d release his army of creepy crawlies to liberate me of my last yen (hooray for bugs crawling on your skin and robbing you. So cool). 

Honestly by this point I was so fed up with the world I’d honestly hoped it would realize it fucking owed me after making me think I was quirkless for 10 out of 13 (nearly 14) years of my life and now screwing me over with the very quirk I’d gained in what could be called a traumatic event. 

But no luck for me, because honestly I heard a rumor that no one uttered. 

Get it? Because I came up with the rumor myself and no one actually-

Anyway my quirk didn’t work on the villain but luckily I had street smarts. I threw my wallet in the other direction and when he looked to it I contemplated running. But I was really angry at the world. So with all the might a 13 year old could muster. I decked him. And when he was down I hit him again for good measure before running after my wallet and heading home. Luckily for me the bugs vanished into thin air as soon as he hit the ground.

I learned a very valuable lesson. You’d think I would say something sappy like “don’t overuse your quirk” or “stop trying to commit crimes” (assault is unfortunately a crime even against assholes) But really all I learned is pick and choose your battles. Oh and learn the signs of quirk overuse.

Anyway I plan on using my quirk unnecessarily and very frequently so I maximize the amount of time I can use it before exhaustion sets in. It’s honestly an irresponsible plan that will ultimately yield positive results and as a young and budding teen I’m all for it.

[anneimaginesundertale]

Flufftober Day 3

Chip on My Shoulder - MT Papyrus/Reader

Summary: You are busting your butt to get through law school, but there's a skeleton monster who always seems to be competing with you. As you study for finals you run into him again and finally confront him about your rivalry.

Notes: This chapter was definitely inspired by Legally Blonde the Musical (which is a sentence I never thought I'd type and a musical I never thought I'd like...) I've got no clue how law school works, but when I rolled Lucky for this one I knew it had to be set at law school.

This story is also set in the Best of All Timelines universe (the universe where my tumblr rp and stories are usually set, where all the skellies have ended up in a version of the UT timeline that is supposedly the happiest and best one there is). That's mostly because Lucky didn't go to law school in his own timeline. He's from Mobtale. He wouldn't have been allowed to go. But he can in the BoaT universe, so that's where I set things. That's why I used his nickname rather than his real name like I did for the previous two Papyri.

I really hope this story makes sense. I wrote it at 3 am. I'll probably reread it later and find things to go back and fix...

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Read it on AO3.

Read it here, below the cut.

You’d known that law school would be tough.  More than tough.  It was the kind of program where people had mental breakdowns, where people dropped out because they just couldn’t handle it.  You’d fought tooth and nail to get here: the last week of your second year.  You weren’t going to have a mental breakdown and you sure as hell weren’t going to drop out.  You just had to get through this last round of finals, pass at the top of your class, and you could get the internship that would secure you a full time job after graduation. You’d wanted this for so long and now, if you could just push through this last all nighter and pass that last final, you could get it.

Unless he showed up.

Lucky Osseus, the stuck up skeleton monster who was constantly trying to outdo you.  Where did he get off?  He was always prancing around in his fancy pinstripe suits, spouting legal jargon in his prissy voice (how did he always sound cheerful, even when he was talking about something horrible?) and always just a fraction of a point ahead or behind you.  He was so...so...Well, you couldn’t think of what he was right now.  It was 3:02 am and you’d been studying since 7 the night before.  Your brain was mush.  

With that thought, you leaned back in your chair and ran your hands over your face.  Definitely time to caffeinate again. You stood up.  The vending machine had been out of Mountain Dew the last time you’d check but...maybe there was one on a different floor you could try?  The library had to have more than one vending machine, right? Ever hopeful, you set out on your quest.

The library was kind of creepy this late at night.  No one was on duty at the desk.  The thick carpet muffled your footsteps, so the only sound was your own breath.  No, wait.  There was another sound. Someone was...coming down in the elevator?

You turned your head at the soft ping , only to see your skeletal nemesis stepping out of the sliding doors.  He jumped when he spotted you.

“Y/N?!” he said in that irritating voice. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think, genius?” you snapped.  “I’m studying.  We have a final tomorrow, remember?”

He actually looked a bit ashamed, rubbing the back of his skull.  “Ah, yes.  So we do.  I didn’t think anyone else would be here so late.”

“I need to pass this class,” you said shortly.  Maybe if you didn’t engage with him, he’d leave you alone.  You just wanted to get something with caffeine and get back to your books.

“Of course.  I’m sure you will.  Pass, I mean.  You’re very clever. But why are you down here instead of studying?”

“I need a drink,” you said.  Why wasn’t he leaving?  You turned away, heading for the stairs.  You weren’t too keen on elevators.  

A slight clicking told you he was following you.  You turned around again. Yep, there he was.  “What?” you snapped.

“Nothing!” he said, holding his hands up defensively.  “I just...Since you’re here too, I thought...maybe we could study together?  I learn better when I can bounce ideas off other people, but it’s a bit late to do that with my usual study partner.”

“I study better on my own,” you said. “Sorry.” Why would he want to study with you?  Did he want to show off?  Did he want to one up you even now?  God, he was frustrating!

“All right.”  How could he sound so sheepish?  “I’ll just, er, go back to my books then. Good luck tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you said. “You too.” You turned away again. This time he didn’t follow you.

It turned out there was a vending machine on the fourth floor that still had some Mountain Dew.  You bought two, just so you wouldn’t have to go back up, and made your way back down to your study room.  Someone was sitting at the study carrel just outside it.

“I see you got your prize!” Lucky said with that smug smile.  “I never understood why humans like those fizzy drinks.  They taste so chemical to me.”

You made a sort of noncommittal noise, just wanting to go into the room and get back to the books.

“Happy studying!” he said.  “I moved my things out here, so if you need help with anything, just poke your head out and ask.”

You nodded and walked into the study room without saying anything.  You wouldn’t ask him for help if he was the last person on earth. You sat down at your desk and set down your sodas.  Eager to get that sweet sweet caffeinated goodness, you twisted the cap of one of them.  The soda hissed and fizzed out through the cap.  You yelped as the neon yellow liquid began to drip onto your notebook.  “No, no, no!  Shit!”

