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#idk i feel like this happens a lot and its like
yonpote · 2 days
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mr. pote please explain shoe ig story for the ignorant (me)
not much to explain other than. dan posted an instagram story of their shoes pressed together
ok i guess ill share a LITTLE context. around late january to early february 2023 was when dan was having a mini-break from touring for philly's bday before he had to hit the road for the non-uk european shows. the thing is, there were kind of a lot of complications happening wrt tickets, especially problems surrounding the iceland show, which dan had hyped up as where he was going to end the tour, and pj even mentioned on stream that he and sophie would possibly meet dan and phil there and have essentially a double date holiday! the day before the Shoe Pic, dan had announced that the iceland show was cancelled. he posted the cancellation on his story in icelandic, here is the english translation:
Sorry for the frozen people. Couldn't bring this show to your island this trip, that's all I can say for now. It's on my bucket list to be with you one day. I'll see you then.
he then posted an ig story where he seemed to be out on a walk that was quite self-deprecating on the fact that no one takes him seriously "in life, business, or the industry." it was just a bummer day for dan. so a few twitter phannies (back when there was a Little peace) thought to make an encouraging hashtag for dan, #weloveyoudan to show some appreciation for him when he really seemed to need it! (this also spawned an in-joke hashtag my good friend @editingz0ne made, #giveamazingphilnukes, that phil tweeted about 💀)
so the next day, when dnp had both posted while at an apex legends esports competition thing, we all kinda inferred that this was a lil date, possibly as another phil bday present (still his bday week) or as a lil gift to cheer dan up, or both! and then. he posted the fuckin shoe pic.
listen. idk how to explain it. it just. felt like something so weirdly intimate? like, no idea what the context is, other than theyre sitting in the back of a cab and took a photo of their shoes pressed together. and like one is clearly phil's shoe and the other clearly dan's shoe, and i assume theyre the same shoe size (do not tell me wikifeet ppl i dont need to know) and so they just. fit perfectly together. and all this was after the harrowing previous day, and after all that dan just decided to let us in on this picture that is so silly and not really anything and yet feels so personal? its like when we hear their alien language in the texting vids, or that they get fries every saturday and call it "fry-day". like its not a bit its not playing up a dynamic for a camera its just. THEM! its just them!!!!!!!! anyway thank you for coming to my ted talk on the dan and phil shoe photo taken on february 5th, 2023 by dan howell.
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heyidkyay · 3 days
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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |
Part Twenty-Two
Matty Healy x reader
Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.
What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 
Authors Note: hi… I’m back? Idk if anyone noticed I dipped lmao, but! Back with another update of this fic and it’s a deep one, left off on uneven ground last time so here’s me clearing that up:) sort of.
Warnings: emotions. <maybe not needed but like, lots of emoting so. Quite a few references to Matty’s past, drug-use/overdosing, previous acts of slight violent and the usual stuff w him and this fic I guess (all mentions are brief)
ALSO back and forth changes of pov between Mouse and Matty so keep an eye out x
> Last update: look back here if you'd like!
Masterlist
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Thing was, waking up had never come very easily to Matty. Even as a longtime insomniac.
Sleep came and went in staggered stages. He struggled with falling into it and then struggled with staying there in that languid state. It was almost as though his body was held prisoner by his mind and the thoughts which seemed to forever war there.
The drugs had fixed that, mostly. Stopped his heart. His lungs. And then finally, his brain. Leaving him in this tranquil haze, floating somewhere in between everything and nothing, muting those militant thoughts, blanketing his rampage of never-ending emotions. 
It was the numbness that he had craved. The nothing.
By the time he’d been shipped off to his first stint in rehab, he was utterly clueless as to just how terrifying it could all seem without it. What with the crutch no longer there. Reckoned he still had scabs that wouldn’t properly heal from all the time he’d spent scratching in that tiny box room they’d given him. Never really sleeping and only ever blinking awake. 
It sort of felt like that now. Opening his eyes to find that the world had tilted sideways once again, the wall slanted and the television opposite morphed longways. He sniffed, feeling the heaviness that immediately encompassed his head as he fought to force himself up onto his elbows.
It was quick, the sudden pressure that ripped through the joints, and he hissed as he peered down to find that the skin had been shred to bits, now blotted with flakes of rusted blood that had to have come from the night before.
“Here.”
Matty blinked blearily, swallowing around a lump in his throat before casting his eyes up slowly to find a glass being shoved towards him. He took it, skin prickling at the sudden chill he was met with and face scrunching up in distaste. 
He didn’t move to take a sip though, even with how dry his mouth then seemed, instead rubbed at his tired eyes before he dropped his hand completely to find Ross already settled on the adjoining armchair. Matty realised a beat too late that he must’ve passed out on the man’s settee, just as a forlorn feeling settled somewhere in his stomach, the evident reminder of the promise he’d been given the morning before hitting him.
‘You can even head back here after if you want.’
He’d wanted. He was forever wanting when it came to her. But he could hardly even recall making it through Ross’s front door, let alone contacting her at any point last night. Brow furrowing over how much he would have had to have drunk. 
“Time’s it?” Matty forced himself to ask, voice more guttural than he was used to, grogginess seeping into the edges of it as he settled himself a little better on the settee. He took a small sip of the water, testing the weight it would leave in his lead filled stomach before taking a couple more larger gulps. He settled it down on the console beside him after and then chanced another glance over at Ross, who looked as much a state as Matty felt. “Hm?” He tacked on when he was met with a bland look.
“Just gone one.”
Matty’s brows shot up at that, before he slumped further into the settee cushions. His head now ached something awful and he felt flushed to fuck, sweat causing the back of his tee to stick to the curve of his spine. “Shit.” He muttered unhappily, the familiarity of a migraine already setting in.
The word was met by a drawl chuckle. And look- Matty had known Ross for far too fucking long not to automatically hone into the odd quirks or reactions the bloke tended to favour, which was why he was already frowning when he squinted back over at him.
Ross had since turned his head against the back of the armchair, enough so that Matty could now see the darker sheen that sat beneath his lidded eyes whilst Ross’s gaze flickered over him. He didn’t say a word, merely chucked Matty’s own phone his way.
Feeling his forehead pinch, Matty forced himself to grit his teeth against the flare of pain that shot through his ankle when the thing purposefully missed his open hand and hit the bone of his ankle. “Fuck’s wrong with you?” He snarled at the oversized twat, picking the poxy thing up before rubbing at the offended joint.
Matty wasn’t offered up much of an answer though, what with Ross silently shaking his head at him. So he rolled his eyes in addition, lifting a finger up towards his face to rub at an eyelid before he finally managed to flip his phone the right way around and get a good look at it.
[HOMESCREEN]13:02
News 21 mins ago Back on a bender, Healy?The 1975 frontman was spotted out last night in an argument which quickly escalated and ruined a certain band member's birthday celebrations…
Twitter 28 mins ago Topic - music@/The1759: Matty captured in a deal gone wrong down in London?? Nahhhhh we all saw the relapse coming but this is just insaneeee...
BBC News - UK & World Stories 43 mins ago Matty Healy takes family bonding to whole new levels Hit singer spotted with girlfriend's son in an altercation whilst out in London earlier this month!
Messages 1hr ago Hann Ring me when you see this
The Independent 12:09 Singer, to the international band known as The 1975, was seen multiple times over the coming weeks in a variety of altercations that hinder his so-called sobriety, one of which was pictured and also witnessed by the young son of the frontman’s most recent fling. ‘Mouse’ as dubbed by her radio show, MouseOnAMic, has yet to comment on the behaviour concerning both her boyfriend and child, we continue…
News 11:44 This is how it starts! Matty Healy’s road back to rehab? Police were called in to break up a celebratory party held on the stretch of Soho in the early hours of this morning. Many faces were pictured amongst the masses, but most noticeably was singer Matthew Healy of The 1975, who was seen outside of a nearby club arguing with another man holding a bag..
Had you ever felt the floor just slip out from under you? 
Or maybe even the way that the Earth seemed to suddenly stop spinning, enough so that you could feel every little thing that was happening inside of your body? 
The swell of oxygen being forced out of your lungs. 
The rush of blood attempting to find the place of impact, susceptible to the sudden pain that’s been felt. 
Or even, the pulsing beat of every desperate squeeze your heart made in the very tips of your fingers?
There was a sudden sickness that clawed at the cage that bound Matty's chest together, thickening the walls of his throat and heavy enough that he had to inhale so deeply that the air demanded the bile to retreat back, back, back... Until his gut was the only thing churning and all he’d been left with as the most bitter aftertaste.
