🧡 Weekly Tag Wednesday - New Year’s Edition 🧡
From the Diary of Virginia Woolf: January 2, 1931:
Here are my resolutions for the next 3 months; the next lap of the year. To have none. Not to be tied. To be free & kindly with myself, not goading it to parties: to sit rather privately reading in the studio. Sometimes to read, sometimes not to read. To go out yes—but stay at home in spite of being asked. As for clothes, to buy good ones.
Tagged by the lovely @deedala @darlingian @creepkinginc @lingy910y @mybrainismelted @ardent-fox @lupeloto @heymacy @rereadanon @energievie @tanktopgallavich
🧡 Name: Michelle. Mys for short. Myska for medium.
🧡 Location: London
🧡 Astrological Sign: >fishy
🧡 What's a TV show or movie you plan to re-watch this year? Less a plan and more an inevitability. The Office, The Good Place, Superstore, Kim’s Convenience, and Schitt’s Creek are basically always on a rewatch loop. Also we’re podcasting Shameless Season 4 and 5 in 2024, and Buffy Season 6 and Season 7. And Shadowhunters Season 3. And I actually really fancy rewatching School of Chocolate.
🧡 Whats a book or fic you will probably re-read this year? The usual suspects. There is a looong list of re-readable fic HERE. And I would very much like to get back into reading real paper books… 😬
🧡 What is a song you will likely continue to play on repeat? Gasoline by Halsey, Like Real People Do by Hozier, Bullet with Butterfly Wings by The Smashing Pumpkins
🧡 What's a tasty treat you look forward to eating more of this year? Bread. Gluten makes my tummy hurt, but I love it so very much. What can you do, eh?
🧡 What's a time sink that you will continue to sink time into this year? Tumblr.
🧡 Did you pick up any habits in 2023 that you plan to continue? Spending too much money on bath bombs. Learnt it from Ruth. Am 100% planning to continue flying that flag!
🧡 What's your toxic trait? I’m a petty, passive-aggressive bitch. If you piss me off I’ll hide your socks. 🤷🏽♂️
🧡 What is a coping mechanism you will continue to indulge in this year? Crying.
🧡 Tell me something you like about how you look! My eyes are pretty. My nose is cute. I have fun hair and cool scars, many with good stories.
🧡 Give me at least three adjectives describing things you like about yourself. Funny. Generous. Great at thinking on the fly, problem solving, and problem prevention.
I am sooooo late, but if you haven’t done this yet I choose you ::throws pokeball:: @crossmydna @captainjowl @mickeygifs @mikhailoisbaby @whatthebodygraspsnot @rutherinahobbit @redshirt2 @the-rat-wins @too-schoolforcool @tsuga-of-mars @ian-galagher @crestfallercanyon @palepinkgoat @depressedstressedlemonzest @faejilly @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx (oh, and if you did already do this then please tag me in yours, so I can read it <3 )
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I might have said this before but the nature of the iterator’s very existence is honestly horrifying. They do not die easily, and that is an understatement. Even in submerged superstructure, as the rain approaches, Moon’s siren still wails, with no one to alert but herself of her impending fate. A siren, crushed beneath hundreds of millions of pounds of water and metal, is still functional, screaming for no one. In the Saint campaign, parts of Pebbles’ structure are still active, producing steam and heat deep within despite being mangled beyond recognition, despite being fucking eaten alive. Do you think Sliver endured the same? No Significant Harassment? Suns? Chasing Wind? Without proper maintenance, it’s inevitable, and all they can do is sit idly and listen to their structures creak and groan, wondering when they’ll come crashing down.
An iterator’s death is not swift, it is agonizing, a drawn out whimper, a last punishment for daring to defy their creators. They weren’t designed to transcend, and it drives them mad.
