#HOW many fucking times did we create space for you to talk to us and invite us in. and still this shit happened. and i just feel like a

[pepprs]

hi update things are fucking terrible and my eyes hurt from sobbing. lol

#purrs #delete later #not to liveblog and be tmi or whatever but i feel terribly alone and terribly miserable so this is in fact a cry for help lol. or really #comfort bc im fucking going insane. so for context last spring when i was still an intern another intern orchestrated this back channel #where everyone was supposed to talk shit about our supervisors (my dearest most belovedest mentors) and all of us hid it for months and it #all came to a head at asb 2022 because there was a lot of drama witb the asb student facilitators and our staff team. and it was sooooo ugly #and messy and horrible and probably played a direct role in one of my dearest beloved est mentors (who was the point person for asb) fucking #getting a new job and abandoning us in july lol 😃😃😃😃😃😃😃 and so i became a full time staff member and me and my remaining dearest belovedest #colleague besties fucking carried the world on oh r shoulders and put on amazing programs as just 3 of us in the core staff and we thought w #we were doing a really good job with the asb 2023 leaders and that there were no drama dynamics or whatever and guess fucking what. tonight #we found out that half of them hate us for reasons we still don’t know and all of them are at each others throats and also some of the #participants feel a type of way about us. and i know i am being a fragile sensitive crybaby over it but i have had terrible cramps all day a #and have barely slept since ive been here and feel like ive been bending over backwards to support the leaders only to find out that half of #them think we’re evil and i just… i couldn’t take it. so i cried and now im beating myself up for crying. but it’s like come ON. i know we #did a pretty imperfect job of preparing them for this. and i should just take responsibility for that and not be defensive. but it’s like… i #have NEVER seen this program in person before or been part of the planning of it. i was just a student last year like all of you. and also #HOW many fucking times did we create space for you to talk to us and invite us in. and still this shit happened. and i just feel like a #failure. and i couldn’t react to that information in any way except cry liek it’s all so over my head and out of my depth and im not as #emotionally mature as my colleagues bc im the youngest and this is my first time dealing with this and i feel so incompetent and like i #failed. failed the first time by not speaking up when i was implicated in the stupid fucking Google form back channel situation last year #and now failed the second time by not being able to prevent this stupid drama bullshit from happening again and for not catching it. and jfs #like… im in excruciating physical pain and haven’t slept and haven’t eaten well and my life is falling apart and we were ABANDONED BY THE #PERSON WHO WAS RESPONDIBLE FOR THIS (i know we weren’t abandoned she literally just got a new job i just have psychological issues) and #we’ve been running at a million miles per hour with absolutely no break and now you’re mad at us and not even telling us and it’s impacting #everyone’s experiences but you want to pretend this is fucking high school and keep secrets. i am TIRED of drama. i am TIRED of this stupid #bullshit. and not to say this bc i don’t know if asb 2022 drama factored into her decision to leave but if it did i get why * left now. i #get it. bc this shit makes me want to jump out the hotel window. i do not want to face any of them tomorrow and deal with more bullshit. i #am emotionally unstable and incompetent and not equipped to deal with this in a mature healthy way. i want this to be over NOW. im done. #ok i think that’s it um. sorry about that i just needed other people to know i am suffering and i will suppress the shame i feel about that #just this once. esp bc i denied myself the opportunity for my colleague besties to comfort me while i was crying and i regret it now lol

[cookinguptales]

You know... I had an experience about two months ago that I didn't talk about publicly, but I've been turning it over and over in my mind lately and I guess I'm finally able to put my unease into words.

So there's a podcast I'd been enjoying and right after I got caught up, they announced that they were planning on doing a live show. It's gonna be near me and on the day before my birthday and I thought -- hey, it's fate.

But... as many of you know, I'm disabled. For me, getting to a show like that has a lot of steps. One of those steps involved emailing the podcasters to ask about accessibility for the venue.

The response I got back was very quick and very brief. Essentially, it told me to contact the venue because they had no idea if it was accessible or not.

It was a bucket of cold water, and I had a hard time articulating at the time quite why it was so disheartening, but... I think I get it a little more now.

This is a podcast that has loudly spoken about inclusivity and diversity and all that jazz, but... I mean, it's easy to say that, isn't it? But just talking the talk without walking the walk isn't enough. That's like saying "sure, we will happily welcome you in our house -- if you can figure out how to unlock the door."

And friends, my lock-picking set is pretty good by this point. I've been scouting out locations for decades. I've had to research every goddamn classroom, field trip, and assigned bookstore that I've ever had in an academic setting. I've had to research every movie theater, theme park, and menu for every outing with friends or dates. I spend a long time painstakingly charting out accessible public transportation and potential places to sit down every time I leave the house.

Because when I was in college, my professors never made sure their lesson plans were accessible. (And I often had to argue with them to get the subpar accommodations I got.) Because my friends don't always know to get movie tickets for the accessible rows. Because my dates sometimes leave me on fucking read when I ask if we can go to a restaurant that doesn't keep its restrooms down a flight of stairs.

I had one professor who ever did research to see if I could do all the coursework she had planned, and who came up with alternate plans when she realized that I could not. Only one. It was a medical history and ethics class, and my professor sounded bewildered as she realized how difficult it is to plan your life when you're disabled.

This woman was straight-up one of the most thoughtful, philosophical, and ethical professors I've ever had, one who was incredibly devoted to diversity and inclusion -- and she'd never thought about it before, that the hospital archives she wanted us to visit were up a flight of stairs. That the medical museum full of disabled bodies she wanted us to visit only had a code-locked back entrance and an old freight elevator for their disabled guests who were still breathing.

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? It's easy to theoretically accept the existence of people who aren't like you. It's a lot harder to actively create a space in which they can exist by your side.

Because here's what I did before I contacted the podcasters. I googled the venue. I researched the neighborhood and contacted a friend who lives in the area to help me figure out if there were any accessible public transportation routes near there. (There aren't.) I planned for over an hour to figure out how close I could get before I had to shell out for an uber for the last leg of the trip.

Then I read through the venue's website. I looked through their main pages, through their FAQs to see if there was any mention of accessibility. No dice. I download their packet for clients and find out that, while the base building is accessible, the way that chairs/tables are set up for individual functions can make it inaccessible. So it's really up to who's hosting the show there.

So then and only then I contacted the podcasters. I asked if the floor plan was accessible. I asked if all the seats were accessible, or only some, and whether it was open seating or not. Would I need to show up early to get an accessible seat, or maybe make a reservation?

And... well, I got the one-sentence reply back that I described above. And that... god, it was really disheartening. I realized that they never even asked if their venues were accessible when they were booking the shows. I realized that they were unwilling to put in the work to learn the answers to questions that disabled attendees might have. I realized that they didn't care to find out if the building was accessible.

They didn't know and they didn't care. That, I think, is what took the wind out of my sails when they emailed me back. It's what made me decide that... yeah, I didn't really want to go through the trouble of finding an accessible route to the venue. I didn't want to have to pay an arm and a leg to hire a car to take me the last part of the journey. I didn't want to make myself frantic trying to figure out if I could do all that and still make the last train home.

If they didn't care, I guess I didn't either.

If they'd apologized and said that the only venue they could get was inaccessible, I actually would have understood. I know that small shows don't always get their pick of venues. I get it. I even would have understood if they'd been like "oh dang, I actually don't know -- but I'll find out."

But to be told that they didn't know and didn't intend to find out... oof. That one stung.

Because.... this is the thing. This is the thing. I may be good at it by now, but I'm so tired of picking locks. I'm tired of doing all the legwork because no one ever thinks to help me. I'm tired of feeling like an afterthought at best, or at worst utterly unwelcome.

If you truly want to be inclusive, you need to stop telling people that you're happy to have them -- if they can manage to unlock the door. You need to fucking open it yourself and welcome them in.

What brought all this back to me now, you may be asking? Well... I guess it's just what I was thinking to myself as I was tidying up my phone.

Today I'm deleting podcasts.

#I guess it did save me a lot of money #I'll still probably go up to nyc to visit with friends for my bday but I won't go all the way out to brooklyn for the show #and I probably won't need to get the hotel room #and I DEFINITELY won't be supporting their patreon like I was planning lmao #I'll buy myself a new tarot deck for my birthday instead #cw: #disability #ableism

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 3)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: Your infuriating ex is planning something, and it's putting everyone on edge. But if he wants at the hotel, he'll have to go through you (and Alastor) first.

<— Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

—6 HOURS AGO—

"What," Valentino growled, claws creating cracks in the table from how hard he was gripping it. "The fuck did you just say?"

Velvette was no better. Her lip was pulled into a furious snarl, and for once her phone was nowhere to be seen. "Vox, are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Relax," Vox reclined in his chair, raising a brow at his murderous business partners. Velvette's eye twitched and the table creaked in protest under Valentino's fury. "I'm not actually going for redemption, damn, calm your tits people."

"What happened to keeping up an image for the brand?" Velvette banged a fist against her armrest, gritting her teeth. "The Morningstar bitch was literally humiliated on live television, and now you're going to personally advertise for her?!"

"The next extermination is coming sooner than ever, and people are getting desperate. This little publicity stunt can work in our favor," Vox crossed his claws under his chin, megawatt smile growing. "What's a little pity pitch going to hurt? Think about it, I can gather intel, fuck up Alastor's little project, and show Y/n where her allegiances should lie. Win-win-win," he chuckled ominously.

"Cut the shit, Vox," Valentino scoffed, leaning forward to sneer in his face. "It's obvious you're only going this far for that bitch. Can't keep a leash on your toys, hm?"

Vox grit his teeth, digging his claws into his thighs under the table. He knew this wasn't going to go over well, but to be talked down to by someone who was benefiting from him? "So what if I am?" He hid his rage with a large, mocking grin. "And by the way, where's Angel Dust? Haven't seen him around in a while."

Val's face twisted with rage. "You fucking—"

"Enough!" Velvette snapped, glaring at both of them. "I don't have time for this stupid shit. Get on with it or this meeting is over."

Vox's unhinged smile slowly relaxed into his charming PR one. "Of course, my apologies Velvette, Val. I can see why you're not...convinced yet. Let me fix that."

The projector on the wall suddenly sparked to life, displaying three pie charts and a legend with many colorful categories. He gestured to them from left to right. "This is a distribution of our profits from ten years ago, five years ago, and last year."

"We have eyes," Velvette droned boredly.

Vox's antennae sparked in irritation, but he continued regardless. "Y/n's helped develop countless programs and softwares, and with her expertise our earnings jumped thirty seven percent, especially during the collaboration between Voxtek and DeepSpace VR. Now, what happens now that she's taken her business elsewhere? Hell knows she has the computing power to run it without our servers—"

"So, we're supposed to just bend over backwards for a few bucks?" Valentino snarled, crossing his arms.

Vox's screen glitched as he struggled to keep his composure. Thirty seven percent was not just a few bucks. But he knew antagonizing Val right now was more trouble than it was worth. "Val," he chuckled, sauntering forward to rest a hand on the backrest of Valentino's chair, leaning into his space. "Since when have you said no to money?" His eye widened, rings spinning.

"Since it walked out on two legs and ignored us," Valentino snorted.

"Val, I need you to see the bigger picture!" He grasped both of Valentino's shoulders, moving behind him so he could speak enticingly into his ear. "This is an opportunity to keep our brand at the top, and get dirt on that radio bitch. The future is what matters, and we are going to be the ones pioneering it."

The projector flickered to one of the surveillance cameras pointed at an exterior angle of the hotel. Then, the image suddenly rippled to show an artificial video of the same property, but instead of the tacky hotel, there stood a modern building adorned with a bright, neon V logo.

Valentino's smile grew at his last sentence, and he turned in his seat, leaning his forehead to rest against Vox's screen. "I like your vision, Cariño," he purred, grinning wickedly to show off his golden tooth. "But, if your little money-making cocksleeve doesn't come back, well, don't say I didn't tell you so~" he said in a sing-song voice, long tongue coming up to lick languidly along the side of Vox's monitor.

Vox's grin froze on his face, screen glitching.

Valentino chuckled, pushing out of his seat before strutting away. "Oh, and Vox baby," he threw a saucy wink over his shoulder. "Come find me when you get lonely, yeah?"

The double doors slammed shut behind him, bathing the room in silence. Which Velvette quickly broke, of course.

"What the fuck, Vox?" She scrubbed a hand down her face. "All this for a profit we can afford to lose? Really?"

"Velvette," his smile twitched up to full, blinding attention again. "Have I ever let you down before? Everything is under control, trust me!"

"Uh huh," Velvette scowled, unconvinced. "You know, Alastor and Y/n are the only people you've ever really lost it for, and you're going to a place where there's both of them."

"What, you don't think I can handle myself?" His smile strained.

Velvette shook her head, standing up from her chair and approaching him. "You know, that PR shit might work on everyone else, but I can see through your bullshit, Vox," she gave him a hard stare. "Just don't fuck everything up, got it? Or I'll make you wish you didn't."

His fists clenched as she walked past him, smile dropping into a scowl as soon as she was out of view.

****

—PRESENT—

"Whatever you do, make sure he's at least ten floors away from me," you muttered to Vaggie, watching as Charlie gave the bane of your existence an awkward tour of the hotel.

The atmosphere was so tense and suffocating, it was starting to make you incredibly antsy. The others were no better. Angel was drumming his fingers anxiously on the bar counter, Niffty was curiously regarding the new "resident" and Husk was already chugging his second bottle of hard liquor. Holy hell, and you couldn't even forget about Alastor if you tried, the radio demon releasing a constant stream of static and looking about ready to sacrifice someone—preferably Vox—in an incredibly painful and sadistic ritual.

"I can't believe she's letting him stay," Angel hissed under his breath, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Actually no, what am I saying? This is Charlie, of course she'd let him stay. God damnit."

A tap on your shoulder made you turn around, only to find your favorite stiff drink on the counter behind you. You nodded gratefully at Husk, taking the glass and throwing it back like water.

"At least the hotel's in one piece!" Niffty chirped, her one eye back to tracking any stray insects. "Less mess to clean up." Her knife gleamed as she stabbed a cockroach clean in half with a deranged giggle.

"This isn't going to end well," Vaggie scowled darkly. "He's going to try something, I fucking know it."

"Yeah, no shit," Angel groaned, Husk grunting in agreement.

"Or," Pentious chimed in, hair flaring thoughtfully. "He truly does want to redeem himself?"

There was a silence as everyone turned to look at him incredulously, before a unanimous, resounding "no," rang out.

****

"Anddd here's your room key," Charlie presented it to him with a flourish, beaming brightly. "We hope you enjoy your stay! Breakfast, lunch and dinner are served downstairs in the dinning room, or you can go out and get your own food! We'll get your survey ready for you tomorrow so that you can start building your schedule."

"Schedule?" He quirked a brow, taking the room key from her outstretched hand. "For what, exactly?"

"Oh! Um," Charlie laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "We actually host group therapy activities and trust exercises with the other staff and residents! You'll fill out a short survey so that we can personalize—"

"O-kay, let me stop you there, sweetheart," he chuckled, grin widening condescendingly. "I think it's great what you're doing, really, I do. But I've already got a schedule, and a billion dollar company to run. I'm quite the busy man, you know?"

