#throwing down the gauntlet

[detective-jane-rizzoli]

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: Here is the second part of my Throwing Down the Gauntlet stuff. Series? Idk. Anyway, if you're here for the smut, hold tight. We'll get there.

C/W ::: Angst, broken heart f!reader, language. I think that's it. I read this 243983489 times. But it's like, when you see the words but they don't really absorb into your brain? It was like that. So if I missed anything awful, lemme know, please! Hope you guys like Part II. Thanks!

WC ::: Just under 1,120

Part I ___ Part III ___ Part IV ___ Part V ___ Part VI ___ Part VII

PART II

On the way to the coffee shop across town, you thought about how going there is only a delicacy now. It used to be that you'd grab something several days a week on your way to work when you lived here. On weekends you and Kats would walk over there and get something if you fell asleep the night before without thinking - or caring - to set up the coffee.

Nights like that you'd drift off tangled up in each other's limbs. Coffee was the last thing on your mind. You had to smile a little bit at how coffee-centric your lives were. But the ease of the warm memory faded the closer you got to your old neighborhood.

Everywhere you looked held some story the two of you shared inside the life you built.

The park down the street was where you had your first picnic date.

The corner store was where he bought you your favorite candy on Valentine's Day because he wasn't able to get you anything else. He had to work that day and everything was closed by the time he got off. You still have the wrapper from that. Stuck away in a shoebox that holds so many other perfect moments that you'd successfully frozen in time.

The little deli you two had brunch at often for the past 2 years was where he handed you a little black velvet box with the key to his place inside of it. It was a Sunday that he asked you to move in. You said yes immediately and sat on his lap to kiss his smiling lips. You remember the taste of sugar-rimmed blackberry mint mimosa on his tongue as it slipped past your smiling lips.

You drove past all of that and pulled up to his building. He still hasn't changed his code to get into the lobby. You wondered if he ever would. If he would trust you to hold onto that ridiculous secret.

His apartment was on the 5th floor. The elevator ride up was agonizingly slow. There was a part of you that hoped it would just plummet to the basement/storage level. You got so lost in your little fantasy of being taken out of your misery that when it did stop, your heart leapt up into your throat and your hands reached out for anything to find safety on. But there was nothing. There was no one.

The elevator door opened and you fantasized him standing there holding his cell, scrolling through old pictures of the both of you. And suddenly he looks up and sees you there in his clothes. He falls at your feet and begs you for a second chance. To please give 'you' another chance. As if each of your souls belonged to the other and it was just the merged one from the moment the first 'I love you' had been confessed.

Walking up to his front door, you felt your body tense up. Like it was protecting you from what you were about to walk into. Your hand reached out for the doorknob, but you couldn't bring yourself to turn it. It was like everything stopped. Like something was waiting for you to come to a decision that you had no intention of making. Especially by yourself.

You sighed, pushed it open and pulled out the key. You took a deep breath in and looked around, tapping the little piece of metal that weighed more in your hand than every sorrow you'd ever endured.

Everything seemed to be exactly the same as you left it. The throw pillows he let you put on the oversized couch were still fluffed against the armrests. 

The ficus stood tall and healthy in the corner you both agreed on. "They get pissy if you move them around too much. We’ll have to pick one spot and leave it there." You told him.

“So it's basically a tree version of you?" He retorted, without a moment's hesitation. 

Tears began to pool in your lash line. You thought about all of this; being here. The time that you're here now, alone, felt a lot like it was your day off and he would be home anytime between 6 and 6:15.

He'd come through the door and call for you to come kiss him hello. These memories were slowly making you crash in on yourself. It hurt so much that your time here was now finite.

The bedroom was the last room you went into. It was the last room you wanted to go into. You didn't want to see your side of the bed empty. Worse yet, you didn't want to see his side of the bed - period. It somehow hurt more to know that his side would be filled when he got home. But yours would - "Oh god, oh fuck."

