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#just sick. sick n tired

jay-wasreblogging · 1 month

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Okay but the way Sherlock kept reassuring Mariana that she doesn't need to do anything she's not comfortable with?? That he would do it instead so she wouldn't have to?? Like? EXCUSE ME SIRRR?? 😭

I hear the talk about Mariana and John this, Mariana and John that - but let's talk about Sherlock and Mariana!!

This case had Sherlock encouraging Mariana to speak up and NO don't say you shouldn't talk when you got smt to say to the team! Your input is just as valuable and needs to be heard!! You're a part of this team and this is a team effort!

And when they were about to find the bodies, the way he talked her through an extremely traumatic situation? 😭 That shit got me fr like yes what you're thinking is horrible but whether you like it or not it is true and we cannot change this to suit the reality we want, we can only accept it and continue from there - and he was kind!! He didn't look down on her or mock her for wanting to not believe what was true, because it was traumatic and something she wasn't accustomed to.

HOWEVER what I really loved was that she didn't need to do smt she didn't want!! Im so glad it didn't take the 'but you have to do this' bullshit route that many stories do because it's okay not to, it's okay to know your limits and stay in it, it's okay to not want to do something you don't want to!! There's nothing you have to prove because you shouldn't have to!!

This podcast mannn.

#an adaptation where ppl are HEARDDD #sherlock and marianas relationship hits deep in this case and i love it!#im sick n tired of 'weak' character needs to do smt traumatic to prove smt and build 'character' like no! characters don't have to do smt #they dont want or go through trauma to be strong!! or to grow in character!! let ppl be weak! let ppl be comfortable staying in their zone!#let people be happy with where they are and not pushing ppl to do things that you believe is best for them when its just you projecting!!!#it got a bit personal for me but i just love that ANOTHER character said 'nah i can do it - u dont have to' !! 😭#the way they all understand each other and try their best is so endearing #sherlock & co #sherlock and co #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #goalhanger podcasts #mariana ametxazurra

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arttrampbelle · 1 year

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Why ship canon x canon when you can just ship yourself with canon character?

It's 2023 get over yourself. Self ship. You self ship with that character rn!

Make an oc. Make a self insert. Make yourself love that blorbo. Ffs!

Fuck what people think. Stop being a bitch and do it! You go fucking love that character!!!

I am being aggressively self ship positive.

If anyone gives you flack for self shipping. I will find them and throw hands!

Like srsly cringe culture is dead. It's time to be clown!

#self shipping #self ship #fr tho im tired of people being weird with self shipping just do it already #im sick of canon x canon ships when the op could have just made a self insert oc or self shipped the character with themselves #like holy shit cringe culture is dead as a doornail and y'all still worried about what some rando online thinks of you #like get out there and love your faves!#go out here n love yourselves too #plz #self shipping positivity #aggressively positive posting

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celestie0 · 2 months

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i rebuke any characterization gege has created of gojo from his death onwards. it is characterization born purely out of hatred and jealousy, due to gojo’s insane amt of bitches counterintuitive to gege’s extreme lack of bitches. i also make the executive decision to frame gojo’s true n just identity frozen in time so we may preserve his good memory prior to gege’s vandalization of his personality. amen.

#sick n tired of gege fr #like leave my man ALONE #gege’s pen is no longer canon to me #i just cannot #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #manga

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astrobei · 1 year

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Something’s wrong.

It’s a quiet afternoon in Will’s room. Mike is here, and this simple fact should be taking precedence over all else. It would be, on any other day — a day where it wasn’t off-puttingly quiet outside. On any other day, it would be all he could focus on.

Not that it’s not important. Mike is here, sprawled haphazardly across him, limbs akimbo like he couldn’t even be bothered to right himself before the need to bodily press every square inch of himself up against Will’s torso suddenly overtook him. It’s endearing, is what it is, even though Mike’s feet are dangling off the side of Will’s bed — they’re getting too tall to be able to lie down like this, side by side and taking up all the room they could possibly want. He’s got his cheek pressed up against Will’s sternum, arms wrapped so tight around Will’s stomach and lower back that it’s bordering on uncomfortable.

