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theycallme-thejackal · 2 years

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(i had to resolve this angst)

Pairing: Lenny Bruce & Midge Maisel Rated T

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

She dates.

She lets her mother set her up with men on occasion. She goes out with Gordon a couple of times.

Nothing exciting.

She's finally come to the conclusion that she is, in fact, destined to be all alone. For a brief moment, tangled up in white sheets in a blue room, she thought she wouldn't be. And then there was a bag and a lecture and an arrest and a visit, and suddenly she can't imagine a world in which she's not alone.

Because the one person she wants can't manage to get his life together.

She leaves yet another very boring suitor in favor of walking home. It’s a nice night, if a little chilly. Spring has sprung, leading to warmer days that have her forgetting to bring a coat for when the cooler nights fall.

She shivers slightly, and then a jacket is being draped over her shoulders, and the scent of cigarettes and aftershave floods her senses in a familiar, calming way. “Such a gentleman,” she drawls with less humor than the last time she said it.

Lenny shrugs, falling into step beside her in his usual white shirt, black pants. “It’s almost Pavlovian at this point. I see you, and my instinct is to offer my jacket.”

She smiles softly. Her anger has dissipated and now his presence brings her a sort of melancholy comfort. “How are you?” She asks.

“For once, not out on bail,” he responds.

She snickers quietly. “Glad to hear you’re keeping yourself out of trouble for the moment.”

“I, uh, thought I’d try to make it a more permanent change.”

She looks up at him as they continue walking. “Oh?” She asks.

He shifts, a bit of his stage persona sneaking in to his words. “You see, I, uh, I met this chick. Really dug her. And see, she pointed out some things in me that she, uh, didn’t like so much.

“And I started to realize…” He trails off for a moment, his footsteps slowing to a stop. She stops as well, turning to fully face him as he drops the comedy facade. “I didn’t like those things about myself so much either.”

Her head cocks in curiosity, and she tries not to become too hopeful in the presence of this man who’s already broken her heart once before. She fails. “Lenny…”

“You were right about a lot of things, Midge,” he tells her, hands in his pockets almost as though forcing himself not to reach for her. “But you were wrong when you said I love the drugs more than I love you. There is nothing in this world - except my kid - that I love as much as you,” he promises.

It brings tears to her eyes. “So you’re...”

“Yeah,” he breathes, shifting on his feet. “It’s only been a few months now - spent some time in an adorable little facility in Connecticut. Hung out with our old pal, Sophie Lennon. She said, ‘fuck that Mrs. Maisel,’ and I refrained from one of many colorful, and might I say very funny responses.”

Midge snorts a laugh, and Lenny smirks. She looks at him with a gentle smile. “So what does this mean?” She asks.

“Well, tomorrow I’m flying out to California for a few weeks to visit Kitty.” At her questioning look, he adds, “My daughter. But I thought maybe when I get back, I could take you to dinner. Maybe someplace they don’t have human sacrifice night.”

“I liked that place,” she counters.

“Well, I’m sure there’s somewhere in New York that will skin us alive if we ask nicely.”

She laughs again, stepping toward him and tilting her head up. “I would love that.” She stretches up to kiss him, feeling the loneliness slip from her bones, joy taking its place.

#midgelenny #midge x lenny #midgexlenny #tmmm fanfic #marvelous mrs. maisel fanfic #otp: more important than god #jackal fics #answers #resolved angst #hurt #comfort

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steddiehyperfixation · 4 months

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don't you forget about me (part six)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)

Steve allows himself a brief mental breakdown in the shower when he gets home. He lets the water mix with his tears as he curls his arms around himself and wishes with everything he is that they were Eddie’s. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give right now just to be held by him again, just to feel Eddie’s arms around him one more time. All it took was a tiny kiss on the back of his hand for Steve’s skin to remember just how much it missed that feeling. Now Steve’s entire body craves Eddie’s touch, and he shakes in its absence like an addict in withdrawal.

Then he puts himself back together, gets dressed and styles his hair and heads off to work.

They’d defeated Vecna before he could split the world into pieces or whatever his diabolical plan had been. So while Steve’s whole world may have been torn apart, while Steve’s whole world lays bruised and bandaged and amnesic in a hospital bed, the rest of the world carries on none the wiser. The rest of the world still rents VHS tapes and has movie nights and date nights and no fucking clue that they were seconds away from being dragged down into a hell dimension a couple weeks ago, so Family Video is still open for them. Fuck that.

“You’ve gotta handle the customers today because if someone starts asking me stupid questions I can’t promise I won’t snap at them,” Steve tells Robin as he drives them to their shift.

“Aw, but it’s so funny when you snap at them,” Robin quips.

“Robin.” He gives her his best I’m so fucking serious look.

Her humor dries up immediately and she nods solemnly. “Alright, yeah. I got it.”

Steve sighs, pulling into the parking lot. “Thank you.”

He busies himself with cataloging and reshelving and rewinding returns while Robin takes over the customer service part of the job. It’s mindless - mind-numbing - the monotony of the tasks exactly what Steve needs to dull out the thoughts in his brain and distract himself from the way the back of his hand still tingles from Eddie’s kiss.

When the afternoon rush dies down after a few hours and the store is all but empty, Robin sidles up next to him where he’s putting away a stack of fantasy films. “Hey.”

Her voice cuts through his focus and nearly startles Steve out of his skin. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry.” She grabs half the stack of tapes and starts helping him shelve. “Just wanted to check in with you, we haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk today. How are things going with Eddie?”

“It’s fine. He’s fine,” Steve grumbles, glaring down at the tape in his hands. It’s got a dragon on the cover. He thinks Eddie would probably like it. “He still doesn’t remember me, but he’s starting to see me as a friend now at least, so.” Steve shoves the movie into its spot on the shelf. “That’s something, right?”

Robin raises her eyebrows at the sharp bitterness in his tone and how forcefully he put the tape away. “Okay. Yeah. So I see we’re in the anger stage of grief now,” she comments.

