#FUCK!! I HATE LIVING HERE!! WE'RE NOT TELLING THEM RIGHT NOW SO STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!!

[infiniteglitterfall]

Me, looking through books on Palestine: "Ilan Pappé wrote one called 'The Biggest Prison On Earth?!' People in Gaza hate it being called a prison. There's an entire hashtag for it. There's been an account dedicated to collecting pics and videos of #TheGazaYouDontSee for 6 years.

"Is Pappé even Palestinian? oh god wait I can tell already. this is gonna be an 'Israeli apologist' isn't it." Internet: "Yeah, Pappé's Israeli."

Me: "For fuck's--- so people will believe Israelis unquestioningly if they're shit-talking Israel, but in all other situations, Israelis are all liars?"

Internet: "Pretty much. Also, at best, Ilan Pappé must be one of the world’s sloppiest historians."

Me, admittedly in full schadenfreude now: "What?!?!"

Internet: "Benny Morris. That historian who's extremely hard-core about primary source documentation, who wrote that detailed book about how and why each group of Palestinian refugees left in 1947-9. He reviewed three books about Palestine."

Me: "Holy shit. And the book by Pappé is about the Husaynis. The family that Nazi war criminal Amin al-Husseini came from, the guy who fucked absolutely everything up for both Israel and Palestine."

Internet: "That's the one. Morris wrote, 'At best, Ilan Pappe must be one of the world’s sloppiest historians; at worst, one of the most dishonest. In truth, he probably merits a place somewhere between the two.'"

Me: "Why??"

Internet: "He says, 'Here is a clear and typical example—in detail, which is where the devil resides—of Pappe’s handiwork. I take this example from The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine'....

"Blah blah blah, basically in 1947 the UN voted to partition the land into Palestine and Israel, and extremist militias started shooting at Jewish towns and people. David Ben-Gurion was the leader of the Jewish community there, and his journal describes a visit from a scientist named Aharon Katzir, telling him about an experiment codenamed "Shimshon." Morris gives us the journal entry:

...An experiment was conducted on animals. The researchers were clothed in gas masks and suit. The suit costs 20 grush, the mask about 20 grush (all must be bought immediately). The operation [or experiment] went well. No animal died, the [animals] remained dazzled [as when a car’s headlights dazzle an oncoming driver] for 24 hours. There are some 50 kilos [of the gas]. [They] were moved to Tel Aviv. The [production] equipment is being moved here. On the laboratory level, some 20 kilos can be produced per day.

"Morris says, 'This is the only accessible source that exists, to the best of my knowledge, about the meeting and the gas experiment, and it is the sole source cited by Pappe for his description of the meeting and the "Shimshon" project. But this is how Pappe gives the passage in English:

Katzir reported to Ben-Gurion: 'We are experimenting with animals. Our researchers were wearing gas masks and adequate outfit. Good results. The animals did not die (they were just blinded). We can produce 20 kilos a day of this stuff.'

"'The translation is flecked with inaccuracies, but the outrage is in Pappe’s perversion of "dazzled," or sunveru, to "blinded"—in Hebrew "blinded" would be uvru, the verb not used by Ben-Gurion—coupled with the willful omission of the qualifier '"for 24 hours."'

"'Pappe’s version of this text is driven by something other than linguistic and historiographical accuracy. Published in English for the English-speaking world, where animal-lovers are legion and deliberately blinding animals would be regarded as a barbaric act, the passage, as published by Pappe, cannot fail to provoke a strong aversion to Ben-Gurion and to Israel.

"'Such distortions, large and small, characterize almost every page of The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine. So I should add, to make the historical context perfectly clear, that no gas was ever used in the war of 1948 by any of the participants. [Or, he later notes, by either Israel or Palestine ever.] Pappe never tells the reader this.

"'Raising the subject of gas is historical irrelevance. But the paragraph will dangle in the reader’s imagination as a dark possibility, or worse, a dark reality: the Jews, gassed by the Nazis three years before, were about to gas, or were gassing, Arabs.'"

Me: "Uuuuggghhhhhhhhh. Yeah, it will."

Internet: "He does say, 'Palestinian Dynasty was a good idea.' Then he does some really detailed historian-dragging about the lack of primary sources and reliance on people's interpretations of what they say instead.

"'Almost all of Pappe’s references direct the reader to books and articles in English, Hebrew, and Arabic by other scholars, or to the memoirs of various Arab politicians, which are not the most reliable of sources. Occasionally there is a reference to an Arab or Western travelogue or genealogy, or to a diplomat’s memoir; but there is barely an allusion to documents in the relevant British, American, and Zionist/Israeli archives.

"'When referring to the content of American consular reports about Arab riots in the 1920s, for example, Pappe invariably directs the reader to an article in Hebrew by Gideon Biger—“The American Consulate in Jerusalem and the Events of 1920-1921,” in Cathedra, September 1988—and not to the documents themselves, which are easily accessible in the United States National Archive.

"'Those who falsify history routinely take the path of omission. They ignore crucial facts and important pieces of evidence while cherry-picking from the documentation to prove a case. 

"'Those who falsify history routinely take the path of omission. They ignore crucial facts and important pieces of evidence while cherry-picking from the documentation to prove a case. 

"'But Pappe is more brazen. He, too, often omits and ignores significant evidence, and he, too, alleges that a source tells us the opposite of what it in fact says, but he will also simply and straightforwardly falsify evidence.

"'Consider his handling of the Arab anti-Jewish riots of the 1920s.

"'Pappe writes of the “Nabi Musa” riots in April 1920: “The [British] Palin Commission... reported that the Jewish presence in the country was provoking the Arab population and was the cause of the riots.” He also quotes at length Musa Kazim al-Husayni, the clan’s leading notable at the time, to the effect that “it was not the [Arab] Hebronites who had started the riots but the Jews.”

"'But the (never published) [Palin Commission Report], while forthrightly anti-Zionist, thereby accurately reflecting the prevailing views in the British military government that ruled Palestine until mid-1920, flatly and strikingly charged the Arabs with responsibility for the bloodshed.

"'The team chaired by Major-General P.C. Palin wrote that “it is perfectly clear that with... few exceptions the Jews were the sufferers, and were, moreover, the victims of a peculiarly brutal and cowardly attack, the majority of the casualties being old men, women and children.” The inquiry pointed out that whereas 216 Jews were killed or injured, the British security forces and the Jews, in defending themselves or in retaliatory attacks, caused only twenty-five Arab casualties.'"

Me: "Yeah. I'm looking at that report right now and it says there had been an explosion, and then people were looting Jewish stores and beating Jews with stones, and in one case stabbing someone. Some people said that some Jews got up on the roof of a hotel and retaliated by throwing stones themselves.

"And then it literally says, 'The point as to the retaliation by Jews is of importance because it seems to have impressed the Military and led them to imagine that the Jews were to some extent responsible for provoking the rising.' That's the only thing it really says about anyone blaming the Jews.

"Except.... the very beginning gives some historical context. And it does say that when the Balfour Declaration came out, Muslims and Christians 'considered that they were to be handed over to an oppression which they hated far more than the Turk's and were aghast at the thought of this domination....

"'If this intensity of feeling proceeded merely from wounded pride of race and disappointment in political aspirations, it would be easier to criticise and rebuke: but it must be borne in mind that at the bottom of all is a deepseated fear of the Jew, both as a possible ruler and as an economic competitor. Rightly or wrongly they fear the Jew as a ruler, regarding his race as one of the most intolerant known to history....

"'The prospect of extensive Jewish immigration fills him with a panic fear, which may be exaggerated, but is none the less genuine. He sees the ablest race intellectually in the world, past-masters in all the arts of ousting competitors whether on the market, in the farm or the bureaucratic offices, backed by apparently inexhaustible funds given by their compatriots in all lands and possessed of powerful influence in the councils of the nations, prepared to enter the lists against him in every one of his normal occupations, backed by the one thing wanted to make them irresistible, the physical force of a great Imperial Power, and he feels himself overmastered and defeated before the contest is begun.'

"Wow! What a great fucking example of how 'positive' stereotypes are actually used to fuck people over! We're not antisemitic, we actually think Jews are the smartest, most powerful, richest group with tremendous global power! So positive!! Not at all being used here to justify antisemitic violence!

"Also, immigration from all over the world actually meant that different agricultural and manufacturing techniques were brought into the region, and yes, financial investments to start businesses sometimes, which meant that Arab Palestinians there had the highest per capita income in the Middle East, the highest daily wages, and started a lot of businesses of their own. But go off, I guess."

"Anyfuckingway.... it basically says that the Muslims and Christians were angry and scared, the Jews were too quick to set up the functioning government that the Brits were supposed to be there to help both sides create -- and which the Arab leaders completely refused to create for Palestine, because (1) fascists and (2) didn't want Jews nearby -- and that they were "ready prey for any form of agitation hostile to the British Government and the Jews." Then it says the movement for a United Syria was agitating them real hard, and so were the Sherifians.

"Is that what Ilan Passe, I mean Pappe, meant by the Palin Report blaming the Jews?! That when it says it's understandable the Arabs were freaking out, because antisemitism, Pappe thinks it's saying the Jews were provoking them?!"

Internet: "I don't know. I kinda tuned out after the first hour you were talking."

Me: "OGH MY GOD"

Internet: "So anyway, then Morris ALSO says, 'About the 1929 “Temple Mount” riots, which included two large-scale massacres of Jews, in Hebron and in Safed, Pappe writes: “The opposite camp, Zionist and British, was no less ruthless [than the Arabs]. In Jaffa a Jewish mob murdered seven Palestinians.”

Me: "What the ENTIRE FUCK? There was no united 'Zionist and British' camp! The Brits would barely let any Holocaust refugees in, ffs!"

Internet: "Morris says, 'Actually, there were no massacres of Arabs by Jews, though a number of Arabs were killed when Jews defended themselves or retaliated after Arab violence.

"'Pappe adds that the British “Shaw Commission,” so-called because it was chaired by Sir Walter Shaw (a former chief justice of the Straits Settlements), which investigated the riots, “upheld the basic Arab claim that Jewish provocations had caused the violent outbreak. ‘The principal cause... was twelve years of pro-Zionist [British] policy.’”

"'It is unclear what Pappe is quoting from. I did not find this sentence in the commission’s report. Pappe’s bibliography refers, under “Primary Sources,” simply to “The Shaw Commission.” The report? The deliberations? Memoranda by or about? Who can tell?

"'The footnote attached to the quote, presumably to give its source, says, simply, “Ibid.”

"'The one before it says, “Ibid., p. 103.”

"'The one before that says, “The Shaw Commission, session 46, p. 92.”

"'But the quoted passage does not appear on page 103 of the report.

"In the text of Palestinian Dynasty, Pappe states that “Shaw wrote [this] after leaving the country [Palestine].” But if it is not in the report, where did Shaw “write” it?'"

Me: "I'M ON IT. [rapid-fire googling] OMG. This is.... Not the first time. In 'The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine,' he reported that in a 1937 letter to his son, David Ben-Gurion declared: 'The Arabs will have to go, but one needs an opportune moment for making it happen, such as war.'

"It's not in the source he gave. It's not in any of the three different sources he's given for it.

"He apparently has never responded to any requests for an explanation, either from the journal he published in, or from other historians. But it says he did "obliquely [acknowledge] the controversy in an article in Electronic Intifada, in which he portrayed himself as the victim of intimidation at the hands of “Zionist hooligans.”'

"This is absolutely fucking wild. THEN it says the chair of the Ethics Committee where he was teaching eventually said that the second part of the quote ('but one needs,' etc) was a (combined?) paraphrase of a diary entry and a speech Ben-Gurion gave, and that the first half is 'based on' a letter to his son.

"And it's so convincing! The chair says, 'Shabtai Teveth[,] Ben Gurion’s biographer, Benny Morris and the historian Nur Maslaha have all quoted this letter. In fact their translation was stronger than the quotation from Professor Pappé: ‘We must expel the Arabs and take their place.’ Professor Pappé has documentary evidence of these quotations and the source will ensure that this is correctly cited in any future editions of the publication or related studies.'

"And IT'S NOT EVEN TRUE?!

"Ben-Gurion's actual diary entry (not a letter) says the opposite.

“'We do not want and do not need to expel Arabs and take their places.... All our aspiration is built on the assumption – proven throughout all our activity – that there is enough room in the country for ourselves and the Arabs.'

"Benny Morris misquoted it as "We must expel the Arabs and take their places" in the English version of his 1987 book The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem, although it was correct in the Hebrew version. He corrected himself in the 2001 book Righteous Victims.

"Teveth also misquoted it in the English version of his 1985 book Ben-Gurion and the Palestinian Arabs, but again, had it correct in the Hebrew edition.