It was everywhere. Plastered all over Twitter, mentioned in every news outlet around for miles. Just there. Taking up the screen of his phone- and every other fuckers- without so much as a warning. Pictures, stories, accusations…
Evidence, a part of his twisted mind whispered.
But it was. A trail of wrongdoings which had led right back to that very day he’d spent with Teddy.
Teddy- 
God, how the fuck could he have been this mindless? This fucking blind. How had he messed up so badly?
It didn’t feel immediate, the way he moved to grapple his phone, scrolling in search of her name, for her contact, but it was. It was just instinctive. Thoughtless, how suddenly overwhelming the need to hear her voice was. To make sure that she was alright. Not wondering over whether she’d still be there waiting for him- no matter how heavy that thought now weighed on his dreaded mind. He simply needed her to be alright. And for Teddy to be none the wiser. For him to be okay. Just okay.
He remembered bits and pieces. It was slowly coming back now. An old face. Being offered something or other. He’d refused. He remembered he told the guy no. He’d been tempted, fuck had he been so tempted. But he knew better. Deep down. And he remembered saying no. Remembered pieing the guy off, having a light laugh, backing away. But then there had been a throw of hands, a split lip, the ringing crack of a jaw that had made his mind spin with flashbacks of Luke. Of the roof. Of his face hitting the cold empty pavement.
Matty could vaguely recall shouts and calls. George’s wide eyes. Ross’s hands gripping his arms. Hann already on the phone.
Tempted.
He’d been tempted.
It was that thought which played on an endless loop in his head whilst the ring of his phone echoed out into an otherwise silent room.
A flash of faces rattled across the forefront of his mind; expressions, voices, the need to please, a need to entertain.
She didn’t answer. The line went dead.
So he tried again.
Then a third time.
“Fuck.” Matty muttered breathlessly to himself, the panic in his voice breaking up the quiet that stretched between one ring and then the next.
She didn’t answer.
She didn’t answer.
Thing was, I’d always known it had been coming. As pessimistic as I was.
But hope was a fickle fucking thing. It made me cut the tip of my tongue on the front of my teeth to keep from ruining perfect moments with thoughtless words. It found its way into the little things I had done and still did. It allowed me just a second to smile, for no other reason than simply being. Than belonging.
Because that was what hope did.
It was also the very thing which had forced me to let my guard down, for those walls of mine to slip. It had granted him entrance into the life I’d so steadily built for myself on rocky foundations and borrowed time. 
It had broken me so easily and effortlessly. Wrapped me up in nothing but an empty pang of regret that rang out for miles and miles.
I stared blankly up at the ceiling laid out above me, counting down the minutes until Teddy finally woke once more. Only this time it would be from the sun rising up over the overpass, rather than his mum slipping in to curl up beside him in the early hours of the morning when it had all grown too much. Her need to know that he was okay, her helpless guilt and the pain which had felt all-consuming.
I wondered over the times Matty had been in here with him, putting Teddy to sleep, laughing together, telling him drawn out stories and singing old melodies. I wondered what he’d been thinking in those dotted moments. If he’d been thinking anything at all.
I questioned how stupid I had to have been, how blind to not have seen it. The lies, because he'd done it so effortlessly. The web he had spun, just in an attempt to deceive me. All laid out before my fucking eyes. And he hadn’t even had the decency to tell me to my face. No, instead I’d had to watch it all unfold alongside the rest of the world.
My tongue licked over my lower lip which had since been bitten raw, having dragged it between my teeth in both panic and pity. Because even though I was angry, a bigger part of me still cared. Still continued to worry. Because oh, how I worried. And wasn’t that the most depressing part?
Here I was, concerned about him, whilst he was out doing whatever, fucking whoever, taking whatever. I’d seen the fucking pictures. I’d seen them all. Scrolled and scrolled until I’d come up to the last fuck-off headline. Until his face had morphed into somebody else, and then someone else’s after that.
The reasonable half of me, the half I was attempting to stamp down and drown out, also knew that what you saw online wasn’t always what it appeared. But still, it looked too much like my biggest fucking fear being brought to life to care enough. I simply wished to have him here, so that he could either explain himself to me or so that I could use him as an object to simply scream at. To rally against.
Because I couldn’t believe he’d gone and done the very thing I'd been so terrified of. That he had done it, and that he then had lied to me. That he had chosen to drag my fucking son into it. Into his fucking mess of a life! After-
After everything I’d given to him.
The thought made me question how much I was worth. How easily I could be tossed aside and shit all over.
A hand tightened around my wrist then and my tired eyes startled over to where a matching set now peered right back at me. Though these eyes were accompanied by a sleep filled smile and not haunted like mine.
I reached up to run a hand through Teddy’s soft curls, thumb brushing over his hairline before it trailed its way down the slope of his tiny nose. “Morning, lovely.”
My chest tightened at the hold Teddy found on my arm then, tucking himself up under it so that he could bury his face into the crook of my neck, those little hands of his coming up to clutch at the fabric of my shirt. I chuckled softly, unable to do much else with the surprise that coursed through me, and hugged him back.
“You okay?” I murmured into his hair, pecking the crown of his head and willing the tightness in my throat to go away. I wouldn't cry, not now.
“Sleepy.” Teddy answered me and I felt him smile against my skin when I chuckled quietly, dragging him even closer to me.
“You know what? Me too.”
His little hand started to gently pat my back then and it broke my heart that little bit more, “Stay here, ‘kay? Keep sleepin’.” 
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, enough so that I was too scared to even speak, so instead I merely nodded, hoping that he’d feel it and somehow know.
“‘Kay.” He repeated after a moment in a hushed whisper, fingers clutching at the back of my shirt, “Love you.”
I bit down on my tongue hard enough to warrant some bleeding, the taste of bitter metal slowly filling my mouth whilst I willed myself to be strong. To not cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him.
“Love you too, baby.”
He’d wanted to go charging over there.
Mid panic-attack, itching for a drink, or a fucking fix. Fucking anything to keep his mind from imploding the way it currently was.
He wanted.
He so desperately wanted.
He’d shucked on his boots without much thought, paying heedless wonder to Ross’s words, his desperate attempts to get him to listen. ‘Cause it was all for nought.
His chest burned with a fearsome ache that could light pyres. It was all that he could focus on to get him through the front door of Ross’s flat and out into the hallway. There was only one other door on his floor, on the far end. Though it was empty, Ross having bought it out, loaded enough now to not have to fret about futile things like neighbours. 
“Matt! For fucks sake, Matty!” Matty heard Ross stress before fingers were catching around his upper arm, the grip too tight, too overwhelming, stopping him in his stride.
Not even thinking Matty wrenched himself away, hard enough that it put a good distance between him and the bassist, pinking the skin of his bicep. His mind was working overtime, tick tick ticking. He was overstimulated and buzzing with an unfound energy that wasn’t unlike a bout of withdrawal shakes.
“The fuck happened last night?”
The sound of his own voice surprised him, forced his shoulders up and his gaze to widen, to hone in on the only other occupant that took up the narrow hall.
“What the fuck happened, Ross!” Matty demanded again, stomper now, inching slowly back over towards Ross and the still swinging door he’d just torn open. 
Ross was staring back at him, reminiscent of days Matty had spent denying his ever increasing drug use, or the multiple overdose scares they'd been forced through. Matty could feel his pulse jumping beneath his skin now, hands shaking to the rhythm of it, but he could not for the life of him take a breath, so focused on Ross and his unmoving form until-
“What didn’t happen, Matty?”
The sting came then. Not just the metaphor for the way Ross’s words had gone and slapped him across the face, no, the sting that threatened to close his throat and wet his eyes. What didn’t happen.
“I need to know, Ross. ‘Cause my head-” Matty raised a trembling hand, dragging the limb down over his face before he was just stood there shaking his head, “It’s fucked. My head's fucked and I, I can’t. I can't remember even getting here. Can’t remember leaving that fucking club or fucking curling up on your sofa! I don’t know what could have happened for me to have fucked up this much.”
A long pause dragged between them then, Ross watching him like an injured stray he wasn’t sure whether or not to lure closer and take home. Whilst the hallway continued on in its stoney silence, not a peep being heard from anyone or anything, only allowing Matty’s hard and fast breaths to break it up and echo out along the walls. Taunting him.
“You didn’t take anything.”
It was both the worst and best thing Ross could have said. Matty’s shoulders slumped with the weight of it and he dipped his head down between the bones of his collar in lieu of an answer. He hadn’t taken anything. But, maybe if he had then there would be a fucking excuse, a way to annul all of his shitty actions. The choices which had inevitably led him here.
