#i had a shitty day and a weird mental week

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Take me.

Note: a tiny little story to help with the drought😮‍💨

Warnings: 18+! fluff/smut.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: you and Sihtric were reunited after a battle. 

wordcount: 653

Masterlist

Sihtric's mismatched eyes were glazed over. His lips curled into a dazed smile while his rough, warm hands wandered your bare skin as you laid underneath him. His body weight pleasantly pressed onto you as he was positioned between your thighs. His hair was dishevelled, after your fingers had tugged his braids when you felt the warmth of his lips onto yours, kissing you intensely and deeply until he had you undressed and picked up in his arms, carrying you to the bed.

The warrior had missed you, his wife, immensely when he had been away to fight what would be unbeknownst to you both his last battle, for peace was within close range. As soon as he had returned home on horseback and his eyes had landed on you in the cheering crowd, he dismounted and allowed you to leap into his arms. You had buried your face in his neck and your fingers curled around his leather armour. Sihtric; your husband, your sanctuary and the keeper of your heart had returned to you without any grave injuries, and no more time was wasted. No words were spoken for your eyes told each other everything one needed to know, and your lips immediately locked into a fiery kiss, pouring out the happiness and relief of being reunited again.

And now Sihtric gazed down into your eyes as he was on top of you, unclothed and scarcely covered by the warm furs. His hot, ragged breath feelable on your face while his tattooed fingers tenderly brushed over your warm cheeks. He then leaned in and kissed softly underneath your ear, his tongue stroking your skin in between teasing kisses and kittenish nibbles, dragging his lips down to your pulse point. Your breath hitched when he sank his teeth delicately in your neck, marking you with his endless love while he teased your folds with his arousal, readying you to take him after being separated for far too long.

His growls sounded low and heavy in your ear, making you tremble with anticipation and desperate to feel him inside you and to be as close as you can possibly be, never wanting to let him leave you ever again. You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his neck, inhaling his earthly scent as he lifted your leg and hooked it around his waist.

'I missed you,' he breathed in your ear and bit the soft skin.

'And I missed you,' you murmured against his shoulder, 'I love you.'

'I love you more,' Sihtric whispered, to which you softly protested.

He chuckled in your ear, and you gasped when he abruptly sheathed inside you and kept still, wanting to feel your walls clench around him. You mewled, desperately, begging him to move. But Sihtric took pleasure in hearing you beg for him and he wanted to hear more before he would give you what you wanted.

'Please, Sihtric,' you rasped, 'give me more.'

'More?' he laughed quietly, his lips grazing your ear as he spoke while he moved with slow, deep strokes, 'you want more?' he murmured.

'Please,' you begged and clawed his muscular back.

'Please,' Sihtric mocked, lovingly, 'you're so sweet when you beg for me,' he whispered and pushed hard inside you.

He stilled inside you again and hummed softly, watching you with a satisfied grin as you almost cried out for him.

'So beautiful,' Sihtric whispered, smiling, and he pecked your lips, 'so desperate for me,' he kissed your lips again, then grabbed your chin and his eyes darkened, 'I will give you more, my love,' his voice soft and playfully threatening, 'but I don't want to hear you whine that it's too much. I know you can handle me,' he murmured against your lips and chuckled again, 'mhm, and you will take me all the way, like the good and devoted wife that you are for me.'

taglist: @foxyanon @alexagirlie @sihtricsafin @neonhairspray @gemini-mama @lexwolfhale @sigtryggrswifey @skyofficialxx @djarinsgirl27 @m-a-s-h-k-a @verenahx @mrsarnasdelicious @diiickbrainn @little-diable @maii777 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dixie-elocin @elle4404 @bubblyabs @ylvie50 @succnfuccubus @hb8301 @willowbrookesblog @apolloanddaphnis

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#i had a shitty day and a weird mental week #i am going to rearrange my furniture now before i go insane #this may be the only fic i'll post until next week #i'm really struggling atm no matter how badly i want to write.. it's just not working out #surprised i managed to get this written tbh #anyway #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric #sihtric x you #sihtric x reader #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #idk what the planets are doing rn but can they stop making me feel awful and hating everything i write #and can my adhd demon stop lurking bc i am exhausted. it's that time were even my meds are not working well enough at moments #maybe i need a break #maybe i need a good [censored] #who knows #just make it stop i beg 🥲 #and also those posts that are going around again about reblogs vs likes??? #yeah that's a real mood #part of my struggle atm is hugely influenced by the lack of interaction lately and i hate that it affects me #i just really feel like my writing is shit lately and am constantly comparing it to others #not to be a cry baby lmao i'm just *deep sigh* feel like i'm losing it?????

[jedi-bird]

My partner is off to the office soon to play online games with their friends. I had planned to write a bit, or at least try to. But honestly? This day has sucked and I'm emotionally exhausted. I think I'll just go to bed way too early and deal with waking up in the middle of the night when it happens. Tomorrow will either be better or worse but that's future me's problem. Current me no longer gives any fucks.

#vent post #this hasn't been the worst week of my life but it's been pretty shitty #tornado hit near my house the other day #we got lucky and only had some really strong wind and thunder but it was closer than I'd like #my cat died and another is acting weird tonight and i really don't want to have to go back to the vet already #I'm going to give her some kitty electrolytes tomorrow and some recovery food that's been recommended and see how she does #i was late to my appointment today and I'm not sure how i feel about this doctor #they didn't really listen to me but they at least partially listened to my partner #they did however send my for lab work to test for everything which is nice #but also sucked because i wasn't mentally and physically prepared for a blood draw and now i feel like crap #I'm glad i got it out of the way today because it gives me less time to be anxious about it but also it sucks #dropped off our tax papers and I'm fully expecting a phone call tomorrow because i think i missed one #picked up dinner tonight as a treat and decided to try something new and couldn't eat it #it wound up being so spicy i got sick #so now my stomach is messed up on top of everything else #things will get better but it's hard to see it right now #maybe some sleep will help #maybe I'll get lucky and won't dream

[queenimmadolla]

drabbles! how about reader and eddie telling penny and wayne theyre expecting maple?

𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐦!𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 (don't have to read but you'll want to)

“I’ll tell them. It’s fine.” Your voice sounds so defeated over the phone and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hates it, hates that he’s the reason for it. 

  Here he is, telling you everything’s gonna get better, that the two of you will be okay—that your family will be okay, and already he’s had to let you down. 

  After a particular nasty fight that led to a comforting tryst, you were pregnant again. Giving Eddie his third baby. And all he’s given you lately is disappointment.

  “This leg is just three weeks, baby.” He promises, voice urgent because you have to believe him. Things have gotten shitty between the two of you but Eddie’s determined to change them, needs you to know that, “I’ll make it home on our off days.”

  But he won’t be home when you’re telling his kids they’re getting another sibling. It’s fucked. And he wants to argue, tell you to just wait until he gets back in town this week—but the thing is, even though he’s promising and desperately hoping he’ll be able to make it, it would be just his luck for something to happen at the last minute.

  He wants to punch a wall until his bones tear through the skin of his knuckles.

  “Okay, Eds.” Still defeated, but you don’t sound like you hate him, a change from recent phone conversations and you’re short with him so he knows you don’t want to talk to him for much longer.

  He does take a few moments, eyes still shut as he hones in on your breathing. Trying to imagine you right next to him instead of thousands of miles away.

   “I know things aren’t as pleasant as we want them to be. I swear to god, they’re gonna change. I’m not losing you. I’m not. I love you, baby.” He whispers, voice low and raspy. He’s fully expecting the love you, too followed by dial tone, so Eddie practically starts silently weeping when he gets more than that.

   “I love you, too, Eddie.” It doesn’t sound distant, as though you were already mentally out of the conversation. You’re still present for it, and it doesn’t sound like a weight on you. 

  The dial tone doesn’t come, you’re waiting for Eddie to end the phone call. A change.

  With a faint sniffle, and after a few more moments of comforting silence, he does.

  You hang the phone back on the receiver then pad over to the living room. The tv is on, some animated film displayed on the screen that manages to hold your children’s attention. Not much could do that as of late.

  “You guys got a minute?” You ask, making yourself comfortable on one end of the couch. Your five year-old son, Wayne, moves over to you and practically wraps your arms around him as he cuddles into your side. 

  Penny mutes the TV with the remote and you know you have their full attention.

   “I know things have felt a little weird lately, but I don’t want you to think it’s a bad thing, okay? Things are just changing.”

   “Like what?” Penny asks, giving you the perfect opportunity. This has to be a good, has to be a positive thing happening for them even though you had no idea how to feel yourself. 

  “Like the amount of troublemakers under my roof.”

  Penny’s gasp is loud and dramatic, eyes wide in excitement as she immediately catches onto your meaning. 

  “ARE YOU GONNA HAVE A BABY?!”

  Wayne’s face is the opposite of Penny’s, mouth wide open and looking downright offended with the level of side-eye he’s giving you. His top lip is curled in disgust, gums and teeth on display. You would have thought you’d just stolen his childhood instead of just telling him you’re pregnant.

  Oh, boy.

  At least, you’d have something funny to break the ice with when Eddie called in a few hours.

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader angst #dilf!eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanction #stranger things 4 #stranger things vol 2 #stranger things vol 1 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson blurb #girl dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson #mom!reader #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #pennyverse #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #Rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader

[ladamedusoif]

able

(Joel Miller x disabled F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Content/warnings: Reader is disabled (she has rheumatoid disease/arthritis in addition to panic attacks, she uses a walking stick as necessary); Reader had a sister; Reader is an art teacher; strong violence; blood; description of panic attack; references to impact of chronic illness and disability; references to medication; references to disease and death; non-canon compliant; Jackson!Joel; strong language; ableist language and abusive language

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Word Count: ~3.7k

A/N: After making a plea earlier in the week for people to actually write disabled Reader fic, as opposed to forcing writers to feel they have to tag literally everything in an able-bodied Reader story, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was as a disabled, neurodivergent writer with various mental health things going on here and there. And this one-shot is the result.

This one is a little personal. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease about ten years ago, and Reader’s experiences are informed by my own (though, thankfully, I haven’t had to contend with an apocalypse that meant I couldn’t access the medication that has kept me going). She’s also inspired by @agentjackdaniels, who acted as consultant extraordinaire on walking sticks and panic attacks, and suggested the Joel picture for the moodboard. Thank you, Luce, for this, for fighting the good fight for representation in fic - and for beta-ing the story. 

(A note on terminology: rheumatoid disease/arthritis are sometimes used interchangeably. ‘Arthritis’ often sounds like it’s ‘just’ osteoarthritis to people who don’t know the difference. Rheumatoid, unlike osteoarthritis (which is shitty in its own ways), is a systemic, lifelong, chronic illness and an auto-immune disorder that affects the entire body, not just bones and/or joints. So personally I use ‘rheumatoid disease’ as it conveys more of the impact of the condition. It's also often seen as an 'old person' disease but this simply isn't true - not that this stops mobility aids being modelled by people in their 80s all the time...)

Please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date with my work.

Dividers by @saradika - moodboard by me

You weren’t supposed to make it.

Twenty-odd years in the apocalypse with your fucked-up joints and no steady supply of the meds that kept you going, pushing through the cycles of fatigue, and fighting off your own goddamned immune system as much as you were fighting clickers and raiders. 

