#maybe this time I’ll learn. doesn’t matter either way I guess.

[hagravenholm]

.

[webslingingslasher]

Could you write something kinda similar to what you wrote before? Like with insecure reader but it's like the opposite, maybe her not being intimate with Peter yet because guys usually dump her after they hook up with her?

iiiiiii, dunno about this one :(

It’s not like you're a virgin. 

If you were, it would make sense to be a little scared. Or maybe it was anxiety. 

However, Peter Parker was a good guy. He held your hand like it was his job, called when he said he would, he’s close to all your friends, even adapting some to his own group. He asked to kiss you the first time he did, not expecting it but hoping. He always paid for your dates, even when you try to strong arm him into not doing it. 

Peter was a good guy. A really, really good guy. 

So why do you hurt him time and time again when he tries to take it to another step?

You could see the confusion filtering through, he used to be good at hiding it but more and more the poker face is fading and you can read the real emotion. 

If you have sex with him, you could lose him. 

If you don’t have sex with him, you could lose him.  

You were set to lose no matter what. 

It was getting harder to say no, this time you had to force yourself to pull away and gasp for air. 

“Um- movie?” 

Peter closes his eyes against the pillow, he’s fighting the tightness in his jeans poorly. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Making out with Peter is really, really fun. Everything about Peter was fun, that’s why you don’t want to lose him. 

You don’t want to look back, he’s laying down and you’re sitting up trying to find a movie to hide the truth behind. 

Peter’s had enough on his end. 

“Uh, baby?” 

“Yes?” Don’t look back. 

He knows you’re not a virgin. 

“Can we talk?” 

“About?” You search for a movie harder. Don’t look back. 

Peter pauses, he’s not sure how to word it. 

“Do you… Are you… Is…” Frustrated, he huffs, “what would the next step in our relationship be?” He needs to know, do you both have different versions of the next step? He thought sex would be a no brainer, but it seems like you don’t want to do it with him. 

Sex. 

Sex would be the next step, you know that and so does he. But if you say it will he expect it? 

Don’t look back.

A nonchalant shrug, “sex, I guess.” 

He’s tired of looking at the back of your head.

“Can you look at me, please?” 

No. 

“Yeah,” you turn. 

Peter looks soft, almost sad. He’s always thought you were good at reading each other, he doesn’t know what you’re thinking. 

“Are we on different pages?” 

Your head tilts, “what do you mean?” 

His turn to sit up, “I’m ready to have sex and I thought you were too. But it feels like you always worm your way out of it, and that’s fine cause if you’re not ready then I’m not either.” 

Either, either, either. 

He’s in this with you. 

“Every time I’ve had sex they always leave after. I don’t want you to leave.” 

Peter rolls his eyes, “babe, I’ve got like, thirty shirts in your closet. I’m not going anywhere, and if never having sex is my only way to prove it, I’ll do it.” 

You raise your eyebrows, “really, you could go without sex forever?” 

He shrugs, “eh, I mean, I really like you, and sex is fun but you can’t miss what you don’t have. I don’t know what it would be like to have sex with you, but I know how much it feels to miss you.” 

Is this how love is supposed to feel? 

It’s getting really hard saying no, and if he says it, he means it. You’ve learned that by now. 

You check your phone, if he’s still here in the morning then he’s your forever. 

“Well, I also don’t know what sex feels like with you.” 

You move in closer, “but, I’d like to find out.” 

Peter’s eyes lit up, it’s not about getting to bone you, it’s about the trust you have for him. Even you can read his look that well. He leans in to kiss you, his words whispered against your lips. 

“I’ll make breakfast.” 

[caapsiizzereads]

I lvoe how a majority of the jamie tartt fic readers/writers are swifties, so i was wondering if you wanted to write a fic based on labyrinth? One of them has a tumultuous relationship with romance and doesn’t know how to react to a good partner and the possibility of falling in love again but ultimately ending up embracing it. Love your fics!

I ALWAYS want to write a fic based on a Taylor song. This one is for all of my self-sabotaging girlies. Also, anon, congrats and thank you for being my first request! Hope you like this🫶

You never bring the guys that you’re dating to your friend gatherings, but this is a special occasion. It’s your best friend’s boyfriend’s birthday this weekend, and he’s a huge Richmond fan, and you know you will get some major brownie points if you bring Jamie with you. Well, also, Erin insisted that you have to bring him “while he’s still here.”

God, this is embarrassing. You and Jamie met less than a month ago and have only been on a few dates.

“…You totally don’t have to–”

“No, no, sure! I’ll come! I love meeting fans,” he grins cockily.

“I regret this already,” you sigh.

—

“He seems nice,” Erin says when you get the chance to talk alone.

You shrug. “I guess he is.”

Jamie meets your eyes across the room and smiles at you.

“I think he really likes you,” she gives you a suggestive look.

You roll your eyes. “We’ve been, like, on three dates.”

“It leaves him with what, two more?” she jokes. She knows how it goes for you. You go out with a guy a few times, have a good time, and then dump him before it can turn into something else.

—

You’re on your way from the party when you notice Jamie sparing you careful glances, like he has something on his mind but second-guesses saying it.

“What?”

“I’ve been talking to Matt, and he, uh, mentioned a guy named Owen,” he starts cautiously. You sigh loudly. “You can totally tell me to fuck off, it’s none of my business…”

“It’s fine. You can ask if you want. It’s not like it’s a secret or anything.”

“So, what’s the story there?”

“We met when I was in my third year of uni, two years later, we got married, lived supposedly happily for three more years, until he cheated on me.” You say it all so casually, like you’re just reciting some story you’ve told many times before. “And then had the fucking audacity to say that I had changed too much. But what really happened was that I was making more money than him, and he couldn’t fucking deal with it.” Okay, now you sound petty. “Anyways, fuck him.” The resentful tone of your voice lets Jamie know that this was as much as you are willing to talk about it. You leave out the part where you really loved the guy, and you haven’t been in even a remotely committed relationship ever since.

—

You don’t really care much about Jamie knowing about your shitshow of a marriage, it’s not like it matters anyway. If anything, maybe he won’t be as surprised or disappointed when you inevitably cut him off. You like him: he’s cute, he’s funny, he’s pretty, and you enjoy your time together. You’ve never had any complaints about the quality of the time that you provide for your dates either, so by the end of the day, it’s a fair trade.

Except that Jamie doesn’t seem to get the hint at all. He keeps asking you out and somehow every time manages to make you say yes. He keeps finding new ways to make you laugh, keeps remembering all the little things he gets to learn about you, keeps finding his way into your embrace. It’s so easy to be around Jamie that your attempts to say no become more and more inauthentic.

So here you are, coming back from your seventh date in as many weeks. That’s the record amount of time you’ve kept a guy around in the past two years.

“The weather is nice, let’s take a walk,” you mock. “Let’s take a walk my ass!” You’re grumbling as you and Jamie make it inside your house soaking wet from the pouring rain outside.

“How was I supposed to know?!” He tries to defend himself.

“By the sound of the fucking thunder!” You throw a towel at him.

“I thought we were gonna make it in time!” He takes off his sweatshirt and starts drying himself. “You could’ve talked me out of it!”

“Oh, so that’s my fault?” You’re not really that mad, more like just annoyed, but if Jamie wants to argue, you can argue. He’s grinning at you. “The fuck are you smiling about?”

“I’m sorry!” He raises his hands defensively. “But you’re, like, really hot when you’re mad.”

This fucker. And he’s standing there half naked and wet. “Oh, you’re gonna regret saying this.” You close the distance between you and smash your lips on his.

You keep pushing him backwards until his knees meet the bed and he plops down on it, looking up at you with his eyes dazed. You take a second to appreciate the view, and it gives you this weird feeling inside.

Uh-oh, you’re fallin' in love

—

It’s all fine, all good. You have it under control. You are not catching feelings for Jamie Tartt.

Even when you do, and it scares the shit out of you.

Jamie has been a constant presence in your life for almost three months now. And he’s always so patient, and considerate, and attentive. He starts asking you more questions, wants to really get to know you, emotional baggage and everything, and it doesn’t seem to bother him one bit. He never asks of you anything more than you can give, never makes you feel like you’re too much or not enough.

You’re lying on your couch with Jamie on top of you, slotted between your legs with his head on your chest. You’re absent-mindedly running your fingers through his hair while you’re watching a movie. Predictably, forty minutes into the movie, he’s dead asleep. You know that he’s been very tired this season, with all the travel and extra matches and practices that playing in the Champions League requires. Honestly, you were surprised that he can make as much time for you as he does, considering all of that.

You let him stay like this, trying not to move your body too much, until the end credits roll and half of your body goes numb. You gently shake him awake, and he looks adorably sleepish. You tell him that you should move it to bed because it’s late anyway. He furrows his brows for a moment in surprise. He’s never stayed over like this before, only if you were having sex. He’s definitely not going to complain, though. He makes his way to your bedroom, and by the time you’re out of the shower, he’s already asleep again. Or at least half-asleep, because when you get in bed next to him, he still snuggles closer to you.

You lie awake for another hour.

In the morning, you wake up first and, quickly disentangling yourself from Jamie, get out of bed.

Jamie notices that you’re acting weird: your smile is tense and you keep looking away, but he doesn’t comment on it. Eventually, he gives you a goodbye kiss and leaves for practice. The moment you close the door behind him and he’s a safe distance away, you let out a loud groan.

Oh no, you’re fallin' in love again

—

You’ve been ignoring Jamie’s calls for two weeks now. There hasn’t been a single one in two days, though, so maybe he just finally gave up. You can’t help but feel a little bit disappointed, but what right do you have? It was your choice. You’ve been wrapped in your cynicism for so long that you no longer know how to just let yourself be happy again. You tell yourself that you’re better off, and probably so is Jamie.

Your doorbell rings, and when you open the door, you don't know whether you’re relieved or uneasy to see Jamie standing at your doorstep.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You don’t pick up your phone.”

“Yeah, I…” You don’t actually have any logical explanation for yourself.

“You don’t need to explain.” He collects himself. “I’ve been trying to give you space. But I think it’s becoming too much space for me.”

“Jamie–“

“No, wait. Let me say something. And if you still want me to leave, then I will.” The remorseful look on your face was probably enough of a giveaway of what you were about to say. Well, here goes nothing. You nod at him to continue. “I am in love with you. And I don’t care that you think you’re a mess or whatever. I mean, so am I, but you don’t seem to mind either. You’re fucking amazing. And I will tell you that every day, if you want. No, I will tell you that every day, whether you want it or not. Just let me stay.”

The following silent seconds might be the longest in Jamie’s life, but then you pull him in and kiss him breathless, and it was absolutely worth the wait.

You’ve been lying awake for a few minutes now, thinking back to the previous night. You’re facing away from Jamie, but chances are he’s still asleep, you still have time to flee. You don’t want to, though.