Steve scoffs. If this is a stage of grief, he thinks he’s been going through them in the wrong order, or maybe all at once - a neverending ebb and flow of denial and anger and depression all swirled together into one fucked up cocktail of grief. “I’m not angry,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m just tired- emotionally burnt out, I don’t know. I just miss him and it’s not fair and I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.”

“Yeah, that’s anger, Steve,” Robin says, infuriatingly blunt. She slides the last tape in her stack into its place and then leans against the shelf. “Did something else happen to set this off, or are you just generally overwhelmed?”

Steve sags against the shelf beside her. “Both. I don’t know. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid. He just- he kissed my hand this morning, that’s it, and it wrecked me.”

“He what?” Robin questions, curiosity widening her eyes.

“He kissed my hand,” Steve repeats. He sighs and adds context, gives her a full recount of the events of that morning.

“Oh my god?!” Robin practically squawks as she backhands Steve’s arm, which is definitely not the comforting words or touch he needs from her right now.

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?”

“Dude. He was flirting with you,” she tells him, eyes even wider now like she’s trying to explain to him something obvious.

“What? No.” Steve shakes his head, looking at her like she’s crazy. “He definitely wasn’t.”

“Ughhh,” Robin lets out a long, dramatic groan, dragging her hands down her cheeks and pulling down her eyes. “I cannot do this with you two again. He totally was.” She drops her hands from her face so she can use them to illustrate her point as she starts to lists off, “First of all, he literally called you daddy-”

“As a joke,” Steve interrupts to protest.

“Yeah, a flirtatious one,” Robin retorts. She continues, “Then he said you have a magic touch, and then his heart literally started racing for no reason-”

“Because I was stressing him out!”

“Only after his heart rate went up in the first place, which, as I was saying, was for no reason other than the fact that you were smiling at him and holding his hand-”

“That literally doesn’t-”

“And then, he kissed your hand - pressed his lips to your skin - and told you that you were his good luck charm,” Robin finishes, looking smug like she’s said something novel and not just completely reiterated exactly what Steve had just told her only with more emphasis.

He sighs wearily. “Your point?”

“He likes you, dingus,” she says, whacking his arm again. “Don’t you get it? His mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. A lump rises in his throat, a rush of jumbled emotions chafing against his already frayed edges. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I think you should tell him what you were to each other,” Robin suggests.

“Right, yeah, okay, sure,” Steve scoffs, somewhere between sarcastic and hysterical. “And while we’re at it, I think you should tell Vickie that you like her. Because telling people things like that is so easy, isn’t it?”

Robin gives him a withering stare. “That is not the same thing at all, and you know it.”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. “Because I know Eddie, and he would not take that news well. He already gets a little weird whenever I seem to know too much about him - if I tell him I know him biblically too-”

“Ew, don’t tell him like that!”

“Doesn’t matter if I tell him like that; I say we’ve been together for 9 months, he’s going to assume we’ve-”

“God, okay, I get it!”

“See? It would freak him out,” Steve concludes, crossing his arms. “Even if he does…like me again or whatever, he definitely wouldn’t anymore and it would just generally make him uncomfortable. So I can’t tell him. I just have to keep waiting for him to remember on his own, even though it’s fucking killing me,” he says, his voice harsh as he tries to keep it from breaking. “It’s what’s best for Eddie.”

“Steve-” Robin starts, frowning like she’s only just beginning to realize she may have pushed him too far, but whatever it is she was going to say is cut off by the ringing of the bell that announces the front door being open.

“Customers.” Steve points his chin towards the couple who just walked in, a bitter jealousy boiling in his stomach as he watches them walk hand in hand towards the romance aisle. It’s not fucking fair. He shoves himself away from the shelves and mutters, “I’m taking my break.”

He stalks to the breakroom, closes the door, and sinks to the floor with his back against it. The tears in his eyes feel like they’re made of acid, like they would carve tracks into his skin if they were to spill down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around himself again. The thoughts in his head are made of acid too, bitter and burning and cursing everyone who gets to enjoy their lover's touch while he suffers without his.

Steve’s brain feels corroded, corrupted. “He likes you,” Robin’s words echo there too, “his mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.” Would Eddie touch him now if he asked? Would he trace his fingers across Steve’s skin, kiss more than just the back of his hand? Steve digs his own fingers into his sides. He feels gross, he feels rotten. It wouldn’t be right to ask that of Eddie without him knowing the truth, to take advantage of him like that. It wouldn’t be the same, anyways. The superficial touch of a boy with the beginnings of a crush is not the tender lover’s caress that Steve craves.

That is if Robin is even right about Eddie redeveloping feelings. Which she probably isn’t.

Steve’s just being stupid and selfish again. He wants to remove his brain from his skull so he can stop thinking, tear his heart from his chest so he can stop feeling; both so burned and decayed he thinks if he held them in his hands they would dissolve and crumble to dust and ash and sludge between his fingers.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve forces himself to be fine. He peels himself off the breakroom floor and returns to work, continues the tedious tasks that he hopes will numb him out again.

Robin catches his eye from across the room where she’s sorting a customer’s cash at the register. I’m sorry, her expression says, I didn’t mean to make you upset.

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head and a small smile. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, his own expression reassures her. You meant well. I’m not mad at you.

They don’t talk about Eddie again that day. The next time there’s a lull in customers and they’re able to chat again, Steve tells Robin he honestly just needs a distraction right now, and he lets her ramble on about Vickie and band and school and her impending graduation and the movie she watched last night and whatever other random thoughts are bouncing around that hyperactive head of hers. Her voice fills in the cracks in Steve’s brain, keeps it from falling apart completely. She’s always been good at that, and he’s grateful for it.

Then he drops Robin off after work and he drives away alone in silence because all the songs on the radio are love songs, and he drives back to the hospital - back to the source of his grief again and again like some sort of fucking masochist - because Eddie needs him. Because Steve loves him.

Eddie cannot help the way his face all but beams the second Steve walks back into his room that evening. “There you are, Stevie! How was work?”