“You didn’t take anything,” Ross repeated after antoher stretch of time, eyes flickering back and forth over Matty’s sad face, “but you did fuck off for a while after. Found you slurring and pissed beyond belief down some back alley of another club a mile off. You,” He paused there- stuttered with uncertainty in truth, but Matty fixed him with a terrified look, whole body ceasing with it. “You were with some girl, Matt. She was as gone as you but she said she’d only wanted to help.”
A girl.
Right.
Right, yeah, no that made sense. He’d gotten drunk, she’d just stepped in to help. He, he wouldn’t have-
“And that’s it? You’re sure?”
Ross continued to stare back at him for a second or two, then his body slumped with a sigh, “I don’t know, Matty.”
“You don’t know?” Was his incredulous retort, “What the fuck am I meant to do with that, Ross? Did anything fucking happen or not?” Matty demanded, thoughtlessly taking another step closer. Ross, true to his nature, didn’t move away, merely stood his ground.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” Ross reiterated with a sharp edge, as close as he’d ever get to shouting Matty knew. “You’re the only one who was, Matty. You go figure it out.”
Matty scoffed angrily, fisting his trembling hands at his side before they could lash out. “Yeah, and how’d you figure I do that then, hey?”
Ross took a breath, hand coming up to rub at his tired face. He shrugged and Matty could see just how exhausted he seemed with everything, with him. “All I know is you’d worked yourself up into a right state before you did your vanishing act, mate. Said something about Teddy, then about messing things up. I tried to talk some sense into you, I mean, we all did. But man, you were hellbent on fucking it all up completely.”
Ross’s throat bobbed and he looked off to the side, out of a nearby window that showcased the looming clouds above, before his gaze trailed back over to Matty’s defeated form.
“One second you were there, and the next you were gone.”
Matty couldn’t seem to find a reply to that.
Could only stand there. Questioning what the fuck he’d gone and done.
Hours passed, and then days.
Matty spent each minute trying to right his wrongs, to figure it all out. He’d called, he’d texted constantly. Basically barraged her with the little he had left to give. But heard nothing in return.
Hann had turned up in search of him later that afternoon he’d woken up round Ross’s and his entire life had been shot to shit. The man had practically boxed him back inside the flat and out of the hallway, forcing him to hole up there until the storm he’d created outside died down.
Not that it was much use. The storm only grew, more stories coming out, people stepping forward with fake tales and photoshopped pictures. Ross promised to talk to Mouse for him, but the most he’d been able to manage was an argument with Adi. Which hadn’t worked out all that well for Matty either as it turned out, seeing as how that had only proved to sour Ross’s already shitty mood, eventually putting the two of them on the outs.
Hann had tried too, attempting to contact Squeaks directly instead of through her mate. But had also come up with nothing. He’d been muttering away on the phone to Jamie since though, and Matty knew out of the five of them, it was probably him that Mouse would say something to. So Matty was avoiding him like the sodding plague, which was all too easy to do now that his phone was shattered to bits from a spiteful reaction to yet another unanswered call. 
He knew Jamie would tell it to him straight, see. That Mouse could just as easily end things through him properly rather than face to face, that’s if things hadn’t already ended between them.
So day three and Matty was basically bouncing off the walls, having already raided what little alcohol Ross kept in his flat the previous day and worked his way through the last of the smokes Adam had dropped round a couple hours before.
He was ticking with the need to move. To fucking escape the flat he’d been confined to.
He’d also had yet to hear from G either.
Which, Matty couldn’t lie was surprising. So when he wasn’t trying to talk his way out of the flat or make plans to set things straight between him and Squeaks, he was prying Ross and Hann for answers.
Not that it was worth the effort. Neither said a thing. Or well, they’d said the same thing, repeatedly. ‘He’s just busy.’
Busy his pasty fucking arse. If George was anything, it was a decent fucking mate. Even when Matty had messed up time and time again, he’d been there. Fucking found him that last time he’d been face down and coughing on his own bile, hadn’t he? G always came through.
Just not now, it seemed.
Matty’s head snapped up at the sound of the front door opening and immediately jumped up off the settee to round the corner to see just who it was. Then was all too quick to reel back, shaking his head in utter dismay as he walked his way back across the living room and out onto the balcony.
He heard a sigh sound behind him just as he wrenched open the door. “Matty...”
“I’m not doing this today.”
Matty threw himself down onto one of the deck chairs that had probably come with the place and cursed at the feel of dampness that instantly seeped its way into the burrowed joggers he wore. He tutted, sitting forward in the seat and reaching down to see that the chair hadn't managed to keep itself shielded from last night's rain. “Fuck sake.” He muttered under his breath but didn’t make a move to stand, figured he’d probably sat in worse.
He didn’t look back over either when the sliding door opened again and Jamie stepped on out to join him, though he did hollow his cheeks in irritation when said man tossed a pack of cigarettes into his lap and situated himself against the glass railing. “Gonna talk now?”
Matty merely opened the pack up, chucking the cellophane somewhere to the left of him and shaking two out. He stuck one between his lips and put the other back in upside down. Stretching out a hand, he used the other to tuck the pack into the band of his joggers, and then forced a snide smile when Jamie ultimately handed him his lighter. 
Two clicks and it was lit, he didn’t spare the man the favour of handing it back to him though, simply tossed it onto the end of the deck chair.
Jamie sighed once more, but Matty figured the older man was more than used to his ever changing emotions by now. Still, he knew he was acting the prick. It was just easier to be a prick and push Jamie away, than let the man fucking hurt him first. Not that he even would, it was just- Mouse, weren't it? Mouse and Jamie were mates, they spoke. They’d been fucking mates before even Matty had thought to even snag her number, before he’d attempted to even try to rid himself of the picture of her his mind had held onto. Jamie would tell it to him straight.
“She’s fuming.”
See?
Matty’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, catching on the front of his teeth and relieving the words with a sharp, albeit subtle sting. He swallowed thickly, eyes flickering quickly over to Jamie and then away again. “Like, bad?”
Jamie scoffed out a humourless chuckle and so in turn, Matty scowled, flicking the remnants of his fag ash out before turning to place the glare on the man.
“Yeah, as in on a scale from one to fucking ten, how pissed is she?”
With a heavy inhale- as though the question had been oh so demanding- Jamie looked up at the cloudy sky before eventually trailing his eyes back down again. “I don’t know.” Matty shook his head irritably, but Jamie just continued on, “But what I do know is that she’s messed up over it. Almost as bad as you, from the looks of it.”
And didn’t that just have Matty’s mind going down in a tailspin. He balled a hand up against his right thigh, letting his nails bite into the skin of his palm whilst his unblinking eyes casted themselves out onto the foggy sky rise of London.
A short scuffle sounded and then Jamie was sitting in the chair beside him, though he’d seemingly had the foresight to wipe it dry first. “Look, mate, it’s bad. But if you’ve done nothing wrong, then it’s something you can fix.”
“Nothing wrong?” Matty scoffed, the tick of his jaw keeping him from taking another drag of his cigarette. “Everything I do is wrong, man.” He let his head drop into his hand at that, the tremble of it more prominent now than it had ever been, “I can’t fix it, J. How can I? The fuck would I even start?”
The chill of the city air crawled up over the thin tee that covered Matty's shoulders, wrapping him up in it, but he could hardly feel a thing past the blur of thoughts that crowded the inside of his mind. Still, he shivered, jumping ever so slightly when Jamie’s hand came to settle on the top of his neck.
“Matty, listen to me.”
And that didn't help.
“All I’ve been doing is fucking listening! Listened to Hann, listened to pissin' Ross. Listened when they said not to go charging over there, to give her time, to give her fucking space! But they were wrong. If-” Matty hissed, rubbing at the sting that had settled behind his eyes, rubbing them raw, “If only I could explain! If I could just talk to her. I only want to make sure that she’s alright. To see her for myself.”
The breath of Jamie’s next sigh got swept up in the wind but Matty felt it all the same, but then the man’s hand tightened its hold on his shoulder and he felt Jamie dip his head in a gentle nod.
“I’ll work something out, yeah?”
And with those five words Matty’s head was snapping up, watery eyes honed in on his managers ageing face as though it held all the fucking hope in the world. And at that moment it fucking felt as though it did. Or it could have done.
“Yeah? Don’t fucking say it and then fall through on me, J. I can’t deal with that shit right now.” Matty told the man almost desperately, chest rising and falling aimlessly as he stared back at him.
Jamie simply chuckled, bracing himself with a smile. “When have I ever fallen through on you lot?”
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faru-itsok · 3 days
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hi! and congratulations on having watched the new movie :) i'm curious, what are your top favorite dcmk movies and where would 27 rank?