Charlie furrowed her brow. "But—"

"Seriously, my sales would fall and what would my clients say? Hm?" A crowd booing track played in the background as Vox shook his head like she was just some uneducated child. "So thanks, but no thanks." He shot her a wink, before the door slammed in her face.

Charlie blinked in shock, taking a few seconds to process that she'd been dismissed in her own hotel. Her shoulders slumped as she trudged away.

But that only lasted for a few steps, before she perked right back up. What was she thinking? Giving up so quickly on one of her clients?

Charlie grinned, smacking a fist into her palm. She'd just have to try harder.

Unbeknownst to her, a figure had been watching the entire exchange from the shadows. Your jaw clenched, claws digging into the drywall.

"Unbelievable," you shook your head in disdain.

****

As soon as the door shut, Vox deflated like a balloon.

"Fuckkk," he hissed under his breath, sliding down the door tiredly. "The hell am I doing?"

He allowed himself only a few minutes to wallow in self-pity, before he sighed, pushing off the floor and getting to work. In less than twenty minutes, he had the whole room wired to his needs, electronic Voxtek devices littering the previously empty spaces. Now he had a way to travel without leaving his room.

He was just about to dematerialize into one of his laptops when a familiar, chilling presence made him freeze.

"Why, you only just got here! Don't tell me you're leaving already," Alastor chuckled, tilting his head in mock concern.

The radio demon was leaning an elbow against his dresser, just casually invading his privacy. God, just his smug face made Vox want to kill him already.

"What's it to you, old timer?" Vox sneered, electricity sparking from his claws in agitation. "Unlike you, some of us actually have responsibilities. So if you don't mind—"

"Oh my, breaking your word to Y/n already!" Alastor shook his head with a grin, sound effects of a heckling crowd emanating from his microphone cane. "How very...disappointing. Truly, I'd expect better from you!"

Vox's eye widened, the swirling rings on full display as his teeth grinded in rage. "Y-y-y-you keep her fucking name out of your filthy, cannibalistic mouth! You hear me?" He glitched furiously, electricity sparking in glowing webs from his monitor.

"Aha! Someone's a little on edge," Alastor laughed in tandem with an artificial, mocking laugh track. "Really, that was too easy! You're losing your touch."

"Get the fuck out of my room!" Vox snapped.

"Gladly," the radio demon grinned menacingly, the corners of his mouth stretching to unnatural proportions. "But first, I came to deliver a little message."

Vox gritted his teeth, curling his fists by his sides. His electricity buzzed under his skin, ready to electrocute the fuck out of this crazy fucker if he needed to.

"If you and your merry band of idiots pull even the smallest stunt to sabotage the hotel," Alastor approached him, antlers growing as his eyes turned to radio dials. "I think you'll find out that absence did not make my heart grow fonder."

"What, don't tell me you actually care about this place," Vox grinned, baring his teeth. "The whole redemption thing doesn't really seem to be up your alley, no offense."

"Oh, of course not! Haha! Don't be ridiculous," Alastor chuckled like he'd said something hilarious, but it was overlayed with bursts of radio static. "But I'm afraid I've invested too much in this source of entertainment for you to ruin it with your cheap, unoriginal touch."

The message was clear: don't touch my things.

Vox curled his lip, unwilling to back down no matter how utterly disturbing Alastor's demon form was up close. It gave him chilling flashbacks of their last explosive disagreement. "Then stay away from Y/n," he spat.

Alastor's grin widened, eyes glowing an eerie green as he held out his hand. "Is that a deal?"

Vox grimaced, looking at Alastor's creepy, voodoo doll appearance. "Hell no, you creepy fucker."

Then, like whiplash, Alastor's demon form receded and the air became breathable again. "Well, glad we cleared that up, then!" He laughed exuberantly, twirling his cane. "Nice catching up, chum!"

The demon grinned as he disappeared into shadowy wisps of smoke, melding with the darkness against the walls.

Vox's jaw clenched, electric anger vibrating through him and rattling his teeth. "Fuck!" He kicked over the first thing he saw, which happened to be a wooden workbench. It took a few deep breaths for him to finally calm down and collect his thoughts.

When he was no longer at risk of causing a city-wide outage again (that had been fucking embarrassing), he made his way back to his laptop like he was originally planning to do, only to pause in shock when he saw the brand new device short circuiting, screen full of pixelated static.

An explosive rage convulsed in his chest, the lights in the hotel flickering ominously.

"You red bambi ass fucker!"

****

<—Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah @yellowsubiesdance @dirk-strides @justaspectatorforfandomarts @harmoira @sunnyslug @gum-iie @lady-valtieri @mit-suri @whatelsecouldgowrong @sillysimplysilky @eternalera @aoiyx @hazellight11 @hopefully-not @tsuvvy @imcryinginemo @dinorawrss @rekoloid @ayesha-eroticax3 @sle3pyh3ad2 @l0verboyxoxo1111

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox hazbin #vox x ofc #vox x you #vox x oc #vox x reader #vox x y/n #vaggie hazbin hotel #vaggie #charlie hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #niffty hazbin hotel #sir pentious #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel alastor #sir pentious hazbin hotel #angel dust #niffty #charlie morningstar

[the-great-ladyg]

Did someone notice in the new Somerton's video that he didn't adress any of the misogyny or transphobia accusations? Like, yeah, he said "people say I hate women but that's not true" and only that. And he also addressed the misinformation, in which we can include the misgendering, but he still didn'h fully talk about this even when those accusations were, along with plagiarism, the most talked about on the internet.

This dude didn't give any reason for why "he doesn't hate" women or trans people, it truly was a "source: dude trust me" and Somerton expects us to believe him, when no, he threw shit on women in every chance he got, he showed transphobia in many times for no fucking reason other than he's got something against women and trans people.

And he also didn't address any of the racism people has pointed out since a long time, but more specially since HBomberguy and Todd's video. This dude only focused on plagiarism, and even that he sucked at since he implied it was an accident. How can you plagiarize on accident?, you have to write, to read, to check what you're doing, he read and Nick's scripts, he must have noticed the copying and still left it with no citation. He said he loves investigating and reading, then he must notice the copying, yet he also said he "didn't notice", like this dude can't recognize he did this on purpose, it was all "an accident".

Also, he just tried shifting the blame, placing it on Nick or, again, like it was an accident and he didn't mean to it. Somerton knew what he was doing, all of us are taught at school, specially college, that plagiarism not only is bad, it it diminishes the quality and credibility of the person that stole those words, it can get you expelled or fired, and let's not forget the people you're hurting by stealing from them, and this case the people whose experiences and words were stolen. Somerton is in a more privileged position than many people in the LGBTQ+ community since he's a cis white man, and yet he decided to attack this way many POC and trans people, not only he stole their words, but he also used racist and transphobic rhetoric, he misgendered, he erased sexualities and put all of us on the same box of "cis straight white women".

"I wanted to make my channel a safe space", yeah, sure man, like saying all the negative things of an MLM media is straight cis women's fault, or misgendering, erasing the bisexuality of a woman or changing "trans" for "queer" is going to make to make your channel a safe for queer women and trans people.

I just deep down know he won't change at all, maybe except for the citations, but we must expect he'll continue being a misogynist racist transphobe dumbass that will keep ignoring this accusations and using the homophobia card.

I really feel sorry if he truly felt so bad he harmed himself and ended up on an hospital, if that's real I hope he gets better and never gets to that point again. Maybe I'm naive, but I want to believe this is not a tactic to manipulate us to forgive him, but... idk, I just expect anything from this man that has used the homophobia card to protect his ass from any criticism.

But talking by myself, as a genderfluid AFAB person who consumes and creates queer content and felt so insulted by his racism, his misogyny and transphobia, and noticing how he avoided the topic, I don't accept his apology and hope he disappears from the internet before he can do any more damage.

#james somerton #james somerton can kiss my enby ass #james somerton can kiss my afab ass #I'm really hating this man for what he did #and what he avoids mentioning

[icallhimjoey]

Explain Us

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: So, more than flatmates... but, what exactly? Would be fantastic if you would just, you know, talk about it. But communicating is not your strong suit and you're extremely certain that it's fine. Confusing and vague, but, fine.

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, a continuation of define close, no need to read it to enjoy this, though it will help!, language

Author’s note: yea joe fucked up. not talking is fixing exactly nothing between the two of you. but we can be adults about this, can't we? (we can't)

Wordcount: 4.1K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

You’d held on extra tight all night.

Squeezed with your fingers, your arms all tense, because what if Joe wasn’t joking and this was the last time you’d get him all to yourself like this? There was this shared invisible way of being that you’d created together which you had always pretended was just normal flatmate behaviour.

It wasn’t.

Of course it fucking wasn’t. And now that Joe had casually said he was moving, your brain seemed to have shut down.

Just touch. Keep touching.

What would you even be to each other if not flatmates? If forced proximity wasn’t working in your favour anymore?

Just friends?

You had to swallow down bile at the mere suggestion of being just friends with Joe.

Flatmates was such a safe way to describe each other.

It just meant, yea, we live in the same space. We share our comfort zone. We see each other a lot and are kind of like family a little, just because of that.

People never asked questions.

There was no need to explain how well you knew each other. How much time you spent together. People would hear 'flatmate' and would assume.

They would assume wrong, because there definitely was more there. But it wasn’t weird when they witnessed you laughing at inside jokes together. Or if they heard you ripping each other to shit until you ended up in a weird wrestle that didn’t stop until someone knocked an elbow to a table top too hard. Or if they heard you casually talk to Joe through a door whilst he was sat on the toilet without acknowledging that he was, you know, actively sat on the toilet.

The term flatmate was safe.

But it was also scary.

Because how many of the other flatmates you’d ever had did you still speak to?

Precisely none.

Not that you’d had many previous flatmates. But still. You didn’t speak with any of those people anymore. They were now merely vague acquaintances that held a spot on your Facebook friend list, which was utterly meaningless, because who even still used Facebook these days?

They’d been chapters in your life that you’d so easily moved on from.

People who, if you’d see them down an isle in a shop, you’d avoid them at all costs and pretend you hadn’t seen them.

You’d never even fully considered that Joe would also one day turn into a chapter of your life that you’d have to avoid in a supermarket and wasn’t that just the most fucked up stupid thing you’d ever even heard?

You knew you were avoidant.

Didn’t really dabble in foolish shit like confrontation.

So it made sense that you weren’t exactly doing so great now that you were being confronted with how avoidant you actually were.

Joe said he was going to move out.

The pile of clothes outside of his wardrobe suddenly made sense.

Had he not said anything before? Had you just not paid attention? Not registered what you didn’t feel like registering? Was your brain working against you with that much conviction?

Felt wild.

But it took you maybe five seconds to decide that you were not going to freak out.

You could be totally cool about this.

Have a night of cuddled up sleep like Joe hadn’t just said he was going to leave you after you’d properly fucked for the first time and, if you wanted to freak out later, you could do that by yourself in a locked bathroom with the shower running after he’d moved out.

So you tried to sleep.

Couldn’t. Because your mind kept going.

But you tried.

Tried relaxing every time you noticed that your fingers were digging into his flesh.

Couldn’t.

But you tried.

And Joe’d just fallen asleep like he hadn’t just dropped a huge bomb into his bed. Like everything wasn’t suddenly shattering all around you. Wasn’t all falling apart. Wasn’t forcing you to slip on your armor, your mask, your disguise. The one you’d wear when you and Joe were around others. Where you pretended to be normal and helpful and friendly and not touching and kissing and essentially licking each other all over.

You’d have to wear the disguise for Joe.

What a disgusting turn of events.

Could you blame him? Yes.

Were you going to? No.

You could be the cool girl. Keep Joe around. Not scare him off with questions like, “How long have you known about this?” and, “Is this legally even allowed?” and, “What the fuck do you even think you’re doing?”. Questions that definitely all needed answers, but you weren’t going to ask them.

You’d learn the answers along the way, you were sure.

Cool girl.

Come dawn, you had managed to stuff your own emotions down somewhere deep. Hoped they’d stay down there until you decided they could bubble back up.

You also hoped that where your cheekbone pressed into his hair would somehow leave a bruise there. On both of you. So he could feel and see how fucked up this was.

Joe’s alarm went, and you swallowed all feelings even further down.

Closed your eyes and felt Joe stir.

Felt him remove the arm that had stayed in place around your waist to turn the alarm off.

Heard him groan and move back to snuggle up close again, and for a minute, you decided to fully just enjoy it for what it was. Closeness with the guy you liked.

Fuck.

The guy you liked.

You let a hand snake into his hair as you felt him burrow back into your neck. Classic five-more-minutes move. When you softly scratched at his scalp, Joe moaned.

All drawn out.

All sleepy.

“Gon’ make me drool,” he croaked, voice hoarse and low. “Fall back asleep.”

You could burst at the seams with how much you wanted that.

Tightening up a leg around his, you used your other hand to lightly stroke fingers up and down his back and felt how Joe sank deeper.

Was this not the nicest thing ever?

Was Joe not going to fucking miss this?

Why the fuck was he going to move?

Joe allowed himself your touches for a few more minutes before a forced deep inhale pulled him from your grasp on him. It was still dark outside, and when Joe disappeared for a morning shower, you contemplated your next move.

Go to your own bed, fall back asleep, and then hopefully sleep through the whole day?

Or go wash your face, do your make-up, and get ready for the day?

Or have breakfast now, and disappear into your bathroom when Joe would have his?

Yea.

That seemed smart.

Breakfast now and then get ready for the day when Joe would come in to have his.

You got out of Joe’s bed, let your eye fall on the big pile of clothes and decided that, in some weird sort of passive-aggressive-possessive way of feeling, that you deserved one of his hoodies.

That you could wear that today.

Make him see something.

You didn’t fully know what, exactly, but it felt right.

You fished one out, not even one that sort of looked like one of yours, and took it.

Get fucked, Joe.

You only just finished a bowl of granola when Joe stepped into the kitchen, his phone and a balled up pair of socks in hand.

“Movers should be here soon,” he checked the time on his phone, tried to make conversation maybe, but you didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to talk about it.

You watched him hike one knee up to put a sock on, balancing unsteadily on one leg, and then as you walked past him to leave the room, you couldn’t help but let a hand slide across his back.

Last time you got to do that? Maybe.

Shit.

About 10 minutes later the doorbell went and you checked out the window to see a large moving van waiting outside.

When you moved house, you did that by forcing your friends and family to come haul cardboard boxes for you, and you’d thank them by having cheap beers in your new place that didn’t have any unpacked furniture yet.

Not Joe.

Joe got a company to come do all the work for him.

Three men brought in stacked up big industrial strength plastic moving bins and big rolls of plastic sheeting and... it was actually real.

Joe was moving out.

You didn’t even know where to. You could guess. But you didn’t know anything.

You hid in your bedroom for most of it. Made tea with your back turned to all the chaos at one point, but truly didn’t involve yourself in any of the chaos.

From your bedroom you heard Joe pointing out what needed packing. What didn’t need packing. What needed extra care.

It didn’t take all that long. Just as well. Joe was paying these people.

You listened to Joe tell one of them that someone was at the other address, so they were good to head over. Said he’d meet them there later.

The front door shut, and you stared at your bedroom door for a moment. Tried to imagine what Joe’s bedroom looked like now, all empty. And the living room, now without the big cabinet Joe kept old DVDs in that he never watched but didn’t want to get rid of, because teenage-him had begun a collection, and these were the best films.