You really weren’t supposed to make it. But you had Annie.

You were sharing an apartment when the outbreak happened, a quirk of shitty personal circumstances - she’d just broken up with her long-term boyfriend - that probably helped save your life. Annie was the all-action sister - the kind of person who thinks there’s nothing weird about spending your weekends doing triathlons and “Tough Mudder” challenges, who had a perfect bill of health your entire lives, who bounced out of bed in the mornings while you cracked and creaked and stiffly manoeuvered yourself into being. 

The good days generally outweighed the bad in the years between your diagnosis with rheumatoid disease and the initial outbreak - or maybe you had just gotten used to the aches and pains and the occasional flare-ups of fatigue. You invested in a walking stick to help on those days when mobility was particularly bad: solid, heavy, and carved in a pale yellow wood. It felt like a comfort in your hand, more a sign of strength, to you, than of weakness. 

Annie helped you through the panic attack that consumed you on outbreak day, working with you to regulate your breathing and relax your tense muscles until you could finally say what was on your mind.

“My meds. What am I going to do without my meds?”

Nothing a quick smash and grab at the local pharmacy couldn’t fix. It was the first of many, stockpiling the little yellow tablets you relied on and taking as many packs of over-the-counter painkillers as you could carry. Useful currency in the apocalypse, as it turned out.

All-Action Annie was never going to cope with life in a QZ. She got the two of you out after months of planning, nights of whispered talk about a town out west that was normal - or something close to it, anyway. She hadn’t entertained your protestations about you slowing her down, holding her back.

“You think I’m leaving behind a girl who’s so handy with a weapon?” she’d teased, pointing to your walking stick. “Be real. We’re busting out together.”

The infection took hold in her about three days from Jackson. Fuckin’ barbed wire, tearing a jagged line through Annie’s hand and leaving behind an old-fashioned kind of threat to life, the kind penicillin had mostly dealt with. But that was then. This was now. 

She died in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, you holding her hand until the end, talking to her about your childhoods and trying to keep smiling until she closed her beautiful eyes. 

It took all your strength to dig her grave. And then, somehow, you found more.

You weren’t supposed to make it. But you did. 

Jackson stands before you. 

He sees you for the first time in the community dining hall, talking animatedly to Maria as you hungrily devour the food set in front of you. Eyes wide, face grubby, clothes ragged. Half-wild, he thinks, like most of the new arrivals. Like him and Ellie, once upon a time. He returns to his bowl of soup and his own thoughts - at least, until he’s interrupted by Maria.

“Joel? Want to introduce a new member of the community, just arrived.”

He doesn’t quite know why he’s surprised when he realises you’re leaning on a sturdy hand-carved walking stick in a solid, light yellow wood. Maybe it’s because he knows how physically hard it is to get here. Maybe he just assumed folks who needed a stick wouldn’t have been able to manage the journey. 

For a second he can hear Sarah’s voice in his head, chiding him for focusing on what a disabled person can’t do instead of what they can. 

“Joel?”

He snaps out of his reverie and looks from Maria to you. “Uh, hi. Sorry, just…sorry. Forgot my manners.”

“I was just saying how glad we are to have someone who can offer some art education in the town, isn’t that right, Joel?”

Your eyes are warm and mischievous as you meet his gaze, silently conveying your amusement at Maria’s rather brusque manner. It’s all Joel can do not to laugh.

“Sure is. You’re an artist, then?”

You shake your head. “Not a real one. I was an art teacher, before. Long time since I created anything, though, so I hope I remember how.”

He smiles softly, his gruff exterior receding a little. “Bet it’s just like riding a bike,” he says, before his face falls as he looks at your walking stick. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… Shit. Hope I didn’t offend.”

“As it happens, I can ride a bike, Joel. The apocalypse just doesn’t give me much cause to.”

You leave him with a smile and a wink as Maria ushers you to meet other townsfolk. He watches you as you walk away, the tap-tap-tapping of your stick beating out a new rhythm in the heart of Jackson.

You think of Annie every morning when you wake up in the little house you’d been assigned. Sometimes, as you potter around the kitchen, still revelling in the novelty of making yourself morning coffee for the first time in two decades, you even talk to her. You tell her about the town, the townsfolk, your work in the community vegetable garden, your art classes. 

“Honestly, An, you wouldn’t believe how popular they are,” you tell the Annie who, in an alternate universe, is sitting at the kitchen table with her own mug of coffee. “I’m setting up extra sessions to cater for demand.”

There’s something uplifting in how hungry the people of Jackson are to make art, no matter their experience or existing skill level. They’ll draw stuff from memory, they’ll dutifully work on a still life, they’ll even traipse outside with you, wooden sketching boards in hand, and make rapid-fire sketches of the goings-on on Main Street. 

Joel doesn’t join a class - but the teenage girl Maria refers to as “Joel’s kid” does, all potty-mouthed and enthusiastic and pretty damned talented, to boot. Ellie tells you how she’s pinned up the drawings she’s proudest of in their home, “like our own fuckin’ art gallery or some shit.” 

You pull up a tall stool and sit beside her, resting your stick over your thighs. “Joel’s got his guitar and those dumbass model figures he paints,” she continues, leaning around her easel and squinting at the woman who’d volunteered to act as a life model for this week’s classes. “But this shit? This is real art.” She adds a little highlight to the woman’s sweater and leans back to assess the work.

“You probably got exempt from patrols, I’m guessing. On account of the stick, an’ all.”

“Maria asked, and I signed up happily. I got all the way here, didn’t I? I’m sure I can manage patrols. And it’s the least I can do - they’ve even found me some of the medications I need.”

Ellie nods, somewhat convinced, and returns to sketching out the contours around the model’s jaw.

The day of your first patrol arrives. You bundle up and set out early for the stables, allowing extra time to get there on account of the flare-up you’d been experiencing the day before. 

You arrive early - just in time, in fact, to overhear a heated conversation between Joel and Maria.

“She’s doing enough, ain’t she? I just don’t think she’ll be able for patrol.”

“You’ve seen her out and about, Joel. She’s mobile. She’s competent. She’s good with the horses. She got all the way here, the last stretch on her own. What more proof do you need?”

“You’re seriously gonna send a woman with a walking stick out on patrol?”

“I seriously am. Sent you and your bad back out, didn’t we?”

“That ain’t the same and you know it.”

“Just saddle the horses, Joel. And, in case you’re wondering - yes, I paired you together deliberately, just until she gets settled.” You hear her footsteps recede as she leaves him.

You had misjudged how much your already-limited grip would be further impeded by the gloves you’re wearing. The stick clatters to the ground.

“Who’s there?”

You emerge from the shadows. “Me. Sorry.”

Joel rolls his eyes and gruffly points out the tack and supplies.

The first patrol passes in silence. You wonder what happened to the softer man you’d caught a glimpse of the first day you arrived.

On the second patrol, you ask him questions about himself. On the third patrol, he asks (fewer) questions about you. By the fourth, you’re having something approximating normal conversation. 

“Sarah loved to make all kinds of stuff,” he ventures, leading the way on his chestnut horse. “Those beaded bracelets, that girly Lego in the pink and purple, all of that. My girl had enough Magic Markers to supply a whole elementary school. Maybe two.”

You can hear him smile, even without seeing his face. His shoulders relax a little as he recalls the memory.

“So she was a creative kid?”

“Creative, sporty… she could do anything. Made the school soccer team, she was so proud. Just a…” He pauses. “A great kid.”

There’s a few beats of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horses snickering and the steady rhythm of their hooves on the ground. 

“What about your sister, was she arty like you?”

You’d told him about Annie on the last patrol. This was the first time he’d asked about her explicitly.

“She was the sporty one. I think that’s why I survived so long, truth be told. She was so strong and fast and tough as fuck.”

He chuckles, the burr of his voice resonating in the cold air. “Sounds like a good balance, though.”

“It is - it was. Was.” Your voice grows quieter as you repeat the word to yourself, chest starting to tighten. The horse slows, responding to the tension of your body, as Joel continues to trot on, not realising you’ve come to a halt behind him. 

And then the tell-tale snapping of a twig, the sound of footsteps, and the realisation there’s someone else there, emerging out of the woods. Two someones. 

Raiders. 

The panic attack that has been building inside you gives way. An innate fight or flight response kicks in as you roar his name. 

Joel turns and charges back towards you, just in time to see you take out one raider with a crack shot from your pistol. He slows the horse and readies his rifle, staring at the other man who is now trying to haul you off your mount.

“Get the fuck off me, motherfucker!” You flail against him, desperately shifting your weight to the other side of the saddle to try to shake him off. 

Joel takes aim. 

You think you’ve kicked the raider off. And that’s when you hit the ground.

He can’t take the shot now, not with her half-hidden from his view and audibly fighting off the man who’s dragged her to the ground. Joel is still a little distance away, slightly too far to see exactly what’s happening. 

Why didn’t he hear her slowing? Why didn’t he realise she was further behind than she ought to be? Why did she slow in the fuckin’ first place?

Joel quickly dismounts, rifle in hand, moving closer so he can get a clearer shot at the guy who’s now standing over her. The horse’s elegant neck obscures the raider’s hands from Joel’s vision - he has no idea if he’s pointing a gun at her or not. 

He thinks he has a clear sight on the guy’s head, provided he stays in the same position. He readies the rifle. 

Suddenly, the raider disappears, letting out a primal roar before he hits the ground. 

“You fucking cunt!”

Joel can see she’s standing now, the man prone before her. As he rounds the horse he sees her lift her cane, hands securely gripping the pointed end of the stick. 

She brings the solid, weighty handle down on the raider’s leg with a sickening crunch. Even Joel recoils a little at the sight and the sound.

“F-f-fucking…c-c-cunt!”

Thwack. The other leg. 

Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

”Keep calling me that, and I’ll keep the blows coming.”

Holy fuck. Who is she?

”C-c-c-cripple.”

”Excuse me?”

The raider props himself up on his arms. “I said, cripple. Fucking crippled cunt.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Joel cocks his rifle. 

The stranger sneers at Joel. “Awww, he’s actin’ the big man now. Weren’t too quick gettin’ back down here to save your cripple woman, were ya?”

Before Joel can react, she swings her stick over her head and brings it down on the man’s skull with a furious scream that seems to come from the very depths of her being. 

She screams and screams as she hits him, over and over, eyes wild in her blood-spattered face. Joel recognises this: in himself; hell, in Ellie. It’s the moment when the floodgates open and all those years of pain blend together and zone in on this convenient target, an avatar for everyone and everything who had forced loss and trauma upon you. 

He roars at her to stop, but knows she can’t hear him. It’s just her and the raider, now: her rage and fear and grief finding their expression through a walking stick turned cudgel.

A single shot ends it. She turns sharply, as if snapped out of a trance, and sees the smoke leaving Joel’s pistol. 

“Hey. Hey. You alright?” His broad hands grip your biceps as he looks into your eyes.

Yes, you tell him, yes. You’re fine. But Joel keeps asking. 

“Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Please, just talk to me.”

You are moving your mouth, but no sound is coming out. The familiar vice is tightening around your chest. You look down at your blood-stained hands and you struggle to breathe. 

“‘M dying, Joel. Can’t breathe. All the blood. So much. Why can’t I breathe?”