"And both Morris and Teveth explicitly point out the rest of the entry. The part about all their aspiration being built on the assumption and experience that there was enough room in the country for everyone.

"Historian Efraim Karsh’s 1997 book Fabricating Israeli History pointed out and corrected their mistakes.

"This is apparently a very well-known issue among historians of Israel and Palestine. It was a big deal in 2003, when an evangelist Christian publisher put out a book FULL of disinformation, which not only used the same quote as Pappe does, but also could not give a real source for it.

"But Pappe STILL USED THE MISQUOTE AND DOUBLED DOWN ON IT EVERY SINGLE TIME."

Internet: "Are you done? I know all this already."

Me: "Also, there are literally only two places where the phrase 'twelve years of pro-Zionist policy' shows up online, and they're both about Pappe making quotes up.

"NOW I'm done."

Benny Morris wasn't, though. The review continues at the link below. And the next part starts, "To the deliberate slanting of history Pappe adds a profound ignorance of basic facts. Together these sins and deficiencies render his “histories” worthless as representations of the past, though they are important as documents in the current political and historiographic disputations about the Arab-Israeli conflict. Pappe’s grasp of the facts of World War I, for example, is weak in the extreme."

[scabbardsystem]

hahaaa our sister says we need to tell the parents about. school. at some point.

[muniimyg]

what happens if I ask for more bbydaddy jk? 🍼🍪

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (3) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request closed

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

one thing that you've always liked about jungkook is that he never got in your way.

from the beginning, he has always been supportive and more than willing to compromise (aka accept the short end of the stick) if it was about your happiness. besides, he has always offered and insisted... and it's not a selfish thing to want more for yourself, right? so, you can't help but take it. you're grateful and beyond relieved that the father of your child is such a loving man. you know it. you believe it.

so, it baffles you he finally does it.

jungkook stands in your way.

"hey! what are you—w-what? jungkook, get up."

but it's too late. jungkook falls to his knees, keeping his chin up. he looks at you, glossy-eyed and utterly heartbroken. he has a bouquet of flowers in one hand while the other is placed on top of his heart.

"i'll be miserable if you do this to me."

"but this isn't about you—"

"make it about me."

a moment passes and his pleading eyes speak beyond his four words. you see it. you see how weak he is and how much of his heart he's laying out for you.

jungkook then takes the silence as a sign to continue his confession. "i'm begging you to fucking choose me right now. please, ___. you can be mad at me forever but d-don't—"

"okay, okay," you yield, bending down and cupping his face with your hands. jungkook can smell the perfume on your wrist and remember how you always wore it on date nights.

he sighs heavily, holding back his tears.

"jungkook, i'm not mad at you. what are you talking about?"

truth be told... he doesn't know either.

all he knows is that he isn't ready for this. he can't live with himself knowing that you chose someone else (you haven't and you didn't). it's a fear that plagues jungkook's mind, body, and soul. it's what drives him crazy and what keeps him sane.

he needs to get you back.

"what's going on, honey? talk to me.." you insist, moving your hands to his hair. you push the strands that cover his eyes away and smile at him gently. "come on, jungkook. it's just me."

"i love you," he says ever so sincerely. "i can't... i d-don't think i'm ready for this."

"for what?"

shrugging, he pushes the flowers in between you two. "you want flowers? you want to go on dates? you want to be loved right? god, ___... i can do it. you know i can—"

"jungkook, i know you can—"

"i can be here seven days a week. i can be more than zion's dad. i love it—i love him, really! but i also love his mom and i'm so fucking tired of acting like the past 8 months of our separation is working for me... because it's not. i miss you all the time and i h-hate... i hate that you're trying to move on."

your eyes widen and your heart breaks.

he's right.

the past 8 months have been such a difficult adjustment. you wish you had more time to confide in him, but you don't. life doesn't stop and it's so draining to wait for people to catch up to you.

"i hate this too," you admit. "a-and if you think i'm trying to move on... you're stupid."

he pouts. "if you're not trying to move on, then why are you going on this date? with nam joon at that... seriously? he's the most boring person in your firm."

you laugh.

"my colleagues said they would stop pushing us to be together if i went out on one date with him. do you know how much time they take away from my cases? all they do is gossip about him and i. you know i hate that—"

jungkook glares at you. "then just tell them we're back together."

"you want me to lie?"

"be honest with me," jungkook tugs you close. "one of us is a liar and it's not me."

you gulp.

"it's not that easy—"

"what do you want, honey?" he asks you. his gaze drops to your lips and then back to your eyes. "i can give it to you."

"jungkook..."

he tightens his lips and places his hand on the back of your neck. gently, he inches you closer to him.

"fuck it. to hell with what you want.”

then, he crashes his lips onto yours.

he kisses you like he's missed you his entire life. he places his hands on your waist as you two make your way inside your apartment. he shuts the door with the back of his foot and guides you to the bedroom you both once shared.

there, he sets you on the bed and begins to undress you. he kisses your waist, easing your mind, and earns pretty moans from you. it boosts his ego. it makes his dick so fucking hard.

god, you fuck him up so bad so fast.

once you’re naked, he takes a second to look at you. he deeply inhales and throws his head back. when he looks at you, you roll your eyes and he winces at you.

“my woman is so beautiful. you are so fucking divine, honey. i’m—goddamn. i’m so favoured.”

you stick your tongue out and toss a pillow at him. he dodges it and laughs.

as you relax, he then begins to strip. you watch, hungrily and more than ready for what's to come next. once he's bare, he towers over you. just as he kisses you and slides his fingers between your wet folds, your phone starts to buzz.

you and jungkook turn your attention to the corner of your nightstand. he groans in annoyance as the buzzing continues. reaching over, he checks the notification.

[5:57pm] 7 missed calls: atty. kim nam joon [now] incoming call: atty. kim nam joon

jungkook hisses.

then, he turns to you and smirks. cheekily, he says; "your vibrator still broken? we can use this instead."

[peachesofteal]

I love me some angst and this baby trapped au is sustaining me!! But I gotta ask… what happens if darling just haves the baby then up and leaves in the middle of night?? Leaving Simon and Johnny to raise this baby they forced on her?? Or even worse (and forgive me for this) she dies in childbirth and then they finally have their baby but no darling…. They’re probably having some regrets about lying to her lol

This au has invaded my life and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m hooked ❤️🪝

SEEK HELP. But don't, because I love you. And this.

Baby trap au / Darling left after discovering her tampered birth control 18+ Mature themes. Character death. Childbirth. Hurt absolutely no comfort.

It starts with the twinge in the lower part of your belly, off to the left side. You had woken up with it, on top of your usual sore back and stiff muscles, the everyday occurrences that seemed plague you consistently since the start of your third trimester. You were always hot, always tired, always crampy, grumpy, and generally... miserable.

You didn't mean to be, but being pregnant was a hardship in so many ways, and being pregnant with no one to help you, was even harder. It took its toll. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. And now, by the ninth month... you were just so ready to be done with it.

You hadn't seen or talked to the guys since the day you walked out, the day you found that fucked up piece of foil, the day you realized what they did, and you left. You hated them for it. Hated them, for taking away your choice. Hated them, for trying to control your body. Hated them, for removing your autonomy.

At night, when you laid down to sleep, it was impossible not to feel other things, the longing, the loneliness, the love, that still lived in your heart for them, against all odds, the ache of missing them growing in your soul as your baby grew each month.

You were in an impossible situation. One you didn't know what do with it.

But today, you were preoccupied with the twinge. The twinge, that had bloomed into a full spasm of muscles across your belly, the twinge that had your boss insisting you go to hospital as soon as possible.

"Let us call an ambulance. I've had four kids! I know labor when I see it." She had hemmed and hawed while you told her it wasn't necessary, that you weren't even in active labor yet, and that you still felt totally okay.

"I'm fine." you had reassured her. "Walking is good for labor right? I'm just going to walk the three blocks and be fine."

Six hours later, you're in a bed with your legs in a pair of stirrups with a nurse by your side, holding your hand as your contractions get closer and closer, your body seizing and cramping with pain through each one, the sting getting worse and worse as the minutes tick on.

You're doing this. You're having a baby. Alone.

The realization shocks you, startles you into a moment of weird, zen like reflection, like everything is moving in slow motion around you, like nothing is progressing as you think about the fact that the guys aren't actually here, that you never did call them, that you never did tell them that you wanted to forgive them one day. That you wanted to talk to them. See them again.

That you wanted them to be here with you, for this, to see the birth of their daughter.

Another contraction rips through you and steals your breath, and you faintly hear the nurse telling you breathe while your body locks up in unmeasurable pain. Something prods between you legs, and then there's a voice saying you're fully dilated, and ready to push.

Ready? Now?

No. No... you can't. It's too fast. They're not here. They need to be here. You have to call them.

"Oh sweetheart, don't cry." The nurse speaks softly to you, but you can't help it. You want them. They were supposed to be here. They were supposed to be ones holding your hand, helping you, cutting the cord.

"We're going to push on the next contraction, okay?" Your doctor tells you, but you shake your head vehemently.

"No. I want my partners." you sob, and your nurse makes a sympathetic noise, while stroking some hair out of your face.

"You have to push." The nurse encourages, and pain streaks across your belly, sharp and insistent, forcing you to gasp for more air. "Ready? Push!" She tries to coach you, but you can't do it, can't even move, your body just writhing through the pain as your head spins and you pant. Your doctor says your name, kindly but somewhat stern after the contraction passes, and you moan.

"This baby is coming. You have to push." She says, and you know she's right, but you just can't get there in your mind, unable to consider the idea of her being born without Johnny or Simon being here.

"I want them." you sob, another spasm ripping through your body, forcing you to curl forward with an anguished shout. The nurse blots a cool, damp cloth against your head, while someone else on your other side adjusts your bed. There are people everywhere, all moving around in flurry, except for the doctor who's settling between your legs, eyes locking onto yours above your mask.

"There's no time dear." She says, and when you look up into your nurse's face, she seems sincere, encouraging and sweet, but you don't care. You want Johnny. You want Simon.

"P-please." You moan. "My phone- the passcode is 6669." The numbers come as a grunt when another contraction pulses through you. It's awful, burning, biting pain that shreds your belly, the muscles in your thighs, your back, everywhere, and you scream through it, while the two nurses on either side of you fold your legs back and the doctor coaches you to push.

"I can't!" You really can't. You can't do this without them. You don't even care about what they did anymore. You don't want to do this without them. They have to be here. "I can't, I ca-can't. Please, call Johnny. Or, or Simon." You pant, and eye the nervous looking aide that stands behind one of the nurses. "Call them!" You shout, and your sweet nurse gives him a nod, urging him into action as he fumbles with your phone and steps outside.

"Okay sweetheart. We're calling them, okay? But you have to push. Your body is ready." You shake your head, but you know she's right. You can feel your body bearing down, your muscles working inside of you, everything aligning so that you can have this baby.

It fills you with fear. Dread overcomes you, and when you feel the next contraction coming on, you begin to hyperventilate.

You can't have their baby without them.

"No... nonono-" You protest, like you're telling yourself, your own body, not to do what it was meant to do. It's useless however, because as your contraction peaks, your doctor is counting, and you can't help but push the way your body wants to, screaming your pain as loud as you can.

"Good job." She encourages once it passes, her eyes checking a tablet that's held in front of her face quickly, before returning her gaze back to you. "Okay, next one you're going to push for the full ten seconds okay? You can do it."

"I don't want to." You protest with a cry, and your nurse pats your hand sympathetically.

"I know, I know." She helps shift you forward, and then the next one is coming, and you feel like you're being torn apart, like your body is burning and being ripped in two as you push.

"I can see the head, you're almost there." Someone says, but you're not sure who it is, or if you care, your focus moving to one sole thing now, getting this baby out of your body as fast as you can. You breathe for maybe five seconds before the next wave begins, and then you're dropping your chin to your chest while you push with everything you have, voices in the room rising and falling, everything feeling too loud and too overwhelming, and then all of the sudden, there's a shifting inside of you, and then suddenly an overwhelming emptiness before-

a screaming, crying, shrieking baby is plopped onto your chest.

"There she is!" Your nurse calls, and you stare, slack jawed, unable to speak, unable to move while they cover her with a blanket and someone continues to work between your legs. "Congratulations mum!" The baby cries, and you lift a hand to cradle her closer while someone wipes around the top of her head.

"Hi, Bee... I'm your mom." you cry, and lower your lips to her head, placing a soft kiss on her skin while someone rubs her down. She cries, lungs healthy and full of power, and you laugh a little.

"Did you get a hold of them?" You ask him breathlessly, and he nods with a gulp.

"They're on their way." They're on their way. The words slam against your heart, and the feeling of relief is immense. They're coming. They're going to be here.

"Thank you." You hardly look at him, keeping your eyes on Bee, and her little angel face, perfect in every way.

