#so yeh.....shit's fucked up sometimes

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Cut the Shit-Delusion, Sweetheart | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

summary: A young actress confesses her feelings to Cillian Murphy, this is how he responds.

warning: This is a much different story than I usually write but I think it's one that we all need in moments of pain and loneliness; to allow ourselves to feel sad and disappointment and hurt. We use people like Cillian to comfort ourselves and give ourselves reasons to be happy and sometimes we need moments to be sad. I was inspired by Fleabag (of course) and an AI edit I saw of Cillian where he turns someone down and its really sweet even though it breaks my heart lol. Age-diff, 1 noncon kiss, talk of infidelity.

word count: 1791+k

Blue Light- Mazzy Star 🎶

Don't interact if you're a Yvonne-hater, please and thanks <3

She hesitated before she knocked on the side-door of Cillian’s trailer. This desperate feeling overwhelmed her and she knew that she couldn’t sleep unless she went to him and confessed how she felt. She’d been plagued by dreams of them together, these beautiful, perfect dreams that poisoned her sleep like melatonin. She loved him and whether or not he felt the same way, she needed to tell him. She exhaled shakily as she dropped her arm back to her side. She was wearing her normal clothes, out of costume finally after a long day of shooting. She lost her sense of security behind the battlements of her gowns and numerous frilly things. She couldn’t hide her feelings behind her character anymore. 

The door opened and Cillian leaned against the doorframe in a casual greeting. 

“Don’t tell me we have a late night call time tonight, I’m fucking exhausted.” He smiled with his lopsided grin, his wide lips framing his teeth.

“No, but there is some business I need to attend to. May I come in?” She returned his smile and mirrored his posture. 

“Sure, come on.” He stepped aside and raised his arm in a welcoming gesture for her to pass through the door. She nodded in silent thanks and stood awkwardly in his trailer which was simple and quaint. Except for the unmade bed, the trailer was neat and orderly. 

“Oh fuck I’m sorry, were you asleep when I knocked?” She blushed and squeezed her palms together in an anxious gesture. 

“Nah, I was just reading the script for a movie my agent wants me to do next.” 

“Oh,” she nodded and turned her attention to the rack of costumes his character wore, “is it any good?” 

“It's definitely interesting but I don’t think it’s t’e right film for me.” He sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. Cillian was wearing a plain t-shirt and pajama pants, and seeing the innocent-intimate side of his life made her want so desperately to kiss him. She sat on the small couch he had in the trailer and tried to smile. 

“That’s too bad. Is it anything I’d like?” She joked and he nodded seriously. 

“Actually, yeh. I’ll send it over once I’m through. I’ve been re-reading it.” He moved his hands through the air as he spoke, so unlike his characters. She almost laughed and he smiled. 

“So, what can I do for you? You said you had some business to attend to. Sounds serious. Should I be worried?” He raised his eyebrow and crossed his legs, his hands cupped around the edge of the mattress. She tried to speak and immediately failed. Frustrated and embarrassed tears filled her eyes and she hid them by looking up at the ceiling. Cillian furrowed his brow, concerned. 

“What’s wrong?” He leaned forward on the bed and she shook her head, laughing lightly at herself. 

“I feel so incredibly stupid now for coming here.” She looked away and the bed squeaked softly as Cillian stood and joined her on the couch. She scooted over to give him some room and picked at the skin on her hands. 

“You can always come to me. Whatever it is.” He said softly and the air around them stilled with anticipation.

“Oh don’t say that, Cillian. You’re so kind…” she started to cry and tried to hide her face. 

“Fuck, I hate tears, please don’t cry! Did somet’ing happen?” He raised his hands helplessly, holding them over her without being sure what to do with them. She nodded her head slowly and hiccuped pitifully. 

“You’ll have to forgive me for my comforting abilities. I’ve never been good on t’at front and I have boys so I’m better at comforting members of the male species.” He shrugged and smiled, trying to lighten the mood. She laughed despite herself and wiped her eyes. She stood and paced the front of the trailer, knowing that it was now or never. 

“Cillian, this is such a horrible way to end your nice evening but I can’t continue on set without getting this off my chest. I hope you’ll forgive me.” She dared herself to look at him and he met her eyes, holding her eye-contact with mature resolve. 

“Of course.” He nodded softly, wrinkling his forehead, now more concerned with what his costar was going to tell him. He was naive. He assumed she was going to tell him that she couldn’t work with him anymore or that something had happened in their scenes that had made her uncomfortable. He shifted uneasily on the couch, watching her. She tried to speak a few times but exhaled and shook her head. Cillian stood and met her where she was standing. He was a good few feet taller than her and so much older, but having him there beside her made the feelings she wanted to tell him about so much stronger. 

“Cillian, this isn’t easy to say,” she looked down at her hands and then up into his clear blue eyes. “I have feelings for you, more than our professional relationship can offer. Working with you on set all this time has… it’s made my feelings so much harder to ignore, Cillian.” 

He froze and remembered to breathe, drawing in a startled breath. 

“T’at wasn’t what I was expecting you to say.” He ran his hand over his mouth and looked away, his blue eyes moving through his hidden thoughts. 

“I know you probably don’t feel the same but I just… it’s driving me mad, Cillian. It’s becoming a form of method acting that isn’t fun anymore.” She tried to laugh lightly but grimaced and put the backs of her hands against her burning cheeks. 

“Yeh…” he nodded and sighed, his eyes wide. 

She groaned and returned to the couch, sitting on her sweaty hands. 

“I can go, Cillian. I can leave if you don’t want me here anymore.” She whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. 

“No, no. We need to talk t’rough this.” He said calmly, slowly, and covered his mouth with his freckled hand. 

“Oh God, I’ve gone and fucked everything up. I’m sorry Cillian. I knew you didn’t feel the same but I still let myself go to you.” She leaned back against the couch and pulled her hands through her hair and pulled the skin back from her face. 

“Stop it. Don’t say t'at.” Cillian snapped not unkindly but sternly and took a deep breath. “See, we need to talk about t’is so we can still work together, eh?” He ran a hand through his own dark hair and looked at her for a moment, thinking. 

“How, Cillian? If you knew how I felt about you… it’s maddening. I can’t sleep, Cillian. You’re all I think about as pathetic as it sounds,” she took a deep breath, “I love you. And now you’ll hate me.” She continued and moved her hands, clasped together between her knees.

Cillian sighed and moved abruptly to her side on the couch, opening his body towards her. 

“Don’t talk for me, eh? Look, I understand. It’s hard to not develop certain er… feelings when we do what we do, right?” He cocked his head to the side and licked his lips awkwardly.

“I know I’m childish, Cillian, but I can’t help it. I’m suffering without you… without more from you, more than we can do on set.” She whined and rubbed her shoulders as if she were cold. “Can you indulge me? Do you feel even a little of what I do?” She whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. He said nothing for a second before running his hands up and down his face, exhaling loudly into his palms. He put his hands down and leaned towards her on his elbows. 

“I’m married, sweetheart. Yvonne is my wife and I love her.” He whispered softly, his hands splitting the space between them. 

“But I love you.” She whispered back and leaned in to kiss him. He allowed her to kiss him once and when she pulled away, dejected, he took her chin gently. 

“Cut the shit-delusion, sweetheart. You’re young… far too young for me. You may t’ink you love me but you don’t know me.”

He took her face in his hands and smiled sadly as tears rolled down her pink cheeks. 

“I know you’ll find someone who truly loves you. You’re a beautiful young woman who has her entire life ahead of her. I’m flattered t'at you feel t’at way about me but we can’t, I can’t. If the roles were reversed and we were married and Yvonne approached me, wouldn’t you want me to stop t’ings before t’ey went too far?” He supported her head as she dropped it slightly to the side. She felt empty of words and so he continued. 

“You’re a darling girl but you know we can’t do t’is.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb and wiped away her tears. “You need a boy your age who knows how to love you in the way you need to be loved. I only know how to love my wife… and she’s the only one who knows how to love me.”

“I could have loved you in whatever way you needed.” She whispered weakly and he smiled softly. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothed her like a father, “but you wouldn’t have been happy wit' me. You’re out of my league and you would have gotten bored of me.” He joked lightly and she allowed a pained smile to form on her lips. 

“I’m sorry, Cillian. I feel like such a fool.” She closed her eyes and he hugged her close. 

“Nah, you’re still a kid. You’re many t’ings but foolish is not one of ’em.” He squeezed her tightly and kissed her head affectionately. “You’re a good kid and a great actress. We’ll be fine, the two of us, eh?” He pulled away and she wiped her eyes dry. 

“I’ll try.”  

She kissed him briefly on the cheek and rose to her feet. She walked to the door and looked back at the actor with a small smile, the door open in front of her.

“Goodnight, Cillian.” 

He nodded from the couch. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

Cillian stood and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears. 

“You weren’t the only one.... That is, you weren’t the only one who felt…” he broke off and cleared his throat, “but it's better t’is way, yeh?.... It’ll pass, love. It’ll pass.” 

He met her eyes one last time and she nodded sadly yet full of a completeness found in their mutual understanding. 

“Goodnight, Cillian.” She said again and closed the door behind her and left the trailer, walking with her back to the wind. Cillian collapsed back on the couch and looked at his watch, wondering if Yvonne was awake. She always answered his calls. She put up with everything, God bless her. She was everything and more than he deserved. He rang her up and she answered after the second ring, her voice ringed with sleepiness.

"Heya, love." He whispered with a smile, "No, everyt'ing's fine. I just wanted to call you. I miss you, girl. Yeah, yeah. Put them on."

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #cillian fluff #oppenheimer #cillian fic #cillian fanfic #fanfiction

[raffe156]

Quick Drabble based around an ask from the lovely roaringinthedeep💖

Hope you like it 😂

“He’s going to say no”

“Noooooo really Kyle? What makes you think that?”

Kyle looked at you his face dead pan.

“I’m not going to tell him, I’ll keep him in your room”

“Wait what? Tank he’s not staying in my room! I’ve already got Lucy in there….”

You tilted your head.

“Lucy?….you named the cat lucy?”

“….yeh she’s pretty…an Lucy is a pretty name…why what?”

“No!….nothing, it is a pretty name!”

“Ohh an what you going to name this guy?”

“…..”

“Well?”

“Sid…”

“Sid?” Kyle cocked his eyebrow at you.

“Yeh Sid vicious”

“For god sake Tank! Wouldn’t he be better in one of the rookies room?”

“Nope, the majority of them already have a kitten or two each remember….the litter we found the other week? To be honest we’ve done pretty well considering…Price hasn’t clocked any of them yet touch wood!” You knocked on Kyles head laughing.

“Shit yeh we have…what about you keeping him in your room?…Price is more likely to be on my side of the base than he is yours, let alone your room!”

You went silent, your eyes wandering away from Kyles. He didn’t know how wrong he was.

“….No….no just get him in your room…I’ll send Rudy your way he said he can get some dog food but for now don’t let anyone see him! I’ll keep Price occupied”

You handed Kyle the makeshift lead and crouched giving Sid a kiss.

“Now you be a good boy for uncle Kyle! mummy is going to sort somethings out but I’m sure uncle Kyles won’t mind giving you a bath while she’s away! Yeh? Yeh? Good boy!” You scratched Sids ears.

“You want me to give him a bath? Tank!”

“Be a good boy Kyle!”

He was already mumbling something else but you had already walked away looking for Price.

*******

“Tank you really need to check over your mission reports before submitting them to me…not that I don’t mind this quality time that we get, but I’m practically rewriting this for you…” Price looked up at you.

You shifted on his lap, a pout forming.

“It’s hard when you have Soap reading out loud, sometimes I write what he’s saying..see that line there? Soap said that…” you rested you head on his shoulder.

“So why didn’t you rewrite it to make sense?” It was a genuine question.

“…..by that point I was too far in…anyway where were we?” You pressed yourself into him, your lips finding his earlobe. It made his face flush you could tell he liked it he was shifting in his seat.

“Haha I hope this isn’t a distraction tactic Tank?”

You stopped immediately, pulling back to look him in the face.

“What…what do you mean by that? Why would I need to distract you?” Maybe he was already on to you. Maybe one of the rookies had fucked up…

Price looked confused.

“I mean you are clearly trying to distract me from your shitty penmanship? And mildly inaccurate report?” Price cocked his eyebrow at you, he had a feeling you were hiding something else now and as if the universe had answered his suspicions there was a loud bang and shouting coming from the hanger.