You kind of didn’t want to see it. The new emptiness.

But then a soft knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yea?” So casual. So laid-back.

Slowly, your door opened, and Joe got to see how you sat on the edge of your bed, heels on the frame, knees to your chest, wearing his hoodie.

Joe leant in the doorframe, head tilted to the side, hands in his pockets, and he looked at you like he felt sorry a little. Apologetic in the worst way. You kind of hated it, but you didn’t want to let him see.

Cool girl.

“Wanna come see the new place?” he asked it like he really hoped you’d say yes but fully expected you to say no.

Which was exactly why you were not going to say no.

“Sure.” you shrugged.

“Yea?”

You got up and grabbed your phone, took it off its charger and pretended to check something, mostly to avoid eye-contact and seem all casual as you said, “Yea, why not. I can help you unpack. Don’t have anything better to do.”

Joe didn’t move aside when you stepped closer, and when you looked up, you were met by his little smile, tongue pushed into his cheek whilst his eyes scanned you up and down a second.

Be cool.

You didn’t know if you wanted Joe to say anything about the hoodie you were wearing.

“Or not, if you don’t want my help?” you shrugged again, face blank, and Joe fucking saw right through you.

He chuckled to himself as he removed his hands from his pockets to grab hold of you by the fabric draped over your shoulders, and he pulled you in for a hug.

One that you didn’t return.

“Don’t have to help,” Joe muttered as he squeezed you tight and, yea okay. So, you didn’t get your arms involved, but you could definitely rub your face into his chest a second.

Feel his strong embrace and close your eyes a second.

Smell him a second.

“Won’t put you to work, just want you to come see.”

Cool girl.

Just friends now.

Future acquaintances.

Strangers, eventually.

Joe hugged you even tighter until it became so tight it was funny.

“Fine.” you sarcastically complained, voice all constricted because Joe wasn’t letting up. “Won’t lift a finger.”

You avoided looking at the empty spaces in your flat that used to hold Joe’s things and then left the flat together.

On your way to Joe’s new place you walked side by side and you kept your eyes on the pavement for most of it. Kept your arms crossed over your front. Made sure you were extra spatially aware, because Joe had said that you always bumped into him when you walked together, and you were ready to prove him wrong, prove that you were actually an excellent walking-partner.

Like that was something that was on Joe’s mind right now.

Like he wasn’t in the middle of moving house.

And then, Joe talked.

And you just listened. Nodded along. Went, “Oh, all right.” and, “That’s cool.” and, “Mhmm.” a bunch.

There were several months left on the lease, and Joe offhandedly said it was taken care off, that you didn’t need to worry, like it wasn’t a huge sum of money he was talking about.

Said it would give you some time and space to find someone else, a new flatmate, no rush.

Said his new flat was really nice, and Joe said that like your flat wasn’t.

Said his new flat was in a really nice area. Like your flat wasn’t.

It was.

But, you understood that this one was likely nicer.

You didn’t comment or ask any questions. It just was what it was and you were going to have to deal with the reality of the situation whether you wanted to or not.

No point in pushing anything.

Best to just go with the flow.

You weren’t enjoying the flow, but you were definitely letting it float you downstream.

Joe’s dad was over at his new place now, and halfway there, Joe got a call from him. The movers had arrived, and was there a way to prop the front door open, did Joe know?

Joe didn’t know, but he said he’d be there soon.

Said he was bringing an extra pair of hands and looked at you as he said it. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, and Joe quickly said, eyes.

He was bringing an extra pair of eyes.

However, you were absolutely going to be helping, you knew. Roll up your sleeves and do some heavy lifting, if only to keep yourself busy. And you’d be silly about it, rolling eyes and sighing loudly, all heavy with pretend annoyance, sarcastically exclaim “I thought I was meant to just come over and get a tour?” and then his dad would make fun of Joe for being less of a help than you, and Joe would scoff loudly and stumble through excuses, and then you would flex an unimpressive bicep, and you’d all laugh.

Nothing was going to be a problem unless you made it one.

And then it sort of went like you had predicted.

You walked past the moving van, ended up helping getting furniture into the lift, and the first thing his dad saw of you was your back as he held a door open so you and Joe could carry a cabinet inside.

Then, quickly, before his dad could launch a million questions at him, Joe invited you on a grand tour of the place. Made his dad smile as he listened to his son saying stupid things like, “This is the living room that won’t have a sofa for at least six more weeks because apparently delivering sofas takes for fucking ever...” and, “Here we have a lovely view of, just... other flats, no, don’t actually look, it’s not a nice view, but it’s fine, I didn’t buy the place for the view, looking outside is overrated...” and, “Instead, be impressed with the size of the kitchen, and ignore the mystery drawer that we’ve not been able to open yet.”

Idiot.

Fuck.

Joe was really moving into his own flat. One roughly the same size as yours. Not even that much nicer, you thought, as he showed you ‘round.

But it was all his, and he seemed proud and embarrassed about it, which was devastatingly cute.

You were obviously going to kind about it. Be all impressed. Be a good friend. Postpone the supermarket-avoiding by actually being friendly.

“This is so nice!” you said after you’d gotten to see all rooms. His bed had been taken apart and movers had just placed the pieces of it in a stack alongside one of his bedroom walls, mattress wrapped in plastic stood upright next to it.

Felt stupid, because that wasn’t your bed, but... that was kind of your bed.

“Yea, you think? Not too flashy?”

It wasn’t flashy at all. The bathrooms didn’t look like they’d been redone since 2004, maybe.

“Just that you were able to buy it,” you joked, but weren’t wrong. Buying property in this area of London was absolutely the most ostentatious thing Joe’d ever done. “Everything else? Shockingly normal. There’s Ikea flatpacks in the hallway for fuck’s sake!”

Joe laughed, which in turn made you laugh, and fuck off, you were sort of killing this cool girl thing.

Made Joe laugh when in all honesty you didn’t think he was allowed to feel all joyful right now.

Well, he did.

This was a big deal.

And it wasn’t like you were going to be flatmates forever, were you?

People moved on. People found new phases of life. Next steps. Onto bigger and better things.

In Joe’s laughter, he bent. Leant back with his eyes squeezed shut, reached a hand out to balance himself and it was fine when he just grabbed your arm. You had your arms crossed over your chest, protective and closed off, so a hand gripping a bicep just to keep a body from falling over was fine. You were laughing too, it was fine.

But then Joe used his grip to pull you closer and slung his other arm over your shoulder, and with your arms still folded, Joe pulled you right into him as he hugged you.

You accepted it, but you didn’t.

Wanted to unfold your arms and make your fronts touch, but you didn’t.

Wanted to violently push him away and scream and cry because why hadn’t he fucking said anything.

But you didn’t.

Instead of all those things, you just tensed up in Joe’s hold. Locked your shoulders and bit at the inside of your lip and prayed Joe wouldn’t notice.

Joe immediately noticed.

Without letting go, Joe moved his head back just far enough to get a look at your face. He could easily detect the upset. Could easily see how exhausted you were. Joe saw the anger, the frustration, the sadness all covered in a light sheen of fatigue. And Joe also witnessed from up close how you were working really hard to hide all of that.

Like you could ever hide shit from him.

Like Joe wasn’t fucking trained to snuff it out on you.

Like he hadn’t felt you grasp onto him for dear life all night. Like he hadn’t seen the hunched up shoulders. Like your arms hadn’t been protectively crossed, literally hugging yourself, since you’d left your flat.

And he’d been waiting.

Always waited.

You always took the lead on everything. Steered this ship over dark seas with waves so high, Joe couldn’t see past them until whatever new thing you’d introduced into your friendship became normal and routine. It was safer that way. Have you call the shots.

But he understood waiting had been the wrong move here, and it was already too late when he realised he should’ve said something so much sooner. He just hadn’t wanted to have that awkward conversation. You never talked. But he should have. He knew he should have.

And now seemed as good a time as any to still try his hand at it.

“Hey,” Joe soft said, and gave you a little shake.

You took it as a way of Joe trying to cheer you up and get you to smile.

So you did.

Just smiled.

“No, don’t– you can be honest,” Joe pulled away a little more, getting a better look at you. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

An invitation to yell at him.

But your smile only grew, and for a moment, Joe almost believed it was real.

“Well, I’m thinking...” you said it in a humorous way, and stopped the moment before it could even become sincere.

Joe gave it one more try, though.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how I–...”

“I think that wall needs a splash of colour. Bit of paint.”

You didn’t want to talk about it.

You and Joe never talked.

Not talking felt important now.

You needed the not-talking now more than ever and Joe couldn’t taint what you barely even had right now with talking. You were trying so hard, and having him try to suddenly talk seemed so unfair.

So you looked past him, looked at one of his bedroom walls and changed the course of conversation to safer waters.

You felt how Joe’s eyes scanned your face a second. Saw him give in. Felt like he owed it to you to let you call the shots, because he’d made the mistake of not saying anything.

Joe turned around and looked at the same wall for a second before he turned his head to squint at you, countering lightly, “Do I really need to?”

You squinted right back, “I don’t think you really want my honest opinion.”

You knew Joe was going to keep all his walls white. Keep it safe. Keep it boring.

“But you know what would look really nice? Big palm in that corner.”

You tried to keep the mood fun and playful and hoped you could make him laugh again. Which, he did. Joe did laugh. But only for a second, because, “Oh! That reminds me!” and without explaining what reminded him of what, he walked out.

You hesitated to follow, unsure if you wanted to continue this weird interaction with other people present. The hesitation was only short, because it only took a few seconds for Joe to jog back down the hallway and–

Your stomach dropped.

No.

The small crispy wave plant.

What?

Joe proudly raised the little pot he was holding in his hand and walked it over to place it in the window. Then he stepped back and admired it and–

No.

That was– no but, that was yours now. That had gotten moved into your bedroom and, yea, all right, you kept calling it Joe’s plant, but he was the one that kept correcting that it was in your bedroom.

When had he even taken that?

Had he just gone in and grabbed it in those three minutes you’d gone to make tea?

What the actual fuck?

Then Joe turned to look at you, smiled and said, “It's a start?” as he shrugged one shoulder and, no. It fucking wasn’t. That couldn’t be a start. That plant didn’t belong in here.

And neither did his bed, all taken apart.

Neither did he.

All of this was yours, everything inside of this room belonged to you, and if you had arms big enough you’d grab everything and haul it right back, what the fuck was he even thinking?

But then, “Joe?” his dad called him to the living room. Movers had questions. With a final squeeze of a shoulder, you were left in Joe’s new bedroom by yourself.

With his disassembled bed.

Wrapped up mattress.

And that stupid plant.

Which, not yours, apparently.

But you know what?

If not yours, then also not his.

You stepped closer. Touched a leaf with a careful hand. It really was a nice little plant. So vibrantly green. You knew Joe was so pleased with the pot he’d chosen. It was nothing special, but he’d mentioned it a little too often to know he wasn’t being normal about it.

But if not yours, then also not his.

Like a cat, you pressed a finger to the side and slowly pushed it. Made it slide across. Watched as the sun danced over the wavy leaves until it just... slipped off.

Just like that.

Crashed to the floor.

Potting soil spilled.

Plant pot cracked right down the center.

Good.

If not yours, then also not his.

You left right after that. Walked straight out. Ignored Joe as he called after you and took the stairs instead of the lift. Were quick, moved your legs as fast as they could go without turning it into a run.

A deep frown stayed etched into your forehead until you got home, where you angrily shook your coat off like your coat was the one that told you it was moving less than eight hours before the movers showed up.

Where you then also angrily pulled off Joe’s hoodie because fuck him.

Where you rushed into your bedroom and let yourself drop down onto the bed face first.

Where you let yourself cry in heaving sobs.

Where you heard your phone ring and pushed it off the bed when you saw it was Joe trying to reach you.

Where you finally looked up to look at your window.

And saw Joe’s stupid little plant there.

Unmoved.

Uncracked pot. Soil still inside. Leaves soaking up the sunlight.

And–

Fuck.

So much for being a cool girl.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma77645, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close #explain us

[neon-vocalist]

things i used to do that hurt my headmates: a non-all-inclusive list, vecause i think it is important to acknowledge when we as hosts do things wrong, but also that mistakes are a part of learning you’re plural and everyone makes them.

1. joke that i didn’t want them there / give them a poor reception. my immediate reaction to “hi, i’m here” used to be “no the fuck you’re not.” they’d say “hi!” and i’d say “no.” especially if they were fictives. they’d give me their name, and i’d go “ohhhh, nooooo, i refuse to believe it,” and it was funny to me and to my friends, but it ended up severely impacting the way they felt around me.

2. see them for their jobs. for a long time, my headmates were more like co workers. i would say things to them that kind of just boiled them down to what they did, from “why are you here? we don’t need protecting” to “i don’t get why so-and-so split, they don’t do anything for me.” now i make an effort to see them for who they are, not what they do for me.

3. lock up our persecutors. i know many systems who’ve done this and many systems who say they will if they need to. i have been in spaces where people advertise “alter jail” and things like that, or give tips on how to create one. while our version of isolating our persecutor was putting him in a tupperware container and not a jail cell, it’s still imprisonment and i don’t think i need to explain why this one is harmful.

4. shit talk them behind their backs. i guess i still kind of do this. i panic and i take the side of whoever’s gossiping about them, and i usually end up saying things about them i would never actually believe. i need to get better at standing up for them.

5. give everyone info on them and their dirty laundry. i used to use my headmates as conversation points. “oh we split someone new btw, they’re x and y and do z,” or “oh, did i tell you about the drama with a and b?” when really the drama is none of my or my friend’s business, and they end up feeling betrayed that i’d tell someone about them like that.

6. act like i was The Valid One. i acted like i got to make the decisions, like everyone revolves around me, and that it was truly MY system— i would order them around, make them do shit i didn’t want to do, and hold myself higher than them. it was me and my alters, and i always got priority.

7. force them to speak. i would make them introduce themselves to everyone we talked to and put introductions in our journal and private server. it didn’t matter if they didn’t want to be known, to me it was essential that all our friends had all the information. even at the expense of my headmates’ comfort.

i don’t do this stuff anymore, and i know it’s fucked up. there’s also things i’ve seen other hosts do that are harmful, and i do my best to call them on it (gently, of course). but i think it’s important to acknowledge that we fuck up and we’ve moved on instead of pretending it never happened and we were always perfect.

#system host #osddid #actually did #actually plural #system things #plurality

[harrystylesfan2686]

Revenge

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Summary: When your ex destroys your most precious thing what do you do? Cry? Of course but not before taking revenge.

A/N: First Eris fic!!🥳 Reader is Rhysand's sister. I think I went a little overboard... oh well🤷‍♀️

Masterlist

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What The Fuck?

I gasp the second I walk into my library, noticing the gaps in the shelves. My library shelves never have space. The whole room is filled with my most precious obsession.

My books.

Where the hell are my books?

When I walk deeper into the room, I notice a big box in the middle. The rectangular box is gift wrapped with a red shiny wrap, held together by a orange bow on top.

On closer observation, I see an envelope tucked under the ribbon. I take it out and open it, seeing only two sentences scribbled in perfectly fine handwriting, a handwriting I know by heart. Eris.

Seems like we are at war now, sweetheart. How do you like my gift?

My eyebrows furrow. I put down the note and envelope, and open the bow, tearing the gift wrap, I lift the lid.

I freeze upon seeing ash.