The next few minutes pass in a blur. The doctor works on you, pressing on your stomach a few times in an awful way that hurts but is necessary, and then your bed is moved to a better position for sitting up. Bee is removed from your chest for measurements and a quick clean up, before she's placed back in your arms, freshly swaddled and soothed. You're mesmerized by her nose, her eyelashes, her tiny fingers that wrap around one of yours. Your baby, your daughter. The one you carried for nine months, the one that you went through so much heartache for, the one that you struggled so much for, was finally here. You wish they were here already, to see her, to see how precious she is, how amazing, and you sniffle through some tears when you realize you'll get to see the looks on both their faces when they see her for the first time, when they hold her.

You lift your hand to stroke the softness of her cheek, and frown, when it doesn't really cooperate... the limb feeling heavy and stiff, like it's not even really on your body. That's... weird. You try again, and again, with no success, and then you realize the room is kind of shifting, kind of spinning slightly, like you're dizzy.

"Uh-" You call out to the nurse who's on a laptop at the desk, her back partially turned towards you, and she glances over with a smile that quickly changes to a firm line when she rushes over. "I feel funny." You tell her, and she nods, the mechanics of the bed whirring while you're lowered completely flat. Bee cries, disrupted by the movement, and you want to shush her, soothe her, but the words don't come, and everything is very loud all of the sudden, bells, whistles, beeps and alarms going off at a frantic pace overtop the voices that have quickly filled the room.

"-ake the baby."

"too much-"

"hemmorage-"

The words come in clips, and your vision becomes filled with white dots as Bee is lifted off your chest, the arm that held her close to your body falling limply to your side. What's happening? You want to ask, want to scream it at them. Where are you taking her? She's crying in the nurse's arms, her distressed little face the last thing you see before your vision goes completely black, and you fade away.

"Drive fucking faster." Johnny shouts, and Simon squeezes his knee to try to calm him as best he can in this moment, even though the two of them are the farthest thing from being calm.

You were in labor, and you had actually called them. Simon's heart had soared when he answered the phone, telling the guy on the phone to tell you that they were on their way, that they'd be there soon while he and Johnny sprinted to the car. You had called them. You wanted them there.

"Tell her we love her!" He had huffed while fumbling with the keys. "We love her so much. We'll be there soon."

"Settle, Johnny." He's trying to keep Johnny calm, trying to keep himself calm, while also trying to drive as fast as possible to get to you.

"Aye, 'm sorry. I'm just... I can't wait to see her. I can't believe she called." Simon can't either. He can't believe that after eight months of being apart, eight months of wondering if they'd even ever see you again, it was them you were calling for when you needed someone, them that you wanted by your side.

It felt like a gift. It felt like a second chance.

"I hope she's okay." Johnny hedges, nervous tinge to his voice and Simon rubs his thigh to try to soothe him.

"I'm sure she's fine, babies are born all the time, yeah?"

"Yeah."

They rush the desk when they get there, both spitting out your name and the woman jerks backwards before adjusting, typing onto her keyboard to locate your record. A full minute passes, while the receptionist's brow furrows, and they both nearly explode.

"She should be here, we got a phone call." Johnny blurts.

"Should be in labor and delivery." Simon tries to provide, helpfully and they both stand there anxiously, while she taps away.

"Ah! Sorry, there she is. I've paged the L&D department, and someone will be down shortly. You can wait in those seats over there." She points to some arm chairs, and they both ignore the suggestion, opting to stand right in front of a set of doors.

"Mr. Riley? Mr MacTavish?" A female voice calls a few minutes later, and they nod, overeager as she approaches. A million questions bubble up in Simon's head, where are you, have you delivered yet, are you doing okay, how's the baby... but they all come to a screeching halt when the doctor gets close enough for him to read her face.

No.

"Can you come with me?"

"And there was just too much blood. Once the hemorrhaging started, it couldn't be controlled." Johnny hears what the doctor is saying. He can hear her, loud and clear. He copies her.

But he doesn't understand. His brain can't make the words fit, can't make them make sense. What does that mean? He glances at Simon, who doesn't look at him, just stares at the doctor, face stricken, pale as ash. Like he's seen a ghost. Like someone has died. But that can't be right.

"Alright." He says slowly. "But she's going to be okay?"

"Johnny." Simon croaks, and the doctor shakes her head.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. MacTavish. She's gone." Who's gone? Not you, obviously. What's going on here?

"No. No, no she can't be gone." Johnny protests. This doctor is clearly confused. "She just had someone call us. She's having... she's having a baby. Our baby. She's-" The doctor gives him a sad look, sympathetic and understanding. "No. She can't be gone, we just... we just got here. We-"

"Johnny." Simon says again and Johnny pivots on him.

"Tell her Si. Tell her, she's alright." Simon swings an arm forward, grabbing him by the collarbone, and holding on tight, pulling him close to his body.

It's only then, when Johnny looks up into Simon's face, and sees the tears there, sees those eyes, flooded, sees his cheeks, wet, his face full of turmoil and distress, that it really makes sense.

"No." He whispers. "No, she can't be." He shakes his head, and Simon tries to hold it still, tries to cradle his face in his palms. "Simon." He moans, word splitting into a cry, and then he's burying his face into Simon's neck, spilling hot tears onto his skin. Darling. Their Darling. Their Darling girl. Gone.

Because of them.

They did this.

Simon's body is shaking, shoulders trembling with his sobs, while he holds Johnny close, and Johnny screams into his chest, he screams and he screams until there's nothing left inside of him, every second ticking by bringing him farther and farther away from a time in his life when you still existed, when you were still in this world with them. And he wants it to stop, he wants it to stop so fucking bad but it won't, and he can't make it, he can't do anything, except stand here and scream, scream and beg and plead an unknown entity who's never given him anything good except for you and Simon.

They never got to tell you they still love you.

They didn't even get to say goodbye.

Hours later, they sit in a room with an empty bed, side by side, while a nurse stands in front of them with a tiny, sleeping baby wrapped in a blanket.

"This is your daughter." She tells them. "Her name is Bee."

"Bee." Johnny whispers, and she nods.

"Would you like to hold her?"

"Yes." Johnny says, but the word sounds flat, and he feels numb. The nurse places little Bee in his arms, while Simon watches, unblinking from where he sits right next to him. "Bee." He says again, looking down at her, truly looking at her for the first time. She looks so much like you, more like you than either of them, and he can't stop the tears that fall freely, while Simon reaches over and hesitantly strokes her cheek with a knuckle.

"She's beautiful." Simon whispers hoarsely, voice coarse with tears, and Johnny agrees. Johnny tries to stifle a sob, desperate not to wake Bee while she sleeps, but Simon can't stop himself, and he covers his face with his hand to try to smother his cry. "She looks just like her." Simon chokes, and Johnny's arms shake around where Bee is cradled. He leans to the side, into Simon, who wraps his arm around him immediately, holding Johnny while he holds their daughter, your daughter. They cannot stop their tears, their hearts cracking wide open in both of their chests as they stay down her, their only piece left of you in this world, the only thing they have left to cling to.

"You look just like your mum, baby Bee."

[lvlyghost]

Hi I just read your “The Things I Never Said” oneshot and loved it. Can I get a kind of opposite version where Simon wishes to be a dad but the reader never wants to be a mom so she freaks out and gets an abortion with out Simons knowledge and later he somehow finds out? Maybe angst to fluff? Totally ignore this if you dont want to, have a wonderful day/night.

The Things I Wish I Said

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You decide to end things with Simon after what you did.

Word Count: 1.7k

Tw: hurt, comfort, angry simon, angst, implied abortion. Not proofread.Think that's it but lmk if i missed anything!🐸

A/N: here it is! I hope this doesn't disappoint and that it lives up to your expectations 😰🤞🏻 I really enjoyed writing this one and since it's similar to my previous fic decided to name it quite similar. ✨💞

Masterlist✨Masterpost

He doesn't know. You stare at Simon's gargantuan body as he barks orders to the new recruits. Things have been rather... tense lately. And it's all because of you.

Yesterday had taken a toll on you. A big piece of your heart and soul lost forever in that godamn clinic. You can still smell the perfume of the nurse, feel the hands of the doctor as he tried to comfort you. You're deadly pale, tired and numb. That's why you're sitting on the other side of the field, watching the rest of your team training as usual. Nothing changes for them. You on the other hand? Can't even look at Simon in the eyes. Not anymore. The one thing he wanted the most was also the one you were the most reluctant to. It just wasn't you.

You didn't have it in your DNA. To be a mother. To carry a baby in your arms. And not because you're selfish, but you had decided a long time ago that having children was off the table.

Even when everybody would say 'you'll change your mind when you find the one'. Well it was a blatant lie because you found him. You loved Simon. You'd do whatever he asked of you. Just not this. And you hate yourself for it.

You lied to him and didn't mention anything. Didn't tell him you were pregnant with his offspring.

Couldn't even bare to maintain a conversation with him. And he's starting to notice the way your body startles when he reaches out to you. How you avoid his gaze or not kiss him anymore.

"Feeling better?" He questions, strong arms crossed. Simon doesn't fully look down where you sit but side eyes you. He awaits. You're looking out to the field, ignoring his presence as you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Not really, Lieutenant." You simply add, in a hushed tone.

He sighs but doesn't move, starting to lose his patience. He's trying so hard to understand why you're acting like this. He's preoccupied. Anxious. Yet doesn't let it show, remaining stoic as ever.

"Wanna talk about it, Sergeant?" Biting down on your lip and fidgeting with your hands you shake your head. Simon rubs his face, annoyed that whatever the fuck is happening is driving the both of you apart, so he sits down on the bench next to you. "What is it?" He turns his head to you. Arms resting on his knees.

"Simon..." you warn him with a sad tone.

"No. That's an order."

"Sir, we're done here..." One of the recruits shouts from the other side.

"You bloody keep going until I tell you to stop!" He seethes, making you flinch.

Resting your head on your hands, start thinking about the inevitable. About what you're going to do. Your heartbeat racing when you feel his eyes on you again.

"Simon..." you say. "I... I- don't think we should be together right now." It hurts deep inside because all that's left is the rustling of wind and the voices of the soldiers around. You don't turn to see his reaction, probably wouldn't be able to stand it. It's not because you didn't love him. In fact, you loved him more than he could imagine. It's what you did behind his back what's eating you alive. And the best way you can seem to cope with it is to leave him.

Not a sound comes from him for the next few seconds. Until you finally find the courage to look his way. Blue eyes scan your body.

"As you wish, kid." He whispers. You can't see it but he's already spiraling down to a dark place.

The one good thing he had...

-

"I've had enough!" Soap's voice booms in the hallway and then your door bursts open. You shriek, standing up from the bed. "I can't stand it anymore lass. You've gotta talk to him." He says.

"Johnny... we've talked about this." You murmur.

"No. I'm being serious! Ghost is more irritated than usual, he almost punched me for saying he needed to get laid. The bloody hell happened to you both?" His eyebrows furrow. "You need to figure this out, otherwise..."

"It's complicated." You deadpan.

"Well then bloody make it right! Steaming fucking Jesus you two acting like fucking children. Grow the hell up."

You had never seen Johnny this mad.

Of course you were aware of Ghost's attitude since you two broke up. And it's only been three weeks. You've been attending the military counselor since then, it's a sorrowful feeling when you think about Simon, while you talk about him. About what led to the end of your relationship or whatever it was that you two had going on.

"I believe what you went through was hard and painful. But I do think that he deserves an answer." she had insisted. "He needs to know."

It was easier said than done. Every time you thought about going to his room or wherever he'd be you got this uneasy feeling, like he somehow despised you now. That all the soft smiles and gentle caressing that were once just for you had turned into frowns and harsh commands. Dismissing you whenever you showed up to training. Not even making eye contact during debriefs. Walking right past you in the corridor. You can't help but wonder if the baby's eyes would've been more like him or yours.

Stop.

The counselor said it was a type of ptsd and that therapy would help you get through it.

"The first step is to let yourself feel that pain, make amends with it, and then go see him."

"I'll try to talk to him Johnny. I promise." You murmur, jaw clenching.

The mere thought of going to speak to Simon made your hands sweat and your heart beat frantically.

Three days after the conversation with Soap, you stand in front of Simon's bedroom door. Blinking rapidly as your mind races with all the things you ought to say. It's almost one in the morning, unable to sleep you decided the conversation couldn't wait any longer. You couldn't wait anymore. Swallowing down saliva you raise your hand, two soft knocks on the door echoing in the empty hallway and you wait patiently, fumbling with your hands as the anxiety begins to raise.

Simon doesn't open so you knock again two times only to be greeted by more silence and a loud thunder outside in the sky.

A quiet huff leaves your mouth as you turn on your heel and leave. Wandering around the compound with no clear direction. It's dead silent, you're left with your own self destructive thoughts as you walk past the gym. A low thud can be heard from behind the doors so you backtrack and take a glimpse through the window.

