#I do one thing right and three things go wrong

[shdwstorm]

I scanned my keycard, waiting patiently for the heavy doors of the base to unlock. My team waited behind me, glancing at the snowy wasteland around us for any threats. Two of the three moons orbiting Esclon-4 were full, so we could see everything around us.

The door buzzed as it unlocked and swung open. I puzzled at this, since no one had came onto the speaker to ask me for my ID number. But I had more pressing things to worry about, since as soon as the doors opened my team and I were met with my commanding officer and four armed security guards pointing guns at us. "Hands in the air! Show us your hands!" One of the guards shouted.

"Whoa whoa whoa! What the hell!" I yelled.

"Hands in the air!! I wont ask again!!!" The guard shouted back.

I obeyed, but I was still pissed. "Commander Cardason! What's going on!?" I demanded

"We have reason to believe that the shapeshifting alien we've been hunting has infiltrated your ranks. We will have to conduct close investigations on all of you to make sure you are who you say you are. In the meantime, you all will have to be detained."

"Nothing has infiltrated us! We haven't left each other's sight to make sure this didn't happen!" One of my team members pointed out.

"Really? Because we originally sent out five of you, and you've come back with six," Commander Cardason said, crossing his arms.

My team and I looked at each other in shock. Our heavy gear covered our faces, making it hard to tell who was who. How had we gotten this far and no one noticed the extra member!?!

We all complied with our Commander and were escorted into cells. We were all kept together in one cell, with two guards at the door. Commander Cardason scowled at us like we were all aliens, and I didn't blame him. He had no reason to think otherwise. "All of you, take off your helmets. Slowly," he ordered.

We complied, each of us removing our helmets and setting them at our feet. We looked at each other, trying to deduce for ourselves who the imposter was. Antonio, Kayden, Brian, Trinity, Gregory... wait. That was everyone on my team. What the--

Everyone else was coming to the same conclusion and was looking around with puzzled expressions. Everyone else except Cardason. His eyes were locked on me. "Captain Nathanial, you weren't assigned to this mission."

My heart fell out of my chest as everyone looked at me. "Wait wait wait!!! I'm human! I swear!!!"

"Guards, take him away," Cardason said with a sneer.

"WAIT WAIT WAIT!!! HOLD ON!!" I screamed as the guards grabbed me by the shoulders. "IM HUMAN!!! I SWEAR TO GOD IM HUMAN!!!" My cries fell on deaf ears as I was dragged out of the room.

There were six of us. There had always been six of us. And if I wasn't the alien, then who was? Unless Cardason had lied about there originally being five of us. But why would he lie...?

Unless.

With a furious lurch, I wrenched myself out of the guards' arms and burst back into the cell. "ITS CARDASON!!!" I screamed. "CARDASON'S THE ALIEN!!!"

I was tackled to the ground before I could do much else. Cardason looked down at me like I was a piece of filth stuck to the bottom of his boot, but my team had more mixed reactions. None of them believed me, though, so I had to prove it.

I wrenched one of my arms away from the guard and grabbed my gun off my hip. The real Cardason would have taken my weapons, but this fake clearly wasn't as cautious. If I was wrong... well, hopefully I didn't kill the real Cardason. So before anyone could stop me, I fired.

The shot didn't kill him, but I instantly knew I was right. He screeched in a way that no human could and his body started to contort and change, shedding its previous form. The guards quickly got off me and started firing at the alien. It shrieked in pain and raced out of the room, black blood drooling out of its wounds.

"Get it!!! Kill it!!!" I shouted, racing out of the room. The guards and my team wasted no time following me, and an alarm sounded throughout the compound. We followed the trail of blood but when we turned a corner, we saw the alien had taken a new form. It was massive, barely able to fit in the hallway, with six muscular limbs ending in cruel clawed hands. Four blood red eyes glared back at us, and it opened its mouth to show off every one of its sharp teeth.

"Fire!!!" I shouted, and my team wasted no time obeying. Our bullets just bounced off the alien's new form, and before we knew what was happening one of the guards was just a pile of bloody meat on the ground and the other was sliding down the alien's throat.

I... I'm not sure what happened next. The next thing I remembered was running down the hallway, listening to the roars chase after me. My heart pounded and my head ached. There was blood splattered on my face, and it wasn't mine. My team... were they dead? I couldn't remember. I think so. I must have hit my head at some point, so who knew how much time had passed. All I knew was that I was running, and I couldn't stop.

I ran through an open door and slammed it behind me. There was a table near the door, and I didn't hesitate to use it to barricade the door. I looked around desperately for supplies, and realized I was in the communications room. Yes! I could send out a broadcast to the Federation!! They could send help!

A sickening THUD came from the door, followed by an enraged roar. Fortunately the table held, but I knew it wouldn't be forever. I had to be fast.

"MAYDAY MAYDAY!!!" I screamed into the reciever, praying desperately that anyone could hear me. "Fort Broadstar has been compromised by an alien hostile!!! Requesting immediate backup!!!"

Before I could get a response, the door burst open and I was thrown to the ground. My head bounced painfully off the concrete floor and I saw stars. The alien loomed over me, pinning me under one of its massive claws.

"Nice try," it jeered. It's face morphed back into Commander Cardason's, with a cruel smirk. "You're a clever little human, aren't you. But not clever enough." More pressure was put on my chest, forcing the air out of my lungs. I think I heard one of my ribs crack. A small cry escaped my lips. My pain just made the alien grin wider, unnaturally wide.

The last thing I saw was its teeth flashing around my head.

You are a soldier in a team of 6 who have been sent to investigate shapeshifter sightings, but return to base after finding nothing. On your return, however, all 6 of you are detained and your commanding officer points out that there was only 5 members of your team when you left.

[arc-misadventures]

Friends AU side story: How does Jaune react to a Whit thanking him for the advice for his date with Fiona, and how are the Happy Huntresses dealing with a bubbly Fiona bragging about her date with Whit?

The New Hot Couple

Jaune was at the, Schnee Manor, he was waiting on, Whitely to come by to check on his progress on his new exercise regimes. But, he was tacking a while so, he decided to do some warmups by doing some simple pushups.

Jaune: One... Two... Three... Four... Fi...?

Whitely: Jaune!

Jaune: Whit, you're late, where were you? Ten... Eleven...

Whitely: Oh, sorry... I-I was just talking with, Fio.

Jaune: Oh? Fifteen... Fio? Sixteen... You mean, Fiona right? Seventeen...

Whitely: Yeah, I meant, Fiona. She calls me, Whit, so I call her, Fio. I thought she would be upset when I called her that, but she really likes it when I called her that!

Jaune: Forty... Pet names? Forty one... You better be careful, Whit. Forty two... You may be rushing into things, you don't want to jump down a hill only to realize you've jumped down into a gorge now do you? Forty eight...

Whitely: We're being slow. We don't want to rush things, sure we're at second base, but we're no where close to going to third base.

Jaune: Fifty...?! T-Third base? Whitely, you two have only gone on two dates, and you've already kissed her?!

Whitely: W-W-What!? We haven't kissed?! We haven't even held hands yet either!

Jaune: You haven't...?! Haa... Oh gods, Whitely... If you two haven't kissed yet that means your not even at first base!

Whitely: Wait, kissing is first base?

Jaune: Yes. Fifty two...

Whitely: T-Then what's third base?

Jaune: Fifty three... Second base is physical touching... Fifty four... Typically above the waist. Fifty five... Third base is physical touching, only this time it is below the waist. Fifty seven...

Whitely: B-Below the waist?!

Jaune: Or, more commonly know as getting laid. Fifty nine...

Whitely: Laid? What does that even mean...?!

Jaune: Sex, Whitely. Sixty one... Third base means you had sex. Sixty two...

Whitely: S-S-S-SEX?! W-We even haven't held hands yet?! Let alone kissed?! W-We're no where even close to having sex!?

Jaune: Sixty four... That's obvious, ya blushing virgin. Sixty five...

: SEX?! Whitely, what the hell are you talking about?!

Whitely: Ahh, it's nothing!

: Jaune! What is he talking about?!

Jaune face was mostly stuck on watching the ground as he was doing his push ups, but he didn't need to look up, and see who was emanating that cold icy rage.

Jaune: Seventy two... You better tell her, Whit. Seventy three... It won't hurt as much if you tell her yourself then it will if, Weiss finds out by accident. Seventy six...

Whitely: Okay... W-Weiss...?

Weiss: Yes?

Whitely: I... I have a... it's only been two dates... Does this count as having a girlfriend?

Weiss: A girlfriend?!

Jaune: Eighty... Ask her first if you're her boyfriend. Then you can say she's you're girlfriend. Eighty two... After the third date... Eighty three...

Weiss: Who is this 'girlfriend' you're talking about?

Whitely: Her name is, Fiona Thyme she's a sheep faunas, a huntress, a Happy Huntress actually, and she's she's really... She's really cute...

Weiss: What?! This is bullshit!

Whitely: What's bullshit about it?! I'm dating a sheep faunas, what's wrong with that?

Weiss: It's bullshit because my brother has a girlfriend, and my sister has a boyfriend, and I got nothing?!

Jaune: One hundred... Technically, Winter, and I aren't dating... One hundred, and one... I'm not sure what we are honestly. One hundred, and two...

Weiss: It still don't change the fact, they've had more action than than I've had!

Jaune: That's on you, but you don't hang out with other people to ask out on dates. Unless your secretly gay for, Ruby, or something. One hundred, and seven...

Weiss: Preposterous! I have no interest in the female form, much less, Ruby's! Although... Yang's on the other hand...?

Whitely: She's just a girl I have a crush on who I've asked out on a couple of dates. We actually have another date today this afternoon.

Weiss: You do?!

Jaune: You have another date? Then start your exercises! You need to work on building some muscles you twig! One hundred, and twenty five... And, count off out loud so I can here you!

Whitely: On it! O-One...

Weiss: ...

Whitely: T-Two...

Weiss: ...

Whitely: T-T-Three...?!

Weiss: Well, considering he never had to do any hard labour before... this is to be expected.

Jaune: Yeah, he's improved at least. One hundred, and thirty... He's capable of doing a pushup, before that... yeah. Hopefully he'll be something like me one day... One hundred, and thirty one... Granted I just keep upping the number of pushups I do because It's so easy. One hundred, and thirty...?!

: If it's so easy for you, then allow me to give you a challenge~!

Jaune: Huw? What are you planning to... GAH?!

Jaune grunted out in surprise as he felt a sudden weight upon on his back. He almost buckled, and fell when this sudden weight was placed upon him. He turned his head, and out of the corner of his eyes, and he saw what this sudden weight upon his back was, or more accurately: Who.

Jaune: What the...?! Winter, what are you doing?!

Winter: Giving you a challenged: Now start counting, Specialist Arc.

Jaune: Grr...! Yes, Ma'am! One... Two... Three... Four... Five... Six...

Whitely: Is this flirting?

Weiss: It's certainly looks like flirting... or, at least some kind of flirting?

Whitely: Do you think I could do this one day?

Weiss: Try to get at least one proper push up done, before you plan on picking up a girl, little brother.

Whitely: What? I could totally do it!

Weiss: Not unless you're as buff as, Jaune is. I mean look at him! He's doing push ups without sister on his back, and he's barely breaking a sweat!

Winter: What?! Are you taking this easy, Specialist Arc?!

Jaune: Twenty... No, Ma'am! Twenty one... Twenty two...

Winter: Then why isn't this more of a struggle for you, Specialist Arc?!

Jaune: Because, Ma'am. Twenty four... My grandfather told me that to be a, Huntsmen is to hold up the weight of the world on you! Twenty five... It's just...

Jaune turned his head to smile at, Winter.

Jaune: He never told me that the world would be so light~!

Winter: Eeep?!

A fierce blush spread across her face as she reeled back in shock.

Winter: W-Where do you get off saying something like that?!

Winter smacked, Jaune's head, startling him, and causing him to loose his balance, and drop down on his face.

Jaune: GAH?!

(Smash!)

Winter: Oh no?! Jaune?!

Whitely: Oh? That was smooth! I should remember that line...