Your head whipped to the direction of his office door a slight look of panic on your face, you could hear Kyle shouting followed by Rudy yelling something in Spanish.

Shit.

“What the fucks going on out there?” Price looked at you again.

“Don’t know…leave ‘em to it I say…” you tried your hardest to bring his focus back to you, but it was no good Price was already standing up causing you to slide off his lap.

Shit.

“Tank, something tells me that whatever is going on out there has something to do with you…please tell me I’m wrong..”

“You’re wrong?”

“Surprisingly I’m not convinced” an with that he walked out of his office with you close behind.

Price wasn’t prepared for the utter scene he was presented with.

Kyle was holding a cat, Soap was gripping a large “dog” by its collar an Ghost was holding a small black kitten in his hand, a crowd had gathered. What the actual hell? He glanced down at you, you 100% were behind this he knew that for a fact. He pinched the bridge of his nose an let out a large sigh.

“Can someone please help me understand what is going on? I know which individual is behind it but why has it now become a group project?”

“I haven’t a clue Captain, me an Ghost were just out here minding our business, just been tormenting some rookies…then all of a sudden out comes that cat Kyle has hold of being chased by this big wet bastard!” Soap readjusted his hold on Sids collar.

You looked at them both…Soap was soaked and Sid still have some foam on his coat. Kyle had tried to bath him!

Everyone looked at each other in agreement as Price turned to you again. You tried to think quick.

“Wanna explain yourself kid?”

“Not really sir no”

“Your not keeping him…”

Your face dropped, you knew that was going to be the answer…but you thought you would have more time to convince him.

“Why not…he can stay on base then we can ship him back with us…”

“That’s a coyote Tank…” Ghost didn’t even look up when he spoke, the little black kitten had made its way under his hoodie.

Everyone turned their heads to look at Soap an Sid…who was licking Soaps face. Oh on further inspection yeh he was kind of more wolf like than dog like….

Soap must not of heard Ghost as he now had Sid on his back an was rubbing his belly asking him ‘who’s a good boy’, Kyle looked mortified as he held Lucy closer to his chest.

“Well to be fair in the dark he looked like a husky mix…”

You looked at Price he wasn’t amused.

“Rudy can you sort this please, call the right people? I think we have enough wild animals on the base thank you” he sighed as he gripped the back of your neck.

“Oh so you know about the litter of kittens the rookies have, that where you got that little guy Lt?”Kyle looked shocked.

“Yep” Ghost answered.

Price rolled his eyes.

“No Kyle….I didn’t..”

Price’s grip on your neck got a tiny bit tighter.

Shit.

#captain price #captain john price #john price #price x tank #call of duty #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #modern warfare #task force 141 #ghost #ghost simon riley #kyle gaz garrick #cod oc tank #cod oc #cod drabble

[tarttheart]

PRECIOUS LOVE: CHAPTER 9 - JAMIE TARTT x YOU

summary: you receive an offer of help.

word count: 660 words

warnings: language

-

chapter 9: its teaching me

You: Jamie knows.

Keeley: I’ll be there in half an hour.

Rebecca: See you both soon.

You: I’ll leave the door unlocked.

For the first time in months, there were no tears. You had no tears left to shed about this entire saga. Was it a good thing? Was this progress? You were not sure but Keeley and Rebecca had wrapped you up and cuddled you to bits anyway.

“I should apologise first for ghosting the both of you the last couple of months,” you piped up and the two shrugged it off.

“Babes, you were dealing with a lot and sometimes we sort our shit out with people and sometimes we don’t. We knew you’d come around eventually.”

“What she said,” Rebecca said, raising a glass.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you replied graciously, peeping out from under your quilt.

“So, out with it then, how’d it all go? You wouldn’t have us here if you didn’t want to tell us.”

You groaned, hiding under your covers again.

“It was awful. Michael started at my workplace a few months ago and we hit it off. He convinced me to go on a blind date with his boyfriend’s teammate and when he said teammate, I thought he meant like an office team. Like the marketing team, you know? Not a fucking premier league team,” you ranted from under your covers.

“Right, Colin’s Michael is your colleague.”

“Yea, Colin. I don’t know. Michael doesn’t follow football so I assumed he wouldn’t be involved with someone whose entire livelihood depends on football. And then, Jamie of all the fucking people on the team has to show up.”

“Babes, you ever considered why that might be? Maybe you guys are better suited for each other than you think,” Keeley asked gently as she stroked your arm.

“It’s not that I don’t like Jamie. Wouldn’t have slept with him if I didn’t. I just…” you sighed, fiddling with your quilt, “I just can’t see us being together now.”

Rebecca huffed, pausing for a moment before she started, “darling, we love you, you know that. So, it really fucking hurts to watch you punish yourself for something you had no control over. I know what you went through was fucking hard and it must hurt like a son of a bitch. I’m not going to diminish your pain and I admire your strength to even get to this point but you have been suffering for a long, long time. Maybe it’s time to let the wound heal? It might leave a scar but scars are beautiful. It shows everyone how strong you are and it makes you you.”

“Yeh, I’ve got one from when I stepped on a sea urchin during a photoshoot.”

You and Rebecca laughed at Keeley’s input and Keeley smiled, “fina-fucking-lly, a smile.”

You heaved a long sigh, “I need help, don’t I?”

“Well, I was thinking about this. Why don’t you see Dr Sharon? She’s the club psychologist,” Rebecca held up her hand when she saw you about to interrupt, “let me finish. She can see you online so you won’t have to go anywhere near Nelson Road if you don’t want to. And, if you don’t feel comfortable with her, I’m sure she will be able to find someone who you can talk to.”

“I appreciate the offer, Rebecca, but I don’t work for the club or do anything related to the club.”

“Well, in a way, it’s related to Jamie and he’s at the club, so as boss, I’ll allow it.”

“I—I…”

“Think about it. You don’t have to say anything right away. When you’re ready, the offer is there if you’d like it.”

“Thanks Rebecca.”

You held out her arms and Rebecca moved from her seat in the corner of the room to give you a squeeze, you and Keeley shuffling to give her room to join you two on the bed. Your bed and heart have never felt this full.

-

< chapter 8 | master list | chapter 10 >

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x ofc #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt imagine

[mushroommanstan]

A Few Too Many Lingering Touches

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shigaraki x reader

Warnings: suggestive themes, death

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, barkeep. I’d like a cosmopolitan please, thank you”. The new recruit ordered, not even sparing you a glance. Her eyes were glued to your boyfriend, Shigaraki.

It was only her fourth day at the league, but she attempted to steal your man countless times. The attempts were subtle, wearing low cut clothes that lead nothing to the imagination, pretending to drop something and bending over seductively in order to get his attention, even going as far as to run her hands over his shoulders teasingly when he was distracted. This managed to catch the eyes of just about everyone in the league, all except for him. And she had no idea what she was doing wrong.

You did though. The problem was you stole his heart first.

You weren’t worried in the slightest. She could walk in completely naked apart from a giant neon sign pointing at her crotch that said “fuck me Shigaraki Tomura” and he wouldn’t so much as look at her. It was because he was yours just as much as you were his, and you knew absolutely nothing could separate you and him. Many women had tried, none have succeeded, hell AFO was getting worried about your guy’s relationship and gave Shig a living sex doll programmed especially for him. She didn’t even last a day.

None of this stopped you from hating her guts though, and hating the way she still attempted to catch his eye while you were still in the room. Granted she didn’t know you two were a thing, but you were sure she’d learn soon enough.

She walked over to the couch where Shigaraki was sitting, expertly tapping away at his controller, completely focused on the game. When she tried to start up a conversation with him, he was annoyed, but just assumed she weren’t adjusted to his aloof behavior. She’d learn soon enough that he wasn’t much for conversation.

To be honest, he did notice her behavior around him, but he didn’t really connect the dots that they were flirtatious.

He saw how you dressed around him, but hey, he let Spinner wear Stain cosplay, he let Toga wear a school girl outfit even though she clearly wasn’t enrolled. I mean, for gods sake more often than not he wore the the corpse hand of the man, his father, that he killed on his face. He really wasn’t in the right place to judge someone on how they dressed. That right belonged to Mr Compress.

He also noticed her always dropping shit and bending over to pick it back up. He just thought she was a clumsy piece of shit, and made sure to let her know that whenever it happened. He just made a mental note not to give her any crucial roles in missions that required her handling important equipment.

And finally, he did noticed her teasing touches, and yeah, he was pretty annoyed. He’d shiver whenever she did that, and she always took that as a victory, but really it was from his inexperience with being touched that wasn’t meant to hurt him. He definitely intended to scold to her for it, but at the moment he found himself too busy to care. He just made another mental note and tried to avoid her as much as possible.

And here she was, sitting a little too close on the couch with him, but once again he was too busy to care at the moment. If he didn’t beat Spinners high score before Saturday, he’d have to give up the last bag of flaming hot Cheetos in the pantry and that was not happening.

He hoped that if he kept his answers short and blunt she’d get the message and squawk at someone else but she didn’t mind essentially talking to a brick wall.

“So… what do you do for fun around here?”

“This”

“Oh nice… but like, are there any good food places around here?”

“Ramen shop ‘s ok”

“Mmm, sounds goood, maybe you’d like to show me sometime?”

“Prolly not”

“Oh, do you have a girlfriend or something?”

“Yeh”

“That’s ok, she doesn’t have to know~”

Now he was getting the feeling something was off.

“Know what?” He grunted.

She giggled, leaning in to whisper something in his ear you couldn’t hear.

His eyes widened and his brow furrowed at the filth he was hearing. He jolted when she was done, causing him to disintegrate his controller. When he finally spared her a glance, his icey stare told her she done fucked up.

“Are you fucking deaf? I said I had a girlfriend! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He shouted, getting up from his seat.

She desperately mumbled trying to save herself but it was too late, the dots started connecting. She looked around the lounge for help but everyone averted their eyes from her, refusing to make eye contact as he continued.

“Holy shit have you been trying to seduce me?! The fucking mini skirt?! The clumsy bullshit?! The uncomfortable touches?!”

You giggled, wiping down the surface of the bar. She was so screwed.

She desperately apologized but it was too late, her fate was sealed as he reached over and disintegrated her smug face for disrespecting you like that. In a matter of seconds she was reduced to a pile of blood and ash on the floor, the remaining bits of flesh no larger than an iPhone.

He panted, calming himself down, before rushing up to you and grabbing you by your wrist. He pulled you along, walking to the stairwell. You asked where you were going.

“Bedroom. I have a few things I want to try with you.”

#my hero academia #shigaraki tenko #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki fluff

[beastblade69]

the great reason of me becoming fixated on one flew is literally my fixation MY MADLY STRONG FIXATION on everything related to psych wards and psychiatry overall. but like idkk, I'm literally watching dozens of movies about psych wards, my books are mosty only about psych wards, STILL MY BRAIN'S CHOSEN TO FIXATE ON ONE FLEW. WHY?? I HAVE NO CLUE. I WAS LIKE. I just finished watching hannibal series back then and remembered about our teacher telling us about one flew over the cuckoo's nest aka "the movie about how mental patients were treated not so long ago". obviously I became excited because of my fixation. so I've watched the movie. AND OMG, I LITERALLY COULDN'T QUIT THINKING ABOUT IT FOR ALL NIGHT LONG. still I hoped that it wasn't a fixation obsession, just like yk sometimes you get that average obsession that fades away pretty quickly. BUT NUH, WHEN I WOKE UP NEXT DAY I STILL WASN'T ABLE TO THINK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE BUT ONE FLEW. AND SO YEH, UNFORTUNATELY FOR ME IT WAS A FIXATION. unfortunately because THIS FUCKING SHIT IS DRAMATIC AF AND NOT THAT SILLY AS MY USUAL HYPERFIXATIONS WERE (literally metalocalypse and gwar. two silly ass bands). SO YES, I'VE ORDERED A BOOK THAT MORNING AND SHIT MY LIFE WAS NEVER THE SAME AFTER THEN. I'LL NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS BOOK. but actually if we're comparing a book's and movie's ending I'd prefer the book's one (with all my love towards final movie gay scene, but nuh, book's def better) because in the book mcmurphy at least prevailed over the system. and almost everyone was released (not tge poor billy boy unfortunately 😔😔😔): harding finally got better and left, some other patients also left or switched wards. my beloved girlie aka chief finally got out and ratchet was defeated. it's almost a happy ending if comparing to the movie, where mcmurphy died literally for nothing. movie mcmurphy is not that deep at all, just a silly a bit stupid dude so yeah, okay, I wasn't expecting something deep from him anyways

[ruthlesslistener]

Oohhh I get it now. But tbh if I'm going to be honest, at least proshippers hide their stuff away in their respective dark areas/behind safe walls and even tag and warn people about the dark content they make. Antis dont, they just invade places and engage in the said dark content just to get mad at it. At least from my own experiences from them. Idk I just see most proshippers as responsible in managing what they make, while antis don't. I actually got a taste of dark content from antis myself as a kid, in a lot of callouts made by antis lololol. And not because the proshipper were demanding their content be known. Its been like that even now actually, where dark content gets shoved in people's faces purely because an anti is trying to act like a hero. Though this is just my experience with them.