The door burst open.  “What happened?” Lucky asked.  “Are you all right?”

You twisted the cap back on and set the bottle down as far from your things as possible, glaring at Lucky.  “I’m fine,” you snapped.  “My pop tried to explode, but I’m fine. You didn’t have to come in here.”

“I heard you shout,” he said.  He rubbed the back of his skull again. “I’m sorry.  Where I come from, someone shouting like that...it’s never good.”

He sounded so earnest, so concerned.  Before you could say anything, he pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket.  (Who the hell still carried a cloth handkerchief?) “Let me help you mop things up at least,” he said, “since I already busted in here.”

“You really don’t have to,” you started, but he was already wiping at the puddle.  

“At least it didn’t spill onto your laptop,” he said.  He stowed the damp kerchief back in his pocket again. “I’m afraid your notes may be lost, though.  I did try...”

You looked down at your notes.  He was right.  The soda had leaked through several pages and the ink had run and smudged until it was illegible. Lucky’s clean up attempt probably hadn’t helped.  

You felt all the anger and frustration you’d tried to hold back boil to the surface.  “You tried all right!” you shouted. “You tried to sabotage me!  You just wrecked all my notes!  I needed those!  If I fail tomorrow, it’ll be your fault!  Just like always!  You’re always trying to be better than me.”  You lowered your voice just slightly.  “I never thought you would stoop so low, though.What the hell do you have against me?”

“Nothing,” Lucky said, and you’d never heard his voice so quiet and sad.  You glared at him.  He raised his hands, just like before. “I mean it, Y/N.  I’ve got nothing against you.  I like you. You’re brilliant and determined.  I admire you. I’ve been trying to befriend you for the last two years. I think we could be great friends if we tried.”

You sat down in the chair in shock.  “What?”

He laughed. “Nyeh heh heh...I suppose I haven’t been very clear about things. I thought you could tell. I always tried to stay at your level so we could talk about things, work together.  I suppose it came off as trying to compete with you instead.”

“You could have said something!” you managed.

“I’ve tried to be friendly, but you always seemed to be in a bad mood. You always have a chip on your shoulder.”

You sighed. You suddenly felt all the sleep you’d missed catching up with you. “I’m sorry,” you said.  “I’ve been a real asshole, haven’t I?”

“Just a bit. But I forgive you.”  He smiled.  “If you like, I can get you my notes on that chapter.  You could copy them out again, and maybe you could quiz me on them while you’re at it? Only if you want to.”

Your first instinct was to say no, but you shoved that down.  He was trying to be nice.  He was genuinely trying to help you.  And you did need that information for your test tomorrow. “Sure,” you said.  “That’d be great.”

Lucky smiled so brightly and broadly that it was like he lit up from the inside.  “Excellent!” he said, clapping his hands together.  “I will go get my notes!  I’ll be right back!” He raced out the door.

Carefully, you picked up your Mountain Dew again and untwisted the cap, keeping it far away from your notes this time.  You took a big gulp of the soda.  You were going to need all the caffeine to get through this study session but maybe, just maybe, Lucky wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.

Notes:

Not the fluffiest fluff in the world, but I knew I wanted to write this kind of rivals to friends story for this one. I like to imagine that this is just the start of a beautiful friendship for Lucky and Y/N and that they could go from friends to lovers from here. I hope you liked it. :-)

[duskholland]

Hey! Just want to thank you for the space you created to talk about sex/virginity because is a subject i struggle a lot with and makes me really insecure and seeing other people who are on the same boat as me makes me feel less like an outcast! Specially because I'm the only one in my circle of friends who has never had sex or had any kind of romantic relationship (I'll always remember the day we were playing never have I ever and they would only talk about sex and I almost had a panic attack because I felt so ashamed and had to go cry in the bathroom and only one of them came to check on me)

of course! I am so happy that talking about this stuff has been helpful to people. I’ve really enjoyed the space we’ve made too :’)) I think if one thing is clear from the stuff we’ve talked about tonight, it’s that you are most definitely not an outcast or the exception when it comes to this. I’m so sorry that you had that experience with never have I ever, that must’ve been so hard :( I’m hoping that you’re feeling better about it all now and that you’ve found comfort in the chat tonight ! sending you a big hug <3

[writerrachelspangler]

A Hierarchy of Tops

What the actual hell, y’all? Nothing to see here, except Katherine Hepburn giving us all the look that makes our collective gay insides instantly clench up then immediately liquefy.  

What is that gut incinerating reaction? I can’t say for sure, but I have been thinking about it a lot, and I’m going to offer 3 possible suggestions:

Attraction (obviously). 

But there are many levels to attraction. There’s like a woman walks by and turns your head attraction, or A-list celebrity beautiful-person attraction, and then there’s THIS. This feeling I’m talking about goes so far beyond the “you’re attractive” sort of attraction to like “laws of physics” sort of attraction. The kind of attraction that registers not just inside your core but also psyche. 

It messes with my head in ways that have turned me around ever since I was old enough to be aware of such things, and I’ve come to sum it up as “The great queer question.”

Do I want to be with you, or do I want to be you?

It’s hard when you’re young (or even not so young) and you’re hungry for role models, but also thirsty for something else. And the whole issue gets complicated by the way those two feelings register in similar places of your body. The first time you see a woman step into full ownership of her God-given gift of giving zero fucks for conformity it lights a fire in the deepest regions of your gut. And as the warmth spreads outward from that low guttural place it can cause things to heat up in areas right below your core, too. You know the ones I mean, right? Those body parts are very close together, sometimes it’s hard to separate the two types of attraction. 

And I’ve made peace with that, the not always knowing which came first, or which takes precedent, because ultimately it doesn’t matter.  As fun as it can be (and by fun, I clearly mean disorienting) to try to figure out if I want to be with someone or be like someone, I am non-binary enough to realize the answer can be, and often is:

Attraction and aspiration are both cool, they’re both fluid, and they totally intersect. I’m comfortable with that. I’m more than comfortable with it. I dig it. 