Oh, he realises with a pang. She gets these things too. And I know how to help.

“You’re okay, you hear?” He’s rubbing your arms gently, keeping his gaze on you. “You’re alright. Breathe along with me, okay?”

It’s difficult to find the rhythm, at first. Joel’s hands find yours and squeeze them in time with his breath.

”In through your nose, that’s it. Slow and steady. Now out through your mouth.”

He can see your muscles starting to visibly relax. A wave of relief courses over him.

”Yeah, that’s it - you got this. You got this, good girl, you’re just fine. Gonna be alright.”

When he’s confident your breathing has settled and the panic attack receded somewhat, he gently guides you away from the body of the dead raider, one hand holding your horse’s bridle and the other holding yours. 

“Why don’t you have a seat for a minute, huh?” Joel gestures to a long, low tree trunk lying near the forest’s edge and opens his saddlebags, rummaging until he finds a cloth, a battered hip flask and a bag of dried apple slices.

”Here.” He wipes the blood as best he can from your hands and proffers the flask, settling his substantial frame beside you on the log. “Have a sip or two, just to relax you a little bit more. Got a snack, here, too.”

You flinch at the taste of the liquor, but take a second sip regardless. The apple slices barely taste of anything in the afterburn of the moonshine. Joel nibbles on some jerky and stares into the middle distance. 

You take a break from patrol, agreed with Maria, and a few days off your art classes. It was tempting to keep going, to return to the light and airy studio and to your students. But you feared a relapse.

And your body needed to recover physically, too. You ached from head to toe, fingers and toes puffy and swollen and movement seriously restricted. You ration out the supply of medication you’ve secured since getting here, and use hot water bottles and plenty of rest to try to ride out the flare in your arthritis.

Three days after the incident, there’s a knock on the door. You hobble to answer it, leaning on your trusty stick for support.

”Came by to see how you were doing. Got you some things if you needed ‘em.”

Joel is standing on your front porch, holding a jute grocery bag. He pauses, as if waiting for you to give him permission to say more.

”That’s so very kind of you, Joel. Come in, won’t you? I was able to set a fire so it’s nice and cosy.”

He watches as you lead the way into the living room, noting how much slower you were today. Guilt laps at his conscience. He said she shouldn’t go on patrol. He knew.

”You want me to bring these into the kitchen for you?”

“That would be a great help. Thank you.” He’s glad to see you smile, after the trauma of the patrol. “If you want a drink, I’ve got some tea and coffee in the cupboard just to the left of the sink.”

He pops his head back into the living room. “What would you like?” 

“A tea would be perfect. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right.”

You wrap yourself back up in your blankets on the couch, making room for Joel when he returns with the drinks and a couple of cookies, sent over by Ellie as part of his care package for you. The mug feels like a comfort in your aching hands, its heat assuaging the inflammation ravaging your joints.

He sips his coffee and you sit in silence for a little bit, watching the flames dance over the firewood. 

“Have you, uh - you been okay, doing okay, since…”

Joel stares into his coffee cup and then looks at you, a little awkward. You smile, hoping to reassure him.

”I’ve been okay. Just the physical pain and exhaustion, mostly. And - well, you saw it. The panic. It can leave you drained.”

He nods and takes another swig of his drink. “I know. I - I’ve had times like that, too. Real fuckin’ scary, when you’ve never gone through it before.”

You study his face for a moment or two, noting the little scar on his temple, the lines on his face, the stern expression completely undermined by the warmth of his deep brown eyes. For an instant, he seems so vulnerable, this strong, tough man sitting on your little couch. 

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a while. But then, I hadn’t done anything like that in a while.”

This time Joel turns to look at you properly. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”

You giggle at the turn of phrase. “Not quite. Let’s just say my stick did a lot of work over the last twenty years. He wasn’t the first to feel the brunt of it.”

Joel nods, and you feel strangely relieved that he doesn’t seem surprised. “Doesn’t get easier, though, does it?”

“It does not. Which is why it’s better to avoid having to do it.”

”I agree. Gotta say, though, I - I was worried you wouldn’t be able for patrol, y’know?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “I know. I overheard you, remember?”

He blushes. “Aw, shit. Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want anything happening to you, what with your - condition, and all.”

You sigh softly, not really noticing the affection in his voice. “Most of the time, I’m fine. Y’know? I’m slower, but I do okay. I get tired more easily, but I manage. I didn’t come here to be a drain on the community.”

”You aren’t.”

”I know, but I want to keep it that way. I want to pull my weight. I’m able, Joel.”

He huffs in agreement. “Not like I’m a perfect specimen these days, either. Knees, fuckin’ back, deaf in one ear…” 

You chuckle. “And you thought I wouldn’t manage patrol? Anyway, you’re not doing so bad, are you?”

He gives you a little smile, but that constant sadness still haunts his eyes. He stares at his coffee for a moment.

“You knew what you were doing, though.”

”I did. But I didn’t feel like I could stop.” You sip your tea, swallowing hard. “And I’m scared that makes me some kinda monster. You know?”

Oh, he knows. He knows it too well.

”You aren’t a monster.” Joel resists the urge to put an arm around you. “You just… something snapped, I guess. All that - well, all that hell you’ve gone through. It… it changes you. But it doesn’t make you a monster.”

He realises you’re crying before you do, spotting the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. He finds a clean handkerchief in his jeans and offers it to you. 

Fuck it. 

“Can I - can I put an arm round you? Just for some support?”

Your eyes light up, tears or no tears, and you nod enthusiastically. Joel is warm and comforting, his broad chest and strong arms a kind of anchor in the emotional storm. You nuzzle against him, and he gives you a little squeeze on the arm.

”You’re a really brave woman, you know that?”

His voice is quieter, more intentional. You look at him quizzically from under your lashes, unused to praise of this kind. For an instant you think about asking him what he means. But the safety you’ve found in the broad arm draped around you is all you need right now. 

You nuzzle a little against his chest, and watch the fire dancing for the rest of the night. 

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x disabled f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #soft joel miller #disabled f!reader #disabled reader fic #hbo the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedrostories

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for writing a paragraph on how I want to drop my friends?

(15F for ref, everyone in here is also F and around the same age)

In 2022, I returned from a six-week camp session with friends I only see once a year (pretty shitty experience ngl, but I still had fun), A couple days later, they accused me of stealing this girl's shirt since I was the last one to wear it. I told her I didn't and I wouldn't. I had a similar steal it because. They proceed to accuse me, so to get out my feelings I write this lengthy paragraph in my notes app expressing my thoughts and what I don't like about the group. This never gets sent out, and we stay friends.

In 2023, they went to camp again (for the last eligible year so it was very special to them), but I stayed home due to pre-existing commitments. This was also the time when the notes app trend was going on, a.k .a. where people would post their notes app and all the antics they wrote. I also posted a video like this, and on the sixth slide, I put the paragraph that I wrote in 2022 (it said 2022 at the top). They didn't immediately see this because they weren't allowed to have their phones, but I private the video before they got back due to a mental health issue I had accidentally aired out. At this time, I saw nothing wrong with the paragraph being included because all the issues had blown over.

A couple months later, I un-privated the video because YOLO and the group found it and immediately got hated on so hard for the video. They post pictures of me to social media stories write paragraphs about how awful of a person I am, create lies about me, and comment on all of my Tiktok posts where I talk about the issue, despite me being vague.

I don't know where I stand in this issue because yeah, I didn't go to the trip this year, and the paragraph was admittedly rude, but they didn't even give me a chance to explain, and getting body shamed on a private Snapchat story when they know I had an ED isn't something i think I deserve, but I need outsider perspective.

The paragraph for reference:

I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. The whole entire time I was at camp I felt isolated because I was not as involved and as social with the boys as you guys were/are, and that might not be your fault, but you guys have no care in that being the only thing you discuss on this group chat. Every time I text about something else, it always gets pushed to the side and now you are accusing me of stealing (name)’s top. I agree, I was the last on to wear it, but distinctly remember throwing it back into (name)'s trunk. I am sorry it did not make the trip back home, but it is not my fault. I don’t want your slutty top anyways, I only borrowed it because my ebb to street wasn’t going to work. I have done so much for you guys, like letting everyone borrow my clothes, giving away my lululemon, and while some of my pieces were stolen, I am not pointing fingers at random people because I have control of my feelings. So many words have been wasted protecting the reputation of Cabin 10 from others who think you guys are attention-seeking whores (you want names? It’s the whole fucking camp), and everyone looked at me in pity when I cried into my hands because I was so sad. I have heard you guys talk shit about me in front of my face (*giggling and whispering* Are you going to try out for the play? No that’s weird. Both heads turn towards me, and laughter erupts out of the two mouths. You know who you are), and you guys have talked shit about each other to me, so I can only imagine what has been said about me. I felt ashamed about my passions, the only personality trait you guys addressed was that I was so mean and I was smart (you only revealed the latter on in private, the former was told to everyone). I am done feeling horrible about myself because you guys are so wrapped up in what every (camp) boy thinks of you, so I am cutting contact. You have ruined my camp experience to the point where I am not coming back.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | next part

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k words

warnings: explicit language

summary: a lunch that was supposed to take your mind off of work brings about even more stress because it turns out you're the only solution to the one problem you wish you didn't have to handle

PROLOGUE | ❝𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒏❞

There were certain moments in your life that felt like defining moments. Moments that you’d later look back on and fully understand just how impactful they were in the grand scheme of things. 

Those instances were a rarity, but when they would happen, they were painstakingly obvious. It was almost as if you could feel some sort of shift happening. Your life beginning to turn in a specific direction that, as it’s happening, you could never tell if it’s good or bad, but you knew that you’d probably find out sooner rather than later. It was always a weird feeling, a little jarring.

You experienced that exact feeling at lunch with Jessie— your longtime friend and current Director of the movie you were working on as the Production Coordinator. The lunch was supposed to be simple, and it started out as such; the weather in Los Angeles was nice and surprisingly not unbearably hot for mid-April, which made you both sit outside of a cafe that was almost always busy, but they served the best sandwiches so it made sense.

It felt good to have at least a small break from all of the pre-production tasks that had been consuming pretty much every single moment of your last few days. The closer actual filming got, the more hectic everything else seemed to get. 

And it seemed as if that sentiment was proven to be even more true when Jessie told you something that turned the simple lunch into anything but simple. 

“You’re joking, right?” Was your immediate reaction. 

Everything she had said to you had to be a joke because there was no way that she was asking you, or more so telling you, that you’d be Steve Harrington’s assistant for the next three months. 

But, you also fully knew that it couldn’t be a joke because it sounded both insanely unbelievable and way too real to just be some joking story that Jessie cooked up in her mind. 

Steve’s assistant, who was six months pregnant, would be on bed rest for the entirety of her final trimester due to stress. And because of the untimeliness of that situation, she had no time to hire a replacement for the time being; which, of course, included the three months of filming that was set to begin in a week. And that was sadly where you came in because, like most Hollywood actors, Steve could not function without an assistant, and that sent Jessie and the producers that had invested so much in the film into a frenzy because he was now close to pulling out of doing the movie if he didn’t have a good assistant for the duration of filming. 

All of that sounded the perfect amount of insane to be true. 