Another thing if you wouldn't mind, is that while it's true that dark content can lead to a lot of things in real life. I personally see that it has to be allowed to exist, because dark content shows the dark realities of life and that we shouldn't just leave it/ignore it. I seen victims of abuse for example, who had their experiences validated from reading dark content/about their abuse in stories. Or like the fact that a certain famous entertainment company doesnt want to show blood in their content because of "violence" in shows where kids and adults are watching, where some have pointed out that not showing even a small proportions of what violence can do (blood) will lead to a very naive understanding of the consequences of violence. Shocking because this is a western company, and the TV show in question involves guns and... you get the idea. Don't get me started on censorship and how that can get out of hand so easily.

I don't think I'm explaining this well but yeh. Dark content is needed and should be allowed to exist in my personal views, but should still be allowed to exist behind close doors and away from people who don't want to see it. You can delete this ask if it makes you uncomfortable, I'm just trying to put my two cents into this convo. But yeh, I prefer to live in a world where dark content exists and not one where its nothing but "wholesome" and "pure".

.

[Tone: calm and neutral]

Oh no yeah I agree with you 100%, this is my exact stance on things and is a mirror to most of my experiences- hell, I like exclusively dark content and part of the reason for that is bc I came from a psychologically/emotionally (and sometimes physically) where 'we're all just a big happy family and you're ruining it you little freak' was a big problem. Stuff that's just pure and wholesome actually makes me feel uneasy and on edge all the time because I always feel like the other shoe is about to drop, while horror is comforting because I can read the situation and know what's happening. Part of the issue in my household also stems from the fact that my dad has an issue with differentiating fiction and reality (he suffers from untreated ocd and paranoia and a whole slew of other issues), and he used to blame the stuff I was reading for making me 'disrespectful' and 'cold' whenever I dared to have a negative emotion- hence me just seeking out more and more fucked up shit so that I could vent my anger without getting cussed out (though it also was bc I wasn't allowed to watch anything over a G rating til I was fucking. 16.). Without going into more detail, he used extremely similar tactics to antis and that's why I have such a strongly negative response to them, discounting all of the times where I had nasty run-ins with them. I very much hate all of them and it is because I had to deal with people like them my whole life. It wasn't fun.

I have very few actual squicks, and if I'm in a curious mood I'll also read stuff even if it disgusts me- and hell, sometimes their are exceptions. Captive Prince is a series I'm very fond of full of rape, csa, incest, and psychological abuse, but the reason why I love it despite the content is because it is a very compelling story about how horrible all that abuse is and how deeply fucked up it can make a person, as well as how awful the victim can seem when your pov is being manipulated by the abuser. The problem I have isn't content-based as much as it is the people, and, to the lesser extent, the tone of some of what they make.

See, what soured me on proshippers aren't people who are quietly making darker content and posting/tagging it properly (those are just normal writers and artists imo), I'm talking those who proudly proclaim themselves as proship, aka the vocal few balls deep in The Discourse who make it their whole personality trait. They're mostly centered to Twitter rather than Tumblr nowadays, but the problem with said vocal minority is that they are. Well. Extremely fucking annoying, entitled, tone-deaf, and just overall awful people. Almost everyone who proudly flaunts that they're proship is so balls-deep in the discourse that they feel personally victimized by anyone who shows any negative reaction to the gross shit they're into bc that automatically means they're a puritan, when sometimes it really is just an expression of disgust. Twitter proshippers are a whole different breed than Tumblr ones after the porn ban, but unfortunatly I keep getting their arguments shown to me when I'm on the site scrolling for furry porn and its...bad. It's real fucking bad. Not as bad as antis half the time but certainly not much better in how they treat people and their personal boundaries.

It's also the people who will take content that's pretty fucked up and spins it through a fandom lens that also gets me, though most of the time I just block and move on with a bad taste in my mouth instead of getting actually angry. And by 'fandom lens', I mean people who will take a rape/abuse/etc situation and then go 'oh but what if they're a couple with only a few pokes at the fucked up elements in canon. Ex, some (admittedly few, but they exist) people ship Mohg and Miquella as a reciprocal pairing despite it being a kidnapping and nonconsensual body modification incest-for-power situation, and that just...it feels so wrong. It's just so shallow and such a bad take read on a complex situation that I cannot stand it, it makes me want to run the opposite way. I have zero authority to force people to not do things ofc, I'm not a fucking cop, but those people give me the vibe of someone who'd not help you out with an abusive partner because 'oh but his posessiveness and controlling nature is just so cute, and he clearly loves you so its okay!' and that rings the alarm bells of someone that I do NOT want to be around even if it logically means nothing.

Does that make sense? It's a convoluted mess, but I hope I made it more clear that it's not so much the content that bothers me as much as it is the people and how they use it.

#knittingworm #ex the people i thought were proshippers in my askbox were the ones who kept arguing over ethics even when i said i was uncomdortable #thats the sort of 'no boundary respect only argue' thing that upsets me not rlly what people are into #its very much how people treat other people that bothers me about the Disc Horse #reply

[hollowknightinsanity]

ok let’s try this again shall we? *grabs my internet* you’d better fucking work this time or i swear to whatever god you pray to i am going to rip you in half.

*scrambles out of The Pit, shaking uncontrollably* DONE!!!! ITS DONE

*SLAMS THIS ON THE TABLE*

HOLLY REF SHEET.

my babygirl. my darling. my beloved. prettiest bug in hallownest.

i would’ve added their shade, nail, and random doodles, but i was eepy… and i hit my 40-layer limit like 3 times. that’s what i get for working on such an unnecessarily bigass canvas

hex codes and rambles under the cut <3 (cw: i talk about self harm when i bring up their scars)

also ignore the fact that i left the silly little meme face in the ref. i dont feel like getting rid of it

#0f0f0f (skin/hair) — #1d1d1d (scars) — #c4a0a5 (inside of their ears) — # edebea (shell/healthy leaves) — #9abfa7 (healthy leaves) — #5e5e5e (shell damage) — #3e332f (prosthetic) — #292c53 (cloak) — #eeded5 (cloak fluff/inside of their cloak) — #e5e5ee (silk wraps) — #192030 (eye base) — #d5e2ff (pupil) — #000000 (blood) — #160828 (blood/soul) — #ffc171 (fixed crack) — #ceffdf (new leaves) — #a9a8a6 (wilting leaves) — #666e68 (wilting leaves)

yeh they have a TAIL now!!!! with LEAVES!!!!!!! their mom’s genetics :)))

the leaves are VERY poisonous to any species except their own and rootkin (aka wl’s species). like most plants, they need sunlight to grow, and if they got enough, holly would have leaves growing from their horns too!!! but they stay underground most of the time, so they only have leaves on their tail.

they got a lot of their mom’s genetics. the leaves, the long ass tail, the height, the rounder face, the eyes, the fluffiness, all inherited from wl.

hornet made their cloak a few days after they escaped the black egg. she saw how fucking RAGGED their old cloak was (the damn thing was torn to shreds and COVERED in blood), and she was like “damn, i need to make them a new cloak.” so she did that.

she had holly pick the fabrics. they like blue, and the faux-fur they found was SO fucking warm they just had to pick it.

and their silk wraps are indeed made of weaver silk, also courtesy of hornet. she’s a great little sister btw

almost all their scars happened after the seals faded. the only one that appeared prior to that was the crack on their face.

their arm was fucked up and destroyed by the infection (y’know, cysts growing everywhere and all that), and the only thing keeping it attached to holly’s body were the seals, so after they faded, it kinda just… fell off.

the stab wounds in their abdomen and chest are from them stabbing the shit out of themself thinking radi was still inside them. they has enough adrenaline in them to move around, so they attempted to evict her already deceased ass in the worst way possible. after that little show, they stopped being able to move for a few days, until they eventually crawled out of the black egg and scared the ever-loving fuck out of hornet who thought they were dead.

their blood is a mix of void and their soul, which is purple!

i wrote a whole thing about soul colours and their meanings back in 2019 or 2020, so its rlly old and i only have vague memories of what’s in it, but i do remember writing that people with purple souls are generally quieter and stricter, but generally are nice unless you piss them off. that description fits holly absolutely perfectly, so they have a purple soul now.

also, fun fact: holly needs a cane to walk sometimes. being chained up and suspended in the air, completely unable to move for 60 years really does something to ya.

fuck, now i need to draw their cane too.

theyre really old in the main au, btw. theyre 79. ancient ass. unlike their branch-off au counterparts, who are both in their early 30s.

ok that’s all *falls back into The Pit, still shaking uncontrollably*

#hk #hollow knight #hk spoilers #hollow knight spoilers #cw sh #cw self harm #cw blood #hk thk #hk hollow #the hollow knight #hk au #au #my au #my au art #au art #my art #art #digital art #hk art #hk fanart #funny silly art #hk normalcy #*normal sounds* #the blood ref is there so i can draw them absolutely destroyed escaping the black egg #anyway. hehe. bbg <3 #kisses them kisses them kisses them kisses them kisses them kisses them ki

[blueroses789]

I wish I could be stronger

Warnings:

Mental health issues

Smut

Angst

Domestic violence

next chapter: Anger is a poison to the heart

Chapter 21/

No Shits to Give: Chapter 21

Your heart wasn’t really into it. People always went on about how exciting shopping with friends for dresses was. You had received a text from Mikasa to go shopping with some friends. No response was sent. Things that once might have held excitement now seemed pointless. Who cared about shopping? It wasn’t even that you were mad, just tired. You had a lecture later in the day, but honestly who the fuck cared. Historia was ignoring your existence in class anyway. You could hear Historia and Ymir conversing outside. With a sigh, you turned over only to be blinded by the light. Annoyed, you got up and made to shut the curtains. In your frustration, you did it a little more aggressively than intended. The bar above gave way and fell down. “Fuck.” You hissed. Giving up you flopped onto the bed. Your eyes closed and mothers face appeared behind the eyelids. Never again would you be able to speak with her. All those things you could have said.

Someone knocked on your door. “Yes?” “Mikasa’s at the door.” Great. It was Ymir. Opening the door you came out, face to face with Ymir. Rolling your eyes, you walked past her to the door. Ignoring Historia, you closed the front door behind you for some privacy. “Are you okay Y/n?” Mikasa was looking at you, up and down. Feeling self-conscious, and then suddenly judged. Your arms wrapped themselves around you as a source of protection, like a cocoon. “Yeh. Good.” The words came out as more of a grunt. Eyes drifted to the side, unable to look at Mikasa properly. Her hand gently placed itself on your shoulder. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but a few of us are going to the mall. Do you want to come?” You thought about it. On one hand, you didn’t really want to be around anyone. On the other, you did need to get some things. “Okay. When?” “At 1 pm. Only if you want to of course.” “No I’ll come.” You put on a smile. Mikasa gave you a real one in return. It made you feel guilty.