Weiss: What?! Winter gets that kind of pick up line?! Where was this when he was flirting with me back in, Beacon?! This is totally unfair!

~~~

Back at the, Happy Huntresses 'secret' base a trio of, Huntresses watched as their resident faunas, a sheep faunas named, Fiona Thyme humming a too as she skipped about with a smile across her face.

RJM: ...

Fiona: Hmm~! Hmm~! Hmm~! Hm-Hmm~!

May: Sus?

Joanna: Sus.

May: Sus.

Robyn: Very sus.

The trio of huntresses walk towards their resident faunas, and fanned out, around her coming in from three separate angles of attack.

Fiona: Hmm~! Hmm~! Hmm...? Oh! Hey guys~! What's... what's up...?

The sheep faunas, lived up to their nature as she cowered under the gaze of three angry wolves staring down the defenseless little lamb.

Fiona: G-G-Guys...? W-W-What's wrong...?

May: She's happy...

Robyn: Too happy...

Fiona: Uhh...

Joanna: It reminds me of when, Robyn was happy...

May: Happy... Just as happy when, Jaune kissed her...

Joanna: But, even more so...

Fiona: Uhh...?

Robyn: That means she is happy because of something romantic...

May: Something romantic with that, Schnee boy.

Fiona: Uhh...?!

Joanna: But, the question remains then... Why is she so happy?

Robyn: A date...

May: Hmm?

Robyn: She's so happy, because she has a date~!

Fiona: UHHHHHHH?!

RJM: Tell what's going on!

Fiona: EEP?! I have a date! I have a date with, Whitely later today!

Robyn: I knew it!

May: She has a date?!

Joanna: Okay, lady spill the beans!

Fiona: H-He asked me on a date, a-and we're going to the carnival being held in, Unity Square! He's never been to a carnival before, s-so he asked me to go on a date with him to the carnival! A-And, I haven't gone to one in years, so I'm looking forward to this date with, Whitely!

Joanna: Okay... second question: Why, Whitely Schnee?

Fiona: Huw?

Robyn: Yeah, that's a good question. I still don't understand why your so... enamored with a, Schnee?

Fiona: Whitely! His name is Whitely!

May: She's defending him, and with such vitrail at that?

Joanna: She's fallen for him hard~!

Robyn: But, why? I mean... Whitely Schnee is the son of that bastard, Jacques Schnee? Why are you so interested in him?

Fiona: He may be, Jacques Schnee's son, but he is not his father! He may have been influenced by his father at first, but he is growing as a person, and is a kind, caring person. He wants to know what is afflicting the people of, Mantle so he, and his mother can help them. The SDC is getting ride of all the corruption it once had, and are now working to better help the people. And, Whitely is the heir apparent to the, SDC so he is making, Mantle, and Atlas a better place!

Fiona: He's kind, sweet, and a caring person! Sure I may be a bit older than him... but, he is more mature for his age! And, he's really cute little skinny twig~! I like, Whitely for who he is, not what he stands for! And, as angry as you, and others may be, I am going to keep dating him for as long as I wanted to!

Fiona: Besides... It's kinda nice to know that the worlds enemy of all the faunas son is dating a faunas... Honestly... I find that kinda hot~!

RJM: ...

Robyn: Fuck, she's got it bad...

Fiona: Huw?

Joanna: You got it bad for him girl~!

May: And, it is kinda hot that the enemy of all faunas son is dating one.

Robyn: Can you imagine it, the two of them get married, and the next head of the SDC is a faunas! Talking about pissing all over, Jacques' legacy!

Joanna: Oh gods that would be the peak of petty revenge!

May: The bastard would be rolling in his grave!

Fiona: A faunas as the head of the, SDC...? Having, Whitely's baby...? W-We're a little young for that guys!

May: Uhh, what?

Fiona: It's a little too fast for that too! I mean... I haven't held his hand yet, we haven't had our first kiss yet?! And, your recommend that I should have his babies?!

Joanna: N-No, Fiona! We're just saying how funny it would be if a faunas became the next head of the, SDC!

Fiona: But, Whitely is so cute~! Having a little mini version of him, with sheep ears... Oh, that would be so adorable~!

Fiona cupped her cheeks as a blush spread across her face as her mind ran wild with adorable little fantasies. Leaving the rest of the members of the, Happy Huntresses to look on in utter bewilderment.

RMJ: ...

May: Oh shit... she's gone baby crazy...

Joanna: Way to go, Robyn.

Robyn: Wha? Why are you blaming me?!

May: You are the one who lost it when you learned, Jaune was a father!

Robyn: N-No I did not.

Joanna: You two got into a heated debate with her on who would get his next kid!

Robyn: You heard that?!

May: EVERYONE DID?!

Robyn: Oh... Ohh shit...

///

I've done it, @lar-mx took a while, but I made a post with this photo! I even edited so his eyes would be blue!

Side note: What would be a good ship name for, Whitely x Fiona?

[brianquinnlvr]

𝐁𝐅𝐁, 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

SUMMARY you've had a crush on your best friends older brother for at least three years now. but he's always been so far out of reach that the thought of the two of you together just sounded wrong to others. for starters, he's three years older than you. and while that isn't a problem now that you're 19 and hes 22, which is not illegal, it was always a problem at the beginning of your crush. another bump in the road happens to be the fact that you're a pogue, and not just any pogue, john b routledge's twin sister. it wasn't necessarily his distaste for pogues though, it was more of a reputation thing. but after a party one night, maybe he can put his reputation aside.

rafe cameron x routledge!silly!reader 💌

au where he's not a murderer and he + sarah have a regular sibling relationship 🫡 also smau, along with irl

warnings: suggestive, slight age gap

series masterlist

you sat at the edge of your bed, scrolling on your phone as you awaited the arrival of the cameron siblings. you'd never been the type to be any form of secretive about a crush, in your eyes, there was other fish in the sea. if you're not madly in love with them, then rejection isn't that big of a deal. but rafe cameron rejecting you would be absolutely humiliating, considering you were so delusional about him that you qualified for a padded white room and possibly even a straight jacket. and well, now that you know he's aware of your crush on him, you are not looking forward to seeing him.

so as you hear the honking of rafe's truck, you jump slightly, pinching the bridge of your nose and exiting your room, making your way into the living room where your brother john b was. "farewell jb." you spoke. he sat up from his spot on the couch, leaning over to look out the window with furrowed eyebrows. "did sarah take rafe's truck?"

you sighed, sliding your converse on. "no, rafe's taking us." you grumbled, pulling on the laces of your shoes and tying them. "this is the only time i've ever dreaded seeing rafe cameron." john b chuckled. "good luck." 

as you stood up and gathered yourself, you turned to the door, calling behind you to your brother as you opened it. "thanks g. be back soon!" you didn't wait for a response as you exited the home. a smile erupted on your face as you made eye contact with sarah through the windsheild of rafe's truck, waving and jogging over to the vehicle.

you climbed in the back seat, sitting in the middle. "hi sar-bear." you said normally, in an effort to put up a front that you didn't care about the whole rafe knowing you like him thing. it wasn't really the fact of him knowing, but more of the fact that you seriously genuinely never had a chance.

but.. now that he knows, whats the harm in flirting? "hey beautiful." you said to rafe, to which he sighed through his nose. "hi yn." he grumbled, putting the car in reverse, his right hand going to the back of the passenger seat to help himself turn around, and god did he look good.

you were going to open your mouth to address his slutty actions, but you decided against it, silently sitting in the back of the truck until you pulled into the parking lot of the mall.

you and sarah unbuckled your seatbelts and began climbing out, ready to thank rafe for the ride but you paused as you noticed him getting out. "what are you doing?" you asked, eyebrows knitted together. he shrugged as you climbed out. "what? thought i was gonna drive all the way here just to drop you off? i need new swimming trunks anyways."

great. just what you needed. not only did you have to have an awkward car ride in the presence of the finest man alive being aware you thought he was the finest man alive, but now he'd be walking around the building with you—or at least you assumed, saying a silent prayer to yourself that he'd wander off alone.

he didn't, though. but he didn't really make his presence unbearable, either. he didn't say much—like at all. he did separate himself once or twice, also never really directly talking to you when he did choose to open his mouth. until sarah saw one of her old friends from highschool, that was. obviously, with you being a pogue, you did not go to the kook academy. so when sarah ran off to greet her friend that you'd never seen a day in your life, you stayed back, sipping on the auntie anne's lemonade with an h&m bag sitting in your hand, along with a bath and body works bag

last week you'd worked overtime at the wreck, so you figured you'd treat yourself with the extra money. though everything was insanely expensive these days, so you didn't get much. "so..." you mumbled at an attempt to break the silence. you were gonna follow up with something about the weather, or whatever it is people like rafe talk about. probably stockmarkets or something. but you couldn't help yourself from flirting just a little. i mean look at him, anyone who can control themselves around rafe cameron has the self control of a literal saint. "be honest, you only came in to be in my presence."

you wanted to say something a little more unsettling like 'hows that dick', but you managed to keep a bit of dignity. obviously you knew he was absolutely not there for you, but you did not expect him to play along. "you caught me." he said, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

you chuckled softly. "it's okay, don't be embarrassed. i'm used to guys being obsessed with me." you continued jokingly, eyes trained on his insanely beautiful face. "oh i'm the obsessed one?" he asked, his buff arms crossed over his chest as he tilted his head slightly, a very slight smirk on his lips now. "cus... if i recall correctly, you're the one who has sexual fantasies about me."

your cheeks burned bright red, not expecting him to bring up the message from earlier. you played it off by rolling your eyes, but it was clear to him that you were embarrassed. it gave him a sense of accomplishment. he couldn't explain it, but making you flustered felt nice in way.

thankfully, sarah walked up before the conversation could go any further and get any more awkward. "hey guys." she said with a smile. "sorry, old friend from highschool. what store next?"

you shrugged, knowing your budget was getting low. "theres a new shop over on the other end of the building. kie went recently, she said i'd love it." sarah smiled, beginning to walk in that direction, noticing the slight blush on your cheeks and the smug state rafe seemed to be in, but she chose to ignore it. "lets go then."

the walk to the shop was short, you and sarah talking about random things while rafe still followed silently behind, his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts. the moment you entered the store, you knew you'd be coming back. 

your eyes immediately landed on a pair of dark denim shorts with a pretty floral pattern embroidered on it that reminded you so much of adrianne lenker's album cover for songs and instrumentals. you rushed over to them. "oh my god i need these immediately." you looked at the size, seeing they were your size. "this is fate. hallelujah thank you god." you said in a more humerous manner, going to look at the price tag. your smile faltered a bit as you saw the price tag, and you sighed, placing them back on the shelf. "okay, nevermind, apparently god hates me."

you always struggled with money growing up, but rafe and sarah were apart of one of the richest families on the island. i mean, they lived in the tannyhill mansion for fucks sake. sarah was your best friend, so you knew she'd absolutely never judge you for your financial state being so different from her's, but you were still ashamed of it. you were so different from her in so many ways. and obviously you were even more embarrassed with rafe there, who you'd flirted with a mere 5 minutes ago. it wasn't getting you any closer to getting in his pants, thats for sure.

sarah giggled softly, picking them back up. "it's okay, i'll sugar mama you." she winked. you smiled at her. "well thank you, but i'm not letting you buy me a $32 pair of shorts." she dismissed you with her hand. "don't be silly, yn." sarah reached for her wallet, opening it, and her smile was the next to falter. "shit. i don't have enough cash left and i forgot my card on my desk. i promise i'll come back and get them when my car gets done later."

you were the one dismissing her with your hand now, making a "pssht." sound. "its okay sar, i don't need them. i'm serious. i'll come back and get them when my next paycheck hits." she sighed. "fine. but only because ward put me on a limit until i get a job anyways." 

you chuckled, making your way to the vinyl section of the store, shopping through. you caught a glimpse of rafe in the corner of your eye, unable to resist yourself from looking at him as you turned your head, not even trying to hide the staring. he was standing at the place the three of you just were, seemingly shopping through the woman's clothing right there. 

you sighed, assuming he probably had a girlfriend or something that he was shopping for. rafe absolutely never posted on social media, and he was also never really at any parties or bonfires anymore. he was so mysterious, and it unfortunately made him a million times hotter.

after a moment, you went back to shopping through the vinyls and conversating with sarah about some of the albums you'd found. it wasn't long until you were climbing back into the backseat of rafe's truck with sarah shotgun. once rafe climbed into the drivers seat, instead of immediately turning on the car like you'd expected, he turned to you and handed you a bag from the store earlier. you furrowed your eyebrows, grabbing the bag cautiously. "whats this?" 

he turned back and started the car, beginning to drive. "i bought you the shorts. now you don't have to spend your next paycheck on them." he shot you a smile through the rear-view mirror then just went on about his day. "well thank you." you said softly, looking inside of the bag. "hot and thoughtful. how am i your only current bitch? against your will, too."

he rolled his eyes, but you could see the small hint of a smile on his face. it was like he was purposely trying to make himself look more boyfriend material than he already did.

v speaks: hi this was lowkkkkk ass but its just cus its an intro part i'm sorry like i have nothing from a previous part to build off of or anything💔 ill be better #swear also im shaking in my boots i havent published any writing since 2023

[traumadumpwriter]

JJ Maybank X Reader ~ Relapse and a Half

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into drugs, but they're unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, sexual assault, violence

Part One

Part Two

Part Three:

After the confrontation at your house a night prior, JJ had only been able to see red, quickly pacing past your mum before making his way to the Chateau, kicking over some bins and verbally abusing some kids on his way.

He couldn't believe that you liked him. That you wanted to be with him. The thought stressed him out and made him regret doing whatever he'd done to get you to fall for him.

It wasn't that he didn't like you back. In fact it was quite the opposite - he'd been entirely obsessed with you ever since you'd arrived in the Outer Banks. His issue was that he'd seen up close just how damaged you were, just how sweet and kind you could be, just how much you deserved the world and everything in it - but not him. He wasn't good enough; not cool enough, not smart enough, not clean enough.

"Why him?" He thought. "Of everyone on this island, why him?"

You could've gone for Pope or John B or even one of the Kooks, at least they would treat you right. It might've killed him inside to see, but it would've been better than the pain he was feeling now, knowing that he'd been unintentionally hurting you this whole time, knowing that he was the one who bore the responsibility of your heart.

He stormed into John B's without stopping, going straight for the blunt in the ashtray and then storming back outside. From his behaviour, the Pogues feared for the worst and Kie's eyes were quickly tearing up, panic settling into her chest.

"She's okay, isn't she?" She followed JJ outside in a pleading tone, shortly followed by Pope and John B. "Please say she's okay."

JJ didn't answer, angrily sucking on the blunt and staring out at the sea, his mind racing.

"Answer me JJ! What's happened?" Kie demanded.

"Is she alright? Was she at home?" Pope questioned.

"JJ- fucking answer us man! Is she at the hospital? Is she- is she okay?" John B shouted.

JJ took another sharp drag on the blunt before solemnly answering.

"She's fine. I mean, she's not, but she's alive."

Kie shoved him with some frustration, her tears quickly drying up but her teeth gritting.

"Why the hell would you scare us like that? What happened?"

"We had an argument... I- You were right Kie. It is my fault."

She blinked incredulously, double taking as she tried to suss out what was wrong with the boy.

"What are you talking about?" She questioned angrily.

He took another sharp drag, even sharper this time, ran his hand through his hair and then turned to the Pogues with exasperation.

"Y/N likes me! And I've been a fucking idiot to not see it. I shouldn't have rubbed all those girls in her face. I didn't think she cared, but.. I guess she did."