Endearing. It’s endearing, the need for proximity. The need for closeness, for touch, for reassurance. Mike wasn’t like this before. Not to this degree, at least. Will pretended to be annoyed by it at first, but the façade hadn’t even lasted a day before he cracked. He needs it too, and they both know it — the rhythmic push and pull of Mike’s breathing. Feeling Mike’s heart beat steadily against his own, separated by a meager few inches of blood and muscle and bone. The kinesthetic weight of a body against his own, grounding him on his off days — days where his pulse is perpetually panicked and off-kilter, threatening to fly away entirely, rendered unsuccessful only by the shape of Mike’s shoulder blades under his palm. The cotton of his flannel button-down, worn soft with use.

Grounding things. Real things. Safe things.

It’s a quiet afternoon. Mike’s foot twitches, suddenly and gently against where it’s pressed up against the line of Will’s calf.

It’s a quiet afternoon, and Will feels off, down to his bones.

Mike might be falling asleep.

Will smiles, hides it in the soft curtain of Mike’s hair where it’s brushing over his neck. Cups a hand around the back of his head and wraps his other arm around his shoulder — tighter, tighter, like Mike might just get up and walk away if he doesn’t. For all his pretending, Will is like this too, now: desperate, a little needy, selfish in small, ordinary ways. Too quick to worry when a call goes unanswered. Too quick to fuss over cuts and scrapes and bruises. He hugs too tight and he kisses too hard and he gets unsettled by quiet, calm afternoons.

He wasn’t ever like that before.

Mike twitches again — so delicately that it’s almost like an afterthought — then his arms tighten around Will’s midriff.

That feels intentional. Even if it hadn’t been. Things with Mike feel intentional. Purposeful.

Even if he is — you know. Asleep, a little.

Will’s room is comfortably warm; the late summer sun has been hiding lately, and the sky isn’t blue, exactly but at least it’s not red anymore — dark and rolling and angry. It’s still, and it’s quiet, and it’s peaceful for the first time in a long time — a long time—

—and still, something’s wrong.

“Will?”

Mike shifts, just slightly, just enough to lean his head against Will’s collarbone and look up at him. He catches the edge of Mike’s expression like it’s a secret, a glimpse of wide eyes, a little confused.

Will peers down at him. “Go back to sleep.”

“I wasn’t,” Mike says, even as he blinks heavily. He rolls out his ankle, bumps it against Will’s and keeps it there, stretches long and languid, lazy, like he has all the time in the world. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Will says. If Mike stays like this, if he doesn’t look up any farther, maybe he can get away with it.

Mike doesn’t sound convinced. “You sure?” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes with one hand and pushing himself up, just enough to be able to look at Will better. “You seemed…”

He trails off. Will tucks a stray strand of hair back behind Mike’s ear, from where it had been falling loose and down into his eyes. “I’m sure,” he murmurs. “Go back to sleep.”

“I wasn’t asleep!”

“You were,” Will laughs. “You were twitching. Like a cat.”

“I don’t twitch,” Mike insists, then pauses. “Do I?”

“Sometimes,” Will admits, then presses a kiss to the top of Mike’s head. “When you’re really tired. I think it’s cute.”

“Stop,” Mike mumbles, but he lowers his head back to Will’s chest. “So mean to me.”

“I called you cute!”

“Mean,” Mike says, sounding like he’s halfway back to sleep already as he snakes an arm back around Will’s chest, hand resting lightly on the side of his throat, just over his jaw. He tangles their legs together, the sheets going wrinkled and bunched up under them. “So mean.”

Will smiles. “Sorry,” he whispers. He glances down at the mess of black hair in front of his face, runs a careful hand through it. Again, and again, and again. Mike makes a small noise, content and pleased, and presses in closer, like he’s trying to vanquish whatever minute semblance of space might have been left between them. “I won’t be mean again.”

It’s a joke, obviously. Still, Will traces apologetic circles into Mike’s back, into the gentle dip between his shoulders. He maps out the planes there, tries to commit them to memory by touch alone, the way he can feel Mike breathe in — slow, hesitant — and then out again — faster, like he’s collapsing back into Will’s body.