You had a few hours to get ready. Sluggishly you gathered what you needed. Your mother's death hammered against your heart. Sometimes you wanted to tell someone, then nausea would overcome you. Once out of the shower, you realized you forgot to bring clothes with you. Damp and cold, you grumpily trudged off to your bedroom. Ymir was standing in the hallway outside of Historia’s door. Even before she opened her mouth you knew Ymir was soiling for a fight. “Wow. You’re desperate.” She sneered. “Sorry, not my type.” You returned. Ymir’s eyes narrowed. “Not me, dumbass. I’m not stupid.” With a look of condensation on your face you looked up and down. “Well that’s news to me.” And with that, you turned on your heel. But it seemed Ymir wasn’t done yet. “Oh no you don’t, I’m not done.” Ymir placed herself between you and your bedroom. “Well I am. Now move.” “You don’t get to prance around here and try to seduce Historia. Mina was right about you.” So Mina had something to do with this. “Well, I guess then Mina’s just as obsessed with me as you are of Historia. Pathetic.” Then with brutal strength, you hauled Ymir out of the way. She let out a cry of pain as she collided with the hall. At that moment Historia chose to come out. Seeing Ymir slumped against the wall and you standing over her, she made her mind up. “Y/n! What the hell?!” Historia rushed over to her girlfriend. “Maybe your girlfriend shouldn’t be harassing half-naked people.” All you wanted to do was change. But instead, you were stuck out here dealing with these two. Historia looked to Ymir for confirmation. “It’s nothing.” Ymir was looking at you, not with distaste as usual, but in shock. She honestly didn’t think you were capable of getting physical. “No it’s not.” Historia then rounded on you. “Tell me what happened.” She demanded. “Your idiot of a girlfriend thinks I have a crush on you.” Historia looked from you to Ymir, shocked. “Is this true?” “Yes.” Ymir said grudgingly. Historia took a deep breath. At that moment you made up your mind. “Ymir. I’m giving you an hour to take your things and go.” “Excuse me!? Who the fuck to you think you are?!” “Someone who fucking pays to live here Ymir. And let me remind you that you're not even supposed to live here. I want you out. I’ll go inside my room and leave you alone. And don’t touch any of my things.” Historia suddenly grabbed your shoulder. Not hard, she didn’t want to hurt you, but enough to stop you. “Y/n can we just talk about this?” She pleads. It was too much. “No! I am sick and tired of her harassing me, this is my fucking area too!” “I didn’t-” The laugh you let out was full of mirth. “As if, you just didn’t want to do anything about it.” And with that, you went into your room.

It only took Ymir half an hour to get her things out. The last close of the door was a relief. You walked out into the kitchen to see Historia, red-eyed with tear stains down her face. “Happy now?” “Yes I am.” You said it with no remorse.

Tag list:  

@jaegersdiary

@didiyogo    

@jeagersruletheworld

@maya3km  

@casinorose  

@erenjaegerwifee

#eren jeager #eren x mikasa #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren x reader #eren x reader smut #eren x reader fluff #eren #eren x reader angst #aot smut #snk smut #mikasa akerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa akerman x reader #historia x ymir #reiner x reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun #get ready for the angst and crack

[shostakobitchh]

chapter 47 sneak peek!

Squirrel was not nearly as appetizing as Sirius had thought it would be. It had looked better sitting in the tree and staring at him with black eyes than dead with it’s fucking hair sticking to his tongue.

It tasted like shit after a couple of bites — maybe Azkaban had done something to his sense of taste, but then again, Sirius had never had the pleasure of eating fucking squirrel. It was the only thing he’d been able to catch in this sodding Forest — everything else was a magical creature — far too fast for him to catch, even as Padfoot. Sirius didn’t dare turn back into his human form yet. He’d be even more fucking useless as a man than a dog— he didn’t have a wand, and was there really even a point to changing back if he couldn’t do any magic?

This had to be the worst thought out plan he’d ever fucking had. Goddamn Wormtail —

Well at least he was out of Azkaban. That was a start. And away from Bellatrix. He hoped she chipped her teeth biting away at the bars — crazy bitch.

Sirius spat out the remaining squirrel he was chewing at and padded away, looking for the break in the tree line. The students must have arrived at Hogwarts by now, he’d been traveling for ages. 

He didn’t even know where to start— he didn’t even have a plan. Merlin’s saggy balls, he didn’t even have a surefire way of getting into the fucking school. He could only imagine the professor’s reactions if Sirius sodding Black walked through the front door— he’d be Kissed before dinner, and then, they’d probably throw a Feast in celebration. 

He needed a fucking strategy. Those took time, though, and time wasn’t a luxury Sirius could afford. He’d had all the fucking time in the world in Azkaban, spending his nights planning the escape, when the line of Dementors would be thinnest, when Bella had lulled herself into that haze of detachment and euphoria. Sirius had heard her screaming almost four floors down once he’d worked his way between the bars, and even then, it took six guards drawing straws to choose who would go to check on her. 

Sometimes, he wondered if Remus had seen it too and recognized Peter. He would’ve dismissed it, probably. Denial had been his speciality, after all. Deny deny deny and you didn’t have to face up to it, deny deny deny. That’s why they’d figured he was the spy, anyway. Lily was the only one who doubted it, but that was Lily’s specialty, seeing the good in everyone. It had driven Sirius fucking ballistic. 

He stared at the tree line, surveying it for cover. He’d spent twelve years locked away from a crime he hadn’t committed— surely he could wait a week or so for Wormtail to make an appearance. That would give him time to scope the grounds, find any points of entry that might be able to work in the meantime. 

Just a while longer, he told himself. He’d get that little fucking shithead, he’d grab him in his maw and do what he should have done that day — a little while longer — only a while — 

A week or so to think about how Sirius was going to take Wormtail  apart. The exoneration could come after, Sirius supposed, because what greater proof was there than a body? 

He knew all too well. A finger had been enough for Sirius, he could only imagine Fudge’s reaction with an entire corpse. 

Still hungry, Sirius trotted along the thick foliage, making his way to the west end of the castle. He’d be able to see Gryffindor Tower from there and scavenge what he could from Hagrid’s hut. He always had food lying around for animals, and the food he fed his pets had to be better than the slop they gave Sirius in Azkaban (and squirrel). After a while, though, Sirius began to hear voices, voices from behind him, from within the Forest. 

Keeping low to the ground and covered by the bushes, Sirius stalked closer to the source, recognizing the chatter of students as a voice bellowed over them — Hagrid. 

“Everyone gather ’round the fence here! That’s it — make sure yeh can see — now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books —”

He was a professor, now? Christ, what else had he missed? Next thing Sirius knew, he’d find out that there was an ex-Death Eater teaching Defense or some other bullshit. Sirius poked his nose through some shrubs, scanning over the class, noting that it was Gryffindors and Slytherins, until he saw —

A low growl escaped from the back of Sirius’s throat. It was the ginger boy Sirius had seen with Wormtail — a Weasley. Ryan or Rolph or something. And beside him was — 

The baby — her. Ariel. Christ, the name was still too much of a fucking mouthful. She was a clone of Lily, dark auburn hair and a clump of freckles over her nose, but she was shorter and stood almost hunched, her arms wrapped around herself as though she were cold. When she tilted her head in Sirius’ direction, he noticed that she had dark circles beneath her eyes, almost as dark as her eyes.  

And then her eyes met his, and they widened. 

Sirius felt himself give a little whine, his tag wagging involuntary. James would’ve been relieved, knowing she turned out like Lily. Sirius had made the comment to him about the baby getting his bloody magic hair and he’d gone a little white at that.

#aim and ignite #writing until my hands fall off #hp fanfic #harry potter fanficition #sirius

[bucketofchum]

oh my godd poor Atumu..... poor baby ahh

-shy anon

Yeh the part I didn't write about (the roughly TWO years he spends bed bound and restrained, starved and dehydrated and neglected, while not knowing why or what was going on - if he did anything wrong/what he did to deserve this) were literally some of the worst thing moments of Atumu's life. It was SUCH a bad time not just for physical deterioration reasons but also bc of the mental anguish of "why is this happening? What did I do?"

It's so so so fucking miserable.

In the end, it was actually a moment when King was high (sometimes King uses opium to cope with life), and stumbles into Anhar's room and talks to Atumu/Anhar that Atumu is roused out of his comatose state. The really really tragic thing is that he would have been responsive if anyone actually engaged with him. But no one did. Radu and Dani would be the only ones who drip honey water into his mouth, or give him sugar water enemas just to make sure his body was absorbing some water and nutrients. But besides those rare minutes in the day, he had absolutely no interaction with anyone while literally being bound on the bed. If King had come in to talk to him at any point in those many many months, Atumu would have been responsive. But he didn't.

So it was only when King was high out of his mind and goes into the room and rambles, speech slurred, to Anhar that Atumu becomes responsive. He asks for forgiveness. Then he asks for death.

So King is like sloppily making out with barely lucid Atumu, and Atumu is kissing back hard, but just cuz he's so fucking dehydrated that his throat just tastes like metallic blood and King's saliva is just about the only moisture he has gotten all day. King is too high out of his mind to realise that Atumu is actually awake and conscious, and definitely too delirious to understand what's going on and to give Atumu actual water 😭😭😭

So they have a sloppy make out session but it's just King being high and Atumu being so fucking dehydrated. And when Atumu can finally speak, his first words are an apology. "I'm sorry, Master. Whatever I have done, I am sorry." He doesn't know what he has done to deserve this fate, but he knows he must have done something. It's all he can think about, when he can think. King is still way too high to understand what's going on. Doesn't realise these are the first words that Atumu has uttered in almost a year. He just slurs a "Hmmm? Whuh--"

"I understand that I have failed you. You are in good hands with Danica and Radu. If you have no further use for me, I ask that you end my life." And King is still too high out of his mind and just falls asleep on Atumu. Atumu would cry if he had any moisture to spare. He also just like...he doesn't even know if he's still alive. Atumu also goes to sleep again after that bc he basically thinks he is dead.

The next day, King wakes up and is like..?? Oh boy wow that was embarrassing. He wakes up in the arms of his comatose captive slave, who resembles his most beloved life companion, after getting absolutely wasted on opium. How embarrassing. It's not a record low, but still bad enough that he would rather not talk about it. He mutters a soft apology to Anhar just out of reflex of politeness, and here is where Atumu actually responds.

Oh my god wait I just realized it gets so much worse before it gets better holy shit I'm about to break my own heart fuck.

Okay so Atumu responds, but just a soft exhale, mouthing "Master". And that's more movement than King has ever seen from Anhar in the past year or so. So he frantically grabs water to give to Atumu. He has to drip water into Atumu's mouth with his fingers first before Atumu can even properly drink. Atumu downs several glasses easily, but King stops because too much water too fast is also not good.

Okay so uhhhh-- I'm gonna fast forward through this bc it is still too heart breaking for me to deal with rn but I'll post about it later maybe. But uhhh. Okay so Atumu and King actually have a moment to talk. Like for real. Atumu again asks for forgiveness and death. King is entirely confused. He has never heard Anhar speak to him with such reverence. King is the only thing that matters to Atumu in his life, so if King does not want him around anymore - does not need him - he has no reason to continue to be alive. King is honestly confused by all of this.

Then uhhh the beginning of the end. Atumu calls him by his real name, which I won't write here just out of respect for King. King freezes. His mind reels. His body immediately goes into a panic attack. There is only one human being - only one BEING in existence, that he can recall telling his real name to, besides his family. And that was Atumu. King just experiences a whole array of traumatic flashbacks, reliving the pain of losing Atumu, of losing their daughter. Centuries of mourning. He staggers backwards and collapses, heaving from the panic attack.

Atumu is still bed bound at this time. Not only bed bound but literally BOUND TO THE BED. his wrists are bound to each headboard post and his ankles to the end posts of the bed. His body has been bound in this position for months. His limbs, tendons, ligaments, muscles, are dehydrated like beef jerky. But hearing his Master wheezing, sobbing, crying, screaming, wailing, calling out his name - "Atumu" - Atumu fights to move for the first time. He needs to be there for his Master.

King is knelt on the floor, wailing and gasping, trapped in his own memories. The door is locked, so even though Dani and Radu can hear their Master, they can't get in. They desperately search for the skeleton key.

Atumu screams as he rips his arms from the bedposts. The ligaments in his shoulders and elbows tear horribly. But Atumu has tremendous strength when he needs to have it, and hearing his Master in pain like this necessitates this. He pulls his arms with such force that it breaks the wooden bed posts - the rope still tied around each post, and the other end of the ropes still tied around his wrists. Neither of his arms are functional anymore - dislocated either at the shoulders or at the elbows from this horrible action. They hang limply at his side as he throws his body on the ground, crawling like a worm towards his still sobbing Master. The wooden bedposts dragging behind him.

He has no use of his arms, so he can't prop himself up. But when he reaches King, he presses his face into King's lap and whispers "Master, I'm here. I'm here, Master" in response to King wailing his name. King grabs onto Atumu and cradles his head, sobbing still. King is still fully lost in his memories, in his mind. He is not at all present, but having something to hold onto, hearing Atumu's voice, seems to help a bit.