“You’re the only person that I trust doing this,” Jessie told you, further confirming that all of this was not some sort of sick and twisted joke.

You simply looked at her for a few moments before responding. “He’s notoriously known as an asshole, Jessie.” 

You had already been mentally preparing for having to deal with him in passing while on set, and now apparently you were going to have to deal with him even more than you anticipated. The thought made you want to scream. 

“You’re the only person that I believe will be able to fully handle him,” She said. “And most of the stuff he asks you to do, like getting lunch or coffee or whatever, can be pawned off to some production assistant. But I know that if I just assigned a random PA to him, they’d fold under the pressure because, yes, he’s an asshole, and they’d probably cry at the first shitty thing he says to them. And I know you won’t because you’ve been in this industry long enough and have probably dealt with people worse than him.” 

You hated how much sense that made. But still, you couldn’t accept it all just yet. Your job consisted of you solving problems or trying to stop them before they’d arise, so of course you’d attempt to solve this. 

However, you quickly failed to think of any solution because every potential solution you thought of only led to another problem. 

If you let him quit the movie that would be horrific because production would be pushed back a handful of months and a shit ton of money would be lost. And it also sucked that he was actually an insanely good actor and was probably the perfect person for the role.  

Or if you waited until he found a replacement assistant that met his “perfect standards” or whatever else— which with the way he seemed, sounded like it would take weeks upon weeks— the same issue would happen of filming being stalled and money going right down the drain. 

There really was only one solution to the problem, and it truly sucked that you were it. 

“You can say no,” Jessie told you, putting a pause on your thoughts, and before you could tell her that there was actually no way you could say no, she continued. “But, if you do this, I promise I will make you the Assistant Director on my next movie, which is going to be filming in Europe for six months right after this shoot ends.” 

“No way.”

Jessie nodded at your surprised words. “Yes, I found out about it a couple days ago. The original director they had backed out, so they asked me and I actually really love the script so I said yes. And before they started looking for a new AD too, I told them that I already had the perfect person in mind.” She smiled at you, and hearing how much she believed in you never failed to make you want to cry at least a little bit. From years ago at your first real paid job in the film industry where you were a PA on a movie that she had been the Assistant Director on, she completely saw your potential and never failed to tell you that. “And I know you’ll absolutely kill that job just like you’ll kill this whole being his assistant thing while also doing your actual job.”

That was where you felt it. The shift. That weird feeling hitting you like a ton of bricks as you considered Jessie’s words and let them fully sink in. 

You pushed around some of the last bits of food left on your plate before looking up at your friend. “He knows that being his assistant won’t be my only job, right? That I’ll have a shit ton of other things on my plate during filming.”

“I’ll make sure he knows that,” Jessie said with a nod. “The assistant part of this doesn’t take precedence over you being the production coordinator. That’s much more important.” 

“Okay… Okay, good,” You responded and then after a breath of silence you let out a sigh. “I’ll do it. Of course, I know I have to; there’s really no other options. But, I won’t like it one bit, and I reserve the right to be mad at you for making me do this for, at least, the next twelve hours.”

She laughed at that. “Yes, I fully deserve that.” 

“But, before I allow myself to be mad at you I first have to say that I love you and I can’t believe you think I’m good enough to be AD, and thank you so much.” You said and then took a long sip from your refilled drink that had yet to be touched in the past ten minutes. “I’m experiencing so much emotional whiplash right now I feel like my mind is gonna explode.” 

“You deserve it,” She said and then let out a small laugh. “Not the emotional whiplash. I meant the job. And even if you said no to being Steve's assistant for filming, I obviously would still want you to do this. You’re the only person I could imagine doing this.”

You let her words sit with you as the two of you finished the rest of your lunch, the conversation happily shifting to something that was not work related. And you continued to let them sit with you once you both parted ways and you were in your car. 

You thought about how you knew this would be a moment you’d think back to years down the road because of how much was about to change. 

Once you made it through these three months you’d move onto doing something that you never even imagined yourself doing, but you felt completely ready to take the leap. 

That felt pretty defining. 

Still, though, you first had to survive three months of being Steve Harrington’s assistant, and that sounded like it would be hell.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next part!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington series #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff

[magnuscomedybracket]

Round 3 Match 1

087 Uncanny Valley vs. 021 Freefall

Propaganda under the cut!

087 Uncanny Valley

Guy cleans out flesh from a drain without a blink and nikola has to invite him back again with Jude because he wasn’t scared enough the first time because of obliviousness

Besides the obvious bit of Guy who Doesn’t Realize He’s In A Horror Story, imagine this from Nikolas perspective. Like “oh shit lol this guys name is “skinner” I’m gonna mess with him for shits and giggles… Ok he didn’t notice any of my spooky bullshit, wild! I threatened to butcher him and he was Not Paying Attention! Jude! Hey! Come check out this idiot man!”. Also implication that Jude and nikola hang out being shitty together. I support women’s wrongs.

"Megan" tries to expose this guy to The Horrors and he's so focused on his job that he just doesn't notice. She's so shocked by this that she calls him back and still has to literally force him to notice

The world's most oblivious plumber somehow doesn't notice all the creepy stuff going on and just does his job like normal. It only gets funnier when you consider it from the Stranger avatar's point of view.

Nikola Orsinov trying so hard to scare the least observant man you've ever seen. Whispering in his ear about flencing while he hums noncommittally and pulls a wad of meat from the drain of her spooky factory in the middle of fuck-all nowhere and then he just gives her the invoice and walks out??? Like it's a normal job? And when she calls him to come back the next day she has to dress up in a clown costume to get his attention and grab his head to make him look at The Atrocities that he just entirely missed the day before. I love Sebastian Skinner so much and I wish only the best for him

#I really just want to point out that they're trying to scare a plumber. #A plumber!! #do you think this is the first time this man has had to clean skin and hair out of a drain? #do you think he's never seen blood before? #like yeah it's objectively funny from the Horror's point of views but for him? It's a tuesday #Like that isn't even the weirdest thing he's seen that week #'oh they threatened to butcher him' yeah? what makes them special? #this guy probably deals with 20 different avatars a week by necessity #no amount of 'his name is skinner let's fuck with him' is going to be worse than service work in people's homes (via @/childoferebus)

#the only reason we know what's happening for half the episode is taht we know this is an horror story #and how things usually go. #dude spends half the episode going 'just a normal job. #house in the middle of nwohere. weird smells and textures #*shrugs* just anotehr day on the job* (via @/monstersqueen)

021 Freefall

I feel a little mean for finding this statement funny but… Simon really said, ‘enjoy sky blue’ than had this man falling for ages. “Before I address the central point of this statement, namely the question of… whether the sky can eat people” fantastic line. Also the indignant way he responds to Martin coming in with the Goddamn worms-

The Looney Tunes ass mental image of a lone parachute falling from the sky into a field.

#the magnus archives #tma #magpod #magnuspod #polls #tournament #round 3 #just anotehr day on the job.

[wooahaes]

i wanna talk about it, so i'm gonna talk about it.

cw for death & loss of a family member, mental health issues, shitty family relationships, suicidal thoughts. just... it's a lot of my thoughts because i need to get them out, end of.

i knew what i signed up for when i told my parents i would be the one taking care of grandma when she entered into hospice. i grieved then, i think, and that's why i've been so... okay now, in a sense. like, it hurts, but it doesn't feel like a new pain. it feels like that phantom ache you get when you think about past heartbreak, or how i feel when i remember my long-time best friend and i aren't speaking to each other anymore because we just drifted apart. i think now i feel both guilty and relieved. relieved that she's no longer struggling because i know my grandma always hated feeling like she's a burden (she's not and she never was, no matter how often we told her this) and being so reliant on us.

and guilty because i had a breakdown in the days leading to her death because everything had weighed down on me so heavily. i hate the things i thought in the heat of the moment while i was sobbing one night after she'd gone to sleep, so angry because of how much things had changed. she was getting worse. the nurse had taken out the catheter because she just couldn't do it anymore, so i was constantly being called to help her with that. i was tired. i just wanted to sleep, and my sleep schedule became this ugly, messy thing of sleeping when i could and being called every 1-2 hours (3 if i was lucky, and i've never been lucky).

i feel guilty that dad was the one who found her. i don't think she struggled. i think it was just... one minute she was here, trying to sip a gatorade, and the next she was gone. i'm glad she didn't struggle. i'm glad she's no longer struggling, even though i miss her. i wish i had eaten dinner with her more often, but she always shooed me away because of that feeling of being a burden. i didn't want to argue with her, so i did what she asked for me. but it's so strange because dad found her, woke me up, and we just... the shock broke both of us, we both cried. he called my mother, i called hospice, and within an hour, we had calmed down and were working on what comes next.

and then an hour later, we were all sitting together with the hospice nurse, waiting for the funeral home to come and get her, and we were laughing over stories. it was so strange. it was almost like we had all moved on quickly, except no one had because there was this tension in the air. i think if we hadn't been laughing and talking, we would have been crying. i think i'm honestly grateful that we were laughing.

i told a lot of my close friends. i vaguely posted here because i knew i'd talk about it more later, but i told my friends pretty much outright. initially it was shock posting, of me breaking because it happened so suddenly. and then i talked more with people. i decided that i just wanted normalcy for the most part, that i'd reach out to people or talk with them all if i needed to talk.

it just feels so weird. life moves so fast. i just want it to slow down for a minute.

the funeral is this afternoon and i'm not going. my parents understood even though my mother won't stop bitching about how she wishes i would go so she doesn't have to. i know it's because it's physically hard for her to go, but she's not the one who spent almost 6 weeks caring for grandma around the clock. she's not the one who was emotionally and physically exhausted by the end of it, the one who woke up every day wishing to kill herself because all of the stress was getting to her.

our relationship was actually good for a minute, but now she's back to being the bitch she's always been. one of my friends said something about the way his step dad used to be: if he was having a bad day, then everyone had to feel the effects of it. and while he grew, my mother's always been this way and always will be this way. she's never going to change. if she was, she would have changed by now. she knows she's hurt me. she's asked for forgiveness not because she felt remorse, but because she's worried about not getting into heaven or whatever. i wish she'd just realize we're never going to agree on anything, so avoid those topics so that we can pretend we're fine because i leave and never speak to hr again. it's what i do.

we're moving into my grandma's house. it was left to us in the will, and now it feels weird to go through so many of her things. we've already made the decision to donate her clothes (she was a tiny woman and all of us are very much not tiny) to a women's shelter in our city. we're slowly going through things, figuring out what we're selling, what we're keeping, what just needs to be thrown out. it feels like no one else here cares even though i know my dad does. he's lost both of his parents now, after all. it's hard on him and he's never going to show it because he's never been an emotional man.

i'm so tired. i just want all of the hard parts to be over now.

#wooahaes.txt #sorry to offload all of this and i hope no one reads it unless they want to #i'm just... very tired and no one is online #my friends have been so so sweet about things and i appreciate them so much #also thank you to those who left kind words for me on that other post. its hard and i appreciate the kindness a lot right now

[angel-of-the-moons]

Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Descriptions of the events of previous chapter, death, lying to cops, bloooood

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: A shortish chapter; I cannot forgive myself for my wildly inconsistent upload schedule. I'll take a break to try and go through some of the requests backed up in my inbox! (Y'all really like Pavitr 😂) But for some reason writing this story is just so eeeeaaasy asdfghjkl

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 3:

Knowhere

It had been three days since that weird, shitty night.