The circles give way to shapes, any that Will can think of. Then lines, curved and looping around his shoulder blades, his upper arms. He trails fingers up the back of Mike’s neck, where the cotton of his shirt gives way to a more organic warmth, and scrapes his fingernails lightly against the skin there. Drops another delicate kiss to the sliver of Mike’s forehead where his hair is parted as it falls around his face.

Mike lets out another pleased noise, half-coherent and probably involuntary, and his hand twitches lightly on Will’s jaw. Will bites back a smile, and stares straight up at the ceiling.

Will was never good at this before either — taking the things he wants. Letting himself have things he wants. Something is turning over in his gut, warm and viscous and slow, with each moment of touch he lets himself have, in this newfound, selfish way — through Mike’s hair, down his arms and back up again. Over his back, his shoulders, trailing fingers up his cheeks. He rubs circles into Mike’s temples, watches his brows unfurrow — for once in his life — and his expression go slack with contentment. He wants to touch the corners of Mike’s mouth too, where they’ve turned downwards, vulnerable, half-pressed into Will’s shirt.

He does. He can.

It’s a novel thing, for him, having someone be this close. Having someone be this close just because they want to be, because they trust you.

Will doesn’t know what to make of that. He’s never felt this before, the urge to hold someone so close that all the bad things go away. The urge to touch, the urge to lie here until entropy takes them.

There are no bad things anymore, though. It’s a quiet afternoon, and it’s calm, and it’s peaceful, and—

Will stops.

His hand stills on Mike’s back.

Oh, he thinks, still looking up at the ceiling. Oh.

“Will?” Mike stirs again, and he’d definitely been right on the precipice of sleep this time, judging by the way his voice is dragging on the single syllable. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Will whispers, a little incredulously, as realization dawns upon him. He wants to laugh. He wants to cry too, a little bit. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m great.”

Mike taps a slow finger against Will’s cheek and peers carefully up at him. “What is it?

“I,” Will starts, then stops. He’ll sound ridiculous if he says it. Ridiculous and pathetic and— “Nothing,” he says anyway, despite every molecule of better judgment in his body. “I’m just— I’m happy.”

Mike pauses. “Oh,” he says simply, cheek still pressed to Will’s chest. He sounds a little caught off-guard, in a good way. “I— that’s good. That you’re happy.”

The weird feeling in Will’s gut bubbles up, up, and over. “Yeah,” he says quietly, trying to keep his voice even. “I am. You make me happy.”

At this, Mike looks up. His expression is a bit startled, like a deer in headlights. “What?”

Oh, god. Will swallows. He looks back up. “I just,” he says, “I’ve never— I’m happy. And I don’t know when— I don’t know if I’ve ever. Been this happy before, I mean. Before everything. Before—”

You, he thinks. He doesn’t say it, but it goes implied.

Mike is silent.

The weird feeling starts settling back into Will’s stomach, slow and steady like molasses. Shit. That was, objectively, probably a weird thing to say. It was, right?

Oh, god.

Will blinks, once, twice, thrice in quick succession, and keeps his stare fixed on the ceiling.

“Will,” Mike says at last, from somewhere below him. He lifts his head off of Will’s chest, tufts of black hair swimming into view. “Can you— can you look at me, please?”

Oh, god.

Will looks down. “Yeah?”

Mike looks— wondrous, maybe, which is a bit dramatic, but it’s true. “Really?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound freaked out or anything, which is a good sign, but— “I do?”

“Yeah,” Will whispers. “You do. Like, really happy.”

Happy seems a bit diminutive, if Will’s being honest. Whatever this feeling is runs much deeper than that — past contentment and comfort and satisfaction. Ease, maybe. Safety would be closer.

He doesn’t say any of that.

Mike’s cheeks flush a brilliant pink. He splays his palm across Will’s cheek and asks, in mild disbelief, “Is that what was bothering you?”

“It wasn’t bothering me,” Will says quietly, tugging at Mike’s wrist and sitting up, just slightly, leaning back against one elbow. “I’m fine.”