By now, Radu has found the skeleton key, and manages to open the locked door. Radu and Danica see a horrifying scene. Their Master, in horrendous distress, and Anhar - their prisoner ward who had tried to kill them some months ago - escaped from his bindings? The splintered wood of the bed posts still on the ground. The only conclusion they could make was that Anhar had escaped from his bindings and made another attempt on King's life.

They grab their Master to help him out of the room and lock the door behind them.

The next few days are spent with Dani and Radu taking care of King, making sure he is healthy and mentally okay again. Having recovered from his opium bender and emotional breakdown, he has had a bit more time to reflect. But he has work to do, so he plungez himself back into his work. Still, he thinks about that last interaction he had with Anhar. Was it a dream?

Meanwhile, back with Atumu, it gets worse. For three days, he is left on the ground, arms all but shattered from ripping them off the bedpost. No one came to check on him in those 3 days, so he falls back into the comatose state. It's to preserve the energy he doesn't have. His organs are failing and he needs to go into the comatose state to survive. After 3 days, by King's orders, Radu and Danica put him back into bed, tie him up again, and continue caring for him in the bare minimum way that they had before. More time (weeks? months?) elapse while King is on his work trips. Atumu's condition worsens.

Finally, King returns from his work trip. He can't stop thinking about what happened that day. Was it a dream? He knows he was high, so he can't trust himself. But he needs to find out for himself.

Against Radu's warnings, King goes to seek out Anhar again. The boy is so skeletal. Just a pile of bones, barely visible on the bed, arms strung up again. It's such a sad pathetic sight. He feels so bad, partially responsible for Anhar's sad state. He speaks softly to Anhar, which rouses Atumu. Atumu gasps a breath of life when he comes back into consciousness. He tries to whisper another apology.

King has come prepared this time. Prepared with water and honey for Anhar, and prepared with questions. Mostly, he is mentally prepared. Not sure what the answers will be.

"When we last spoke, you called me a name...what was it?"

"I... apologize if I am not permitted to utter your name, Master--" Atumu quickly whispers. His entire body is in so much pain and he wants only death. He is so so so sorry.

"What was the name you said? I have only told this name to one person."

"Was he not I, Master?" Atumu is beginning to doubt himself. It couldn't be him...could it be him? He's only a slave...maybe he is mistaken. His memory seems to have a lot of holes now anyway...

"What was the name, Anhar?" King insists.

"Master *****..." Atumu whispers almost inaudibly, and winces in fear that speaking this name will call upon an sort of punishment. But no punishment comes.

"Where did you hear of this name?" This time King is calm in hearing his name. He is prepared.

"I...I don't... remember..." Atumu is speaking the truth. He doesn't know. He doesn't remember.

In fact, King had told Atumu his real name after their daughter died. It was a heart wrenchingly tragic moment, and he wanted his most beloved companion to know his true name. So that at least one other being in this world would know him.

"What do you remember?"

Atumu remembers...his head hurting. He remembers waking up, as if from a long sleep. Not knowing what was going on. He remembers the attack -- they were under attack. He remembers feeling a hot knife slash his throat -- but King was hurt too. He remembers trying to save King's life. (He would never have thought it was King who slit his throat. He knows his Master would never hurt him. The only logical conclusion he could come to was that they were both under attack). And then he couldn't remember much else. He remembered the servants, Danica and Radu. They are humans. They are looking out for King. He knows he can trust them to take care of King...if he is no longer needed...

Slowly now, King asks... hesitantly... "What is your name?"

"My name is Atumu, Master..." he speaks slowly and deliberately at first...but then interrupts himself quickly, as he has noticed his Master and Radu and Danica using another name with him. "B-but if you should wish my name to be otherwise, I shall know no other name."

King's eyes widen. If he wasn't wearing a veil over his face, Atumu would see his eyes watering. "Atumu....how can this be? You were dead, Atumu. I killed you."

"I am not, Master. As you can see, I am alive and well." (Well, not "well"). "And I know that is not true, Master. You would never hurt me."

"It was an accident...I killed you... I carried your body....for years... I have lived lifetimes without you. I have lived half a millennia in your absence."

Atumu doesn't know what to say in response. He doesn't know any of this. He doesn't remember. He doesn't remember much of anything. He doesn't know what is true and what was a dream. He has no details of any previous life he had lived. "Well, I am here now, Master...in your service....if you will still have me..."

King chokes out a laugh through his tears. "Oh, Atumu, you really are as wonderful as I remember you to be."

And then they make plans for him to get better, etc, and then fun shit happens, yadda yadda yadda

I said I wouldn't get into the details, but I got all caught up with myself and this is one of the most heart wrenching moments and ahhh

Sorry again for the text dump ahhhhhh good bye

#atumu #Kingtumu #my ocs that no one cares about #shy anon #sorry i get rly carried away #now the story only lives in my head and my memory #so i want to write it down bc it DOESN'T EXIST ANYWHERE ANYMORE #im crey

[soil-just-needs-water-to-be]

Menswear

Chapter 3

Mention of dysphoria and dysfunctional families

The next morning

I woke up to my alarm 7 on the dot, more startled awake then by choice. George was wrapped up in my duvet next to me, like most mornings. His hair strewn across the pillow just like a halo , like the angel he is. From as young as I can remember he’s always had the most angelic face , one I’ve wanted to kiss for the longest time, the feeling only grew stronger the older I got but I just never knew how to talk about it. Like most mornings when I woke first I just watched him sleep, so peacefully. I watched his eyes flicker, the brown in them starting to make an appearance. “You know you can just take a picture right??, it’ll last longer”, he’s a dipshit but he’s my dipshit. He scrubbed his eyes harshly to wake himself up a little then rose slowly to rest against the headboard placing one hand on my forehead probably to check my temperature. “How you feeling today lad?”.

“I feel a little better, I feel a bit stuffy and my throat feels like razors but really everything else is fine, think I just have a cold”, I was a complete mess yesterday and I know it, I feel bad that the lads had to look after me but I just seriously wasn’t feeling it and something about having someone give you all there attention feels nice even when you don’t want it. “Thanks for yesterday by the way” , I’ve always relied on the boys to help me, I depend on them as sad as that may be.

“Don’t mention it , you’d have done the same for any of us”, I would have yes!, anything for them. “Are you sure your feeling alright though , well enough for school, I know what your like”. He’s not wrong I can be a right idiot at school sometimes if I ain’t feeling right. It’s fine though.

“I’m alright yeh, get your arse up we have to get ready, my mum left your stuff in the dryer , you can go get it and I’ll get dressed yeh?” , I hopped out off bed and began to get my uniform out of my wardrobe, I heard George groan and fall back onto the bed. “Bro you gotta get up”, I picked up a hat from the computer chair next to me and flung it in his direction just missing his head and hitting the headboard. “Come on”

“Ughhh….dude five more minutes”, George is quite the challenge to wake up in the morning, once he’s out of bed he’s raring to go and always full of energy but until that point, nope. Where as I can get up but until I’ve had a coffee I’m basically a zombie. “It’s to late I’ve bonded to mattress, I have become one with the bed, there’s no saving me”

“Come on you fuckin flamingo get up”, I took a minute to look through my wardrobe for my blazer upon not finding it I swiftly ran over to George’s side of the bed and jumped on him immediately tickling his chest and any piece of skin available to me “Get up, get up , get up”, his ever present stupid high-pitched laugh soon enveloped my room and hearing it myself made me giggle with him. His laugh is always contagious. He begins thrashing around begging me to stop but I continue my attack. “I’ll stop if you get up ditwit”

“Fine, fine , okay….stop…I can’t breath…I’ll get up”, I rolled off of him in fits of giggles, struggling to breath for myself. “Your actually a fuckin nightmare you know that right, in the best way possible your a dick”, he flung the duvet off of himself which inturn made it drape over me, and as he stood up he pushed me causing me to roll off of the bed. “ hah stuuuuupid”

“Fuck you , you hobgoblin ”, again we were both laughing, the amount of random names I’ve called George over the years is insane and they still get more and more ridiculous.

Finally though he did leave and I began to get myself ready for the day, binder, shirt, trousers and shoes, still not a fuckin clue where any of my blazers are. Or my tie for that matter. Just as I was tying my shoes there was a tiny little knock on my door “Maffew, are you awake”, Shit we probably woke him up we were being kinda loud.

“Yeh I’m awake kiddo come in”, Louis pushed the door open and stuck his little head through the gap in door and slid in, bounding over the the bed. “What’s wrong kiddo?”

“I have a question”

“Ask away young padawan”, he’ll have no idea what padawan means but I jump at every chance to use that sentence .

“Well , you know how Georgie stays here a lot, does he just live wif us now and does that mean he’s like my big brother now too ?” , I sat myself down next to him after I tied my shoes and ruffled his hair as he giggled.

“No no baby, George is just Matty’s best friend and George and his daddy aren’t friends right now so he’s just taking a little break, but if you see him like a big brother that’s okay”

“Why is he not friends wif his daddy , he’s friends wif our daddy and we are friends wif our daddy, people are supposed to love their daddies” , I carefully pulled him into my lap as I chuckled, loving how his brain works and can’t see the bad side of anything.

“Just George’s daddy is a little bit grumpy and gets grumpy at George a lot and it makes George sad so he just wanted a little break for a little while, like you know when you get a little sad and you get big feelings and you don’t know how to handle them, sometimes grown-ups like Matty and George we have even bigger feelings and it’s even harder to handle so sometimes we need a break”, Louis was nodding along with me as I was chatting looking up at me with his big brown eyes, he always seemed like he knew what I was saying and taking in what I said. He then brung his hand up to his chin and scrunched his face up like he was thinking.

“Well if he needs a big hug and someone to make the big feelings better, I can help right?”

“Of course you can kiddo, well done you for using your big brain, now I think it’s breakfast time don’t you?”, he quickly nodded his head and smiled up at me as he slid off of my lap and made his way back outside, I heard him give George a high five down the hallway, Moments after George came back in tying his tie.

“Is that yours or mine, I can’t find mine”, he finished tying it then began brushing his hair while thinking about it.

“Isn’t yours in you bag with your blazer you took em off on the way home on Friday, why you don’t have more than one blazer I’ll never know but I’m pretty sure there both in your bag, also glasses on your face before we leave please”, George is literally a saviour at this point, always keeping an eye on me, keeping me in line, as does Adam, but if I wanna get up to mischief Rosso is the man to call.

“Alright dad” , I looked at him through the mirror and gave him the cheekiest smile I could muster as he rolled his eyes at me, I did however put my glasses on. “Hey George, do you think it would be weird if I wore my packer at school, I wear it sometimes but I’ve got PE today and I don’t know if that’s a smart idea??”

“Dude if it’ll make you feel good, and comfortable, go for it, Ross is in your Gym class right, so that way if anyone says anything gentle giant is there to help”

“Uh-huh. Em alright, I’ll be back in a minute then”, I picked up my small bag the has my STP (a device that helps trans men use the toilet standing up, it can sit in your boxers and it can also help you feel less dysphoria because it creates the illusion that you have a slight bulge where it’s supposed to be, it’s very helpful), and scurry to the bathroom , in the bathroom I fix up my STP , brush my teeth, apply deodorant, I haven’t had a shower in a while my heads just not been in a good place and having to shower , see myself naked really isn’t something I’ve wanted to be faced with right now. Once I’ve checked that everything looks right and I’m happy with it I head back through to my bedroom, George is now laying back on the bed fully dressed and phone in hand.

“All set”, I mumble a quick “yes” and slide back onto the bed next to him.

“Can I ask you something”

“Go ahead man”

“Well uh…. I know you’ve probably noticed ….so I don’t really know why I’m telling you…but I ain’t showered since like Wednesday night and I know that’s rank…..” I watched George place his phone down on the bed as I started talking and he turned his full attention to me

“Cuz you haven’t been feeling all that great right now, right, dysphoria beating your ass??” He interrupted before I could even finish. Not that I minded.

“Yeh , how did you know?”

George paused for a moment to think about what to say, looking at me deeply. “You’ve just got these little tells I guess, like it’s always pretty obvious , well to me at least , when your feeling like that, I’ve been around you often enough to notice them”

“Really??, like what!?”