HI! Thanks 🤗✨ and that is a difficult question 😅 hmm I will do a top 10!
So let's start!
1. Movie 27 “the million dollar pentagram”
Well after watching the movie it just moved right up the list, I just had to see Aoko there and it automatically became the best movie ever! Hahaha well it is a bit true, but the main reason is that the movie is entertaining, it had me giggling and shocked and then it had action and a bit of angst, it just worked so well I loved it!
2. Movie 19 “Sunflowers of inferno”
To be honest I would put these 3 movies as my seconds( 19, 26, 22), I really liked them so much, but I'm a huge Vincent van Gogh fan! I have been painting replicas of his works (not in an illegal way? Just painting for school projects, for me and gifts) since I was in middle school and when you combine my love for Kid and My love For art well… yeah it takes the cake 😅
3.Movie 22 “Zero the enforcer”
I had a hard time placing 22 and 26 i just find these are the best movies objectively speaking, they had a lot of action and are very quick movies, like there is always something happening and get your attention from start to finish, now 27 has that too and its why it jumped right above all XD. Now this one takes 3rd place because i just watch it more often, like when i travel or im bored and want to watch something exiting this is my go to movie along with movie 4 thats the only reason its above 26
4. Movie 26 “Black iron submarine”
As i said above this might as well be my second favorite as well, is a very well constructed movie, when I showed it to my family I actually said “this might be the best Conan movie in existence” to which my sister answered “because of Kaito Kid?” and when I said he didn't appear on it she actually felt curious enough to watch it and liked it. I really like the way things unfolded, had me focused the whole time and enjoyed it a lot.
5. Movie 4 “Captured in her eyes”
One of the best movies in my opinion! It has that quick peace that I like in movies and I just find it so beautiful!
6. Movie 14 “The lost ship in the sky”
This is other of my go to movies, it has that weird combination between action and humor that I love and I just loved the team work between Kaito and Conan
7. Movie 23 “The fist of the blue Sapphire”
It was a good movie! Don't get me wrong, I feel I should love it more, not that I don’t, is just it's not one of those movies I would seek to lift my spirits but the one I would watch to see just how cool Kid is and inspire me to write something😅
8. Movie 25 “The bride of Halloween”
I think the main reason this is even on the top 10 is because of Furuya Rei, I liked it a lot! Like most of the movies of DetCo but it lacked the sparkle? Idk I feel like I saw what was coming from the beginning but it was enjoyable. I loved the scenes of his past and Takagi acting like Matsuda 👌🏻✨
9. Movie 3 “The last wizard of the century”
It's just a classic you know? Like the whole story was entertaining, how Kid blew up a fucking power central just to find where the eggwas? the attempting murder on Kid, how he later saved Shinichi’s ass? It was glorious I really liked it but not as the ones up
10. Movie 20 “The darkest nightmare”
It's a great movie! I'm putting it down here because it made me love a character and then took it away from me so quickly that it makes me emotional when I watch it 😭😂✨
Wellp thats my top 10 is obviously based on my personal preferences and i tend to like the movies where Kid appears because it ads a bit to the comical area and the action (I have always loved movies with heists and thievery (not only kid and lupin the 3 ones)) so yep I hope you guys like this and i’ll be delighted to read your top 10 as well!
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comradekatara · 2 days
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saw ur post on lok n the bender v nonbender oppression dynamics (or lack of ig) n if u dont mind me talking in ur inbox for a min but like. i think if lok wanted to explore the concept of oppressor/oppressed in a "post"-revolution world, i think it couldve been done if the shows main premise circulated around 'following politics as a principle v as a reactionary identity'. now this would require the writers being ppl who understand the nuances of oppression n history of oppressed ppl also sometimes taking up spaces as oppressors etc. but like. it couldve been interesting. oppressed ppl coming out of really fucked up oppressive regimes n how they reacted bc emotionally ur all over the place n u have a lot of emotions bc *ofc* u do. like the concept of southern water tribe benders "coming back" to the tribe n being so relieved there is any semblance left of the tribe, of their ppl, the culture that was actively eroded thru genocide but also maybe exploring anger bc like yeah thats their ppl, yeah they experienced so much oppression *obviously* but also as nonbenders they werent literally *locked and caged* n that can bring up complicated feelings (IF they really really wanted to go a nonbender v bender route. i dont necessarily think that shouldve ever been the route but like if the worldbuilding wanted it to be in that direction idk. it couldve explored legitamtely intersting dynamics that happen on a smaller --> larger level. but also that anger being directed to benders in the nwt for "not doijng enough" for them as their kin across the globe - an interesting positiona that was sorta touched on in s2 but like....not really. idk i just feel like..i wouldve really liked to see water tribe coming out of the war n at first feeling the relief of like 'its over' but then theres just...anger. like. a fuck ton of anger. n its obviously directed at fire nation but also the fire nation is ALLLL the way over *there* and currently the ppl who ended the war are trying Really Hard To Keep Peace and there is an Attempt at rebuilding the culture(s) but also...theres so much anger n i can see it also being redirected back at their ppl which i dont think is unrealistic..
or maybe exploring fire nation specifically. in a way to avoid/minimize accountability fire nation nonbenders couldve been like '100 year war is UR fault benders!11!! we were ~innocent~ n dragged along! to which the benders wouldve OBVIOUSLY reacted terribly too. but that is a convo i could realistically see happening in a fascist society that has been "defeated" n THAT is more interesting to me to see esp bc that would require a complete dismanteling of the monarchy but would obviously bring up other issues of 'we're losing our ~culture~' (an argument we literally see alllll the time w fascist countries) n thus a rise in conservatism in which fire nation ppl could stoke the tension in like. earth kingdom (since fire nation are still settlers in earth kingdoms) by pitting earth kingdom benders against nonbenders ('umm if our monarchy is getting taken down so is urs so whats UR culture earth ppl? umm why was the dai li (benders) basically puppeterring the king (nonbender)....r nonbenders weak....') n that sort of fascist rhetoric spreading thru the globe. even that sort of world building makes more sense to me then what they attempted in s1 where nonbenders n benders were just...hating....for no legit reason? idk.
and it could just be taken further w s4 - kuvira whos all 'earth kingdom has been suffering so we need to make sure that never happens again' which like ok...foundations are kinda there but then veers off bc her politc fails n ends up embodying fascists - which is arguably a great representation of liberalism aka what happens when u dont have principles as a politic but rather surface level understanding. like lok frustrates me bc there are lots of interesting political dynamics i feel couldve been explored just like...more. how liberalism normalizes the road back to fascism. how when the dominiant culture is fascism it can take root globally n that it takes like...a lot of work to dig to it n that requires being principles not just following somebody who seemingly represents an identity without meaning. for korra to actually go on a journey n couldve been an exploration of her radicalization being in line w her spirituality n positioning in both the physical world n also the universe. couldve been a show that really threw digs at obama. but also for that the show n the writers would need to understand what identity politics is as a politic n read the combahee river collective statement which like...ik they wouldnt do so..
yeah I mean you say a LOT here but the through line I am really getting from this is that lok needed to be grounded in genuine material analysis of the geopolitical conditions wrt how these various colonial dynamics and social discourses would have evolved in a postwar society, and instead of actually critiquing those social positions (namely liberalism) they instead perpetuate it because they are simply unserious and shallow. yeah.
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a couple scribbles i cleaned up. also i think i like drawing him in varying states of distress
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bbb-bbbbbbb · 9 months
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touched up some daisy, daisy fanart i made at least a year ago but never got to post
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amvro · 9 months
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pairing: amuro tooru x gn!reader
summary: he’s overworked and he needs some well deserved rest.
cw: none :)
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It was as if he could do anything. He could start his day at the cafe and save a few people before coming that night, and because of this, it was terribly easy to forget that he too, is human like everyone else.
He was a little too good at pushing himself when he needed to most. When he needed some rest, but a call comes in asking for some extra help on a mission. Or the cafe suddenly asking him to open up the next morning because someone's unable to make their shift. He was always able to say yes and exceed everyone's expectations no matter the job.
For this exact reason, he was often given far more work than your average person, and this is not to mention he had three different faces he was juggling. Yet, even through all this work, it looked effortless to him. He never seemed to be struggling and he was always on task, so no one would suspect he actually was tired and a little rest was necessary for this hardworking man.
However, you would never miss it. Not the small eyebags that appeared just below his eyes and definitely not the sighs that he would let out every once in a while. He needed some rest, but you knew better than anyone that he wouldn't listen if you simply told him to, he would just push himself a little more. He's a little too good at that.