Steve returns the smile, genuine, but there’s a tiredness to it. “It was alright. Bit boring, really, uneventful. How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” Eddie says, adding with a jaunty grin, “All the better now that you’re back.”

It comes out a bit more flirtatious than he intended, but thankfully Steve just laughs it off. “Alright, smoothtalker,” he scoffs through a chuckle as he takes his usual seat by the bed. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Oh, the actual doctor came in to talk to me today. Good news, don’t worry,” Eddie tells him, the last bit tacked on quickly before that concerned crease can appear between Steve’s brows. “She says I’m healing up nicely, and I might be able to be discharged soon. A few more days’ observation and then they're gonna see how well I can actually move since, you know, the bats chewed through half the muscles in one of my legs. But, yeah, I could be out of here by the end of next week.”

“That’s great, Eddie!” Steve brightens.

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles. “I can’t wait to be somewhere familiar, feel normal again. Or, well,” he amends, smile falling a little as he realizes, “as normal as I can feel given that I’ll probably be walking with a limp for the rest of my life and be covered in nasty scars all over.”

A strange expression crosses Steve’s face then, something happy and sad and sympathetic all at once, and his voice is soft as he says, “We’ll match.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What?”

“The scars,” Steve clarifies. “The bats got me too, you know. I was lucky, it wasn’t as bad for me as it was for you, but, uh- yeah, we’ll match. See?” He stands and pulls his shirt up a bit.

Eddie’s heart rate immediately kicks up again, blood growing warm, as his eyes snap to Steve’s stomach, to skin and muscle and body hair and- oh. Two giant, jagged red scabs cover Steve’s sides, the edges fading into skin bumpy and pink and white with the beginnings of scarring. The bite on Eddie’s own side twinges in sympathy. “That’s-” He swallows back the word hot, and breathes out instead, “Holy shit.” Without really thinking, he finds himself reaching out to skim his fingers over the ridges of Steve’s scars.

Steve gasps - full body shudders - at the touch, and Eddie instantly pulls his hand back, afraid he’s hurt him. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, it’s fine,” Steve manages, though it sounds a bit shaky. “You didn’t hurt me, I just- I wasn’t expecting it.”

Eddie tentatively starts to reach back out; Steve nods. He slowly traces the outline of the wound again, every uneven edge, feeling the evidence of hurt and the evidence of healing and the ripple of each breath Steve takes - breaths that echo in the quiet that falls between them. Eddie doesn’t realize just how intimate this silence has become as he runs his hands across Steve’s skin, until he glances up to find Steve just…watching him. It’s impossible to tell exactly what emotion is behind his eyes, but it’s intense and it’s devastating, and Eddie suddenly feels like he can’t breathe.

“Uh-” A nervous laugh stutters out of him. He rescinds his touch. “Twin scars, huh?” he remarks, cracking a crooked smile and attempting to change this strange, suffocating energy with a joke. “Hell of a matching tattoo. Next time let’s just exchange friendship bracelets like normal people do, yeah?”

Steve huffs, a short burst of laughter that escapes from his chest like it’s been punched out of him. “Since when have you ever done anything like a normal person?” he teases in return as he pulls his shirt back down.

Just like that, blown away by Steve’s playful smile, the weird tension lifts. Eddie grins back. “Alright, fair point.” He adds, “Those are gonna be some pretty metal scars, Stevie.”

“Not as metal as yours,” Steve says warmly, settling back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “You’re the one that literally survived death, Ed. It doesn’t get any more metal than that.”

“Now who’s the smoothtalker?” Eddie smirks, and he hopes he isn’t blushing. Steve Harrington calling him metal with so much pride and affection in his voice is doing numbers on his heart. Curse this stupid fucking crush.

Steve eyes divert briefly to the heart monitor, which has not once calmed down since the second he’d lifted up his shirt, and Eddie is so sure that he knows then, that he’s finally made the connection between what’s got Eddie’s heart racing, but he doesn’t say anything, just laughs it off again, smiling like everything’s completely normal as he looks back at Eddie and rolls his eyes and mutters in return, “Shut up.”

“Make me,” Eddie mumbles, not quick enough to bite back the words before they fall from his mouth, only managing to lower his voice enough that maybe Steve didn’t hear him.

“What?”

“TV?” Eddie grabs the remote, pretends like that’s what he’d said in the first place. Real smooth.

“Oh, sure.” Steve shrugs. If he noticed Eddie’s slip, he gives no indication of it.

Eddie turns on the TV and they spend the next hour or so laughing and making fun of the bad acting on the show that’s playing. Easy, normal, platonic. Eddie’s heart rate stabilizes, remaining even so long as he doesn’t look too long at Steve’s smile.

When sleep starts lapping at Eddie’s consciousness, he doesn’t fear it anymore. Silently, he holds out his hand, and Steve takes it, wrapping him in the warmth and protection that allows Eddie to let himself drift off undaunted.

And in his dreams his hands skate across Steve’s skin again.

(part seven)

taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

#giving steve mental breakdowns is my favorite hobby actually can you tell #one or two more parts i think i can't decide #should i resolve it in the next part or drag it out an extra chapter and write out some more of eddie's dream memories???#steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic

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mediumgayitalian · 2 days

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The crooked, creaky door of the cluttered infirmary storage room pushes open and slams shut in the span of a second, just barely allowing someone to dart through. Nico jumps, banging his head on the shelf he’s hiding under, chomping full force on his lip to bite back a shout. The shadows, on lucky reflex, bend around him and shroud his face. The rest of him he tucks further into the forgotten corner between two filing cabinets, holding his breath.

Under the unflattering light of the single swinging lightbulb, Will looks dull.

A thin headband attempts to hold back his frizzy hair, although it does very little. Curls stick out oddly and many shorter hairs are plastered to his temples and the back of his neck. His skin is unusually lacklustre, even pale, except for the high flush around his cheekbones. The bruising under his eyes rivals Nico’s. He has been wearing the same scrubs for the last two days.