Why is he at the gym at this ungodly hour?

Pushing past the door you walk sluggishly, Simon's quick to notice the disturbance, ready to snap at whomever is here to interrupt his midnight routine. It's been like this for weeks now; not being able to sleep. The nightmares that had disappeared for the most part came back with full force.

There's a hollow feeling inside of him ever since you decided to call it quits. He doesn't fucking understand, he's mad. Furious even. Can't help the anger whenever he wakes up and you're not there anymore. Can't bear the sight of you during debriefings and not even looking his way. The way you freeze when he has to order you around.

Had he done anything to make you fearful of him?

He needed to know, he needs answers. He'd ask tomorrow. He swears. Whatever it was. Then he'll walk away.

He stands from where he was about to start the second round of push-ups. Simon's able to recognize your silhouette with the lights off, he just knows you that well. Wherever you were, in a sea full of people he'd know it's you even then.

"Sorry..." you murmur. Simon's looking at you over his left shoulder through the mirror in front of him, you stand a few steps behind him. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

He stays silent. It's now that you come to realize that he isn't wearing the mask, instead lies on the room floor, discarded. "Was looking for you in your room but-"

"Say it." He barks, turning around and stalking towards you. His presence alone making you feel smaller. His brows are knitted, jaw clenched so hard you're sure he'll break his teeth. Simon is massive. Yet, despite all of this you know he'd never lay a finger on you, nor hurt you. "Fucking start talking, kid." The hurt in his voice is palpable. You fumble with your hands, it's getting harder to keep your eyes on his. You do not deserve his love at all. "Because I've been losing my mind ever since you shut me out."

A soft wail escapes your lips, you try to muffle it. Simon hesitates for a second. Wanting nothing more than to hold you in his arms, he awaits.

"I... I- got pregnant." You cried. "And you've always known I never wanted that. I panicked and didn't say a word because it would be more painful or...-" you swallow through incessant tears. "Or so I thought. I decided to get rid of it, Simon. But seeing what's done to us. What I've done... I'm so fucking sorry I don't deserve-"

Suddenly you're engulfed by strong arms and a broad chest as you finally let go and cry rivers of pain and regret. He's murmuring sweet things in your ear that you can't understand die to your deteriorating situation.

"It's okay. It's okay, love. Fucking hell, should've come to me." He growled. "Don't you ever do this to me again, kid. You didn't have to do it alone. Christ."

There's a soft kiss on the top of your head as your cries start to die down and all there's left are soft whimpers.

"I never meant to leave you, but I couldn't be close to you after what I did behind your back." You sniff.

The ever gentle caressing of his thumb on your back never ceases, providing the comfort you so desperately seek.

"S'alright, love. Nothing to be sorry about." He takes a step back keeping you at arms length. "There she is." A little broken but starting to be pieced back together. He gently wipes your cheeks and breathes deep. "I'm here. Always."

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Reader

"Where are you going? Look, the Titans needs us-"

"Fuck them, Rose. Fuck all of you"

"Jason, please! Where are you gonna go?? We can figure something out!"

When Jason left with Rose out of Gotham City, you were heartbroken. You kept a one-sided love hidden, thinking it would be too selfish to confess your feelings to him while he's in an unstable state of self hatred. But when Dick revealed that he killed Deathstroke's son just moments after you managed to get Jason to step away from the ledge, you almost let your secret slip when Jason was swiftly packing his things as you begged him to stay.

"Figure what out, Y/N? Huh? Why are you even staying? Almost everyone is leaving anyway, and Dick is just a liar," Jason argued, stuffing his duffle bag with whatever clothes he could find.

"Because the Titans are the only family I have! At least Gar is staying. But you don't have to leave, Jay"

"And why shouldn't I? There's nothing for me here. Everyone hates me, hell, even you probably hate me. You only got me off the roof out of pity"

"That's not true, Jason."

"Then why else would you?!"

"Because I-" You quickly stop yourself, knowing things would only become worse if your feelings were revealed. So you took a deep breath and took a second to calmed down.

"Because you're my friend, Jay. One of the best friends I ever had. And I don't want you to leave," you say quietly.

Jason stared at you for a couple of seconds before taking your hand in his. "Then come with us. You don't have to do everything Dick tells you to anymore, no more lies, no more half truths."

You sighed, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Yeah, I don't think I like the idea of third wheeling you and Rose," you try to joke, but your heart actually aching at the thought. "But seriously, I don't think leaving is a good idea, especially with Deathstroke around. And being alone with his daughter, I mean-"

"Wait, what you don't trust her or something?" Jason interrupts you, taking slight offence.

"I'm just saying to be cautious, Jason. I mean, Deathstroke already kidnapped you once and-"

"And what? You think Rose is working with him? Jesus Christ, and I thought I was fucked up," He scoffs. "Y'know, Rose admired that I made it out alive from her dad. I managed to make it out alive, and you still think I'm weak?"

"Jason, I never said that!-"

"Nah, fuck this, you're just like everyone else here," Jason says, zipping his bag close and storming out the room.

"Jason!" You tried calling out, just for him to ignore.

-

"What, was it part of Daddy's training to fuck me this whole time?!" Jason yells at Rose. "I'm done with this shit," he says, grabbing his bag, starting to leave the home the two raided.

Rose quickly grabbed onto his arm to prevent him from leaving.

"Look, none of this was supposed to happen. It just did," she tries to tell him, but he ignores her, tearing his arm away from her grip.

"Get the fuck off me." He cries, and as if by reflex, Rose strikes a punch at him, blood quickly falling down his now broken nose.

"C'mon! Fight me! You know you want to!" She says in desperation.

Jason sends a cold stare. "Are we done?" She doesn't reply, tears building up in her eye. "We're done," he says, walking towards the door as Rose cries.

"Where are you going? Look the Titans needs us!" She calls out to him as he reaches the door.

"Fuck them, Rose. Fuck all of you," he replies, finally walking out the door with only one thing on his mind.

You.

He hailed the first cab he could find, telling the driver to head back to Gotham City.

All he could think about was how stupid he was to you. You were right, and he just left you like you were nothing. You saved him, and he treated you like dirt. You said he was your friend, and he abandoned you.

He rushed out the taxi after paying the driver, running up to the small apartment you were living at. You spent most of your time in Titan's Tower, but went back to your place when you wanted to be fully alone.

Your apartment was only big enough for one person, granted there were ants here and there, and a little mould growing in some places, but you saw it as your own place.

Jason knocked on your door three times, followed by a call of your name. He knocked again, a little louder, and a little more desperate. What if you weren't home? He couldn't go back to Titans Tower, he wasn't ready to see everyone else.

When no one answered, his shoulders slumped, and was about to walk away.

But your door opened, and you appeared on the other side, rubbing your red eyes with a fluffy blanket draped over your shoulders and your hair running wild as it was tangled and bunched all over the place.

"Jesus, who died," you say groggily, having not registered who knocked on your door.

Jason's eyes brightened as he returned to the front of your door.

"Y/n.." He softly called out. You stopped rubbing your eyes as you looked up at him, eyes widening as you couldn't believe Jason was standing right in front of you.

"Jason.." You replied, not knowing what to say. "How have you- uhm.. D'you wanna come in?" You awkwardly offered, Jason nodding as you stepped aside for him to walk in.

You directed him towards the couch. "Uh.. do you want something to drink or..."

"No." Jason quickly replies. "I- I just needa talk to you."

You nod, walking over to sit beside him on the couch.

"So.."

"I'm sorry," he says, looking at you with those glassy eyes. "You were right. Rose was spying on me, working with Deathstroke, you were right. I should've listened to you, I should've stayed. Just- just say I told you so and-"

You interrupted Jason by lunging towards him, blanket falling off as you wrapped your arms around him. "I'm so glad you're back," you said, your voice muffled.

Jason sits there in shock, slowly wrapping his arms around your middle. "You- You're not mad?"

You pull away, "Why would I be mad?" You ask, hands boldly reaching up to hold his face.

"Why wouldn't you be! I treated you like shit! I didn't listen to you, then I just left! How could not hate me?" He says in an outburst.

All you do is sigh and look away.

"What? What is it?" Jason asks.

"It's because I love you, Jay," you finally confess. Jason's eyes widened and was left speechless. All he could do was lean closer as his gaze shift down to your lips.

You lightly chuckle as you olace a hand against his chest to stop him.

"Stop. You're only doing that because of guilt," You say.

But Jason shakes his head. "No. No, I don't believe I am," he replies. "You've no idea how much I wanted this. Ever since you joined the team, I promise you."

You sighed. "Listen, you just parted ways with Rose, I don't actually think you-"

"A chance," he interrupts. "Give me a chance to show you how much I care for you. How much I feel the same for you. Take you out on dates, give you flowers, whatever. Just a chance, and if you still don't believe it, fine, I leave you be. But a chance is all I beg for."

You look down at your fiddling fingers, eyebrows furrowed, wondering whether or not he's telling the truth.

"One chance," you say. "One chance and one chance only. If you screw this up, then that's that."

Yeah I didn't really know how to finish it off, like I had the idea for the start but didn't know how to make the rest of the story so its pretty shit, but at the same time, its 2am so whatevah

Jason smiles, bringing you in for a tight embrace. "You won't regret it, I promise you, mama."

[crxmxnzl-c0rpzes]

You disappeared. The last thing anyone knows is that you went on patrol and never came back. Maria sent a group to find you. There wasn't a trace. No blood, no dead body, and no runner that looked like you. You were gone and were never found.

Everyone knew you. You weren't shy, you were the shoulder to lean on, the children knew you; you were always playing hide and seek or tag with them as their parents were doing their jobs, you always insisted on helping everyone you always said "I have two free hands, let me help you." You were the sun. Your soul might be the sun. You gave warmth and light. Your smile was contagious and your laugh filled the silence. I've never met anyone who had the sun of a soul.

I remember everything about you. You never left. I dream of you. Dina tells me I have to let go but I don't think I can. You're gone and I can't seem to fall asleep in peace. I stopped visiting your house, your bedroom, your kitchen, the smell, the joy, the memories. Joel made me. Joel says to write letters to you and that it might work. So, I am. I used to start off with "dear" and end it with "love". Joel says I should burn the letters after but I don't. You might come back. I might give you the letters. I might not. What would I do if you did come back? And you were perfectly fine? Would you say you didn't like Jackson or anyone here? Not possible. You love loved? love it here. You love everyone here. You couldn't just hate us? Hate me? You wouldn't leave me right? You said you wouldn't leave. What if you come back dead? What if you were kidnapped and they killed you... No. I'll hurt them. I'll You're not dead. It's been three years now. You would've returned by now if you did run away. Where did you run away to? Why didn't you bring me with? I need to stop.

I wonder what everyone at Jackson thinks. I told Tommy that I'm leaving. I knew if I told Joel he'd be pissed. But he found out and got even more pissed that I didn't tell him. Tommy told him. Then Maria found out then Dina then Jesse. I sat in the living room of Tommy's. Everyone scolded me. "You're not leaving" "Ellie it's been three years" "You can't go after her" So, I agreed to staying at Jackson. But then I left. I couldn't sleep that night. They shouldn't have believed me. But they did. Well, Joel didn't. He was waiting for me. I knew he was. I saw that he was. He tried to convince me to stay but he knew I wasn't going to. He let me go. I went off. I left. And I won't return until I find you. But I should stop I should rest. Dina would tell me to. Fuck, you would tell me to. But I can't. Not until I find you. I won't find you I'll find you. I never knew I could become like this. Would I really travel the whole world to find you? Why? We aren't dating. We're friends. But you kissed me. Your soft lips were on mine. I want need that feeling again. I need you here. You kissed me the night before you disappeared. Did you know you were going to disappear? Is that why you kissed me? You kissed me and then said you had to go home before you got caught by your parents for sneaking out again. Then the next day you were gone. Your parents said you never got back home the night before. The night you kissed me. They knew you snuck out and waited for you to come back but you never did.

-Idk what this is. I don't think this even makes sense. But I wanted to make a little drabble. Maybe you did run away or maybe something happened while you were on patrol? Who knows? I might make another part?