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Where You Go, I'll Follow
tags: cowboy au, Soap x reader, miscommunication, actually zero communication, fluff, apologies, making up, Soap being the best boyfriend, if you run I'll chase you energy
Summary: You're used to this dance: Soap wants to see you so he texts you something stupid, you want to see him so you block him, he comes to see you in person to ask you to talk to him. It's a well worn path, and it works surprisingly well, but only when everyone knows what they're doing. (This fic performed in a closed course by professionals, do not attempt in your own dating life)
You stare at your phone, fingers hovering over the unblock button next to Soap's name. It's been a few hours since your last message, you're sure he's sent more. Usually you wouldn't have to wonder he'd be here pinning you to a wall or swiping some little trinket that forces you to unblock him and demand it back. You lock your phone, squeeze your fingers together, and try not to be upset that he's respecting a boundary.
Maybe he just got busy and couldn't spare the time to chase after you. Which is ridiculous, he shouldn't be chasing after you, and it's good that he isn't. This is good. This was bound to happen eventually when he lost interest so it's good that it's happening on your terms.
Your heart squeezes tight in your chest.
He's been busy before and shown up with mud caking his boots and dirt under his nails. He's shown up still carrying a piglet. Shown up in the wee hours of the morning, shown up late at night, shown up, and shown up, and shown up for you. All because you'd stopped texting him, he took it upon himself to say his words in person. He always has to get the last word in, even after you'd blocked him.
So where is he?
He must be tired of you. Tired of chasing after you when you're such a horrible choice. Not a first choice, not even a second choice, hell you would be hard pressed to be a third choice. It's good that Soap's gotten his little joke out of his system and you can go back to how things were before he started chasing you.
You tug your truck door open and stick the keys in the ignition. You- you don't really have a plan here. You'll figure it out when you see him, you just have to see him. Maybe you'll curse him out for fucking with you for so long(for making you think he cared about you). Goose would probably let you get a few punches in before she intervened, she's a good friend like that. Yeah, you'll figure it out when you get there.
Except you haven't figured out shit by the time you pull up in front of the Price family home. You grip your steering wheel tight and bang your head against it a few times. You should go. You shouldn't have even come here. It's pathetic, chasing after a man that clearly doesn't want you. Have you learned nothing?
You conjure up some anger to cover your upset and storm into the house. Soap, predictably is sitting on the couch chatting with Gaz. He sits up straighter when you slam the door and he makes eye contact with you. You go to stand in front of him, his legs spread wide on either side of you and his face blank. He raises a brow like he doesn't know why you're here. Why are you here?
"You didn't come find me," You frown, squeezing your hands into fists. Your nails dig into your palms. Soap stares up at you. Gaz silently gets up, and heads towards the kitchen.
"You told me to fuck off, only so many times a man can be told no before he gets the point." He tells you. You feel your lip wobble a little, your throat tight looking into his eyes. He feels impossibly far from you, despite you standing between his knees. He looks at you like there's a wall between you, something that you couldn't break down even if you tried. Something in your throat stings, and spiderwebs across your chest.
"You always come find me," Your voice breaks on the small hiccup that signals tears are on their way, and Soap's face falls. His hands rush to hold your hips, thumbs soothing against your shirt, his voice soft as he pulls you closer.
"Oh no, no, hen don't cry," He shushes you as you wipe at your eyes quickly, try to maintain your frown around the wobbly pout that's quickly formed. "Am sorry, am here, you found me," He pulls one of your hands from your face and kisses your fingers, his eyes gentle as he watches you, "Am naw goin' anywhere."
"You always come after me," You press, feeling the dam break as tears fall down your cheeks. Soap makes a soft pained noise, and tugs you down onto his lap, hooking an arm under your legs to settle you more comfortably. He cups your cheek, kisses your forehead.
"Ah know pet, am sorry," His voice feels warmer when you push your face against his shoulder, his hands softer where they touch you, "ah should've come to find ya, ya must've been worried." You hum, and curl your legs towards your chest to fit more of yourself in the circle of his arms. Soap rubs your back, soothing as he murmurs assurances. "You know if you want to see me you can just ask," He whispers against the shell of your ear.
"Cringe," You mumble, your mouth against his throat. He hums, and you enjoy the vibration of it under you lips.
"Just wanted ta offer," You can hear the humor in his voice, the understanding, "Hard askin' for things, eh hen?" You don't bother answering him, you both already know that. You can't invite him over so you do the next best thing, and force him to come find you. He always does.
He always will.
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