You knew when his next day off was, but you also knew he was planning to get all his household chores done and caught up with that day, and you weren't going to let that happen. He needed to rest. So there you were, two days before his day off, cleaning around to surprise him. You were absolutely ready to take the whole day and the next if you had to, but it was much better than you had expected. Of course, he still had most of his daily chores covered through all his work. Needless to say, you were excited about his day off.
Before long, his day off had finally come. He woke up bright and early like he always did, went out for a little jog, and did his little routine. He had gotten back home and he was ready to take out the garbage when he realized it was already done, which he found terribly skeptical. He then went to check the laundry which was also already done, not to mention everything seemed a lot cleaner than he had left it. Immediately, his eyes widened and he knew it was you, and he was ashamed he hadn't noticed earlier.
As if on cue, you rang the doorbell and he opened it up. You looked at his running wear and you realized he had already gone and ran.
"You're already done! Aw, that's too bad... I was going to tell you to sleep in some more first," you said and gave him a little kiss as you walked in.
"Thank you so much," he said, a little lost for words and you smiled.
"Oh, don't mention it. Go take a shower, I'll borrow your kitchen by the way," you said, pushing him towards his bathroom.
"I'm sorry, you just came but I think I will," he said, looking apologetic and you told him there was nothing for him to feel sorry for.
While he was in the shower, you decided to make a few mug cakes. Very simple 5-minute ones, because his showers were too short for anything special. Now, they took much longer than the five minutes they were advertised to take, but it was still done by the time he had gotten out of the shower.
You were sitting on the couch with a blanket and the mug cakes on the coffee table when he walked out of the shower. You had been dating for a while now, but gosh was he still so stunning with his wet hair.
"Come sit and eat while it's still warm!" you said. "I'll dry your hair."
"No, it's okay, you should relax," he said and you immediately looked at him, shocked.
"If anyone needs to relax it's you," you said and forced him to sit down so you could dry his hair, which he had no choice but to give into.
It was a lovely time, there were hardly any words said as the sound of the dryer was a little too loud, but it was comforting. He was eating your very quickly put-together mug cake while you were drying his silky hair. Every other bite he would feed you some as you were busy drying his hair, and you couldn't ask for more. Nothing could make you happier and the same went for him.
Once your mug cakes were finished and his hair was dry, you snuggled into his bed and pulled him in.
"We're going to sleep," you said, already comfortable under his blanket.
"No, we really don't have to. We finally have a day off together, we should go somewhere you want to," he said.
"Well, I want to be here right now. With you," you said, completely certain that that was what you wished for. "I really want some more sleep today and I can't sleep without you so you're going to have to tag along."
He couldn't help but smile. He slowly snuck in and you snuggled up right next to him as he kissed the top of your head. It was sweet, and that was it. It didn't have to be anything more and it was all he wanted for the past few weeks. He truly didn't know how you managed to notice and he couldn't imagine himself with anyone other than you. You had to be the one.
"Thank you so much," he said, again. "For noticing."
"Noticing what?" you said with a smile, playing dumb. "I just wanted some extra sleep with you. I hope you don't mind on your first day off in a while."
"There is nothing more I could possibly ask for," he said and wrapped his arms around you. Before long, he was fast asleep and you couldn't help but smile. You knew he was tired and you didn't know how to get him to rest.
You kissed him softly and whispered, "I am always here for you," before falling asleep as well, but you would never find out that he was awake to hear those words. Nor will you ever find out that he fell even more in love with you that day.
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medicbrainrot · 10 months
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i don’t wanna be here when you lose control
An awkward silence had taken over the room Task Force 141 was occupying when Ghost and Jaguar (Simon and Artemis) had gotten into a heated argument during a briefing meeting for an upcoming mission.
Ghost gritted his teeth. “Why do you always go on these off-topic tangents?! This is important!” His icy cold stare went right through Jaguar, putting a bit of a chill in the air.
“I’m sorry, but sometimes I get off track!” She says defensively.
“That is not good enough! This is important!!” He stalks closer to her, still gritting his teeth. His eyes look as angry as ever through the mask.
“We are not continuing until you realize that what you are doing is disruptive and wasting time!” His tone is cold, and his stare is even colder.
As his anger builds, his tone becomes even more harsh, to the point where he is almost yelling at Jaguar.
“Sit. Still! This is important! Now, can we please keep focus here!?” He grits out loudly.
“I CAN’T HELP IT! I HAVE ADHD!” Jaguar shouts.
Ghost growls and steps closer, putting his face right in front of hers.
“I said SIT STILL. This is IMPORTANT.” He said furiously.
His words shut her up immediately, and Jaguar didn’t move a muscle or say a single word throughout the rest of the meeting.
When the meeting was over, Ghost turned to Jaguar one more time. 
“I trust you understand the gravity of this now.” He said coldly, before walking away without another word. He’s absolutely livid, but he needs to calm down.
The next few days, the base feels awfully quiet as the team prepares for the mission.
Ghost himself is as silent as ever, hardly speaking to anyone, and keeping mostly to himself. It seems like he’s mostly gotten over the argument with Artemis, but he’s still a little pissed off about it.
No one really knows what’s going through his mind, but they’re all keeping an eye on him in case he snaps.
Artemis, in a similar vein, has been more withdrawn than usual, and barely gives more than one or two word responses when spoken to.
Simon picked up on Artemis’ behavior, and realized that perhaps she’s feeling the same way he is: guilty.
He knows he shouldn’t have snapped at her the way he did, but he couldn’t help it.
After a brief moment of pondering, he decides to go find her and try to make it up to her. He gathers a few of her favorite snacks into a little bag, and heads to her room, hesitating before knocking on the door. “Artemis?” 
After a few more knocks, Soap pokes his head out from his own room next door. “Jaguar’s not here, LT.” He says.
Ghost sighs internally. “Where is she?” He asks gruffly, even though internally he’s feeling guilty. His body language still reads frustration, but he manages to calm himself down so he doesn’t snap at Soap.
“Last I heard, she was headed to the firing range.” He supplies helpfully.
“The firing range?” Ghost asks.
Soap nods in response.
“Okay.” Ghost nods, hanging the little bag of snacks on Jaguar’s door handle before turning to leave for the range.
As he approaches the firing range, he can hear shot after shot being fired, in an even, precise rhythm. He slips on a pair of hearing protection headphones, and enters the range to find Artemis there, firing at target after target in pure anger and frustration.
She’s got her own hearing protection on, and it seems like she’s settled into a rhythm of firing round after round into the targets, quickly changing the mag, then continuing to fire.
Ghost approaches Jaguar carefully, getting closer with each step. He finally speaks when he's close enough she’ll be able to hear him over her protective equipment.
“Artemis?” He says, trying to keep a sense of calm in his voice, despite what happened the other day. “I came to apologize.”
“It’s alright Lieutenant.” She says stiffly, without turning around.
His tones soften a bit, not having expected forgiveness so easily. “Are you sure?” He pauses and lowers his voice a bit. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that…We disagree sometimes, but you didn’t deserve that.”
“It’s fine.” she says, equally as stiff as the first response.
Ghost stands in silence for a moment, before taking a deep breath. He’s not sure what else he could say to make things right between them, but he knows he has to do something.
“Are you absolutely sure it’s alright?”
She fires the rifle again. “It’s fine.” She says again. She has yet to turn around, and her voice remains awfully stiff.
Simon begins to worry that it’s not all fine. “I don’t like you sounding so stiff.” He says, notes of concern filling his voice.
He takes a step closer to her, his tone trying to remain soft and gentle. “Artemis…”
This time, she sets the rifle down and finally turns to look at him, slipping off her hearing protection. Her eyes are red and puffy, and now that she’s not holding the rifle, he can see that her hands are shaking. “I said it’s fine Lieutenant.”
An awful sinking feeling settled in Simon’s stomach, almost like he was sick. He knew immediately that he had to do something in order to fix this. All he wants is to comfort her, but he has to know where to start. He slipped off his hearing protection before speaking.
“No, it’s not. What’s wrong Artemis?”
“If you’ve come to yell at me to sit still again, don’t worry. I’ve been working on it the past few days.” She says, gesturing to the destroyed targets downrange. 
Simon looks at the targets, concerned by the mess, horrified by the realization that he was the cause. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “Artemis, I haven’t come to yell. I’m so, so sorry for snapping at you the other day.” 
He pauses for a moment, trying to put himself in her shows. “Do you…want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know…I might go on another tangent…” She says flatly.
His tone softens some more, he can tell that she’s very bitter. “Artemis, you can tell me anything you want. What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying to show that he is being genuine, and won’t criticize her for going on another ‘tangent’. 