“It depends where you are” , he slightly shrugged his shoulders and scrubbed a hand over his face then began talking again,” when you’re at school and it comes on you get really irritable but very quiet you know like , everyone irritates you and you get all hopped up and want to fight everyone”, hearing that causes me to giggle a little bit because he’s really not wrong. “But your like also dead quiet when your around us at school or you just don’t go , but when your at home and feel shitty, you tend to kind of just go off the rails a little and not look after yourself, not sleeping a wink , you don’t eat, and just constantly try to keep yourself distracted but stay in bed all day being really clingy with me”

“Oh , I…uh….I didn’t know I was clingy….I’m sorry”, hearing that I get clingy with George without even realising it makes me feel bad because as I’ve said I hate relying on others to feel good.

“Hey lad ….don’t apologise, I’m just glad I can help, come on, your mum made porridge for breakfast, we can have breakfast and get going, where running late”, George got off the bed, the grace of a gazelle and helped me off. “Anyway where were you going with the conversation, I kind of interpreted you?”

I ruffled my hair again as we left my room , closing my door behind me. “Oh uh , nevermind it’s okay it doesn’t matter, it’s not important”, I pray to every god that he doesn’t continue asking but I know he will he always does.

“Come on , it must have been important if you mentioned it , please come on you can tell me” , we both trundled done the stairs heavy footed , like a heard of elephants.

“ um I was , uh , just going to ask if you could like maybe help me , like shower tonight , I’ll close the curtain obviously but just sit in with me and talk to me, keep me distracted”

“If that’s what you need then that’s what I’ll do, that is important Matty , don’t just shrug off your feelings okay , especially if they’re important enough that they’ll affect your mood okay , please don’t.” , I just nodded as we got to the kitchen and sat down next to each other

#matty healy #george daniel #the 1975 #adam hann #ross macdonald

[anauro]

ok hi i’m going to go on a rant ab rugged individualism and cancel culture so if ur a “progressive liberal” or a classical liberal ya might not like it. yeh way that we think ab like cancelling and deplatforming and shit is so tied to individualism and conservative ideas on morality. like people don’t think of it as “for the common good” but more like “this person is bad in their soul so we must not like them” like i personally don’t give a fuck if she who must not be named cares if i’m valid in my identity. what i do care ab is her spreading transphobic and terry rhetoric and ideas to people and making it more normalised. that’s the true utility of cancelling and why it should be used(sometimes).

if a thing that you are consuming is going to have a negative impact on the world criticise the work and criticise the author for their impact, that should be the purpose of “cancellation” not determining if their souls will get into progressive heaven. and like the platform and influence of fic writers is infinitesimal. it’s tiny, i get it for jkr who has a massive following and people hanging on her every word but the worst thing that can happen as a result of a fic writer is individuals feelings uncomfortable, which is their fault if they didn’t read the tags. it’s just a “moral” crusade against the “bad thing” with no purpose. anyway i am sorry ab the long message and the toxicity and i appreciate u and yaz and ollie

Some people just need a hobby and ideally one “with a purpose” cause otherwise they feel too meaningless in their little lives and the best they can do is Harrass people they consider morally wrong.

If you are an angry teenager cause you’ve spent last three years in lockdown and had no outlet for your emotions, consider volunteering at a local charity or signing up to some environmental organisation.

Bullying individuals who have lives, school, work and then create content as a hobby is not the way to go.

#roc answers #toxic fandom

[tobeornottotc]

Hiya! Curious why you don’t like between us? I was so looking forward to it but haven’t been able to get into myself. I watched the first episode and didn’t feel anything so I’ve been watching the rest through gifs to see if it will spark my interest. I won’t go as far as to say I don’t like it, I’m hoping once it finishes I’ll be motivated to watch in its entirety. So far I’m just not connecting to it. Just wondering your thoughts on why you don’t like it?

Hi, Hello

Oh Boy here we go. Okay first of all I don't think I'm the right person to trust with this show. A small backstory on my relationship with this director, I don't like anything he produces, so that includes the famous Until We Meet Again which is loved by most people, and is my most hated BL series, like you however, I did look forward to between us because BounPrem and WinTeam stuck in my heart I liked them, I liked their edits, I even liked analysing the novel premise. Ofcourse I do it has psychology, trauma, depth, characterisation and a love story that is meant to be passionate (put a question on that one), so I thought between us even underneath this director would make sense and I would love it.

However anon, it didn't this director makes me want to fight someone, (I'm a peaceful person but he unleashes a horrible side to me) because I despise his choices, I despise how he directs, how slow it always feel, how I feel like there's no plot even he chooses the best plots to adapt, how grating his characters all of a sudden feel each time they're the main character, how lacklustre his shows feel sometimes even when something exciting is going on he has the power to make me hate my self each time I watch his shit. And honestly it's a me thing because personality wise I like him he's the cousin of my bias and he cares aboout queerness being represented correctly but I can't lie to my self I hate Between Us, I just can't even look at it every time, and it hurts because when it's WinTeam sometimes there's hope, other times I don't know why I'm watching this, the side couples are fuckking irritating, they take up so much screen time for nothing, and that's my taste, I dislike comedy so maybe New isn't for me, all I know is I'm not the person to try and ask this question to because I'm still processing what it is about this directors stuff so everything he's involved in makes me hate my self and wanna stop watching BL, because it's not adding up, and I've seen some reactors be able to equate how I feel see Kent Clark example who kinda makes fun of between us all throughout my school president episode 2 reaction he himself feels the same way I feel, yeh some points makes this show feel good, consent, passionate love, characterisation, some scenes, some even side couple storylines have potential but something isn't clicking it constantly feels like a fuckkking waste of time and honestly it's been 6 episodes and I'm not someone who is a masochist so I won't keep putting my self through extreme pain to get why this show is good and it leaves me feeling very isolated (but again I'm not trustworthy in this situation) like episode 6 where while I got why it should be loved I thought the acting was abysmal, sorry I guess, I thought i'm not connected to these characters even though I should be and I just wanted to turn it off, with any other director and script of the same story Between us will be my favorite so to see another New piece be intensely disliked by me despite me knowing why people like it, is just very sad, I don't want New anywhere near my fave books, companies (DMD, GMMTV should stop giving his shows too), and writers. I don't want him to direct anything I think I can watch because he ruins it for me and this has been happening since Love By chance so yeh No.

Sorry for the very biased and ignorant response but this is my truth, I hate myself for it, I think Between is can be amazing for a lot of people however I really do think it's overhyped because of the looks and somewhat chemistry of the main actors, i think it's efforts to having a deeper insight into characters that make sense is good but the whole execution just falls apart and I don't know how else to explain it, I know I'm a hypocrite because I know there must be some heavy biases here but honestly the fact that New has made me dislike the acting and appearance of my favorite thai bl actor, you know that something is wrong so I won't hide it. Gifs are really pretty, fanmusic videos are the best way to watch between us I know once its over the youtube your story edit of WinTeam i'll watch and i'd like probably because it's not them in the show that's the problem it's New. And I think a lot of people feel it but they can't explain why it feels that way to them even UWMA people had this complaint, people say it should be good because it's an amazing story premise, idea, thought, representation but all they feel is annoyance and a weird dislike for it and some people are doing for the same for this but not majority so even though I hate it doesn;t mean you'll hate it.

Thanks anon

I know I wasn't probably nice, or helpful but this show like takes my excitement and happiness out of me, like UWMA, Remember me, Star in my Mind, Dear Doctor, Love by chance 2, and so many fuckking more directed by New. Alright I'm out. Thanks for the question :)

#bl series #bl drama #thai bl #reviews #asks #asianlgbtqdramas

[simon-x-billy]

Simon x Billy

Year of the OTP: April

April Ch. 4: Are you alive?

April prompt: Seemingly unrequited love

Guest starring, Alfie Jones

AN: Fast-forward two months, and Billy’s still worrying about that American bloke he bundled off back to Brooklyn. Btw, he is also a man whore. No tea no shade, he just loves women (a lot and frequently). This chapter is part of a massive rewrite of Simon x Billy in honor of the Year of the OTP event on ao3. TW: This chapter includes trans themes, which I have hopefully treated with genuine feeling and respect. If you do feel triggered and there is something I can do to be better, please let me know. Gratitude and love.

ao3 Masterlist || tumblr Masterlist || Start || Prev || Next

-----/Billy/-----

I’ve barely made it two months. 

Billy: Are you alive?

Simon: Who is this?

Billy: You know who this is - are you alive?

Simon: Yes

-----/-/-----

Here I am just leavin to fetch Anna Lucia and my text notification sounds out.  Last time I saw this name on my screen, reckon it’d be about a month past.

First dates. That’s a great feelin, isn’t it? You know you’re gonna kiss, but you don’t know when. Your heart’s poundin. And then the cell buzzes. Hope she’s not begging off. Took her ages to even sustain eye contact with me. To be honest, you know you’re bein flirted with when I come at yeh. Not that I’ve been pesterin her. Her eyes just couldn’t bear lookin straight into the sun. Ah, I’m only jokin. 

Right, give m’self one last lookover. “Teeth, check. Hair, check. Cock in, check. Smell good, check. Phone, check. Text check…

Simon: Are you alive?

Billy: What’s up, man? All right? You well?

Time, check. Tick tock tick tock. Come on, man, I can’t be sat here waitin on yeh to decide whether yer textin back. Anna Lucia’s-

Simon: There was an earthquake in Northern Italy

Billy: Yes, that is correct - there was an earthquake in Northern Italy

Simon: You ok?

Billy: Yeah man, did you worry? That’s so sweet

Simon: Shut up

Billy: Then you wouldn’t know whether I survived the earthquake in Northern Italy

Billy: Don’t be losin sleep on my account, man - I’m well to the south

Billy: Big landmass, we’re not fallin into the sea

Billy: That sorta thing only happens in America

I pause, thinkin that he might take the bait, but it’s been a minute without a response and I’ve got a stunner waitin on me. 

Condoms? Definitely. Check.

-----/Simon/-----

Billy: Simon

Simon: What

Billy: …

The little typing-in-progress dots start and stop, and start and stop again.

Billy: Nevermind.

Nevermind. Nevermind? Nevermind?! What the fuck?! You can’t just - grrrrrr. Sometimes I hate that guy. 

Shit. What if something’s wrong. 

What if he’s lost fingers and can’t thumb in a text. Besides “Simon” and “nevermind.” Yeah, no, that’s ludicrous, Lewis. Obviously. Certo.

Two hours later, and I’m still distracted. ‘Nevermind?’ Rude.

Annoying. 

Fucking obnoxious, is what it is. 

I do not need this kind of thing in my life. And I don’t even know the guy. So I delete him from my contacts. 

I already kinda regret it.

Fuck.

——-/-/——-

So yeah. Fuck. I still regret it. 

For a whole week. Shit. 

Did I put it under Terrazze……. Or di Limoni?  Ah, ok. The phone ringing in Italian sounds weird and wrong. Sorta like me in Italian.

“Ciao, Terrazze di Limoni, parlando Rosalina. Come posso aitutarti?”

“Um, si, I’m good, thank you…um, I don’t parlo Italiano.”

“Si, signore. How can I help you?”

“Thanks. I’m looking for Billy Delaney. Or, actually, I just need his phone number. I lost it.” 

Nothing. 

“Billy from the restaurant?” I clarify.

Again, nothing. “Yes?” I ask.

“Yes? Is this a question? I do not understand you, Signore Laywees.”

Ok, redirect. “Do you know his cell phone number? Please?”

“I can not, no.”

“Is there someone who does know his number? Maybe the computer?”

“No. Non signore. I am not permiso. Emmm, how you say, permit to give to you the informazione that is personal to him.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I can understand that. Makes sense. But since I know him?” Please please please.

She is silent, again. Until, “Is this a question? I still do not understand you, Signore Laywees.”

“I’d really like to talk to him. Via text, I mean. Send a text - to him.”

“Sí, signore.”

“Yes? You’ll give it to me?”

“No.” She makes it sound so final and permanent.

“Do you remember that he and I are friends? I stayed in the suite up on the top floor?”

“Si. You are the American on the roof.”

“I what? No, nevermind. He is still at the hotel, though, right?” Maybe I can just ask to speak to the mana-

“No.”

“Wait, what?”

“No. He is no longer at the hotel,” she informs me.

“But he’s still in Sorrento, right?”

“No.” It sounds so final and permanent.

Panic. “But-“

“He is in London,” she adds.

“Wait, what?”

“He is in London.”