The box is filled with ash. Grey mixing with black, creating a rather beautiful image. Except it isn't admirable. When I touch the ash mixed with small pieces of paper that hasn't fully burned. My books.

He burned my books.

I intake a sharp breath, my vision blurs as tears fill my eyes but I don't let them fall. Some people might say I'm overreacting, but I'm not. My books are everything to me. I love them. I treat them better then I treat myself.

And He burned My Books.

That piece of shit.

He knew how much I love them. I've talked to him thousands of time about my books, expressing my feelings about them. I don't even let anyone so much as, touch my books. But I let him. I trusted him.

I loved him. We broke up because his father attacked us. Barron ordered a few Autum Court soldiers to parad down at the Court of Nightmares and kill innocent people, not that the people living there are innocent in anyway, but by attacking a part of Night Court, he declared War.

I gave him a choice, choose between me and his father. I was stupid enough to hope he would choose me. Of course it would be his father. Even though he hates his father to guts, he would still need him to make him high lord. And being The High Lord of Autum Court meant more to him than anything else, including me.

So now we are at War. Two courts fighting against each other. What could go wrong, eh? Apparently everything.

None of the other courts want to help any of us. They don't want unnecessary violence, which is alright, considering Night Court is much stronger than Autum Court. Barron is a fool to think he can win. And now, Eris is too, as it seems.

I blink my eyes clear of tears and stand up. I count the empty shelves where there once were books, trying to see how many I lost. Sixty–Five. He destroyed sixty–five of my most loved books.

Rage burns in my veins. Hurt overcome by anger. The need to burn him in exchange fills my entire body. But I calm myself before I do something idiotic. I take deep breaths trying to plan what I'm going to do in return. I get out of the room, taking careful steps as I go.

You want to play? Fine. Let's play.

-☆-

I twist my hand, snapping the necks of the two guards standing in front of the entrance. I slam open the doors without touching them, barreling down the halls of Autum Court Palace.

This is too easy.

Killing every guard that comes in my way, I go to the main hall. I almost feel bad for the people loosing their life over something their stupid prince did, but my mind is seeing and feeling nothing but red.

When I first described my plan to Rhysand, he was hesitant to let me leave, but realizing that we would be at advantage in this fight by the end of it, he gave me permission.

Now here I am. Walking through enemy land, like a I own it. Removing every obstacle that comes between me and my destination.

I push the doors to the throne room open, and scoff at the few high fea trying to keep me out by their so called magic. I raise an eyebrow and stand their for a few minutes, giving them a chance to stop me. I smirk at their pathetic attempts of imprison me.

I am most powerful here, and they know it.

I raise my hands and twist my wrists, snapping a dozen necks in one motion. I walk father into the room rolling my eyes at the laying bodies. Such a mess.

I take a look around the room. The red carpet running in a straight line from the door to the throne. The levels containing seats for every nobal in Barron's circle. And finally the throne Eris so badly wants to sit at.

Coloured with different shades of red, orange and yellow mixing together. Backrest shaped like fire, built so tall I have to crane my neck to see the top. It's beautiful, I'm not going to lie. Almost makes me feel bad for what I'm about to do.

I turn back around, walking out the same way I walked in. Passing the fallen bodies, I snap my fingers once. Heat explods behind me as I walk out of the door. When I turn to look at the damage I'm doing, I smile.

Fire is lined up from the throne, quickly catching and burning everything in it's way. I smile brighter when I slam the doors shut and drop a small note on the ground near them. He burned my books so I'm burning to only thing he holds most dear in this entire world.

It seems we are. Hope you like my gift.

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#acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris fanfic

[coldalbion]

"And in many ways, that complaint has only gotten louder over the decades. Stop talking to each other and start buying things. Stop providing content for free and start paying us for the privilege. Stop shining sunlight on horrors and start advocating for more of them. Stop making communities and start weaponizing misinformation to benefit your betters.

It’s the same. It’s always been the same. Stop benefitting from the internet, it’s not for you to enjoy, it’s for us to use to extract money from you. Stop finding beauty and connection in the world, loneliness is more profitable and easier to control.

Stop being human. A mindless bot who makes regular purchases is all that’s really needed.

Over and over again since that prodigal moment of shame and hurt and confusion, I’ve joined online communities, found so much to love there, made friends and created unique spaces that truly felt special, felt like places worth protecting. And they’ve all, eventually, died. For the same reasons and through the same means, though machinations came from a parade of different bad actors. It never really mattered who exactly killed and ate these little worlds. The details. It’s all the same cycle, the same beasts, the same dark hungers. [...] And while Twitter hurts, I’m not sure anything will ever hurt as much as Livejournal did. It feels like no one even remembers anymore what happened to lovely, flawed, dog-eared, wacky old LJ in the twilight of the aughts and the dawn of the tens. Even though in this year of our lord 2022, when there are some pretty fucking good reasons to remember it, and learn its lessons...

So when Livejournal was sold, not to Viacom or Google, but to SixApart, a company no one had ever heard of, it was confusing. As was its refusal to develop anything like a usable mobile app. When fanfic communities started getting banned for gay content in the name of “protecting the children,” it was alarming and confusing. When it started going down regularly due to constant DDoS attacks, the new owner accused the community of trying to blackmail and destroy him for questioning what the hell was going to happen to all of us, when the Russian Prime Minister was commenting on fucking Livejournal, and when Russian users started put posts in English to let others know what was going on…we all just felt so helpless. It was sold to SUPMedia, a Russian company, and by 2016, had moved its servers to Russia and changed the entire site to conform with that good old very free and inclusive Russian law, but by that time, the community had long fled. Which was the point. Make it unusable and unreliable, bleed off the Westerners and the eye of Western media, and use the database to find and shut down dissenters.

And as hard as it was for us to lose that space where so many of us found family and work and connection, I cannot begin to imagine what those brave dissidents lost. What Russia lost. What they are still losing.

It was a small piece of what was to come. Like Gamergate and the Puppies, an experiment to practice taking apart a minor but culturally influential community and develop techniques to do it again, more efficiently, more quickly, with less attention. To lay out a reliable pathway to commit harm and lie about it for so long and in so many ways that by the time the truth is available, it doesn’t matter, because the harm is a foundational part of the system we’re living in. The harm is the new status quo.

Lather, rinse, repeat."

As someone who's been online nearly 30 years (I'm 18ish months younger than the author) who cut his teeth on dialup BBSses, Fidonet et al rather than Prodigy, I cosign this and beg you to read the whole thing.

#catherynne m. valente #elder millennial #internet history #fandom history

[chrollohearttags]

because so many of y’all wanna get on this app and get bold with black writers, I have a lil sum to say so incoming: long winded rant and a lot of cussing!

the fact that we seem to be the only group in these fandoms to catch hell for creating works centered around is VERY telling and I know the reason why so please spare me the explanations or oppression Olympics about how such and such gets hate as well. I did not ask nor do I care. It’s bad enough that we have to struggle for the tiny bit of canonical representation that we have and even then, it’s a topic of debate by a bunch of sensitive ass crybabies who believe that they are God’s only gift to Earth and that we don’t belong. But to literally be ostracized for creating a safe space within fandom where we are seen, shown and portrayed in any sort of light is soooo fucking aggravating! Every time I turn around, the goalpost is constantly moving for us. If we write smut, we’re doing too much of it, if we write a plus size reader, it’s triggering because some fatphobic bitch is scared of a few rolls and stretch marks and let’s be honest, if we write fluff, angst, etc..you hoes don’t read it. And god forbid we give ur precious favs a fucking headcanon outside of the norm and basic bullshit y’all constantly regurgitate, y’all act like we’re monsters. You want us to pump out content, constantly create stories but then nitpick every detail because y’all are so used to having your way. But let’s talk abt the REAL reason why y’all are mad. Because y’all screamed for the longest that we should make our own spaces because you didn’t want to share them with us. Now that we have, y’all once again move the goalpost (surprise surprise!) now we’re ‘discriminating’ and ‘being racist’ and when those bullshit excuses don’t work, y’all hate raid us and get our pieces slapped with warning labels.

but let’s be very clear, with all the bans, hate, suppression and everything else, we’re still outshining y’all. Still making more unique concepts and creating fics that are far better. Because y’all are lazy, mediocre and don’t want to have to try harder. It’s much easier to keep recycling the same three plot lines and getting us out the way. I could really keep going but I’m not bout to have my page shrouded in negativity. I’m sick of my amazing moots being bullied and harassed, feeling less than and not writing bc y’all are too pussy to say what you really feel w/o an anon button. We don’t owe y’all anything and we’re not leaving. Get over it. To my fellow black writers, I love you so much, please don’t stop writing or feel like you need to change a thing. To the bigots on this app, eat a dick and the balls too. Have the day you deserve.

#cherry chats 🍒 #ranting again #I really hate doing this and I’m sorry #but y’all gone quit playing in our faces #leave black writers alone #vent and rant #vent tag

[eris-snow]

9. 𝐏𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐧: 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐭

Tags: bakugoux fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst,fluff

Revelations uncovered and questions unanswered. Sometimes, when you move two steps forward, you move 3 steps back.

Country to popular belief, Katsuki has done many stupid things before.

He once created an entire backstory to back up one of his egotistical lies. What’s stupider is that everyone believed him. Another time, he’d played the knife finger game and gotten his first scar on his index finger. And then, there was Deku, which was just a huge bombshell of bad decisions all ending with a ‘you fucked up’ at the end.

But sitting in a hero dropout’s house in a crusty living room was not what he expected character growth would do to him.

Just saying.

“How did you find the log?” Saito asks, shifting the packet of Doritos out of the way to make space on the beanbag. Katsuki and you sit stiffly on the couch, as if held at gunpoint.

The apartment was poorly decorated, and not exactly the cleanest, but Saito’s down-to-earth character and overall demeanour was enough to smooth the edge Katsuki was on.

“I found a yellow thread. Led me to the back of the library.”

You frown at him. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“You didn’t ask.”

Not rising to the bait, you reply. “Found it on my first day. I tried to show it to people, but they’d just forget. I placed it back where I found it and gave up after a month.”

Saito glances between the both of you, before nodding in understanding. He turns to Katsuki, “So you’re the Savior,” and then turns to you. “And you’re the Target.”

“Yeah, thanks Captain Obvious.” Katsuki mumbles. You nudge him, and he gives you a scalding glare, but he bites back the rest of his statement.

“Can you help us? Tell us about you and…your friend?” Your tone is neutral, but there’s hope behind it. You’re so close.

Saito looks directly at you both, and Katsuki can almost see a hint of Aizawa in him. Tired, worn out by life, and beaten down.

For as tall as the man is, he sure likes to make himself look small.

“I can tell you what happened. But speaking from experience, the phenomenon must be broken by you two alone. I can’t help you with that.” Inhaling deeply, Saito closes his eyes. “The cause of your invisibility is not based solely on a Quirk; this is far greater than that. It’s a phenomenon. The science experiment on Quirks those decades ago was like wood to the flame, and when it went wrong, everything did.”

Saito shrugs. “Kenji and I dubbed the phenomenon Reset, ‘cause of how far back it put our friendship. Hurts to think that I didn’t…” He trails off, before starting again. “We spent a year picking for clues, and that log has all our research in it.”

“Were there more pairs?” you ask. “Like us?”

“Allegedly,” Saito replies. “But Reset doesn’t happen just for the sake of it, kid. It chooses; it’s specific. I tried tracking down most of the pairs—wasn’t helpful. Most were dead.”

He let that statement hang there for a while; just to let it soak up the silence it left behind.

“We talked about what would happen after we got out of this mess. Kenji told me he wanted to start an agency together, and I agreed. We hit off the moment we stepped foot into that class.” Saito’s expression is fond. “We were like brothers. Sure, we didn’t go through a war, but we were close. That smart alec was always smarter than me, faster than me—he would have made a fine hero.”

Katsuki and you suck in a breath in unison.

Time to rip off the band-aid. Katsuki closes his eyes.

“So he’s dead.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“He faded away.”

Well, he might as well have compressed the room with a piston, because now the tension is really thick.

“I was on track to debut right after graduation. There was an internship and heroes—they still wanted me. But after that? After watching my friend fade in front of me like that?” The man shakes his head and pulls his hair. His voice fights to keep steady. “If I couldn’t even save my best friend, what kind of hero would I make?”

Katsuki has heard those words before. It’s the same words he repeats to himself every day, 24/7, like a broken recorder.

No wonder this guy dropped out.

Your face is fighting to keep expressionless, so when your eyes start to water, you wipe them away.

Katsuki had to be strong on the battlefield. He has to be strong now, even if it’s on a couch in a pigsty.

Strong not for himself, but for you.

With slowed breaths, Saito looks up at the both of you and swallows. His eyes are rimmed red. “ There was an article I found about the experiment the day Kenji faded away, but it looks like he got to it sooner.” the man’s eyes are hollow.

“It was on the guy’s Quirk used for the experiment: Undetected. The person who wielded the Quirk was able to make people invisible, but at the price of taking away his senses, bit by bit. It starts with your eyesight, and when you’re fully blind, it starts to take away your hearing, and so on. Can you imagine being cut off from the world like that? It’s horrifying.”

What a curse of a Quirk.

Bile rises to his throat, and Katsuki forces himself to stay on task. “So can we fix this? Or are we fucked?”

Saito smiles sadly. It looks as if he went through the entire cycle of grief and he was at the last stage: acceptance. “Even though it might seem random, Reset happens for a reason. You must see the unseen and find what has been lost. Do that, and you will break the phenomenon.”

You look close to tears. “Please don’t play word games with us now—”

“The breaking of the phenomenon is different for every pair. Tailored by the strings of Fate herself, customised and thoughtfully crafted. What I was going to do with Kenji isn’t going to work for the both of you.” With a shake of his head, he continues. “The faster you do it, the better. How long have you known each other?”

You’re wrecking yourself inside out, so Katsuki scoots a little closer and answers for you (even if he was dreading the reply). “3 and a half months.”

Saito’s lengthy frame curls into itself even more as the man lets out a depressing sigh. “The day of the science experiment was November 16th. I met Kenji again on the same day, 15 years back. Guess what day he faded.”

Saito doesn’t wait for an answer that doesn’t come.

Fate has a cruel way of tying her strings.

“It was exactly one year later.”

Katsuki sucks in a breath, and beside him, you completely broke.

The day he pulled that curtain and locked eyes with you…

Katsuki funnels through his thoughts and grasps for the date.

November 16th.

The world must have stopped turning.

With a crooked, shattered look, Saito cracks his last statement. “Your days are numbered. Use them wisely, kid.”

—

Katsuki finds the last unwashed mug in Saito’s cabinet and digs out the coffee powder from behind capaciously placed condiments. If he’s going to get through this rationally, then coffee is a much-needed requirement.

There’s a creak in the floorboards, which makes Katsuki’s eyes snap to the doorway to meet cobalt blue.

Saito lets himself into his own kitchen. “You look like a startled cat.”

There’s no reply.

Flicking the tap on, running water gushes out of the tap as the lean man grabs a sponge. Katsuki pours boiling water into his cup, and watches it simmer.

“Where’s L/n?”

“On the balcony.”

Katsuki whips his head to Saito, teeth bared, eyes flashing.

“I told you to watch her—!”

“And I told you she needs to be alone.”

Annoyance creeps up his spine at that remark.