So if there’s no great conflict around attraction, why should that photo of ole K. Hep and her butchly furrowed brow still make my tummy so. damn. squimbly? Could it be something deeper than attraction? Something more complex? Something more elemental? Something like...

Recognition. 

You see, over the last few years I’ve gotten into the concept of ancestral echoes, or the idea that memories and the knowledge that comes from them can be passed down through our DNA. That you can, on some level, know  about things you’ve never experienced for yourself, and you can recognize the same sort of knowledge in other people.

Example: Folks way back up my family tree were sea-faring explorers. It’s been like 15 generations and I am super susceptible to sea sickness, but I am still so drawn to boats and the ocean. Not just like I find them pretty, but like I’m freaking Moana or something.  There’s a pull there that goes beyond all reason and logic. I know that if I get on a sailboat there’s decent chance I am going to lose my lunch, but I can’t stay away.  Even as I go green in the gills and my stomach does summersaults a part of me is still like:

I feel the same inexplicable connection when I look at that picture of Katherine Hepburn. There is a gay DNA level kind of recognition. A big queer ancestral echo. Whatever part of me that makes me gay senses its mirror in her.

Now I don’t know what part of me that is, nor what part of her trips that recognition trigger for me. The insolent stare? The turn of the mouth? Those gay AF eyebrows? 

I’m not sure, but I feel certain it would exist even if I didn’t know the words gay or DNA. Something queer in me honors something queer in her. It’s inborn, liike gaydar on steroids boiled down to its most primal level. It runs through the generations on double helix rainbows. It vibrates across my chromosomes humming through the lowest, most animal regions of my brain. 

I know you. 

We are the same. Whatever this thing is, it builds an unbreakable bond. A shared ..something. Brotherhood is too gendered. Personhood too vague.  A queersterhood. A ... wait for it ... Listerhood?

You didn’t really think I’d make it through this gay ass therapy session without her did you?

Well I didn’t, because I can’t. I am physically incapable of looking away from this paragon of queer top perfection.  And while I get that this is exactly the point where I should be able to tie this post up neatly on some note about our  foremothers of the past living on through our legacy, that’s not going to happen.

As much as I would like to have some spiritual or academic conclusion for the things I feel when I see this, I don’t.

Nothing about my reaction is academic, or hypothetical or high minded. 

I’ve looked these photos it so many times, trying to figure out what is bigger than attraction and deeper than recognition, and there’s only one word that comes close to capturing the experience for me:

Reckoning.

Reckoning involves looking something in the eye and taking stock of it and you at the same time. It involves taking weight and measures, taking inventory of your totality, and checking receipts on the things both utterly unquantifiable and yet indisputable. 

And when I look at those women, I am forced to reckon with a fundamental truth:

They are better tops than me.

Katherine Hepburn is a better top than me.  Ann Lister (as played by Suranne Jones) is a better top than me.  There’s no way around it.

No matter how much I like to think I have some natural predication for topness, they have more. Clearly.

Sometimes you look at someone and you just know they know things. Things you are desperate to know. They possess a command and understanding you do not possess. They have skills you can only, and probably only ever will, aspire to.

I am not ashamed to admit it. It’s just the natural order of things. Did Joe DiMaggio feel shame at not being Babe Ruth? Or for you non-sportsball people, does Lizzo feel ashamed for not being Aretha Franklin? I hope not. There’s no shame in having your greatness fall just below that of divine master. Not everyone can be the GOAT. I’m okay with that. It’s not a competition. I don’t need to best anyone.

But I do need to make peace with that reckoning in other ways. Like a wolf who just met the new pack leader, or pirate captain whose ship just got overrun, there’s a new world older that must be acknowledged in those moments. There is a hierarchy of tops and topness, and it’s just been indisputably altered.

I am not the top top, not even in my own mind. I can’t ignore it, I am the one who acknowledged it in the first place. I could run from it. At least in theory. I could look away, close my eyes, or banish those understandings to vast reaches of the unfollowed internet, but I am not a coward. 

As fluid as I am, and as secure as I am in who I am, I can feel gratitude at the the opportunity to look upon greatness.  To indulge my awe. To relish my vast appreciation of the most transcendent of beings.  

And then, of course, as is only right, I feel compelled to roll over. Honestly, I don’t know how anyone could feel compelled to do anything other than roll over when they look at that picture.  That is the great tremble in my gut: it is all the scripts being flipped. 

Does that make me a lesser top? Maybe. Does that make me a bottom? Perhaps sometimes. Does that bother me?

Not at all.

Cause really, what’s the use of recognizing a hierarchy to tops, if you don’t intend to enjoy every possible aspect of your own position on that spectrum?

[ladygootgoot]

Do the next five prime numbers from my last ask for the Spotify thing when you get bored again.

okay so the prime numbers are  2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, 37, 41, 43, 47, 53, 59, 61, 67, 71, 73, 79, 83, 89, 97

I already did 2, 3, 5, 7, 11 and 13.

Love that I can just google the prime numbers.

17.  “Why you still talking 'bout me like we together?, I moved on for the better, You moved on to whoever”

Broken Clocks by SZA

19.  “Or would you love me more?, If you knew the person that I was, yeah yeah”

Love Me Less (feat. Quinn XCII) by MAX

23. “You the one, I wanna see you when I wake up”

Acid Dreams by MAX and Felly

29.  “I drive circles under street lights, Nothing seems to clear my mind, I can't forget”

Malibu Nights by LANY

31.  “She liked petty crimes, she had green eyes, like mountain dew, And where she go, I'll never know, Her friends bounced too”

Hell N Back by Bakar. I just really like the rhythm in this one. Plus I love the whistling.

37.  “Plans were drawn, and concrete poured, And nail by nail and board by board, Daddy gave life to mama's dream.” or “Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself.”

The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert. This song is only in the top bc it’s in my sleep playlist, but it is a great song that I recommend to everyone.

41.  “How do you know someone so well and then it changes?, All of a sudden you're strangers, Thinkin' back on us dancing, When you put your feet on top of mine on the living room floor, Well, tell me what was it for? Oh”

Remember by Liam Payne This is really the only song from Liam’s new album that I listened to more than once, but I love it. 