As if reading your thoughts, Jamie speaks up. “I know you’re awake.” Here goes your escape plan. He softly runs his fingers along your back. “Stay with me.” He places a kiss between your shoulder blades. “Please.”

You take a deep breath and turn to face him. You’ve seen Jamie in the morning many times, but it was never like this. He’s never looked so vulnerable and unsure. You don’t want him to look like this. You gently brush your fingers against his cheek, and he leans into your hand before taking it in his and kissing your knuckles.

It’s been so long since you’ve really felt something for the person next to you, since you’ve let yourself feel something for the person next to you. You forgot how nice it is, how good it feels. That it doesn’t always have to end in hurt. Maybe if Jamie can offer you his heart like this, then you can trust him with yours too. You want to. This realization feels like letting out a breath you have been holding for years.

“Where would I go? We’re in my bed,” you smile, and Jamie huffs a laugh of relief. Alright, then, let’s give it a shot. You lean in and kiss him.

Oh, you’re fallin' in love

[deepdonutkid]

Peeta’s and Katniss’ roles reversed Part 2

(Well, yes, that topic is still very much on my mind and I want to start writing this soon)

So... if Peeta’s and Katniss’ roles were reversed in Mockingjay and Peeta is the one who gets rescued from the arena and not Katniss, another thing I can’t stop thinking about is who is he stuck with in D13.

No matter who got saved or not from the arena, the Capitol would still taking it out on D12 to set an example and to punish the star-crossed lovers. Gale would still see the warning signs and start evacuating people. Still a lot of people would not react fast enough and therefore be left in D12, when the bombing starts. Peeta’s family would be among them and therefore be dead.

There he is, alive and somehow well, in D13. His family is gone, Katniss is in the Capitol and he is stuck with... sober Haymitch, crying Finnick and... raging Gale. Well, of course, there would be Prim, Mrs. Everdeen and Delly, but let’s focus on the male characters first.

Peeta, very much like Katniss, would definitely attack Haymitch, just not physically like she did, more like with words filled with spite and rage. “You promised me to safe her! You owed me this!” Uhm, and that’s still on the nicer end of things he would say to Haymitch. So, I’ll guess, they won’t be spending much time together at first in D13.

Finnick is still devastated about losing Annie, but Peeta can so hardcore relate to what Finnick is feeling and what he is going through, they would quickly become friends. Maybe even getting a room together, while Katniss and Annie are still in the Capitol. (Similar to Johanna and Katniss) They would be tying knots together and console each other during their breakdowns.

But because Peeta is approached by Coin to be the face of the revolution, it’s safe to say, at this point, Katniss is the only thing, he lives for. If she hadn’t saved him in the first Hunger Games and then was left behind in the Quell, he would not be standing here. He knows that. And we all read how tough he was, when it came to protecting her before the Quell, while she was still there. Just imagine him going absolutely feral and becoming a bad-ass motherfucker, while still remaining a good and decent person. (And yes, I very much believe this is possible, just say one word and I will elaborate the shit out of this one)

Therefore Peeta is forced to leave Finnick be Finnick for a while and start doing something to get Katniss and Annie back. (And Johanna and the other remaining Victors). And guess who is the most concerned about Katniss’ rescue and is also in a more important position in the rebellion?

Right, it’s Gale. And they would fight a lot. I mean, Katniss already picked every possible fight with Gale, and they were best friends at that time. I guess with Peeta it would have been similar or worse.

Gale would act very childish and bitter, because he saw the Quell, right? The beach scene, the goodbye kiss... Uhm, he is going to be jealous. Even if he doesn’t want to let it out on Peeta, he still has all that pent up anger with no way to go. (other than planning to kill civilians, lmao)

And Peeta on the other and could not leave some thing unsaid. Not about Katniss, actually, everybody knows his stance on this topic, but Peeta would be disgusted beyond compare, when learning about Gale’s war pinterest board with Beetee.

However, they both have the same goal in mind, so they would find a way to work together, even though it might take a while, since both have very different approaches handling stressful situations. They wouldn’t hate each other, but they are not going to become friends either.

[hcneygemini]

sentence starters from my wip fics, pt. I

please do not add to this list nor repost the list as your own. tw: mentions of murder + attempted murder.

I just fell for that, didn’t I?

Is it because you like me so much?

I bet you regret this now.

Your heart’s pounding.

You’re too empty headed to know much of anything.

Oh, come on! I know something about seduction.

I know you’ve never heard of it, but some people have friends.

I don’t wanna hang out with the dork gang, though. Just you.

Yeah, well I’m an asshole, so we’re even.

I couldn’t sleep because you weren’t there.

Is that your way of flirting?

You’ve never gone to these lengths before.

You can be a real smart ass sometimes, you know?

I wanna see a different side of you today.

You made one mistake though—you didn't disarm me.

Kiss me.

You’re definitely not boring.

What are you thinking about?

We have to learn to confront it at some point.

Can you wait to kill me until I finish breakfast?

What’s the matter? Jealous?

I’ve never been more serious in my life.

[ Name ] won’t shut up about you.

Stop pretending to be mad.

It’s part of my evil plan.

I’m not repeating anything [ name ] told me in confidence.

You shouldn’t be so vulgar.

We both know we’re not a couple.

You can’t keep just walking away.

Stop being corny, I’m tired.

You look peaceful when you sleep.

I don’t think you think I’m serious. But I’m always serious!

I didn’t go looking for this.

I don’t like trusting people.

Please keep your feet off of my desk.

Wow, you’re so stoic and unafraid of threats!

How much of anything was real?

Was this the truth you wanted?

Past me had shitty taste.

You're so much more than that.

So, we were lied to.

This is really pathetic, you know.

Why should I go anywhere with you?

I have some ideas, but you have to trust me.

I see your cruelty's still intact.

Shit, you're really pale.

Would you stop trying to leech off of the traumatized children?

I don't have time to detail the extent of my work to you.

Why can’t you just talk to me like a normal person?

Yeah, well, I can deal with my shit myself.

Isn’t everyone so much happier without me around, stirring the pot?

I’m tired. Can your love confession wait until tomorrow?

No good deeds go unpunished, or whatever.

I got two people killed… er, technically maybe three.

Tell me another one of your preachy, boring life lessons!

Careful, I can hear the cogs turning in your head from here.

No one here is ‘okay.’

You didn’t have to come, you know.

We both know what I did.

Don’t give me some shit about ‘finding yourself’ and ‘healing.'

Hey, don’t think of it as bribing! Think of it as… a reward for putting my best foot forward.

Jeez, am I the only topic of the rumor mill?

You fell asleep on me.

I guess movie night is a good sedative.

I think I did something. Something bad.

Why do you have to make a joke out of everything?

You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.

Why were you so out of it last night?

You know, they’re not so bad if you would just get to know them.

Hey, where the fuck have you been?

Why would I forgive someone who tried to kill me?

Well, shit happens!

You’re either plotting to kill me in my sleep or you’re in love with me.

Are you asking me to stargaze with you?

Life doesn’t need to have some big meaning, I guess. I mean, I’m happy right now.

I come with tidings!

It's a cake that says, 'Sorry for trying to have you murdered!'

I can’t trust your big mouth.

What do you do when you disappear during the day?

I’ve never exactly been in a relationship.

At least take me out before talking about commitment.

Why do you spend time with me?

I’m learning more about you. The real you. And I… like [ them / her / him ].

Wow, you’re lame as shit.

Wait, so you’re seducing me by accident?

You two really like each other, huh?

Wow, your voice is so sexy in the morning.

[l-michalska-writer]

bookplots for the book i'm writing / pt.4

Don’t you understand? Only you decide what breaks you.

I wish I knew how to hold you.

You say you don’t know who I am anymore and the truth is, I don’t either.

Though none of it makes sense, I still end up loving you.

Just tell me what it is that you want.

How the hell did I end up losing you again?

Let us be over with it.

There was a time when you made my demons disappear.

I lost myself. Cause you weren’t there to help me.

I still love you. Even though I know it’s wrong.

I didn’t tell you all my secrets just to pour my heart out, believe me.

When you’re not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives.

Well, you look like yourself but you’re somebody else.

Well you talk like yourself but I hear someone else.

Now you’re making me nervous.

I know you’re only gonna break my heart all over again.

I don’t know why I even bother.

You say you’re fine but I know you’re not.

I’ll show you I’m the right guy to figure you out.

I’ve known you forever, I’ve figured you out.

I said I’d find a way to never lose you but it turns out I was wrong.

Here I am, just broken and confused.

You’ve won, okay? Now leave me alone.

I think you broke me though you didn’t mean to.

Fooling myself that I’ll never love again…

I know you love me. But maybe you’re just not enough.

You don’t look at me the way you used to.

Oh, my God, am I enough?

I wanna be what you want.

When did you forget about us?

Not to self diagnose, but something’s wrong.

You broke me, but I still love you.

We were never allowed to be just kids. Though we tried to.

Why can’t I hate you?

Not together, but connected.

We were never allowed to dream.

Don’t you already know how it hurts to love me?

Say the words I never told you.

As I watch you fade away…

I wish I knew how to hold you.

You took it too far.

She’s just a stupid girl with too big dreams.

I’m never gonna give my heart away. I already made that mistake.

Broken heart is all that’s left.

You’ve been on my mind, girl, like a drug.

Yes, I lost myself without you. Is that what you wanted to hear?

I wish I knew how to love you.

Is it too late to turn around?

I don’t feel like I’m yours anymore. And I used to love that feeling.

Looking back, I guess I should’ve seen it coming.

Love me with your worst intentions.

Hit me with the worst you got.

Is it too late to apologize?

You didn’t think to mention it to me?!

Back to the days when the days were better.

From now on, it’s you and me.

All of what I came through just made bulletproof.

You did what you did, now live with it.

And there is no us anymore.

There was a time I would take a bullet for you.

Why do we keep coming back for more pain?

I never learned to use my shallow heart.

And there is no mistaking, the love is gone.

You’re driving me crazy.

Do you even need anyone? Do you need ME?

You’re all I’ll ever need.

I hope you give me just one more chance to make you mine.

I should have known you’d never put me first.

I’ve been told to get you off my mind.

And I just wonder what it’d take to make you stay.

I guess all of the mountains that I moved just weren’t enough.

I’m not ready to be just another one of your mistakes.

I got nothing but you on my mind.

If we go down, then we go down together.

I’m tired of staying up all night with you on my mind.

Baby love me now or never.

I’m bad at love but you can’t blame me for trying.

You’re bad at love.

I’m afraid you’re gonna walk away.

Empty promises were made…

What was it all for?

What have you ever done for me?

I would break my heart again for you.

If you wanna come in, leave your feelings by the door.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

Keep your promises.

You better keep your promises.

[detailtilted]

Thank you!! (To the rebloggers of the CHICON 2007 J2 Breakfast Video)

I’m not sure of the proper Tumblr-ish way to thank all of you who recently reblogged my post, so please let me know if I’m violating some sort of etiquette or doing things in a weird/awkward way.  I tried to put this in a comment on my original post, but I was too wordy!