“You don’t know L/n,” Katsuki says, and there’s venom infused into it.

Saito doesn’t respond immediately, choosing his words wisely. “I’m not here to argue with you.”

Katsuki’s glare is sharp as he tears a hand through his hair. Irritated with himself, he rips his eyes away from the hero dropout.

You’re going to die.

The thought repeats, and his blood is cold.

You’re going to die.

“How do I save her?” Katsuki says, voice low, dumping the coffee powder into his boiling water. “See the unseen? Find what has been lost? There are two parts of this wannabe Shakespeare, and we have nowhere to start.”

Blue eyes flicker to red, and all the sounds left is the sound of the fan in the living room.

“I don’t know,” Saito admits.

Katsuki’s fingers curl into fists as a wave of helplessness, uncertainty, and anger courses through his veins. He’s frustrated and so, so tired of running around in circles.

When one solution presents itself, another problem lands right on his lap with vague words strung out by a toddler who thought he was smart. You’re not a means of passing time anymore.

You’re important to him.

And he doesn't want to see that horrified, let-down expression on your face ever again.

“Kenji was my first friend, ever.” Saito’s voice is thick, like he’s trying to push back a wave of tears. “And when he finally told me about his situation, all my memories came back to me. I felt horrible for forgetting somebody like him,” Saito shrugs. “We may not be related by blood, but we were brothers. And I failed him by being too late.”

Katsuki’s coffee sits untouched, as heavy silence hangs between the both of them.

“We had to go back to the tree we used to sleep under in the nearby forest. I’m sure you know it. The one the government cornered off.”

Katsuki brushes aside the memory of Deku’s outstretched hand and the sound of running water.

Focus. He needs to focus.

”There was something we lost there.” Saito continues. “To break the phenomenon, we had to find Kenji’s watch.”

The words pluck the air as Katsuki blinks.

“To break the phenomenon,” he repeats slowly. “You had to find a watch.”

Saito looks at him dead in the eye. He’s not joking. “Yes.”

See the unseen, find what has been lost.

With a scoff, he utters frustratedly. “What kind of significance can a watch hold—”

He stops short when he sees the sorrow deepen in the man’s eyes.

“You have no idea.”

Whatever importance that watch held, it was evident even after more than a decade’s worth of grieving, it was still tearing him up inside. And by the looks of it, it was a story that Katsuki did not want to be told.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Saito turns off the tap and returns the last plate to the dish rack. “That yellow thread you mentioned? It’s a guide, so follow it.” Katsuki gets a bitter smile, and a pat on the shoulder.

“Mine was blue, but that isn’t the point. It led me too.”

—

Your fingers are numb on the cold railing of the balcony.

The temperature is rising, albeit still being cold, but you don’t exactly care for your body’s shivering or the sting in your chest.

You wish you could numb your brain, too.

Light footsteps shuffle against the concrete, and in the next second, you find Katsuki standing next to you, red eyes focused on an invisible point off in the distance.

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t either.

He does, however, lean in closer to you, warmth radiating from his body.

Wordlessly, you do the same.

You were going to die in less than a year.

If Katsuki could move boulders, defy the odds and save the world, Katsuki could break a stupid phenomenon.

You know he can, and you know he will because as much as he likes to deny it, he has a good heart.

Suddenly, you really want a hug right now.

A glance at Katsuki is all it takes, and with a slight nod, he lets you in.

It feels almost too sinful to be in the embrace of the one you used to love, that it rekindles your feelings with a spark. You extinguish it and squash your hope.

Priorities.

Survival first, feelings later.

#juxtaposition (Bakugou) #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #bakugo x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #angst #bakugou angst #bakugou fluff #fluff

[aleksanderscult]

Favorite Darkling quotes

I'm gonna write my favorite Darkling quotes 'cause a) I'm bored b) I love him and miss him so much.

Anyways I'm not gonna rate them cause every one of them is fucking iconic (as he is).

Let's get into this!

"Blue sky. Once more. Speak my name once more... Don't let me be alone."

These might be my most favorite quotes of his. His last words. 'Cause with his last breath he showed that he was only human after all. Cruel and damaged, yes. But still human.

There is no safe place. There is no haven. Not for us. There will be, he promised in the darkness, new words written upon his heart. I will make one.

I ADORE these lines. Less than 24 hours ago two Grisha tried to kill him (one of them a supposed friend) and what did he tried to do after that? Create a safe space for his kind in order for them not to go through what they went through. If he's the villain for this then I wish we had this kind of villain in our world.

‌"All men can be made fools."

OKAY OKAY LISTEN. I love this line for two reasons. Firstly, cause it's true. Every person can be made a fool. BUT! Secondly and most importantly, he hints to Mal and Alina (Alina actually cause Mal didn't know he was there) that he was made a fool too because of Alina. He fell in love with her and felt hope for the first time after centuries that this new person would be like him, live with him and spend eternities together. He would no longer be alone. And she seemed that she wanted him too as far as he could tell. And then what happened? She run off, found Mal and turned her back on him and their country. That mostly disappointed him, I think. In a large degree. And he must have thought what a fool he was to trust her and fall for her. Hence that amazing line.

Let me make a mark on this world before I leave it.

And boy did he not make it? Years after his death in R&R and people still talk about him. He made a mark not only on the world but on people too (no pun intended for Genya I swear. I love her😭). He made a huge impact and even antis have to admit that. Actually more than the actual protagonist but anyways *coughthe fact that the villain made bigger impact than the heroes in the storycough*

"Fight me as long as you're able. You will find I have far more practice with eternity."

You fucking iconic legend with your fucking iconic lines. And yes, I believe him. No matter how many decades Alina would fight him, he would be unmovable.

‌"It’s harder when you like them. You mourn them more."

That line is so true. The more you care, the more you get hurt. I'm sorry but a quality that people often overlook about the Darkling is his wisdom. I would sit and listen for hours to him talking about life, love, death and people. After so many centuries he's so knowledgeable.

Also, this line makes me wonder how many people he had loved, lost and mourned. Because obviously he talks from experience. *Sigh* I would die to read a book about his whole life before Alina.

He only wished that it wasn't winter. He wanted to turn his face to the sun and feel it warm him. He'd been a long time in the dark.

Yeah he's cruel and manipulative and the villain and blah, blah, blah. But again this line proves his humanity. He loves the sun (how much are you willing to bet people that his favourite season is Summer😏), he loves the sunlight, its warmth and light (another clue that Alina is his soulmate dc what anyone says). Our baby was resurrected and first things first he wanted his wife beside him and the sun to hit his face (priorities people🥹😍).

"Then I'd be alone too."

(*whispering*don't cry, don't cry, don't cry)

So. Heh. I may have a soft spot for fictional characters that suffer from loneliness. Probably because I have suffered from it too most of my life (🫠). I'm sorry but you can hate him all you want alright? No one can stop you. But people that don't feel an ounce of sympathy or pity for him and what he has gone through are just useless to talk to. Most of all he wants someone to make him company to this endless sea of eternity.

Deep blue like the True Sea. Red like the roofs of the Shu temples. The pure, buttery color of sunlight—not really yellow or gold, what would you call it? All the colors you couldn't see in the dark.

(fuck. lost control of my tears after all)

Baby shadow summoner can control the dark and its blackness and yet he loves all colors that are bright. But most of all the sunlight.

(DARKLINA STANS RISE)

Also, he made the Grisha keftas blue, red and purple because he loved these colors the most, change my mind *sip tea*

‌"Fine. Make me your villain."

Ah, yes. The cult classic one. Honestly, this line makes me feel bad for him. Cause he has tried the peaceful solution so many times (not with just Alina but generally). At this point he's like: "Fuck it. If I have to become a monster then so be it." They leave him no choice and furthermore he's obviously grown tired of trying diplomacy.

"I’ll be certain you hear it when I make her scream."

I froze the first time I read this line but now I laugh every time I do. Here he shows how petty he can be and how much shame he doesn't have (in your face Mal😚).

‌"My Alina. You cannot run from me."

OKAY LISTEN

I know it sounds creepy but "my Alina" and "I'll always find you" MY DARKLINA HEART GUYS

‌"I know what you thought, what you always thought of me. It's so much easier that way, isn't it?"

My strategic baby. But this line is also sad. Cause he knows how Alina views him and, even if he hides it well, deep down I bet it hurts him.

‌"You two have a bad habit of acting like fools and calling it heroic."

Isn't that the truth tho? Our boy spitting facts once again. Also this line can be applied to other characters from different fandoms as well.

‌"I seem to be a victim of my own wishes where you are concerned."

TRANSLATION: I TEND TO FORGET ABOUT THE WORLD-DOMINATION PLAN CAUSE I WANT TO BE WITH YOU, LIVE WITH YOU, LOVE YOU, MARRY YOU, HAVE 7 KIDS WITH YOU AND DRINK SOME TEA ON THE PORCH TOGETHER WHILE THE SUNLIGHT HITS US

TRANSLATION NO2: I GOT MY ASS KICKED CAUSE I WAS TOO BUSY THINKING THAT I WAS KISSING YOU AND WOULD FINALLY HAVE THAT WEDDING THAT I WAS PLANNING BABE

Is this line a kind of love confession or what? 🥺🙃

‌"We all have our secrets."

Mostly I love this line cause it just sounds cool. But after I read the book for a second time I realized that it could tie with the "Demon in the Woods" book. It's a nice little nod. If you get it, you get it😉.

‌Why did you go to her? Because with her he was human again.

A nice (though bittersweet) little way to end this post. 🥹

With Alina he felt human again. That part that was buried deep beneath him and rarely if not ever got out. Do you remember how she made him laugh with her honest remarks on "Shadow and Bone"? How his eyes closed and his breath stopped when she reached to stroke his cheek on R&R? How he broadly smiled when she laughed about how common his name was? That was Aleksander Morozova (especially that last part). The boy that grew up forcefully and was thrown to a cruel world too soon, too violently. They were these 400+ years that made him cruel. It was eternity that broke him. Loneliness and pain that made him withdraw. Until Alina came. And she could bring to the surface that buried, broken boy. And it felt good to him (although inconvenient too). She made him feel vulnerable. And when he was resurrected he seeked her out to feel that way again. Human.

*sigh*

Thanks for coming to my ted talk guys. 😔✌️

Feel free to write in the comments your own favorite quotes of him 😊❤️

#my boy wanted love and company #somebody please hug him #but also he's so fucking iconic #slay #r&r #shadow and bone #ruin and rising #siege and storm #grishaverse #quotes #favourite quotes #the darkling #pro darkling #aleksander morozova #pro aleksander morozova #alina starkov #darklina #pro darklina

[alonetimelover]

...deserved to experience.

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

warnings: tlou 1 and 2 possible spoilers, angst, tlou standard gore (wounds not overly described), talk of child neglect, sexual themes (p in v), fluff, pain and some more pain

summary: Joel, YN and Ellie settle down in Jackson. It's hard to get used to but they manage - Ellie has new friends, YN works at school. Over the years they grow even closer, there is a small addition to their family and it all is perfect. Past is acknowledged and appreciated- Joel has never been happier. Or is it just a movie?

world count: ~4,3k

a/n: it was written as a part 2 to this > Fade To Black < but can be read as a stand alone. hope you'll enjoy reading it! xx

masterlist

“Joel... Y’all act like you’ve heard of us or somethin’.”

shot

—

Jackson was a blessing. YN still couldn’t believe that they - Joel, Ellie and her - managed to travel all across the country and found Tommy. It felt like a fever dream. They’d only lived there for a few months but the feeling of security let her guard down (at least for the town’s kids. She loved them).

When they first arrived - when Maria had found them in a cabin just mere three miles away from Jackson - it all felt strange and out of place. How in that fucked up world people were able to create a society? How were they able to trust so many people at once? She lived in a small town for years, sure, but then she trusted only two people - her dads, Bill and Frank, no one else. In Jackson they had a city council run by the locals, the functioning court with people that knew the law that once had been in the statute book. It was a commune, sure. It did connote with rather unfortunate times in history, but who was she to judge something that was working for a small town?

But people were wary of them - mostly of Joel - in the beginning. They kept their distance, didn’t talk to them if not necessary, didn’t cross paths on the streets. They were terrified, even though they did not know them. Apparently (Tommy said so later on) Joel’s hard look and possessive eyes were enough to keep people at bay. 

Ellie, surprisingly, accommodated quickly. She managed to have friends - Dina and Jesse who were a rather unusual couple (in the past three weeks they’d managed to break up four times). She didn’t tell them everything, she didn’t show them everything. But she did trust them in some aspects. YN loved that for her, telling Joel how needed those interactions were for Ellie. ‘She’s a teenager, Joel. She needs to be around her peers. That’s the best way for her to grow up,’ she was explaining to him, one cold evening, observing Ellie playing football with her new-found friends. 

YN found needed space in Jackson after two months of getting used to the hot water, running showers and hot food, but, most importantly, all the people surrounding her. Maria assigned YN to help teachers in school. She learnt from Tommy that YN had been a teacher in the QZ, so it was the most suited role for her in their community. Besides that the town’s hospital needed a nurse ready to teach new people the first AID but also the basics of health care that could be ready to provide for their residents. She felt needed. It was the best feeling. 

Joel. Joel had the least pleasant time to settle into living normally. For years, he’d been like a nomad. Showering only when he’d find clear water - not so often. Eating 20-year-old Chef Boyardee or sleeping on a dirt floor. Now? He had a house, a bedroom with a big bed, comfy blankets and the mattress that made his back hurt less. He had a kitchen where he could prepare dinner for his whole family. He had running water. But there also were people around him that he didn’t know. No background information, no things to threaten them with if needed, nothing. And it made his skin crawl. 

“You cannot follow a person just because you think they looked “wrongly” at me, Joel. This is a civilised town, we need to get used to it. People are curious, because we’re new. We’re something different and it excites but also terrifies them,” YN said to Joel, scolding him really for his behaviour. 

“It wasn't that he looked wrongly at ya. It was a dirty look. He wanted something.” Joel defended himself. 

“So that’s why you followed him. What were you going to do if I didn’t show up?”

Joel sat in silence. 

“You’d beat him up, wouldn’t ya?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t but your clenched fists and scrunched eyebrows said everything,” she scoffed, massaging her temples. “Look -” she crouched in front of him, placing her hands on his knees. “I know you’re scared but we are safe here. Tommy promised you, promised me. He and Maria were kind enough to let us be here without actually benefiting the town for a month. I think we should show our gratitude in ways other than beating people's asses for looking badly at us. Hmm?”

Joel smiled, “how are you so good at making me cave in immediately?” 

Joel’s palm rested on YN’s cheek, her head instantly leaned towards it. She closed her eyes, mimicking Joel’s smile.

“You love me.”

“That I do.”

—

“You stupid old man. You don’t get to rush this.”

crack

—

“You’re asking me out?”

“If you ask one more time, I’m taking it back.”

“No, no, no!” She quickly protested. “I’m going. I’m sure as hell going.”

“Thank God, I really didn’t want to take it back, ya know?” 

Joel and YN were sitting on the couch, reading their separate books when Joel prompted a question of “what would you say of going out to the pub tonight?” which absolutely took her aback. A date? Joel Miller going on a date? The same day he killed five infected and - once again - saved her life, he was shyly asking her out. The man that Joel Miller was could be studied in psychology classes, a truly interesting case. Ideal to fail your students on characteristics of a duality. 