You started to breathe heavily. Dare you say it, you were close to hyperventilating. The thought of someone else laying on your side of the bed brought everything to a screeching halt. You couldn't take a step forward or backward. Your feet were locked into place on the floor. The rug had become a huge piece of Velcro and the soles of your feet were the other half to the grabby, scratchy loops.

Deep down, you knew that the only way to get over this was to face it. So, you did. You walked up to your side of the bed, and stared down at it. It was some fucked up form of exposure therapy if you’d ever seen one. Staring down at the place you'd slept for the last 3 years of your life, you tried to stay composed.

But as you sat down and pulled out your phone, you couldn't hold back the tears - again. They came pouring down your cheeks, soaking your clothes as they fell to your knees. You dialed 9 of the 10 numbers needed to reach him and waited for your better judgment to kick in before you made the mistake of pressing the last digit.

"Any ... time, y/n. Don't … don't do it. Calling him isn't going to fix anything. He told you to get your shit and go. Leave the ke- the key." Your words were coming out as shaky as your breathing was.

You opened your hand and saw just how tightly you'd been squeezing the key. It was symbolic how the shape of it was almost a part of your flesh. The shape was a part of you now, if only for a little while. If you put it down, it would disappear. You'd no longer know that comfort of having immediate access to the one place you actually felt you belonged.

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl

[zeemczed]

The worst music video ever.

Go ahead. Prove me wrong.

(Spoiler: You can't.)

[master-wordsmith]

@staff i will set horrors beyond articulation and comprehension on you if you don't make posts gray again in dark mode by the end of the day.

[thenightfolknetwork]

Hello! You have a problem. You were cursed by a witch to only be able to communicate in second person. This is annoying, but manageable. However, the curse turned out a bit strong, and anyone who tries to talk to you will ALSO only be able to communicate in second person while communicating with you.

You will be honest, you kind of totally deserved the curse. You were rude to the witch on your date and acted VERY self-centered and didn't ask her about herself, very bad etiquette, etcetera. You're honestly fine with just riding the curse out at least for a while longer, it's a good reminder that you aren't perfect and growth is a constant process.

But you're pretty sure that the extra-strength whammy is probably very disconcerting for anyone you're trying to talk to, especially if they're not expecting it, and it's making your job as a call center tech support advisor VERY confusing for everyone involved. And you'd just text the witch to go, hey, you understand that curses are meant to be inconvenient and this is all part of the lesson and whatnot, but you don't think it's fair to strangers who need help with their iPhones, so could you maybe adjust that a bit? But he blocked you on Grindr and you don't know how to get in contact with him elsewise, so you're making a hail mary by trying to call into TNN.

You're pretty sure you don't actually need advice but you'd appreciate it if maybe you could get the word out that if anyone knows a witch in Southpoole with a rocking body, GREAT tongue, bit of a lisp, and mottled brown scales, PLEASE have him contact you about this and also you're sorry--no, sorry, YOU'RE sorry--agh, whatever, you get what you mean.

You can certainly see how- Ah. Yes, you see the problem. You had been somewhat optimistic the curse might not extend to this more removed form of communication, but it seems you were mistaken.

You can certainly get the word out on your platforms – if any of your other followers recognise the individual in question based on that rather… enthusiastic description, please do encourage them to get in touch with the author of this letter at their earliest convenience.

.You say you're willing to ride out the curse until its natural end. That is entirely up to you, of course. However, you would like to note that mild to moderate curses can often be lifted by other practitioners without too much trouble.

If the curse grows overly wearisome or hasn't lifted by itself in, say, two months time, you recommend seeking out a local practitioner and having the curse ended that way. As always, do make sure any practitioner you hire for such work has a proper license, and steer clear of anyone making overblown claims about their abilities.

Finally, while you are generally of the opinion that curses are a rather tasteless way of handling interpersonal conflicts, you must allow, they can be rather effective.