Three days since you had to explain to your boss and coworkers a watered down version as to why your face was busted and bruised.

Three days since you saw in the news that the man who tried to rape you was in fact dead, and whatever hit him left him in that alley for a homeless man to find the next morning.

Three days since you kept the secret about what really killed him, or the cops would arrest you for murder, or lock you up in a mental ward.

Three days since you came home after the assault, stared at that statue... and saw your mace and taser were laying at the feet of the stone idol.

You had left them on your dresser. You were absolutely sure of it.

You still couldn't wrap your head around it.

What had happened? Like... seriously?

There's no-fucking-way a literal god decided to pop down from wherever the fuck He lived to come and save your stupid little human ass because you offered up some half-assed prayer and left some shitty offering.

No way would a god care that much about a little nobody like you.

Unless...

Then again....

This "Khonshu" might not have many worshippers anymore. After all, when was the last time you saw a church dedicated to an Egyptian god instead of the "mainstream" religions with only "One True" god?

So, maybe your prayer...

Agh! It still didn't explain what happened to you! What happened to that guy!

You found out in the paper that the man had actually been convicted of rape in the past, was on parole for one of them, and was a suspect in four more committed since his parole. So it's not like he was some random citizen who was drunk or just decided to go out and commit a crime...

Society as a whole was better because of it. Some women got closure in the knowledge he wasn't out there hurting other women, anymore. That he couldn't hurt them anymore.

But you still remembered the sound the bones in his face made when they were crushed. You remembered the blood pouring out of his nose and ears. The gurgling noise he made...

The only blessing was since that night, your dreams had a shift.

You were no longer standing in a void, bleeding a macabre river from your body.

These new dreams, you were in a canyon, dusty, sand sweeping through every crack and crevice of the reddish stones; the rock walls on either side of you reaching high above you, well into the sky, stars twinkling above.

On the winds of the canyon, you could make out the incessant whispers of the man you'd heard so many times before. You would take off in a dead sprint down the canyon, your bare feet pounding the sands and the rocks below you as you tried to run to the source.

But no matter how long it felt like you ran, you realized you were running in an infinite loop.

You'd keep running until blood dripped down the rocks, until the sand below swallowed you up.

And that's when your eyes would open yet again.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

You decided, on your next day off, you'd visit Jezebel again, ask her just what the possible fuck was happening.

You hadn't slept the night before, dreading another restless sleep. You were better off awake and running off coffee.

You walked up to her store, checking to see if it was open. It was closed. But the hours said it was open seven days a week, and it was 12:30 in the afternoon...

That's when you heard it. A croaking noise. The sound immediately set off your "feeling".

You lifted your gaze to the small awning above the door, seeing the white head of a crow peering down at you.

You'd never seen a crow like it. Its feathers were a gorgeous creamy white, the eyes a reddish pink, like two tiny red berries.

You almost fell backwards and smacked your head on the pavement when it fluttered down and latched onto your backpack, tugging on the zippers and your keychains with its beak.

"Hey! You--" You sputtered, struggling to reach back and dislodge the bird before it could do any damage. You knew crows liked shiny things, but this was ridiculous!

"Get offa me, KFC!" You grunted. "You're gonna mess up my bag!"

"Zephyr! Gods above, you know your manners!" Jezebel's voice called out.

You looked to your right to see Jezebel standing there, a Starbucks paper coffee cup in her hand, and a plastic takeout container dangling in a semi-transparent plastic bag in the other.

She clicked her tongue and held out the arm with the leather bracer, and Zephyr immediately made a noise and flew over to Jezebel, landing on her arm and waddling up to sit on her shoulder.

"I am so sorry, dear!" She apologized, smiling sweetly. "Zephyr isn't normally like this! He's a sweet boy, I promise."

"He's--he's yours?!" You sputter.

"Yep! Rescued him as a chick. Being an albino he might not have lived long in the wild. He's been my faithful little familiar ever since." She said, cooing at the bird on her shoulder while she rubbed his beak.

"I assume you're here because you have questions?"

How does she do that?!

"Yes!" You say quickly, looking around, your eyes darting to and from, making sure there were no eavesdroppers.

"Come in, come in. I'll keep the store closed just for you so we can talk uninterrupted."

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Somehow, you found yourself telling her the whole story. Where you were expecting her kindly wiccan act to drop and be revealed she was just some person extorting a gimmick, she simply nodded, providing input that calmed you.

Somehow.

Zephyr sat on his perch, blinking at you as he occasionally pecked at his seed stick.

She seemed... confused when you told her how the man was killed.

It didn't seem to be what she expected.

At all.

"...You didn't see anybody else in the alley? Anyone at all?" She asked slowly, setting her coffee down.

"No! No, that's what I'm saying! He just--just..." You ran your hands through your hair.

"I don't know what happened! But it was just me and him there and the next thing he's--he's dead! And I know I left my mace and taser on my dresser! Not at that fucking altar!"

"Shhh, shhh..." Jezebel replied softly, soothing you again, easing your rising nerves.

"And ever since that night, I've had these--these dreams! Different than my usual ones!"

She tilted her head down a bit, brows furrowing.

"Usual ones? Describe them to me."

When you were done explaining (or trying to), Jezebel looked at the table in thought.

"Dear, I don't think those are dreams. Those sound like visions."

"Visions?" You laugh dryly, as if it was crazy.

"I've been having these dreams for years! It's just that now, they're different! Why after all this time, and why only after I prayed to that fucking statue!"

"I know... I know how it must sound. But explain these new "dreams"." She spoke softly.

"I'm... I'm in some kind of canyon. It's nighttime but I can see perfectly. I can just barley see the stars above me, and I hear a voice. It--it could just be the wind in the canyon, but I start chasing it, calling out to it. I keep running, and running, but I never go anywhere. Then... then there's more blood. Dripping down the rocks, and I start to sink. I start to sink and can't breathe, I start crying and my chest hurts, and..." You swallow thickly, as if you drank a cup of sand instead of water, your mouth incredibly dry.

"And then I wake up."

Jezebel stayed silent for what felt like an agonizingly slow eternity, when it was more than likely just a minute at most.

The silence had you ready to chew your fingernails off.

She finally looked into your eyes again.

"These do sound like visions."

You groan, exasperated.

"If these are visions--why am I having them? What do they mean?!" You ask her, frustrated at this hocus-pocus nonsense.

"I... cannot say, dear. They sound like something you must discover. Maybe... some research might help? Try looking for images online of that canyon you dream of, see what you can find. Maybe that will start to help out things into focus." She explained.

"How is Google supposed to help?" You ask skeptically.

Jezebel smiled despite your impertinence.

"You are looking at your visions like they are meaningless mirages dreamed up by your subconscious. That they might be a manifestation of your fears, of your frustrations, your loneliness. You simply need to put a focusing lens to your dreams. If you find a location somewhere that matches your dream, looking into that location may be the first lens of the microscope you need."

You rocked your head back, leaning back in your seat as you stared at her.

How... how had she known? How could she so accurately describe how you felt about your dreams? How you felt about your life in general?

More importantly, how the fuck did she know exactly what to say to relax you, and give you a good starting point?

"Now, you should run along, dear. I have a feeling you have a lot of research ahead of you."

When she guided you out of her store, Zephyr perched on her shoulder again, she smiled.

"And remember, dear... don't forget to pray to Khonshu for his continued protection. Perhaps it just might save you again in the future."

Before you could turn around, she was already back inside her shop.

You frowned at your shadow on the sidewalk.

This was... confusing.

But you needed to know.

You wanted to know if your dreams were visions pointing to something.

And your journey started at the library.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Of course.

Naturally.

Of fucking course.

Of course the rock formations in your dreams were consistent with only one place consistent with what you described.

And that, brought you back to square one.

All you could do was sit there, staring at the open books and computer screen in front of you.

Were gods real?

And did you suddenly have the ear of one?

It seemed, that all roads led to Egypt.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 4: Link

#moon knight #khonshu x you #khonshu x reader #khonshu moon knight #khonshu #khonsu

[s0ulzen]

its a block game, and I get that.

This isn't meant to bash players or admins on the server, so i'll refrain from speaking on direct events and/or players that made watching team red's purgatory stream very difficult. But i feel that a civil discussion should be held on this topic because its important for the mental health and enjoyment of the game for everyone, players, admins, and the audience.

I can't help but feel sad for team bolas. (what a weird sentence to write without the contexts). They just had a shitty 1st day and though they tried to pick themselves up by their bootstraps. it was so demoralizing for them and the chats, to get killed again and again and picked on even as they tried their best, because the opportunity presented itself.

It was fun don't get me wrong to just be insane and express that frustration in a funny way. It speaks volume to just the team's character that when it stopped becoming fun for them they made their own fun. But you could tell at the end of the day it was tiring in a way that hits beyond role playing, and that can be damaging in so many ways.

Slime looked like he went through 2 terms as the US president when you compare what he looked like at the beginning of stream and at the end.

From an audience's perspective I think I'm more upset that the players on team bolas had to sacrifice the fun and enjoyment offered by the qsmp team for the day because the odds were so stacked against them. To the point where they had to create their own fun that does not benefit their future on the server personally but was a necessary reaction to a series of very frustrating moments.

And when quackity studios comes out with a tweet saying, "the entire dynamic is structured so that there is an equal opportunity for ANY team to win the day;" it feels like a pat on a cheek that was just slapped after all red team went through.

Its the end of the first day and I'm certain we will see a balancing come to pass. But it irks me that when organizing the teams no one spoke up and said oh almost half of their members have not been on the server in the past month, and none of them really have really shown a history on the server to dedicate daily hours of grinding up levels and pvp weaponry, as compared to the stack teams of green and blue.

Its just a game, right, but because it is just a game if players are getting pushed towards the edge and are not having the fun that is intended; I think its on everyone involved to take a step back and not have that tunnel vision that can occur with PVP type games. To not take the easy route of so easily accepting it as just a game so whatever we feel isn't valid cause its pretend and if you want to discuss something further you're just being salty.

I know the members of team red stated that they had fun. But I'm not sure if that is in regards to the fun that the event intended them to have or the fun they had to make for themselves. Because as it is, this event isn't sustainable, not for 2 weeks. We've seen QSMP hold events before and they've always drawn a crowd of players, but on DAY 2 of Purgatory there has only been 1 person waiting for the server to open with the same reverence to any of the other events the server has held.