"So you're saying that like it's a bad thing. I thought you liked her too." John B proclaimed in a confused tone, shooting a look to Pope who had also been aware of JJ's crush.

Kie was kicking herself for not picking up on that, wishing she’d known and she could’ve told you weeks ago - before you even had the chance to get depressed and pick up a pill again. But she didn’t focus on that thought for too long, more focused on your current wellbeing.

"I do, I just- We all know I'm a piece of shit, okay? I don't deserve someone like her. Hopefully she sees that now." JJ tutted, his eyes darting between each of the Pogues.

The uncertainty of his statement made them all nervous. 'Hopefully she sees that now' - what the hell did that mean?

"What do you mean? What did you do?" Kie hissed, her heart in her throat.

"Nothing! I was just rude. I guess I rejected her. Called her a junkie-"

Kie hit him again, seething with the boy at that point.

"What is wrong with you? Why the fuck would you do that?" She snapped, grabbing the blunt from his hand and throwing it onto the floor. "Go back there now and tell her you love her! She's probably crying her heart out right now."

JJ shook his head, thinking about picking up the blunt from the ground but not bothering. Weed wasn't strong enough to make him feel better anyway. He wanted to follow Kie's instruction, he wanted to hold you and tell you his truth, but he could think of too many reasons why not to - too many reasons why you were better off without him. The rejection may hurt now but you would get over it. You had plenty of other options. You would get sober again and you would be fine. His issue was that whether he was sober or not, he was never fine.

"Being with me would only fuck up her life more and you all know that! You should just convince her to like someone else, someone whose good for her. I can't do this." JJ protested.

"You're not a bad guy, man. Come on." John B said but JJ just shook his head again, walking towards his motorbike.

"So you're just gonna leave?" Pope scoffed as JJ got onto the bike.

"I told her to turn on her phone. Try calling her again." He said numbly before kick starting the bike and speeding off.

Kie groaned, unsurprised that when she called your phone moments later it didn't go through. She sat melancholically next to Pope, leaning on his shoulder whilst John B stressfully kicked a stick around.

"Well that's not what I was expecting." Pope sighed and then turned to Kie. "How long has Y/N been crushing on JJ exactly?"

She shrugged and shook her head.

"I don't know. Forever. But that doesn't matter anyway. I'm worried. It must've taken a lot for her to admit that she likes him, so she's either really manic or.."

"Really high." John B finished her sentence, not looking up from the ground.

"How much do you want to bet it's the second one?" Pope groaned.

"I just don't get why she didn't talk to me if JJ was upsetting her this much. She promised us she'd never use again. She's never broken a promise before." Kie sighed and then stood up. "I'm gonna go to hers. I'm annoyed but.. I'm more worried than anything. I wonder if her mum has clocked on yet… I’ll see you guys tomorrow."

"Love that woman but she's clueless so I doubt it." John B scoffed dryly. "See you tomorrow Kie."

Kie picked up her bike and rode it to your house, her mind racing with all the possibilities of what you could be doing.

"Most likely passed out or crying." She thought, her chest aching as she thought of your pain. You'd been through a lot together, and though she was beyond frustrated with your relapse, she wouldn't stop being your friend because of it.

When Kie eventually knocked on your door, your mum was surprised to open it to her.

"Isn't Y/N at yours? That's where she said she was going. JJ upset her quite a bit earlier." Your mum questioned and Kie was quick to catch on to the lie.

"Oh yeah- yeah she is. She's just so upset right now. She forgot some stuff and I said I would come and get it for her."

"You're so lovely Kie. What would she do without you?" Your mum smiled, letting her in.

When Kie went up to your bedroom and picked up a bag to strengthen her lie, she was concerned to see that your phone was still on your bed. Wherever you'd gone, you hadn't brought it. She turned on the phone in hope that it would give some clue as to where you could be, but all that came through were the missed calls and messages from the Pogues.

Kie couldn't let herself panic though. You were grown enough to look after yourself.

"Maybe she just went on a walk. Or a bike ride even. That's most likely. She probably just went to clear her head. I'll try again tomorrow." Kie thought to herself, but she took the phone anyway, hoping that when you came back you would have to come get it off her. She scrawled a note onto your mirror with an eyeliner from the side; "Got ur phone. P4L. - K"

The next day, Kie waited until the afternoon to leave her house, waiting for your knock on the door that never came. She decided that she would go back to your house and confront you there, but when she arrived there was no one inside. Your mum would be at work - that made sense - but after pounding on your door loud enough to wake you up from whatever slumber you might be in and getting no answer, she started to panic.

All of the worst possibilities sprung into her head - a horrific vision of you overdosed and alone, bent over the toilet and throwing up uncontrollably or even passed out and foaming at the mouth - so she quickly rushed to find the spare key under one of the many plant pots and slammed it into the door. She ran up the stairs, loudly repeating your name as she did, and paced into your room.

"Y/N, please be okay." She said before opening the door, her heart dropping when you weren't in the bed.

Nothing in the room had moved, not the crumpled up bedding, the pile of clothes in the corner nor the note on the mirror. You hadn't come back.

"Shit. Where the fuck is she?" She muttered to herself before pacing around the house, desperately searching for you but finding nothing. "Need to find her."

Now her mind raced to even darker corners. Perhaps you'd fallen into one of the many bodies of water on the island, high and uncoordinated, and drowned. Or maybe you'd crashed your bike into an oncoming vehicle. Maybe you'd passed out somewhere and someone had called an ambulance, or maybe you’d put yourself in danger without even realising it. She had no idea how spot on she was with the last prediction.

Kie had told Pope of her plan to force you to come to hers by keeping your phone, and all of the boys had assumed that the confrontation had been over and done with by that point, so they were confused when she turned up at the Chateau without you.

"Did you speak to YN?" JJ asked, springing up from his seat as soon as he spotted Kie.

He'd hardly slept, tossing around in his bed all night as he thought of all the things he wanted to say to you but couldn't. "It was better this way." He tried to convince himself "She's better off thinking I don't want her. Maybe she didn't even mean what she said. Maybe she was just high." He couldn't push the image of him holding you and loving you from his head though.

"No. She never came to mine." Kie huffed, wheeling her bike over with furrowed brows. "And before you ask - yes I went to hers, she's not there. Doesn't look like she's been home at all since I went there last night."

"So where is she?" John B questioned, his posture tightening.

"Do I look like I know?" Kie snapped. "I'm seriously worried."

"Shit." JJ hissed, instantly jumping into a panic. He was quick and erratic. "Okay. We should all split up and look for her. I'll check the marsh and the forest, Kie you should check figure eight, Pope you check town, and John B you take the boat and check the waters. Report back here in two hours."

He rushed towards his motorbike before anyone could even answer, but stopped in his tracks when Pope suggested a disheartening idea. It was an idea that had occurred to both John B and Kie as soon as JJ had announced his plan, though it didn’t surprise them that he didn’t think of it. He was someone who always lived in a somewhat state of denial.

"Don't you think one of us should check the hospital too? You know, just in case."

JJ swallowed, catching the lump in his throat before it could properly form, and nodded.

"Y-Yeah. You do that." He said without turning around. He wanted to argue - to say that the idea was ridiculous and a waste of time - but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. Pope might be right, and if he was... JJ had to cut his thoughts off before they got too hard to bare. He jumped onto his bike and sped off, heading straight to the marshes.

His search was obviously fruitless. He waded through knee high mud and lifted up heavy logs. He dug through thick bushes and climbed up trees. He shouted your name at the top of his lungs and prayed to God that you would appear.

But none of it worked.

By time the two hour mark had hit, he'd searched miles of forestry and worked up quite a sweat. Still, he wouldn't stop until he knew you were safe.

"Maybe one of the others have found her." He thought desperately to himself, jumping on his bike and heading back to the Chateau. They'd all tried to convince themselves with the same hopeful thought and been sorely disappointed when they eventually returned to their friends. JJ was the last to arrive.

"Any luck?" He shouted from his bike before he'd even got off it, springing across the lawn.

The rest of the Pogues were stood in a circle, also damp with sweat and breathing heavily. They looked upset which was understandable given the situation, but JJ felt his heart jump into his throat as he worried that the unimaginable had happened.

"Pope! She wasn't in the hospital, was she?" He asked with urgency, pacing over to the boy.

Pope was breathing heavily, still catching his breath from the run back to the Chateau.

"Pope!" JJ repeated in an almost shout, shaking his friends shoulders.

"No- No." Pope panted out.

"Chill, JJ. None of us had any luck." John B patted him on the back with a sympathetic look.

It didn't calm him down though. Instead he started to anxiously pace, running his hands through his hair and repeating to himself "Think, JJ. Think!"

"She might just be at someone's house. Who knows, she could be having a great time right now while we're thinking the worst." John B suggested which Kie rolled her eyes at.

"The only people she’d ever hang out with other than us are druggie degenerates, so it's not exactly great if she's with them either. Those people wouldn't care if she was on the floor foaming at the mouth."

"Well I don't know what you want me to suggest, Kie! We've looked everywhere else. Should we start banging on the doors of every junkie we know? Because that could take a while!"

As John B and Kie bickered, JJ continued his pacing, racking his mind for ideas until one shot into his head like a bullet.

"Wait-Wait. What did you just say?" He turned to his arguing friends.

"That she's probably with some drugged up degenerate?" John B answered in a sarcastic tone.

"That's it! She's probably at her dealers house. And I know only one scum bag who sells that prescription shit."

JJ ran back to his bike without saying another word, ignoring the questions from the Pogues as he kick started it and sped off - some hope finally in his mind though it was still mostly clouded by worry.

"Should we follow him?" Pope asked.

"Probably." Kie answered, heading towards the Twinkie with a sigh.

It was ten minutes later that JJ pulled up by Barry's house, carefully parking his bike around the corner so that the dealer wouldn't see him. They'd had their fair share of arguments already about JJ's dad and due to this JJ knew that he had a gun. It wouldn't do him any good to get caught on his property.

The blonde paced through the overgrown front lawn and almost jumped for joy when he saw your bike strewn lazily into one of the bushes - the signature ugly green paint instantly catching his eye. You would just be sat on the sofa smoking a joint or something. He could knock on the door, distract Barry without getting shot somehow and get you out of there in no time.

Then the sound of a large vehicle coming towards the house reached his ears, and he quickly ducked around the corner and crouched under one of the windows, anxious to not be caught by one of Barry's customers either. They typically weren't the most reasonable people after all. He was relieved with his decision when Rafe Cameron jumped out of the truck, music blaring and obnoxiously announcing himself as he knocked loudly on the front door.

JJ's ear pricked as he heard Barry's voice from inside, not having realised that the window on the wall above his head was open.

"Shit." The dealer tutted, followed by the sound of a zip. "Why now?"

Barry's breathing was heavy, like he'd been doing exercise, and it peaked JJ's curiosity. Was he working out whilst you watched from the sofa? That would be fucking weird. There was no way you would be lifting weights with him.

JJ listened carefully, waiting for the sound of the front door to open and the start of a passive aggressive conversation between the two men before he stood up and looked in the window. If either of them caught him, that would be a lot of trouble.

He wasn't at all prepared for what he saw through the glass though.

The sound of the zip suddenly made sense, and the heavy breathing. You were there, lying in an unmade bed, stripped naked and seemingly asleep. Even unconscious your face looked so sad and your body looked tired; thin, with random bruises scattered about your limbs and dirty looking hickies on your chest.

Had you let Barry do this? Surely not. Surely you had more self respect than that.

The thought of any other man touching you was enough to make JJ feel upset, let alone a scumbag dealer that he knew you would never have any real feelings for. But then it dawned onto him - that if you hadn't wanted Barry to have sex with you, that didn't make it any better. In fact, it made it a whole lot worse.

It meant that... you'd been tricked or forced or coerced in some way. It meant that you'd been raped. And maybe you didn't even know it. Maybe you were so knocked out that you would have no idea what Barry had done. Maybe he had drugged you on purpose so that he could do it.

JJ's blood boiled, so much so that he felt himself getting physically hotter, his teeth grinding and his fists clenching. He tapped on the window, hoping to get a response from you, but you stayed stiff and still, your eyes closed and your breathing shallow.

How much had you taken? Had he given you something too strong? Did the dealer even know if you were on the boundary of never waking up? Did he care? Either way, there was no way you could've rightfully consented to doing anything sexual with anyone. Not when you were clearly out cold.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." JJ hissed to himself, trying to quickly brainstorm a way to get you out of there without getting killed by Rafe or Barry.

He pulled out his phone and went to text John B before remembering that he'd ran out of data, cursing himself for not paying his bill once again. Then he decided to creep around the back and listen in through another window, hoping that he'd overhear something to help with his plan. All that he heard didn't serve to help though, in fact it made his rage all the more fiery and his brain even less able to come up with a good idea. The desperation was becoming torturous.

"Where's Y/L/N then? I can see her ugly ass bike out the front." Rafe asked in a mocking tone.

"She's in bed, sleeping. What's it to you country club?" Barry answered.

Rafe scoffed. "I caught you mid fuck didn't I? Sorry for being a cock block bro. Can't say I'm not jealous. Bet she's a total freak in the sheets."

JJ could practically hear the smug smirk on Barry's face.

"Yeah, tits like you've never seen. And pussy like a vice grip. You wanna come take a look? She's out cold."

"You already know my answer to that, bro." Rafe chuckled.

JJ's eyes widened, a deep panic settling into his chest. You would be mortified to know that Rafe Cameron had been ogling your exposed form, let alone the potential that Barry might actually let him sleep with you. He ran back around to the other window and banged on it one more time in hopes of waking you up before quickly ducking down again just as the two men entered the room. He couldn't stay down and listen to their crass remarks this time, he couldn't bare it. He had to cause a distraction.

With a rush of inspiration, he picked up a rock and lobbed it at Rafe's truck, creating a loud thud as it dented the exterior. The two degenerates stormed outside at that and JJ heard the sound of a gun clicking.

"What the fuck was that?" Barry muttered whilst Rafe angrily proclaimed "Something dented my ride!"

"If there's anybody out there, you better come out now!" He shouted, his voice echoing around the vacant lot of overgrown swampland.

Then right on cue, the Twinkie pulled around the corner, a very confused looking John B in the drivers seat with Kie and Pope sat behind him. Rafe scoffed something bigoted about the Pogues before stamping over to the van, knocking so hard on the window that he was almost punching it. JJ would've been glad for his friends arrival if not for the pistol in Barry's hand.

"You dented my fucking car. Get the fuck out here!" Rafe demanded as Kie slid open the door, pacing at him with a scowl.

"We didn't do shit to your car. Now where the fuck is Y/N?"

"Didn't do shit? Look at the dent! You're paying for this Kie - since I know you're the only one with any money."

"I'm not paying for something I didn't do. Now tell me where my friend is. I can see her bike there and I swear to god if either of you have hurt her-"

"What are you gonna do? Huh?" Rafe cut her off with an intimidating smirk, stepping so that he was inches from her face. "You can't do shit."

Pope jumped out of the van and quickly got in between them, his nostrils flaring as he eyed the sociopath. John B quickly jumped out too, though before he could open his mouth to say anything Barry had cocked the gun and pointed it at the trio.