I wanted to give a big “thank you”, though!  I was kind of thinking this project was just going to fade into obscurity, so I was really happy and surprised to find several notifications when I woke up this morning.  It was so encouraging to see the interest, and I’ve appreciated your comments both in the tags and in the reblog texts, as well as just the fact that you thought it worth reblogging.

The day I posted the Breakfast video, I started on the main Jensen/Jared/J2 panels from the same CHICON 2007 convention.  I figured if nothing else, even if no one else was interested, I’d want to have a complete set.  That will likely be the next thing you see from me, but I’m very slow, especially now that vacation is over, so my output speed won’t be impressive.  I do hope to get faster with practice.

The Breakfast video was my first time ever doing any video editing, not counting one very short and very pathetic attempt a few months ago with free software.  When I did this one, I purchased some proper software and I’ve been learning both the new software and video editing concepts as I go. I'm more of a words person than anything else, so this is way outside my wheelhouse, but it's something I'd been thinking about a lot lately and I thought I'd give it a try. If nothing else, it's fun to learn a new skill. I've found it to be surprisingly absorbing. The skip-meals-because-I-don't-want-to-stop-what-I'm-doing kind of absorbing.

If I do more, my intent was to progress through the cons by date starting from the oldest.  However, I’ve found that some footage is just such poor quality that the upscale process I’m using doesn’t work on it no matter what combination of settings I try.  I could still edit the original videos together as-is and then add subtitles and additional content like what I added here, but I guess people would be less interested if the video quality is too bad.  So I figured I'd skip over the ones I couldn't get a good set of upscaled videos for and focus on the ones where I felt like I could get a tolerable video quality.  Maybe someday either the technology or my skills will improve and I can go back to the ones I skip, or maybe someone else in our fandom with more skill in this area will be able to accomplish more.

(@kerkhofbloemen, unfortunately, it looks like most of the L.A. 2008 footage falls in that category, but I only experimented with a couple of the main videos briefly a few days ago.  I’ll put some more effort into it after I finish CHICON 2007 before I completely write it off as being beyond my current abilities.) 

Editing in the extra content has been the most fun part of the process for me.  So many of their cultural references go completely over my head, because I guess I live under a rock!  I had a moment of pure glee when I Googled “Montgomery” to try to figure out what Jensen was talking about when he picked his mic stand up. I immediately saw that Montgomery Gentry photo and burst out laughing because it all finally made sense!

Thank you very much @blue-chimera @sensitivehandsomeactionman @afacefromamoviescene @soulmates-for-real, @winchestersbaby067 @arwenadreamer @takikojou @kerkhofbloemen @stoneyggirl2 @unepetitefrancaise @jensenbeingjensen !

(I hope I didn’t miss anyone!  If I did, it definitely wasn’t intentional.  The reblog count on my post shows 12, but I only saw 11 names.)

[punkranger]

The wild hunt for the Jacket

Post-crash. Antoine is trying to patch up some of the damage it caused, but that requires reaching out and learning to rely on others.

1500 words, some chargestep, banter with Nehal, nothing to warn for

…beep…

…beep…

…beep-click

“Yes?”

Not much to go on, but Ortega doesn’t usually take this long to answer your calls – although you can’t really be sure of that since you don’t usually call him. Either way you can’t help wincing a little.

“It’s me.” You hesitate slightly, Ortega just hums in reply. Better get right to it then. “Ortega, what happened to my jacket?”

“Your…? Your jacket?” At least you’ve managed to make him sound confused instead. Better than the alternative.

“Yes, I want it back. Unless you were planning to keep it hostage in exchange for my good behavior or something.”

“Antoine…” You’re not sure what that tone is but you think it might be frustration. But mostly other things, things you don't want to think about. “There was hardly anything to keep, I think the staff at the hospital threw it away.”

“They threw it away?!” Your voice rises in something far too close to desperation. It’s not like you couldn’t get a new jacket, or like you’re really attached to that one, but… “You just let them throw away my clothes? My possessions?”

The anger is unexpected – too much. It shouldn’t matter, they’re just things. But they were your things, once again other people are making decisions for you, taking things you own and throwing them away like they don’t matter, like you don’t matter-

“Antoine?”

You bite the inside of your cheek hard to keep from cursing at him. Concentrating on your breathing you manage to calm down enough to trust that the anger won’t bleed through.

“Could you- could you ask after it?” You pause. “Please?”

It’s a stupid risk, going back to remind the people who worked at the hospital that they operated on a re-gene. Whether they knew it or not doesn’t matter, when they find out and start asking questions it’ll be another trail leading back to you eventually.

You can’t bring yourself to care.

It’s been weeks and being stuck in bed for this long has been driving you insane. Besides you want your fucking jacket back, it’s your favorite one, despite being old and worn and a particularly ugly shade of orange. But it’s yours and more of a home to you than the apartment you’re currently in.

“I’ll ask, but,” Ortega pauses, sounding weary before his voice hardens, “we need to talk.”

“You know I can’t go anywhere right now.”

“I’ll come to you.”

“No.” Even if Ortega knows everything now you don’t need him snooping around your base, you’ve got enough of a disadvantage already as it is. “And when you find my jacket I’ll send one of my friends to get it.”

“So you don’t count me as a friend?” The tone is slightly teasing, but you have to consciously ignore the brittleness that’s laced in it.

“Don’t be stupid, I’ve never let you know where I live and for good reason.”

“I don’t see why that can’t change now.” Now that he knows.

“Can’t you let me have one fucking thing? Just arrest me next time and have it done with.” You know you’re being unreasonable, but Ortega is as always picking at your sore spots. In this case a few weeks have not been nearly enough to let you forget about the fact that you almost lost everything.

“I guess I’ll have to hold your jacket hostage until you get well enough to get it yourself then.” The words are light, but his tone is serious. Shit.

“Can only do that if you actually have the jacket. Maybe I’ll just ask someone else to look for it since you’re so unhelpful.” Does it sound like you’re pouting? Hopefully not, but the truth is you were counting on Ortega’s help. And maybe you wanted to see if he actually would. Help you. Talk to you.

Maybe you missed him.

“Guess we’ll just have to see who finds it first.”

You smile.

“You're on, old man."

"Hey-!"

You hang up before he can start ranting about not being old. After all, you don't have a minute to spare right now. You need to send someone to look for your jacket before Ortega finds it, not that you care if you have to wait, but you're not losing a bet. That's all.

Picking up your phone you decide to call Nehal. She's the one with the least criminal involvement in the past, so she's the least likely to be recognised.

"Nehal, I need you to pick up something for me. And find it."

"Sure thing boss, what is it, missing your favorite cereal?"

"No, but you can pick that up on the way back since you mentioned it. Seriously though, I need you to go to the Memorial Hospital-"

"The Memorial Hospital? They're not even going to let me through the door." Nehal sounds doubtful, and not a little apprehensive, which is not good. You need her to be discrete yes, but also confident, can't have her mess up because she's nervous. Trust. That's what you need.

"Don't worry about that, I'll let Pelayo know you need to go shopping beforehand." Pelayo, not Eden… that's something you'll have to deal with too. You bite your lip to keep from cursing. Too much to do to be lying around here, but what can you do?

"Sweet! I mean that'll do it, boss!" At least Nehal seems satisfied being given permission to use your funds. This will probably cost you more than a new jacket. "So what was I going to pick up?"

"My jacket, the orange one you know?"

"Hard to miss, you hardly wear anything else." Her tone is teasing and it makes your lips twitch, even if you pretend to take offense.

"Hey, I wear other things too! Anyway, you'll have to ask the staff there, it won't just be lying around, don't mention my name, just describe it, say it's yours or a friend's, just be vague unless they ask for something specific – but I don't think they will. Also, look out for any of the Rangers but especially Charge, don't talk to anyone if he's around, just leave and go back later." You think that's all. You hope that's all she needs to know. It's hard to describe how you think, harder still to get back in the mindset of subterfuge, you had really been letting it go since you set out on this path. Stupid, reckless, but it felt so good at the time to not think about all those things, about Them. Just live in the moment. It was almost enough to make you forget-

"Boss?" Shit. You forgot Nehal on the phone, it's far too easy to do, no thoughts to hear, no presence.

"Yes, sorry, that's all, Nehal. As soon as possible, there's something of a deadline – and a bet is on the line! It's a priority right now."

"Oh, a bet! You should have said so before, boss. I'll do my best for you and the honor of the team! Nehal out!"

At least she sounds excited, you think as you end the call, a small smile on your lips. You don't regret sending Nehal to do this, but now you almost wish you could have been there to have seen it in person. If you'd still been able to contact Dr Mortum she could have set Nehal up with a camera to record it… Ah, there's another depressing thought, better to just imagine Nehal retelling her adventure later.

Now all you have to do is wait. Again.

"What's this?" You ask, bemused, as a bundle is dropped into your lap and you look from it up at Nehal standing next to your wheelchair.

"Your jacket!" Nehal replies triumphantly, then adds, "So, do I get a bonus for this?"

You hold up the shredded pieces of your favorite jacket, trying to keep your expression neutral and not like you're about to cry. It's just a thing, you haven't even had it that long. But you've lost control of just about every aspect of your life and you feel like a glass filled to the brim with water, just another drop might break the surface tension and spill the water over the edge.

"You won the bet, right?" Nehal continues, you're not sure if she's noticed your struggle or if she's so into her own accomplishment she doesn't notice. The reminder that at least Ortega won't have this over you makes you smile a little, and you draw in a shuddering breath, setting your shoulders back and look at Nehal.

"Yes, we've won." You grin as she offers a high five. You can fix this, it might end up being more patches than jacket but it's fine. "Now, if you don't mind doing some more shopping I could use some leather and thread."

"Actually I don't think I want to do more shopping…" she pauses.

"Just kidding! As long as I can get some things for me too," she adds with a wink.

"You're bleeding me dry here," you mock-complain, but hand her a card. You can always get more money.

"Wouldn't want that on top of the broken bones. Don't worry boss, I'll only get the necessities!"

She's gone before you get the chance to reply, leaving behind the feeling of joyous excitement like confetti.

[i-didnt-do-1t]

“They’ve asked us to testify.”

“What?”

“Against Snyder. Me n’ a couple of the other boys.”

“Are you going to?”

Jack’s hands tightened around the railing almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know.”

“Look, I mean I know it’s difficult Jack but you’ve got to right? If it means ensuring-“

“Yeah except it don’t ensure anything.” His grip tightened again, voice rising a little as he spoke like David had tried to interrupt him. David stayed quiet, noted that the last time he saw this expression they were at Medda’s after the fight. Cornered and defensive.

Scared.

“An’ even if he does get done for it it’s only gonna be a couple years right? That’s nothing for him. I ain’t wanting to paint an even bigger target on my back for when he gets out.”

“Jack-“

“Maybe if we just leave him alone he’ll leave us alone too.”