“You weren’t,” Mike says simply, and lets himself be moved. “I could tell. I just— I thought it was something, you know. Worse.”

“What?” Will laughs, and Mike’s expression softens in relief. “Like what?”

“I don’t know!” Mike exclaims, but he’s smiling too. “I just— I could tell, and I didn’t— I don’t know. Never mind.”

Will pushes a strand of hair behind Mike’s ear again, the same one that had been falling back out the entire time they’d been lying together. “I’m sorry if you worried,” he says quietly. “I just— I didn’t know what it was. I’ve never been this happy before.”

“Will,” Mike starts, expression earnest and searching. He opens his mouth and closes it again.

“Sorry,” Will adds, for good measure. Maybe Mike is, like, totally freaked out. “No pressure, or anything.”

“Don’t apologize,” Mike says immediately, frowning. “Never apologize. I just— I’m happy too. You make me happy. Really happy.”

“Well that’s good,” Will jokes, but it comes out halfhearted. “I should hope I’m not making you sad.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Will.”

“Sorry,” he says on instinct, then immediately bites down on his lower lip. “I mean. Yes. Yeah.”

Mike gives him a look, exasperated and a little fond. “I mean,” he says, then leans forward, all the way back into Will’s space, “you make me happy too. I don’t know when I’ve been— me too, I mean. Me too.”

“Oh,” Will breathes out, in awe, a little bit, of a lot of things — the deepening flush across Mike’s cheek, the ease with which the admission comes tumbling out of his mouth. The simple reciprocity of it bowls him over, like maybe Mike thinks about this, when Will doesn’t know — just how happy Will makes him. “Okay.”

Mike eyes dart between his own. “That all you have to say?” he teases. “Okay?”

“What else do you want me to say?” Will asks, teasing back, a little, but also asking a little truthfully. He’s not the greatest with words, but he’s also not stupid — he understands the implications, here, of what it means to feel so happy around someone that it feels like you’re admitting to something bigger by just saying it. He knows what he’s implying, and he knows Mike is picking up on it, but he doesn’t know how to put that into words — the way his soul feels like it’s stilled inside of him, somewhere, no longer restless or jittery or perpetually keyed up.

He wonders if Mike feels like that too.

The thought, suddenly, is too much.

“Nothing,” Mike says, after a moment. He pauses, then presses a fleeting kiss to Will’s cheek. “Nothing.”

“Mike,” Will says, suddenly, then grabs a hold of Mike’s wrist again. “I— you know that I—”

He feels overwhelmed, a little frantic. He’s sure it’s coming through in his voice. The rest of the sentence hangs there, suspended in midair between the two of them.

Love you, Will thinks. I love you. I love you.

He needs Mike to know.

Mike can’t ever know.

He looks away again, like maybe Mike will be able to tell exactly what he’s thinking just by looking at him.

“Yeah,” Mike is saying. “It’s okay, Will. I know. Me too. Obviously.”

Will relaxes. Thank god for plausible deniability. “Okay,” he says instead, feeling a smile split wide and exhilarated across his face. He feels like he just ran a marathon, and it isn’t until he lies back down that he feels it. The adrenaline, sweet and thick and palpable in his veins. “Okay. Cool.”

“Cool,” Mike echoes, then settles back down on top of him. “Yeah. Cool.”

Will tucks his chin over the top of Mike’s head, running a soothing hand over Mike’s hair. His heart is beating so fast that he’s sure Mike is able to tell. “Go back to sleep,” he says quietly. Mike lets out a noise that might be a laugh, and tucks his face into Will’s neck.

It’s a quiet afternoon. Everything feels perfectly right.