43.  “What if I had one more night for goodbye?, If you're not here to turn the lights off I can't sleep,These four walls and me”

These Four Walls by Little Mix. This song is also on my sleep playlist, but it is an underrated Little Mix song.

47. “I've got no money in my hands or my coat or my pocket, Wont get to space cos I haven't got a rocket” or “Yeah the boat may sink but I'm not gonna rock it, Cos the sea doesn't know my name” or “Not a lot to show but this book full of sonnets, And my liver may be fucked but my heart is honest”

Things That Stop You Dreaming by Passenger. Again, sleep playlist. It seems that every other song in this area is, and you decided to hit all of them.

53.  “I wanna be young and party”

Forever by FLETCHER

59.  “Now I'm a fat house cat, Cursing my sore blunt tongue”

Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Iron & Wine. LMAOOOOO this song is again on my sleep playlist. This is the only song so far that I am a little ashamed of.

61. “I'll never forget the news I got that morning, Wished that I could turn back but the plane was boarding”

Where Am I At by MAX

67.  “And if I have to choose, My heart or you, I'm gonna lose”

Hard Place by H.E.R.

I’m so shocked this song isn’t higher up in this playlist. The only reason I can think of is that I must have gotten into this song last year. I just know that this song was on repeat for awhile. I’ve introduced multiple people to this song.

71. “I want your number tattooed on my arm in ink, I swear”

 Nice To Meet Ya by Niall Horan

73.  “I'll be good all by myself, Yeah, I'll find a way to dance without you”

Break Up Song by Little Mix. This song is solely for the melody and the dance that they made for it.

 79.  “We'll hit the drive-thru, like Lil' Wayne, We ain't got no platinum chains, But hand-me-downs are all the rage (aye), So let me spend this pocket change”

Summer On You by PRETTYMUCH. This is teaching me i listen to a lot of artists that have their name in all caps.

 83. “Let's focus on communicatin'”

Location by Khalid

 89.  “Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga” and  “Lips are sweet as candy, It's taste stays on my mind” plus the chorus.

Hooked on a Feeling by  Björn Skifs, Blue Swede lol didn’t mean to add links, but i’m leaving them. this song is in multiple of my playlists, so it is a little surprising it’s not higher.

 97. “But everybody wants to put me down, They say I'm going crazy” or  “Got no feel, I got no rhythm, I just keep losing my beat” or  “One day (someday) I'm gonna be free, Lord! Find me somebody to love”

Somebody to Love by Queen

This has saved me so much boredom, so thank you.

[nctrenjunie]

Heatwaves~ Jaehyun!Doctor X Reader

Author: Sera

Genre: Smut

Comment: YES, finally after losing it I had to rewrite it all :(( I literally have to wake up in less than 2hours ughh. 

Request: I hope you´ll like it!!! <3

You felt kind of hypnotized by the bad feeling that followed you throughout the whole week now. The idea of overworking the past weeks so you can rest now, lingered now only as a regret in your head since catching a cold and having to move to your doctor wasn't really what you would like to call a relaxing break.

The pumping feeling of your headache drove you insane as you tried to cope with the intense lack of sleep that started to roll in now whilst you were waiting for your name to be called. Besides how weak you felt you were sure that you must have had a fever, judging by the big sweater you were wearing under the winter jacket that you usually only took out at the end of the year. And even tho you were packed in thousands of layers, the coldness of your body was also one of the symptoms under which you were suffering right now.

You tried to keep your eyelids open, looking around the room as you fixated your gaze on a boring graphic sketch of a boat, under pressing the loud coughs that you thought you cured earlier with the sweet anti cough syrup you swallowed before making your way a few blocks down to your doctors praxis. 

It seemed peaceful at first, just as if you were in the eye of an hurricane, the waves you were swimming in, trying to get somewhere or maybe to someone. The tranquil ciel waves changed abruptly into aggressive crimson blue ones, almost drowning you into the cold atmosphere as you tried to maintain yourself over water keeping your eyes out for any kind of salvation. It's so cold. You heard your name being called. Looking at the direction, a small boat fell into your sight. You couldn't really distinguish the face of the person on it until the boat neared you. You tried to concentrate, trying to find out who this familiar looking man with a still blurred face was whilst he already gripped your arms to pull you out of the water on the boat. The sky started to brighten again, the storm ending as the familiar stranger pulled you up. “Don't worry I'll keep you warm Y/N.”

“Y/N, Miss Y/N.”

You woke up, looking around the waiting room you must've fallen asleep in. The woman at the receptor called out your name again, getting no response until you abruptly stood up coughing out a small “yes”. Clearly trying to maintain her smile she accompanied you to the room, leaving you alone to wait for a doctor you knew all to good. You sat down on the medbed rubbing your hand over your upper arms to try and keep yourself as warm as you felt at the end of your small dream.

“ So, Miss Y/N. How are we feeling today?”

The silence that lived in the room died down as Doctor Jungs voice brought his bright voice to shine. Looking up you got greeted by his beautiful smile on the familiar face you haven't visited for long. Trying to speak up you coughed out two or three times before answering his questions.

“Why so formal Doctor Jung....”

You started to smile, trying to stay awake. Laughing out of nowhere. Jaehyun, who you've known since a long time joined in by your laughter until he looked at you worried, stopping as you started to cough out again. Taking a break you kept on talking.

“ I've got a headache. My throat hurts and I think I have fever...Jaehyun, I mean doctor give me something.”

“Didn't I tell you to take better care last time? You overwork yourself and then give me work to heal you again? Am I your dad or what?”

You looked at him through  your slightly opened eyes as he moved some things on the desk. The white rolled up sleeves of his medcoat left the perfect view of his veiny underarms, leading your eyes down to his beautiful perfect hands that were typing some things on the keyboard. You closed your eyes, seeing pitch black as you took another break before speaking up again.

“You can be if you...I mean, Im so sleepy, and so cold. Just give some pills and nose spray so I can go home and rest. At least there's warm; it's freezing cold in here.”

“Don't worry Y/N, I can keep you warm if you want.”