"Y/N ain't here. She bought her pills and wondered off into the marsh. Left her bike behind. Now if you want to find her before the gators do, you lot best be on your way."

No one moved an inch, horrified by the revelation of Barry's statement.

"And you just let her go? What is wrong with you? She could be dead!" Pope hissed, an unexpected volume to his voice.

JJ could no longer sit and silently listen knowing that his friends were about to embark on another wild goose chase. You were there, mere feet away. This was their best opportunity to do something before anything else could happen to you.

Feeling that the dealer was sufficiently distracted, JJ decided to fully open the window and climb inside, struggling slightly with the old frame as he pushed it up. Once he was in, he instantly rushed to your side, gently shaking your shoulder in an attempt to wake you up again.

"Y/N it's me. We've got to go." He whispered, only getting a groan back from you.

Your hair was splayed messily around your face like the petals of a flower, making him think to the mornings he'd spent with you in the past. How he'd woken up beside you after a night of drinking and wanted to kiss you, but held himself back in fear that you would find it weird. That you would remind him that you were only friends with the occasional benefit. That you'd laugh in his face. If only he'd known how wrong he was.

Perhaps he didn't deserve you, but if being by yourself meant that you were going to do this to yourself... he would have to fight until the end of the earth to be with you.

In that moment, he regretted so many of his past actions. From the random girls he'd kissed in front of you to his recent rejection of you, he knew that once you were safe and awake he would do anything and everything to take it all back.

You would be his. No one else's... This could never happen again. No one other than him would touch you. He wouldn't allow it.

He looked around the room in a panic, picking up your shirt from the floor and lifting your head so that he could pull it over your body. Your body weight was resisting his actions, dead and heavy, but when he found your underwear and started to pull them up your legs, you finally flinched awake - even if it was only slightly.

"No Barry. Not again." You mumbled, lifting your leg to kick him away.

"It's me - JJ. We're gonna get you out of here." He said quietly, pulling your panties up so that you were covered and then slipping his arms underneath you to hoist you up bridal style.

Your eyes shot open at the sound of his voice, your heart jumping into your throat.

"JJ?" You whimpered, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"It's me baby. It's me." He repeated in a hushed tone. "You're safe now."

Then he heard the sound of the van starting outside and knew that he had to be faster. He looked around the room for a weapon and was pleased when he spotted a shotgun leant against the wardrobe, an idea springing into his head. He quickly put you back down on the bed.

"No. No. Don't leave me." You choked out, your breathing becoming rapid with panic. It broke JJ's heart to hear.

"I'll be two seconds. I promise you'll be okay." He mustered the softest tone that he could, stroking your face and placing a delicate kiss on your forehead before picking up the gun and charging out of the room.

As soon as you were out of his sight, his bubbling anger returned. No longer would he be able to put on a calm front, that time had ran out. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his skin went hot again, thinking of the vile words he'd overheard.

He pumped the gun one time, making sure it was loaded, and then slammed open the front door, quickly drawing the attention of the bickering degenerates outside. John B also quickly noticed his friend too, instantly stopping the Twinkie from reversing and jumping out again as he watched JJ in disbelief. The scene moved so quickly that none of the Pogue's were able to immediately process it.

With a cry of anger, JJ lifted the gun above his shoulder and then slammed the butt of it as hard as he could into Barry's head, knocking him out instantly. The dealer fell to the ground and dropped his own gun, and before Rafe could reach for it, JJ pressed the barrel to his chest. Rafe held his hands up in nervous surrender, though it didn't mean much.

"I should fucking kill you both!" JJ shouted. "You fucking piece of shit. You like girls when they're passed out? Huh? You like girls that can't say no?"

"Woah man. Chill. I didn't touch her." Rafe tried to calm him down, his eyes wide with fright. "It was all Barry. I just got here!"

At the realisation of what JJ had alluded to, the three other Pogues ran to join in the confrontation again. They felt sick at the idea that you might've been hurt - especially by two such unsavoury characters.

"Where is she?" Kie shouted, throwing punches into Rafe's side whilst Pope picked up Barry's pistol from the floor and kicked his body a few times.

"Inside." JJ answered through gritted teeth, staring Rafe down and struggling to not pull the trigger. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."

Rafe stumbled for a moment, swallowing before he collected himself and answered confidently "I didn't even touch her. Kill me and you’re going away for life! There’s not gonna be any of my DNA on Y/N, I can promise that! I’m not into passed out chicks. That’s all Barry.”

JJ didn’t move for a second, thinking on the boys words before lowering the gun slightly. He would make him suffer another time. In that moment, Barry deserved his attention much more.

"Get the fuck out of here." JJ eventually hissed.

Rafe did exactly that, backing away quickly to his truck and speeding off. The blonde turned his attention to Barry now, who was groaning as he slowly arose from the ground. Without hesitation, JJ bent down to his level and started to throw punches, blinded by fury and bloodlust. His nose cracked first, then his cheekbone, then his eye socket. JJ didn't know how long he'd been attacking him for when he felt John B's touch on his shoulder and heard his voice in his ear. The brunette had found you in the house and lifted you into the Twinkie during JJ’s raging, stood and watched for a moment and then decided to stop his friend, worried for your welfare despite enjoying the show very much.

"Come on JJ, that's enough."

Barry's face was an unrecognisable bloody mess, but he couldn't stop.

"J, you're gonna kill him."

That didn't matter.

"We need to get Y/N out of here. Let's go!"

The sound of your name did halt him. His knuckles were bruised and his chest was panting.

"He raped her, John B. She was passed out in there and naked when I found her!" He turned to his friend with a desperate expression. "We need to kill him."

"I know, I know. But he's not worth the prison sentence, J." John B struggled to bite back his own rage but managed to do so, speaking in a soft tone as he tried to calm his friend. "We'll make him suffer, don't you worry. But right now we need to go."

The blonde boy finally nodded in agreement, feeling somewhat dizzy from the adrenaline as he stood up and made his way to the Twinkie. Once he saw you inside, your half dressed body curled up on Kie's lap as you cried, the guilt came back to him in an agonising gut punch.

"This entire thing had been practically all his fault." Was all he could think. "From the relapse to this. He'd fucked you up without even trying."

He ignored his friends shouts as he paced back to his bike and said nothing as he rode off, deciding that he would go to a bar and drink his thoughts away for the night. As John B had said; it wasn't worth getting a prison sentence for murder, but that didn't mean he couldn't find some other random people to fight.

Hiiii I hope y’all enjoyed. I might make a part 4 depending on feedback. Stay safe!!

[selkie-on-land]

I always saw this quote ''trauma it's your fault but it's your responsibility to heal '' used to blame victims of male violence, especially in the militant/new generations. It goes usually with this bs ''if you don't work on healing you're just a an abuser and a predator exactly like men are ''. But it's the same rhetoric and literally same sentence that ''if you don't report/press charge on this abuser, you're just a an abuser and a predator exactly like men are. And if they abuse someone else, this on you not on them. '' and they usually goes hand in hand. Like every time I've seen someone said/wrote one, they always have already said the other one too. And it's always said in response to a woman testifying/open up on her abuse.

It goes hand in hands with this one too ''you're an abuser to share your abuse like that. You're literally traumatising and abusing everyone who is going to read you. You're not a feminist/victim you're just like any man. You should be ashamed of yourself and fix it before damaging every woman that you speak to. This is just trauma dumping and this is very wrong, this is an abuser tactic. ''

Until now, I was too emotional/triggered to think about that in an analysis process because I have a lot of cptsd from those types of response when I tried to talk about some of my abuse. And it deeply traumatized me to the point where I'm now unable to open up about any of my abuse except if the subject is already opened up. Even in therapy btw, because I'm deeply convinced that if I do I'm going to abuse my therapist.

To the point where I'm wondering if all three are not actually the same thing or part of the same thing. Maybe that thing has a name, but I can't find it. If you do, please, I would gladly know it!

I think that this is victim blaming but in a very specific manner, that seems to be different than the one usually spread, and maybe silencing victims voice but I don't know it feels like I'm missing something ? I thought about DARVO ? But darvo is used by an abuser on his victims not from an external source, right? Or maybe I don't know enough about it.

I received this type of comments/abuse from younger and my own generation (90s), never from an older one. And I mostly received this in space made for speaking out your abuse, like Call for testimonies for this or that violence, in every single ''feminist'' space ivl as irl.

Even now, here, I'm not comfortable with writing this down because I was always also assaulted when I was calling out this type of behaviour so it's very sensitive for me. It's been half an hour since I'm spiraling into anxiety to post or to delete everything. I know I shouldn't feel that way. I know that this is wrong. I'm wrong I know. But it's eating me from the inside. Why ? Why am I struggling like this, usually I don't, I don't even care of what people might think of what I wrote. But here I'm just freezing because I know, statically, it's absolutely certain that I'm going to be assaulted and abused if I click on the reblog button and I don't want to be assaulted or abused. So the only way to be sure I won't is to not post this. I hate myself for just such pity like I feel like I'm exactly what they refer to when they talk about victim personality that self pity etc. Oh fuck off Anna and post it anyway!

Edit : it lasted 4 hours. I had to put in private because I was (and still am) in a big anxiety attack and autistic meltdown due to the pressure and anxiety of waiting to see when the assault I'm waiting is going to happen. (Also waiting mode from my autism). I hope I will be able to let it that way and won't have to delete it. Also wish I could just let it be as all my other post. But obviously I'm too traumatized by women in ''feminist'' space for that.

crazy how trauma isn't your fault but it's your responsibility to heal.

[always-azriels-princess]

The Wrong Thing part two

Guysss i did it :) im so proud

Summary: the mate bond snaps, and you say the wrong thing

Part 1

Word Count: 1.4K

Azriel was avoiding you. You knew it, he knew it, the entire Inner Circle knew it. Feyre had tried to approach you a couple times to figure out what had happened, but you never answered the knocks on your door.

It was embarassing, and yet you completely understood why your mate didn't want you. The haunted look in his eyes that night appeared in your nightmares each night, and each one ended with you waking up, slicked with sweat and panting as if just finishing a marathon.

Bags had started to form under your eyes from the lack of sleep, and Azriel wasn't looking much better. You had overheard Rhys talking to Feyre on multiple occasions about how Azriel was getting unfocused during missions, sloppy during training, and quick to anger in simple conversations.

You knew you had to fix your mistake, but it was hard to think of how your mate would look at you, like he never wanted to see you again. And you didn't even blame him, you wouldn't want to see yourself either after what you had done.

"No."

The words hung around your neck, suffocating you every second of every day like a noose growing tighter and tighter. Rhys had also noticed your work as a diplomat for the Night Court was diminishing in its thoroughness.

Nuala knocked on your door, as you were deep in some paperwork updating the new peace treaty with Winter. "Come in," you called.

"Good afternoon miss," Nuala said as she walked in. "The High Lord would like to see you in his office."

You sighed, expecting something like this after on your and Azriel's actions in the past week. "Thank you Nuala, I'll be right there."

The chair scraped back after you stood up, shuffling the papers and stuffing them in a drawer.

Dread coiled in your gut as you made your way to the High Lord's office, worried he would make you confront what you had been trying so hard to hide from.

You knocked thrice quietly, hoping Rhys had maybe left to go get a snack and you could sneak back into your room. To no avail, you heard a faint "come in," and you took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

The breath you had previously took escaped you as you gazed over every inch of the shadowsinger, completely ignoring the High Lord sitting at his desk, smirking with his "I'm so amazing" face.

As you drank in the image of your mate, his shadows clung to him, wrapping around his body like a second skin, while others writhed around his feet, swarming and twisting in chaotic patterns. The tension in the room increased ten-fold and the air around Azriel began to darken, his very presence sucking in the light around him. His adam's apple bobbed as he traced your every curve, as if committing the image to memory.

You just stood in the doorway, both you and your mate frozen, staring at each other, before Rhys cleared his throat and you snapped out of your trance, breaking your eye contact with your mate. As you sat down on the opposite side of the couch Azriel was on,

"Now, you probably know why I called you in," Rhys explained. "This," he gestured wildly, waving his hands between you two, "needs to stop. Azriel, you've almost completely dropped your training schedule, and I have reports from your informants that you're missing their check-ins." He turned to you, "And you are three days behind on the paperwork for the Winter Court peace treaty renewal."

Rhys sighed and stood up, walking towards the door. Before exiting the room, he turned back and said, "I don't know what's going on with you two, and I'm not going to snoop through your heads to figure it out, but something clearly happened, so you can leave this room when you are back to normal." With a wave of his hand, the door closed behind him as he walked away, and you could hear the soft click of the lock turning, keeping you stuck in a room with male who wanted nothing to do with you.

The air in the room was thick, suffocating. The silence between you and Azriel seemed to stretch endlessly, like the tension before a storm. He sat on the couch across from you, his posture rigid, every muscle in his body taut, like he was ready to shadow away at any second.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him at first. The guilt gnawed at your insides, raw and jagged, but you forced yourself to breathe, slow and steady, to calm the racing in your chest. The room was too quiet, and yet every sound felt amplified. The way his shadows whispered, curling and slithering at his feet, the way his eyes seemed to burn into you from across the room.

He was avoiding you, but you were avoiding him too.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat, suffocating you before they even had a chance to leave your lips.

Azriel spoke first, his voice low and strained. "You don’t have to do this." It was almost a whisper, his words laced with pain and, not anger...no, something more vunerable. Insecurity.

"Do what?" you finally managed, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears. "Talk about it?"

His voice was low and strained. "You have already made your feelings very clear, and I would never try to force you into anything you don't want."

You sat up, confused. "Az, I never said I didn't want the bond. I was overjoyed when it snapped, but I....I panicked because I know that you deserve someone better than me."

His beautiful hazel eyes softened. "But...you said no. The bond snapped and you said no." His voice was getting louder and faster as he spoke. "You were right, you shouldn't want this bond, I'm broken and scarred, and you're so....so perfect."

An ache spread through your chest, as though all the fragile pieces of your heart had shattered at once, leaving sharp fragments to tear at your insides.

"Azriel," your voice cracked as tears filled your eyes. You shifted closer on the couch, until your legs were brushing against his. "I told you this that night, and I will tell you again. You. Are. Not. Weak. You are not broken, you are not scarred, you do not have a single flaw unless it is loving your family too much. I can never take back what I said that night, and I will replay that moment in my head for the rest of my life, praying to be able to go back in the past and change it. You have a such a pure heart, so do not think for one moment that you are not deserving of me. I am the one who doesn't deserve you." You finished your speech, a soft, uneven breath escaping you.