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #team bolas #team soulfire #team green ninja

[therealjackdsaf]

THE ENTIRE PLOT OF DEAD PLATE

tw for mentions of cannibalism and injury

yes i know i mixed up ending 3 and 4 i don't care

okay so this one bisexual FRUITCAKE OF A MAN named Rody gets a job at a fancy ass restaurant in 1960's france. his boss (vincent) looks like a sentient corpse and looks literally so mentally ill its funny. first day: nothing weird happens, so rody goes home, tries to call his ex, and goes to sleep. second day: it's raining and he's stupid so he bikes through the rain really fast and gets soaked. vincent dries his hair off. he goes home after work and tries to call his ex. he has a NIGHTMARE!!! i think they start on the second day anyways he wakes up and goes to work and vincent is like "dude are you okay you look ill." and rody's like "i had a nightmare :(" and vincey-wincey is like "damn rip haha" and you can interact with vincent now so you can ask him a few things i dont remember what they are. anyways day 3 your gf still won't pick up and the trash bags are bloody when you take them out in the morning. SPEAKING OF THAT rody drops the trashbag (which is full of guts) and vince slaps him. day 4 rody walks into the kitchen to take out the trash and vince is holding a cook above a flaming stove. day 5 the cook isn't there and you're nearing the end of the week and vince is hiding in his office. if you look at a hole in the wall you see his eye staring out into the resturaunt. spooky. day 6 he calls and he's like "hey wanna come to a dinner party" and if you say no you continue the week and quit your job. you call your ex but she doesn't pick up.

ending 1: table for one.

if you do decide to go, vincent didn't invite you to a dinner party for fun, he invited you to cater his guests. fun. we find out vincent lost his sense of taste when he was younger, so he's a miserable cook. you meet a college friend, look at vince's shitty bathtub, and steal a freezer key. when exiting to his living room you notice the knife from his kitchen is gone and when talking his arm is behind his back the whole time... he doesn't attack you. yet. if you go into the freezer the next day, you find a sausage making thing. there's meat on the table next to it, and locket. the locket has a picture of you and your girlfriend. that meat isn't animal. vince knocks you out. you wake up locked in the freezer. if you don't have the matches, you struggle until vince comes in and kills you.

ending 2: best served cold.

if you bought the matches, you can burn the ropes holding you and escape the room by turning off the freezer and breaking the door. you interact with a plate of food and vince leaves his office, shocked to see you escaped. he bites off your ear and tells you that he doesn't eat normally- he can't stand it, everything tastes the same- and that him cooking your girlfriend wasn't for him. it was for you. you were supposed to enjoy it! he itneracts with oyu again and if you don't push him away, he stabs you and takes you to the freezer to kill you.

ending 3: abattoir.

if you run into his office and grab a broken wine glass, you fatally wound vincent. you go into the freezer, grab some cooking oil, and cover the whole resturaunt in it. then, you take out your matches...

ending 4: best served hot.

#dead plate

[canonicallysoulmates]

Jared JIB13 Saturday Panel

He jumps right into questions and so will we...

Do he and Jensen drive around the Impala's or do they mostly stay in the garage?

Baby bro, his Impala, is in his garage in Austin next to the picture of him on a horse from French Mistake. He says he has to take a pic of that and tweet it, that they both got the Impala's restored and his got finished first but it's not registered yet in America so it's still a Canadian vehicle which is weird because it was born in America in Detroit but it go registered in Canada. In order for him to be able to drive it he has to get it registered but they will certainly go road trip. And he does a Jensen impression saying, "I love baby" 😂 x

Why does he think Sam only had one son?

He jokingly says Sam only had one son that he knew of 😉 But he thinks Sam did all right, in his opinion the reason he only had one son is that when Sam and Dean were both alive Sam had a questionable history as far as success and failures go when it comes to loved ones so to speak, you know his first love was on fire on the ceiling, his next was a werewolf, then a demon that makes you start the apocalypse so he thinks Sam had a child and he tried to not mess it up. He does truly believe that we'll see Sam and Dean ride again in the version of Sam and Dean that are played by he and Jensen but in the mean time he thinks Sam thought 'I've been through enough, this kid is healthy, ten fingers ten toes, I'm gonna honor my brother' so that's where he went. x

How does he think Sam dealt with his hell trauma through all of the years?

The way he played it, and the way he thought it- there's a funny thing being an actor on a show, especially a show that you've done for an ep or two or 3 because he thinks it's cumulative, it grows on each other. Every episode you do in a tv show, if you care, is like a brick. So episode 1 you get a brick, ep 2 you get another brick, ep 3 you might get 3 more bricks, and so on and so forth and there are some really pivotal episodes where you get a whole brick wall like I Know What You Did Last Summer, Changing Channels, the Simon Said one for him was very funny, Fresh Blood, Sacrifice. Sacrifice, he feels he put up an entire wall and poured some more foundation on the floor to build another wall. And so by the time they got to hell!sam you just kinda have to do the best you can, and say okay here's the house of Sam.

And he feels like this, and for people that he hasn't been able to talk to about mental health directly, he tries to think of himself and everybody else as a mountain and so you're a mountian and sometimes you look up and it's a cloudy sky or it's raining or thundering, the next day could be the most beautiful day you've ever seen so don't commit to that thunderous lightning sky. And vice versa if it's beautiful and there's rainbows and birds and you're like everyting's great and it's gonna be that way forever in a week it might be a very shitty day so things change, and that's not dissimilar to how to tell the story of a character so when he played hell Sam all of that was there and it was really though, it's hard to go there, and he thinks a lot of actors and actresses are really well equipped to play a scene like that they can kinda just go into it and come out of it feeling fine, but for him it stayed with him for a little bit, and he thinks it's because it was theraputic for him because there was some stuff he had to deal with and so he explored it.

He's really grateful for his friend Sam, he got to explore a lot of stuff that he would've failed at so he's happy to have had that relationship for 15yrs and hopefully again but all those aspects were there, and still are there if you think about it, he can go back and play hell Sam tomorrow, and he might, he hopes to. x

In a previous panel he mentioned stoicism, could he talk more about it?

The question that he had been asked in said previous panel where he mentioned stoicism was who would he like to sit down to have a meal with, and he says his first thought is that right now he'd love to talk to his grandpa that died before he was born.

He feels he's learned quite a bit about stoicism. He'd love to delve into it he thinks the perceived peace, and not that stoicism is being peaceful, but he thinks it's finding the peace and that has been a journey for him. Again the mountain, the clouds change but remain your own mountain and stay peaceful and pacifist and this too shall pass, so he thinks maybe one of the things he loved about learning about stoicism at just an elementary level that he'd love to keep exploring is how to keep seeking peace wherever you are. x

Does he get his hair permed?

He doesn't get it permed. He shares a cute story about how his hair now is very long because he hasn't had a haircut since wrapping up filming on Walker s3, which happened 3 days after the last JIB back at the end of February, he's had long hair before, obviously, but this is a short hair haircut that has grown out so he doesn't know how to do it, and so he got to the green room that morning and went to Jensen and told him he was fucked because he has hair product for short hair now and he didn't know what to do, and he didn't want to put on his beanie all day long but Jensen told him he might have something and saved his ass as Dean saves Sam's ass many times. Jensen always taking care of his boy 🥰 And if I want to headcanon that Jensen styled Jared's hair nobody can stop me. x

Has the why did uncle Jensen kill mommy talk happened?

It hasn't. He and G have watched some Walker with the kids so it's more why did dad want you killed if he's the producer, but there's something really funny that he feels, and people have asked many times if he's watched SPN with his kids, and his kind of canned answer is they're not old enough to see all that blood but they are, or that they can't see love scenes which they can they get it, it's more he has such a deep and abidding love for SPN and Sam and Dean and C and all the other characters that he doesn't want to watch SPN with the kids casually. He will watch SPN with his kids, he will watch every single ep with them but when he does so he wants to be able to pause and say 'hey here are the archetypes, here are the storylines, here are the tropes, here's why the storyline is going this way because soon it might go that way' basically he wants to able to explain it to them. This is something he's gone through with Tom about like Harry Potter or Star Wars and what's the hero's journey and the speedbumbs along the way. But he will watch it with them and he's sure he will get that question, and hopefully he'll have an answer by then. x

The next fan thanks him for Walker Independence and asks him what his favorite bit was

His favorite bit was attempting to give a voice to the stories that haven't been told yet, it's still an open wound but he's so proud of the cast, the storylines, the characters. It's one of those bummers when he has to remind himself that he's a talking monkey, we all are and sometimes it works out where the people who do or don't decide to pay for you to do another season do or don't decide to pay for it. He couldn't be more proud of the show, the stories, actors and actresses, characters, and he hopes we see more of it somehow. x

Does he have any birthday traditions?

He doesn't have a tradition, honestly when he turned 18 he was filming on Gilmore Girls. When he grew up they had birthday parties but once he moved to LA he believes between his birthday in 2018 and his birthday in 2005 when he turned 22-23, he thinks he was on set for like 12 of his 15 birthdays just filming, and he tells another really sweet Jensen story about how when they were filming Wendigo, it was like the 4th day of filming and it was his birthday and he didn't tell anyone but Jensen found out somehow and surprised him by having the crew sing him happy birthday and get him birthday cake 💕

"Ackles somehow or another found out that it was my birthday. And I think this was like day 4 of filming Wendigo, and I didn't say anything I was like, whatever I'm 23 it is what it is, I'm here to work and then when lunch happened I think Jensen was like 'hey, we're gonna rehearse the next scene before we break for lunch' and I was like okay, cool and so I went back into the set to rehearse and they had a birthday cake for me. I guess he had found out it was my birthday and had them all sing happy birthday to me and had them bring me a birthday cake."

This is so precious 🥹

Anyways, he doesn't really have a birthday tradition, if he were to have a tradition it's that he and G try to go to Italy every summer, and she's currently there so they're gonna spend the week there and try to celebrate this week. x

What's a scene between Sam and C that he would have liked to have seen on the show?

Two part answer to a one part question, he really loves the scene directed by Richard Speight with Sam and Sully, and he loves that Sam had an outlet in Sully to kinda talk about what he wouldn't talk to Dean about, and we're all in those relatonships where the person you care most about it's not that you lie to them but you don't tell them how stressed, or worried, or tired you are so he would have loved to see a scene between Sam and C where Sam thanks C for being there for Dean when Sam can't. With all due respect, that's a no from me. x

Has he heard his french voice in SPN? The actor who dubbed him also dubs Matt Damon and Patrick Dempsey! Also, does he find it weird to hear a foreign voice coming from him?

He finds it really fucking cool. He met in Barcelona, maybe 11yrs ago, the actor who dubbed him. He loves it, he thinks it's so cool. His first experience ever hearing himself dubbed was when he was in Beijing, China back in 2006. They had just finished s1, and he and his buddy who was there were unpacking, and they had the tv on and he heard the trailer for some tv show in the background and his friend started freaking out and told him to look and when Jared looked at the tv it was him in s1. So '06 or '07, he doesn't remember, in the summer he went to China and saw it dubbed in Mandarin, and he found it the coolest thing that's ever happened in his life. Says that if anybody wants to dub him, in any language, DM him, he loves it.

He'd love to watch it, and to meet the performer who does it in French as well. x

What's the secret to his and Jensen's brotherhood?

This questions is possibly a version of his favorite question that could ever be asked about SPN. The main thing he can say is that whatever you see on camera though Jensen and he were playing Sam and Dean Winchester they weren't faking shit. It was real to them and it was and still is an amazing life lesson that you get out of something what you put into it, if you half ass something whether it's a friendship, marriage, profession, diet, excercise routine, you're gonna get half-assed results. If you go 'fuck it, i'm all in and if I get hurt I get hurt and I'll abandon ship and do something else' and they went all in like he thinks sometimes he can think about when that moment happened but he thinks both he and Jensen just went like 'you know what this is found family, could be found family'.