You fastly opened your eyes, noticing the deep voice against your ear. You looked into his eyes, now realizing that he was in fact, standing between your legs, one hand against the wall you were leaning on whilst sitting on the medbed. Jaehyuns eyes kept contact with yours as his hand creeped up your leg as same as the warm feeling in your body that you were longing for almost the whole week. No words were exchanged as Jaehyun moved his one hand from the wall to cup your right cheek as he pressed his soft hot lips against your cold ones. You closed your eyes, going in for the kiss deepening the make out session Jaehyun just started. His plump lips were moving slowly against yours, like waves, biting on your under lip sometimes or intertwining his tongue with yours whilst he pressed his thumb against your neck. The purposely hot breaths he left out between the steamy make out session left you craving for more as he filled you with new energy to waste on lust and pleasure. Whilst his mouth was working on heating you up his other hand went down, helping the other one that was already working on taking of all the layers of your body. 

Your winter jacket was the first one to go and then the big sweater that gave Jaehyun's lips the access to leave butterfly kisses on your neck. You panted out by every layer that went its way on the floor. The white medcoat he wore joined your clothes on the clean floor before jaehyun pulled you aggressively closer, putting one hand on your neck and the other one on your waist, embracing your body with his warm broad shoulders as you felt the outline of his abs against your already naked torso.

You moaned out, not keeping down the loud way you panted out his name as his right hand went down over your breast to your already heated pussy. You threw your head in your neck, giving his other hand better access to feel your pulse with two fingers that was pumping hectically against them, leaving him satisfied.

 He would love to see this from another perspective. Your closed eyes only opening themselves to roll back from the ecstasy whilst his one hand was working his magic on your neck. His lips muffling down your loud moans he wants to keep only for himself. His already throbbing out boner leaving a big bulge in his work pants while his other hand was already working magic deep inside of you, making you ready for what's to come. 

“Fuck, you love that right? Getting fingered on a medbed making everything wet? You're so dirty baby. Don't worry baby, im gonna make you feel even warmer. Right, you want that? You want to be fucked good to get back on track?”

Jaehyun kept teasing you, taking his fingers out of you to grope at your inner thigh, his lips speaking out dirty words whilst biting hard on your neck, making your roll back your eyes. He bobbed his hand two or three times over his already freed member before positioning it against your hole, waiting for your answer. You tried to form out an answer, feeling the tip of his dick already poking against your entrance.

“Jae..fuck yes please...please just fuck me and do your job.”

You gasped out, trying to scream out his name as he pumped into you, holding down your hips to keep you from moving. Insane pants were filling the room, your nails digging into his veiny under arms and his hand moving up into your hair, gripping it and moving your head to get a better access on your neck to leave love bites on it. 

“Fuck, fuck...don't stop jae, I'm almost there.”

Listening to your erotic words Jaehyun fastened the pace, fucking you into oblivion until waves of heat crashed over you as he came into you, joining you into the crimson blue ocean of sexual euphoria. Your almost closed eyes closed, leaving you to look into the pitch black nothing. 

The warm body that just kept you warm seemed to be disappeared as you woke up from your dream. Opening your eyes you were met by the bright clinical light and a half amused and half aroused Jaehyun, sitting on a chair before you. Noticing now that you must've fallen asleep you averted your ashamed gaze from his, hiding behind the big layers you were wearing.

“Well you felt so exhausted Y/N, you just fell asleep. I hope you had a good dream, at least it seemed like this.”

Jaehyun's chuckle didn't really hide the big smile that was plastered over his face as he made his way over to you.  Pulling down the fabric that you had covered your head with, he put his lips close to your ear, making you shiver shortly.

“Don't worry i'm gonna do my job and make sure you're kept warm.” 

[djjarins]

dark passenger

pairing: stenbrough warning: murder, breif mentions of past abuse and drug use summary: stanley uris has it all. a gorgeous boyfriend, a beautiful view of the atlantic, and his dream job of blood splatter analysist. he’s made a name for himself by helping to put away some of miami’s most deadly serial killers, but what his colleagues might never crack is that he is the most dangerous one of them all. a/n: the dexter! au is here!! let me know if you wanna be tagged!

"Please, please you don't have to do this!" A woman yells out, her cries falling on deaf ears throughout her large home.

Her husband left the night before for a business trip, leaving her alone for the weekend. The last thing she remembers was coming home from work and placing her purse down before the world went black.

She tries to pull against her restraints, to her what looked like plastic wrap, which tie around her chest, legs and lower stomach, binding her to her dining room table. A strap of plastic wrap keeps her head still on the table, only being able to use her eyes to look around her grand dining room.

Whoever was doing this to her covered her whole dining room in the plastic, leaving no inch uncovered.

The sound of heavy footsteps startles the woman, her heart rate accelerating as the figure gets closer.

"Please, I'll do anything! You don't have to do this to me!" She screams, hoping he has some sense of mercy.

"You see, I kind of have to do this," her attacker says firmly, moving to stand at the head of the table so he can look at her face to face.

The first thing she notices are his deep green eyes, which have no sense of life behind them. She shudders as he brings a small blade down and cuts her cheek, using a pipet he had in his other hand to extract some blood and place it on a glass slide.

"Why are you doing this?" She gasps, looking up at him helplessly as he stares back down at her, face devoid of any emotion.

He reaches down to the side table and grabs a handful of photos, flashing them to to the woman, who immediately shuts her eyes.

"Oh so now you're ashamed?" He asks, a few of his golden curls falling down in front of his eyes as he leans over her. "So you weren't ashamed when you killed these men?"

The woman tries shaking her head, only to be stopped by the plastic wrap. "I didn't do anything!" She yelps, tugging at the plastic binding her arms. Her attacker rolls his eyes, showing her the photos taken from the crime scene.

"Roy Beckett, Zach Mauzy, Carson Mckay, Sam Wyatt, you killed these men," he deadpans, flipping through each photo, causing the woman to wince, refusing to make eye contact with the man.

"You did this to them, you lured them in and killed them. You didn't care that they had families or that they had loved ones, you just took their lives away as if they were nothing."