David searched Jack’s face, gaze flitting from his suspiciously damp eyes that he wasn’t going to comment on to the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“You really believe that?” He asked.

Jack just kept staring out at the city skyline.

David waited.

.

.

.

“No.” His voice was quiet, reluctant. “But it’s a lose lose here Dave.” And then quieter. “I ain’t ever getting away from him.”

“You can’t think like that.”

“Right I’ll just up n’ swap my brain then.”

“Stop being dramatic. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I’d be dead or in the refuge if I didn’t think like that.”

It felt like a punch to the gut to know that Jack was probably right but he hated hearing it.

“Don’t say that.”

“How many times you been in jail Davey?”

He hated it when Jack made points like this, but had learned he has no choice but to go along with it unless he wanted Jack to shut down again and send him that smile that doesn’t travel to his eyes.

“None,” he said, and the word tasted reluctant.

“I been four.” Jack let the number hang. “Four. And each time I was brought back in Snyder had this- this smile on his face like he was winning some game I was never told we was playing.” He pauses, breathes, looks away. “I told you Dave he hits hard. And you know it’s gonna happen but you never see it coming either.”

David doesn’t say anything.

“Even if he goes to jail it’s gonna feel like that all over again when he gets out.”

He can’t say anything.

“Sante fe weren’t just a pretty town Dave it was a way to get away.”

He knows this. He doesn’t need Jack to tell him. For all Cowboy tries to keep his emotions close to his chest he has a bleeding heart and it’s already stained David’s sleeves.

“I don’t understand.” Is what David says out loud instead.

Jack sighed deeply, pulled himself toward the railing again. “Yeah, makes two of us.”

“He’s barely got a few years on us Jack how-“ he can’t work out how to end the sentence. Decides that has to be good enough. “How?”

“Does it matter? Race is right, it’s a rigged deck n’ he’s got all the marbles.”

David thought about it for a second. Relented.

“You’re right. Guess not.”

[bboisawesome]

Probably lmk season 4 spoilers. I type things and rant without thinking so, just a fair warning.

We good?

Okay….

First things first…

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

WHAT!?!?

I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN!!! HOW DO I BEGIN!?!?

I just wanna say, I might have missed certain contexts because I watched English sub on YouTube, and I was freaking out the whole time. So if there is something I miss or misunderstand that might be why.

I guess some simple thoughts is where I’ll start?

Official monkey MK design!! How are y’all feeling about that one!?!? My boi was glitching and I felt real bad for him!

I couldn’t really tell if they were trying to say he was also born from a stone, or if Monkey King somehow made him? Or…what? Or if it was purposely vague just so they could do the whole, “It doesn’t really matter who you are, you are who you choose to be thing.” I was slightly confused and freaking out.

Either way, I was screaming the whole time. I died when MK called Pigsy his dad, because yes! He is. And my boi Pigsy really had the gall to say he was more of a godfather!?!?!? MK says you’re a dad? You’re a dad!

Which also, MK kind of went ahead with calling Azure Lion Uncle, soooo…confirmed Wukong dad as well?

MK getting all the dad’s and uncles. Kind of jealous. Even if some of them are causing issues. Especially Azure. Not cool dude.

They really heightened the MK angst this season and AAAH!! I can’t handle it!

Seeing the crew with the old crews weapons and stuff was super cool too! I like how during the training scene they had qualities that their past lives or ancestors or whatever hadn’t learned or learned as quickly. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t also learn from the past. Mei is awesome, but I agree girl has to plan ahead more and stuff. I love her to death though.

Pigsy’s was nice to see. (Also soup bending from my man Pigsy.) He may be a bit tough on the outside, but he really does care for his friends and family, and I love that! Now he just needs to get super strong to help them out!

Calling Tang out was funny. My poor useless scholar shall be useless no more! Flex those brain and courage muscles boi! It was so cool to see more of Tang’s abilities!

And Sandy was perfect all along. I always knew it. 😌 I love how the dude kept sticking silver stars on him. 😂😂 His only flaw? Maybe being a little TOO nice. But, even Sandy knew that and can probably adjust accordingly. He had that character growth in season 2. 😂

Usually I like torturing characters I like, but seeing MK suffering and sad made me sad, and I just wanted someone to hug him. Which he got when reunited and getting his friends out of heaven! So I’ll take it! My boi was still glitching though. Someone gotta do something about that.

There was just so much, I can’t even think of it all or what I want to say or do, besides screaming. Plus I was a little confused in places because I am dumb and it is late. I am definitely gonna rewatch a couple times, and absolutely rewatch when the dub comes out! So maybe my thoughts will be in better order by then? Hopefully I’ll process it more by the time the special or finale comes out? Whichever it may be?

Until then, sorry for my insane ramblings. I just needed to process and yell some more.

I don’t even know how I’m gonna sleep or go to work tomorrow like a normal person! Especially after that cliffhanger!!! AAAAH!!

Definitely gonna look for something to draw too! I need to draw something! Okay, okay…I’m chill. I’m cool. See y’all later, and I hope you can process this new season well.

[merge-conflict]

thread-safe: cicada killer

Finally finished my narration of the second chapter of thread-safe, included below. It's about 10 minutes long- it did not feel that way when I was making it. There are some quiet weird background audio bits like a popping and an annoying high pitched hum and I don't know how to remove those, sorry. Did my best, even recording in my closet but my apartment is full of signals.

Synopsis: Goro has brought V back to Arasaka after she ran away, to meet her engram which has been turned into an AI and charged with being Big Brother at Arasaka tower in NC.

Transcript is below the cut. You can also read the second chapter on AO3 here.

cicada killer transcript:

There are so many things I need to talk to you about, but I’d be a fool to think I’m not under observation. I guess you know that. Is that why you never said anything to me before? Is that why you never said anything to anyone?

It’s how I would do it. I get it. I wouldn’t have left if I’d known. You know that, right? I would never have left. I guess I answered my own question, didn’t I? If you wanted me to stay all you had to do was say something– and you could have. They can’t watch you all the time. That’s what you’re for, after all.

But did you know? Did you suspect?

I need you to know. I want to think you do, but you think you know a man and you don’t know him at all. I should have known, but I didn’t want to. If you hate me for that, I understand. God only knows, I’ll understand. Did you think I wouldn’t?

My first visitor– is that you? But of course not. As if I could be so lucky.

This man is dead to me. But you and I and everyone else know that the dead can be relentless. These days the dead don’t just have unfinished business, they have unfinished careers. Ah– he doesn’t know what’s so funny.

I’d tell him myself, but I can’t. They can rip out every ounce of chrome with a logic chip on it, and leave me with no left hand and some beat up vocal cords and call that the bleeding edge of medicine. I should write them some promotional material. At least they replaced my eyes. I was blind, but now–

“V–“ says the dead man, always so formal. I actually warrant a bow. Is that his guilty conscience? “It is time we talked.”

I’m not interested in a conversation with him, but you know how he is when he’s angry. Impossible to shake off. Even harder with one hand and a body that feels like it’s been patched together with glue and rubber bands. In the case that you aren’t watching, I want you to picture this ending with a little more dignity, and without me sitting down on this cot out of breath and tagged with some button speaker like a juvenile delinquent.

“Takemura.” So you are watching. So you’re here. “What is it you would like to discuss?”

That stumps him. I think he’s a little surprised by it, but shouldn’t he know better? Maybe I’m a little surprised, too. It was what he said to me, before he packed me up like cargo: I can’t help you both. Well to be honest, my dear, it doesn’t sound like he’s helped you much either.

“You are angry with me.” Soft words. Should we feel sorry for his wounded heart? “But I do not understand why you will not speak to me. Why you would tell Hanako-sama that you did not want me to know you even existed.”

“Weren’t you happier not knowing?” you ask. How can you ask that?

“It does not matter if I am happy,” he says.

“No,” you agree. “Is that all?”

It’s not all– I can see it in his hands. He’s upset, and angry, and he wants to scream at me almost as much as he wants to speak to you. I think he’d be annoyed to learn that’s what it’s like with Johnny, too. I don’t think he understands any of this, but he’s trying, I’ll give him that.

“I cannot ask your forgiveness,” he says finally. Always so diligent about laying himself down onto the chopping block, meek and willing as a lamb to accept another black mark on his soul. Even now, when he’s seen what the afterlife is like for useful tools. “I do not deserve it. If you do not wish to see me, I will not bother you again. But if you–“ Hesitation, there. What is the polite way to address a disembodied soul? “If you need my assistance, I will be here.”

“Since Hanako-sama refused to send you away, I know that’s true,” you say. Oh, I don’t think he enjoyed hearing that. “As for the rest– let me have a look at you.”

You want a look at him? Very well. Only for you. Let me get to my feet.

The dead man is not small, of course– I think he is very close to average in size, as these things go, and perfectly capable of killing me in a dozen different ways even if he’s a head shorter. But I’d nearly forgotten how sleek he is, how light on his feet he is despite the weight of all that chrome. He’s been hovering so close I think he forgot I was even here, but he’s remembering now. Last time we stood like this he had his fingers inside me, and now that we’re looking at each other face to face I can tell you he’s thinking that too.

More than a dozen different ways to kill me, and yet our dead man doesn’t resist having his hair grabbed, or the indignity of having his head wrenched back– you did want a good look, didn’t you? He’ll suffer it all, this one. What else is there to see? Two eyes, a nose, his frowning mouth. They’ve already done some reconstructive work. I doubt they’ll let him keep the scars under those bandages. One is distinguished. A few more starts to look like negligence. Vulnerability.

He was so furious when I saw him last. He had the right to be, I know that. But I will never forgive him for not telling me the moment I walked through that door. Do you understand?

“Ask me anything,” he says now. “And if it is in my power I will give it to you.”

Too late for that. Did he tell you how it went? Did any of them tell you how it went? Ah, I see he knows what I’m thinking, but do you?

“That’s very generous,” you say. You don’t know. You can’t see.

Here, I’ll show you. Watch him closely. See that in his eyes when I touch his jaw? Guilt. Desire. When I kiss him, he proves he is not made of stone. Stone doesn’t feel self-loathing. Can a dead man feel hunger? I don’t feel anything.

“Takemura,” you say. Polite. Furious. “What happened?”

He has an answer for you but doesn’t know how to give it. I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten that we’re being watched, either. What happened, my dear, is that he was angry with me. We were angry with each other. But he waited until after we’d fucked to tell me about you.

“We had… an argument,” he says. He’s looking at me again, and not you. “I did not control my temper.”

“But you did your duty,” you say. “And now you come here and tell me you will do anything within your power. Do you remember telling me that you had nothing to offer?”

He says, “Yes.”

My dear. I don’t mean to brag about being in possession of our first form, but the heart they gave me is still tender, and there is only so long I can tower over someone, even for you. This is not defeat. Do you understand? I’m only tired.

“You expect me to be grateful,” you tell him. “For hunting down a piece of me and bringing it back in your mouth. So much for your gentle touch.”