#i don’t know what this is #i’ve just had a Week #and i am so tired and my head hurts and i think i’m falling sick again and basically i need someone to lie on top of me and crush me #w their body weight like a weighted blanket #bc my weighted blanket is not cutting it rn i need More #anyways. i hope u enjoy this stream of consciousness #i am so touch starved and i’m being so fr someone better do something about that bc #my ex is coming back to town in 3 weeks and if i don’t get a hug before then i will literally text him #jk i won’t but. u know #LOL #n e ways #will byers #mike wheeler #byler #fun sized fics #fic #etc #ok back to studying Bye

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sadlazzle · 11 months

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im gonna say it. mattel is realeasing way too many versions of the main 5 ghouls, especially based on the leaked lineup for 2024. give us more characters. spectra, twyla, abbey, howleen - two of those ghouls hav been introduced in the show and there is absolutely no news of them getting dolls anytime soon …. whereas the main 5 already have at least 2 dolls each like .. can we be a bit more ~diverse~ with our releases please

#like ss1 and 2 is just main ghouls. we won’t see a different ghoul in an ss series until neon frights #like dude. really ?? really.#and im getting really sick n tired of dolls being exclusive to american stores that don’t exist over here or in other parts of Europe #the amount of money im gonna hav to spend on toralei and ghoulia … man #monster high #plum.txt

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bookishtheaterlover7 · 2 months

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Went over to blea74s page and she did bad mouth you with capt about being awful kids //

Anon you are an awful kid! I didn’t see them saying about Books blog.

Thanks, N🫶nnie. For clarifying.

But again, so tired of all this back and forth. And I can't bring myself to care about what she and others did or didn't say.

Damned if I do, damned if I don't... Just wish it didn't come with drama...

#An🫶n asks #An🫶n to An🫶n #booky reacts #booky answers #chris evans #chris evans fandom #Team Chris #special shout-out to the very first Anon to call me a racist which lead me to where I am today #a messy Fandom that's a shell of what it once was...#don't even know if I should post fics anymore if people are gonna say that “I'm obsessed and need mental help” because I write fics #scenarios that live in my head #I'm just sick and tired of all the drama #something that comes with being a part of this Fandom #man I need to rejoin the more obscure Fandoms again 😅#at least they aren't toxic

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killa-trav · 1 year

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mick haters are all the same being all oh he’s a nepo baby, he’s rich, he crashes BUT all f1 drivers are rich and crash BUT not all of them are an f3 and f2 champ are they??? so mick is the best and like he’s never done a thing wrong in his life xxxx

#no cos i’m sick n tired of the mick slander #bc like its not even funny at this point #like stop recycling the same thing over n over again #come up w sommet new #and half the time like it’s not even slander #like it’s just dicks being dicks #i beg if ur going to slander mick at least make it funny #youse are boring mfers

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bunnybisexual · 8 months

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I’m gonna set something on fire

#I’m still sick n super lightheaded n tired n I just wanna be back to normal please !!!!!!!!#🤍

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bylertruther · 2 years

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me when 5x01 Chapter One: The Crawl comes on and the party has to gear up if they want to survive and mike grabs a melee weapon and wields it like the cringefail glorious paladin he is and will grabs a gun at some point with the world's shakiest hands bc he is NOT going down without firing at least one fireball n taking something else down with him and he's also not going to sit back and watch anyone he loves get ripped to shreds as henry laughs in his head and at some point in this dungeon crawl will has to take his flannel off and wrap it around mike's arm bc he got hurt and mike has to act like he's feeling faint bc of his injury and not because Oh God Oh Fuck Why Are You So Hot And Nice Literally What The Fuck This Is NOT The Time For Mixed Signals and hopper, nancy, and el are in front n mike, will, and argyle are sandwiched between them n jonathan and joyce, and everyone looks frantic and frazzled, covered in sweat and blood and grime, and at some point someone is trying to radio another party member and they keep repeating themselves but it just Isn't Fucking Working so will grabs the radio bc the ruckus is driving him crazy n ~"sOmEhOw"~ he manages to reach them but oooooh what do you know the radio sparks n burns his hand which immediately makes joyce go 🔍🤨 hold up while someone else is like Thank Fuck it worked you got the magic touch dude but now there's screeching somewhere in the distance outside wherever it is they are and there isn't any time to wonder How The Fuck will just did that actually now that they start to think aboutt it bc the jolt of energy gave their position away and mike is staring at will just like the sauna scene and will is staring right back with a hand on his neck and he just says "mike..." in that small voice of his which snaps mike out of it just in time to scream GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR before some monster barrels through it and—