With one last look at the closed door, nothing but garbled voices filtering through the heavy wood, he slumps. He drops his face into his chapped and bleeding hands, heels pressed into his eyes, and holds them there for ten seconds, twenty. Slowly, with trembles so minute they are at first glance unnoticeable, his shoulders begin to shake. The long fingers flexed and tensed around his forehead curl tightly, and he twitches, whole body trembling, teeth sunk hard into his bottom lip to stop his chin from quivering.

It does not work.

The first sob is quiet. He catches it quickly, forcing it back down, breathing heavily through his nose and out his mouth to beat it back. The second follows quickly, though, and it’s harder to choke down. When his face crumples, his resolve goes with it, and his knees hit the floor, sharp crack swallowed by the stillness of the room. He curls forward until his nose nearly hits his knees, hands sliding through his hair and over his ears and settling finally clutching together in the dip of his chest, bouncing with every heave of his chest. It’s quiet, his crying, enough that every dropped tear can be heard as it hits the dusty floor. The only time his sobs are ever audible is when he opens his mouth, trying desperately to soak up enough air to catch himself, to carry himself through.

Mute horror holds Nico’s tongue hostage.

He’d escaped in here the second Will had been called away this morning, dragged for the umpteenth time to handle a crashing patient or a complicated hymn or to soothe someone’s nerves. For the past two days he’s been doing his best to monitor Nico and a handful of other front liners who’d exhausted themselves in battle, but his focus has been split and the infirmary has been crowded. Whenever he runs off to put out whatever fire had cropped up — sometimes literally — the whispers start, the glances, the skin crawling up Nico’s back. Nico can hardly tell anymore what’s the shadows and what’s the people around him, watching him out of the corners of their eyes like they’re waiting for him to bust out a scythe and a black hooded cloak and start reaping.

The storage room is supposed to be an escape. Out of the way and forgotten as it is, it is supposed to be the place he can hide for an hour, escape the heavy gaze of the rest of the camp, collect himself before braving it all again.

Clearly, though, he’s not the only one who thinks so.

There’s something disorienting about seeing Will Solace cry. In the few times Nico has spoken with him during his visits to camp, he’s been a barely-contained explosion of energy, whether talking Nico’s ear off with updates about people he barely knows and references he hardly understands or cussing him out for overextending himself. He’s used — as much as he can be to someone he’s only beginning to really get to know — to his wildly flailing hands and widely playful grin, his loud drawling voice, his painful, constant brightness.

His hands, now, clench until they’re bloodless, trembling. There is no hint of his wide smile or twinkling eyes, because his face is hidden by all the hair that his given up on the pretence of the hairband, and the only sound from him are his gasping breaths and swallowed-back sobs. Nico watches him because he cannot look away. He flinches because every cry, every rough, scraping inhale, sounds like shattering rock, like an iceberg breaking off a glacier.

A quiet beeping startles them both.

For a stretch of time Will is motionless. The beeping continues, steady and soft, bouncing off the cluttered shelves and fading before they echo. After the third round — and Nico counts, if anything for something to do besides watch the chafed skin on Will’s hands crack and bleed with every flex — he drags himself upright, nails drawing lines in the thick dust of the floorboards, and rests back on his heels. He breathes for a moment, shuddering, hands pressed flat to his face; in, beep, beep, beep; out, beep, beep, beep. None of his breaths are ever steady, but he wastes no more time, swiping under his eyes and pinching his cheeks to restore his face to some of its usual colour. He grips onto each board of the shelf to his right as he yanks himself upwards, hand over hand, until he’s stretched, finally, to stand, although there remains a slouch to his broad shoulders.

The beeping continues, emanating from the watch on his left hand, growing softer or louder as he trails his fingers over the shelves from one end to the other, from the first, the second, the third. He pauses finally on a collection of bottles, turning them carefully to read the labels, then tucks them each gently into his already bulging pockets until he is left with what he must carry between his fingers.

The shadows bend to cover Nico again as Will turns, unknowingly facing him, and pulls himself suddenly straight-backed, chin set high, shoulders squared. He smiles, wide, fractured, squinting his eyes deliberately. The beeping stops. He breathes, in, smile, out, nod, and turns, striding, back to the door, opening it with flourish and swiping the dust off his clothes.

“Found them! Sorry it took so long, I really had to look —”

The door swings shut behind him, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

Nico stares at it with bile churning in his too-empty stomach.

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isjasz · 10 months

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The brainrot continues (Blame @vesperionnox and @cherrysherin we are dragging the whole server down with this au)

Part 1

#desert duo #LoSBotwAU #grian #goodtimeswithscar #pearlescentmoon #solidaritygaming #desert duo au #totk spoilers #if you squint #my art #isdoodles #i thought i got over this -> gets dragged back into this au immediately upon one mention #i really should have a tag for this au but i have no idea LMAO IT HAS PPL FROM HC EMPIRES AND LIFE SERIES HOW ARE U SUPPOSED TO NAME IT #the struggle has been resolved: jimmy is now a rito because canary dying first is just too good #scheduled so i dont procrastinate on posting this again #tumblr only bc bless tumblr for accepting more than 4 images <3 i have no idea how to post these on twt so nope LOL #(edit: nvm i caved im still gonna post some)#goddamn i need to get in the habit of posting more or THEY ALL PILE UP #OFOJASIOEJEKALJKSJ IM SO NORMAL OVER THIS AUUUUU #tho it has been slowing turning from desertduo angst into we must draw everyone in this au and put grian in links every outfit #still id call that a win #and btw feel free to send me any ask about this au ill be happy to answer HASJAHHAS #insanity in a nutshell: whatever this is #yeah idk what the dark link one means either idk enough about his lore to make sense of it HELPDDP #THE CRISIS HAS BEEN RESOLVED IT HAS A TAG NOW CHECK IT OUT HEHEHEHRH #yep its just the legend of scar we are geniuses LMAOAOAO

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arminsumi · 3 months

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i wrote a future chapter idea for i want to kiss you and it accidentally got angsty but in a kinda sweet way??

satoru and suguru missing you after you return home :(

#u know how long distance can be #i will try not include much angst in this fic lol #and it will be resolved 👍

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cbsjaneeyre · 6 months

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love shouldn't hurt like this.