Azriel stared into your soul, his eyes softening with wonder and adoration. He smiled softly as he drew closer. When you felt his warm breath on your face, he murmured, "Why don't we just agree that we both deserve each other," and closed the distance between you. His lips met yours, and it was like the world fell away and the only thing that mattered was the male in front of you. His hand slid from your face to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. It was slow, unhurried, like you both had all the time in the world. You smiled against his lips, fingers threading through the dark strands of his hair as you leaned into him, deepening the kiss.

The taste of him, the feel of him, was overwhelming in the best way. It was like coming home, like a storm finally releasing the tension it had held for so long. You regretfully pulled away, resting your forehead against his. You were finally home.

The peace of the moment was shattered as the door was thrown in, what seemed to be the entire court of Velaris pushing themselves through. Cassian laughed deeply, sweeping Az off the couch and hugging him "Finally!" he exclaimed. Mor, who was bawling her eyes out, flung herself at you, knocking yourself back against the couch. "THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL!" You paused for a second, then laughed and hugged her back.

Rhys came in with Feyre on his arm, looking all too smug. "I told you Feyre darling, I'm a genius."

Feyre smacked him upside the head.

@lilah-asteria >3 ilsym you are my first tag ever and i'm so grateful for the support so thank youuuu

[whereubeenloca]

Leftovers

Part 4 of the Neighbor! Reader series! Table of contents

Summary: Carmy brings you leftover menu items as a thank you.

Tags: VERY slow burn, Awkward flirting

Word Count: 1069

a/n- thank you all for the support! I'm happy yall are digging my silly little stories :)

You realize you don’t know a lot about your upstairs neighbor. 

Well, you know his name - Carmen, but it’s not like you talk. You know he works late and wakes up early, you know he smokes based on the collection of cigarette butts that suddenly appeared on your shared stoop after he moved in. Other than that? Nothing, nada, zilch. 

This is to say, you were incredibly surprised when you saw his name pop up on your phone. 

“You around?”

Yeah, you had his number, but save for the initial “hi” text the thread had remained silent. It’s almost embarrassing how quick you are to type back. 

“Yeah, why?” 

He doesn’t respond but you hear him moving around upstairs. Heavy footsteps move from one corner of the ceiling to the other, followed by the slam of a door. Before you know it, he’s knocking at your door. You’re quick to open it, shooting him a confused look. He stares back, arms full of small deli containers.

“Hi.” He says curtly, shifting the containers in his arms. “You uh- eat meat?”

You must have made some kind of face at him, because he looks down at the containers and back to you. 

“So, no…?” He asks tentatively, you finally snap out of it. 

Your face flushes hot with embarrassment, “No- well- yes. I eat meat.” You say simply, looking him over again. “But… what?” You ask, gesturing to the containers vaguely. 

Suddenly he’s aware of how odd this looks. His cheeks go red as he clears his throat. 

“I own a restaurant.” He says a little too fast, as if his statement explains anything. 

You must still look confused because he tries again. 

“Was trying out some new stuff for the menu. Uh… lots of leftovers.” He clears his throat as he shifts his weight. “As a thank you for the door thing.” He explains. 

You nod at that, he blinks back. 

“So… can I…?” He asks, readjusting the containers in his arms. 

“Oh- yeah of course. Please.” You stutter, scrambling to the side to let him in. 

“Sorry, it’s a mess.” You huff, picking up things as you move through your living area. “Kitchen’s over there.” You say, pointing to your left. 

“Cleaner than mine.” He responds, eyes scanning your apartment before he turns into your kitchen. 

Kitchen was a strong word for it. Along the far wall sits a row of sad looking cabinets, a fridge and a stove. Carmy’s shoes squeak against the poorly installed linoleum floors as he gently dumps his containers onto the small table in the center of the room. You watch as he fusses over them, arranging them into a line. 

“What kind of restaurant do you have?” You ask, looking at the containers. You can’t really tell what any of this stuff actually is. Each container is adorned with its own set of green labels, one with a date the other with its name. 

“It's a fine-dining, chaos menu, full service experience.” He rattles off before meeting your confused gaze. 

He clears his throat “Uh… a little bit of everything.” He corrects. 

You lean your palms into the table to inspect the food further. You gesture to the array of tupperware between the two of you, circling your palm around the three deli containers. “What’d you bring?” 

He points to the smallest container. “Mango chutney, pureed.” He says as he picks up another container and places it on top, tapping his finger on the lid. “Goes with the cod. And uh…bucatini in a bolognese sauce. There’s pork and cherry in it. Still working on that one.” He explains, poking the lid at the end of his sentence. 

“Sounds really good actually.” You hum in response, shifting your weight with a smile. “You didn’t have to do all this though, Carmen.”

“Carmy.” He quickly corrects. 

You furrow your brows. “You said your name was Carmen.” You say, confused. “Right? Have I been calling you the wrong name this whole time?” 

“No- no.” He interjects. “I just prefer Carmy. My uh. My friends call me that.” He clears his throat, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. Carmy’s cheeks go pink as he quickly busies himself with a scratch on the surface, dragging the nail of his thumb into it over and over.

You feel your cheeks flush a bit at the word friend. When did that happen? “Well. Thanks, Carmy.” You say softly, testing the nickname. 

His eyes flick to yours again, a boyish smile on his face. “Yeah, f’course. I mean, if anything you’re doing me a favor.” 

“Yeah?” You laugh in response. 

“Oh yeah.” Carmy laughs back, straightening out his shoulders. “I’ve got all kinds of stuff up there, there’s no way I can go through it all.” 

“Well I’m glad I could help.” You smile back.”I’m excited to try it later.” 

He hums softly as the conversation peters out. The two of you stand there for a second, side by side soaking in one another. You can feel him standing next to you and suddenly you become more aware of your own body. Do you always stand like this? Are you slouching right now? Was he standing this close the whole time? Your mind buzzes with self-awareness you haven’t felt since middle school. You don’t really want him to leave but you can’t think of anything else to say. Before you can do anything, he drums his palms against the edge of the table before pushing off of it. 

“I should get going.” He says softly. 

“Oh- yeah of course.” You nod in response, “Thanks again for the food.” You smile as you walk him to the door. 

“Let me know what you think, yeah? Don’t hold back.” He says as he crosses the threshold into the hallway, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants as he faces you. 

“I’ll be thorough.” You joke. He laughs and you bite back a grin. 

Again you swear he’s lingering. He shifts his weight back onto his heels as his eyes stay on you. 

“See you around?” You ask, an attempt at a goodbye. 

“Yeah.” He looks at his shoes before taking a full step back. “See you.” Carmy raises his hand to you before disappearing up the stairs towards his apartment. 

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you shut the door.

[ilonii]

Roomies S.G.

✧ s.m - the everyday life of you and roommate satoru gojo

w.c - 1.1k

warnings. fem reader, use of "y/n" general fluff, mild nudity, flirtatious relationship, sarcasm, etc. brief mentions of aot with possible spoilers

an. first post in the jjk roomie series, really hope you guys enjoy.

Roommate Gojo who moved in with you four years ago and hasn’t stopped bothering ever you since.

Roommate Gojo who has absolutely no sense of personal space. If you’re anywhere within a five-foot radius, he’s right on top of you.

“Gojo please, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d really appreciated it if you backed off”

“No can do pretty”

“For the love of God.”

Roommate Gojo who is a bit of a…free spirit. He thinks his body is a masterpiece and should therefore, be shared with the world. He walks around with no shirt, pees with the door open, sleeps naked, certainly not with the door closed, leaves the bathroom in nothing but a towel and so much more.

Roommate Gojo who eats enough to feed a small army. You do the cooking; he does the eating. Meal preps that were supposed to last two weeks, don’t make it three days. Cakes and cookies you’ve baked for parties disappear overnight.

“Gojo, what happened to the four dozen cookies I made last night”

“Oh um, I ate them”

“ALL OF THEM?”

“Yeah”

“You didn’t see the note?”

“What note?”

“The one that said, “do not eat, naked for party””

“Oh, that’s what that little was, I accidently ate it”

“You ate it?”

“It was in the way of my cookies…”

“What is wrong with you.”

Roommate Gojo who never sleeps and makes sure you don't either.

“Gojo please, its so loud, turn it offfff”

Silence.

“Gojo? Hellloooo”

Of course, he was wearing those god forsaken headphones.

“GOJO TURN IT OFF”

“Hey wtf, what are you doing up? Its 3am, don’t you have work in the morning?”

“Well, I would be sleep, If your game wasn’t blaring through the walls keeping me awake all night”

“Oh, I didn’t know you could hear it, it doesn’t seem that loud to me”

“WELL, IT IS”

“Okay, I’ll turn it down, geez”

“And while you’re at it, go to bed, you’ve been awake for three days now”

“I can’t sleep”

Roommate Gojo who sometimes…crosses the line. Not in the way you might think. He’s never really done anything inappropriate to you, so you can't complain about that. But he’s just friendlier than a roommate probably should be.

“Cmon, its not a big deal”

“Gojo, you’re my friend, but even then, cuddling you to sleep? Doesn’t there seem like there should be a line somewhere?”

“You did it last week?”

“By accident! We fell asleep on the couch; it’s not that deep”

“Y/n please. That’s the best sleep I’ve had in literal YEARS”

“Gojo-”

“PLEASEEEE”

“Okay FINE, but we’re going to bed when I say so”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you”

Roommate Gojo who is a relationship saboteur. He swears every guy you meet isn’t good enough for you, or up to his ridiculous standards. He pesters and breaks you down, until you agree to let him meet the guy, and from that point forward, it’s a downhill battle.

“Gojo, what is wrong with you”

“What? If anything, you should be thanking me”

“THANKING YOU? That’s the third date you’ve RUINED this month alone”

“That guy was a piece of crap; he didn’t even compliment you when he walked in the door”

“Maybe because from the second he stepped foot on the porch you were barreling down his throat, you didn’t even give him a chance to speak!” “Well, if it was me, I wouldn’t have let a single thing stop me from complimenting my women”

“Well, it’s not you”

“But it could be”

“Gojo get out of my face”

Roommate Gojo who’s all bark and no bite. He swears up and down that he was women practically falling at his feet, yet you’ve never seen him go on a single date.

Roommate Gojo who now that you’ve think about it, hasn’t even talked to a single woman since he’s moved in.

“Gojo?”

“What’s up pretty”

“Are you gay?”

“Idk”

“So that’s not a no?”

“Well, it’s not a yes either”

“So, the windows open?”

“Probably not”

“But you said “idk””

“Because I can’t be sure”

“Why not”

“Because I’ve never been with, dated or even kissed a guy before”

“Well, I seriously doubt you’ve “been” with any women either, so how can you even be sure that you like them?”

“Because I like you”

“And now we’re done.”

“Goodnight pretty”

“Goodnight Gojo”

Roommate Gojo who’s defiantly not gay because he just confessed his feelings for you.

“What”

“I said I really like you”

“I really like you too Gojo? You say that all the time though, why are you being so serious about it now”

“No. I LIKE you, like Mikasa likes Eren. Btw are you all caught up on that or??”

“Yeah, and by gods I hope that kind of love never finds me”

“What? They were so great together”

“I mean yeah ideally but literally? No way. They spent their entire lives pinning for each-other, and dancing around the subject, so much so that she literally was forced to mourn him for the rest of her life AFTER having to chop is freaking head off”

“I mean yeah, but like, they still loved each other though”

“Obviously, but when you really think about it-”

“Okay, we’re getting off topic, I said, I REALLY like you”

“Well, I mean, I like you too but what am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Date me”

“Are you gonna ask?”

“Will you let me be your boyfriend?”

“Mmm we’ll see”

“OH CMON.”

border by @grungenglam

comment to be added to tag list!

[exuberantocean]

This.

OP wAs right that Trump 2025 will be different, but it isn't without hope.Everyone who isn't MAGA is going to need to get pragmatic and scrappy. Find GOP members that aren't MAGA (they still exist) and do what good we can with them. Division exists already in the GOP, sow more where possible. When things get bad - and they will - make sure you are vocal about how Trump's policies are causing the suffering. We have an election in 2026 and with a razor thin majority in the House already and a likely shit show presidency, we have a real can of a Dem win that year which will introduce both accountability to the White House and thrown a huge wrench in MAGA plans. But we can't do the ideological purity bullshit. Not every Dem candidate is going to match your beliefs 100%. We can't keep handing MAGA victories because candidate Jane Doe once supported logging in 1993 or whatever bullshit.

But, most importantly get involved. We need so much help and their are so many ways. Your town/city has committees that need members. The Dems need people to walk the streets or help organize. Hungry need to be fed, environmental organizations need your help more than ever. Immigrants need someone to speak for them and the Trans and greater LGBTQ IA+ community has many brilliant organizations that could use bolstering. Abortion clinics and comprehensive women's care is under seige. There is room for everyone to help. None of these choices are wrong. Pick one or two.

I am in the process of joining a local town committee, I have joined am the board of a local nature conservancy and I set up reoccurring payments with three nature organizations (they get paid everytime I get paid). All of this felt like it would be huge to accomplish. None of it actually was. Places like these are desperate for someone to lend a hand. (Also, the board will pay me $50/meeting, with each meeting being 1 hour, this will be the highest pay rate I have ever had. 😂)

The point is, doom scroll is not activism and doesn't help. Wringing you hands at home doesn't help. MAGA's success runs on your despair - on the idea that you will roll over and surrender for the next four years and beyond. Don't. Rise up.

I don't think I've brought this up before but it's how I've felt pretty much the entire election season and especially now: this is not going to be like 2016.

trump in 2016 was the president despite clearly not wanting it, not being prepared for it, and having limited influence over his cabinet (who also were constantly quitting because either they hit their limit of bullshit or still had a sense of shame), and he still did, like, all of the shit he did.

trump in 2025 has an axe to grind, has eliminated anyone who might so much as politely disagree with him, and has (with the help of the Heritage Foundation) had four years to plan out how he's going to accomplish his goals as quickly and efficiently as possible. I'm trying to be optimistic given how the H1B visa thing has already been going but also we had the richest loser in the world throw a Nazi salute so it's kind of hard to be optimistic about anything.

[sirxlla]

Such an Integral Piece

----------------‐-------------------------------

Warnings: Fluff

Prompt: introducing your cat to Dick's dog Haley (request: @runnergirl234 also I love this idea it's the cutest thing ever and I hope you also have a great day)

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

The idea of you both moving in together was obvious, most nights one of your guys's apartments was empty because you would sleep over with the other person. It wasn't entirely ideal because of the animals but both of you didn't want to move too quickly in your relationships. That was nearly a year ago before you knew he was Nightwing.

Now Richard was staying at whatever apartment was closest after patrol and unfortunately that meant it was usually his. Sleeping in an empty bed just felt wrong at this point.

"Why don't you just move in? You shouldn't have to drive so far after a long day of work, I know the traffic in the city is not great around this time. I mean it's never great." Dick rubbed your back as you both laid in bed together.

"You're sure?" You asked as you played with his silky soft fluffy hair.

"I mean it would help me keep an eye on you but if you don't want to I entirely understand, I don't want to pressure you into anything." He leaned into your soft touches, closing his eyes with a groan.

"I mean I've been meaning to get away from the other job for a while anyways, If we can figure something out I wouldn't mind moving." Absentmindedly staring at the ceiling in the almost pitch black room.

"You mean that weirdo, David? Is he still coming around?" He asks about the weirdo that used to work at your job that kept stalking you.

"No, I think you scared I'm off but I'm really tired of looking over my shoulder and hoping that he's not there."

"I can find you a job pretty easily I mean hell you could probably work with me if you wanted."

"Isn't that like conflict of interest?"

"Not if we are actually working."

"I'd be down." Haley jumping on the bed to curl into your side.