You almost understand, but as much as I’d like to see him kicked it should be for the right reasons. Here now, his limp, obliging hand to my throat, do you see? For that only, I asked and he gave.

“What good are you to me?” you say, unheeding. Stubborn. “What good are you to me if you hurt the only part of me you can reach?”

“Do you wish me to leave?” he asks. He’s not hurting me now. He doesn’t want to touch me now.

“I don’t know the answer to that question,” you say.

Is this a kindness? It feels like a knife. I want to hurt him but if you ask me I’d probably do it all again; I don’t know any other way. And if I told him to go? What would be left? You could march the corpse of Arthur Fitzgerald Jenkins through that door and I’d take him to keep my claws sharp. Anything but another white, empty room.

It’s a cruelty to bind him again, especially to me. Especially to us, but especially to me, who can touch him like this– balling his shirt in my fist like a child about to cry. You and I know what it’s like to be pulled in different directions. And it’s weakness. I don’t know how you did this alone. I don’t know.

I don’t know.

“I understand,” he says.

You say, “That may not be within your power.”

I don’t know how he responds to that. I’m tired of looking at him. I wish I could talk to you properly, and I wish I could talk to you alone, and I don’t know if that will ever happen. I don’t know if you feel what I feel but I hope you don’t.

Still. Still, I like weight of his hand on the back of my neck. His lips pressed against my hair– it’s daring. Maybe the quickest way to get him sent away is to ask him to stay.

“I wanted you to be happy,” you say. “I wanted you both to be happy.”

[asachuu]

Okay, I’ve drawn some edgy stuff before and I’ll obviously do it again, but this…well, it’s probably not a lot in the general scheme of things, but as for this account so far, who knows.

Content warning for blood, and I’m not sure if it counts as mild body horror as well or not, but it’s better to be safe.

He may be a horror beyond human comprehension to you, I understand him just fine…but all jokes aside, I suppose I’ll explain the thought process here before rambling on about all else, just because I considered posting it a while ago already…and I’m sure it requires that.

In short, the context is an AU I initially thought about just to draw a single shitpost which I still haven’t ended up making, and I’m truly hoping nobody has come up this before as I generally don’t interact with the BSD fandom as a whole, so I wouldn’t really know.

Regardless, I guess you could say it’s a worse version of Fifteen in which Arthur doesn’t end up taking in Chuuya’s ability, but Paul’s instead, and the logistics of this are really wonky at the moment since I haven’t exactly spent my days planning it out, but oh well. My thought was, if that had happened for whatever reason, in the scenario that the plot would have continued the exact same way as Fifteen up until the fight between Arthur, Dazai and Chuuya, what would have been the outcome? On one hand, in the better case, it could have gone the same way, perhaps with Arthur forgetting he could have used an ability other than his own, ultimately failing and meeting the same exact fate as in the novel— believing he ended his partner’s life and having all end on that note, nothing truly changing…but on the other hand, if he hadn’t forgotten about it, perhaps he could have won the fight much easier in some entirely different way, and what would have been of it all then if he’d been the lone survivor, succeeding in taking in Chuuya’s ability, yet learning what he’d truly done, what and who he’d sacrificed for that knowledge, even what he’d actually used to win the fight itself, which would have been the last thing left of his former associate?

You can interpret this in two ways, either as genuine speculation of the most awful outcome or merely an excuse to draw some messed up semi-Guivre-style abomination that I now believe I should have made far, far worse considering how it’s described in Stormbringer, but no matter which it is as not even I know, I’m quite tempted to write something about it over on AO3, although my ongoing WIP is slightly weighing me down. I could potentially postpone the latter, but due to some personal circumstances, I’m not sure if that’s the right decision here…but who knows. Either way, it has major angst potential, and I’m one to latch onto that sometimes.

Now, as for the artwork itself, to set aside that concept…I’m not particularly sure how I eventually got this done as it’s one of those drawings that were threatened with deletion several times, looked absolutely unpublishable throughout the whole process before something miraculously changed five hours in, but it’s here anyway. I was first meant to use my usual artstyle for this, then I got inspired by a few other posts and tried something close to them for a while, yet I somehow wound up with a style similar to Beast again, which…wasn’t the intention. Nonetheless, I’m quite content with it, which I’m really surprised by considering how much I truly believed I was only finishing this one up to send in a chat once and never think of it again.

All that said, maybe this would have had a few bloodstains less if I hadn’t been listening to some stuff that, although lyrically completely unrelated, probably still played a good part in what I eventually turned to, so the playlist to thank is Chronostasis, Deus Ex Machina, Lovers In Abyss — Release Hallucination, 断罪の焔と恋人たちの輪舞曲 — Imperial Circus Dead Decadence, and if this is just an excuse to throw these songs here, I’ll never tell.

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: A day or two after ‘Ready or Not’ (late September) LOCATION: Texas PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) & Kaden (@chasseurdeloup) SUMMARY: With the shock of Monty being dead passed, he and Kaden find another day to talk more about what that means, and the cowboy admits to the darker aspects of his past. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a

—

The days following their pit stop in the Tennessee bar had felt different for a number of reasons, but Monty wouldn’t describe any of it as feeling worse. Not by a long shot. Part of him worried that he’d pushed things too too far and too fast, but another part of him knew that was a silly thing to stress over. Why were people so afraid of saying they loved someone? Monty could easily rattle off a list of people he loved, and while there might have been different types of love for each person, why was romantic love the big taboo? It didn’t make sense, when you really thought about it. And for most people, life was too short to not say what you felt. Even though eternity stretched out in front of him, he still felt guided by that principal. After all, he’d spent a century keeping himself turned inward, and what had that afforded him? Loneliness. That was it. 

Then, of course, there was the matter of him being a… dead person. Which was probably the more important of the two developments. Kaden had been kind enough to not launch into a thousand questions as soon as he figured it out, but Monty knew they'd come eventually. They had to, he'd not even been clear about what kind of undead he was. And maybe it didn't matter to Kaden, but the cowboy had no clue how much he actually knew—though if that slayer had been a friend of his, there was probably a good chance he knew enough. But then… he had heard once that hunters were supposed to try and keep normal people from finding out about the supernatural, so maybe Kaden knew next to nothing. There was only one way to find out. 

The opportunity arose while they were camping out in the car after a day of hiking in the Palo Duro canyon. The sun had already set and the stars overhead were beginning to shine brightly in the darkening sky. They were rummaging through the cooler for dinner options when Monty sat back with a laugh, looking up at Kaden and shrugging his shoulders. "I guess I don't have to… perform at mealtime, now, huh?" With a meek but understanding sort of smile, he tucked his hands beneath his legs and just watched Kaden instead, worrying his lip between his teeth. “I… ate before we left. Maine, I mean. And I have—well, I’ll have to figure something out in another couple days or so. It doesn’t… keep well. But I was just sort of… going to figure that out when the time came,” he admitted quietly, realizing how foolish it sounded.

—

Kaden knew to expect the unexpected on their road trip but they were barely halfway to their destination and he’d encountered surprises he could never have predicted. It probably should have been more of a shock to learn his boyfriend was undead rather than the fact that Kaden had used the words boyfriend (and the other word; the big one) but he was used to the supernatural seeping into every aspect of his life. The rest? Not so much. Not that he was complaining, it just felt like new territory. All while being completely the same. 

Granted, the fact that it wasn’t the most surprising part of it all didn’t mean that Kaden didn’t have questions, plenty of them. They had all bubbled up in his mind ever since that night but he’d pushed them aside. The fact that Monty was undead hadn’t affected them much before this moment so it was unlikely to make a big difference now, either. At least, that’s what he told himself. Not to mention, he much preferred to focus on the other development in their relationship as much as possible. It was easier, too. It didn’t beg any questions of him: how he knew what undead were, how he knew what Ivy was, why he was friends with her and what he really was. 

He didn’t know when they would cross that bridge, start asking and answering the questions that went left unsaid. It wasn’t on the drive there and it hadn’t been during their hike earlier but it seemed like now that they had settled into the back of the truck to eat was the time. Made sense once Monty explained. “Oh, uh yeah,” Kaden replied, surprised that it hadn’t occurred to him that was the case before that very moment, “guess not.” Putain, his cheeks flushed as he remembered all the times he’d cooked for them or insisted that Monty eat something. And he just went along with it and pretended for his sake. Not that Kaden had any idea what else he was supposed to do. He knew it wasn’t either of their faults but he still felt stupid and a little guilty all the same. “Guess that means there’s more for me.” He tried to play it off with a small smile as he reached into the cooler for the various cheeses and cold cuts they’d brought for on the road makeshift charcuterie plates. 

His brow raised at the net comment. Already ate before they left. Already ate what, exactly? “Well I know you don’t need blood bags. Considering that hike we just went on.” He gestured at the canyon nearby, transformed by the night and starlight but no less wondrous. “Pretty sure this trip would have been a lot harder if you couldn’t survive in the sunlight.” He didn’t want to make any of this heavier or more awkward than it already was, but bits and pieces of his lessons from his past that he thought were long buried kept floating to the surface. 

He hadn’t studied the undead with the depth that he had shifters for obvious reasons but that didn’t mean no one had taught him the dangers of the undead: how easily their kind spread, how they could destroy a town, and how they would consume life until there was nothing left. Among other things. He knew that parts of what he’d learned about the supernatural growing up weren’t always completely true, that he was painted the picture of only the worst possible scenarios without any room for nuance, and it was clearer more than ever looking back at Monty with those images invading his mind. He couldn’t overlay the two images, no matter how hard he tried. But the nagging thoughts of danger, warning, alert, was impossible to shake off completely. Old habits died fucking hard, even if he hated it.

Kaden sighed and tried to shake the thoughts from his mind, focusing more on the rest of what Monty had said, trying to finish putting the pieces of the puzzle together. If he needed something to bring with him, probably didn’t feed on nightmares. Or whatever it was furies needed to live. So that left one option, assuming that there wasn’t some strange special kind of undead he was unaware of: zombie. Monty was a zombie. Ate brains to survive, turned humans with a bite zombie. 

Right. Alright. Kaden exhaled, unaware that he’d tensed up in the moment. Nothing had changed, he reminded himself. This was still Monty. This was still the person he professed his stupid fucking love to the other day. “There’s probably a small town with a local butcher or two along the way,” he offered with a small shrug, hoping that he was on the right track and looking over at the cowboy for confirmation. “That’d work, yeah?”

—

As the carefully worded guesses began, Monty felt embarrassment creep up his spine. Kaden was right, though—one undead option was immediately eliminated thanks to his love of daylight. Which left others, of course, many of which he knew little to nothing about. There could be five hundred different types of undead, and he'd never know. So he stayed quiet as Kaden went on, probably working through a checklist of the things he knew in his mind (and how many things was that?) before reaching the bottom. Apparently it brought him to the correct conclusion, because a butcher was precisely what he'd need at some point during their journey. Okay, so maybe there weren't five hundred different kinds of sapient undead, then. 

Lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck, Monty nodded. “Sí, that would be... helpful.” He sucked in a sharp breath, fear clawing its way up his throat. Fear that now that Kaden had more or less pinpointed WHAT he was, there would be assumptions. Assumptions he needed to quash, as quickly as possible. 

“I—I need you to know, Kaden, I'm not—I don't—” It was always challenging to talk about these things, but especially when he cared so deeply about what the other person would think of him when he was done speaking. Closing his eyes, the cowboy let a beat of silence pass while gathering his thoughts and arranging them in his mind in a way that made sense.

“I don't know what all Ivy told you about... people like me, and I'm sure there are some really terrible ideas out there, but, um...” He stuffed his hands between his legs to stop himself from fidgeting quite so much, but he still wasn't able to meet Kaden's gaze. “I don't... hurt people. I do everything I can to not hurt people. That's why I started the farm in the first place... sure, we sell dairy products, but it's more a source of food for people like me.” He bit his lip, shoulders hunching in discomfort as he weighed the pros and cons of outing everyone on the farm. “Daisy... she's a zombie, too. They all are. I would only hire... undead. To give them a place to live if they needed, and food to eat that wouldn't hurt anyone or leave them... dealing with that trauma.” Trauma he knew too well. “But... I am not going to sit here and act like I've never made mistakes. I have. But I just needed you to know that I try so, so hard to avoid them, and make up for the ones I cannot take back.” His voice wavered with the heightened emotional state that came with admitting he'd killed innocent people before, and that was only talking about the ones that'd become food! He had yet to mention all the unspeakable acts of violence he'd committed back in the late 1800s... or that he'd even been alive then. God. It was so much to cover.

—

Kaden’s brows knit together as he watched the cowboy struggle with his words. It only took a beat for him to know what he was trying to say. That he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He didn’t need to say another word, Kaden knew that already. The second he learned that Monty was undead, there was no doubt in his mind that was the case. Considering he already did everything he could not to inconvenience people, it was never a question on Kaden’s mind. His chest tightened, filled to the brim with sympathy. He set aside the paper plate of food and reached out for a hand, but Monty had tucked both of them away and so he settled on laying his hand on top of the man’s leg, ready to take his hand whenever he set it free. 

As much as he wanted to interrupt, tell him that it didn’t matter, he listened, trying to take in what the man was saying rather than just brushing it off in his own mind as trivial details that changed nothing. And while he was pretty damn sure nothing about what he said was going to change how he felt about the cowboy, he figured he should face the thing rather than continue to pretend everything was normal. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to interrupt Monty every five seconds to tell him that he knew as much.

Well, most of it. His head tilted as Monty revealed that the farm was more than just a dairy farm and that Daisy and the rest were more than just normal employees. “All of them?” he asked, still trying to put the pieces together. Putain de merde, an entire farm full of undead and he had no clue. He almost laughed trying to figure out if his mother would be more disappointed that he overlooked an entire population of undead or the fact that he was dating a zombie. Really was a toss-up. Still, once the fact had settled in, he put together the rest of what Monty was saying. Kaden knew he built the farm partially to help people down on their luck. It was something he admired about the man already. But this? Learning that it was all to help the undead from harming others, from ruining their own lives? Putain, even if hadn’t told the man he loved him already, it would have come out now and he couldn’t keep the stupid smile from his face. 

As much as he wanted to address that, there were a few things he had to say first. “Hey. You don’t have to explain yourself. I mean, I’m glad you are but…” Right, now who was the one struggling to find the right words? He squeezed Monty’s leg before continuing, hoping that even if his words weren’t right, there was still some sort of comfort there. “I trust you.” He wanted to find Monty’s gaze but it was cast away for the moment. “I know, I mean I’m guessing you didn’t always have control over… I don’t know. But I trust you. That you wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not if you could help it.” He took a deep breath before speaking again, unsure if he should say what was on the tip of his tongue. “And… And that you wouldn’t hurt me.” His voice was quieter, but no less sincere. Putain, maybe he was stupid for thinking that, for holding onto that hope, his mother and sister would certainly say as much, but that didn’t change the fact.

“The farm…” He wasn’t even sure where to start. “Merde, I was already in awe of what you managed with the farm, mon couer. But this?” He shook his head slightly. “It’s incredible. I’m–” He didn’t know how to pin down what he was feeling with words. There were too many and not enough all at the same time. It was Kaden’s duty to help protect people from the supernatural, to try and make the world a little safer. Killing no longer felt like the right answer but he’d been struggling and stumbling to find better solutions. And here he was, sitting next to someone who already managed what he couldn’t on a larger scale than he would have imagined. And that man was apologizing for his shortcomings. It was unreal. He leaned over, trying again to catch Monty’s gaze, hoping that maybe if he couldn’t find a way to say any of it, he could convey it somehow. “I know that you said you made mistakes. And that… I mean I know there’s more.” As much as he wanted to look at the zombie with rose-colored glasses, Kaden wasn’t that naive to think that he’d been perfect. He wasn’t judging. He wasn’t either. “But that? The farm? That’s amazing.” 

—

All of them? Monty nodded in silent response, looking a bit fearful. It was a big thing to admit, and while he trusted Kaden completely, that anxiety that came with another non-undead knowing the truth about the farm would not be pushed aside. 

And that you wouldn’t hurt me. That was the big one, wasn’t it? Zombies ate brains to survive, and human brains were the cream of the crop. The coveted meal. But God, that wasn’t what humans were to him. And he… he was just glad Kaden could see that. Understand it and accept it. Of course he did, otherwise he’d have abandoned Monty on the side of the road the moment he’d realized he was dead—and Monty wouldn’t have blamed him. 

He looked at the hand on his leg, feeling his throat constrict. Kaden took advantage of the silence to weigh in on the farm situation, and honestly Monty was thankful for it, because he hadn’t really been sure where Kaden stood before that. That said, the praise made him just as uncomfortable as praise always did, and he shifted beneath the other’s touch, releasing his hands from the weight of his own legs and shaking them out for a moment before scooping Kaden’s hand up into them. “It isn’t amazing,” he argued, recalling how he’d let Alberto get murdered by that slayer, and how all the other vampires had slowly left after that. There’d always been less of them at the farm, and he supposed that they must have felt like he favored the zombies over them. He couldn’t blame them, either. “It is… the very least that I can do.” He gave Kaden’s hand a squeeze, finally looking up at him. “There is… something else I should tell you,” he said softly, his dark eyes jumping between Kaden’s. “I’m…” He drifted off for a moment, considering how best to phrase it. “... I was born in 1867.” Not a fact that mattered, except that it meant he was old. Very old. And while that might not mean much in the face of immortality, it would perhaps mean more in the arena of explaining some of his behaviors and habits. It might make it easier for Kaden to understand him, given how little he’d changed in all that time, aside from losing his nerve and becoming a coward. 

—

“The least you can do?” Kaden repeated, confusion etched into his face. “Monty, that’s well beyond what most people would or could do. You know that, right?” Clearly, he didn’t know that much, otherwise Kaden wouldn’t have to sit there arguing with the man that he’d done something impressive. He sighed to himself; he’d fight that battle later. 

There was more? Putain, how was there more? He could feel his pulse pick up despite the fact that he was doing his best to tell himself it couldn’t be as shocking as the secret that Kaden was hiding. Not sure that thought helped much. He ran his thumb along the top of Monty’s hand, waiting for whatever shoe was about to drop next. For a moment, he thought he was still waiting, that there might be more than the year he was born.

That was until Kaden repeated the year again in his head. 1867. Eighteen. Not nineteen. Eighteen. Putain de merde. “So that would make you…” For some reason, he thought he could do the math in his head right there on the spot. Bad assumption. “Well, uh, over a hundred, yeah?” He furrowed his brow and tried to run the numbers over again. No, yeah, over one hundred years old, for sure. How many, he wasn’t sure yet. Not sure how much difference it made at that point. “Putain de merde,” he said to himself as he ran a palm down his face. “That’s a long time to– Especially as a–” As a zombie. That was exceedingly old for a zombie, he was pretty damn sure. At least the way hunters spoke, most were so volatile that they didn’t make it more than a year. “I knew you were older than me but, uh, didn’t expect that much of an age gap.” He let out a small laugh and rubbed the nape of his neck with his free hand. 

Something occurred to him. Maybe it was because the rest was too hard to process properly. “So you– I’m the first person you… Even though you’re….” That seemed impossible. Hell, he hardly believed it when he didn’t know that his boyfriend was over a century old. “Sorry, just, that’s… I mean that’s a long time to…” Right, he wasn’t making this better, that was for sure. A hundred years and he’d never– 

Wait. A hundred years ago. The world was so different back then. Very different. And suddenly the pieces started falling into place and it all made a lot more sense. “Never mind,” he said softly, giving the cowboy’s hand another squeeze, feeling the cool skin beneath his own. He practically had the callouses on the man’s hand memorized by this point and it was strange to think that they were built up even longer than he’d thought, built up over a century and then some. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot more stories to share, then,” he said with a smile. And he wanted to hear all of them, as many as he was willing to share. 

—

At first, all Monty could do was nod. Yes, well over a hundred years. And yes, all of the baggage that came with that. Some of which the man was slowly piecing together—Monty watched carefully as details occurred to Kaden and shifted him from one microexpression to the next, trying very hard to not feel embarrassed or ashamed by these things. He knew what Kaden would say, after all—that none of it mattered, and that Kaden already loved him exactly the way he was. Still, as Kaden voiced his bewilderment that somehow, in all that time, Monty had never found someone to be intimate with, the cowboy could feel the urge to withdraw swell in his chest once more. But it was okay. It was okay, because the rest of the information seemed to catch up with Kaden's questions and he pushed the question off the table for Monty. There were a lot of reasons Monty had never pursued that with anyone, not least of all the fact that he'd come from a time period where following his heart would have probably gotten him killed. People assumed, given enough time, that one could conform to new societal norms. But how long had that been normal? How long, really, in the span of a hundred and fifty six years, would Monty have been able to hold a man's hand and not be ostracized for it? On top of that, he hadn't even understood it himself, conditioned as he was to think that he ought to have a wife by now. It was confusing and upsetting and the zombie had simply abandoned all thought of ever loving anyone, assuming that it must have just not been in the cards for him. 

Of course, meeting Alan changed that. Alan, the first person he'd allowed himself to get close to because of their mutual circumstances, and the first openly gay man he'd ever met. Not that he'd made any kind of effort to meet people in the past, but with one foot already in the door, it'd been a shock to his system to realize that perhaps there was hope for him after all. He'd just had it all framed wrong in his head. 