#this is for all of you izzy and angst lovers out there #i just hurt myself with this #PLS LET IZZY AND ED RESOLVE IT ALL IN THE NEXT NEW EPISODES #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #izzy hands #edward teach #ofmdedit #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 #ofmdgifs #rita #cbsjaneeyre

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sunflowerseedsandscience · 10 days

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Various Storms and Saints- Prologue

"You still haven't told me if he's cute or not."

Scully sighed and pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead, cradling the phone in the crook of her neck. Nobody could make her regret bringing up a subject as quickly as her sister when she put her mind to it. "No, Missy, I haven't," she allowed. "Because it's irrelevant. Mulder's good looks aren't the reason I miss working with him."

"So you admit it? He is cute?"

"Missy. Can we please have a serious conversation, for once?"

"Fine, fine," Melissa acquiesced, though her tone made it clear this point would be revisited in the future. "Tell me why you miss working with him, then."

"Well... part of it is the cases we tackled together," Scully said. "The autopsies I'm stuck doing now that the X-Files are shut down seem so boring in comparison to murderous clones and mind-controlling worms in the Arctic."

Melissa whistled. "Yeah, I can see how that might be a little bit of a come down. What's the other part?"

"What other part?"

"You said the cases are part of the reason. So what's the other part?"

Scully closed her eyes. How to define this most indefinable of relationships, especially to Melissa, who so often seemed to think every person in her life fit into a neat box? "I miss the way he spoke to me," she said finally. "He never talked down to me, not even when he was standing so close I practically had to break my neck to meet his eyes. He made me feel like the things I have to say are important... that they carried real weight with him, even when he didn't agree with me." She chuckled ruefully. "Which was most of the time. He's always shown me a respect that I don't get that often, being surrounded by men in positions of authority who all love to hear themselves talk."

"That does sound like it would be tough to leave behind," agreed Melissa. "Couldn't you... I dunno, lobby to be his partner on whatever assignment he's on now, though? Then at least you'd still be working together even if it wasn't in the X-Files."

"He's working with someone else," said Scully darkly. "At least he was on his most recent case. I don't know if they're officially partners or not."

"And you don't like whoever it is," said Melissa knowingly. "I can hear it in your voice." "I don't really know anything about him," Scully admitted. "But... there's something strange about him, you know? He just makes me nervous." There had been something about Alex Krycek's fresh-faced innocence that had seemed less than genuine, even if Scully couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Bad vibes, huh?"

"Maybe." Scully sighed. "For all I know, it's just my jealousy getting in the way because I want to be the one out there with Mulder."

"See, I knew you liked him," crowed Melissa, and Scully groaned, exasperated.

"Melissa. It's not like that."

"Fine, fine, whatever you say," Melissa huffed. "Hang on a sec, okay?" The phone was muffled, as though Melissa had put her hand over the receiver. Someone's voice asked a garbled question, Melissa gave an equally garbled response, and a moment later, she was back. "Hey Danes, I gotta go, okay?"

"Wait, Melissa, what's your--"

"There's a meditation session I'm supposed to lead and they're waiting for me. I'll call you soon, okay?"

"But Melissa, where are--" There was a click, and the line went dead.

Scully dropped her bedroom extension back into its cradle on the nightstand and sank back onto her bed with a sigh, snuggling into the cardigan she'd pulled on over her work clothes when she'd walked into her apartment. She'd come home from work for lunch, having finished her morning teaching session a little early, and had been available purely by chance when Melissa called for the first time in two months. Phone conversations with her older sister, while always welcome, tended to be exhausting these days. She hadn't seen Melissa in years, not since the day after her graduation from medical school. Melissa hadn't made it to the event itself, but she'd shown up at the party her parents had thrown her afterwards. Melissa hadn't understood her sister's disappointment, and Maggie Scully, as she so often did, had defended her elder daughter to her younger.

"You know big ceremonies aren't really your sister's thing, Dana," she'd said, patting Scully's shoulder consolingly. "She barely sat through her own high school graduation. Just be thankful she's here for the celebration, all right?"

Sitting through a graduation ceremony was boring, to be sure, but that hadn't stopped Scully from doing it for all three of her siblings when they'd finished high school, plus for Bill and Charlie when they'd finished college. In her opinion, it had nothing to do with how exciting or boring the ceremony itself was, and everything to do with showing up for the people she loved when their hard work and accomplishments were recognized.

Showing up. That was something Melissa had traditionally had difficulty with, when it came down to it.

They hadn't even had a working phone number for Melissa last Christmas when Ahab had passed. Scully, tasked with handling everything while her mother waded through her initial shock and grief, had called every friend of Melissa's she could think of, trying to locate her sister, and had failed. She'd been reduced to sending a letter to Melissa's last known address in hopes it might get correctly forwarded. But it never got to her, as was evidenced three months later when Melissa had called home, chatted with Maggie cheerfully about her recent travels, and then had asked to speak to her father and had been completely lost when her mother had burst into tears.

"Free-spirited" had always been how the family had described Melissa. But deep down, in her darkest and most shameful thoughts, the word Scully sometimes landed on was "selfish."

Scully's cell phone rang, startling her out of her reverie. She half-expected it to be Mulder, begging her to do another autopsy he couldn't trust with anyone else, but it was Roy Seekamp, a fellow FBI pathologist whose office in the Hoover building was next to Scully's.

"Where are you?" asked Roy. "One of the AD's came looking for you but your office is locked. Skinner, I think his name was?"

"I came home for lunch. What's going on?"

"Something big is going down in Virginia," said Roy. "Some hostage situation with an escaped mental patient."

Scully frowned, confused. "Why would they need me for that?" she asked.

"I don't think they actually need you or anything," said Roy. "The AD was just looking for you to let you know your old partner is there on the scene."