Maybe Jensen turns out to be an asshole, maybe he (Jared) turns out to be an asshole and if that happens then he can reverse and put his guards back up and say this guy is a jerk or vice versa Jensen can say he's a jerk about him, but they both just kinda went all right I'm gonna trust you, they didn't say the words but they had that kind of non verbal communication and went after it, and he to this day loves the guy like a brother. And there are ups and downs, somebody goes through something in their life and he'll speak for himself sometimes when he's super stressed out he can be a little curt, a little maybe caustic, snarky or sarcastic and his buddies around him have to be like 'hey, you're kind of being a dick are you alright?' and he'll go 'no i'm not alright im going through this' but having that trust- he knows he and Jensen found that with SPN in Sam and Dean, and he loves their relationship like he wants that for his sons. He doesn't want the rebar but he wants them to rely on each other.

That he heard a great quote: parents leave us too soon, we're not around long enough for our children, siblings are the ones we go through life with. And he thinks siblings can mean anything, if you're an only child, it's your friend, it's your buddy, you need a partner, you need two people in that rowboat. It doesn't need to be somebody who's there everyday but somebody you can go to, and you might not agree all the time but life is not about agreement otherwise why go through life if you have nothing to learn, if everything you say is right, so he thinks they just trust each other and he doesn't know why but they held each others careers in each others hands and were like 'I got you, you got me? Yeah. All right let's get to work'. ❤️

On SPN G was like the demon on his shoulder, on Walker she's like the angel on his shoulder what did he like best demon G or angel G?

Storyline wise he loved demon G. Says, he's a weird guy, he's a nice guy but he's a weird guy because he loves being around people he loves and trusts that are intelligent when he grew up, in High School he was into debating so sometimes he wants to say something not because he means it but because he trusts somebody else's intellect and he wants to hear their reaction and response and he hopes they'll want to hear his as well so he'll say something like he thinks lights should be outlawed and we should go back to candles because this is bad for the enviroment and someone will counter reply he likes the minutia, he likes the back and forth, he likes conflict, conflict is what storytelling is about often and it's whatever the reminder of after conflict has been settled it's whatever the reminder is that teaches the audience and to an extent the performers what the whole scene was about in the first place, it's never what you think it's about. So, he likes that but as far as angel G in Walker it's been fun to show her off to his Austin cast and crew, especially during the covid days when no one else was allowed so he guesses he should say angel G, Emily, so she can come back to s4. x

...I could say something but I'm not going to....

Last question, was he able to sight see in Poland?

He answers that he finally got to his motherland Poland and it was amazing. He had a great time, he was there for 9 days but it was for a USO tour so everyday he was at a different base so not a lot of sight seeing but he saw a lot, he saw a lot of the country. The fan asks if he got to see any of the beaches, he did not, they were inland the whole time he didn't even know they had beaches. He also didn't get to see Katowice which is where his grandparents are from but he'll go back, he wants to go back; it was a lot of trying to give back to people who were in the front lines of the Ukraine-Russia conflict so there wasn't a whole lot of time for traffic or tourism but he can't wait to go back, he had a great time, loved the people. x

Jared JIB13 Saturday

#jared padalecki #noniwtv #mine #j2 #j2 tinhat

[horsesteak]

“Now thank the good lordy above this absolute belter of a nook is still open in the wee hours of the day!”

The sudden blast of energy the newcomer radiated as his voice joyfully boomed through the tiny, cramped eatery was an immediate overdose for the overworked waitress. It was far too late (or rather, early, according to the man) for this sort of social interaction.

Check out Everything and Nothing by beans (with 6 e's and 6 a's) on AO3! Also check out my co-artist @gearbroth 's (!!!) art on their blog!

