#I say this after bordering on having a mental breakdown

[gaybroons]

drinking lavender tea from my bee teacup. life is good :)

[hard-core-super-star]

i have to put a trigger warning to this request, im sorry if it triggers something, it was not my intention, lots of love.

heyy, may I request something like a reader who has depression and is struggling in being clean and just want to relapse in old bad habits of self harm but doesn't say anything to Kate because she doesn't want to disappoint her. but in the end Kate finds out anyway because she knows the reader like the palm of her hand and yeah, free choice for the ending!!

when it rains [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x reader

summary: when the threat of relapsing rears its head, kate does her best to support you...even when you try to push her away.

warnings: depressive episode; mentions of self-harm/relapsing; references to anxiety/struggles with spiraling thoughts; hurt/comfort + hopeful/happy ending; kate being nervous but supportive

wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: i was working on the next part of vampire!kate when i got hit with a random burst of inspiration to write this request. i wrote it pretty much in one sitting so forgive me for the messiness. this is a pretty heavy topic so read at your risk and keep the warnings in mind! there aren't any super explicit descriptions of things but proceed with caution if you find this topic triggering. thank you for the request and for your patience, sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

In hindsight, the signs that something was wrong were obvious.

You should have picked up on them immediately but you were too distracted by the world around you to notice what was going on inside your inner world. Realistically, there were a hundred reasons for your slip of mind and yet, the only thing you could blame was yourself.

You and your lack of focus. 

You and your constant need for external factors to take away feelings you should be capable of working through on your own.

The list of habits to blame for the sudden breakdown of your mental fortitude was shockingly long, in your opinion. 

You probably should have told Kate about your increasingly anxious and self-deprecating thoughts but you foolishly believed you could handle it on your own. 

Plus, she was busy. Too busy to get caught up in issues she ultimately didn’t care about.

At least, that’s what you told yourself…which just made your thoughts worse. 

A part of you knew the archer cared, of course she cared, she had spent the first month since you moved in with her bringing you random gifts after every night of crime fighting. It bordered on ridiculous, especially since there were only so many places to put flower vases, but it showed just how much your girlfriend cared for you. How much she thought of you.

How much she worried for you whether she was next to you or a whole city away.

It’s a thought that usually reassures you. One that reminds you of the love you have for each other. 

The more your thoughts turned sour, though, the more that love turned into a weapon. It forced you to retreat, to pull away from the archer while pretending like the distance you were putting between you wasn’t killing you inside. 

But being alone only made everything worse. And suddenly, the fear of disappointing Kate suffocated you every waking hour.

It didn’t make sense and yet here you are, home alone, hiding in the bathroom, and gripping the sink so hard that your knuckles had turned white a while ago. At least the uncomfortable feeling in your hands had kept you from doing something you really, really, shouldn’t do.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, frowning at the face that stares back at you. It’s hard to see anything besides the dark bags under your eyes and the exhaustion that’s so clear in every single one of your features.

A sigh leaves your lips as your mind drifts to the razors in the sink cabinet. Your hand is already so close to the cabinet door and the urge to do something you won’t be able to take back rises to the forefront of your mind.

No amount of deep breaths are able to ground you enough for your thoughts to change. Your hand moves a few inches when you suddenly hear the front door slam shut. Some of Kate’s bad habits were also your best allies in moments like this.

You move faster than you can even comprehend, turning the lock on the door and shuffling as far away from the door as you possibly can. You sit on the ground right as footsteps near the bathroom door.

“y/n?”

Her voice startles you despite how soft it sounds. There’s nothing but affection in her tone and yet alarm bells ring in your mind. You almost suffocate under the overwhelming need to run away, to hide, to disappear. 

Your intentions must be obvious despite your silence since she knocks on the door once more. There’s an urgency to her movements that you can’t quite explain. It’s almost like she’s afraid of you slipping away.

The mere thought makes guilt rise up like bile in your throat.

“Love?” She tries once more, her voice uncharacteristically calm. “Can you please open the door?”

You want to do it, you really do, but your whole body feels heavier than ever. No amount of effort or inner screaming gets your limbs to move even though all you really want right now is the archer standing patiently on the other side of the door.

You really don't deserve her.

The door slams open at the exact second your thoughts grow dark once more. 

The sound causes you to jump, your arms instinctively wrapping around your knees and bringing them further against your chest. Almost as if it’ll truly make you disappear so you won’t have to face the disappointment you know will be hiding in the depths of Kate’s concerned eyes.

“Sorry, I got too impatient to pick the lock,” she says, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck. 

You almost want to laugh. Only Kate could be so awkwardly charming at a time like this. Despite her charming act, it’s obvious she’s nervous and more than a little out of her depth. You’d feel bad about it if you weren’t in the same boat as her.  

“Um…” Your eyes lift up from your knees to her face, silently watching while she struggles to put her thoughts into words. “Is it okay if I sit next to you?” 

The answer is obvious to you and yet you still hesitate. Not because you don’t want her around but because you’re afraid of how you’ll act. Of the weird mix of frustration and desperation that make up your inner world right now.

“Yeah,” you mumble. 

Kate wastes no time in coming closer to you. A cynical part of you hates the way she looks at you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world. You know it’s unfair, especially since she’s simply concerned for your well-being, but you can’t change your thoughts. You’ve already spent most of the day trying and failing miserably.

True to her word, Kate simply sits next to you, her side barely brushing up against you. It’s enough of a reminder that she’s physically with you without her running the risk of overwhelming you with more contact than you’re ready for. 