“What’s on my mind? What’s on my mind!?” She exclaims, as she presses her hands tightly into her eyes. “What’s on my mind is I’ve been trying to figure out for weeks how to tell my boyfriend I have ADHD, only for it to slip out in an argument and then have him use it against me. That’s what’s on my mind, Simon.”
‘Oh god.’ Simon thinks to himself. ‘That’s what’s been keeping her up at night?’ Simon hasn’t felt this awful in a long, long time. He’s horrified that he’s done this to her. “I’m sorry…”
“It’s fine.” She mumbles, her hands still pressed tightly into her eyes.
“Artemis…” He takes a few tentative steps closer, putting a hand on her shoulder and turning her to face him more.
“I didn’t mean to attack you like I did. I was wrong to do so, and I was wrong to not consider the consequences. I’m so, so sorry for my actions.”
“You’re not the first one.” She mumbles, lowering her hands from her eyes. “I’m surprised you haven’t broken up with me yet.”
“What do you mean?” He asks, his eyebrows raising under his mask. “Did I make you feel like breaking up is the only option?” He’s shocked at the possibility, a look of worry on his face. “Artemis, breaking up with you never even crossed my mind. Are you serious?”
“My last boyfriend broke up with me a few days after I told him, said I was too much to handle.” She says, a few tears escaping her eyes.
Artemis’ words cause Simon to feel another wave of guilt wash over him. He had no idea this wasn’t the first time she was treated this way, and it made him feel so much worse, knowing that he was one of the people who caused her pain. “He was wrong…” Simon starts gently. “He was wrong. You’re not ‘too much to handle’, Artemis.” He pauses. “You’re perfect just the way you are, I promise.”
“That’s not what you said when you yelled at me…” She says with a flat affect.
A look of guilt passes through Simon’s eyes, and he drops his head as he tries to come up with a response. “You’re right. I didn’t say that. I essentially said the opposite, something  cruel, that I shouldn’t have said. But, Artemis…” He pauses, his tone getting soft again. “What I said was wrong. You deserve to be treated better than that… I’m sorry.”
Artemis shrugs. “It’s my fault for fidgeting during a meeting.”
“No Artemis, it isn’t.” Simon sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “You have ADHD. It’s something you can’t control. You deserve to be treated with love and respect, and you shouldn’t have to be shamed simply because you don’t act how others might want you to.”
“I wish that conversation had gone differently.” She sniffles, as a fresh wave of tears fills her eyes.
“I do too, Artemis.” Simon steps forward and hugs her tightly, trying to comfort her. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?” He asks gently.
“I don’t know. My brain is so fucking scrambled.” She sniffles.
“Scrambled?” He asks gently. “Why? Do you feel anxious? Do you feel overwhelmed?”
“I don’t know what I feel right now. There’s too much going on in my brain.” Artemis says.
“It’s okay, It’s okay to not know, love.” Simon says softly.
“It’s not okay! I keep fucking up because I can’t get my fucking brain under control!” She yells, exasperated.
Simon flinches slightly when she yells. “What do you mean by that…?” He asks cautiously. “How have you been messing up?”
“I talk too much, I fidget too much, I annoy everyone around me because I’m too much. I have seventeen trains of thought going in my head at all times and I don’t know where any of them are fucking going!” She shouts.
It takes effort from Simon not to jump when she shouts again. He takes a deep breath before speaking, trying to calm his nerves, so that he doesn’t say something that might hurt Artemis further. “Artemis…If I might speak bluntly. It doesn’t sound like you’re the problem here. It sounds to me that your previous exes were too harsh to you…” He says gently.
“It’s not just my exes. My friends, my teachers, my parents. I feel like I’m gonna go crazy if I have to be still and quiet but there’s nothing I can fucking do about it!!” She tries to take a breath. “It’s always, sit still, stop talking, stop fidgeting, stop bouncing, stop shouting, you’re being too loud, you’re being disruptive. Everything about my existence is annoying and yet I can’t seem to SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!”
Simon’s eyes go wide at the outburst, but he manages to keep calm and keep holding Artemis tightly. “Artemis…” His tone remains gentle, and he realizes what he needs to say. His own trauma is screaming at him to not go near this, but he knows that right now that’s not the answer. He takes a deep breath and starts softly. “I think I understand what happens when you get overwhelmed.”
“What.” She says in a small voice.
He can hear the pain in her voice and it makes him feel even more horrible for speaking so harshly to her.  He rubs her shoulder gently, trying to comfort her. “Your mind feels like it’s being attacked by constant thoughts, and you feel like you might explode if you don’t do something…And you feel like talking and moving helps you, even if just for a little bit.”
“Pretty much. I didn’t get diagnosed until I was 22, but it made so much sense.” She says quietly.
“Artemis, I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through this like that. Nobody should have to feel like they’re not allowed to speak or move. You have every right to speak and move around all you want. If anyone else tells you otherwise, they’re wrong.” His voice grows even softer. “You are not too much.”
“Even when it’s you telling me to be quiet and sit still?” She asks.
“That’s on me. That’s me being inconsiderate, and it’s me being wrong. I can’t apologize enough for that. I’m sorry Artemis, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He says softly, hoping she understands.
“It’s okay.” She says sadly. “You didn’t know…”
“Artemis, I still shouldn’t have treated you like that, regardless. I’m just…I’m sorry I didn’t realize something sooner.” He says gently. “If I could go back and undo what I said, I swear I would. But I can’t. All I can do is apologize and make sure I don’t do something like that again.”
“I wanted to tell you sooner… I just….didn’t know how…I felt like there was never a right time…” She says as a tear slides down her cheek.
“It’s alright.” Simon says softly, swiping away the tear with his thumb. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m the one who reacted poorly. It’s on me to learn, not on you to do something you aren’t comfortable with.” He holds her tighter, trying to express his love with the hug.
Artemis leans into the hug, burying herself into his chest. “I’m sorry for avoiding you.” She mumbles.
“It’s alright to ask for space after an argument. It just means you want time to cool down.” He says reassuringly. “If you need more time to process, I’m alright giving you whatever you need.”
“I don’t want more time to process. I haven’t slept in two days. I just want to go to bed.” Artemis says, trying not to cry.
Simon nods, pulling slightly back from the hug. He looks down at Artemis, still feeling guilty about how he hurt her. He can now tell how tired she is, and how desperately she needs sleep. 
“Okay, I can help with that. Do you need anything before you go rest? Water, a snack, anything?”
“A snack would probably be good. I’ve been here at the range since early this morning.” She yawns. “Maybe…maybe, after I’ve slept, we can talk some more about this?”
Simon gives Artemis a warm smile. “Of course, take all the time you need, love.”
He releases her from the embrace and turns to go get her a snack while she cleans up her stuff at the range.
“Simon, wait.” She calls out.
Simon stops in his tracks, turning around to face Artemis again. “What is it, Artemis? Was there something else?” He asks softly.
She steps forward and lifts his mask to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you.” She says softly.
Simon is caught a little off guard by the kiss, but he quickly recovers. He leans into the kiss, and pulls away after a few seconds, smiling warmly at her. “I love you too, Artemis.” He pulls her into another gentle kiss, holding her close. “I love you… more than you could ever know. Never forget that.”
A/N: Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated!
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laesas · 1 year
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The hands holding yours are not clean either.