“What made you ask?” She wasn’t interested in a book anymore. She needed answers. 

“When we were heading back from patrol, I realised I’ve never taken you out. Wanted to change that.” Joel simply shrugged, coming back to his novel. 

“Don’t read now, please,” she whispered, closing his book. Now, she was sitting on her heels just centimetres away from Joel. “Look at me, please?”

He obeyed without batting an eye, locking his brown eyes with hers. 

“Thank you.”

“There is nothin’ to thank me for, darling. Not just yet, at least.” He chuckled, stroking her cheek. “After the date you can thank me.”

“I want now, please?”

Another thing that was different in Jackson was privacy. As much as they were watched by people on the streets, in the house that Tommy assigned them to, they were alone. Ellie chose the bedroom far away from theirs, saying ‘I don’t need to hear this old man grunting while turning in bed’ but her look said something very different. Something that Joel and YN were finally able to enjoy. Each other. 

Sex was something that became very important to them along their relationship. Over the years they both had shied away from their feelings, they had become distant, shielding their emotions. Words stopped holding much importance, considering how they’d betrayed them in the past. They felt overrated, because how could you know if the person in front of you was actually telling the truth? 

Joel lied once, jeopardised his feelings, hurting YN in the process. YN once suffered from lack of emotions, understanding and communication. So, in the beginning of their renewed relationship they both didn’t believe one another. Rightfully so. And somehow in their most vulnerable state, while being so close to each other, becoming one, the truth spilled over them, covering their sweaty bodies, shielding them from lies. Lies that were in the back of their heads ready to fly around from one’s mouth to another's ear. 

“I love you,” Joel grunted in YN’s ear, his climax creeping on him for minutes. “I love you, baby. I - fuck - I love you so much.” 

“I know,” she moaned back in understatement, clasping his face in her hands. “I lo - ugh.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” He kissed her temple, keeping a steady rhythm of his hips. “I know, baby. I know.”

They kept at that unvarying pace, chasing their absolute pleasure. Joel’s back had been slightly scratched, YN’s thighs visibly bruised from Joel’s fingers digging in her flesh for hours. They finally felt at peace. No thoughts other than mutual appreciation and yearning for each other overtaking them. Nothing but love and passion. 

“I love you. I’m so sorry,” Joel was repeating over and over, nearing his orgasm, avoiding YN’s eyes. Always apologising when most emotionally defenceless for what he had done in the past.

“It’s okay. I forgave you, baby. It’s okay.” She tried to look into his eyes. “Look at me, please. Joel, please,” she moaned the last word. 

How could he not complain after hearing her begging so sweetly? 

“I love you.”

“Fuck, I love you, baby. I lo -” 

The pleasure overwhelmed them, tipping them over the edge of it. Sudden warmth cuddled them up. Joel fell on top of YN, groaning softly, panting. She hugged him as hard as the remaining strength let her. 

“It’s okay,” she groaned. “We’re okay, Joel.”

“I know.”

—

“You’re gonna fucking die!”

—

Teaching was her calling. She understood that in Jackson. Not nursing or shooting on patrols. Teaching. Seeing the marvel on those little faces whenever they learnt something new, exciting was one of the best views YN could’ve ever imagined. Especially when that wonder covered her favourite student’s face (yes, she had a favourite) - Mia. 

“So, you’re saying that that - that many, many years ago those big lizards were walking here?” 

“Dinosaurs, yes. But what is even crazier,” YN exaggerated the last word, earning immediate attention from Mia. Her big eyes, getting even larger, lightning up like stars in the night sky. “Birds are their closest descendants.”

“No way!” She screamed in shock. “So - so Bunny is like a dinosaur?” 

Bunny was Mia’s favourite chicken from the farm. 

“Well, from what I’ve read about it, there is something called a phylogenetic tree. And birds are actually directly connected to dinosaurs based on the archeological reports, isn’t it exciting?”

“Yeah, but - but what is ar- archeo- that a word? What is it?” Mia stumbled over her words. 

“Archeology is the study of what was in the past. Archeologists are people that study it. They’re finding different things from years ago - from books to skeletons of animals and humans from thousands of years before us - and investigate. Do you understand?” 

Mia with eyes ready to pop off her head from amazement replied, “yes. It’s super fun!” She laughed. 

“Yes, it is! Do you want me to try and find you some books about archeology?”

“Yes, please. But -” she stopped, saddening abruptly. “I still learn how to read. Miss Woodens says I am falling behind my class.”

“It’s okay. I will help with it, yeah? We’ll read it after Wednesday’s and Friday’s classes, alright?” YN smiled at her.

Mia nodded her head happily, throwing her small arms around the older woman, hugging her tightly.

“Oh! Is it a huggin’ day?”

“Yes.”

Mia didn’t like hugging people. So after one incident when YN stupidly went in for a hug, earning a slap to her arm, they both established boundaries. Mia was the boss. In the beginning of each day she would say if it was a “huggin’ day” or not. Today was supposed to be a “high-five day” but somehow dinosaurs made Mia feel the need to hug her favourite teacher. 

“I’ll see you on Monday, okay? Try to practise your reading and spelling with Miss Brown back at home. I’ll tell her what stories you like.” YN brushed Mia’s hair away from her face. 

“She is not pat- patient with me. She says she has better things to do.”

The innocence and not full understatement of the situation on the little girl’s face, made YN’s skin burn with anger. How could a grown-up woman say something like this to a child that was struggling?

“Okay. Well,  I’ll talk to Miss Brown and Mr Kowalski and ask them if you could spend a weekend with me and Joel. Would you like that?”

“Yes! Yes, please. I - I drawed a picture for Joel today. Can I give it to him?”

Before YN could respond, the all too familiar voice from behind her spoken, “Joel would love to see that picture.”

“Joel!” Mia screamed and got up from the floor, running towards the older man, hugging him immediately. 

“A huggin’ day, huh?” Joel asked YN to which she nodded her head with a smile. 

Later that day, after YN had a rather unpleasant talk with Miss Brown - the orphanage director - complaining about her attitude towards little Mia, she was reading to Mia about dinosaurs. During the talk Miss Brown disowned any claims, calling the child a liar. YN knew she was going to have a talk with Maria about doing Miss Brown out of directing the orphanage. She wasn’t suited for the role of working with children. 

Mia was staying in the guest bedroom that Joel transferred to a kid’s room. Absent-mindedly, he and YN both knew the other's feelings towards little Mia. They loved her like their own. And it was a problem and a blessing all at once. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Dream of all the dinos you want,” YN whispered to almost asleep Mia, caressing her shoulder. “See you in the morning.”

She closed the door behind her and moved downstairs to help Joel tidy up after their game night. 

“Ellie went to sleep already?”

“What? No. She’s out with Dina. Apparently, her and Jesse broke up for good this time,” Joel chuckled at the end. 

“You think so?”

“No. But let the kids figure it all out. Part of growing up, ain’t it?”

She just smiled at him, starting to help pick up all the counters sprawled on the floor. 

“When did you trade so much for games?” Joel asked, after putting the last thing in the trunk for toys. 

“Ehh, over the last few weeks. I crocheted a few pieces for kids around town and parents brought games to trade. Tried to say no but no one listened really. Didn’t know we would enjoy them so much.”

They both sat down on the couch, cuddling. 

“Ellie loved Boggle.”

“I think she loved beating you up in it.”

“Yeah,” he laughed softly. “That’s it. Ain’t no love for an old man.”

“She loves you. I know she hasn’t said that but she does. You’re like a father to her.”

“I’d love to be,” Joel said shyly after a few minutes of silence. 

The last three years they’d spent in Jackson he had time to think about it. He accepted the fact that he was capable of love and embraced it. He used that word regularly towards YN - letting her know he did love her with his full heart. And in the last few weeks he started accepting another thing - parenthood. He’d never forgotten Sarah, he never could. At the same time, he knew he needed to allow other people inside. Especially that girl that was gettin on his nerves for years, saved his life numerous times and kept him alive when the best way out was a bullet to the head. She was like a daughter to him. 

And that little girl, Mia. The walking sunshine that she was, breaking down all the walls that Joel had built for strangers. She did that in a matter of minutes. “I like Joel. He likes YN so he is a good man.” That was enough for his lips to go down in a pout. 

“I was thinking,” Joel started. “The orphanage isn’t as well kept as Maria claimed.”

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow. My heart broke when Mia said what Brown had been telling her. How insensitive of her. I thought I was going to smack her when she said ‘that’s how you bring up kids in a broken world’. My blood boiled. I don’t know why she was chosen to direct it if she’s such a horrible person.” YN shook her head in disappointment. 

“What would you say about adopting Mia?”

She must have misheard. 

“Come again?”

“Adoption. What do you think about it? About us adopting Mia?”

YN sat up straight, looking directly at Joel. At once, she pressed her lips to his, kissing him hard. He didn’t get a moment to respond, because YN was running to the foyer, putting on her boots in a hurry. 

“What- what are you doing?” Joel got up slowly, cursing his knees. 

“I need to see Maria. See what paperwork, if any, is needed to fill. If we even require to do such a thing. Maybe, maybe she has some guidance for it. Maybe I need to bribe Brown. I don’t know. I need to see Maria,” YN was spilling the words frantically, almost falling over. 

“Hey, stop. Breathe, baby. It’s 11 pm. Maria is probably asleep by now,” Joel reasoned with his sister-in-law. 

“I don’t care. I’ll bake her something or do something else. I need to know.”

“YN,” Joel pressed, catching her gently by the wrist. “We’ll go there first thing tomorrow, okay?”

She sighed, “do you really want to adopt Mia?”

“Yes.”

She kissed him hard, making him stumble backwards. Joel embraced her tightly, returning the kiss with passion. 

“Then go to sleep. I’ll be right back.” 

And just like that she was out of the door, running up the street and leaving Joel hot, bothered and speechless. 

—

“Get off me! Get the fuck off me!”

—

“Can you help Ellie prepare all the things, Mia? I think she’d appreciate your help,” Joel encouraged the young girl. 

“Yeah, sure. Ellie!” She screamed, already running up the stairs. “Do you want help?”

“She’s screaming all the time, I’m gonna lose hearing in my good ear, I swear to God.” He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“It won’t be that bad,” YN answered her husband, chopping up the tomatoes for the salad. 

It was 26th of September - Joel’s 60th birthday. Together with YN, Joel decided to host a little gathering, just for family. Tommy, Maria and their little baby boy - Mauricio - were supposed to be there any minute. It was refreshing, being able to host a party for your birthday. Joel had thought he’d never be able to do that ever again. After all it was just a day before Sarah’s death anniversary - she had died mere hours into 27th of September 2003. For years, he didn’t celebrate. A taboo day. But with time - with time spent with YN - he learnt to love the day of 26th. And then on 27th he would talk reminiscently of Sarah - never daring the possibility of losing memories of her.

So that's how he was holding a barbeque for his family. His full family. 

“Did you start the grill?” YN asked. 

“Yeah, it’s running for about twenty minutes. I should start soon with all the food you prepared, sweetheart.”

“Probably. Well, I didn’t do it alone.”

“Mhm.” Joel left whatever he was doing and walked closer to YN, embracing her from behind. “Mostly alone. I’m more of a disturbance than a help.” He kissed her exposed shoulder. 

“That’s true. But I wasn’t thinking of you. Girls helped. Should thank them.”

“I will, but later.” 

Joel was leaving small kisses all over the naked skin of YN’s shoulders and neck. YN tried to shrug him off, “Jesus, Joel. Can you keep it in your pants for a moment?”

“It’s my birthday!” He defended, pinching her waist. 

“Ah!” She screeched, swatting his hands away. Unsuccessfully. “You’ve already gotten what you wanted in the morning.”

“Not enough. I could go one more round,” he whispered, being aware of the possibility of two girls eavesdropping (learning that the hard way). 

“Oh, could you?” YN asked, putting down the knife and turning in Joel’s embrace, now facing him.

“Absolutely.” He pecked her lips sweetly. 

“Well, keep it up for the evening.” She winked at him and moved away towards the back patio, where the party was supposed to be. 

Joel shook his head in disbelief, hanging it low. He chuckled, loving the way YN knew him and still was able to shock him in some moments. That’s why he married her just two years after settling down in Jackson. He would have done that way quicker but respected her boundaries and communicated with her. He decided to do everything just right, just perfect so she would stay with him for the rest of their lives. He believed it was going to happen, and it was far in the future to end. 

Their wedding was small. Mia was already theirs, Ellie had just turned 16 and YN the big 50. Their whole family started to become whole again and the cherry on top was him and YN getting married. Tommy decided to officiate the wedding, simultaneously being Joel’s best man. Ellie was YN’s maid of honour, even decided to wear a dashing suit to be ‘more elegant and fuccking put togehter’ as she said. It was beautiful. YN wore a yellow dress she made by herself and Joel traded some of his self-made wooden figurines for a three-piece brown suit. Mia was a flower girl, laughing like crazy when all the petals ended up in her hair. 

Joel cried that day. 

“I can’t believe you’ve agreed to marry me,” he sobbed into YN’s shoulder during their first dance. 

“I can. You’re my guardian angel, my love. There’s no future without you,” she answered, rubbing comfortingly on his back. 

Now it was two years later and he loved his life. Of course his demons didn’t leave him, he still had nightmares. He still had moments of over the top possessiveness and jealousy. He still couldn’t trust people easily. But it was getting better. He had a wife to discuss it with, to cry to, to love. He had family. 

“YN! Did you see Joel?” He heard Ellie asking. 

“He’s still in the kitchen.”

And a minute later he was greeted with awfully quiet and disturbingly shy looking Ellie and Mia. 

“What’s up girls?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“We -” Ellie started slowly, “- we wanted to give you something. Right, Mia?”

The younger girl just nodded her head, looking down. 

“Okay. Whenever you’re both ready.”

Mia took a deep breath and loudly exhaled, arched her arms before her, handling Joel white piece of paper that was folded in half. 

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, you two.” Joel smiled. “Can I hug you?”

“After you see it?” Mia prompted. “If you still want to then, it is.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to hug two of my three favourite girls?” Joel asked rhetorically, opening the paper. “Thank you for this.” 

Mia and Ellie holded their hands together, squeezing them hard. After all the both of them went through, that situation was the most stressful. Whatever was going to happen could possibly destroy everything they’d built over the last few years. 

“Dear you,

You’ve successfully been alive for more than most people. Congratulations! Thank you, that for the last four (two! ~Mia) years you’ve protected us. Thank you for looking after us and making us feel safe. Thank you for being for us even though lots of times you didn’t know what to do with us. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for existing. Thank you for saving our lives. Thank you for giving us a family. 

Thank you for loving us. 

We love you, dad. 

Your daughters, Ellie and Mia”

The smile that was on Joel’s face slowly started to disappear over the lines of the card, making the girls even more on edge. We love you. Tears gathered in his eyes, blurring his view. Dad. The lonely, salty droplet fell down his cheek and landed on the paper. Your daughters. He took a shaky breath in, sniffing. Ellie and Mia.

“I’m sorry,” Ellie spoke up. “If we overstep, we are sorry.”

“No, no, no. Please don’t. Don’t apologise.” Joel quickly silenced her, folding the paper, carefully placing it on the counter. “Can I - can I hug you both, please?”