A tear falls down the woman's cheek, mixing with the blood from her attacker's cut, causing a red trail to flow down onto the table. "Crying won't save you now, God knows it didn't save your victims."

The blonde reaches for the small table, ghosting his hand over his collection of weapons before settling for the large butcher's knife. The woman below lets out a deafening scream, only silenced by the wad of gauze being shoved inside her mouth.

"You won't get sympathy for me," he says plainly, playing with the blade in his hands. "I'm just like you, but I have standards."

Before the woman can process his words, the blonde violently jams the knife into her chest, a small, final gasp for air being forced out of her lungs as a pool of blood collects underneath the plastic wrap.

-

"Stanny!"

A young, brown-haired boy comes running full speed towards the blonde, his arms open wide, a toy truck still held in one hand.

Stanley gasps as he picks up the boy, swinging him around in a circle before settling him on his hip, holding him tight in his arms. "What did you bring me?"

Stan chuckles to himself. Alexander always wanted to know if there were presents.

"I brought you and your sister ice cream buddy!" He smiles, watching how the young boy's face lights up at the mention of his favorite treat. "Lia get in here, Stanny has ice cream!"

As if on cue, Alex's older sister Ophelia runs out of her room and straight into Stan, wrapping her small arms around his waist. She had come a long way since the first time they met, having shied away from her dad's new boyfriend, bad memories of the last one still etched into her memory.

"Alright kids, let's get you settled," Stan smiles, leading the two Denbrough children into the kitchen, settling them into seats at the kitchen counter before dishing up their ice cream. Chocolate with rainbow sprinkles for Ophelia and mint chocolate chip with chocolate sauce for Xander.

The blonde watches the kids for a few minutes, before excusing himself. He walks up the stairs, passing numerous family photos and pieces of art, before coming face to face with the master bedroom door, which was closed.

He knocks gently before peering inside, seeing his boyfriend of 6 months, Bill Denbrough, typing away at his computer.

He smiles to himself, noticing the way Bill pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he edits his latest chapter, his reading glasses perched upon his nose.

The brunette continues typing as Stan sits down next to him, finishing his edits on the second to last paragraph on the page before briskly closing his laptop and shoving it out of the way.

It takes less than 3 seconds for Bill to crawl into Stan's lap, their lips crashing together gently, with Stan's large hands moving to grip his lover's hips.

The pair remain entangled for a few moments before pulling away, with Bill leaning to rest his head on one of Stan's broad shoulders.

"How way your day?"

He could tell him the truth.

How the day started with an officer giving him shit for not getting a blood analysis into him exactly when he wanted it. The feelings inside of him of how quickly he could slice the officer up and clean it up as if it never happened.

He could explain how annoyed he was when his adopted brother, and officer, Eddie wouldn't stop complaining about his hatred of working VICE, how he deserved to be on homicide, how unfair it was that he was stuck in VICE just because the lieutenant "has it out for him."

Or how difficult it was to wait for the perfect time to kill his latest victim. How weeks of waiting and observing had driven him crazy. How hard it was to clean up her place and dispose of her body into the Atlantic, having to sneak out onto his small boat around 3 am with 3 black garbage bags, making sure to dump them far enough out and away from people.

But he couldn't do that.

"It was okay, just a lot going on at work," he breathes out, bringing a hand to run his fingers through Bill's brown locks.

It wasn't necessarily a lie. The precinct had seen a jump in gang-related activity within Miami in the past few months, with officers feeling pressure from the Captain to find the connections between different cases.

This pressure had also been felt by Stan, as one of the best blood analysts within the state, he was called to almost every crime scene to help officers understand the type of people they were up against. It all seemed so simple to him, but having to explain how these criminals used certain techniques to the average detective just gave him headaches.

"Well I know something that could help you," Bill starts, lifting his head off Stan's shoulder so he can lock eyes with him. "The sitter should be here in a few minutes, that will give us some time for ourselves," he says, pressing a few kisses to Stan's neck, causing the blonde to tense up a bit at the sudden affection and attention he was receiving.

It's not that he didn't enjoy this, hell he really enjoys it, but something about possibly having sex with your boyfriend after you have just murdered someone is not really what Stan was looking forward to.

Bill feels the hesitance in Stan, using his fingers to tilt Stan's head so he can look into his eyes, having not have noticed how the blonde ceased eye contact moments prior.

"Sorry if that was too much," Bill stammers, "We don't have to if you don't want to."

Stan nods softly, flashing his boyfriend a small smile, bringing hands up to cup his face. "Thank you baby, I just feel a bit tired, is it okay if we just lay here and maybe watch a movie?"

Bill smiles back, a look of utter happiness in his eyes.

"I'd love that."

- 

Eddie was the one that introduced Stan to Bill.

Just about a year ago, Eddie was the responding officer on a domestic assault call. He remembers rushing to the scene, a small white house in a residential neighborhood just within city limits.

He remembers making his way inside, seeing a coffee table flipped over, its prior contents spilled across the carpet. Chairs were knocked over, items askew and out of place.

He followed the trail of blood upstairs, coming face to face with the man who did this.

Other officers rushed passed him to cuff the man as he shouted extremities, forcing multiple officers to have to drag him out of the house and down to the station.

Eddie remembers opening the master bedroom door, seeing a young man, his face bruised and bleeding, his lip split and eye starting to swell, holding a young boy to his chest. A young girl next to them clenches the phone in her hands. She's the one who called him here.

"Are you here to help my daddy?" The young boy asks, peeking his head out from his father's chest with watery eyes.

Eddie remembers nodding his head, promising no one would ever hurt them again.

Eddie learned the man's name was Bill, and that the man forcibly dragged out of his home was his husband, Jacob Mills.

The pair had been together for a few years, being there for Bill after his long-time girlfriend, and mother of his children walked out on him.

Jacob was there for Bill every step of the way, helping him to raise his two beautiful children, who reminded him of their mother every day. He loved and supported Bill, but over time they began to fight.

At first, it was over small things, like forgetting to sign Ophelia's permission slip, or not being able to make it to a date night. But over time things got worse.

Things started to become physical after Jacob started using.