VegasPete + Hands || KinnPorsche (2022)
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moveslikekeithrichards · 10 months
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its so hard to talk about how traumatic it is to watch somebody be claimed by dementia without going "well i cant complain because at least i wasnt the one losing my mind (for now)" but that shit fucks you up so much. that ghost is going to haunt me for the rest of my life and all i can do is hope it Stays a ghost
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arsenicflame · 8 months
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me + all my mutuals when izzys getting a favourable arc in s2
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puhpandas · 2 months
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I change how I feel about Gregory and Tony's relationship ten thousand times a day
#like i dont even think theyd get together if tony was how he was in ggy#gregory wouldnt work to fix him or something hed hate him for being mean to ellis#its why all my beckory stuff i always imagine is in a specific scenario both when theyve been through stuff#and also after like years have passed and theyre 14/15#AND most importantly tony has had the chance to become a better person and make up with ellid#i think there cant be beckory without ellis#all the stuff ive made for them save for like rabbit burrow i feel doesnt match how i see them in my head#i don't even know how i feel about gregory in a romantic relationship still#idc about it when hes 12 and doesnt have 3 star fam yet but ive alqays seen it in a beckory dtance#as it being good that gregory can think about romance now because he got what he needed most already#but atill.#hes just such a family guy#but i really do like the beckory ship#its so interesting#idk ive changed my mind a lot and havent made enough stuff of them to keep up#with how i see them nowadays#i want to fix that#also i think i feel like the beckody stuff ive made feels shallow because#if its in a scenario where a lot of stuff has happened to get them to that point#and none of that stuff is shown and you dont see them chance#they just feel like randomly completely different people#idk im trying to muster up writing that multichapter ive been wanting to write#and sovereign is pretty much abandonded only because it wasnt working out at all#and ive truly taken everything good from that fic and added it to this new concpet#that made both seperate ideas better#so its a good thing#after the week im gonna try and recharge my writing battery#since the great ipad explosion of 2024 and scrambling to finish the week kinds fried my brain#i miss writing💔#and also wanna explore this new fic concpet im absolutely in love with
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lesbiradshaw · 1 year
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once again thinking about how so much of s6 liam and theo’s relationship is about theo choosing to do the dirty work so liam doesn’t have to. he went from trying to harness liam’s anger for his own gain to trying to help him get it under control— and even in triggers when he does intentionally piss liam off so they can fight to cause a distraction, he keeps liam from killing nolan right after. he tries to comfort liam (in his own Extremely Emotionally Stunted way) during the car ride home by pointing out how hard he tried to avoid hurting him. he does it again in the locker room, telling liam he’s making progress by not killing gabe— right before stepping forward and smashing gabe’s face right back into that mirror for himself to get the information they need. theo throws himself at the ghost riders as bait because he knows liam, despite his harsh promises, is too good of a person to do it himself. he pulls liam into the sheriff station bathroom and reality checks him about saving his friends and himself (also in the most Emotionally Stunted way possible) because he knows liam is sometimes blinded by his own idealism. he pushes liam ahead of him at the hospital and takes bullets meant for them both.
for someone who claims to relish in his own selfishness, theo time and time again shows that he’d rather get blood on his hands as long as it keeps liam from having to get it on himself.
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ON THE TOPIC OF BARNABY. as well as his relationship with Wally.
So. To kick this off - Riv (@funonion) and I were Speculating, and they introduced me to the johari window:
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They put Barnaby in the “facade” section, and I entirely agree. To quote them;
“So he’s Wally’s guide, right? He’s the “knowledgeable” one of the two and is always the one teaching him new things. And you know, it’s one thing if you’re just teaching him how to laugh or how to tell a joke. But.
Clown has given us two doors. One says that Barnaby understands Wally in a way the rest of the neighborhood doesn’t, and is willing to do his dirty work so to speak. The other says that their friendship was not a natural occurring thing and had to be enforced repeatedly within the show. HOW THAT’S BEING ENFORCED IS ANOTHER THING ENTIRELY but it is worth it to note.
What is Barnaby willing to keep? What is he willing to bury for his little buddy? I can’t say anything definitively yet, but the fact that I even have to ask is telling. The class clown archetype is usually used as a way to cover up for something else a character might be experiencing”
And my response, (I won’t directly quote because I have little things in the phrasing & elaboration to add / tweak );
Barnaby being a Comic Relief Character immediately raised so many alarms in my head. I love comic relief characters. They’re always so fucked up in one way or another, and Barnaby is almost certainly SO inauthentic. He’s wearing a comedy mask just as opaque as Wally’s own mask. In everything we’ve seen about him so far he’s either Teaching Wally, wisecracking/joking, or… pretty much nothing else. We got that moment of concern in audio 14-14, but that doesn’t reveal anything beyond genuine care for Wally.
Comedic characters have the best disguises. Their poker faces & ability to deflect is always top tier [and practiced], and just look at comedy-focused actors and entertainers - so many of them have severe issues, either with their mental health or life. From what i’ve observed both in that aspect & with fictional characters, they play it off & work hard to entertain/deflect [one in the same] right up until the end. Sometimes it’s a coping mechanism. Usually it’s both. If they laugh loud enough and make people think they’re lighthearted fools w/ nothing underneath, no one will look any deeper and thus they’re “safe”. 
& I’m a little suspicious that Barnaby’s red/orange/yellow spots aren’t naturally those colors. While yes, he could be (in-universe) designed that way to echo Ms. Beagle, there’s a strong possibility that that’s not it. What if he paints them to feel a connection to her, or it’s a physical manifestation of Barnaby covering up his insecurities/issues - what if it’s part of him striving to convince the world that he is what he paints himself as. 
The laidback funnyguy with a loving mom and not a problem in the world. 
And I mean, Barnaby claims to be a natural blue and I believe him! But the other colors? I’m doubtful
(I was going to include the Cast As Lil Kids Designs in this since Barnaby has all blue spots, but given how early in 2021 it was posted and how there seem to be little discrepancies from the ~official~ designs, I don’t want to provide it as evidence.)
& on the topic of Wally and Barnaby’s relationship being both real and not - disclaimer, this conversation happened before my Updated Thoughts On Them post, so there may be some minor rephrasing here from what I originally said - I’m sure that the relationship started out as inauthentic. Wally was assigned Barnaby as a best friend and technically vice versa, but I don’t doubt for a second that it became real to some extent. Clown wouldn’t treat their relationship outside of “canon” WH stuff the way that he does if they weren’t actually friends. They’ve said that Wally & Barnaby would be friends in every universe (which melts my heart <3 platonic soulmates my beloved <3), so then I have to agree with Riv. what WILL Barnaby do for Wally? I touched on this in the Milk Theory, but especially if Barnaby prides himself on “knowing Wally better than anything else”, what would Barn do to preserve that?
This relates to another conversation we had - Barnaby possibly having abandonment issues. It’s such a choice to have him of all characters be explicitly stated as an orphan. That and while every other Neighbor with a mentioned family have a somewhat large one (Howdy and his gajillion relatives, Julie and her three siblings, Poppy and her crowded tree [note: Eddie has a mentioned mother, but that info is tenuous and who knows if there are other Dears]), Barnaby has also explicitly stated that Ms. Beagle is his only family. That’s it. And farm life can’t be a sociable way to grow up, not with all the chores he must have had and how rural he might have grown up. Barnaby jokes that Home is the “Big Apple”, which could just be a joke - but jokes often come from a place of truth, and Home might be the most populated area Barnaby has lived in. Who’s to say!
Either way, Barnaby was orphaned one way or another, and I don’t doubt that it weighs on him. Especially if  his birth parents really did abandon him. That added to a possible life of loneliness… I wonder if he’s latched onto Wally emotionally, which would hit all the painful places if it turns out that my “Barnaby is more attached to Wally than Wally is to Barnaby” theory has merit. Abandonment issues could also strongly back the apparent walls he’s plastered over with circus tent fabric
Back to Barnaby & Wally: the fact that, at present, Barnaby and Wally seem to have the best disguises / strongest masks. That. looking at 14-14, i suspect that Barnaby is excellent at keeping his up, but as soon as Wally’s mask cracks, so does Barnaby’s. 
And then there’s the side of their dynamic that we could look at - it seems to be a very multifaceted relationship. The way that Barnaby genuinely cares yet in the 00 Halloween audio Wally was left off to the side and Barnaby was just “checking on him” while socializing (then again, this could be part of Barnaby understanding Wally & respecting his space / Wally wanting a break from that socialization). Barnaby is patient with Wally and yet he seems to sometimes treat Wally as his sidekick / let him fade into the background and yet Barnaby kept checking in on Wally during the 14 bug audios (this last one I could tie into the abandonment issues theory). 
Then there’s how Barnaby calls Wally kid & can tend to treat him like one despite both of them being in the same age group. The way that all of this could, in a way, relate to the infantilization of autistic people (no matter how well-meaning or unintentional) & internalized ableism. 
Note: Riv pointed out that Barnaby does seem to be doing the best with what he has, and that this can connect to the Johari Window’s blind spot / unknown. 
I do agree with this wholeheartedly! And I have to mention that - and making a Very educated guess here - the interactions we’ve seen take place in the very late 60s / very early 70s, so Barnaby’s behavior towards Wally is actually pretty fucking stellar given the time period. We can’t expect him to be perfect or do everything / say everything right. That would be boring I think! And one thing I deeply appreciate about the Neighbors & their dynamics is that they feel like real layered people, not cardboard cutouts being perfect caricatures of what people are “supposed” to be like.
Riv also presented this:
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We likely are going to reach a point where Wally asks Barnaby something that he can’t / doesn’t want to / won’t answer. And like.. Ok. This is a slight tangent but I swear it’s related! When I first discovered WH and learned the Wally basics, I wondered two things.