"Then you're moving in." Cuddling into your chest, his face squished against your boobs.

"I am moving in" You smiled as sleep started taking you.

It was a bit of a process going through everything that you had acquired over time. You had that apartment since you were 18 so there was a lot to go through. It took about a week but you were getting everything settled and moved into Dick's place.

Once everything was in it's rightful place at his apartment the last but most important piece was your cat Frodo. Frodo is very affectionate and loving.

"Oh, God. I'm nervous."

"It's okay, Honey. Haley's got her mask on and I've got a hold of her." He's almost 100% sure she won't do anything to her but he wants to be sure.

"Well, here goes nothing." You brought Frodo's carry case over to Haley to let her sniff him. Frodo started hissing as Haley got super excited and playful which prompted Dick to make her sit.

"Be gentle Haley." He said to the sweet pitbull that listenss to every word that came out of his mouth.

"I guess we'll just have to give them time." You stated to Dick. After about 20 minutes of him in the crate you decided to let him out. Dick told Haley to come sit on the couch with him and she very quickly listened being such a well-trained dog. Once everyone calm down they seemed to as well.

The three of you saw on the couch and watched a movie while Frodo decided to go explore the house. After about an hour Frodo came back and surprisingly curled up next to Haley. You were half asleep against chest so you didn't notice but he sure did, he took a photo and posted it on Snapchat with the caption "my little family" which was a photo of you laying on his chest and the animals cuddling together. This was all that he hoped for when he was so happy that everybody was getting along.

[cripplecharacters]

I’m working on a robot character, and I wanted to know if it’s at all inappropriate to have the character (named Blip, uses he/it pronouns) have the “robot equivalent” of a traumatic brain injury and acquired facial differences, if that makes sense?

As it’s planned right now, he has one broken “eye” (kind of a camera lens) that no longer processes visual input, a damaged antenna and internal processor that sometimes misreads incoming signals leading to confusion, and a staticky slur to his speech (its voice would otherwise sound like a generic Siri-type thing, but it occasionally breaks into static). It also has visible damage to the side of its face with the broken eye. (Not a dented-in head, though, because I have a feeling that would conjure up ableist caricatures of brain injuries and I want to avoid that).

I just want to check if any of that sounds offensive, or if you have input on how to represent these features better. Thank you!

Hey! I'll answer for the part related to the facial difference and leave the brain injury to other mods.

Honestly this sounds fine to me. Just on the basis of this being a robot character named Blip, which seems quite silly (positive) and I enjoy seeing characters with FDs who aren't dead-serious and joyless all the time. The fact that he's not human (or even too humanoid, from the description) also helps since a lot of the negative tropes specifically affect how real humans are seen, if you're portraying an anthropomorphized computer then that's just very different. I don't think anyone would see a real person without an eye and think of a robot which avoids the entire "ableds think it's normal to compare a burn survivor they saw in the grocery store to Freddy Krueger" problem, even if you do end up falling into a trope with this character.

Definitely a good call in avoiding the indented skull* since the way it's generally used is a caricature and a borderline dogwhistle at this point. If you want to show that there was some sort of injury on the side of Blip's head, you could give him a different colored-metal plate there (or whatever else it's made out of), or give it a shiny texture to contrast with the rest of him being matte, make the damaged part thicker, etc. If his eye was damaged and is camera-like, you could have the shutter not close, or not move, or otherwise work differently from the other one (that's how my own ptosis would translate into a robot character... I think).

*Craniotomy, craniectomy, congenital cranial conditions, these are all real things that real people have and live with, so this isn't to say that this is always a no-go, because it's not. However, one needs to be very careful and sensitive to represent it respectfully due to what I originally mentioned. I'd strongly advise going with a sensitivity reader if that's something anyone reading this would want to include in their writing or art, and this aspect should be taken under consideration from the starting concept of the character.

For last advice, I'd try to not describe him "broken" as a whole if you're trying to represent him as disabled, since the whole "disabled people are broken". Not that it's wrong to refer to a body part like a leg or an eye as broken if one wants to do that; I mean referring like that to the entire person (or robot). I mention it since it's a common thing when it comes to robot fiction etc. but might come off weird in the context of an obviously disabled one.

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza

Hello,

As the human brain is basically a computer and our brain injuries are basically damage to that computer that changes how to computer functions, having a robot character with a TBI is a fairly easy thing to do. Damage to a human's sensory cortex (part of the cerebrum, one of three main parts of the brain) can cause sensory symptoms like the ones you're describing. This damage would be in his equivalent of the parietal lobe, which uses the information provided by external senses to navigate and have spacial sense, the temporal lobe, which has the auditory cortex and also helps with processing visual input and doing things like speech and reading, or the optical lobe, which is responsible for visual processing. If you'd like your character to have a more human brain in structure, you can look into other abilities that might be affected. But you can also just design his brain however you want it to be designed and that works, too, since he has a reason for his brain not being accurate to a human's brain.

Slurred speech is definitely a symptom that can come of a traumatic brain injury, especially a brain injury to the temporal lobe, and what he has also kind of sounds like a stutter or maybe him trailing off, which can also be issues we get.

And yes, I agree with Sasza about the dented head, definitely a good thing to avoid. If you want, you could incorporate a metal plate implanted on his "skull," which is a medical treatment for certain types of skull injuries to prevent complications and also to give the skull a more normal shape, which is called a cranioplasty.

Everything sounds good on the traumatic brain injury front

Mod Aaron

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Hey, you.

If you're American, and you've been having a hard week egg for.. reasons -

I have something to say to the Americans.

Just remember.

They aren't immortal.

Nobility has lied for centuries. They told us they were placed on the throne by God - the rule of the king being the will of the Creator.

The French proved them wrong.

You are young. They are human. They will one day die.

And on the day they die - regardless of if hell is real or not - there will be a movement when they are laying on that death bed. They will feel their live slipping from their grasp.

And they will feel the fear.

The possiblity of eternal consequence.

They will fear what waiting for them on the other side. The one journey they cannot buy their way out of. The moment the bell tolls for thee.

And honestly, the thought brings me peace.

Trumo and Elon AREN'T demons - though it's so easy to think of them as so.

They are evil humans. And all humans die. Trump? He's 80. He's over three times my age. He's older than my grandmother. He eats McDonald's and Diet Coke like no one's business. Knock on wood I'm betting he's got ten years TOPS.

('I'll be the last president' - my ass. If you take a bad fall it's game over dude. You won't release your health records cause you're most likely due for a heart attack soon mfer. Your minions don't like your candy ass Junior enough to have him as a successor and Baron doesn't fucking care so realistically speaking whats your game plan here? 🤨 Elon's kids have too many daddy issues to take your place. You can't even use a sword. Napoleon would slay you where you fucking stand you pansy)

So if you've been struggling this week, I just wanted to remind you.

Black people won our civil rights without the support from the media, without online social networks, without the support from 90% of white people.

70 years ago, around when my grandma was born - I could not sit next a white person in school. If a white man was walking towards me on the street, I'd have to step into the gutter and let him pass. At risk of being actually killed by the whole town if not.

Nowadays in my city I could tell a white guy my age 'Fuck you!!' to your face. Middle finger and all. And they're not gonna put me in jail for it. No stranger is gonna jump in. The whole town isn't gonna care. If anything, people will just record.

That all happened in ONE generation.

So no matter what Trump does.

Remember. He's not immortal. He will die like we all do.

You're young. You'll have the rest of your life to reverse everything he's done.

That's the thing about personality cults. Once the personality is removed, the whole thing falls apart. And the personality in question is once again - an 80 year old who eats Big Macs and wears suits two sizes too large. A man who would probably get genuinely upset if you asked him to recite his 8 times tables.

If Trump dies in the next 10-20 years, before he turns 100, I'll be 35-45. a.k.a - my generation will be entering the older majority. Our generation will be the eldest and the most influencial. What then?

The Trumpettes won't have their leader for their personality cult so they'll have no one - not even their republican parents - to tell them who to think.

We'll be older, wiser. We'll teach our kids the signs. We'll tell them stories what to do, and invest pubic funds to conserve the history of our fight - to never be erased.

If you're scared this week, I understand.

But remember. We've fought harder with less - and we still won.

So keep your head up. Doom is the tool of the enemy. You keep going, you keep living, and you survive to tear down their legacy while the bastard spins in his grave.

Keep going. Keep your angry hearts and clenched fists. Hold on tight to your love and rage. And keep going.

That's what Hobie would want. That's what a Hobie is there to teach us.

Hope this helped someone, anyone, even if it was a little bit. If this helps you get through the day, or the next hour, with the smallest bit of hope - that's all I want.

Thanks for reading this far! Here's Hobie :)

--------------------------------------------------

And bonus:

Ayo I just gotta add this in here -

Word to god, and when I say this I say this with my whole chest -

I'd be DAMNED before I ever say I'm scared of Donald Trump.

First of all, I'm black and poor. There's been a white man wanting me dead since the moment I left my Mama's hoohaa and guess what, I'm still here. That mfer ain't special. Call me when the klansmen come not when done mfers with tiki torches cosplay call of duty.

Cause none of them coming to the hood..tf.. Try that shit in neighborhood with Bloods and Crips.. Y'all not the only ones with automatics and lots of money. It's just the black people with money and automatics keep shit quiet. If these racist mfers had ppl breaking in they house the way Kendrick had mfers breaking in Drake's with choppers they'd be terrified as fuuuckkk

And secondly there's 4chan fellas out there that probably legit jack off to the idea of a black queer trans person crying in fear. And those mfers can kiss my black ass and kick rocks cause I wake up every day smiling. So -

Anyway I'm done lol

I just had to get this out of my system lol. OKAY BYE FOR REAL

[en-busca-de-mi-ikigai-blog]

Actually, I think it's a really good analysis, but it's even more tragic/poetic.

Although Dimitri loses an eye, and as such, perspective, which is mirrored in the narrative with him focusing solely on killing (not defeating) Edelgard, he, in the end and thanks to Byleth, ends up being very forgiving and, ironically, sees things in a more nuanced way.

Contrasting Edelgard, who tries to be nuanced, who knows that the church is not the true evil, but thinks that getting rid of her enemies enemy could grant her and her people some sympathy, or at least cut them some slack. While they prepare to strike the true evil afterwards, knowing full well that they are going to be exhausted, she doesn't really believe she has another option. She really does think Rhea is not to be trusted. And tbh, I don't think the archbishop is to be trusted to deal with TWISTD either. She left them run rampant with little to no power to stop them and just turned a blind eye as long as they didn't directly put her power into question. Which ruined aboit as many lives, directly and indirectly, as the war did, iny honest opinion.

Precisely because of the point the other user stated, I think the Adrestian Empire was the only one who made sense as an initiator of the war. It's a Fire Emblem game, it needs a huge combate reason, ie, a war. But because they wanted it to be nuanced, that's the whole premise of having three factions instead of two like in Fates, they couldn't give a true evil faction that was obvious. Only Adrestia, with their borders secure but with its dynasty secretly almost (unwillingly) surrendered to TWISTD and its apparently inside calmness (before a tempest they knew was coming from the inside, spreading slowly as each noble house TWISTD eradicated or infiltrated - Nuvelle, Aegir, Barley, possibly somewhat Vestra, freaking royal Hresvelg) was the one that was feasibly the initiator. There was no other way, no other territory could do it (Faerghus and Leicester had their own troubles to keep at bay as the original poster said).

I think it's very poetic how Three Houses talks about the tragedy of war and conflict and factions and people keep arguing how Edelgard is imperialistic. She isn't. She just did what though was right after childhood trauma that left her so scarred that she became single minded and couldn't think of other way. That's tragic. People love Dimitri and have empathy for him because he's traumatized and has PTSD but fail to see the same symptoms in Edelgard. How they let their own fears control their actions, in very different ways, and one is not inherently better. Dimitri became a monster, morally, he hunts down his enemies like prey and dehumanizes his opponent, which he assumes it's only Edelgard without trying to see behind her motives. He's so narrow minded and unfocused at the same time. Same with Edelgard, she knows there will be many lives lost with a war, but thinks it's a worthwhile effort to purge what she thinks is causing structural problems, and doesn't realize that she needs to plan for the future ahead the war. She's so traumatized she actually can't see that far into the future, she thinks she needs to focus only on the firsts steps ahead, lest she doesn't live much longer.

This game is so tragic, y'all, it's so nuanced, if you actually see deeper than "they started an armed conflict therefore they are the villains" and "they were on the receiving end and thus did nothing wrong ever" but some people are not ready for that conversation, not even in a game.

The common opinion that Edelgard takes the fastest path to reforming Fodlan while Dimitri goes at a snails pace cause he's risk averse. That is an incorrect statement that's born out of bias and willful ignorance.

The exact opposite is true. Before he was even crowned as the next king he immediately risked civil wars for the sake of Duscur and exposing the crimes of Rufus even when Gilbert protested against that.

In the 2 years he was king he kicked Kleiman out of Duscur, helped the natives ( who previously had no aid in any form ) reclaim their home and fought hard to mend the relationship between Duscur and Faerghus.

He also allowed social mobility to be in Faerghus by allowing commoners to achieve the ranks of knights and nobles should they have the skill for these positions.

And lastly he wants to move away from the dependance on crests and allow Faerghus to be governed by merit.

And none of this gets hindered by Rhea and infact she supports Dimitri in his efforts.

They both right the wrongs of Fodlan by getting rid of nationalism, nepotism, forced obligations for those that don't want to and a crest based society. They achieve all but one of Edelgard's goals which is conquering Fodlan for herself and Adrestia.

Meanwhile Edelgard in the 2 years she's been an emperor has done absolutely nothing to mend the relationship between Brigid and Adrestia nor undo the imperialism that Brigid suffers from. The most she did was promise that she'll put an end of the vassalage after Petra officially becomes queen. They're the ones scared of righting their wrongs cause they're afraid of risks.

And quite frankly it's bizarre that the author's even put this decision in when this is the same story that has Leicester immediately became bossom buddies with Almyra cause their renowned generals had a good drink.

One last thing i want to talk about is the extreme differences between the oppression of Duscur and Brigid.

Brigid was forced into vassalage and had their crown princess kidnapped into enemy territory as a hostage. Which is extremely horrifying do not get me wrong.

Duscur on the other hand suffered from an unjust genocide, forced expulsion from their homeland, got their land colonized and received no aid from anyone.

Dimitri has more things to set right than Edelgard and he did all of it while Edelgard hardly did anything for Brigid.

[alexa-fika]