And now Kaden understood that, though perhaps in fewer words, but... the warmth that had settled in his eyes spoke volumes, and Monty felt like he could cry again. Kaden was shifting from the cowboy's lack of experience in the realm of romance to his abundance of experience in the general arena of life like everything he'd been admitting was a non-issue, and it floored the zombie. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “I won't... bore you with the lonely in-between,” he said softly, chuckling in spite of himself. “From the time I died in 1904 to when I arrived in Wicked's Rest, I did my best to blend into the background. I was as boring as they come, and never got to know people.” A beat. “But... my best stories come from when I was running with Hector and his gang.” Another beat. “As you can guess, the life of an outlaw was not one short on violence. So... I can keep those to myself, if you prefer.” 

—

Died in 1904. Kaden tried to wrap his head around it. 1904. Monty had died before anyone Kaden had ever known was born. It was impossible for him to imagine what life had been like back then. He could sure try, though. Didn’t love the picture he came up with. “I doubt you were boring. Even then,” he said, nudging the man with his knee. His head tilted as his brows raised as he continued, though. Did he just hear the words “gang” and “violence”? “You were in a gang?” he asked, brows practically threatening to reach up to his hairline. “How the hell did that happen? You? Of all people, in a gang?” He kept trying to picture it and the vision never came into focus. He was going to need help really believing this. 

Kaden twisted to face Monty a little more, trying to see if it made anything make more sense. Didn’t help much. It didn’t seem possible that the man that apologized to the table for accidentally running into it had been violent at any point in time. Then again, he’d lived a few lifetimes by now. Kaden had changed plenty in the last year or two. He supposed maybe it wasn’t entirely out of the question that Monty had changed even more in the time since he died. “You’re going to have to tell a lot more stories before I believe you were an outlaw,” he said with a teasing smile. “I’m, uh, not a stranger to violence,” he offered. It felt like a risk to suggest it and his eyes darted away for a moment. Putain. Didn’t know how he was going to explain that. He hoped he wouldn’t have to and his eyes found Monty’s again. “You don’t have to hold anything back.” 

Kaden wanted his partner to be candid as he was willing to allow himself be. At least, he thought he did. Maybe he’d regret it once everything was laid out in the open, once he heard the tales from his past both before and after he died, but he had to hope that wasn’t the case. Especially not now while a million questions danced on the top of his tongue. He figured he should let Monty decide where to start, though. “I want to hear it all. Whatever you want to share.” 

—

Monty might have questioned Kaden’s admission of being comfortable with violence if not for the fact that they both had spent time in Wicked’s Rest, and now it was clear to him that Kaden was at least aware of many of the same supernatural things he was. Which always meant violence, no matter how much you tried to escape it. Did it really matter what kind it was? 

Letting out a soft scoff, Monty dipped his head, looking down at his lap. He’d not really… talked to anyone about this before, but if there was ever a person to share it with… “Well… okay. Don’t—just—remember that things were different back then, sí? Just remember that.” He took a breath and lifted his chin, his gaze finding Kaden’s in the dim light cast by their lantern. “It wasn’t really… a choice? Um. I mean it was a choice, but the alternative was… dying.” He frowned, realizing something in that moment that he’d never considered before. “... now that I think about it, if I had just let them kill me that night rather than kidnap me, I’d be stuck forever as a… what, nineteen year old? Twenty?” He shrugged, giving a light chuckle in spite of the grim story. “I guess it was the correct choice, ah? Anyway… they had raided the ranch I worked at. Killed most everyone else, but decided to take me with them.” A pause. “Hector decided to take me with them. They walked me for two days back to their camp out by the mesas, then tied me to a little tree for a while after that. Until I’d proven my loyalty.” It had been a decidedly unfun time in his life, but he’d gotten through it. “I am not sure what Hector saw in me that he liked, but he did… keep me around. And after a while, I… I felt at home with them. They were not good people, but they had become my people.” He wasn’t sure if he could admit just how much of it had been his loyalty to Hector and Hector alone, fearing that it would make him sound… pathetic.

One couldn’t be certain if it was better or worse that the cowboy was unaware of a little thing called Stockholm syndrome. 

“I was a good thief, a good… actor, and a good marksman.” His gaze danced up toward the sky avoidantly. “There were families in the gang. Children younger than myself, mothers… we did what we did to take care of them. If they were happy, then Hector was happy. And if Hector was happy… I-I was happy.” His expression had become hard to read, flitting somewhere between upset and wistful. “It was… a confusing time in my life.” The admission came out slowly and in a hushed voice. “But it was also when I felt happiest, I think. I did enjoy life on the road, with wagons and horses and tents. Robbing people was not my favorite thing, but I was good at it, so they took me with them. Aside from that, you know, I was mostly caring for the horses.” He gave Kaden’s hand a squeeze, dragging his eyes back down to look at him again. “But… I did kill people. Not always in self defense.” He sniffed. “I did as I was told. I did it to… to keep the others fed, clothed, and healthy. I can’t take any of that back now, so it’s why I just try to… to help as many people as I can. To try and even out the scales. Tip them for the better, some day.”

—

It was hard for Kaden to process it all. It sounded like a strange dream or a nightmare he was describing, not Monty’s very own life. It was so long ago and so far away that it felt closer to a fairy tale than reality. It was almost embarrassing to remember the times when he was a kid playing cowboys, trying to lasso Keira and chasing her around like she was the cattle. Now here he was, sitting next to someone who didn’t play at being a cowboy out in the wild west, but who was actually there. And not just there but someone who was a real gunslinging outlaw. Hard to imagine. 

He sat and he listened, did his best to take in every word Monty spoke in order to paint in more details onto the picture in Kaden’s mind of who the cowboy was and who he used to be. He didn’t realize just how many gaps there were to fill in before they headed on the road. Not that Kaden hadn’t left out plenty of details of his own past. He wasn’t judging so much as trying to reconcile two very different portraits layered on top of one another. He kept close to his partner, leaned in and held tight to his hand. He didn’t need to feel a pulse to know that the man was nervous and struggling to delve into some of the less pleasant details. 

It wasn’t long before he could see why. His eyes didn’t stray from Monty as he spoke, as he described the terrible things he’d done and how it was also when he was happiest. And he wasn’t sure what that added up to. Kaden had been prepared to accept that Monty had killed people by accident, that he lashed out when he first turned and didn’t have control or didn’t understand what he was. He was ready to hear some of those stories, to file those away as supernatural bullshit. So when Monty said he’d been part of a gang of outlaws, that he stole and lied and killed, Kaden didn’t know what to do with that information, how to feel. Some part of him wanted to twist away, give into the disappointment and disgust at the thought of the cowboy murdering people in cold blood. Another was more than fucking aware that he was the last person who should be throwing stones, not while there were already cracks in his own glass house. 

It was like a heavy weight was placed on top of Kaden’s shoulders, the weight of Monty’s actions with his own. The weight that being with this man was, in a way, excusing it or accepting what he’d done. And Kaden certainly had his own weight to carry, his own pile of heavy burdens to lug around. His own choices and actions he regretted. He knew how desperate he was not to carry that weight alone, how hard it was to shoulder it all alone. Andy and Alex helped, of course. Either way, he knew he didn’t want to let Monty carry that all by himself. It would be a lighter load if they shared it. 

“Can’t say I expected that,” he said once he finally found words between the silence. “That you…” Killed people. Before he was turned. While he had full control over his actions and choices. “You can’t take it back. You’re right.” His thoughts drifted to his own actions and he couldn’t be sure who he was talking about just then: Monty or himself. “But. I can’t even picture you like that.” He shook his head. “It’s pretty clear you’ve changed. That it’s not who you are now.” He looked down at their joined hands as he traced circles with his thumb. “Now that you can make your own choices.” 

His heart ached and once again, he couldn’t be sure if it was because so many of Monty’s choices were stolen from him in his past or if it was because the same could be said about himself. He couldn’t quite unpack what part this Hector really played in all that, it was too much for the moment. Kaden figured he’d hear more later. He could figure it out then when he knew more. “I know it’s not– I mean, I don’t know how much it means coming from me. But for what’s worth, I forgive you. I mean I’m not exactly a stranger to bad choices, either.”

—

“You are right. That is not who I have been for over a century.” He’d seen the truth of the matter when Hector had turned his gun on him. He understood that it had to have been a horrific thing to witness, but they’d still been close. They were close, weren’t they? And yet there had been no love in Hector’s eyes as he stared at Monty, bloodied and surrounded by corpses but coming out of his frenzied state. Hands stained red, shaking as he reached for him. Eyes wet with tears as he begged for forgiveness, for compassion, for help. There was nothing in Hector then but rage and fear, primal and overpowering, catching his breath in his throat as he pulled the trigger. And then again. And again. That’s when Monty had woken up. As he fled, abandoning the only thing he’d ever loved, scorned by it… he realized he’d never truly been his own person. 

“And… thank you,” he breathed. “It means everything coming from you.” He looked down at their hands, ashamed. “I think—I think I was only happy then because I finally felt like I belonged. Even if we did things that were bad, things that haunted me when I tried to sleep, it was the first time I had ever felt… like I was cared for. Like I was wanted, like I’d been chosen.” Pulling his gaze up again to meet Kaden’s, the cowboy smiled weakly. “And I lost that, for a hundred years. I would not let it back in, because I feared… I feared ending up like before. But then I moved to Wicked’s Rest, and I met Daisy, and Alan, and you, and—” He lifted his free hand to remove his hat, tossing it into the corner of the truck bed. “It is… so much a… better kind of want, now.” It had only taken finding the right people, finding the right community. Monty released Kaden’s hand so he could instead frame his face, his dark eyes jumping between Kaden’s as he continued to speak. “I think our bad choices have maybe… reached an end, sí?” He smiled again and then kissed him, and there was nothing careful or hesitant about it this time. His body twisted, rising from the tailgate as he tucked in a leg and straddled Kaden’s lap, digging for more. For things he’d never felt before, and things that had been buried so deep and so long ago, he thought they’d died with him on that warm night in 1904.

[commaclear]

I am not jealous of you Quackity apologist anon. I never will be jealous of you. So what if my darling ÆÆ mistakenly called you stormy? I mean, it’s a bit concerning because me and you have very different typing styles and I thought I made it painfully obvious who I am. But that’s okay because my lover is still learning.

At least now I know I should reach out to them to help em out a little bit. Who knows. Maybe they can help me and Wilbur semi defender with a chart or something. You’d probably be jealous of that wouldn’t you.

I’m not the jealous one here. I’m not the one who continues to talk shit about my ex to avoid them getting with new people after being divorced for longer than I can remember.

No matter how much of an act you put up, deep down you are really just insecure.

When me and you were married, I was practically ignored. You neglected me. And sure I wasn’t the most present spouse, I’ll admit that. We were both at fault. But after our divorce I found out anon marriage could be so much more.

Sure, me and Wilbur semi defender’s marriage has had it’s ups and downs. But me and them have more communication than we ever did. They saw that I had a problem and were upset and hurt, just like you. But unlike you, they didn’t quit on me. Instead, me and them talked and found a solution that worked for both of us.