It started with smoking. Bill didn't mind at first, hell he smoked in high school and college, but he always made sure Jacob didn't bring it around the kids. But then weed and cigarettes escalated to drinking.

There were nights where Bill wouldn't know where Jacob was, or when or if he would be returning home.

When he did return, it was bad.

The first time, Bill waited up that night for him. Around 3 am he stumbled in, slamming the door closed, only to be startled by Bill turning on the kitchen light.

Bill told him that this was unacceptable, how he and the kids were worried sick, but Jacob was too far gone. He just brushed past Bill, muttering something about going to bed, but Bill kept going, telling him that he was scared for him, how he never answered his messages, how he-

SMACK

Next thing he knows, he is on the ground, clutching his now red cheek, with Jacob walking right upstairs and plopping right into bed.

It didn't happen again for a few months.

Jacob always insisted afterward that he was sorry, and that he would never do it again.

But it just kept happening.

The night Eddie was dispatched to the scene was the night Bill decided enough was enough. Jacob was out at the bar with some friends, so he knew he had time. He planned on packing his and the kid's things and getting out of town, probably with his parents, while he filed for a divorce.

He was just finished packing Ophelia's toys when Jacob got home.

The next thing he knew he was on the bedroom floor, with Eddie leaning over him, promising that he would keep them safe.

Eddie kept good on his promise, helping Bill find the right resources and people who could help him, recommending a therapist that Bill could work with to figure out how to plan out his next moves.

Bill was eternally grateful to Eddie for saving them, insisting that if he didn't receive that dispatch, he wasn't sure where he would be right now. The kids got attached to Eddie quite quickly, finding his demeanor quite calming and his jokes hilarious.

Bill and Eddie from then on had standing "lunch dates" where Eddie would check in on him and the kids, making sure that they were okay and if they needed any help.

It was on one of these "dates" that Eddie introduced Bill to Stan.

Eddie's car was in the shop for repairs, repairs that he insisted he do himself much to Stan's dismay, which ended up making the problem worse. This led to Stan becoming his brother's taxi, driving them both to and from work, and any other place they had to go.

Eddie had mentioned that he was going to check up on one of his old victims and that he needed a ride.

Stan agreed, driving the two of them to the small white house. Eddie had insisted that it would only take a few minutes, but after 30 minutes, Stan was getting a little frustrated. He gave it another ten minutes before he got out of his car angrily, slamming the driver's side door shut loudly.

I should be out getting my next victim, not here just sitting out in the middle of some neighborhood. I could be halfway done by now, what the hell am I doing just waiting for-

Just then, the front door had opened and Stan's eyes widened. Before him stood the most gorgeous man he had ever laid eyes on, his smile bringing an unfamiliar sense of warmth and comfort over the blonde.

God, he could look at his smile all day.

Eddie chuckled from his spot on the couch with Ophelia and Alexander, the younger of the two playing with an airplane toy, dragging it along Eddie's arm, claiming that it was the best runway for the plane.

Conversation between the pair came naturally, even out of earshot Eddie could tell something was up there. He swears he had never seen his brother talk to someone that easily and eagerly before.

It was about a week later when Eddie set them up. He told both of them separately that he wanted to go to dinner, arranging a sitter for Bill, and promising Stan that he would do some of his paperwork for him.

But when both men arrived at the restaurant to see no Eddie, they weren't disappointed.

-

The sound of Stan's phone woke him up a few hours later.

The tv was still playing softly, a re-run of a Law and Order episode he and Bill had seen at least 10 times playing as he picks up his phone.

"Stan its Eddie, you have to get down to the 7 Seas Motel right now, you need to see this."

Stan lets out a sigh and assures Eddie he will be there soon before hanging up. He places his phone back down on the bedside table and looks down at Bill, who is currently nestled into his side. He hates to leave, but work calls.

He carefully maneuvers his body as to not disturb the sleeping brunette, pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead before making his way downstairs and out the front door.

It's about a 15-minute drive to the motel.

Stan fidgets with his fingers as he waits at a stoplight, his mind wandering to the previous night.

He watches silently as the blood begins to accumulate underneath the plastic, sighing in relief. The first blow was always the hardest.

He makes quick work with his buzzsaw, making sure to make as little of a mess as possible. Even though he covered the room in the plastic, he still wanted things to be somewhat neat, even down to the cuts he makes.

When he's done, he feels a sense of relief wash over his body, his work finally being done.

Once on the scene, Stan pulls a pair of rubber gloves on from his bag, showing an officer his official badge so he can gain access to the scene.

Several motel guests and onlookers wait behind the yellow tape, craning their necks to try and look at the crime scene.

Voyeurs. Stan thinks to himself, walking a few feet before seeing Eddie leaning up against the doorway of one of the motel rooms. He's dressed in a pair of short, red athletic shorts, just like the ones he would wear when they were kids. 

He wears no top, which could be blamed on the Florida heat, or the fact that he's trying to fit in with the hookers he is working alongside with as an undercover. 

"It's one of the girls who works here," Eddie rushes out, pulling Stan into the small room. "I was asking around about her when some other girls noticed she was missing, but then she turned back up."

Stan notices the pain in his brother's voice. Working VICE is hard, you form connections with those around you, even if you aren't telling them who you really are.

"What sick son of a bitch gets off on cutting up people into pieces like this?"

If only he knew.

Stan shakes his head, promising to talk to Eddie later and telling him to stay safe before walking over to the taped off area around the pool.

A few officers are already in the drained pool, a few taking photographs of what sits at the end of the deep end. He makes his way down the stairs and over towards the end, seeing Richie and Ben already on scene.

"How's your brother doing Stan? Fitting in well with the other whores?" Richie teases, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

It's no secret that Richie has some sort of infatuation with Eddie. Whenever the smaller detective is brought up, Richie cannot help himself from cracking jokes or making remarks about getting with him. It mostly just annoys Stan, but Eddie knows how to stand his ground, but Stan swears sometimes Eddie blushes when Richie talks about him.

In this instance Stan ignores him, moving past the two detectives, feeling his blood run cold when he sees what the detectives have been looking at.