Scully's heart skipped a beat. "Mulder is there?" She got off the bed and raced out of her bedroom, tearing off the cardigan and snatching up her bag. "What's he doing there? He's not a hostage negotiator!"

"No idea," said Roy. "I think AD Skinner just wanted you to hear it from him. You coming back to the office?"

"Yes," Scully said, pulling on her shoes. "Be there soon." She ended the call and stuffed her phone into her bag, then looked down and realized she was still clutching her cardigan. She folded it in half and draped it over the back of her couch on her way out the door.

It stayed there, untouched, for over a month.

#my fic #x-files fanfic #Various Storms and Saints #Some of y'all are gonna HATE this #angst alert #Mulder/other resolving into MSR #JUST TRUST ME I WOULD NEVER STEER YOU WRONG

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ghost-bxrd · 3 months

Note

Oh my god the whole Jason and Tim misunderstanding/not actually dating storyline is incredible and I crack up every time you reblog it with a new addition, I actually start cackling

The Jason misunderstanding fics are just so good, also including ‘batfam thinking Jason is his own (ex) boyfriend’ which brings me joy every time I reread what you’re longing for (between all the great angst) lmao

Ksksksk I’m happy you like the little brainstorming session ✨ ngl it’s probably gonna be 4/5 parts comedy and one part angst but all the wonderful additions by everyone are already making this sooo good, I never could have come up with all this hilarity by myself 😂💚💚

#I said it before and I’ll say it again: I live misunderstandings in fanfic #because they tend to be so funny #all the angst that could have been resolved by just TALKING #and all the feral behavior over something that never happened #is just too good ksksks #ghost talks #jason todd #batfamily #dick grayson #batfam #bruce wayne #robin #tim drake #red hood #fic

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leavemeslowly · 24 days

Text

III. queen of peace

Pairing: Susie Glass x Edward Horniman

TV show: The Gentlemen (2024)

word count: 1472

warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, not-super-graphic smut, love/hate? relationship

„The queen of peace

Always does her best to please

Is it any use?

Somebody’s gotta lose"

Susie and Eddie become partners, tell each other some dark truths and well… Susie listens to him against her better judgement.

Susie and Eddie stumbled into his office, laughing about something that Freddie shouted after them when they left the party happening in the living room.

Eddie closed the doors behind them and moved to the front of his desk where he hid a certain document. He handed Susie a blue fountain pen and asked her to sign. Naturally, not with her real signature because that could prove their professional relationship to the authorities. She signed with a doodle of a gun. He then drew a middle finger next to it. Their deal was done. They were in business, together.

„So, now we are equals?”, Eddie asked after he put the document inside of a safe hidden behind one of many paintings purchased by his father. Susie smiled enigmatically.

„Ta, I suppose we are. I will miss giving you orders."

"I am sure you will continue giving them anyway.” Eddie moved to a mini bar and poured them drinks. She smiled at him, thinking that he was probably right. Susie also knew that he will be more than happy to take them.

“Any plans what you want to do first?” She asked when he gave her a full glass.

“No”, She lifted her eyebrows. “I mean I do, but not today. Anyone ever told you, you are a workaholic?”

That is why she appreciated his companionship. He wasn’t afraid to challenge her and say it as it was.

“No.” Her expression changed to a more serious one. "Everyone else is too scared to tell me the truth."

“I am not afraid of you.” He searched for her eyes and his voice softened as if there was another dimension to his words. „I know what you are capable of when I pushed you. I have learnt my lesson.”

Susie sat in an armchair behind his desk and looked very pleased with herself taking his place.

„When I told Gospel the truth about his brother what led to his visit on your estate, I did it because you lied to me. I was angry at you, Eddie. It was personal. Don’t betray me again.”

Eddie nodded and moved closer to her. He leaned on his desk when looking down on her and not knowing how to respond to her confession. Admittedly, he was surprised by it. She sounded hurt rather than angry but he didn’t pointed that out aloud.

„I told Johnston, back when I still considered his support that I do not want any of your family members hurt. Of course, you too, Susie.” He paused to catch her eye and ensure she understands. „I don’t want to fight.” She looked up and met his eyes with openness he wasn’t prepared for.

„Is there anything you want then?”

„You know I want a lot of things.” He answered vaguely but not without understanding the hints she was dropping. „And it is all your fault.”

„Oh, really? I don’t think it is, Edward. I think you have always wanted it all. Military, this whole protector of your family act were meant to conceal your ambition. You don’t have to hide from me. We have already showed each other our darkest colours.”

Eddie was blindsided by her words that caused all of his pretences to tumble and crush into pieces. She stripped him of his defences with few punctuated words. Susie knew it and couldn’t contain her smirk of satisfaction.

“Always so smug, aren’t you?” Eddie countered gracelessly. She rolled her eyes and raised from her seat. Her words were the first loud declaration of his deepest and most sinister thoughts. “You don’t what to hear what I have to say?”

“No, not particularly.”

Eddie knew better so raised to his height and looked down on her. Her perfume lingered around him and the truth was he was under her spell not other way around. Nevertheless, he will try to even out the odds.

“You have it all, right? You are immaculate in protecting your empire but not for yourself, not really. For your brother, your father. You have a fucked up notion of obligation from which you can’t free yourself. You should want something just for you, Susie. Something substantial because I know you are not easily satisfied. Is there anything you would want? Anything I can give you, perhaps?”

Susie’s expression changed but she still was almost rigid. She had her head slightly tilted so she could gaze on his face. Finally, she slowly leaned in. Her hand landed on his lapel.

“You have no idea what you are asking for.”

He inched closer to her face and slowly, testing the waters, placed his hand on her cheek. Susie shivered at his touch, probably because of a coldness of his signet. Her eyelashes fluttered when she felt his breath on her lips. Eddie wanted to ruin her perfectly painted red lipstick which tempted him so many times before. He knew it will happen but the wait was crushing.

“Come on, Susie, tell me. What is that you want?” He caressed her cheek trying to encourage her to relax. “Should I give you an idea?”