[danganphobia]

but they stay with laios until he falls asleep anyway they barely get any sleep later in the morning themselves.

this is honestly so sweet they r his lesbian parents… AAAAH man laios angst is rlly real. i love farcille sm they are thee understanders TM theyre so sweet,,, theyre probably out here having fun and silly theatre or opera dates … the :3 to me

also also u mentioned chilshi. what r they up to. are they old men yaoi. r they professors or just . job havers. bar owners or smth

oh mah god i havent thought much about chilshi. my beloved old man yaoi. that's ok we're going through my thought process together.

if i were to think about it chilchuck sounds like a miserable medieval history adjunct professor. he's divorced. he sees his daughters like twice a month and they're the reason for his will to live, when he doesn't see them, he hates everything and everyone. he doesn't really like his job. he has tenure. he can do what he wants. when his students ask him if he could repeat the assignment he just says "No." and tells them all to leave his class because lecture time has ended and he refuses to go another minute over. his class exam average is below 40 percent and he doesn't give a fuck. he's waiting for his next paycheck to buy drinks at the local pub.

senshi's a culinary professor. he loves cooking and he loves teaching people how to cook. he's been doing it his whole life. he cooks for the gang during dnd meetings. whenever he's in a kitchen he makes it his own, even if the kitchen doesn't belong to him. if it weren't for him everyone would probably die of dehydration or live on cup ramen and frozen food for entire semesters. he leaves pastries on chilchuck's desk because chilchuck has to mentally prepare himself to help teach a class of 50 uninterested people that do anything but actually pay attention for nearly 3 hours. the pastries are actually what keeps chilchuck going. chilchuck is the one that asks senshi if he wants to go drinking. senshi is a really good listener, chilchuck finds that hot, and tries to sleep with him, but senshi stops him and asks if he could just come over to his apartment and senshi will cook a nice warm meal for him instead and take it slow, because he's a gentleman.

chilchuck actually agrees to it and has a good time. they sleep together but don't have sex, and he wakes up in the morning like damn, i actually have a crush at my big age? that's crazy.

this becomes a regular thing for them until chilchuck can't take it anymore and grabs senshi by the beard and is like "WE NEED TO FUCK. RIGHT NOW." and senshi goes "okay :) after dinner with me first :)" (they have sex).

"how did they get into the dnd club van" falin slapped a bunch of posters around campus with cute doodles and senshi saw it on his way to his classroom. he asked chilchuck if he wants to join sometime in case he's sick of teaching hopelessly unmotivated students. chilchuck thinks about it for a long time but one day when he's so stressed from teaching he joins a meeting and promises it's just "one time only" and ends up becoming a regular.

he brings his daughters to the dnd meetings and marcille is so happy because they're so cute. most of the time they just want to play minecraft and are on their expensive smartphones but they're nice girls. sometimes namari and kabru buy them fast food behind senshi's back when they don't feel like eating healthy.

[decolonize-the-everything]

Thinking about Project2025 and how it's at every level and branch of government. How entire cities are now under their thumb.

How Biden is saying "Israel has a right to defend itself" while calling Cop City protesters terrorists for not wanting a more deadly police force to be trained. But didn't stand with rail workers when they demanded better treatment when it was freezing and trains were being derailed.

How an epidemic on par with HIV ravaged the globe and Biden allowed pharma companies to exploit the world with price tags after promising it'd be public access.

Thinking about how in all this Israel and the USA are said to test tactics and weapons on Palestine.

How the USA stands with Zionists and how many people have told me, a native American, that Palestinians are in the wrong.

How the last 75 years don't matter. Only the last 2 weeks.

And real fucking talk?

For all the "progress" liberals pretend we made how are we here?

Americans and several of the Allied countries would not hesitate to conduct Manifest Destiny 2.0 and have blatantly stated as much.

Americans are saying things that my great grandmother heard about reservations and then later about native liberation. They're saying things the pilgrims told us before that. We're animals. Savages. That we are to blame. That when we die out it'll be because we didn't fight hard enough. That we don't deserve to even be here.

And you know what, I would hope this post would reach some of them but I genuinely feel as if liberals are as far gone as MAGAs are.

They will read this and just go and on and on about how bad the other guy is.

How justified they are to keep voting blue. Just like MAGA's whine until their privileged lives being "ruined" by "woke lies" justified them voting for Trump. Just like Israel is justified. Like every fucking war criminal ever has been.

BUT

I implore you to STOP trying to fucking justify everything! Nobody fucking cares about the reasons you use to support a genocidal war monger who's legacy before this was signing one of the most racially marginalizing bills in US history.

How about you try justifying taking a fucking risk, instead?

People in Palestine are being bombed every fucking day and you want to twiddle your thumbs about NOT voting for the guy who said it was okay and for what? Because your life might not be as comfortable as it is right now? That's your concern from your home with a roof?

Call me a fucking conspiracist but I haven't been wrong yet: Biden is a fucking Project2025 plant. And him and Hillary both have done nothing but make the democrats more and more conservative by catering to the "centrist" votes for decades.

Now we're here. They've compromised so much and want to look so "fair" that a genocide is being paid for on American tax dollars and what are liberals tellings us, what are they saying? ITS JUSTIFIED???? AND TO VOTE FOR BIDEN AGAIN

Y'all are so worried about everyone voting blue to avoid republican fascists that you don't even CARE how bad the people youre voting in are. You haven't even noticed the fascists you put in office yourselves.

You forgot your boundaries.

And isn't it funny how rad/fems and TERFs got mainstream around the same time? You know, the white supremacists based ideology that seeped into the mainstream because nobody was critically consuming or gatekeeping what was "empowering to women" for fear of being 'cancelled'?

Why? Cuz if you hate them you hate women. Just like if you criticize america then you're an anti-american Russian/spy/plant. Like if you support Palestine then you hate Jewish people. If support BLM then you obviously hate white people.

And that's it, isn't it. That's what it all boils down to.

White supremacists are and have been manipulating & gaslighting us en masse.

You know your friends that learned to gaslight an audience with therapy speak? The one that makes you afraid to call them out cuz they're better with words than you and could just as easily turn everyone against you if they use enough buzzwords?

That's the tactics white supremacists are using.

"I must be quiet so I don't say something wrong and look like a bigot" "if I speak, I may say the wrong things" "I may say the right thing the wrong way"

They have made you AFRAID to speak against genocide!!! Wake the fuck up!!!!

They aren't event trying to hide it! The IDF made a post that straight up says "you are an anti-Semite if you speak against Israel"

WHICH IS JUST STRAIGHT UP UNTRUE!! So may Jewish people have come forward against Israel and against Zionism and to support Palestine!

Israel's government is Zionist and that is not an inherently Jewish trait! Making you you believe otherwise is part of the propaganda and manipulation so you Stop speaking up. You can support Jewish people and Palestinians both.

Israel and the USA want you to believe that it is one or the other and that's not true.

The only people who benefit from trying to make you choose between which humans get to live are the white supremacists who cheer when this rhetoric starts to normalize conversation about which people are more worthy of living than another.

You have been gaslit into supporting genocide.

Gaslit into going down a white supremacist pipeline.

Gaslit into giving your silent consent.

Snap out of it.

[youling-the-ghost]

More sfth incorrect quotes! ft. hopefully better formatting (the link I used to generate these)

*obligatory "none of the shipping quotes are me actually shipping them"

Tom: When I said you should try being friendlier this isn't what I meant. Luke, stirring a cup of tea aggressively: Oh, so now I'm TOO friendly? There's no pleasing you. AJ, who broke into his house an hour ago: Two sugars please. Luke: Coming right up. Luke: Tom, I don’t think I can handle any more of your tomfuckery. Tom: Oh yeah? Well I can keep going until you’re all tomfuckered out!

Tom: CHARACTER. FLAWS. ARE. FUCKING. IMPORTANT. Luke: Me when someone tells me to stop eating mayo packets like they’re gogurt tubes. Sam, making a cup of tea: Yeah, get into that leaf juice, you sexy, sexy bee sauce. Tom: Hey, do you take constructive criticism? Sam: I absolutely fucking do not. Tom: I never understood why people cared so much about their dumb friends until I got a dumb friend myself. Tom: *Picks up AJ* Tom: I’ve only befriended AJ for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in this room and then my self. AJ: Everyone has a toxic trait. Except Tom, he's perfect. Tom: Wrong! My toxic trait is how badly I want to domesticate a raccoon. Luke: Ew. What kind of tea is this? AJ: I boiled gatorade. AJ: I know what a prism is! It's where you put bad people. Sam: Do you want this handful of moss? Tom: Why would I want a handful of fucking moss? Sam: Damn, you could’ve just said no. Tom: For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely. AJ, Sam, & Luke: Okay. Tom: If you don't want to die, give me all your money. AJ: Bold of you to assume I have money. Sam: Bold of you to assume I don't want to die. Luke: Bold of you to assume I can die. Luke: Two brooooos! Sam: Chillin' in a hot tub! Luke: Five feet apart 'cause we're not gay! Sam: Luke: Sam: *tearing up* Luke: Babe, c'mon… Sam: AND HERE YOU REALLY HAD ME THINKING WE HAD SOMETHING. Luke: Babe… Luke: Wow, they really hate us. Sam: Yes, perhaps they’re homophobic. Luke: But we’re not gay, Sam. Sam: Luke: Sam: We’re not? Sam: What’s it like being tall? Luke: Is it nice? AJ: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? Tom: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want. Luke: I think we should have glow stick juice injected in our bones when we're born, so if we break our bones, we get a fun little surprise. AJ: What's the surprise? Tom: Blood poisoning. Tom: There's nothing worse than people using big words they don't understand. AJ: I photosynthesize with this. Luke: What is it called when you kill a friend? Tom: Homicide. Sam: Murder. AJ: Homiecide. Tom: What do we say when making bread? AJ, glumly: That's the dough rising. Tom: And what do we NOT say? Sam, sadly: That's the yeast fucking. Sam: What if people had food names and food had people names? Luke: Hey, spaghetti, we’re having Sam for dinner. Tom: What is wrong with you people? AJ: Shut up, chocolate. Sam: Time freezes for everyone but you one day. What do you do? Luke: Oh… I’d mildly trouble everyone. Sam: Alright, so what would you do? Luke: I’d shave a one-inch thick line in every thick beard I saw. Luke: I’d twist all the lightbulbs just a little bit so no one would know when they aren’t working. Luke: I’d make every wing on girls eyeliner just a little bit higher than the other one. Luke: And I’d tie everyone’s shoelaces together. Luke: And then lastly, I’d snip a little hole in every tea bag. Sam: Sam: Remind me to never allow you to have power.

[we-were-born-to-be-free]

Hi there! I’m new to your page but I’ll take anyone who writes for my husband (mr. Benjamin Barnes) Do you think maybe you could write something where the reader is a moon summoner and she/they have like a traumatic past them makes them hide it for years until she meets Aleksander and he finds out maybe? Idk that’s pretty specific but just a thought! Have a lovely day!

Little moon - A.M

A/N: I am so sorry this took forever. I just wasn't in the right headspace. Enjoy<3

" Why can't you do anything right you fucking bitch," screamed your father. "You're such a disappointment to us. We never wanted you in our lives, let alone for you to be Grisha! We're so glad you'll be leaving forever. Don't try to come back here ever again. Fucking disappointment," he spat as he slapped you again and kicked you hard. He slammed the door shut and all you could do was lay there and cry.

You woke up with a start, tears already streaming down your face from the nightmare. You sat on the edge of your bed, trying to control your breathing. You left that life long ago when you ran away from home. You'd had enough.

Now you were safe within the walls of the Little Palace. Within the arms of Aleksander. Your love. You weren't sleeping with him because he was extremely busy with the preparations for the Winter Fete.

You had gotten onto your feet before checking what the time was. It was 3.16. You knew you wouldn't be sleeping again.

You slipped your navy-blue silk gown on and made your way to the gardens. You took the long way around, making all the unnecessary turns and stops.

Once you had gotten to your bench, you find your seat taken by Aleksander. You went and sat down next to him, making yourself comfortable against him. "What's wrong lapushka? Can't sleep" He asked.

"Nightmare," you responded, voice muffled against his kefta.

He pulled you closer into him. "When you're ready to tell me more about these nightmares that plague you, darling, I'll be right here. We have all the time in the world," he joked.

You hadn't told him why you were always getting nightmares, just that you were traumatized in your childhood. He understood that you didn't want to mention it too much. You nodded before he kissed the top of your head softly.

"Come on my little moon, you have to get more rest before you meet the king and queen later."

"Mm," you hummed. You moved your hands away from Aleksander and started playing with your powers. You were able to summon moonlight. You were the first of your kind. Your parents weren't Grisha at all.

They hated them. No wonder they hated you just as much. You sat in a comfortable silence with Aleksander. When the sun rose, he kissed your forehead again before leaving to continue with his never-ending work.

Hours later, you were dressed in your midnight blue kefta, with silver embroidery. Your hair was elegantly pinned up by Genya. You were sitting beside Aleksander, with the king and queen.

You were picking at your food, not feeling very hungry. The King called upon you, to which you responded. "I see that you been made commander of the Etherealki. How are you finding it?"

"It has been a little bit of a struggle at first, moi tsar, but I am finding it easier now,"

"I doubt they will behave with a pathetic little girl running their group."

That struck a nerve.

"I mean I know I wouldn't. It is disappointing to see what this world has come to. Girls commanding Etherealki. Pathetic."