Are we going to watch Wally “discover” new emotions? Because he certainly has them. Clown has said that Wally only ever feels happy, and a lot of people took that to mean that Wally can’t feel anything else. I don’t think we should take that answer at face value, because. I mean. Look at the project & creator we’re talking about. Layers, guys. Indirect direct answers. I think that Clown meant that Wally only ever feels happy in the Neighborhood because he has no reason to feel any negative emotion. Everything is as it should be. Until it isn’t - and I think that’s where he’s going to have to struggle with new emotions as he encounters them through new situations/events unfolding as the “story” starts to deteriorate. We’ve actually seen this a little bit - in Wally’s record audios (i believe the chronological second to last?), the way he says “Let Me In” so insistently. That’s definitely not a positive emotion being expressed. 
How will the topic of death be handled - because it will be handled, it’s stated in the project warnings. I was wondering this even before I read the list, because I was presented with a blank slate puppet character and so went “oh fuck, this dude doesn’t know about death, does he?” Obviously I wanted to know how that would go. I want to know how it Will go! 
How would Barnaby explain emotions that Wally doesn’t know how to convey? How would Barnaby explain death in a way that Wally would understand - given that Barnaby (& all the Neighbors sans Wally) knows what death is  - and would Barnaby be willing to explain such a thing? I have a feeling we may find out.
And in a way, I suspect that if none of them know, Wally will find out himself and have to process it without help. But then again, how can something die if it was never really alive in the first place? Unless the death warning relates to human characters… I’m currently assuming it relates to both humans and puppets. 
In conclusion: Barnaby has a carefully fabricated facade, he's doing the best with what he has but it likely won't be enough, and uh. shits fucked!
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ectonurites · 4 months
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ZACH TAYLOR x MODERN BASEBALL on JOSH TEMPLETON and ALLISON BANNISTER
[ BROKEN CASH MACHINE | ROCK BOTTOM | THE OLD GOSPEL CHOIR | THE WEEKEND | ALPHA KAPPA FALL OF TROY THE MOVIE PART DEUX (2 DISC DIRECTOR'S CUT) | EVERYDAY | HOURS OUTSIDE IN THE SNOW | NOTES | I THINK YOU WERE IN MY PROFILE PICTURE ONCE | HOME | REVENGE OF THE NAMELESS RANGER | INTERSECTION ]
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good-beanswrites · 3 months
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I can't stop thinking of Kyanako's Order of Attack au... there's something so moving to me about how things getting so much worse could be what finally causes Amane to get better -- seeing Fuuta dying may be the final straw of getting her to rethink her rejection of medicine. Been a while since I've attempted something whump-y, this was fun to work with.
Tw for mentions/contemplation of death. I don't go into detail about the cult but the doctrines are implied through it all.
Fuuta was not a big fan of dying.
When he imagined his own death, he always pictured it as something dramatic and fast. Action heroes going out in a show of explosions and gunfire. Fantasy characters meeting the shining end of a blade. Even when he accepted his place in Milgram, it filled his mind with images of gallows and electric chairs. 
Whatever this slow, lengthy fever was, it was pissing him off. 
He’d lost all sense of time. He could no longer tell which hour the prison bells were marking -- morning and night blended together. Dreaming and waking blended together. His head injury and broken leg and broken bones blended together. It was all just pain at the end of the day. He had nonstop visitors that kept him awake and asked him too many questions and prodded his injuries and made his head spin. Somehow, he was simultaneously alone every time he rolled over to talk to someone. Painfully, suffocatingly alone. 
If Kotoko was going to kill him with those ridiculous emo boots of hers, she should have just done it. He was losing his mind here: devoid of all energy, suffering through broken bones and a cracked head, and boiling in an increasingly fiery fever. Maybe that was the reason he stopped commenting when he watched Amane pocket the medicine Shidou had left him. Maybe that was why he’d stopped following Shidou’s instructions himself. Even after losing an eye and taking a beating herself, Amane always looked at peace. He was tired of dealing with all of this. He wanted a bit of that peace.
Regardless of why, it was working. His fever had quickly gone from the biggest pain in his ass to the very thing that dulled his racing thoughts. 
He awoke suddenly, or maybe he’d already been awake. He couldn’t feel anything in his limbs. There was only a breathless heat around him. He raised himself into a sitting position, looking for a drink. Moving his head felt like one of those glitching computer windows that leaves a trail of copies behind it. The room swam around him. His eyes moved absently around him.
Fuuta picked up the glass that someone had left him. His fingers were clumsy, and it immediately went crashing to the ground. He hardly heard the noise as it broke apart on the concrete below. 
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He’d just go get a drink himself. Shidou told him not to get up without help. But what did he know? Thinking of the man ordering him around only drove Fuuta to step out of bed even quicker. He cried out, pain shooting through his leg. That was right, it was broken… 
Fuuta looked down, finding himself on the ground. It was so hot. Maybe this is what she felt, he thought numbly. Was it this slow for her too? Probably not. She had no regrets to fill the time like he did. The heroes got quick, beautiful deaths, and it was the villains who had to suffer the long ones. 
He lifted his right palm from where it had caught his fall. The shattered glass on the floor had cut into it. Shattered glass? What had broken? He stared blankly at the blood dripping down. 
He didn’t have the strength to raise himself up. He was burning. Why was he on the ground? Was he bleeding? He could barely breathe. What was he doing here, anyway? He just wanted to curl up and sleep. He was so weak... just to lie down... he wouldn't have the strength to get back up again. Was that such a bad thing...?
A voice caught his attention. His eyes struggled to focus on the figure who’d come running into the cell. He couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying, but he was happy when she pressed her cool little hands against his forehead. 
He allowed her to prop him up next to the bed. She held onto his hand, squeezing it tight. Why was she holding it like that? That hand was bleeding. When did that happen?
Her arms wrapped tightly around him. He wanted to shove her away -- it was too hot -- but couldn’t. In his ear, he could make out her words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, Fuuta. Don’t leave me alone. I’m so sorry...”
As she pulled back, he recognized Amane. Her uninjured eye was filled with tears. Was she upset? He thought he’d been making her happy. He wanted to keep making her happy. He’d never made anyone happy before. 
He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out. They all scrambled up in his mouth. He felt the cell swirling around him.
Amane raised her voice. She looked desperately upwards. “This can’t be --! This isn’t right!” 
Fuuta looked up at the ceiling. There was nothing there. 
“I can’t do this anymore.”
She continued talking. Fuuta was too busy studying the ceiling. She was shouting. Or maybe crying. Fuuta didn’t like that she was so upset. Huh, had there been someone there? He surveyed the empty cell. What was he doing on the ground?
He looked down at his hand. The sheet from his bed had been pulled down and wrapped hastily around it. Why? His eyes felt sticky as he blinked. Everything hurt. It was so hot. What was going on? He was so angry. He was so scared. He wanted to cry. Why was he here? Why couldn’t he just hurry up and die already?
The next time she entered, Fuuta recognized Amane instantly. Her one hand pointed to him, the other held onto someone else. The second figure hurried over to him. 
Fuuta was not a big fan of dying. Shidou reassured him he wouldn’t.
“You’re wearing the eyepatch,” Fuuta observed. 
He was playing a dangerous game, drawing attention to it like that. He was too exhausted, and his curiosity won out over his better judgment. If Amane was going to explode with one of her typical speeches, he’d just let her.
She didn’t. 
Amane’s hand drifted up to her eye. It had been hastily covered before, but now it was cleaned and wrapped in professional-grade materials. She simply said,  “Kajiyama Fuuta. How do you feel?”
“Like shit.”
“But--”
“-- But I’m better, yeah.”
Amane nodded, her shoulders releasing. 
“Oi, I haven’t seen you in a while. Not since…” He wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. Shidou had told him what happened, but it was difficult to believe. He couldn’t quite trust his own memory of the night. No matter how much clearer his mind felt since receiving proper treatment, those days of fever still muddled together. He heard that Amane had up and switched her beliefs overnight -- she was now complacent about all of Shidou's treatments -- but Fuuta knew people didn't just change like that. He wanted to hear it for himself.
She lowered her gaze in shame. “I… I thought you hated me.” Her voice was steady. “As you should. I almost killed you. I accept any ill will you may feel.”
“I -- what? You’re wrong. You… it wasn’t…” He grabbed his head, grunting in frustration.
After standing awkwardly in the entryway the whole time, Amane took a few steps inside. She made it to his bedside when he finally collected his thoughts. 
“It was your fucked up family or whatever that caused everything. They did this. And I went along and made things worse.” He looked away. His next words felt stupid to say to a little kid. He felt like the most pathetic, weak, loser. But it was too important not to say.
“They almost killed me. You saved me.”
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