One thing that I’ve always found ironic is how you reacted when you found out I was cheating and how you continue to treat me to this day. Me and you were married when I analyzed btp. Do you remember btp? Do you remember all that stuff that requires an understanding about perspective based ethics? If you don’t, here’s an excerpt from chapter 15 of bone to pick

Wilbur shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I mean… there’s a lot of reasons? Like, there’s not one, big, catch-all answer.” Quackity turned to look at him. Wilbur couldn’t tell if he was intrigued or just passing a moral judgement; either way he felt the need to elaborate. “Like- like sometimes it’s just a sex thing… like you want more sex or more variety or something.”

“That’s ridiculous though. Why don’t people just talk to their partners?”

“Well most of the time it’s not just sex. I mean you could be really drunk or something, and it’s actually a mistake. Or you’re pissed off, and you’re tryna get revenge by-”

“So change the wifi password or tie all their shoes together or some shit like that. Do something petty that doesn’t destroy all the trust you’ve built.”

Wilbur was quiet for a moment. “Or you cheat because you don’t feel loved and- and you want to feel special and wanted and… and maybe the person you’re with has something your partner just doesn’t.”

“Then why not just leave your partner?”

“Maybe because… you’re scared- No, you’re terrified of being alone and of disappointing someone or hurting them, and so you just ruin everything for everyone instead. Even though you’ve made the same mistakes before, and it never ends well, and you know that- you just can’t help but chase that feeling of being loved, even if it fucks you in the end…” He sighed. “But I doubt you’d get it. Clearly you’re just more functional than the rest of us.”

Now we revisit this in close to the bone when Quackity cheats on his partners with Wilbur. Why did Quackity cheat? You would think an anon who focuses on Quackity would understand, but apparently not. So I guess I’ll just reanalyze this shit for you.

Quackity doesn’t seem to fully understand how Wilbur’s views on cheating could possibly make any sense. Cheating was bad to him. He might’ve been bad at relationships in the past but he had never cheated before. Not until he was feeling like his partners weren’t understanding him. Not until Wilbur had something he couldn’t get from his partners. Not until his partners hurt him to the point that he felt inclined to cheat.

Quackity cheats and then has to deal with the consequences of his actions. He loses his partners and their trust, his paramour who we gave everything up for decided it wasn’t gonna work, and he essentially loses everything. He loses his husbands, he looses Wilbur, he looses his job, he looses part of his eyeballs man. He looses it all.

While he shouldn’t have cheated, when you look at things from his perspective he had his reasons. We’re they great reasons? Not necessarily. But you’re an apologist. So I’m sure you can really understand why he did what he did. And it’s weird that you able to see him as a person but not me.

Do you know why I was unfaithful in the first place? Because you never ever reached out to me. After our marriage, you were hardly around. The only person who was around was ******. And I figured since you were never fucking there you’d wouldn’t notice if I did something. Maybe it was to catch your attention. Have you ever considered that you aren’t the only person who was hurt? Or are you doing what apologists do? Because an apologist can excuse their favorite characters actions, but never would think about how others like them deserve the same treatment.

I’m an analyst. Sure, I have had moments where I failed to understand all the characters. But I’m the end i eventually realize everyone has a side to the story. Everyone has a perspective. It’s like how Htid sally isn’t a horrendous person or how btp techno isn’t a bad brother. Perspectives are important. You call me a flat character but I think you just fail to look at my side of the story.

I feel bad for you, I really do. And it’s unfortunate that me and you didn’t work out. You get Quackity and I love that. When we found each other, we loved the fact that we talked about Quackity. Because a lot of people don’t give him the love he deserves. But now I’m realizing you don’t use that logic for anyone else. Because everyone is deserving of love even if they’ve fucked up. Every character is redeemable if they chose to be.

I think I’ve changed. Maybe not in the way you like, but I’m not trying to please you. I’m with three people who love me and understand that I don’t do well being tied down. Wilbur semi defender anon, dad Schlatt anon, and ÆÆ anon seem to understand me better than you ever did. And I think you’re just trying to hide the fact that you aren’t over our relationship.

All this shit with “cooler” qaa and telling all my partners that I don’t care about them, it really just feels like a defense mechanism. You were hurt and you still aren’t over it. You want to say I haven’t changed, but something tells me you’ve changed less than I have. You just don’t want people to see that. You’re insecure. You couldn’t help me. You didn’t even try. But now that other people have done a better job than you ever could you feel the need to try and drag them down to where you are.

In the drama summary comma wrote, they said you came back from a long journey of self discovery. But the only thing I think you discovered was your reflection in a mirror. Self centered asshole. You didn’t improve shit for yourself other than building up walls and pretending you don’t have issues.

You’re more like Quackity than I am. And you sure do fucking excuse your actions. And I guess that fits. That man’s never been too good at self reflection. But maybe it’s time you try and work on that. Because we all saw how it worked out for him.

So next time you want to come for me, leave them out of this. They’ve done nothing to you. You’re just mad at me and honestly I don’t understand how you’ve still got that much anger left. You’re gonna drive yourself insane if you don’t learn to let go. But that’s really not my problem to deal with

- the Quackity analysis anon

I almost can't believe you came out here and wrote an entire dissertation complete with citations, but at the same time it's completely in character for you

Just wow, I mean great analysis as always but still.... wow

[lavndrnhoney]

I never post or write any more than 280 characters at a time so this’ll be interesting. And probably just a stream of my consciousness.

Hi. I’m Meg. I’m an Alabama transplant from Kansas City. My husband LB and I moved at the end of April (it’s now August 5th) and it’s been an exciting adventure since. I’m a plant-mom, a step-mom (Ma/Mum) to four, a Memaw to two, and a fur-mom. I’m also a big&little sister, an aunt, and a great aunt. I have no children of my own, but we’re working on that. It may never happen, but I’m surrounded by children so that’s kinda cool.

I post on Twitter (now, X) often enough that you’d think I’d have a bunch of followers, but after being stalked and harassed by an ex on social media, I started a new account and made it a closed account so I have 6 followers. I go by the same name on there, if anyone reads this and feels some kind of way about following me. I learned my lesson the hard way with followers, though. A girl at my last job outed me for posting on my closed Twitter account that I was angry at someone in HR for unfair treatment. I went too far and I was terminated for it. We blocked each other on Twitter, but now I’m terrified to post anything. So, we’ll see how long this post stays up.

I work as a pharmacy tech. I’m still on the fence about the job as a whole. Most everyone is nice, but some of the discussions are questionable at best; the pay isn’t great but the potential is there; and there’s an unpredictable schedule. But the work is easy, I have most weekends off, and I’ve kind of connected with a couple of the girls that work with me which is nice.

I am diagnosed with bipolar 2 (manic depressive), major depressive disorder, and general anxiety disorder. This makes every single interaction I have difficult and uncomfortable. I don’t have many friends left and now that I’m in Alabama, I REALLY don’t have much in the way of friends. I’m often weird and I either don’t talk or talk too much - which causes me more anxiety no matter what. My meds work most of the time, but they prescribed me trazodone for anxiety and it doesn’t work. Just makes me feel kinda sick and oddly highly aware of my eyes and forehead. I could talk for hours about mental health and the drugs associated with different ones but I’ll just leave it at that.

I like anything related to plants. I love them. I have like 50 plants and I could talk about them all the time but no one is interested in listening to me about them. I find that that’s a common theme in my life: no one listening to me. But I talk to my plants and they continue to grow and give me something to look forward to as they sprout more leaves and roots. I’ve successfully propagated 8 Monstera deliciosa clippings and they probably give me the most joy. I’m going to build a small moss wall to prop against the backside of an aquarium and stick the roots in the water and add fish. My husband already signed off on it. I’m not sure what kind of fish get. Maybe some tetras. And a goldfish. The post that inspired me had a beta but I’d like a small school of fish. Stay tuned on that.

I guess I’m writing this because I’m lonely. I have LB, but it’s not the same as having girl friends to bullshit with.

I’ll write more again soon.

Trust me, it’s the tip of the iceberg.

Xoxo, Meg

[hrokkall]

Hi in honour of the short carla conversation we had the other day. Miss Carla Dosa. To no ones surprise

MORE than happy to talk about her :]

Favorite thing about them: I love how her reviews of the Weasel Kid games really reflect her attitude towards Lionel at the time. She really just wanted to root for him no matter what (she doesn’t even seem angry over SWK 06 like all of the other reviewers, just sad) and it’s a shame how that turned out for both of them. Congratulations on surviving being a human character in the Mullinsverse Carla and also sorry about your best friend being blinded by success and ultimately consumed by it.

Least favorite thing about them: She didn’t appear at all? Come on, she could’ve at least gotten a grainy picture like Kaycee did but. Nope. </3

She did get to make a game and get it published to steam though so good for her in that regard. Even if it opened a back door to (fictitiously) installing a clown virus on your computer.

Favorite line: I don’t have a favorite line but I DO want to point out that the font she uses in Secrets of Legendaria is the Minecraft font. Absolutely fantastic on her part.

brOTP: The dynamic between her and Sado is so interesting to me and I wish it was explored more in canon (but it wasn’t/probably won’t be in the future so I’ll just do it myself). The way I see it is that Sado is purely chaotic neutral in all respects except around Carla, who she sees as a friend and therefore actually listens to (Carla initially worried that she’d accidentally hard-coded her with that loyalty and—after learning she was alive—immediately tried to undo that by insisting that Sado can do whatever she wants regardless, but that’s not true. Sado is sticking around because she wants to and that’s about it).

OTP: I don’t really ship Carla with anyone

nOTP: I don’t not ship Carla with anyone either—again, I’ve seen maybe two or three Carla ships and I don’t have a strong opinion on any of them one way or another.

Random headcanon: Pretty much everything is a headcanon regarding this character but I’d like to imagine that—following the incident with Secrets of Legendaria—Carla gets a job at GameFuna proper (honestly not much of an upgrade, but GameFuna is in desperate need of programmers who actually know how to program… the head of the company who insists on pushing all the concepts himself definitely isn’t qualified, no matter how passionate he is. Plus, GameFuna doesn’t give a shit about someone’s reputation, AND she gets to work from home a lot of the time, it’s a win in her book). She’s also not aware that her boss is the Actual Devil just because that’s funnier in my book. He’s just an eccentric asshole to her. “Yeah he’s a CEO obviously he’s the devil. What do you mean from the bible.”

Unpopular opinion: I don’t think there are any unpopular Carla opinions on account of the fact that I don’t think anyone remembers she existed outside of… maybe three people. I’d say four but that’s pushing it.

Song I associate with them: Hm, don’t think I have a specific one—at least not one that actually fits. Maybe Remain Nameless by Florence + the Machine? Not 100% on that though. As a bonus I inexplicably associate her with Goodnight Socialite by the Brobecks. It has absolutely nothing to do with her character as far as I’m aware. I just think she’d enjoy it I guess.

Favorite picture of them: There aren’t any </3