You were shocked. How could the King of Ravka, dare say that. He was meant to protect you, to guard you from the world. He was meant to be a father figure. Your hands started shaking and you felt like you couldn't breathe properly.

"Moi tsar, I am not feeling well. With your permission, m- may I retire to my room," you asked, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. He nodded and waved you away.

You were going to have a panic attack. You weren't a stranger to episodes like these, but being in a crowded area didn't help them.

You practically ran to your room, closing the door behind you. You shrugged off your kefta before falling to your knees. Images of your father flashed through your memory. You could hear his voice, telling you how worthless you are.

Your entire body was shaking as you hid your face behind your hands, wishing that his voice would go away. Meanwhile, Aleksander noticed that you were getting nervous, and after you had dashed out of the hall, he didn't bother to excuse himself before following you to your room.

He opened the door to find you crouched down beside your bed, head in your hands. You were sobbing uncontrollably, trying to get the image of your father out of your head.

Aleksander slowly approached your trembling frame. It broke his heart to see you, his little moon, in so much pain. "Milaya?"

You didn't respond, only digging your head deeper into your knees. "Darling," he asked again.

"Don't hurt me. Please. Not again," you whimpered.

"It's just me love. It's Aleksander. Y/N, look at me darling. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours," he cooed.

Once you heard Aleksander's voice, you slowly removed your hands from your face, eyes still shut tightly. "It's okay darling, you're safe. No one can hurt you here."

Your eyes opened to beautiful grey ones, filled with worry. "Hey love."

You jumped into his arms, stumbling as he caught you. You tried to control your breathing, but you just couldn't. You were taking in more air than you needed. Aleksander noticed this and said, "Deep breaths darling. Slowly."

He took a deep breath, demonstrating the action. As you breathed slowly, you hid your face in the crook of his neck, tears still pouring out of your eyes. He rubbed your back as you calmed down, listening to his words of encouragement.

"There you go darling. Feeling better," he asked.

You nodded, still holding onto him tightly. He carried you onto your bed while he tried to find comfortable clothes for you to wear. "Sasha," you asked quietly. "Will you please stay with me tonight?"

"Of course, my little moon," he replied bringing satin pyjamas for you to change into.

Once you had changed, Aleksander was waiting for you on the bed, shirtless with sweatpants . You had placed your head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, taking comfort in knowing that he was here with you.

Aleksander cleared his throat before asking, "Darling? Who hurt you?"

Your body tensed as you answered him. "It was my father, Sasha. He used to hit me, call me names and tell me how useless I am. I was a disappointment to him," you say. "I still am."

"No, love. Don't ever say that about yourself," he says as he wipes your cheeks with his thumbs. "You are perfect, just the way you are my darling. I love you, okay. You're going to make it out of this trauma. I'll help you, my little moon. I promise."

He seals his promise with a kiss to the top of your head.

"Sasha," you ask tentatively.

"Yes my little moon," he responded.

"Thank you. For everything," you yawn. "I love you."

"I love you too, my little moon. Sleep well."

"

[gaysullengirl]

𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞, 𝐭𝐞𝐧. i know what its like

❝ i'm tired of feeling like im fucking crazy. ❞

- lana del rey, ride

    "Reid." Hotch narrowed his eyes at him, "I apologize." Hotch continued.

"I don't." Spencer mumbled, just loud enough for Isabelle to hear, she bit her lip to stop a laugh from slipping out.

"We've heard those phrases before When we interview school shooters." Isabelle explained to the oblivious counselor.

Emily rushed into the room, "Jordan was the motive for Kyle Borden, it was revenge."

"I need to speak to the boys who made this video immediately."

"I'll check their class schedules." The counselor scrambled to his computer to find out, his face dropped immediately, "What is it?"

"None of them show up at school."

୨୧

The local police station smelled of finger printing ink and old coffee, Isabelle enjoyed the smell, it reminded her of when she was a detective for the nypd.

The team heard the familiar sound of Garcia urgently typing on her computer through the phone call, "He deleted everything but the one mpeg." She sighed.

"I'm walking Morgan through retrieving what he put in the trash, but-"

"We've got three missing kids, Garcia, we need access to Owen's E-Mail." Hotch clenched his jaw.

"The kid is tech savvy, sir, but fret not, I am tech savvier!" She exclaimed, "Is that a word? That sounds like a word, if it is a word, I am it!"

"Two alienated kids, no maternal presence, dysfunctional relationships with dominating fathers who with held love, they were made for each other." Rossi said.

Emily shook her head, "Mm, as lovers, yes, but partners in crime, no."

"There's nothing in Jordan's profile that indicates she's capable of violence, and certainly not murder."

"A new mpeg just posted to the school social networking site." Garcia breathed heavily, "He- you need to see this."

A video popped up on the screen, it was of three boys, all on their knees while their hands were on their head infront on a lake.

"It was a joke, man!" One of the boys said, "We didn't mean anything by it!" Another boy shouted, "It was 3 years ago, no one even remembers it." The last boy argued.

"I do." A voice behind the camera said.

"No, owen!" "Don't! Don't!" "Please! No-" The three boys pleaded, they were cut off by gunshots ringing out.

"Garcia, is there any way to trace the mpeg to the computer that sent it?"

୨୧

"Once you've heard the profile, you'll understand." Jj told the officers that were gathered around.

Hotch, Rossi, and Spencer went to the scene where the boys were killed and figured out Owen was collecting injustices- the perfect revenge.

"We are wasting time, Owen is here, and we should be knocking on doors." An officer argued. 

"It's not a good idea." "And why is that?" "Because Owen's watching, he's monitoring the news, right now, he thinks you think he's gone, he feels safe."

"If we start knocking on doors, he's gonna know that he's not, he's gonna feel trapped."

"Why the hell should we care about this little bastard's feelings?" Another officer chimed in.

Isabelle gritted her teeth, "We're here to help you bring in Owen Savage with minimum loss of life, the profile tells us how to do that, if all you're gonna do is bitch and complain then you can leave." She scoffed.

Spencer smiled at her, "Owen Savage fits the profile of a type of school shooter known as an injustice collector, he's trying to avenge perceived wrongs."

"If he's a school shooter, why hasn't he hit the school yet?"

"Jordan. Most of these guys are so angry and hopeless, they just want to kill as many people as possible then commit suicide." Emily explained.

"But Jordan gives him a reason to live."

Isabelle glanced at Spencer 'He gives me a reason to live.' She thought.

Isabelle hated that in so twisted way she related to Owen- she almost felt bad for him in a way.

Growing up in a small town and constantly being the outsider- no matter how hard he tried to fit in and find the acceptance of his peers he never did.

"Otherwise he's a textbook case, his life was one torment after another, his teachers gave up on him, his classmates bullied him, and his father blamed him while giving him access to guns." Spencer said.

"Given these conditions, you're actually quite fortunate." He added.

"It sounds like you're saying these victims deserved this."

"We're not, nobody deserves this." Derek said.

"But you could have prevented it." Spencer lowered his eyes at the officer.

"Reid, can I talk to you?" Hotch said, it was framed as a question but was more of a statement.

The two walked into an empty conference room only a few moments later they exited, Spencer stormed to the exit of the precinct.

Isabelle walked over to Hotch, "He's going to the Savages' residence." Hotch whispered, his eyes still focused on Spencer.

"Can I go with him?" She asked, Hotch's eyes darted to her face, profiling her.

"It's just- his room was really interesting and insightful, his mirror was painted over indicating severe self hatred-" "You can go." Hotch cut her off.

Isabelle quickly ran to the parking lot, getting into the suv parked outside.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asked, "I'm going with you. Hotch said I could."

Spencer just nodded and started driving.

A few minutes into the drive he turned to Isabelle, "I know what it's like to be afraid of your own mind." He admitted.

Isabelle immediately faced him, "I'm not." She lied, she wasn't just trying to convince him but herself as well.

Isabelle hated feeling crazy, when her feeling controlled her rather than her controlling them.

"I've seen the way you've been reacting this whole case." He looked to her.

"Isa, honey, I know you."

authors note!

sorry for the short chapter, next one will be longer trust🤞also i'm finally done with my school year so more consistent updates are afoot!

[octoberobserver]

We're a Documentary, Not a Fucking Sitcom - WWDITS Fic

(Read on ao3 here)

I read ' 'The power dynamics seem so problematic. I mean, that’s his boss,' and this possessed me. Enjoy! 😉

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Guillermo blinked his eyes open, the ghost of Nandor’s cold, smooth lips still lingering on his own.

He had just kissed him. Right on the mouth, mid-sentence, on a random Tuesday night, three months after Guillermo became human again.

“I…Mas–Nan…”

The words died in his throat as his brain whirred like a computer with too many tabs open.

“I am your boss,” Nandor continued as if he had not heard him, beginning to pace the length of the Fancy Room. “You are my employee. It is frowned upon…problematic.”

That snapped Guillermo out of his stupor, frowning as he tried to make sense of his rambling.

“Okay, first of all, employees get paid. If anything, I was an unpaid labourer,” he held up his hand to stop himself from tracing his lips with the pad of his thumb.

“Second of all, you’re not my boss anymore anyway. I’m just your human roommate now, remember? I have a new job teaching self-defense down at the YMCA. I’m not your familiar. We’re equals. We made the deal that I would stay in this house once none of you treated me like shit anymore and you got a new familiar. You’re just too stubborn to let me help you pick a replacement.”

That stopped the vampire in his tracks, a petulant pout on his handsome face.

“That’s because they are all terrible, Guillermo! Francine didn’t know how I like my hair combed, and Jason did not do my buttons up correctly!”

“You didn’t give them a chance to learn!”

“You picked it up right away!”

“Well, not everyone can be me!”

“I know! That’s the problem!”

Somehow they had closed the distance between them and were right back where they started moments ago, mere inches from each other. Naturally, Guillermo’s eyes fell on those pale, alluring lips, but he dragged them back up to a safe spot, focussing on the crinkle between Nandor’s eyebrows from where his head was bent downwards.

“Third of all,” he forced out, his breath no doubt bouncing off his chin. “‘Problematic?’ Seriously? You brutally killed innocent people that I lured here every single week for the last thirteen years. And you’re worried about us having a…a ‘workplace kiss’ being problematic?”

Look. It wasn’t like it had never crossed his mind. Both kissing Nandor and the very morally bankrupt decision to feed random humans to a group of bloodthirsty vampires every week for his entire adult life. But ever since he was faced with directly killing an innocent person so he could live and being unable to do it, he was questioning himself and his choices more and more lately.

(The whole wanting to kiss his former Master thing was a constant, ongoing thing. And definitely not a recent development. But that was his business.)

“Well,” Nandor waved a hand, undeterred. “Darla said it is frowned upon.”

Guillermo squinted up at him.

“And who is Darla?”

“My spotter at the gym. She’s a grandma looking to strengthen her pelvic floor.”

“Ew, what—? No. Doesn’t matter,” he winced. “So, what would Darla think about you kissing someone ten seconds after they tell you they’re going on a date? Is that not ‘problematic?’”

Nandor scrunched up his nose.

“Well, it just happened, so how would I have time to tell—”

“Mierda,” he muttered under his breath, staring up at the ceiling for a God he couldn’t believe in anymore.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, Guillermo. I am sorry,” Nandor said in the ‘I’m trying to be diplomatic but am being a giant baby about it’ voice that he found hard to truly hate. “I just…thought that you had sworn off dating?”

A disbelieving laugh escaped his chest.

“So, what, you thought you’d kiss me in…protest?”

Something warm was fluttering around his abdomen as his heart beat what felt like a million times a second, his brain very unhelpfully replaying the kiss over and over in his head.

Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it, stop—

“I’m just confused,” Nandor was shrugging when he forced himself to focus. “You seemed uninterested in dating, and now you come in here and tell me not to wait up because you’re going out with some fucking gu—”

“And why is it you think I’d be uninterested in dating, Nandor? Would it be ‘cause the last boyfriend I had, you fucking cloned for yourself, and then sent him away so he could meet up with Freddie and have him cheat on me with himself?!”

The words echoed throughout the large room.

Nandor looked just like he did when he'd been slapped.

“Guiller—”

“No. Let’s talk about it,” he cut him off, shooting a glance at the nearest camera before glaring up at him. “I’m so sick, of never talking about things in this house. Just letting them revert back to the status quo. We’re a documentary, not a fucking sitcom,” he huffed, pointing a finger in his face, still standing so close he almost poked him.

“You turned your wife into my boyfriend, and that was really fucked up. You know, something actually ‘problematic.’”

He added extra sarcasm and generous bunny ears around the word, scorn and hurt rising within him from where it had laid dormant for over a year.