You hope you have learnt your lesson as well as you claim, and that you will be more considerate in the future – or at the very least, save your rudeness for dates who can't call on dark powers to inflict weird suffering upon you in retaliation.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[justanotherfanfolks]

Detective Time! Book 2 keeping the ball rolling with mystery, lore, Grilled Cheeseburglers, and wild Malleus appearances.

[jes12321]

Obsessed with the idea of Fushiguro Toji and Gojo Satoru getting into a custody battle for Tsumiki and Megumi aind ending up with the classic MWF with one parent, TRS with the other parent and every other Sunday. Just think it’d be silly.

[lunaraindrop]

Okay, fellow Steddie writers. I issue you...a challenge!!

Yes. That's right! A challenge!

But what *is* this challenge?

Write a fic/short fic/drabble, in which we have the trope "There's only one bed"...

But instead of getting one bed and the boys deciding to share it, find a reason that Steve and Eddie *insist* on having one bed.

Go wild!

[graciehart]

top 5 castle and r&i episodes

oooo not going easy I see 👀 no rankings because narrowing it down to 5 is a feat in and of itself 😂

Castle

2x12 "A Rose for Everafter"

4x07 "Cops & Robbers"

3x01 "A Deadly Affair"

5x04 "Murder, He Wrote"

5x22 "Still"

Just feel the need to note - this is based on whole episodes (not just scenes) and some of the other ones I'd consider my favorites, for example "Kill Shot" or "Always," are ones I seldom watch because they mean a lot to me/are too personal/etc. ^-^ also Castle just makes me super unstable lol

Rizzoli & Isles

4x04 "Killer in High Heels"

3x02 "Dirty Little Secret"

3x05 "Throwing Down the Gauntlet"

2x06 "Rebel Without a Pause"

1x06 "I Kissed a Girl"

ask me my top 5 anything!

[pumpkinpaix]

Maybe it’s just bedtime. I can finish this in the morning.

[bklynmusicnerd]

I hate to do it because I try not to disrespect the dead, but the temps are forcing my hand here. Trina asking Spencer if he really understands her when she's talking about her art perspective and him immediately responding that he does with zero hesitation, was such a posthumous "fuck you" to Rory.

Trina would try to bring Rory into her world, and he would always give her this blank smile and admit that he had no idea what she was talking about but that he loved watching her talk.

And you could tell how discontent Trina was with that because she so clearly wants to be understood. Spencer understands her.

[scribe-proxy-and-deadpan-snarker]

Katerina Kiricheva - The Bronze Book of Enoch

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: *scratches neck* I'd like to promise you all that this is going somewhere. I'm trying my hardest.

C/W ::: Fighting between Kats and F!reader, general bad feels.

WC ::: Under 800

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part IV

You stayed at Katsuki's apartment for another couple of hours, both of you just sitting on the couch in near total silence. You wanted to talk. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. He wouldn't get it. You wouldn't be able to find the words that would make him see why you had to go.

It was the middle of the day when you finally stood up and went to the bedroom. You pulled the drawer open and looked at your clothes. They smelled like him. Like the two of you. It was a mixture of his natural scent and whatever laundry detergent you both used. It was a smell that you didn't think you'd ever get out of your nose.

You took a deep breath and grabbed handfuls of shirts, pants, bras, underwear. You shoved them into your bag and walked out to the kitchen, where Katsuki was standing over the sink. He didn't look up at you. He was looking down at the key in his hands. You could see his eyes were red and swollen. He had been crying, or trying his hardest not to.

He looked up at you and nodded. "You feel better now?" Katsuki asked you. You stood there, eyes and arms wide, holding all of the stuff you gathered up and put in your bag.

"W-what do you mean, do I feel better now? Of course I don't. Why the fuck would I feel better?" You had no idea why he was asking you that. But you were very in tune with him, still, and had a feeling that he was about to explain the reason behind his question. Though it really felt more like an accusation.