“I didn’t know that,” I say quietly to myself.

“Certo.” Obviously? She thinks I’m obvious.

So now it’s even more important that she give me his number. Cuz if I ever need to get in touch with him, they wouldn’t give it to me. Not a chance.

“No.”

Goddammit, Lewis. “Did I say that out loud?”

“It was quiet, Signore.”

“Pardon?”

“Si. I perdonna you.”

Help? Confused. “Please, I need to talk- to text him. Even more now that he isn’t in Italy anymore. If you don’t share his number,” I say, kinda more to myself than to her, “then that’s it.”

“What is it?”

“I mean-” Shit, I suppose that really is it, then. I won’t get to tell him I’m over Voldemort and her nighty. I was kinda looking forward to that. “I guess it’s just that that will be it. In terms of knowing him. Friends. So, yeah. I guess I just won’t know him anymore.” This is the single most embarrassing experience I have ever had. Since my trip to Italy.

“Ah, si. Ssssssi.” She stretches out the last word, so it sounds like she’s mulling something over.

“Signore Laywees,” she says in a muffled whisper. “His numero is-“

——-/-/——-

Simon: Billy

That Irishman: 

——-/-/——-

Rude! 

——-/-/——-

Three days later it’s even ruder. More rude. (I’m allowed to think with bad grammar.)

I shouldn’t have bothered getting the number. That’s an hour of my life I’ll never get back. I mean, how many more days is he… You know what? Fuck it. I don’t even care.

This is me not caring.

At all.

—--/Billy/—--

Fucksake, Simon. I was with a girl. Lucrezia with the long legs, and what, you want me to pull out to answer your text? 

Y’ know what - I’m done with this. He’s alive. That’s fine. All I needed to know.

Deleted.

—--/Simon/—--

Simon: Where are you?

That Irishman: New phone, who dis?

I - wow. That kind of - stung.

Stings. 

—--/-/—--

It’s been a week and it’s still stinging.

Simon: Are you alive?

I couldn’t go a week without texting. What the fuck is wrong with me. 

That Irishman: New phone, who dis?

Ow. 

He ghosted me. Actually, like, in reality, intentionally ghosted me.

Simon: You know who this is.

You know what? I’m done.

I do not need this in my life right now. My book placing Simon out front as main character is due in two months, but Me Simon, the author? I’m still stuck. I still suck. I’ve scrapped everything I’ve written about him.

So of course I start writing an entirely different story. Which then turns into an idea for a Warlock spinoff series for my most flamboyant and interesting character. 

It’s a love story between boys. It’s been building over the course of all three books, and I just can’t shove it out of my head. And the fans want that just as much as they want a Simon book. Easiest way to avoid doing something you need to do? Do something else you need to do. 

Shit. I need to do some research.

That Irishman: Why?

Huh. Interesting point. I-

Simon: I don’t know

—--/Billy/—--

I think we’ve gotten past our - whatever it was a few weeks ago. That was weird. Yeah, weird. We were up each other’s arses about - what? Nothing at all. Immature and grating, and yet, we’re still texting. A little more often now. But usually it’s of the “are you alive?” variety, with single word, single syllable answers from Simon. “Are you over her?” “Yes,” that sort of thing. I can’t tell whether he’s pissed, or just wants to know I’m alive. I thought I was supposed to be knowing that he was alive. 

Billy: Are you alive?

Grumpy: I guess

Billy: Two words! We’re making progress

Grumpy: Shut up

I laugh.

Billy: I’m not talking, I’m texting. If you want me to stfu, just put the phone down

Billy: Try it - now

Billy: See? Silence. Wasn’t that nice?

Grumpy: You really can’t can you

Billy: Can’t what

Grumpy: Shut up

Billy: Jaysus, Simon. Put the phone back down. I don’t need to be hearing you being mean

Grumpy: Funny

Billy: You know man, you’re like the Hemingway of texting

Grumpy: So literary

Well, he’s not biting. Much. Why do I bother? Have a better conversation with the cat. 

Of course my friend Rachel’s a cat person. I like that about her. And her cat.

So I feed the cat. And Rachel, before she’s back to her pub downstairs. I potter about the kitchen, tidying up while I wait to hear back from my best mate, Alfie.

I feel my cell buzz in my back pocket, just as I’m puttin the several thank-you meals I’ve made Rachel into the fridge.

Alfie: We still on mate?

Billy: Do you really have to ask?

Alfie: Yes! 

Alfie: I mean no

Alfie: I mean I know - just looking forward to seeing you mate

Alfie: Worried you wouldn’t want to see everyone - you know what I’m trying to say

Billy: I think what you’re trying to say is you’re leaving the house now

—--/-/—--

Is this… I think this is shot #3. She gave us two, and then… so that’s 4? I think. 

Oooh, my arse is vibrating. But not for the fun reason. 

“Whoa-what Alfie?!” has just grabbed me - bodily - and pulled me up against him. 

“Alfie, I love you, mate. You’re a mostly good friend and I guess you’re kinda cute, but-”

He flips us around, drops his arse onto a bar stool, and makes himself very small.

“Tired, mate?” I’m frowning down at him when Rachel sets up another pair of shots.

“For the birthday boy. Where’d he get off to?” she asks, pretendin to survey the room.

I snort. “Here’s yer man. This tiny human here in front of me who appears to find my Vegas belt buckle fascinating. Alfie, mate, what’re yeh-”

“I’m hiding,” he hisses.

“But why?”  

And of course it’s just as I’m throwin back shot #5 (4?)  when the great eejit grabs me about the waist, yanks me to him, and buries his face in my navel. 

So now I’m chokin on vodka and he’s hissing at me to shut up and stand still. “The fuck? What’re you doin?! Stop it,” I wheeze.

“Shhh!”

Still tryin to see past the blindin fire in my sinuses. “Fucksake, Alfie! You know I just blew a shot of clear alcohol out my nose. And I know you do cos you’ve vodka snot in your hair, and runnin down the side of yer face, mate. What the fuck?”

“I don’t care, shhhh!”

So I stand very still and speak very quietly. “Alfie, mate. Why don’t you care that you’ve vodka snot – my snot – runnin down yer face?”

That’s when he grabs both my arms and slaps them on the bartop, caging himself in. 

This once again catches Rachel’s eye at the other end of the bar. As it should do. And she shoots me a quick look. I answer with a shrug. 

“Do I even want to know?” she asks, headin back our way.

“Would both of you shut up? Hide me!”

Rachel rolls her eyes and leaves me with the child in my arms. 

“I’d say I’m flattered, mate,” I whisper. “But you’re freakin me out now. I’m assumin it’s a girl, yeah? Which one is she?” 

I’m looking into the bar mirror and spot a face from a lifetime ago. 

“Alfie, is that-”

“It’s that fit Thai bird from Bangkok.”

“Alfie, is that Ken?” 

Guest starring, Ken

Alfie buries his face in my navel again.

“Yes?” he says in a guilty squeak. 

“Why is she here?” I ask very slowly, as if I’m speakin to someone not so bright. Because I am speakin to someone not so bright. 

“Erm, well… Because I live here? Probably?”

I need another pint. And vodka’s put me off, as that’s a pain that’s gonna linger in my nasal passages. I signal the lovely Rachel, who nods as she begins to pull me a pint.

“Alfie. Why are yeh hidin? From Ken. Who is now where yeh live. And not in Bangkok.”

“I sort of…”

I give him the ol’ eyebrow encouragement. 

“I’ve kind of been sending her sexy pokes…erm, sexy poking with her.”

“For a year?! Wait, no. How long has it been since Thailand? Have you been sexy poking her all this time?”

“Shhhh!” And back to my navel he goes. “I didn’t invite her! She’s just here! Over there,” he says with a muffled rumble into my belly. 

“I have a feelin that’s just the beginning of a very long, very embarrassing story. Don’t let me stop yeh. But yer steamin up my stomach and my vodka snot has now migrated back to me. On my shirt. And you know how I feel about laundry.”

Sighing and shaking my head. “Mate, stop it. Yer actin like a baby. Face yer fears or face responsibility or buy her a drink. Those are yer options.” 

“How about we buy me a drink instead?” He looks up hopefully, his hands loosening the vice grip he’s got on me.

“And by we, you mean me,” I state the obvious.

“It is my birthday.”

“And we have a history of phenomenally fucked up birthdays here. Are you plannin to make a regular habit of it?”

Rachel places the perfect pint in front of me. I sigh. “Sure’n I suppose you’ll be wantin my pint then.”

He grins sweetly up at me. “Birthday?”

“Thank yeh, Rachel, love. That’ll be one more. But I’ll be takin this one.” 

Alfie whines unintelligibly.

“Alfie!” rings out the voice of a high tenor.  

I move aside like the terrible friend that I am.

“Judas!” Alfie cries.

“Ken!” I cry. 

“Billy. I like seeing you again. I don’t like seeing this one with his face in another man’s chest!”

“Another man’s-”

“Pickles!” Alfie cries.

Guest starring, Pickles

“Lord Jaysus, Pickles!” I cry. I’m over the moon to see our old mate Cheese & Pickles. Another one Alfie made a hash of a start with, leadin him on. But at least in that case, it had been an honest mistake with a cheese and pickle baguette, and quickly sorted. And we made a solid mate out of the mess. I’d hoped I’d get to see him again this year. 

Ken, on the other hand, I never had much interaction with her. Nice girl if memory serves, but she is a bit of a wild card. Certo.

I round on Alfie. “Alfie, why is Ken here? How long has this been going on?”

“Two years!” Ken shouts.

Oh Alfie, you feckin brainless eejit, look at the state of yeh. 

“He said he wanted me. Me. He never said anything about you.”

I watch as Pickles’ jaw drops open at the implication, and his eyes slide from side to side like it’s Wimbledon. 

“I say it again, Billy. He told me he wants me. So I came.” Ken is trying to keep a lid on her emotions, but they’re right there at the surface ridin her.

“Erm,” Alfie begins, looking like things are starting to fall into place in that thick skull of his. 

“What was that? Squeak up,” I press. “Today’d be grand.” 

“Erm, well,” Alfie begins again. “I-” And his face turns cherry red starting from his collar, ending at the very tips of his little mouse ears. “I may have said-”

“I want you so much. You told me over and over. I want you. I want you so much. Come with me. So I came.”

Pickles zips his mouth shut.

Simon would have relished this moment.

“I am beautiful. You told me! How could you be with him? He is not beautiful.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Pickles mutters again. 

“Thanks, mate,” I say. No harm in hearin it, if I’m honest.

“And just where were you when you were telling Ken how much you wanted her? How beautiful she is?” Spit it out, man.

“Erm…” says Alfie, eloquent as ever.

“He was on the computer. Where else would he be? He was not in bed with you!” Ken turns on Alfie. “Were you?”

“Erm…” repeats Alfie. 

“Have you no sense, you great eejit? You’re makin it worse.” All skull, no brain. Don’t know why I bother.

We need to get her calm, get her some privacy in a nice, cozy snug in the corner, sit down and sort this out. This is too personal for the floor of a pub. Not fair to Ken. 

Guest starring, a snug

Looking disgusted with Alfie, Pickles steps in and picks up Ken’s hand. “You deserve better,” he says softly but with honest conviction. Good man. 

Ken’s eyes are welling. “Yes. I do.”

“Oi!” Alfie exclaims in indignation.

I cut him off with an elbow to the ribs and a glare. “Not helping!” I grit out. 

“Oh. Oh!” Alfie takes in a deep breath and gives her a sincere apology. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he says, and once again buries his face in my navel. 

“Alfie!” Ken looks like she’s about to cry quite a lot of tears. “You said-”

And right before my eyes, Pickles’ face goes all soft. I watch it happen right in front of me. That moment you see in films when the boy looks at a duckling like he’s never seen one before, and suddenly she’s the loveliest water fowl he’s ever met. “Ken, is it?” he says softly. “Come sit down. I’ll get you something to drink, and we can figure it out.”

I incline my head toward the snug at the back part of the room. I can see it’s empty.

Ken raises her head high, and pins Alfie with a deadly glare. “You are not worth my tears. Or my frequent flying kilometers.”

Alfie looks ashamed, as he should do, and wisely keeps his fat trap shut. Wise - for Alfie, that is. Pickles leads Ken across the floor as far from Alfie and me as he can be. “Do you have luggage?” I hear him ask as they walk away. Good man. Damn good man.