“You destroyed Marwa, and then my relationship, and you’ve never once taken responsibility for it. Or anything else you’ve ever done. So if you wanna talk about what’s ‘problematic,’ let’s start—”

“I changed her back.”

Guillermo froze.

“What?”

Nandor was busy staring at the red couch, murmuring so quietly that he almost didn’t hear him.

“I said I changed her back. I used my remaining wishes to…undo it all. Give her the life she deserves…without me. She’s in Washington now. Has gone back to school, last I heard.”

His heart skipped a beat as he digested that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well,” Nandor scoffed, stepping even closer, gaze locked back on him. “I might have if you hadn’t been so busy conspiring with Laszlo because you went behind my back and got Derek to turn you INTO A VAMPIRE. DEREK! FUCKING GUY.”

Guillermo’s blood began to boil, spilling like molten lava in his veins.

“Because YOU WERE NEVER GOING TO!” he exploded. “After YEARS of putting up with all of your shit, I had enough of waiting!”

Nandor’s jaw clenched.

“I was going to turn you, even though I wasn’t sure if it was right for you, but you abandoned me for London!”

“Laszlo locked me in a coffin and shipped me to London like a giant FedEx package! I had literally zero control over that!” Guillermo shot back.

“Well,” Nandor cast his eyes around the room for an answer and grinned humorlessly when he found one. “You didn’t look for me.”

Oh, hell no.

“Yes, I did! But I had no way of contacting you,” Guillermo spat. “I had Nadja reach out through the ether and said she couldn’t find you, that you were blocking her somehow. So, yeah. It wasn’t like you were looking for me, either!”

His chest was heaving like an overwhelmed Victorian maiden whilst Nandor was as still as a statue, but he didn’t care.

Finally. Finally he was airing his grievances. After all this time. Years and years of pent-up anger and hurt and resentment, they were finally talking about it all. And God, it felt amaz—

“I was mad at you when you didn’t meet me on that platform…you broke my heart.”

Those words turned his molten blood to ice.

But that didn’t stop his own words from tumbling out of his mouth anyway.

“Yeah, well. You broke mine first.”

Their eyes met.

Silence engulfed the room.

“That’s a lot of information to get in thirty seconds.”

His head whirled around to find Colin Robinson staring at them from the doorway.

“This is a private conversation, Colin Robinson,” Nandor replied, his gaze still burning a hole into Guillermo. “Leave. Now.”

“Right. Private,” Colin retorted with his usual deadpan tone, gesturing to the cameras. “Whatever. Just fuck already. It’s faster. Especially the way Nandor does it.”

They listened to his retreating steps for a beat, Nandor cursing him under his breath.

“Did he quote Friends?” Guillermo gaped after him, realising it was in vain when he remembered who he was asking, though he could swear he saw one of the camera crew quietly nodding.

“Do not change the subject, Guillermo,” Nandor drew him back in, his dark gaze unwavering. “What did you mean when you said I broke your heart first?”

They don’t call him ‘The Relentless’ for nothin’.

“Come on,” he cleared his throat, his heart firmly lodged there as he tried to step around him. “We don’t have to do this. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yes, it does, and yes, we do,” his hand shot out inhumanly fast and held him in place by the wrist, firmly but not something he couldn’t break from. “You wanted to talk, so talk. Please.”

What were you saying about pent-up feelings, again?

“You,” he took a shaky breath, forcing himself to stand his ground. “You…have to know how I…how I’ve felt all these years. I know you’re not that dumb.”

Nandor’s lips parted, but Guillermo kept going, words flowing from him like a burst dam.

“Every cruel word, every dismissal, every time you rebuffed my hugs or compliments or belittled me or my accomplishments…it was death by a thousand cuts. Because I fuckin’ loved you anyway.”

A bitter laugh escaped him as tears stung his eyes.

“Huh. Now that’s problematic.”

The silence was deafening.

Nandor had yet to move an inch, not even to blink.

Well, you’ve done in now, de la Cruz. And even managed to reference a Taylor Swift song. Bravo.

Seconds ticked into nearly a minute, and Guillermo was really starting to get freaked ou—

“‘Loved…’” came a raspy voice, barely above a whisper. “...as in past tense?”

He stared at the hand that was still clasping his wrist, right over his hummingbird pulse point and thought, fuck it.

“Love. I love you, Nandor. I always have. And I meant it when I said I was gonna be right here by your side. Even…even if it’s just as your friend and roommate. Because that’s what love means.”

He had done a lot of brave things in his life. Had taken on and killed dozens of vampires, faced witches, zombies and werewolves without batting an eye, and had emo bangs way past 2012, but Guillermo de la Cruz had never felt true bravery until this exact moment.

He watched as Nandor’s face crumpled like creepy paper, his eyes squeezing shut as he took in a deep breath he didn’t need and mumbled to himself.

“Floating through the cold, dark universe like a little grain of furry sand.”

“...what?”

Those large, dark eyes that he loved so much popped open, and he almost gasped at their intensity.

“I…I once thought I was completely alone in this world, Guillermo. Without someone to love or love me. But I’m realising now that that hasn’t been true for a long time, has it?”

Guillermo swallowed the lump in his throat.

He shook his head.

Slowly, a small smile spread on Nandor’s face, his thumb brushing against the thin skin of his wrist.

“And it hasn’t for you either, you know.”

Guillermo felt his brow furrow.

“Wha—”

Cold, soft lips covered his for the second time that night. Heart hammering against his ribcage, he hurried to kiss back this time, leaning up on his tip-toes and gently trailing his tongue along Nandor’s bottom lip.

The kiss deepened as he opened his mouth, the corner of one of his fangs brushing against Guillermo’s tongue and sending a thrill through his entire body. They gripped each other, on the edge of frantic.

“That is why I kissed you, Guillermo,” Nandor murmured, leaning back to press his face into his jaw, peppering little pecks there. “I love you too. But I was too dumb to acknowledge it. Until I thought I was losing you again.”

Shock flowed through Guillermo at both confessions, gripping the back of his neck to pull him further down into him, arousal sparking in his gut as a large hand clutched his hip and pulled them flush together, covering his mouth with his carefully but passionately.

Over six feet of solid muscle draped over him like an awning, and he had never felt more in tune with his own body before, letting himself get lost in the sensation.

Dios mio.

After a few seconds, minutes, or several years, his heart squeezed on the bridge of pain, his head spinning a little, his lips growing numb.

Breaking for air, he gasped, reminding both Nandor and himself, “B-Breathe, I-I need to breathe.”

Smiling apologetically, Nandor’s giant hand cupped his cheek, gaze boring into him.

“I know I’m not your boss anymore, Guillermo. But I would still like it very much if…if you kept your post as my heartguard.”

Now he was breathless for a whole different reason.

Beaming, his eyes stinging again, he brought his hand up and linked their fingers.

“Okay. Only if you’re mine too, though.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

Somewhere in the depths of the house, they heard Nadja let out a loud gag, followed quickly by, “Give it to him, good, Gizmo, and shut up already!”

Face on fire, he turned to him, leaning back in.

They still had a million and one things to talk about and work through. Obviously. Issues like theirs—problematic or otherwise—didn’t disappear with one, two, or even three admittedly fantastic kisses. But for now, their roommates had a point.

“Fucking vampires,” Guillermo chuckled.

“No,” Nandor replied with a sharp grin. “There’s just one vampire to fuck. Me."

Groaning at the dumb pun, Guillermo allowed himself to be kissed deeply and thoroughly, winding his hand into the silky, dark hair he adored and tugging.

It was as Nandor let out a quiet mewl (that he was definitely filing away for later) that he remembered the cameras. And the other people in the room. And his date.

“Wait, sorry,” he broke the kiss, his mouth already raw from beard burn and loving it before he turned to the crew.

“Can we have some privacy, guys? Please? And here, take my phone and text my date that I’m sorry I won’t make it, but he seems like a good guy, and I hope he meets someone else.”

He watched as the crewmember closest to him just barely caught his phone while the rest of the team just gaped at them, frozen in place, until a dark shadow cast over the room.

“He asked nicely,” Nandor said, his voice an octave lower than usual. “Do not make me ask not nicely.”

Not needing to be told twice, the crew scrambled to vacate the room, lugging their cameras and equipment behind them as Nandor reeled Guillermo back in, pushing him gently against the wall and cradling his head.

“Out, out!” he shooed over his shoulder, kissing along his jugular, his sharp fangs lightly scraping his skin and making him shiver. “We are a documentary, not a fucking porno!”

“No, save that for the honeymoon, old chap,” Laszlo’s muffled voice wafted from above. “And, if you need any pointers, let me know!”

[xsweetcatastrophe]

You Broke Me First

Part 12

this is my new favorite picture fyi

As you get older you learn you can't take back your words or your actions. You learn it's important to be careful what you say or how you act when you're angry in the moment. Hurtful words can't be taken back, and actions can't be reversed.

Zoe decided to learn that the hard way.

"He SQUEEZED my ARM" Zoe yelled dramatically, as she took a sip of her 3rd... or 5th? tequila soda.

Upon Cillian leaving, Zoe called her best friend, Dana, and invited her over. Dana brought over tequila. After 2 drinks, Zoe told Dana everything. EVERYTHING. Dana now knew the arrangement; everything she wasn't supposed to know. Zoe knew she shouldn't have told her. She knew the implications and how difficult this could make things if Dana told people.

But drunk Zoe didn't care. Drunk Zoe was angry and had enough.

"That's the reaction my dad gave me when my dog died" Dana said, laying on the couch with her drink on her chest. "Hey, can you turn that fan off? the spinning is making me nauseous"

Zoe looked at the fan in the corner, unplugged. "It's not on"

"oh fuck" Dana said, covering her eyes. "I think we drank too much"

"Who cares, LOOK AT MY LIFE" Zoe yelled, motioning to the window where the paparazzi once stood to get pictures of her and Cillian. "Where are they now? do you think they're out there?" She said, stumbling back towards Dana on the couch who was now sitting up.

"sssssswhat are you gonna do, I still can't believe you're not getting paid for this" Dana replied, pausing in the middle of the sentence to hiccup.

Zoe downed the rest of her drink in one gulp and slammed the glass down on the coffee table. "Fuck it. Fuck him. He should be lucky - LUCKY i agreed to this"

"You tried so hard to make it work and feel real. You even started a show with him"

"I STARTED A SHOWWWWW WITH HIM!!!!!" Zoe yelled back. "THAT'S COMMITMENT!!!!!"

"You wanna go out? lets go outttt I wanna go out" Dana said standing up, wobbling towards the front door.

"No I wanna stay here, I don't wanna put on real clothes" Zoe said, pouting.

"Then lets have fun already and stop complaining about men they all suck" Dana said, climbing on top of the coffee table. Zoe climbed on after her with the tequila bottle in her hand. She took a swig of it and passed it to Dana. "To girls with good friends"

Dana grabbed the bottle and took a swig as well. After swallowing and cringing, she added "and to girls who aren't scared of breaking NDA's"

An hour later, the girls were dancing around the living room to Spite by Charlotte Sands. The music was blaring and the windows were opened. The downstairs neighbor was hitting the ceiling with a broomstick, annoyed with the noise at such a late hour. The girls didn't hear the bangs, they carried on with their dancing and singing.

They eventually (unfortunately) made their way out of apartment, stumbling down the street to the dive bar on the corner.

They spilled into the door, laughing and holding onto one another.

They were blackout at this point; they've become the group of girls that are so drunk you would roll your eyes at them and stay far away. "They're obnoxious, so sloppy" you would tell your friends, giving them dirty looks. "Hate to be the person who has to deal with getting them home"

and boy, would you be right.

Zoe, finding her liquid courage and sassiness on a high level, took out her phone and decided to facetime Cillian. It was 2:40am, the bar was calling last call, people were staring to head home, but not Zoe. She wanted to stir the pot.

After about 5 rings, he answered. "Why... hello?" He said, visibly rubbing his eyes. He was in bed, confused why she was facetiming him at such an hour.

"Yea I just wanted to let you know that i'm done" Zoe said loudly, holding the phone too close to her face.

"Done with what - where are you?" He said, squinting.

"I'm done with this pretending thing we're doing, Cillian" Zoe said louder.

"SHHHHH Stop yelling! where are you? are you okay? who are you with?" Cillian said, sitting up.

"I'm with Dana. She's my best friend. She has black hair. And green eyes. and looooooooves Adele and one time, she peed her pants on her way home from work. But you wouldn't know that because you're a BAD. FAKE. BOYFRIEND" Zoe continued. "See, SHEEEEE came with me to the dive bar on the corner by my house you didn't want to go to - you wanna say hi, DANA COME HERE" She yelled off camera.

"Zoe NO. STOP" Cillian said, frustrated. He got out of bed and pulled on sweatpants. "Don't move. Do you hear me? Don't leave." He said, hanging up the phone.