He noticed the way her throat bobbed trying to mute any unwanted sounds. It was satisfying, going exactly in the direction he imagined.

“You should just kiss me, Edward, and stop teasing. For your own good.” Susie regained her old self and an ounce of self-composure.

Her words were like a sound of a gun being fired. Eddie crushed his lips to her. She immediately responded with need he didn’t anticipate. Still, her taste, her small noises were like magic. Until this moment, he didn’t realise how much he missed closeness and simplicity of a touch. This need was pathetic. He called out Susie on her weaknesses but he wasn’t better when he turned them around and pinned her to his desk and manoeuvred her to sit on it.

„You do justice to your family name, Eddie” Susie mumbled between their kisses. If he could, he would roll his eyes but just laughed, too busy kissing down her throat. Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging it and he could not contain his moan. „So you like it like that? Not so tough anymore."

„You are talking too much, Susan.” Eddie raised his gaze to her stormy eyes. She slowly smiled but could not conceal desire looming there.

Her fingers slowly circled his tie and pulled it forcing him to kiss her again, but slower, according to her own want. She took it off and untucked first buttons of his shirt. Eddie's hands roamed over her back, then down her things and back up under he vest. Suddenly, she almost sobbed into his mouth. He discovered she wasn’t wearing anything under it so his cold fingers came into contact with her bare skin.

Her jacket dropped to the floor next. Before she could react, Eddie was moving her to stand in front of him and brace her palms on the desk. He wanted to evaporate her thoughts, end her worries and let her finally relax. He pressed himself to her back and she moaned feeling him tall and unyielding.

It was right how she fitted between his arms, almost a head lower and staring up into his eyes. Her own were glazed with pure want that if necessary would send Eddie to another war. He touched her jaw to draw her to him and kiss her thoroughly while his other hand embraced hers. Their fingers intertwined and she gasped when his hand slid down her throat to slowly embrace her breast and pleasure her with his touch. He observed her opened mouth and small cries she let out.

„Eddie, it is too much.”

„So do you know now what you want?” He was teasing but he needed her to voice her desires. Perhaps, it was not strictly necessary knowing his own desperate craving but he wanted her to have it burned in her memory. That it was her own decision to fuck him and let him close enough to see her vulnerability. He did not want regrets and another cause for war.

„Eddie...” She didn’t want to admit it aloud. Still, she tried to express it when he forced her to look at him and saw her eyelids half closed and felt her slow grinding against him.

„Say it, Susie, God, please say it.” He was slowly losing a fight he began when she on the other hand was regaining control. It was her turn to foreshadow all the things she could do to him. Against his better judgement, he clutched her thigh and finally pushed into her ass. Not expecting that, she abruptly tilted her head back onto his arm and thrusted back with more fierceness.

„Yes, Eddie, yes, do your worst."

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lilyrizzy · 11 months

Text

sorry to post so much everyone, promise i will resume to writing fic only like, once every three months after this lol

“That is a very nice watch, Max.”

It’s Victoria who is the first to notice it, the two of them sat out on his and Daniel’s balcony, the August evening warm. Between them are two empty bottles of wine and a quarter full bottle of gin. Inside, her babies are sleeping on the pull out beds, and Daniel has taken Tom into their ‘hobby room’, where Max’s sim lives also, to show him the newest addition to his camera collection. Apparently the one Tom had been using to document their children as they grow died a smoky death last week, losing all the photos of baby Lio in the process.

“Daniel got it for me,” is all he says, glancing down at his wrist.

It’s Tag Heuer of course, because Max has to wear those kind with the sponsorship rules, but this one is much nicer than the big flashy ones he usually gets for free. More you, Maxy, Daniel had explained nervously when Max opened the box to see it for the first time. A classic, smooth black leather strap instead of the usual shiny silver metal, the face a little smaller, round. In the middle, where the two hands of the clock meet, a tiny little diamond that you can only see if you look close enough, like a secret. The real secret is, of course, the inscription on the back, the engraved cursive words, for my world champion.

It’s so lovely. Max hates it a little bit.

Victoria lets out a laugh that bounces loudly through the too-still night air.

“Oh no,” she says, voice teasing. “You do not like it?” When he looks up from where he’s been staring at it, her eyebrows are raised.

Max has had maybe a little too much to drink, if he’s letting his complicated feeling about the watch show on his face, but it is the summer break of course, so it’s okay, and this is his sister. Maybe he can tell her what he is sometimes too afraid to think about on his own.

“I like it,” he insists, “but-“

“Max it is okay,” she says with another laugh, her cheeks bright pink from the wine she has drunk. She says it like she is trying to help him by telling him how he feels. “Sometimes they do not always get these things right, yes? The nice thing is that they try.”

But that isn’t it. This isn’t like the time Tom brought Victoria a pair of shoes for her birthday and she had telephoned Max to ask unhappily, “do I look like the type of person who would wear Michael Kors,” like Max was supposed to know who that was. Daniel is good at presents. He is very good at making Max happy.

“I do like it,” he tries again, a little defensive now on Daniel’s behalf. His words slur together a little, and without realising it, he’s switched back to Dutch. “It is lovely, I- It even has something written just for me on the other side, so of course it is special, I just- I thought-“

He thinks back to that night, two weeks ago now, the first of summer break that they got to be alone together. The first of their break, five nights to spend in some outrageously flashy Ibiza villa that Daniel booked, 120 hours stretching out in front of them, almost too sweet like toffee.

By the pool, laughing together, as they twirled pasta around their forks. Daniel had made it for Max, one of his ‘sabbatical projects’, to get better at cooking. That way you can hire me as your chef Maxy, if I don’t get a seat, yeah? It was so nice because the rich tomato sauce almost tasted the same as Max’s favourite kind of soup, and when Max had told Daniel that his face had gone all soft the way Max loved to see it, like he’d said all the right words in the right order.

“I’ve got something for you actually,” Daniel had said then, and he’d leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Max’s mouth before getting from his chair to go and get his present.