After looking at themselves, Ellie and Mia fell into Joel’s tight embrace. With each girl on a shoulder, he held them like there was no tomorrow. The world stopped for a moment. 

“I love you both, so much. My daughters.”

—

“You’re gonna fucking die!” 

Everything was blurry. Everything smelled like blood and dirt. Everything was spinning. Everything hurted. Everything was dark. 

“Let him go!”

Was that her? It couldn’t be. His crooked skull was playing one on him. She couldn’t have been here. There could be no way. She couldn’t have been that stupid. Please, don’t let it be her. But opening the eyes was too hard, it was too painful. 

“Let him go!”

It must have been her. He would’ve recognised her voice everywhere. He heard it happy and joyful. He heard it in pain and sad. He also heard it angry and disappointed. It must have been her. 

“Joel, get up.”

It was her. Why was she here? Was she hurt? He needed to help her. He needed to set things right. He needed to - he needed to show her he cared. There was nothing else he cared more for. He needed to help her. 

Why was opening the eyes so hard? Why was there so much resistance to do so? You need to see her. Help her. He needed to try harder. Just a little more. The room was dark, but a strange blue light was covering her face. The cold floor was embracing his whole body, but he couldn’t feel much of it. The throbbing headache put things in his mind. 

“Jole, fucking get up.”

She was desperate. And scared. Why was she scared? He couldn’t remember hearing her like that once. Not when he told her the truth about the fireflies, not when she told him about Riley. Not even when she learnt how much terror Joel went through to keep her alive. She’d never let him know when she was this scared. 

Breath in.

“Please stop!” 

She was crying. 

She never cried in front of him. 

“Please don’t do this -” she sobbed. “Joel, please get up! Nooo!”

Breath out.

Relief. 

Everything stopped hurting.

It was over. 

And he was glad that his mind played him the movie of everything he’d deeply dreamed of. The movie of a happy family that he’d never deserved to experience. 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #tlou hbo

[earthstellar]

I was reading this post by @classychassiss and some good points are made-- I almost never see anyone talk about the Quintessons in the Aligned Continuity, but they play a very important role!

Quintus Prime and the Quintessons: Quick Context  for the Aligned Continuity

Where do the Quintessons come from?

When the Age of Primes ended, Quintus Prime left and sought to use the Emberstone on other worlds to create more species which could potentially become allies of Cybertron.

He reached Quintessa, where he created the Quintessons himself-- Who are believed to have then turned on him. It is implied that they may have killed Quintus Prime, but this is never outright stated.

Needless to say, this did not go well for anyone.

Why? Well...

Colonialism in Space: It Is Always a Bad Idea

So, of course, Quintessons are directly the result of more Primal hubris in this continuity.

But it’s interesting that we see colonialism and a sort of reverse-colonialism occur.

Quintus Prime went to a foreign planet as a being who is nearly outright a God himself, and in something resembling a “divine intervention”, created an entire species with the sole intent of making them to, in some capacity, serve a purpose for his own people.

This is a bad idea. The motivation behind creating an entire species of beings should not be “they can be useful for our own people”.

This is how you might approach making a toolset for a community workshop, not the way anyone should frame the creation of very much living, sentient life.

But this is also inherently a very coloniser mindset: “I will go to another place and massively, irrevocably change it in ways I feel will be good personally, in an attempt to benefit my own people. I see this place and its people as a potential tool.”

Did he consider what might be best for the planet Quintessa? How would introducing a new species affect the world itself? How would this impact any naturally developing life on this planet, even if he himself may not have immediately recognised it as “life”, as we know Cybertronians often struggle to value organic matter and lifeforms (and this attitude may well have extended to some of the Primes as well)?

Did he truly fully consider the implications of creating an entirely new race of beings? Did he have the means or ability with the Emberstone to inform their development beyond simply creating a lifeform that would then develop on its own, and if he did, to what degree did he manipulate the development of Quintessons (aside from bringing them into existence in the first place)?

Perhaps he believed that since he witnessed the creation of the Cybertronian people, that this could turn out the same way. But considering all the difficulty Cybertron had already been through by that time, was that ever a wise thing to believe? Was it ever sensible to think sentient life could be so easily made and worked out?

Throughout the Aligned timeline of Cybertron, we see that colonisation is a common element, and it leads to utter destruction EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Space Bridges and More Colonialism: Please Stop Colonising

As soon as Cybertronians developed the capability for interplanetary travel, they immediately started to explore.

Exploring is not inherently bad: It leads to further research and development of critical knowledge of the universe around you. It can inform everything from artistic creativity to scientific development. New discoveries could be genuinely revolutionary in many fields and with many potentially beneficial applications.

But we know that as soon as they learned enough to attempt colonising other worlds, they began to do so.

And in the process of fucking around and finding out, they discovered the Rust Plague.

The Rust Plague would have remained relatively isolated, had they not bridged bots from place to place (and planet to planet) with such aplomb that inevitably the plague spread as people attempted to flee afflicted colonies and abandon overwhelmed ships.

Their cavalier attitudes towards actively colonising every planet they could reasonably cyberform for their own use resulted in the ultimate destruction of their space bridges altogether in an attempt to spare Cybertron the same fate as countless others, thus cutting them off entirely from the stars they so fervently yearned for.

All that potential for valuable research and exploration lost, in the name of colonising.

By aiming at other worlds, they shot themselves.

Quintessons and Colonising: Nobody Learns Anything, Now Slavery Exists 

Naturally, as soon as they were capable of doing so, the Quintessons set out to colonise other worlds as well.

We can’t say that this wasn’t entirely predictable, as it seems most sentient lifeforms of all kinds in this universe have a desire to explore, even when they are not yet or no longer able to do so.

The thing about Quintessons, though, is that they don’t just love exploring.

They love slavery.

Quintus Prime created an entire species whose ultimate cultural export was the expansive development of an interplanetary slave network.

And when the Quintessons did eventually reach Cybertron, something Quintus Prime had hoped would benefit at least Cybertronians if not the Quintessons themselves as well-- We know how that turned out.

Cybertron and its population was enslaved.

And owing to the nature of the Cybertronian species, this slavery extended to extreme modifications of their bodies for uses as seen fit by the Quintessons.

The Quintessons explicitly wanted to diminish any sense of individuality that Cybertronians had-- A motivating factor for establishing what would become a strict class/caste system, to group bots in together based on physical characteristics that they likely altered further for this purpose (among others).

The Well of All Sparks itself was tampered with, the source of all Cybertronian life, to degrees that are not entirely known.

Cybertronians stopped coming forth from the Well with designations and no sense of self-identity, making it easier to stratify, alienate, and wholly manipulate them as a people. You get a number, you go over here, and this is your life now.

The establishment of Quintesson influence on Cybertron irrevocably altered the development and progression of Cybertronian society in every aspect, down to the people themselves, on a fundamental and often personally physical and mental level.

Simply put, the Quintessons did what the British Empire did: They found other people, set themselves in so fundamentally deeply that the environment, culture, and population itself was warped to their liking under their direct control, and everything from individual people to systems of government to the more core levels of societal development were skewed and manipulated for the central purpose of serving them in one form or another.

The Legacy of Quintesson Interference on Cybertron

We will never know what Cybertron may have developed as naturally, left to their own devices as a species.

Cybertronians themselves may not be able to identify any permanent or lingering changes brought about by the Quintessons, as these changes include alterations to the Well, and therefore they are “born” already altered. To what degree may be impossible to determine.

What changes were made, how extensively, how far have things and people deviated, can they even identify certain changes?

Orion Pax actively suppressed his memories of the occupation, to the degree that despite working with archives day in and out, he essentially entirely forgot about the entire species-wide ordeal. (Which also hints at potential information suppression in the archives...)  

We do know that Quintessons are the ones that introduced the concepts that would become the class/caste system on Cybertron.

They created a system of government which benefitted them, and continues on in a slightly modified form throughout all subsequent eras of Cybertron.

What is interesting is that we know some still-living bots were alive prior to the Quintesson occupation-- I cannot imagine the horror of watching this happen, seeing new bots created with no designations, no identity or sense of self, diminished to the point of being service machines.

We don’t have a lot of details on the broader implications and realities of what Quintesson occupation was like or how severe things truly became, because this is still a franchise intended for generally young audiences, and I’m not sure Hasbro is ready to discuss the evils of slavery with children-- Even though this and similar themes are often critical to the actual story and characters throughout the franchise as a whole.

I do wonder if bots created prior to the Quintesson invasion and occupation of Cybertron were subsequently modified by the Quintessons as well-- I would imagine this would be necessary for the Quintessons to achieve their goals, although the other alternative is that many bots were simply offlined if they were not compliant enough, or if any forcibly made alterations were deemed too complicated/difficult to carry out on any resistant bots.

This gets dark very quickly-- Again, it doesn’t surprise me that Hasbro probably backs down from going into any detail for a lot of reasons.

We know that a lot of frame alterations occurred, including the specifically noted alteration of bots with flight frames-- Which instantly adds another layer of body horror, as these modified flight capable bots would have had to carry Quintessons around inside of themselves, against their will.

Even on a basic level without any further information, that is some truly horrifying shit.

I find the alterations to the Well to be among the most disturbing; The very way they come alive has been fundamentally altered. Nobody knows the true extent of those modifications. The implications of this, both the ones we actually see and what we can infer, are completely terrifying-- And will potentially continue to affect the entire species for the rest of time. 

What Happened With the Quintessons Afterwards? Spoiler: The Colonisers Find Another Colony

And I do mean “find”, not “make”.

After the resistance on Cybertron built up enough to run the Quintessons off world, the Quintessons ultimately found an abandoned Cybertronian colony -- Aquatron -- and started making techno-organic lifeforms to subjugate.

On the up side, this does mean that merformers are canonically real, in one form or another.

On the down side, obviously this is fucked and evil, and once again, another world is added to the Quintesson Imperium-- Essentially, British Empire: Space Edition.

Was Quintus Prime Right? From D-16 to Megatron: Overcoming the Legacy of Oppression  

In the most obvious sense, no, Quintus Prime was not right.

The Quintessons did not “benefit” Cybertron-- Or really, anyone or anything else in the universe, either.

If we want to think about this in the sense of Quintus Prime being a Prime, and the fact that Primes seem to play a very, very long game (albeit with seemingly little understanding of how their ultimately desired goals might come about and how severely awful it might be/what the negative consequences of their actions could be)...

...It may be the case that if anything “good” came out of the Quintessons at all, it is that the Quintesson invasion of Cybertron was the catalyst for the development of a society so brutal and riddled with inequality that change was both necessary and inevitable. The world was forced to one day become what Quintus hoped it would be, due to the suffering which rained down upon it.

Which is completely and utterly fucked, and in fact, is not a “good” way to achieve this outcome to any degree.

Now, due to the obvious parallels to real life here, I want to make it very clear: There is no upside to oppression, occupation, colonialism, or slavery. Ever. I shouldn’t have to say this, but we live in hell, so I feel like I need to make this extremely, crystal clear. There is no “good” in this situation, either fictionally or in real life.

Quintus Prime was, in fact, wrong.

His intentions may have very well been “good” from his own relatively narrow point of view, but he completely and utterly failed to understand that his way of getting from Point A to Point B would result in the almost unbelievable suffering and destruction of not just the people he actually cared about-- Cybertronians--but also countless other species throughout their galaxy.

We should still look at what happened as the outcome of Quintus Prime’s fuckery, and I think it hints at how deeply fucked up the Primes actually are.

Understanding this Primal “long game” approach to things requires looking at Megatron in this continuity:

Megatron came forth from the well as D-16.

Remember that it is the Quintessons who altered the Well to churn out bots without designations or a sense of identity. Megatron was a victim of classism which itself was the product of slavery. Megatron was born as close to being a tool, and not a person, as they could possibly have made him.

He became a fully realised individual despite the most adverse situation in life possible, became a revolutionary figure that was necessary to set off much needed change--

--And even if this spiralled into eventual war and the near-destruction of Cybertron itself, would meaningful change have been able to occur any other way?

Or would Cybertronians have continued indefinitely in the post-Golden Era haze of classist, caste-based oppression with nothing to spurn the population into action? Nothing that could overcome the fear and fatigue of a battered people and encourage them to actively work towards a better, more egalitarian future?  

Was revolution, war, struggle, all strictly necessary?

I would say that if that is the case, then it is almost certainly primarily because of the damage caused by the Quintessons. And the Quintessons are the fault of Quintus Prime’s meddling, regardless of his intentions.

So much suffering would not have happened, or at least would not have happened to this extent and would not have manifested in this way, had the Quintessons not laid the foundations for it and built upon it.

While the past of Cybertron is staggeringly bleak, and the present in this continuity is extremely dire, the future of Cybertron may well finally see the planet (and it’s people) achieving what the Primes had hoped for them in the first place.

That having been said, getting to this ultimate future outcome has been an utter fucking misery beyond all miseries for both the planet and it’s people.

And honestly, we don’t know how Cybertron would have developed socially, politically, culturally, or otherwise-- The damage of the Quintesson oppression is so great that we can’t say if similar systems of oppression would have ultimately manifested on Cybertron in some form or another, even without Quintesson involvement.

But I think it’s very safe to say that it almost certainly would not have been to the extremes or in the exact forms that were forced upon people by the Quintessons.

Quintus Prime fucked up. Very, very badly. We can’t say what would have happened if he hadn’t created the Quintessons, but we do know what happened after he did in fact do so. And it was not good. 

The Fuckery of Primes: We Don’t Even Know How Bad It Is, Really

Primus, in theory, created the Primes to unify the various tribes of early Cybertronian peoples and to help cultivate the planet as a thriving entity for the sake of the then-developing species of Cybertronians.

Would Quintus Prime have had the forethought to imagine this potential path of events, would he have had the ability to understand what the outcomes of his actions would be? In and of himself, probably not.

But Alchemist Prime and Alpha Trion have, essentially, powers of future sight to some degree. We know that in at least two different continuities (Aligned and Cyberverse), these two Primes very much do play the “long game”.

We know that the Primes degraded over time, falling prey to their own biases and interpersonal issues. Unable to mediate amongst themselves any longer and unable to progress beyond severe trauma and loss born of their own infighting and lack of trust, they broke apart.

We don’t know what they may or may not have talked about with one another, or how they individually or collectively may have planned or attempted to plan for Cybertron’s further development in their absence.

We do know that there was some of this type of conversation happening, as most Primes are depicted as having influenced or had personal interest in at least their own respective tribes on Cybertron. They did, at one point, actually do their jobs and serve their intended purpose.

We also know that the Thirteenth Prime was notoriously the only one who would actively engage in a more consistently diplomatic way with the other Primes, and that he also engaged with the general Cybertronian population at the time in a more compassionate and direct capacity compared to the others-- And this is part of what was considered to make him so particular and special.

Which implies that at least past a certain point, the other Primes seemed to have withdrawn from the general population, while Thirteen did not.

As much as the Primes seem to have cared for Cybertronians, most of them don’t really seem to have engaged with the actual population very much-- At least not beyond the very early years.

Quintus’ Call: You Can’t Fix a Mistake With Another Mistake

Perhaps Quintus Prime attempted to create the Quintessons out of a realisation that he failed his purposes as intended by Primus, that he let his population down, and wanted to rectify this so desperately that he did not consider the full implications of creating a species with another species’ needs in mind.