“You owe Pickles, mate.”

“All my birthday beer is his.”

“That’s right,” I agree. 

“That’s right,” Alfie whispers as he downs his two forgotten shots. “That’s right.”

“Alfie. What’s really goin on here, mate?” I ask him. “You realize you’ll be needin to have an honest talk with Ken, don’t yeh? Pickles may have put the situation on pause for the moment. But she does deserve better, man.”

He looks a bit lost.

“What were yeh thinkin?”

He starts to fidget. “Look, man.” I reassure him. “I’m here for yeh, thick, thin, wide, narrow, tall, short. Female. Male?”

“Or maybe somewhere undefined in-between?” he asks.

“Alfie. I love yeh, mate.” I’m bendin down gettin in his face, bein that the man is avoidin eye contact with his head down. “Nothin else matters, yeh see that, don’t yeh?”

Alfie peeks up and looks at me, barely. He’s unsure and deeply unsettled. Ken, in person, has him rattled — profoundly rattled. And can I blame him? Somethin private – and very likely somethin he thought was just for fun with no consequences – just became public and hit home in a very, very she’s at my home kind of way. So much for no consequences.

“Life is real, Alfie. Life happens. Life has consequences. Life is full of good people, in with the bad. Ken’s one of the good ones, mate. If yeh don’t want anything to do with her-”

“I didn’t say that!” busts out of his mouth, before he can think on it. Which, if I’m honest, describes everything that comes out of Alfie’s mouth. He squeezes his lips together, willing them not to speak.

I let it float for a minute, not wanting to give him any outs, but also not wanting to make him afraid to speak. But I break. “No judgement, mate. Do you want Ken?”

He finally lifts his head, and gives me frightened eyes I’ve never seen him wear. “I don’t know?”

“No reason to panic like this. No need to have it all worked out of a sudden, all at once. But you do need to be honest with her. And you need to walk over to that snug with me, sit yerself down across from Ken, and talk to her. Tonight. Let her know how yer feelin, that you might be conflicted, questioning. She’s got to know what that feels like, mate. Hasn’t she?”

He gives me a one-shoulder shrug, lettin me know he’s heard me.

“Go take a piss, do a shot, smoke somethin, whatever. But you’ve got 5 minutes before you have to act like a grown man. I’ll make your excuses til then. And I’m lettin her know you’ll be joinin us in that snug. No runnin from this, mate. She knows where yeh live. Because I’ll give her the street number and drive her there m’self if ye run.”

—--/-/—--

When I finally arrive back up at Rachel’s flat, I’m drunk enough to bump into every wall between the entry and the stairs, which I manage to fall up, and then “Ow!” as I knock my hip against the railing at the top.

I’m tripping as I try to walk out of my jeans and open the bedroom door at the same time. Seems like something that should be possible, walking out of a pair of jeans. It isn’t.

As I fall on my arse with a loud thud and grunt, my guest for the evenin begins laughin at me. I can’t really blame her. I’m drunk. She’s drunk. Neither one of us remembers each others’ names. Doesn’t matter. Except-

Guest starring, Guest

“Oh, Saints preserve us! Jaysus no!”

“What are you on about?” Somethin-somethin-somethin, “on me.”

I’ve no idea what she’s sayin, and couldna care, because I’ve fallen on my phone. “Mary and the sweet baby Jesus, oh thank you. Ohhhh thank you. Oh lord.”

I caress it lovingly – which is really what I should be doing with the bird crawling across the bed in a relatively alluring way. The screen lights up revealing a text notification, and I vaguely remember it buzzing in my pocket at the start of the night. I’d sort of forgotten it, what with Alfie’s nose in my navel. And my nose shortly due to be well below her navel.

Grumpy: Why

“What? Oh no, not you love. Don’t move a finger. I want yeh just like that.”

Billy: Why what?

He replies almost instantly.

Grumpy: Why are my texts like Hemingway

Billy: Brief.

I turn off my phone, and drop it on the crumpled and growing mass of clothing on the floor. After all, it’s important I focus all my attention on my guest’s needs. And I’ve a feelin she’ll have many.

—--/Simon/—--

Fuuuuuuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Again.

I have no idea how to write the Simon book and it’s seriously sucking my will to live. Which, you know, vampire Simon and all that.

OK, so here’s the thing. I can’t just suddenly claim I’m totally different from the character, when the fans know I’ve based him on me. And they know I’m a nerd. A huge nerd. I can’t turn him into some super, supernatural, sleek, and sexy vampire. Nope. He has to be confused half the time. And show periodic feats of great courage, followed by moping and pining and loyalty. The fans love it. They eat that shit up. On paper – not in my actual life. Me Simon, I mean. Other Simon gets to mope all he wants and they still think he’s worth reading about. Fuck if I know why.

I can’t turn him into an amalgam of like, hipster-bass-player-shoegazer-vampire. We’ve all already read the one about the rockstar vampire.

So what kind of person would Other Simon wish he could be?

Ugh, well, 15 year old Me Simon just wanted to be cool and get the girl. 15 year old Other Simon is… a vampire, and will get the girl. Maybe two. Eventually.

I think he needs confidence. Other Simon, I mean. That’s what being a vampire gives him. That and killer abs. (Vamp abs are killer. I crack myself up. This is me cracking up.)

I think that’s his real growth arc – the confidence, not the abs. Wayyy back at the beginning I started him from a place already lagging behind his peers, saving himself for his crush. So becoming a vampire boosts his confidence immeasurably. That’s why we can more easily believe it when he finally gets the girl. For like five minutes.

I dunno. Now maybe he’ll go be a rockstar at being a super-supernatural superhero, rather than an actual rockstar of music. Nobody cares that I play bass.

You, self in mirror. Nobody cares that you play the bass. Just let it go.

Ok fine, me. You win. As usual. Nobody wants to hear the stats on my vintage Marshall stacks. Or about my priceless Rickenbacker, played by Sir Paul himself. Oh my god, why? Whyyyyyy? This should be exciting to everyone, everywhere.

I wonder if Billy would say I’m whingeing. How do you even spell that. Winging? Winjing? Whinging?

Actually, wait. Billy’s a confident person. He’s gregarious. Everybody fuckin loves that guy. Sometimes I hate him, just to prove to the universe that it is possible. Sometimes he deserves it, too. Wanker. Twat. Neither of those sound good in American.

Maybe Ma’s right and I should get out more.

Nah.

What would I even do? I’m supposed to be writing. I’m supposed to be writing. Writing.

Writing.

Writing.

Writing.

I can’t believe I went to Italy and didn’t take one picture. Not one. I had a couple good conversations. All with an Irishman – no one Italian. That would be stupid, Simon. (Me Simon, not Other Simon.)

Fuuuuuck.

——-/-/——-

Simon: I was in the seat of the Roman Empire, on possibly the sexiest sea in the world, and I didn’t fucking notice

That Irishman: Yeah, I noticed

Simon: Where are you?

That Irishman: Sorrento, dinner rush, can’t talk

Simon: Pick me up tomorrow

That Irishman: Wait what?

That Irishman: ???

That Irishman: Simon

That Irishman: Simon!

#year of the otp 2023 #year of the otp #simon x billy #simon-x-billy #simon lewis #billy delaney #April chapter 4 #are you alive? #robert sheehan character fic #alfie jones #pickles #cheese and pickle baguette #me and mrs jones #bbc me and mrs jones #the mortal instruments #tmi #year of the otp event #event #writing event #tmi fanfic #italy #yotp 2023 #April chapter #chapter 4 #simon is simon #Rosalina #year of the otp April #yotp April #pin #pinned post

[sharpth1ng]

What do the murder bfs do on a bad day? How do they help each other out? I mean, like another person or something that has happened making them have a bad day and separate bad days. I know Stu isn’t the type of person to let shit bother him but c'mon, even he’s gotta have his days and I’m thinking of a more established relationship for this ask.

Wah this was in drafts im sorry!! I will probably continue to forget things in drafts. Anyways:

So I think Billy has a lot of bad days lmao and I think Stu is really good at dealing with them.

So I think he would first try to subtly make sure Billy isn’t grumpy because he hasn’t eaten (Billy is one of those forgot to eat type autistic) which I think just means making a safe food and putting it in Billys vicinity.

Otherwise I think there’s probably a number of things, but a lot of them involve keeping Billy from ruminating, so he’s making a fool of himself trying to get Billy to laugh, probably trying to piss him off just a little in the horny way, like general hijinks because it’s distracting. If it works either gets Billy laughing or focused on making fun of him, which keeps his mind off the bad day.

If it was like a really bad day and Billy has a meltdown I think he’s good at just like remaining present and not freaking out. He also definitely just lets Billy beat him up sometimes. And in a particular mood I think they probably go out and find someone to slaughter.

I think he also just tries to treat him, like find a movie he’s been wanting to watch or buy him a new poster or something, make sure he has snacks Billy likes and shit.

On Stu having a bad day (which yeh ofc he has those sometimes) I think Billy is a little less direct about it. I think he’s not necessarily always great at noticing Stu’s having a bad day, like he just gets hard focused on other stuff so it might take him a minute.

Once he notices though I think he’s also fairly likely to go distraction route, I think he would be teasing, possibly doing stuff he knows will turn Stu on because Stu’s dick is a great way to get him out of his head. I think he’s also fairly likely to just like, bring all of the dogs to Stu, just like here, 5 dogs all at once.

Funny enough on a really bad day I think It might also involve Billy beating Stu up. I actually think Stu might straight up ask Billy to beat him up on a really bad day. This might be the most tender Billy ever gets, when Stu’s like that. It’s after, he’ll really gruffly direct him to a bath and aggressively clean his wounds and Stu will just feel so fucking cared for. Unlike their usual sleeping arrangement Stu is little spoon on those nights.

(also thank you for specifying what point in the relationship you’re talking about, that’s actually helpful!)

#Stu: please beat the shit out of me #Billy: 🥺🖤🥺 #Billy: *beats the shit out of Stu* #Stu: 🥺🖤🥺 #ask

[tiny-tigers]

✨ Awww bless you! I've never had surgery but I'm close to people who have and it is no joke so take as much time as you need resting up! 🙏🏻💖

Noo not negative? Lack of emojis in my messages perhaps 😆😂🙈 just got a lot on my plate rn - all good stuff - but stressful with timings/wanting things to go perfect etc. 😅😬

But yeh possibly the crush dwindling as well? 😬🫨 (will probably always find him interesting) but yeh the crush is not crushing as it once did....👀🙈

So interesting about his dad - I had no idea! Explains a lot, but yeh I can also see him staying at tigers till he retires! Could totally see Fred at Exeter (loves the sea) or even in London tbh? He has mates there and seems to really enjoy visiting?

Think they were in London for Courtney's testimonial last night btw - saw Coley & Chess in a story 🥂

Ahh so his bday is probs the only day of the year Fred actually spends more than 10 mins on social media 🤣🤣 (think his grad is next fri btw) and tigers have next week off too no??

I get loyalty to clubs but also clubs sometimes shit on players (Anthony Watson - Bath) so I think you always have to look out for no. 1 - Fordy's done that well I think, but then he gives 110% wherever he goes and not every player can say that....!

I knooow but I want to do so many things and very much want to improve. I have a first challenge because it is like a drug to me but I did quit coke zero and it sounds ridiculous but it is super difficult ??? It has been 2 week without and it is a nightmare. I only drink water, tea and coffee now. I know I need to eat less also with that surgery so I am doing it. I want all the aspects of my life to change for the best but it is tedious.

Ohhh can you tease us with ONE of your project goal or aim You are working on then ? Give us the goooood news. I sincerly want you to be happy so it is such a good thing to read.

I saw all the career testimonies and imagined myself 60 years old attending it to see Jack end of career ... I Will never stop loving him unfortunately. He is a poppa and momma child ♡

Dobby wants to be free so bad 😭 if only I could be delivered of my crush... Idk how you do as I cannot learn and still put him first on my priorities and before myself which is sad. I can hear the crowd shouting :Get therapy. yeah yeah I know

Didn't saw chess so maybe I am a bad inspector since instagram updated 😶

We have match against stormers and then 2 weeks I believe 🤔 jack is gonna go on holidays with his sponsor team for sure. Idk when but will have zero content 😭.

Oh yeah bath did a lot of Fucking moves to players ... damn .

George is a star and class we know we know

I think tigers messed up during covid with players but now it is all good

One rescued pic of your boyo