For the 2023 TF2 Big Bang! @tf2bigbang

~~~

See below for bonus sketches and infodump!

It's been a while since I did a big art piece like this. It was fun, and it got me experimenting with watercolour pencils for the first time. I'm still learning the craft, and as much as I want my first ever watercolour painting to be perfect, it'll have to do. I'm satisfied with my attempt this time.

Although I do wish I could capture the painting in a higher resolution; phone camera and scanner couldn't cut it, everything is still a bit blurry. Here's the best I can take on my phone:

It's also the original colours, before digital shenanigans were done to it. The work of a sleep deprived art wizard waving his silly little magic wand tool to get everything to look nicer.

The original concept for this mini-comic came to me while I was sitting under a tree, halfheartedly trying to study for my two exams the next day. I quickly sketched this:

I honestly like the lineart of this sketch better than the final. What could be better than demo's sparkley anime eyes?

I was excited I finally came up with an idea after being high and dry for weeks. Basically my mental state:

I was going to have Demo stride in, burst through that door with exuberant energy that filled the Spy's shitty dead-end cafe. And also showcase his traditional Scottish garb, which let me tell you is a whole rabbithole that I eagerly leapt into while researching for cultural accuracy. (I tend rely on real life references alot. Trying to branch out to stylised drawing would be cool.)

What happened next were these little sketches on post-it notes. I draw on them first before committing paper because...it's fun :)

Also in this case, this is a comic, so I could rearrange the drawings how I liked, so this was actually goated.

In the second image, see another case of liking the lineart more than the final. I had half a mind to keep that sketch of Spy and paint over it, but that wasn't watercolour paper, so no... :(

I was surprised how well the sketches turned out. Bloody hell, I'm an artistic genius! Now lets see how that translates to paint, eh? Well, you already know.

Some things to improve on, personally, is to make the lineart cleaner next time, so the paint doesn't mix with the pencil to make this weird greyish colour. Anatomy, always. Clothing folds is another big one. And finally, time management. Man, art is a passion, but damn does having too little time screw my art quality over. Well as they say, scarcity breeds innovation.

If you've made it this far, I am putting a virtual turtle (vurtle) in your hand, because turtles are cool, and you are too.

As a bonus bonus to this info-dump, have the original concept sketch while I was feeling out how to draw Demo in formal Scottish suit and kilt.

THAT IS ALL.

#tf2bigbang2023 #tf2 #demoman #tf2 spy #demospy #bomb voyage #tf2 demoman #might add image descriptions later if people want

[edvinssmedvin]

Choking Part 2

Read part 1 here

Summary: Eddie ignores Steve’s hesitancy. Starts off as Eddie’s POV and switches to Steve’s

CW: Angry Eddie, forcing oneself to talk while nonverbal, Silent treatment, intrusive thoughts including suicide.

Eddie didn’t understand, he had taken weeks to plan the trip.

He was even going to surprise Steve by taking him to see some basketball team he liked the next day after the concert.

But no, Steve couldn’t even suck it up by doing something Eddie likes. What kind of shitty boyfriend is he? Eddie was just asking him to do one thing he liked.

He doesn’t care what Steve says, they are going. He worked too hard for this to work for Steve just because he ‘doesn’t want to go’

So while Steve sleeps, he grabs a duffel bag hidden in his boyfriend's closet. Shuffling quietly around the room, careful to not make the slightest amount of noise.

Quiet as a mouse, he ruffles through Steve’s dresser, packing his essentials in his bag. Mentally checking off items in his brain, he’s about to grab a t-shirt to pack but when he lifts it-

He stops short when he finds letters hidden under one of the shirts.

It takes a lot of self-control not to look through them, reminding himself that if Steve doesn’t tell him what it is, he has to respect that.

He places the letters back and places the t-shirts back over it neatly and ignores the worry in his gut.

Steve wakes up with the same numbness in his stomach, his alarm going off way too early for him having the day off of work.

He rubs his eyes, shuffling just close enough to the edge of the bed to shut his alarm off when Eddie comes bustling into the room. he assumes Eddie had stayed the night, too tired to head to the trailer.

When his eyes scan over Eddie, he notices a bag in one of his ring-covered hands and and a poptart in the other.

“C'mon Steve! We have to go get the little shrimps, Indy waits for no man!” He shouts excitedly, causing Steve to wince at the sheer volume so early morning.

He opens and closes his mouth, once again trying to figure out how to get the words out. Hoping they don’t choke him-

“Eddie..” he wishes he could say more than that but his mind betrays him because all he can feel is it choking him.

Eddie places the stuff in his hand on the desk in Steve room, walking towards the bed.

His excited demeanor shifts, unreadable expressions on him, something Steve hasn’t seen before. “No buts Steve!” He exclaims once more.

Eddie goes on, “We promised the shrimps we’d take them and I spent too much money on this to back out because you don’t feel like it.” Eddie walks towards the bed and grabs Steve by the hands, forcing him into a standing position like he was moving a rag doll up.

“Get dressed Steve.”

And with that, Eddie turns around walks out of the room, grabbing his stuff off the desk on the way out.

And oh.

Eddie sounds mad, fuck.

He didn’t mean to make Eddie mad, he just feels so exhausted. He has to make it up to him, he can’t have Eddie hate him over it. He’s learned over the years, just small things can change everything.

He remembers when he was 10 and repeatedly asking his mom to take him to the park to see his friends the next day. She said she’d think about it but when the day came around, she snapped. All he can remember is tears flooding his eyes, blurring the world around him as she yelled. Her often quiet voice turned sickeningly aggressive.

He can’t remember much before that age but It was that day that his mom changed, one mistake and she was gone. leaving him with the nanny.

So he rushes to get ready, running to the bathroom so fast he almost slips on his socks. He brushes his teeth and pushes his hair up into something of a greasy flop on his head.

“Hurry, Steve!” He hears Eddie yell.

And he only goes faster, rushing back to the bedroom to get his clothes on. Running around as if his life depended on it.

When putting his shoes on, he wonders why his jeans feel weird and he realizes he put them on backward.

So then he has to take his shoes off and flip them around, succeeding only in wasting more time. Fuck.

He grabs his wallet, his keys, and his phone off of his nightstand, hoping Eddie has else everything he needs.

Somehow he made it out before Eddie.

So he hops in the driver's seat and waits for Eddie to make his way down to the parking lot, he nervously pops his knuckles hoping to relieve his fast-beating heart.

Butterflies make their way into his stomach, not the ‘I’m in love’ butterflies but butterflies full of dread. They swish and make his stomach tumble, they make his heart race and his head light but it’s nothing like floating in clouds, nothing like love. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Opening his eyes, he pushes his hair out of his face, the gentle touch makes the butterflies calm down only slightly.

He sees Eddie walking toward the car and he slips the key into the ignition and buckles his seatbelt.

He takes the chance to change the radio to a calming station, something quiet.

Eddie opens the door and hops in, slamming the door harshly afterward. He takes another deep breath.

He looks over at Eddie and the metalhead just looks the other way. Away from Steve.

He breaths in and out, reminding himself it’s not gonna choke him. He asks “Can you put your seatbelt on?” He asks quietly as possible, hoping to not feel the vibration of his voice.

he gains an eye roll from Eddie but he still puts his seatbelt on so he counts it as a win.

As he pulls out of the apartment parking lot, at the corner of his eye he can see eddies hand peaking out and changing the radio. He switches the calming station that he had picked out to something loud, not metal but something so loud he knows it would bother Steve.

And not only does the metalhead change it, but he also turns up the volume so loud you could hear the way the speaker grated with the music, like nails on a chalkboard. Steve psychically winces but doesn’t turn the music off.

Too afraid of Eddie’s reaction.

He’s about one mile away from the first kid's house, Dustin’s. He’s just passing Lilly Drive, where the trees tower over the road.

He wonders what would happen if he just took his hand off the wheel…

Would he crash into a tree? Will the glass from the windshield cut him? How much blood would there be? Would his brain-

“Steve? eyes on the road!” Eddie snaps him out of his thoughts, his eyes widen as he swerves along the road.

He takes control of the wheel and forcing the car to stop.

“Jesus Christ” Eddie mutters

He breathes heavily. He can’t believe he almost did that, he wasn’t even thinking. It was like he was moving on autopilot, unable to think and drive at the same time.

He turns to look at Eddie in the passenger. He wants to make sure he is okay but when his boyfriend meets his eye-

“Steve, park the car. I’m driving” and oh no, Eddie looks madder. He didn’t even realize that was possible.

He rushes to force out the words. It’s not choking him, he berates himself. “I’m okay, I can drive.” He doesn’t even know if he believes it.

He hears the seatbelt undo beside him—“I’m driving, Jesus Christ. Your just trying to ruin everything.”—and the passenger door slams.

Steve scrubs a hand over his face. Fuckk

Next part —>

Authors note:

I was bored and so I designed Steves apartment. so if u want to imagine what I think it looks like—

Also! If you have any question, comments or ideas please let me know! I’m kinda just having fun, I have a plot set up of how the story is gonna go but if u have any ideas id love to add them.

#autistic steve harrington #semiverbal steve harrington #mental illness #hurt/comfort #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve needs a hug #so does Eddie #what they do need is COMMUNICATION #author is dyslexic #modern au #established steddie #Steve Harrington needs therapy #let me know if i need to tag anything else

[pagetsgirl]

relapse

TW !! self-harm, mental breakdowns, panic attacks

summary: reader has a triggering case in her hometown, which results in her (i think i don’t use any pronouns but if i do it’s she/her) relapsing, and emily helps her clean up and they snuggle, basically.

a/n: idk if this is bad, but i wrote it at midnight, in the middle of a mental breakdown and instead of relapsing!

pairing: emily prentiss x f?reader

read on ao3 or below the cut

A case in your hometown was shitty enough, but one of the victims being someone you knew from high school did not make it much better. She might’ve bullied you and dated your girlfriend while you were dating here, but it still felt weird.

The UNSUB was kidnapping blonde females in their mid to end 20s. He would kill them approximately 3 days after abducting them. He’d use many torture methods, such as burning, waterboarding and electrocuting them. When he was finally done with that, he’d rape them and stab them through their hearts. He didn’t take time to cool down nor did he show any form of remorse.

This has been going on for weeks, leaving behind 5 dead victims and 1 missing woman. The issue is that we were called in after the last body has been found, and the police department was extremely distrusting, always looking over our shoulders, making it impossible for us to do our job.

But luckily for us, we got a pretty good profile just a day in. He was white, around he same age as the victims, and he had severe anger issues, which he’d show in his daily job and personal live. He probably worked from home, and lived quite far away from people, so he could torture them without needing to worry about their screaming. He probably had a steady income and was of high intelligence. We just weren’t sure how he lured his victims.

So we (mostly JJ) had a press conference and spread the profile. And quickly the tip lines were flooded with ‘tips’. Only one really stood out, and we had Garcia check it out. She quickly found the guy and he fitted the profile to a T. His name was Robin Wilson, he worked and lived on his farm and had a wealthy background.

---

The drive to the ranch was long, and everyone was filled with the usual nerves and adrenaline. Since he was extremely unreliable. We didn’t know if he’d go into flight or fight mode. But hopefully for Mary, the last woman he had kidnapped, he would go into flight mod, or she could very well end up dead.

As we finally reached the ranch, we spotted his old pick-up. Our bodies were buzzing with anticipation, as we quickly pulled on our bulletproof vests.

“l/n, you and Morgan go left, and me and Emily will go right, the others wait for back-up,” Hotch said.

As Morgan and I walked through the empty hallway, we heard a gut wrenching scream from the basement, which had an entrance just in front of us.

We sprinted into the basement, raising up our guns as we tried not to fall down the steep steps. Derek kicked down the door, leading into a small room.

“Tyler?!” I said shocked, as I slightly lowered my gun. Tyler was my childhood best friend. One of my favourite people, a long time he was the only person I could trust. But here he was, with his knife to a poor woman’s throat.

“ah, its Robin now,” he smiled sickly. “Missed me?”

“Ty- Robin, please don’t do this, I don’t want to shoot you.” My voice was soft, not higher than a begging whisper.

“oh? And you think I care? My entire life has been miserable, so why not make someone else’s miserably as well?” He pressed the knife closer to her throat, until he suddenly drew a smile-like line across her neck. Her neck lulled forward, and. Before Morgan could even think about pulling the trigger, I already did. It was a clean shot, right in the middle of his big forehead where I would always tease him about.

Derek ran towards him and kicked the knife away from his dead hands. I stood there, frozen in utter shock.

Time stood still as I stayed there, I didn’t notice the rest of the team barging in.

I killed him.

The first person that ever cared about me.

He’s dead, because of me.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I knew it was Emily, it was always Emily. She whispered something in my ear, but I didn’t register the words. Her hand moved down and reached mine, giving it a soft squeeze before gently leading me back to the SUV’s. She never left my side, not once losing physical contact.

She knew that that was what I needed. The touch helped me ground myself, it took me out of my own mind, and helped me stay with her, something I desperately needed right now.

She got Hotch to drive us back to the hotel. I sat there frozen, just staring out of the window, as Emily tightly held my hand, mindlessly drawing shapes onto it., trying to calm me down, which didn’t seem to be working.

The moment we got to the hotel room, I made my way to the bathroom and locked myself in. I slide down one of the walls, pressing my knees up to my chest.

Hot tears streamed down my face, my hands started shaking and my breathing picked up. I lost complete control over my body and my surroundings.

I haven’t had a panic attack in years. So naturally my brain looked for the only thing it knew would help; cutting. I opened up my phone case, revealing a silver razorblade. I rolled up my sleeve. I was clean for 2 years now. But that’ll all be thrown out the window soon enough.

I attempted to take a deep breath and the blade made a clean cut through the soft skin of my wrist. The pain that followed taking away the pain that I felt inside.

Two cuts,

Three cuts,

Four,

Five,

The blood ran down my arms and drippled onto the bathroom tiles.

I was so lost in the moment, that I didn’t notice the door open. “Bab-“ I looked up. “fuck, no, no, no,” Emily ran towards me and squatted down. She softly grabbed onto the blade and took it away from my arm. “oh, my sweet baby girl,” She mumbled, more to herself than to me. She softly grabbed onto my arm. “let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” I shook my head weakly, attempting to take my arm back. “Let’s just sit here then, yeah, just us two,” She came closer to me and softly wrapped her arms about my frame.

I immediately buried my head into her shoulder and my tears came flooding again.

We sat there for who knows how long, only standing up after Emily insisted. She gently wrapped up my arm, making sure to not wrap it too tight. The pro about being an fbi agent is that we always had med kits with us for when we got slightly injured in the field.

We laid in bed, all wrapped up in each other. “Are you mad at me, cause I’m sorry,” I mumbled, it was the first thing that came out my mouth apart from sobs and gasps for breath. “Of course I’m not mad at you baby, and you really don’t have to apologize, okay?” She looked down at me. “I will help you okay, whenever you need something. I will always be there for you, no matter what.”

#ao3 writer #criminal minds #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #fluff #hurt/comfort #depressing shit #just a vent #wlw

[yezzyyae]

PLEASE WATCH THE SHOW Properly! “THE BEAR”

Nothing makes my stomach hurt more than “Sydney & Carmen love stories” 🥴 I can say if yall wish they were a couple but yall literally lying about scenes in the show! Yall literally ignoring the writers, creators, and actors about how Sydney & Carmen is being written & acted upon. It’s disturbing because I can only imagine what yall everyday lives are like smh

There is not one scene where Carmen & Sydney are glazing at each other secretly in love! Y’all not watching the show correctly and it’s soo fu*king annoying!

Sydney is not jealous of Claire & Carmen’s relationship because she is secretly in love w/ Carmen. Sydney is jealous because she is wired that way. Sydney wants all of Carmen’s attention because she been following his career since eating his food in NY so once she got in his world, she wanted him all to herself. Of course Sydney would want Carmen’s focus because her last business failed so she is banking everything on “The Bear” smh ITS NOT LOVE! Please stop being weird! Carmen is not in love with Sydney smh Carmen was trying to balance his love, life, grief, and business in season 2 not holding on to these secret feelings for Sydney.

ITS SELFISH TO CARMEN’S STORY! To make up things when the show is not a riddle to figure out! Everything is laid out in color for us to see so I don’t understand how yall see Sydney & Carmen in love when Sydney didn’t even know Marcus liked her smh. Sydney is not focus on love right now she just wants to make her dreams come through and working beside Carmy is helping her. Sydney is not the angel on the show smh Sydney doesn’t admit when she is wrong & she is selfish! Carmy never asked Sydney to come back in season 1 finale, he told her to come get her last check. Sydney is not a good #2 and I hope season 3 reflects on that. Season 1 episode 7 “Review” the mistake was Sydney’s and plus she rushed Carmen in the to-gos when they were both not ready. Sydney blaming Carmy is insane to me I hate that whole interaction when she calls him a “shitty person” it’s SELFISH! Sydney never offers her sympathy to Carmen about the loss of his brother who restaurant she came in trying to control. It’s weird Carmen is not a shitty person, he is just a complexed person who does not know how to control his emotions when he is not in control. But Sydney is just selfish to me smh “The Bear” is Carmen’s dream and he brings Sydney along because he never had a mentor other than Mikey Berzatto. But Sydney only sees herself and nobody else. I hate how ppl watch the show & take from it that Sydney is the best chef and person but she was very mean to Richie bringing up his daughter in their argument was DISGUSTING! Sydney takes advantage of Carmy’s fragile mental state & try to turn the restaurant into her own. Why the fuck would “The Beef” sell Cola-Braised Short Ribs and Risotto when they just making greasy ass beef sandwiches smh it’s weird and stupid!

ITS NOT ENOUGH TIME IN THE DAY FOR ME TO BREAK DOWN SYDNEY ADAMU’S CHARACTER NOW. SOON SHE WALKED IN THE DOOR OF “THE BEEF” SHE WAS DOING BOOK REPORTS LIKE CARMY DOESN’T SEE THE THINGS THAT NEEDS TO BE CHANGE! HE WAS ONLY THERE FOR 2 WEEKS BEFORE SYDNEY GOT THERE THO! 2 WEEKS HE WAS JUST TRYING TO FIGURE THINGS OUT & GRIEVING BUT SYDNEY CAME IN & TOOK ADVANTAGE!

I’m not done ima do another analysis of SYDNEY ADAMU! I am so annoyed I hate how she is looked at as the Angel of the show when she is just ass shitty ass Carmen.

#sydney adamu #carmy x sydney #anti Carmy x Sydney #I hate Sydney Adamu #fuck Sydney #Carmy is the best! #Sydney Adamu sucks! #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #I love Ayo Edebiri tho ❤️ #ayo edebiri #Ayo Edebiri is soo funny & perfect! #but I hate Sydney Adamu soo fucking much! #syd adamu #sydney x carmy