Lying before him is the body of the woman Eddie had mentioned, sectioned into several pieces across the tiled pool floor. But what shocks Stan is the lack of blood. No blood to be exact.

"We think the guy drained her blood before dumping her here," Ben says, "But what he did or is doing with the blood is what's throwing us for a loop."

Stan bends down to get a better look at the body. "These cuts are very precise," he states, "whoever did this has some sort of medical training or expertise to understand how to get clean cuts like this, with no hesitation marks."

Ben nods, taking a few notes on what Stan said before patting him on the back. "You can go since there's no blood we don't need you here."

Stan nods, standing back up and turning toward the black-haired forensic science investigator. "Let me know if you find anything Rich."

Richie nods, making a mental note to check by Eddie's room as Stan walks away.

Stan decides to head back to the station, where he can get a jump on finding his next target. He heads back under the crime tape and over towards his car when his phone starts ringing.

He pauses for a moment to look at the caller ID before picking up.

"Miss me already Denbrough?" He asks with a smile, getting into his car and placing his keys in and starting the engine.

"Stan you need to come here right now, the prison called, they let Jacob out due to overcrowding and he's here right now."

Stan doesn't miss the sense of panic in Bill's voice, and he speeds off before he can get a word out.

Looks like his next target already found him.

[xxmisty]

2009 to 2019

I see people everywhere talking about the decade gone by and making comparisons of 2009 to 2019; how things have changed in the last 10 years. Now i’m here to do the same, I find it impossible to express in words.

I don’t remember the last turn of the decade. I don’t remember 2009 into 2010, and that’s strange because I’ve always been one of those people who invested a lot of emotional connections into dates and milestones. I remember being overwhelmed with excitement about the change of decade from 1989 to 1990, and of course the millennium bullshit that we were subjected to for practically three years before the actual event. But I don’t remember 2009 into 2010.

There’s a reason for that. I was dead on the inside. Speaking as someone who was depressed from the age of 5 onwards, I had never been so unhappy and deeply depressed in every way. There were many, many reasons for that, too many to go into, but the turn of the year and the decade wasn’t something to celebrate. Then again, nothing really was.

But I went through the motions and spent my life pretending, just as I had done as far back as I could remember. And the first few years of the decade grew gradually worse and worse until I hit the lowest point at the start of November 2012. I’ve talked about that night multiple times; saved by the Homestuck notifier going off, throwing my faith into tumblr to keep me going. I held onto one thought: that if something as unimportant as a webcomic updating could still make me feel excitement then there was still something to hold onto. That maybe I wasn’t completely dead on the inside. 

Now i’m looking back and realising, that was right near the start of the decade. That was over seven years ago. Seven years?! 

Tumblr is responsible for pretty much everything, in some way or another. People have different experiences everywhere but my experience here has been life changing in only positive ways. I first joined when I got into homestuck. I loved watching the chaos unfold after every update and seeing what the community was saying. But the more I got into blogging here the more I learned about the world, and the more I learned about myself. 

Through tumblr I learned more about gender and sexuality than I probably would have ever encountered elsewhere. It was here that I started to finally look at the gender issues i’d been burying as far back as I could remember. It was here that I started to question whether I was asexual thanks to learning about the difference between sexual and romantic attraction. And it was thanks to tumblr that I had a word to explain the sudden awakening of my sex drive upon meeting the love of my life at the age of 33: demisexuality!

It was through tumblr that I learned to not only accept but to love my body. It was through tumblr that I stopped being ashamed of my fetish and to embrace and enjoy it instead. It was through tumblr that I made some amazing friends and fun mutuals. It was through tumblr that I became terrified of peanut butter after a certain traumatic morning!!!

But above and beyond everything, it was thanks to Tumblr that I met Lucy. And here, I run out of eloquence. Words can’t cover what she means to me. Words can’t express the love, the like, the lust, the friendship, the hilarity, the passion, the laughter, the intimacy, the closeness, the warmth, the way every single day I spend with her feels as though I’m finally where I belong. 

And it all started because I recalled a friend who used to bring marmite and lettuce sandwiches to college every day and posted about my distressing memory <3

I think, that November night, that was when I started applying the brakes to my old life. It took a while for them to slow things down... exactly 4 months, to be precise. I was treading water, struggling still, drowning, turning the ‘fake’ up to a hundred. I’d already spent a lifetime pretending. Pretending to be happy, to be normal, to be a straight, cis girl, to be what i was expected to be. I just had to turn that up a few notches. I poured my energy into tumblr, faked being happy and confident, pushed myself so far out of my comfort zone that I needed a map to get back to it. But luckily, with time, my comfort zone extended out to meet me halfway :)

3rd March 2013, the brakes finally pulled my old life to a halt. Three days later, the engine started and the journey towards a new one began, thanks to an ask about organising randoms ;)

The path to where I am now hasn’t been easy. Escaping years of abuse leaves lasting scars. But now i’m sitting at the end of a decade that changed everything and there’s something very important that I want to share.

It is never too late. Never. It doesn’t matter how many bad years are stacked up on one side of the scales, it is never too late to begin redressing the balance. Any day can be the day you decide to be true to yourself. Any day can be the day you embrace a part of yourself you've tried to keep hidden. Any day can be the day you escape. And, any day can be the day you meet someone who can change your life. A friend, a lover, a confidante, a colleague, a stranger, someone on the end of an anonymous message. Any day can be the day that everything can turn on its head and start again. You just need to make sure you’re still holding on when that day comes.

No life is perfect. It’s been a rough year with health, money and the boat flooding twice. But there’s a phrase that sums things up which I can’t help feeling i’ll eventually have placed beneath my skin with ink:

Even the very hardest of days now are a hundred times brighter than the very very best of days before.

There’s no comparison. 2019 wins, every time.

Thank you for being a part of this journey. Some of you i’ve followed on here from my very early days on tumblr, some of you i’ve only met in the last few months, but all of you help to make my dash a brighter place and put a smile on my face. Tumblr has its faults, but it’s the site that changed my life.

Goodbye 2019. Goodbye 2010s. 2020, be good to me. Be good to all of us. 

And a very, very happy new year everybody ♥️❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