Can I ask for a really rebellious and curious child mandarin fish mermaid reader with WB pirates or the redhair pirates? I wonder what kind of shenanigans and chaos would they be in with such child (who may or may not get kidnapped from time to time cuz y'know, mer things ). Maybe a little bit of hurt and comfort if you Don't mind

Fish for Sale (Thatch x reader)

A/N yall almost din’t het no update today either cause after I had everything ready my behind left the app for a min a din’t save the draft and now I have to do it all again 🤜🏼. Anyhow bet you thought you would’t get nothing today did ya? Also did ya peep my rebranding of the blog?

Reader here is Replaced by Dokucha which dtands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers

"Well, I'm on my kidnapped arc again," Dokucha sighed as she once again found herself on the shoulders of what she guessed to be another slave trader, foolishly thinking to be their lucky day at having found a mermaid.

"Hey, I really advise against this. I doubt you are going to leave with just a slap on the wrist if they find out you did this.

"Shut up, you damn brat, if you know what's good for you!" he growled.

Don't say I didn't warn you," she grumbled with a roll of their eyes.

"Come on, Brother Marco! I didn't get hurt," Dokcuha screamed, trying to be heard by the sound of the wind as she dangled from her brother's talons.

"That's not the point here, Dokucha." He huffed as he made his way closer to the mother ship, leaving behind a scalding inferno as Ace got rid of the slaver's HQ.

"And what is?" she asked, letting out a slight 'oomph' as Marco dropped her on the ship's deck and gracefully landed beside her.

"The point is you can't be that reckless-yoi," he admonished with a shake of his head.

"I couldn't help it! They just had the prettiest pearls I had seen. I just wanted a closer look, that is all. Turns out they were fake anyways, should have known," she huffed

"This is what I mean-yoi. You can't just barge in without thinking of the consequences," he called, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You're exaggerating!" she sneered, crossing her arms and looking away from him in a petulant manner.

"Am I? Dokucha, this is the third time this week; one of these days, we won't make it in time," he shot back, his tone slowly rising.

"Don't look away from me when I'm talking, Dokucha." he admonished

"Or what?"

"Alright, Alright, why don't ya take a breather?" Thatch cut in, putting his hands on Marco's shoulders as he guided him away.

Dokucha rolled her eyes as she watched the two men share hushed conversations, with Marco's coming out like hisses as he let his annoyance bubble to the top as he eventually left the two be, stomping his way to the clinic.

"I really don't see what his issue is," she grumbled as Thatch approached her, giving her a small slap to the back of her head and ignoring the whine she gave him as she rubbed the spot.

"AH! AH! Thatch that really hurts!" she cried as he pulled her by the ear inside the boat.

"Stop that carryin on!" he shot back, effectively shushing the girl as they made their way into her quarters.

"Sit," he ordered, pointing at her bed.

"But-

"Sit!" he repeated, deciding to ignore the colorful swears she let out under her breathe as she obliged craddling her now bright red ear.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he stated

"First of all, you are going to apologize to Marco, and then you are going to change this whole act or so. Help me!"

"What?! Why would I apologize to him?! He was diggin' into me for no reason!"

"Dokucha, I have three speeds right now, on, off, and don't push your luck. Marco had to go into the island to save your pretty behin' from getting taken again and you just acted as if nothin was wrong!"

"No one asked him to do it!" she seethed, gripping the bedsheets underneath her until her knuckles turned white.

"And yet he did!" he growled, making the young mermaid wince, at which he took notice and let out a small sigh.

"Lord help me over the fence," he muttered, kneeling in front of the girl

"Dokucha, he is just tryin' to help ya; just like all of us, he is worried about what can become of you if they managed to get ya into the slave industry." He called, putting his hand on her cheek and watching as she leaned into it

"Ya'r a very special girl Dragonet, and people often wanna take advanatage of tha, all they will see is your scales and rare colors. We don't wanna lose ya."

"I know"

"Right, so you understand he's not trying to harass ya?"

"Yeah, I just got a lil angry. I wanted to explore, and I'm always stopped because of my scales," She called, gesturing to her psychedelic-colored fins

"That's alright. I can go with ya if ya still wanna explore?"

"Will you?!" she called, shooting up, eyes sparkling

"After ya apologize ta Marco."

"Ugh!"

Also I tried my hand and making headers n dividers and now I have my own! I made three sets, these are for the child!reader so they are obviously more childish and breezy (?)

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@epochal-oracle

[supernotnatural2005]

The Meet Cute - Chapter Three

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: After deliberating with yourself for weeks about committing to a date with Dean, you finally take the plunge after some much needed encouragement off of your best friend and the desire to see Dean again.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: FLUFF, mentions of past relationships, Matty is something else 😂

AN: Here it is! I'm excited to finally be sharing this with you all and hope it was worth the wait. I do apologise for it taking so long, but I wanted it to be right. Also, I am from the UK, and know very little about American customs and their multicultural societies etc 😅 What is included in this chapter is purely based off of research, so I do apologise if any of it is wrong.

Main Masterlist

TMC Masterlist

The first few weeks after the wedding weekend flew by in a blur. Work had been relentless, and though you had Dean’s number and exchanged a few texts, you just couldn’t find the time—or the courage—to meet him again. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. Every time his name lit up your phone, your stomach would flip, and you’d catch yourself smiling before you could stop. But the thought of stepping into something new, something that could hurt as much as it could heal, was terrifying.

Matty had been the loudest voice in your ear, even from across the country. After the wedding, he’d returned to LA, and his absence was palpable. Phone calls and late-night texts were all you had now, and this evening was no different, and as perusal the topic was brought back to Dean. 

“Babe, you’re doing that thing again,” he said in a sing song voice over the line. “You’re overthinking, overanalysing, and over-everything-ing. Just go out with him. It’s one date.”

“It’s not that simple,” you replied, picking at the edge of your blanket you had draped over your legs, a glass of half-drunk wine sat beside you. Outside, the rain drizzled against the windows, the soft patter mirroring the unease in your chest. It was a common denominator in your augment of why you hadn’t gone on this date already. 

“You don’t understand,” you said, your voice quieter now. “The last time I let someone in, it broke me. You were there, Matty. You saw what it did.” Although it had been nearly 3 years, sometimes the wounds still felt fresh, no matter how much ‘healing’ you’d done. 

The line was silent for a moment, and then Matty’s voice softened. “I did. And I also saw you rebuild yourself. You’re stronger now, more than you realise and you deserve to be happy. Don’t let fear keep you from that.” You sighed softly, knowing and hating that he was always right. But it was moments like this that made you only cherish your friendship more. 

“Now, onto more important topics. Has he sent you a dick pic yet? And can I see it?” 

After scrubbing, to no avail, at the wine stain you’d made by spluttering all over your beige blanket as a result from choking on your wine.

Leave it to Matty to turn a tender moment vulgar.

His previous words had stuck with you long after the call ended. 

They echoed in your mind as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. You’d spent so long guarding your heart, building walls to keep the pain out. But those same walls had also kept joy at bay. Could you really let someone in again?

The decision came one evening when a text from Dean popped up. It was a meme—a goofy, exaggerated depiction of a woman in an elaborate ball gown captioned, “Me: ‘I have nothing to wear!’”

You burst out laughing. It was the latest in a string of silly back-and-forth’s you and Dean had been sharing. The unofficial competition to ‘out-meme’ each other had been one of the lighter parts of your chaotic weeks. His text reminded you of the morning after the wedding, when he teased you about your hug faux pas and your insistence that you didn’t need rescuing. 

Somehow, this guy—the one you’d hugged by accident, who had laughed with you through one of the most unexpectedly fun nights of your life—was still here, making an effort.

The thought hit you like a jolt. Dean had stuck around. Even through your genuine excuses of being busy, he hadn’t given up. And he still made you laugh.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you typed out a reply.

You: Okay, you win. When are you free?

His response came almost immediately.

Dean: I’m free Friday. There’s a little Italian place just outside of town I think you’d like. I’ll pick you up at 6?

You: Deal. 6 it is.

Friday evening arrived quicker than you expected. You spent far too long debating what to wear, rifling through your closet as Matty’s voice echoed in your head.

"Wear something that says, ‘I’m interested but not desperate’”.

“Easy for you to say.” You huffed, settling on a simple pale-yellow sundress paired with some cute wedges you’d purchased a couple of weeks ago, but had yet to wear. By the time you were done with your hair and makeup, you were flustered but cautiously optimistic.

When Dean had texted that he was outside, your stomach was a bundle of nerves. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your bag, forgoing a jacket since it was the middle of July and the weather was decent enough to not need one, and headed out. 

You were taken by surprise when you first saw his car. It was a classic black Chevy, sleek and immaculate, and somehow it suited him perfectly. Dean leaned casually against the driver’s side, dressed in a dark green button-down that made his eyes stand out even more, paired with some dark-wash jeans and boots. He looked delectable.  

Dean’s grin widened the moment his eyes met yours. "Wow," he said, his voice carrying a mixture of warmth and awe. His gaze swept over you—not in a way that made you feel self-conscious but as if he genuinely appreciated every detail. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," you replied, a shy smile tugging at your lips as a blush crept up your neck. His words, paired with the sincerity in his tone, had you feeling flustered in the best way. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

Dean stepped closer then, his movements unhurried and natural, as though he’d done this a hundred times before. When he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips barely brushing your skin, it was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"It’s really good to see you," he said softly, his voice tinged with a genuine warmth that melted any lingering nerves.

The unexpected intimacy left you momentarily stunned, your heart pounding in your chest. You barely managed to maintain your composure, though the scent of his cologne—woodsy with a hint of spice—was distracting in the best way. And the way his hand lingered briefly on your arm as he pulled back didn’t help your spiralling thoughts. Damn, why did he always have to smell so good?

"You too," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended. Meeting his eyes for a brief moment, you felt a jolt of something unnameable. It left your stomach flipping and twisting, and before you could overthink, you broke eye contact, glancing toward his car.

“Nice car,” you blurted out, gesturing toward the polished vehicle behind him. Immediately, you wanted to kick yourself for your awkward comment, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his grin grew even more excitable.

“She’s my baby, my pride and joy,” he said with a touch of affection, running a hand over the gleaming roof. His tone held such earnest admiration that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Your baby?” you teased, raising a playful brow.

Dean didn’t falter, not even a little. “What?” he said, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “Are you a little jealous? Afraid of some competition?”

You chuckled, raising your hands in mock surrender. “Oh no, I can clearly see I’m outmatched here. You’re a loyal man. I know my place.”

The two of you laughed together, the teasing exchange breaking the last of the tension. You nodded your thanks with another shy smile as he opened the passenger door for you, even closing it behind you.

As he settled behind the wheel, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The ease in his smile, the gentle confidence in his movements—it all felt strangely reassuring. Then the teasing voice of your best friend entered your mind for the last time that night. 

“I told you so.” And in that moment, you couldn’t find it in you to argue.

The restaurant was charming, with rustic wooden beams and string lights casting a warm glow. The scent of garlic, basil, and freshly baked bread filled the air, making your stomach rumble. Dean held the door open for you, and the hostess led you to a table by a window overlooking a small, fairy-lit garden.

As you sat down, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of nervousness and excitement. Dean seemed to pick up on it, his expression softening.

“You, okay?” he asked, leaning slightly forward.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, then added with a small laugh, “It’s just been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Me too,” he admitted, a hint of vulnerability peeking through his usual confidence. “But hey, there’s no pressure, alright?”

His reassurance settled some of your nerves, and you nodded in kind. Soon the conversation began to flow, and you talked about your favourite books and movies, the quirks of your jobs, and shared embarrassing childhood stories that left you both laughing. Dean’s laugh was deep and genuine, and you found yourself relaxing more with each passing minute.

“So, the garage,” you said, resting your chin on your hand, you’d just finished a hearty plate of delicious pasta, both of your now empty plates sat off to the side. “How did that happen?”

Dean’s expression shifted, a flicker of something more serious crossing his face. “It started after my mom passed. My dad… he kind of fell apart. The garage became his way of coping, and eventually, it became mine too. It gave us both something to focus on, something to build together.”

“I’m so sorry about your mom,” you said softly.

“Thanks,” he said, his gaze meeting yours. “It was tough, but it taught me a lot about resilience. About not giving up, even when things feel impossible.”

His words struck a chord, the unspoken understanding passing between you. Before the moment grew too heavy, Dean smiled and leaned back in his chair.

“What about you?” he asked. “What’s your family like?”

You hesitated for a moment, then smiled softly. “Well, my mom remarried when I was six, and she and my stepdad, Jeff, had Amy a year later. Jeff’s been amazing—he’s the only father figure I’ve ever known since…” You trailed off but Dean interrupted, seeing it was a tough subject.

“Sounds like a great guy.”

“He is,” you said, your voice warming at the thought. “Growing up, the age difference between me and my sister sometimes made it hard to be super close, but now that we’re older, we’ve found our niche. And I’m so proud of her.”

Dean smiled affectionately at that, maybe because he could relate himself, in that regard.

The rest of the dinner passed by in a blur of laughter and shared stories. When the check came, you realised you weren’t ready for the evening to end.

“I don’t know about you,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your napkin, “but I’m not ready to call it a night yet.” 

Dean’s smile widened and it instantly dampened your rising anxiety from your confession. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, there’s a fiesta festival back in Topeka,” you said. “It’s been going on all week. They have some great sweet treats too.”

“You had me at something sweet, let’s go.” He said, his enthusiasm making you grin. 

Downtown Topeka was alive with vibrant colours, lights and the hum of music. Strings of Papel picado fluttered in the breeze, and the scent of spices and fried dough filled the air. Booths lined the streets, offering everything from handmade crafts to authentic Mexican dishes.

Dean’s eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning as you passed by a churro stand.

“You want one?” You offered, stepping closer to the stall, he nodded furiously eyes alight with wonder at the cinnamon sugar-coated fired dough, and you exchanged a few dollars to the merchant for two servings. 

After enjoying the sweet treat and finding amusement in Dean’s adamancy that he needed to revisit these little fried pieces of heaven.

You wandered through the festival, stopping to watch traditional dancers perform in brightly coloured dresses. Dean bought you both a drink from one of the stands, and you couldn’t stop teasing him as he tried to pronounce "champurrado" while ordering the warm drink.

“This is incredible,” Dean said, taking in the bustling energy around you. “Do you come here every year?”

“Pretty much,” you said, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “It’s one of my favourite parts of living here. What about you? Do you guys have anything like this back in Lawrence?”

Dean tilted his head slightly, his gaze scanning the lively festival around you. “Not like this,” he admitted, the warmth of the surrounding lights reflecting in his eyes. “Sam would love it, though. He’s a big culture guy—always reading up on traditions and history. Stuff like this would be right up his alley.”