If this is the case, it may be understandable, but in no way excusable, that he proceeded as he did.

The Emberstone is his personal artefact, imbued with life-giving powers implied to have been gifted to him by Primus in order to help him serve his purpose as a Prime. He failed in this purpose, and may have felt that utilising the Emberstone was a critical part of his efforts to essentially repent for how the Primes had fallen apart and abandoned their people and their world.

Again, understandable, especially given the distress we know the Primes were all in at the time when they fell apart and away from each other. 

Understandable, not excusable.

People make bad decisions when under duress and emotionally fraught, and we know that the Primes are certainly not immune to this.

But Quintus Prime’s power to give life is extraordinarily powerful, and carries a significant burden of responsibility.

You do not create life on a whim-- But that is what Quintus Prime did, in a moment riddled with grief, stress, fear for the future, and a sense of personal failure. 

The result of this, seemingly predictably, was horrendous. He may not have been able to see past his own turmoil by this point, or perhaps leaving Primes to their own devices is inherently not a good idea. 

Either way: His decision to create the Quintessons not only led him further into breathtaking failure to fulfil his intended duties as a Prime, but led to the destruction and loss of countless others. 

And this would have been impossible without the Emberstone. 

Primal Artefacts: The Emberstone

The ultimate outcome was such staggering destruction, loss, and suffering that I wonder if the Emberstone didn’t pick up on his feelings or state of mind during the creation of the Quintessons, and forged them from a place of inherent discontent.

We know Primal artefacts have the potential to react strangely and seemingly with some degree of awareness that operates beyond the Prime that wields them. 

Alpha Trion’s pen writes in languages nobody yet speaks, that he himself cannot yet read.

To what degree does the Emberstone potentially have something resembling sentience? 

What is the nature of the power gifted by Primus? It seems to vary from item to item and individual to individual, at least among the Primes. 

But we do not know how the Emberstone actually goes about producing life. We don’t know how it works, or what any implications of its function might be. 

Does Quintus himself know? Or it it an assumed, innate power to him? Something at least partially instinctive on some level, so familiar to him that perhaps such a casual use of it may not be so surprising? 

We don’t know. 

But I think the Emberstone itself is fascinating; It has some of the greatest power imaginable, to create living beings. To will a species into existence, to forge sentience. 

The only other things or beings we see actually produce complex, sentient life are Primus and the Well of All Sparks. 

We know that the Primes came about as unique individuals with unique abilities, intended to work together for the better of their world. 

Things did not work out as intended. Some events are unpredictable, and some outcomes are beyond anyone’s power. 

But we know very, very little about what power the Primes do actually have, really, in terms of their extent of application or how they work or why they work or anything else. 

The one we know the most about is Alpha Trion, and his Quill. 

But even then, things remain esoteric. Alpha Trion has foresight and the ability to alter events to some degree by literally editing and changing the narrative of life in real time and in future tense. 

Yet even Alpha Trion could not see the death of Solus Prime, and had withdrawn enough by that time to have no inkling of the real depth of Megatronus’ discontent. He did not expect the betrayal of Liege Maximo. 

There are clear limitations, when it comes to the Primes as people. 

The artefacts themselves, while connected to their respective Primes, seem to very well have their own thing going on at the same time-- As independently operating esoteric items of power. 

All of this is to say, how much of the Quintessons are the fault of Quintus Prime’s personal hubris, and how much of it is the will of the Emberstone, if it does in fact have individual will? 

Can the Emberstone influence Quintus, in return? To what degree, if so? 

Something to think about. 

--

Phew, this was a long post-- Thank you to anyone who’s bothered reading (or even skimming) all of this! :) <3 

I haven’t had much time to edit, so I apologise for any errors, repetition, etc. 

But I’ve wanted to talk about the Quintessons in the Aligned Continuity for some time, and I figured this was a good time to throw a bunch of my thoughts on it together-- Especially as we know Quintus is involved in the Earthspark Continuity as well. 

(Also, I couldn’t find any Aligned Continuity illustrations of Quintessons, so I’ve used the classic G1 Quintesson Judge here.)

#quintesson #quintessons #quintessa #maccadam #maccadams #long post #transformers analysis #analysis post #aligned continuity #tfp #Transformers Prime #quintus prime #alpha trion #thirteen primes

[transmascpetewentz]

I really want to know, why does it bother you so much that there are cis gay men in the world who do not want to have sex with afab people? it triggers your dysphoria and makes you feel bad, I gather that much, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t entitled to their sexual boundaries.

especially when there are countless posts made by gay people that are talking about same sex attraction that get dog piled by trans people feeling excluded, when they just are inherently excluded from some peoples sexual attraction.

gender and sex are different yes? and sexuality is based on sex. this seems to be something we disagree on. trans men are men, they have the right to live as themselves and transition, but they are still trans. not everyone is going to be sexually attracted to them, or have them included in their sexuality, especially people who are single sex attracted. I want to know what’s transphobic about this.

your crusade to get cis people to accept any genitals in a partner is actively driving a wedge in the lgbt community, I would like to understand your perspective beyond “this makes my dysphoric, I feel excluded, therefore I will create the term TEHM and make these people into villains on tumblr.com”

I ask this out of curiosity, I am interested to hear what your takes are in one place since it’s hard to find your whole POV across multiple posts. We don’t agree and probably won’t ever agree, but I hope you can see where I’m coming from and I hope I can do the same for you.

I was going to delete this ask, but this is the most politely that one of you has come into my inbox. I don't have the energy to write up anything that long about the subject but I'll try my best.

As I have stated many, many times, I don't care if an individual cis gay man doesn't date or fuck trans men. I really don't. The problem arises when cis gay men claim that they cannot be attracted to trans men, or that their supposed lack of attraction to us makes us any less male or any less gay.

A cis gay man making a blanket statement about never wanting to date/fuck a trans man in specific is like an allistic person loudly proclaiming that they would never date/fuck an autistic person, or a white person saying they would never be with a POC. While their individual choices don't matter, their "preferences" reveal that they are bigots.

"Trans men are men" is incompatible with the idea that gay men cannot be attracted to us. Hell, I'm a gay man, and I love my fellow trans men. If a gay man truly sees trans men as men, he will have the capacity to be attracted to us. The idea that sexuality is based on sex can be easily debunked by many examples of cis gay men dating and fucking trans men, as well as the fact that we have documented evidence of so-called "I'm only attracted to biological males!!!" type of men unknowingly fucking stealth trans men.

Now onto my more important point, the issue with TEHMs is not that they embarrass themselves by making a huge display about how they're so obsessed with hating boypussy, but that they try to claim that their own lack of attraction to trans men means that we should not be included in gay male spaces.

Not every cis gay man is going to be included in the attraction of every other cis gay man, but we don't see fem4fem cis gays claiming that masc cis gays don't belong in our spaces, do we? But because trans men are treated like shit even by other queer people, no one comes to defend us.

And as for posts that talk about "same sex attraction" being dogpiled by trans people, yeah, they deserved that. Gay trans men and transfem lesbians experience homophobia, and the vast majority of experiences that TEHMs call "SSA experiences" apply to us. Gay trans men are a very diverse group of people with very different experiences and daily lives from each other.

I also did not coin "TEHM." It was coined in 2017 by another Tumblr user who I don't remember the username of.

And before you go "but what about cis gay men who are trans allies who just aren't attracted to them 🥺" and to that I say, please show me someone. I have yet to meet a cis gay man who claims to have a genital preference or who says he would never fuck boypussy, who is also a trans ally. They all end up going mask off immediately. And so many of them try and make their subconscious biases that make them believe trans men are unattractive my problem.

It's true that we probably won't ever agree on this, especially if you're cis. If you're trans, I wish you the best of luck overcoming your internalized transphobia, and my blog will be waiting for you when that time comes. You seem to misunderstand the problem that I and other gay trans men have with TEHMs, and it comes from the bias that we're just entitled women who want to fuck gay men.

Obviously, when a gay trans man calls out bigotry, he can't ever have a point 🙄 it must just be someone refusing to play along with his fetish! (sarcasm)

#asks #long post #transandrophobia

[yallemagne]

Everyone: "Man, how does Van Helsing know so much about Dracula and vampires?? Must be a personal connection between him and the Count."

Me: *pulling my hair out trying to rewrite the September 30 meeting scene* "IF YOU ACTUALLY FUCKING READ HIS MONOLOGUE TWENTY TIMES OVER YOU WOULD KNOW HE KNEW NONE OF THIS INFORMATION PRIOR TO THE STORY."

Maybe not none. But. Let me just. Most of the shit he says is filler. "Let me tell you, it's gonna be fucking spooky" is what he says like fifty times over in twenty words or more each time.

"Alas! Had I known at the first what now I know—nay, had I even guess at him—one so precious life had been spared to many of us who did love her."

Van Helsing says that if he knew all the info he's about to dump on us about vampires, they could have saved Lucy. Meaning he didn't know jack shit. He most certainly didn't know who Dracula was.

"Even friend Jonathan, who lived with him for weeks, did never see him to eat, never! He throws no shadow; he make in the mirror no reflect, as again Jonathan observe. He has the strength of many of his hand—witness again Jonathan when he shut the door against the wolfs, and when he help him from the diligence too. He can transform himself to wolf, as we gather from the ship arrival in Whitby, when he tear open the dog; he can be as bat, as Madam Mina saw him on the window at Whitby, and as friend John saw him fly from this so near house, and as my friend Quincey saw him at the window of Miss Lucy. He can come in mist which he create—that noble ship's captain proved him of this; but, from what we know, the distance he can make this mist is limited, and it can only be round himself. He come on moonlight rays as elemental dust—as again Jonathan saw those sisters in the castle of Dracula. He become so small—we ourselves saw Miss Lucy, ere she was at peace, slip through a hairbreadth space at the tomb door."

Then finally he starts saying things that he may have already known since he cites no specific examples: night vision, requiring invitation, no power in the daytime, the sunrise and sunset bit, etc.. He does cite an example of what "unhallowed ground" vampires can enter uninvited, but that's just to illustrate his point. But then he talks about his friend Arminius.

"I have asked my friend Arminius, of Buda-Pesth University, to make his record; and, from all the means that are, he tell me of what he has been. He must, indeed, have been that Voivode Dracula who won his name against the Turk, over the great river on the very frontier of Turkey-land. If it be so, then was he no common man; for in that time, and for centuries after, he was spoken of as the cleverest and the most cunning, as well as the bravest of the sons of the 'land beyond the forest.' That mighty brain and that iron resolution went with him to his grave, and are even now arrayed against us. The Draculas were, says Arminius, a great and noble race, though now and again were scions who were held by their coevals to have had dealings with the Evil One. They learned his secrets in the Scholomance, amongst the mountains over Lake Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due. In the records are such words as 'stregoica'—witch, 'ordog,' and 'pokol'—Satan and hell; and in one manuscript this very Dracula is spoken of as 'wampyr,' which we all understand too well."

Van Helsing is really just like me for real oh my god. He sounds like me after just having gone on a Wikipedia binge. He knew absolutely nothing about Dracula before, and he really wants to capitalize on all the new shit he just learned.

"We know from the inquiry of Jonathan that from the castle to Whitby came fifty boxes of earth, all of which were delivered at Carfax; we also know that at least some of these boxes have been removed. It seems to me, that our first step should be to ascertain whether all the rest remain in the house beyond that wall where we look to-day; or whether any more have been removed. If the latter, we must trace——"

*gunshots* Anyway.

More fucking fuel for the stop fucking painting him and Dracula as mortal enemies fire. He's literally just an old man who reads a lot, he's not a badass vampire hunter, Dracula didn't kill his gf or some shit, and he's probably never successfully dealt with a vampire before. Also, more ammo for my if you deny Jonathan's importance to the story one more time-- gun.

#picturing Jonathan trying to dissociate during Van Helsing's monologue and jumping each time VH says his name #Jonathan: yeayeayea we know we all know my trauma so intimately can we not #VH: of course. one more thing-- #dracula #dracula daily #rant??? #who knows #abraham van helsing #van helsing #also just?? #VH: Dracula is super smart he's a tactician-- he's also a baby with a widdle baby brain bc only the mentally handicapped commit crimes #which one is it abe

[harrytheehottie]

THE FIVE TIMES YOU KNEW LOVE ON TOUR SCRAPBOOK

thank you for creating this fun challenge @harrystylesgotmefuckedup and to @oh-honey-styles for tagging me <3

1) Which tour stop was your favorite?

London is always the best because it’s home. I also loved Tokyo, Harry went there a few years back and always talked about it and it was sweet to see the city from the POV of someone who loves it so much. We had a few days off before and after the shows so we were able to play tourists which is always fun. 

2) Tour fits! Which was your number one?

Hmmmm… this is hard but the last Wembley show. Heart overalls with no shirt. Delicious.

3) Harry's performed numerous covers on tour. If you had to choose, which has been his best for you? Which song would be a dream cover?

Hopelessly Devoted. I tried to get him to do Summer Lovin’ or really lean into the Danny Zucko of it all and go full Grease Lightin' but luckily for me - I still got what I wanted just a little bit after the show.

4) Lucky you, you've got access to any piece of Harry's merch you'd like. What are you choosing?

Our custom gazelles. That was my idea! It started with the custom final show shirts from the 2018 tour and now every end of tour run he comes up with something unique to give to all the band and crew.

5) Choose your favorite bathroom sign from Love on Tour

Kiwee. I still use it to this day!

6) Which opening act has been your favorite?

Wolf Alice! That was a special request from me - I showed Harry their music back in 2016. If I had a choice they’d be the openers from the very start.

7) You can add any of Harry's songs to the set list from any of his past albums. Which one?

Ever Since New York. You should've seen my reaction when he played it on NYC Night 15. He didn't give me any heads up. I was floored.

8) What are your very own essentials for being away from home on tour?

My work computer and film camera.

9) What's Harry like on tour? Any memorable moments, favorite crowd interactions?

I've been lucky enough to be with Harry through every tour in his career even through the tail end of the band. And I can honestly say this is the most relaxed I have ever seen him on a tour. He has his schedule down to a science. He wakes up in the morning after letting himself have a 'lie-in' (usually is up by 9 which to me is not a lie in but for a man who usually wakes up at 6 it is) we have breakfast together always. It’s a must. And then he’s off to the arena by mid-day while I work but I always make sure to get to the arena early so we can watch the opener together. And then I give him his space to do his ~rituals~ and watch the show from the back or the bleachers. One fun fact that not many would know is as soon as he gets out of a show and back to the hotel or home it’s straight to the treadmill to perform the show through one more time. So it’s a good 90 minutes before he’s in bed again. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

10) In honor of Harry's 30th birthday: Harry played at Acrisure Arena in Thousand Palms, CA on his 29th birthday. Aside from the show, how did the two of you celebrate?

This was nice because I didn’t have to actually plan the party! We had an afters at the arena filled with lots of cake from Hansen’s. We snuck into the golf course at the Madison once we got back to where we were staying - a very drunk yet memorable decision.

this was so fun ❤️ im going to upload more of this story but it’s nice to just see them through the years this way as well. tagging @didhewinkback @for-fucks-sake-h @gucciwins @andwhenshesays @harry-on-broadway @hslllot 🤪 and honestly anyone who writes and want to do one of these !!!!

#tftyk #love on your scrapbook #this was so fun M! and thank you for tagging me Anne 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽 #please do this it’s fun 😇