Katsuki shrugged and turned back to the sink, running his fingers through his hair, ruffling the top of it like he always does when he's pissed about something. "Well, I don't know. Sometimes you act like you're the only one who has shit they want to run away from. Like you're the only little princess in the world who's got shit on her plate that she don't wanna eat. You think I don't wanna run away? Well, news-fuckin'-flash, darlin'. I fuckin' want to." He was almost yelling.

Your shoulders slumped at his words. "Is that ... that's what you think? That I don't want to eat something on this plate of life and I'm just scooping it off into the garbage and then fishing around for dessert? Y'know, you have a lot of fuckin' nerve comin' at me like this. Insinuating that I'm selfish. You had a fucking bed built into the wall of your shiny new office -"

"That's my job, y/n! It's a part of my goddamn life. A huge part! Why can't you differentiate between my job and my personal lif-" He started.

"Because YOU couldn't! Katsuki, Jesus. You were the one that couldn't turn your cell off at dinner. And that's when you were home for dinner. There were times you didn't come home for days at a time. Why wasn't I a huge part of your life? Don't you start in on that shit about how I didn't know how to separate the two. I can separate plenty." You put your hand over your mouth at the explosion of words that came.

"Yeah," he huffed. "I can see that." He said, sounding so defeated it broke your heart all over again. "Meanwhile, I'm here, holding shit together. Cleaning up the shrapnel of your goddamn collateral damage. I'm not the one who hurt you. You're a selfish brat. When the spotlight isn't on you for 5 seconds, you throw a hissy fit and move on." He was throwing his arms around now. You could see that eternal fire burning out of control in his eyes.

"I'm ... what the fuck. I'm selfish? I'M selfish?! And what collateral damage? What shrapnel are you having to clean up? I'm pretty sure that I left no mess in my wake." Your eyes were narrowed so much you could barely see him anymore.

"Oh, you left a mess all right. A fuckin' tsunami leaves less damage than you." He laughed a little at his analogy but quickly sobered up, letting the smile subside to make room for his classic scowl.

"A tsunami?" You repeated, incredulous. "Are you fucking kidding me? What did I do to deserve that comparison? I was the one who was always here for you. I was the one who went out of my way to make sure you had a warm meal to come home to. And half the time you didn't even call to tell me you weren't going to be home when you thought you'd be or that you weren't going to be home at all."

You wanted to slap him. You wanted to wipe that stupid scowl right off of his stupid face. But he was always 2 steps ahead of you. He knew your tells. What your breaking points were. Katsuki always saw them coming from a mile away.

You started to cry. You couldn't believe that this is where you'd ended up. That this was the final scene in your love story.

Taglist ::: @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl @arlerts-angel

[sassyandclassy94]

So I finally met one of the new girls at work yesterday. She’s a high school kid. A junior I do believe. Anyway, she gives off HUGE alpha popular borderline mean girl energy and was SO rude when she asked our manager for her check.

She was being introduced to the other new girl, Sydney (who is sweet but man is she stealing all the attention from my favorite male co/worker😭). I didn’t like how I was being ignored even though I was right there so what did I do? I said “And I’m Abby! Nice to meet you.” with as warm as a smile my reserved and ticked off self could muster

You’d think she’d say “Nice to meet you too!” Would’t you? Nnope. Instead she gave me a look that said “Drop dead” behind a cold “Hi.” When she turned around and left Sydney looked at me mouthed: “Wow. Talk about a mare.”

Me: “Total popular high school girl attitude.”

Sydney: “Can you say ‘I’m better than everyone else?”

Now listen, I understand shy and reserved; I’m a very reserved woman who has been told by my best friend that I give off tiny assassin vibes but this?? No this was not either of those it was straight up rude and because of this behavior, I’m determined to break her with gooey sweet, maybe somewhat fake till I make it, annoying kindness.

[lizbethborden]

Cat huffers are lame. Go huff a parrot.

[thevioletcaptain]

listen, i know nobody in deancas fandom is getting a single goddamn thing done today, so i'm issuing a challenge.

how many of us can finish off one of the countless little half-written destiel oneshots in our draft folders and post them before the day is out?