"Here she is - ugh, he hung up, HE'S SO RUDE" Zoe said, completely not hearing anything Cillian said. She had Dana next to her with a round of drinks. They were the last ones in the bar, and the bartenders were starting to wipe down the bar and clean up for the night.

"You shouldn't be with a man who hangs up on you, it's 2024 we want better for ourselves, women's rights" Dana slurred, not making any sense. The bartenders listened from afar, making eyes with the security guards by the door. They were tiny girls, they didn't think they would cause a problem, but they were extra aware of them and how drunk they were.

About 15 minutes later, security escorted them out of the bar. They were now sitting on the curb, leaning on each other and trying to find the strength to stand up.

"Hey I don't feel good" Dana said, closing her eyes. "Call me an uber?" She said, handing Zoe her phone.

"Just sleep by me" Zoe said, standing up trying t pull up her friend. She paused when headlights appeared to her right, shining in her eyes when she turned her head to look. It looked like the car was coming right at her. It slowed to a stop closely to her, and heard the back door open as well as the front passenger window come down.

Suddenly, in front of her, Cillian appeared... looking angry. He was in sweatpants, slides, and a hoodie with the hood pulled up. He walked over to her, forcing a grin on his face but his eyes said otherwise.

"Hi baby" He choked out. Zoe stared at him, speechless.

"I came to get you" he said, putting his hands on her hips and squeezing. He stared her down, nostrils flaring and jaw clenched. If looks could kill, Zoe would be in trouble.

He was full on glaring at her at this point, and unfortunately for Zoe she was starting to see two of him.

"let's get you back to my house... now."

tags: @lau219 @wolfieellsworld  @shopgirl6us

[mediocreanomaly]

Cuz I’m a sucker for angst, what would happen if in your soulmate au, the reader rejects the boys because of all the pain they put reader through??

Authors Note: I'm so sorry for putting this one off I just didn't want to spoil pt.3 !!! now that I have it out of the way here's my hurt no comfort version of how pt.3 could have gone. Basically an alternative time line where you break these boys hearts :( (Please read the other parts for this to make sense)

For Context: Vashwood Soulmate AU Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Vashwood x Reader Soulmate Au, Angst

"I hate you" It's what comes out of your mouth. It's not your fault really, this is all too much too soon you didn't even know if you wanted soulmates, at least, not the kind that made your life a living hell since you were seven and yet here they were, stumbling into your clinic like this was acceptable or remotely normal.

"You...what?" the blonde ask. It's quiet, so quiet you'd almost miss it if it weren't for the kicked puppy expression he's currently wearing.

"Vash they don't mean that, I said mean shit too when we found out" Nick huffs. Vash and Nick huh? You almost wished he hadn't said the kicked puppies name, it'd make it easier to forget them when they left.

"No...No I do mean that" this gets both of their attentions, The dark haired man's brow furrows while Vash takes a sharp breath obviously steeling himself for whatever your about to say next.

"You two...you two made my life hell. I found out about you on my fucking birthday because I thought I got shot."

Vash winces at that.

"I had to be taken out of school because I cried all the time- hell I couldn't get out of bed! My parents had to look after me I nearly died myself from malnutrition because I couldn't stop screaming from how bad it all hurt!"

Nick shifts on his feet, squaring his shoulders, guarded as if it'll physically protect him from your onslaught of words.

"My dad left because he couldn't watch me suffer- my own mother prayed I would die. To be honest I kind of wanted to, I don't even know how I stayed sane, I don't laugh like I used to I don't- I hurt so fucking bad every day." your voice breaks.

You don't know what the two look like anymore, their forms get blotted out by the tears pooling in your eyes. It's good, you don't want to see their expressions anyways.

"I hate you! I wish you two would've just died!"

It's silent besides your own sobs that you try to muffle with your sleeve. If there was a god, he was a cruel one. One that played tricks and hurt for the hell of it. Because if there really was a god, why you? Why did you get the two people who hurt with abandon? Why did you have to be the one to send them away?

"We never meant to hurt you" Vash says softly, he's not crying. In fact when you glance up at him he's offering your a weary smile, it looks tired and fake.

"But you did"

Nick looks like he wants to say something but he reaches for his pack of cigarettes' instead, grabs one and lights it. Filling his lungs with a large inhale of nicotine. You can feel the burn when he holds his breath for too long.

"I'm sorry" the blond offers in a broken sort of tone, this bristles the other man but this too he doesn't comment on. He probably knows it's a losing battle anyways.

"I am too. Like I said, we're closed." You gesture to the door and that empty smile on Vash's face falters, you swear you see tears beginning to prick at his eyes too but it's too hard to tell with those yellow glasses.

He swallows the lump in his throat and nods slowly reaching for the door, he doesn't bother on waiting for his companion as he walks out shoulders lower than when he came in.

The man holding the cross watches you for a moment, expression hard to read under his dark shades.

"What" you say bitterly

"...He's right, we never meant to hurt you. Don't think we don't feel bad about it. I was mad too when I first met him but you shouldn't- you didn't even give us a chance"

"a chance? I've given you chances since I first felt the two of you. Every single day I gave you a chance, praying it'd be the last time I was shot or stabbed or fucking ripped apart." you snap back

He sets his lips in a firm line letting smoke curl up towards the ceiling.

"That "ripping" apart sensation was all me doll face. You want to be mad? Fine. But don't take it out on him, he likes to play martyr and I hate it just as much as you do but only because he loves too damn hard. Because he does love you, you get that right?"

It's your turn for your expression to sour. "Loves me? he doesn't even know me"

"Well that's just the type of person spikey is. He loves with abandon even if it get's him hurt, even if it ends in his own soulmate turning their nose up at him. If you want to be mad be mad at me."

"Why do you even care."

"Because we're your god damn soulmates! As much as you don't like it god or the universe or whatever the fuck picked us. Us. All three of us to be together"

"Well I guess god makes mistakes then huh."

He stills at that. He's angry, or defeated, or tired, you don't know which, or maybe its all three but there's something akin to recognition in his stance. You were right, he knows when to pick his battles.

"Yeah...guess so." he scoffs "Sorry 'bout the smoke."

You don't say anything when he opens the door to leave.

There's a pull, your soulmate connection telling you to follow, to beg them to come back but you shake your head. Maybe God makes mistakes but you won't.

***

It doesn't take Wolfwood long to find Vash. He's leaning against the clinic still, watching the stars. He doesn't really know what to say. He'd known this would happen, had known since they felt you pinch back all those months ago...but what can he say? The needle noggins optimism had rubbed off on him, he had forgotten that their lives were a tragedy, doomed by the narrative from the start.

"It's not your fault spikey so quit makin that face" Nick huffs, he wished he could say something kinder, more reassuring but he wasn't built for kindness. Vash knew that though, had felt it.

"Isn't it? I'm the one that's always diving in front of bullets, always getting hurt, letting myself get hurt I- I've hurt them so bad Nick. I don't deserve them, I don't deserve you either." Vash sniffles

Nick runs his tongue over the end of the cigarette in his mouth. He knew that if you had turned Vash down this would happen. He had a self deprecating streak like no other, not that he was one to talk. Nick reaches out to gently press his knuckles to the other mans temple.

"C'mon tongari none of that. These things take time, I nearly rung your neck too when I found out we were soulmates. 'sides, if we wanna play the guilt game I win by a landslide. The eye of Michael-"

"Nick-"

Wolfwood holds up his hand to finish "-The eye of Michael messed me up real bad blondie. That's not your fault or theirs. It's just a fact. So quit actin like this is black and white."

Vash quiets, he's not satisfied, but he won't pick at the wound more than he has to, not now at least.

"What do we do we do now?"

Nick eyes the other man and shrugs.

"What we always do. Keeping going and maybe...maybe one day we'll feel a pinch and know it's time to come back."

***

The next day they aren't in town, Gary tells you all about the two odd strangers who asked him about you last night. Ask if they ever made to the clinic.

"No they didn't but I closed early, must've missed them." you say

"Must've not been important then since they left so early, probably journalist" he chuckles, you just nod along.

"Yeah, probably."

You feel a pinch as you walk home, light on your right arm. You had caught a glance at Vash's- the blond mans left arm. Prosthetic, so the feeling must be from him. You don't pinch back.

There's no hurt after that, you move through your day painless, no bullets, no stabs, no pinches, no burns. No trace of you ever even having a soulmate.

Your life goes on like normal, although you have gained one new habit. Every night when you close the clinic, you double check to make sure the door is locked.

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 8

it’s hard to figure out where you fit in. 

it’s not so easy for me to make friends. i’m not cool like you.

you’re making it really hard for me to be mad at you right now.

it was my fault. i made a mess of it.

something dreadful is about to happen.

high school is the best your life was ever going to get.

you’re gonna leave here thinking that you need to worry about me, but you’re wrong.

we did so much fucked up shit out there. and yeah, maybe it was to survive. maybe. but i don’t think we deserved to.

if you’re done crying, i can tell you some stories.

you sound like you’re about to snap someone in half with that tongue of yours. 

what are you saying, i’m not innocent?

i don’t want to be something you have to learn to live with.

you know me. i don’t always listen.

you are my ghost story.

i know you don’t think you’re strong enough, but that’s not true.

it’s family. there’s always an explosion. 

someone like you, you seem serious. i’m not sure i’m ready for serious.

understand that i love you, but i will not be waiting up for you.

i spent a long time feeling like i wasn’t enough, and i don’t want to do that anymore.

what about you and me against the world? you and me in the world.

you think i’m lonely?

your job is cooler than mine.

stop smiling, i’m kicking your ass.

i’m chasing ghosts. long story.

you’re itching for a fight.

your neck, it’s bleeding.

there’s “packing away” and there’s “throwing away.”

this is what i get for disobeying your orders.

do you wanna die? answer me. do you wanna die?

you can’t put all your feelings in a box.

we’re actually back on the same side.

if what matters to you most is how other people see you, then you haven’t learned a damn thing.

you think pain is weakness?

why are you worried about a lack of trauma?

we're finally hot, at least according to me.

with them, it’s always two steps forward, then get stabbed in the back.

i crack myself open for 50 minutes, walk out feeling like i was hit by a bus.

i kissed someone. or, they kissed me.

i don’t want to keep on making the same mistakes.

you’re family. it’s what we do. we look out for each other.

are you going to come back?

i don’t have anywhere else to go. you made sure of that.

you were worth the wait.

i guess now i know all your secrets. 

don’t make it weird. i love you.

i’d hate for things to get messy again.

talk about your dumb luck.

it doesn’t matter. you always come first.

why is it your job to take those risks?

i’m saying, i love you. and i want you to quit. 

it was a big deal to me. you saved my life.

the truth is worth everything.

don’t settle for being half of anything. go out there and do something that allows you to be 100% you.

people go away. i don’t want to miss anyone else.

people go away. and it’s sad and it hurts. but you know, not everyone goes away forever. sometimes they come back.

i know what it’s like to be stuck inside the worst part of your life.

no offense, but you’re never the one getting left behind. you’re the one who leaves.

now it’s time for me to figure out who i am without you.

you are like, out of control. 

you know i’m really in love with you, right?

if today can be a good day, maybe tomorrow can, too. 

i already feel like a fool. i don’t need the rest of the world to know the joke.

everyone wants to save the world, they just disagree on how.

i wonder if anyone survived.

i’m not usually the “take it easy” type.

do you ever want something good to happen? a really good thing?

there are no answers here.

your type is losers.

one nightmare isn’t necessarily a reason for concern.

that’s not why i came. i’m only here for you, in case you needed me.

i have walked through fire every single day of my life because of you.

you're so hot when you talk shit like that.

it’s all a goddamn prison anyway.

you want a natural disaster? look no further than my life.

i haven’t felt it in years, and it feels wonderful. but it also feels fucking terrifying.

if i’m repressing things i don’t know about, i’m very okay with never figuring it out.

you should be ashamed.

i love you. and as long as i know you feel the same, i can say it enough for the both of us.

i feel a lot of things when i’m with you. happy, safe, a million other things that i can’t explain right now. but i do feel all of that for you.

i’m not pushing anyone away. i’m taking steps back.

home isn’t a place, it’s a people.

all you’ve got out there is your instincts.

love me anyway.

i don’t think good things are gonna happen to me anymore.

sometimes the hardest part is going home by yourself, being alone with all that quiet.

if it’s meant to be, they’ll find their way home.

no one gets under their daughter’s skin like a mom.

i’m not ashamed. i’m glad i’m alive, just like you are.

you’re a good person. you really don’t belong in this place.

life isn’t a science experiment. you can’t control your world forever.

do you ever get tired of winning? or being the fucking worst?

you two together, you are unstoppable.

so who’s gonna die today? you? or me?

hey, you’re back. are you back…?

i know you’re afraid of people leaving you.

i’m afraid that i’m never going to feel normal again.