“How is Sam, by the way?” you asked curiously, stealing a glance at him as you strolled side by side along the strip. The stars above were fully awake now, scattered across the velvety black sky. The fading hues of twilight had been replaced by a soft chill, and without realising it, you drifted slightly closer to Dean, drawn to his steady warmth.

“He’s doing good,” Dean replied, his tone infused with a mix of pride and affection. “Working a lot as usual. But—big news—he and Jess finally set a date for the wedding.”

“Wow, that’s great!” you said, your excitement genuine. “I’m really happy for him. Though…” you added with a playful smirk, “Matty’s gonna be crushed. He was holding onto hope that Sam would switch sides.”

Dean let out a hearty laugh, the sound warm and unrestrained. “Maybe it’s best you don’t tell him, save him the heartbreak.”

“You’re probably right,” you giggled, shaking your head. “I guess we’re both victims of our younger siblings figuring their lives out before us, huh?” The thought lingered as you looked ahead at the vibrant festival, your tone shifting slightly.

Although you were proud of the life you’d built for yourself, a small part of you had always assumed you’d be the one to walk down the aisle first. It wasn’t jealousy—more a wistful acknowledgment of how differently things had turned out. Your chest tightened briefly at the thought of the man you’d once believed would stand by your side.

But that memory no longer felt sharp. The sting had dulled, replaced by clarity. That relationship would have been suffocating at best—a living hell at worst.

“Funny how things work out,” you murmured, mostly to yourself.

Dean huffed softly, a sound of both agreement and amusement. “I guess we've just been holding out for the right person,” he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

The gentleness of his words made you glance over, only to find his eyes already on you. His gaze was steady, holding something unspoken but unmistakable. It wasn’t just the charm he wore so effortlessly—this was deeper, more earnest.

Your stomach flipped, the air between you charged with something that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

“Maybe,” you said softly, your voice almost a whisper as you held his gaze a moment longer.

The sounds of the festival buzzed around you—the distant laughter of children, the rhythmic thrum of music—but it all felt distant, as though the world had shrunk to just the two of you. Dean’s hand brushed against yours briefly, a subtle, tentative touch that sent a shiver up your spine.

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his, and Dean took the hint, intertwining his hand with yours. The simple gesture sent a warmth through you, a quiet reassurance you hadn’t realised you needed.

The night continued with more laughter, another helping of churros, at Dean's request, and even a few carnival games. Dean won you a small stuffed bear at a ring toss booth, grinning proudly as he handed it to you. 

You felt like a giddy teenager on her first date. There was something about Dean—the way he carried himself with that effortless blend of cool confidence and boyish charm—that disarmed you completely.

He had a knack for making you feel at ease, like you didn’t have to overthink or try too hard. By the time he walked you to the front door of your building, after driving you home, the evening felt like something pulled straight from a dream.

Dean lingered there with you, the warmth of his hand enveloping yours as his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles. The simple touch sent a familiar current rippling up your arm, a spark that had been present from the very beginning but now felt undeniable.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, his voice low and genuine. “I haven’t had this much fun in… I don’t even know how long.”

“Me neither,” you admitted, clutching the stuffed bear he’d won for you against your chest with your free hand.

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away. “So,” he began, a faint, hopeful grin tugging at his lips, “is it too soon to ask if I can see you again?”

The space between you felt smaller somehow, his presence radiating warmth against the chill of the night air. His closeness was grounding yet thrilling, and you couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across your face, making your cheeks ache in the best way.

“Not too soon,” you replied, your voice tinged with quiet certainty. “I’d like that.”

Summoning a burst of courage, you rose onto your tiptoes, leaning in to press your lips softly to his. The kiss was brief but full of emotion, and when you pulled back, the surprise on his face was endearing. His lips parted slightly; his eyes wide as though he hadn’t expected it, but then his expression shifted. The initial shock melted away, replaced by a bashful, almost boyish smile that lit up his features.

Your heart raced as you searched his face, the warmth of his lips still lingering on yours. A wave of panic crept in—had that been too much, too soon? You hadn’t planned it, hadn’t thought beyond the pull of the moment. But before you could second-guess yourself, Dean stepped closer, his hand gently brushing against your cheek as he leaned in.

This time, the kiss was deeper, his lips meeting yours with a tender determination that left no room for doubt. It was slow and deliberate, like he wanted to memorise every second, every sensation. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you under the quiet night sky.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with your own. His voice was softer now, almost distracted, as though he were still lost in the moment. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, the words carrying a promise you could feel in your bones.

You pressed on more lingering kiss to his lips, unable to help yourself. There was just something so intoxicating about the way he kissed you—gentle but determined, like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

A part of you already felt the addiction creeping in, the kind of pull that made you crave more even as you tried to pace yourself. His lips left a tingling warmth against your own, a sensation you knew you wouldn’t forget.

Reluctantly, you pulled away, your gaze lingering on his as you tried to steady your breathing. “Goodnight, Dean,” you said, a knowing smile playing on your lips, your voice steadier than the whirlwind of emotions inside.

Dean cleared his throat, as though grounding himself, and took a small step back. “Night, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice rougher but no less tender.

You watched as he retreated toward his car, the sound of the engine breaking the silence of the street. As his taillights disappeared around the corner, the events of the night replayed in your mind like a dream—the laughter, the easy conversation, the way he had made you feel so seen and safe.

Clutching the stuffed bear tighter, you leaned against your door, a quiet smile still lingering on your face. For the first time in what felt like forever, a spark of hope flickered in your chest. It wasn’t just a fleeting feeling—it was a sense of possibility.

Maybe, just maybe, you could let someone in again.

AN: And there we have it. I'd love to know what you all thought? How did you like 'the date'? Are you excited to see where it all leads with these two? 👀 Also I know Matty is a fan favourite for some, and his part was much smaller, but there will be more of him to come 😁 As always thank you for reading 💕

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @lyarr24 , @nancymcl

Series Tag List:

@zepskies , @roseblue373 , @muhahaha303

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Ask and ye shall receive 😝

You actually have perfect timing though because I just thought of some new themes and was going to send in more asks soon! So first we have the stories where Chris is Going Through It™️ (to very different degrees across the stories but still). In order of severity of his struggles:

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲 (LOVING THIS ONE SO HAPPY ITS BEING PUBLISHED!! I’ve been following along the snippets the whole time but it’s so fun to read it all through and see all the parts I missed. And that last part where Eddie finally got to Chris and he’s so out of it!! So engaging I can’t wait to see the full picture of what’s happening!)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (covids getting to him :( poor kid! All three of his parents are going to help him get through it together! Also covid means we’re approaching Buckley parents’ visit territory! I’m pumped for the angst!)

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩 (oh boy the probie better not screw up the florist visit! I’m definitely worried it’s gonna go wrong! And I really want to know what Buck’s surprise is!!! This story is so adorable and sweet and funny and I’m really loving it!)

- PCA <3

THIS WORKED GREAT FOR US!

Great theme. So true. Why am I hurting him?

117 for 🌲 (THANK YOU! So glad you're enjoying it!)

---

“I have,” Adriana says. “And, wait… Eddie, you’ve killed people, too. Right?”

Eddie frowns at her. “Yes. In Afghanistan.”

“See, Mom? Eddie and I have killed. Sophia puts things down for a living.”

“Well, I do more than that,” Sophia grumbles. 

“We’ve got a sort of grit I just don’t think you have,” Adriana says. 

Eddie swallows anxiously. He’s not sure challenging her to a game of chicken is the route he’d take. But he got them this far. Maybe it’s time to pass the baton. 

“See, I don’t think any of this was thought out ahead of time,” Adriana says. “And I get that. Hell, do I ever. You’re not playing chess here, Mom. You’re just surviving. Trying to hold your little delusion together. Every decision you make is out of desperation.”

Eddie waits for Helena to reach across the table and strike her. It doesn’t happen. 

“So do it, Mom,” Adriana says. “Let him go or kill him. I don’t think you’ve really thought through what will happen if you choose the latter.”

Their mother locks her jaw. Her eyes flicker between Adriana and Ramon. There’s an incredibly tense moment where Eddie has no idea how this will go. And then enough moments pass, and he realizes Adriana is right. If Helena was serious about murdering their dad, she would have already. She’s right - it’s all been an act to hold her flimsy life together. 

“Three…” Adriana says. “Two…”

Helena opens her mouth, as if she’s about to command Ramon to do it. To stab himself. Sophia flinches. Eddie holds his breath. His mother’s mouth snaps shut. 

“One,” Adriana finishes. 

Helena exhales, defeated.

Adriana turns to their father. “Dad, you can let go of the knife now. You don’t have to listen to her, remember? You can think for yourself.”

Helena starts to cry.

Ramon inhales heavily. His eyes flicker around, conflicted. 

“It’s okay, Dad,” Adriana says. “You can let go.”

Like he’s been resuscitated, Ramon gasps and drops the knife. He stands and takes a few frantic steps backward, bumping into a cabinet and nearly knocking over some crystalware. He looks terrified. He looks small, in a way.

“What’s happening?” He demands. “Helena, what did you do?” 

Eddie looks between them both. His parents. He spent so many years afraid of them. His father especially, but his mother as well. Afraid of their judgement. Their lectures. Their hands. Their punitive attitudes towards his decisions. Their willingness to rip his son from him. And now he’s looking at them and he’s just… Unafraid. Saddened. This is pathetic. This is all so damn pathetic. 

And something in Eddie’s chest just kind of unlocks. Like a stiff joint cracking. 

“Mom,” Eddie says. “Tell him what you did.”

“No, no,” Helena begs. “Please. This doesn’t have to-”

“Tell him!” Eddie snaps. “Tell him what we are.”

Ramon looks at Eddie. Then he turns to Adriana. And the look on his face is one of pure horror. Rejection. 

Well. 

That’s okay. 

Eddie thinks he wants to reject this circus first. 

🍂

“Okay,” Buck says, putting in the address to the nearest motel in his phone map. “Repeat the plan.”

“We go to the motel. We sleep a few hours. You order me a bunch of pizza and drinks before you leave. You go get Dad, and I don’t open the door for anybody unless I physically see him.”

“Right,” Buck confirms as he pulls out of the parking lot. “I’ll leave you with Bobby and Maddie’s phone numbers. If there’s an emergency, either of them would come for you. Or-or they’d send Chimney.”

“Okay.”

“I hate even thinking about leaving you alone, but I can’t take you with me.”

“I know, Buck. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?” Buck asks.

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “I haven’t… Uh, I haven’t felt like I could be alone for real in a while.”

---

72 for 🔼 (Well it's not alll gonna be angst... is all I can say...)

---

It goes on that way for weeks. Calls and online games mostly, but twice a week, Buck and Eddie are over in the yard, either doing garden chores, or directing Chris with his. Sometimes, when the weather is right, Shannon will lay a blanket on the opposite side of the yard and sit out there with them. Jane will sit up on the blanket, some brightly colored toy in her hand, watching them work intently and babbling little baby sounds. Eddie gets to talk to her. Gets to answer back like they’re having a conversation. 

For those weeks, Chris seems happy. Shannon seems happy. Jane, well… She’s a baby. Her mood changes with the hour. But she seems good, too. Great, even. Eddie just can’t wait to hold her again. 

“You’re in a better mood lately,” Buck observes one afternoon, driving home from gardening.

“I miss the kids,” Eddie says. “It’s just good to be with them, in whatever way we can be.”

Buck nods, smiles softly. “Yeah. You’re different after you see them. I… I love having you all the time, but I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Eddie exhales heavily. “Me too.”

Buck smiles again, but there’s a sad look in his eye. 

“What is it?” Eddie asks. 

“Nothin’,” Buck clearly lies.

“No, really,” Eddie presses. “What’s up?”

“I’ll just miss not being with you every day,” Buck says. “Even if I know it’s for the best.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. 

“If you think I’m letting you go, Buck… You’re crazy.”

Buck scrunches his lips to the side for a second, blushing. 

“I’d hope not,” he mumbles. 

“Definitely not,” Eddie confirms. “And, it’s not just… I mean, you’re there every time, too. You’re family, okay? I take that seriously.”

That kind of leaves Buck speechless for a second. Eddie knows he takes it seriously, too. 

v.

The last time Eddie came home - really came home, after being far away - it hadn’t exactly been his choice. He was shot out of the sky and littered with bullets and nearly died. Shannon nearly lost him. He didn’t come home. He was sent home. Not his choice. Shannon always wondered, would he have reenlisted? Would it just have kept happening, if it had been left up to him? If he hadn’t been medically discharged, when would she have snapped? What would have happened? Would she have divorced the empty side of their bed?

She doesn’t know. That’s not the point. The point is, today, after another prolonged absence - albeit not his choice or fault, and much preferable to Afghanistan - Eddie comes home as soon as he possibly can. Restrictions are lowered. Eddie takes a test. And the moment it’s clear, he’s on his way. No hesitations. No excuses. He’s just coming home. 

Shannon tells Chris. He whoops with excitement. 

“You’re sure?” He asks, giddy. 

“I’m sure,” she promises. “He’s ten minutes away, sweetie.”

Her son is so happy he starts to cry. 

---

96 for 🪩 (THANK YOU!)

---

It doesn’t quite go that way. 

Eddie wakes up to Christopher shouting. 

“NO!” 

This is a rather alarming way to be woken. Eddie, startled, nearly rolls out of bed and hops to his feet to run to him, before he remembers his foot. 

“I got it,” Buck mumbles, climbing out of bed with a yawn.

The whole point of today was for Buck to sleep in and take it easy, but what can they do? A shout like that requires some haste. Eddie can’t currently be hasty. Eddie lags behind as Buck hurries out of the room, in search of Christopher. He finds them in the bathroom. Buck’s broad frame blocks Eddie’s view inside the doorway. 

“This is horrible! Prom is ruined!” Chris complains.

“No,” Buck says gently. “No, it’s not that bad. Really!”

“What is it?” Eddie asks. “What’s going on?”

“My life is over!” Chris bemoans.

Buck sighs and steps aside, letting Eddie into the bathroom. 

“Look,” Chris points to his forehead. His forehead, where, smack in the middle, there is a massive, red zit. “It’s horrible.” 

“Oh, wow,” Eddie says dumbly.

Buck nudges him.

Christopher’s face crumples even further. 

“I mean!” Eddie leaps to fix his statement. “I mean, it’s not that bad. Wow, your reaction was… Big, because the zit is not.” 

“Oh, great save,” Buck mutters.

“You’re lying!” Chris practically whines. “It’s horrible!”

Eddie sighs. He fucked this one up.

“Okay, you know what? It’s not great.” He admits. “But prom isn’t ruined. We can fix this.” 

“Can we?” Chris asks. “Because they don’t just disappear!” 

“No. No, they don’t,” Eddie agrees. 

“But we can hide it!” Buck interjects. 

“Hide it?” Chris asks.

“Yeah!” Buck nods enthusiastically. “Yep. We can, uh… Today we can work on getting the redness down, and tomorrow we can use some makeup.”

“Makeup?” Chris asks. “I can’t do makeup! I don’t know how!”

“Well…” Eddie winces. “You must have friends that do. Ainslee does, right?”

“What?” Chris demands. “She can’t see this! She can’t know!”

“Eddie, how did you ever get a girl to take you seriously?” Buck chides. “No, Chris. Don’t worry. We’ll look it up on YouTube.”

To his question, Eddie has no idea. Realizing he’s gay was incredibly liberating, in that he never has to think about that again. And, on top of that, Buck is pretty easy to be around. No stress. No pressure. 

“YouTube,” Chris sighs. “Right. Okay. Buck, you’ll help me?”

“Of course,” Buck nods. 

“I can help, too!” Eddie insists.