When he’d come back with a black box and a shy, nervous smile on his face, Max’s heart had fluttered like there was a bird inside his chest, beating it’s wings against his ribcage. Daniel wanted to-

But then it had been a watch.

Looking at Victoria now, he can feel the wonky line his attempt of a smile makes of his mouth.

“For a moment, when he gave it to me,” he explains, thumbing over the smooth glass of the watch face, “I thought it was- I thought, maybe, a different kind of jewelry.”

It takes a few seconds for realisation to spread across his sisters features, but when it does it doesn’t make him feel any better the way he’d hoped it would to share this.

“Oh Max,” she says, reaching for his hand across the table, and he wants to recoil at her pity, “I did not- I did not even know that was something you wanted.”

Which to Max, seems like a silly thing to say, because of course it’s what he wants. He and Daniel have been together for so many years now, why would he not? It’s what you do when you love each other and want to be together always. He’d thought, maybe, now Daniel was happy again and not racing, but-

“Maybe it is not what Daniel wants,” he says with a shrug, but just saying the words out loud make his eyes sting and his throat ache. He is probably just too drunk for this conversation.

Victoria hums, like she is thinking. Over the balcony, Max can see the shimmer of the moon bouncing off the sea. His face feels so hot suddenly, like he is melting, and he imagines diving into the cool water.

“Have you two ever spoken about this?” Victoria asks, and Max just shakes his head, not looking at her. “Then how can- How can you know he does not want to? Why- You could always ask him too, you know.”

She’s right, of course. It’s just- Max doesn’t know how to explain it. That he wants it to be simple, for Daniel to want Max so much that he can’t stand to not ask him. That Max is afraid if he is the one to ask, Daniel will say yes just because he wants to give Max what he wants, and not because he wants Max.

Behind him, he hears laughter, the sound of footsteps, and Victoria’s face looks up, worried, to the sliding glass door behind him. It opens. Max wipes his eyes quickly, feeling even more foolish than before as Daniel runs a hand through his hair, presses his cheek into the top of his head, just as drunk as the rest of them and asks, “what are you two gossiping about then?”

#i scrolled for so long in my ask box seeing if there was an ask prompt this could answer but #i wrote this silliness all by myself lol #anyway there is a sequal! in my brain! where they acc are adults and talk about this and everything gets resolved if anyone is interested #but for now there is only angst lol im sorryyyyyyy #fic #max/daniel

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rqgnarok · 10 months

Note

the audience needs a part two for the jamie + fan kissing scene PLEASEEEE

your wish is my command, anon (part 1)

Jamie hasn't slept a wink when you finally come home.

It's a quiet thing, your homecoming. To the house you two share and couldn't run away to after you caught Jamie in someone else's arms. He'd called you desperately time after time and all tries went unanswered, followed up by texts begging to please just let me know you're okay. You'd read them all and only answered once before Keeley- who you'd chosen for a safe haven after running away from the club- took your phone away from you.

She'd also refused to speak neither ill nor good things of Jamie. She offered you a hot drink and spare clothes to change into, a comfy guest room, and a shoulder to cry on. The morning after you also had texts from Sam, Dani, and some of the other boys who'd witnessed the exchange between Jamie and said fan, all confirming the version your boyfriend had tried to tell you the night before.

God, you were so embarrassed. That this had happened, that some of your closest friends had been there to watch, that you couldn't believe him when he said he'd never do something like that to you even when you knew how deeply and loyally Jamie loved.

But the image of him kissing someone else was tattooed behind your eyelids. As a consequence, your night was also mostly sleepless, and when you finally come face to face with Jamie you both look like tired messes.

His hair is greasy and unkempt. He'd been pacing the living room and lying on the couch trying to sleep when you came home, so his clothes- the same from last night- are wrinkled and a little smelly. You in return are wearing someone else's clothes, eyes swollen from crying and body aching with the tension this whole thing has brought upon you.

You're both a sight for each other's sore eyes.

"Hi," you say quietly, dropping your bag and your keys on the counter.

"Hey," he answers breathlessly like he can't believe you're here. One blink and you might disappear into thin air like you never even existed. "You- Keeley called. Said you were on your way home... on your way here."

You close your eyes painfully at the correction.

"Still home," you reply, hesitant to get nearer. "The guys called. Told me everything. I-"

"I'm sorry," Jamie goes to hold you again but seems to hesitate when remembering how you'd tried to twist out of his grip the previous night. You close the remaining distance, wrapping your hands around his shirt and clinging for dear life. "I'm so sorry, I swear I would never- I hate that you had to see that, I'm so, so sorry-"

"Baby," you say, and Jamie melts like snow under the summer sun. You can't not touch him, cupping his face, touching his skin. Something inside your chest tightens when he nuzzles your palm with so much force his neck must ache a little. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through that, I'm sorry I didn't listen-"

"Why would you?" he says self-deprecatingly, turning to burrow his face into your wrist, the crook of your elbow, and into your neck, hugging you tight. "You- I would've done the same thing, right? If I saw you... if I..."

"I wouldn't," she cups the back of his neck, possessive. Comforting. "And neither would you. I know that now, I'm sorry."

The only person who should be sorry is the fan that thought had some ownership over a footballer they'd never met, that put Jamie in such position no one deserved to be in.

"Missed you," he's crying, you realize when his voice cracks and something wet hits your neck. "All I could think was that I'd never see you again, and I... fuck."

"We're okay," you soothe, running your hands through his hair. He smells of sweat and faint traces of cologne. The scent alone and the thought of never being this close to him again makes your eyes water, too. "We're okay, baby, we're gonna be okay."

You will be, you're sure. After at least 9 hours of sleep in the same bed and keeping each other in the same room at all times, eventually the sting of this entire night will fade. You have to talk, too, about so many things, but right now you only pull Jamie toward your bedroom.

There'll be time for all of that. After all, you're not going anywhere.

#this was so fun i like angst that rips your heart out and then resolves itself #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #part 2 #anon ask #leo writes

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