You know her just as well as she knows you, though, and your eyes zero in on her fidgeting hands. It’s almost like you can see the struggle in her motions. The aching need to reach out and touch you, to make sure you’re truly safe.

Ultimately, she doesn’t move. And neither do you.

For the first time in a long time, Kate doesn’t rush. She doesn’t question things or make one of her badly-timed but well-intentioned jokes. 

She just…sits there. 

Waiting. 

Silently watching over you in a wordless expression of her support and love for you. 

It’s more beautifully emotional than you were prepared for and you’re almost not sure what to do.

Until, eventually, you find some sense of calm. You grasp onto it quicker than your mind can even handle and finally…you’re able to move again.

It’s a subtle, almost slow, movement but Kate picks up on it pretty much instantly. You extend your arm out toward her and she gently holds the back of your hand while lifting the sleeve of your hoodie up. The audible sigh of relief she lets out makes your heart clench.

She doesn’t question you in any way but you decide to speak up. Maybe a part of you needs to hear the words out loud too.

“My other arm is clean too,” you mumble. “I…I’m still clean.”

She brings your arm up until she’s able to press soft kisses all over the inside of your wrist. “What you are is strong.”

You can’t help but scoff. The knowledge that she means well does little to soothe the disdain that’s made a home in your stomach. “That’s not true.”

The tone your voice carries startles her enough for her to change her approach. It’s not one she particularly wants to employ but she figures it’s better than arguing. 

“Of course it’s true,” she responds. “I know you’ve been struggling all week, y/n. Surviving that takes more than just luck.”

Her words leave no room for arguing so all you can do is huff in response. Your obvious frustration does little to deter her and she continues to caress your wrist. You don’t miss the way she lingers over the few faded scars that remain etched into your skin.

The affection soothes you somewhat which only brings back the thoughts that had sent you down this spiral in the first place. 

“I want to do more than just survive,” you whisper. “I want to live, Kate. Without feeling so…helpless all the time.”

“Babe…” She sighs.

Your body tenses up as you prepare yourself for the disappointment that is sure to follow. 

Who are you to complain? The only thing standing in your way is yourself and yet you have the nerve to act like it’s the end of the world. It’s no one’s fault but your own that you can’t function like a normal person. 

You expect her to verbalize your own thoughts, to prove that all your doubts were correct, that you deserve to feel this way after all. It’s an extremely unrealistic expectation considering who Kate is but you can’t stop yourself from wanting to be proven right. 

To be given a reason for wanting to disappear.

There’s nothing the archer loves more than proving you wrong, though.

“y/n, surviving is a part of living,” she says, her voice soft yet more serious than you’re used to hearing her. “I know it probably doesn’t feel like that right now but pushing through is the first step to living. You just have to take it step by step…and you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here for you, if and when you want me.”

Kate’s never been known for being particularly good at saying the right thing at the right time but today…her words seem to ease some of the weight you’ve been carrying lately. Maybe it’s not much but it’s certainly a start.

“I do want you here,” you find yourself saying. “I just…I don’t know why it feels easier to push you away.”

“Because you’re scared, darling. You don’t want me to leave so you walk away first. I do the same thing, y’know?”

You can’t help but scoff. If there’s one thing Kate doesn’t know how to do is walk away when she really should. It would be infuriating if it didn’t work out in her favor most times. Hence how she ended up as Hawkeye in the first place. “Literally when have you done that?”

“Before I met you.” She playfully bumps your shoulder with her own. “It wasn’t exactly my charm that made me a heartbreaker.”

You chuckle despite yourself. “Please, Kate, you’ve always been too oblivious to be a heartbreaker on purpose.”

“Okay, ouch. I am not oblivious.”

Instead of arguing with your stubborn girlfriend, you simply lean closer to her and rest your head on her shoulder. Her arm instantly wraps itself around you to pull you even closer.

The physical comfort helps to ground you and little by little, your bad thoughts stop looking so overwhelming. It’s a small step but it’s a step forward and with Kate by your side, the path to recovery doesn’t seem so bad.

[yanderes-galore]

I'm so glad you're writing for Smilling Critters! Bobby Bearhug is my favorite and now I can finally have some good yandere content for her. Her voice lines already show us how clingy she is and how being alone would leave her devastated. Now, we can see these feelings in one of your concepts. Does she has a monster form like DogDay and CatNap?

Panther trying not to write murderous bears challenge (It's impossible).

🌹Yandere! Bobby Bearhug Concept ❤

(🐻My Version🐻)

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Clingy behavior, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Fear of abandonment, Isolation/Kidnapping, Delusional behavior, Blood, Forced companionship.

Bobby is certainly the embodiment of love.

Her character is meant to be kind and caring.

She loves everything unconditionally.

That affection would definitely be directed towards her obsession.

She'd be overwhelming towards you, too.

Bobby is warm and giving to those around her.

Even when such a quality is easily used and abused.

Another thing to note is Bobby hates being abandoned.

So... I can see her getting attached to someone who reentered the abandoned Playcare.

Just like my other takes on the Smiling Critters, she has a "plush" and "monster" form.

Her plush form is about the size of the others, seeming like the size of a toddler or young child in plush form.

She gives off the smell of roses and often likes to cling to her obsession.

She's probably the most affectionate and clingy of the Smiling Critters.

If not the most obsessive.

Her monster form no doubt leans into her bear characteristics.

She's large, on all fours, and looks ferocious.

Despite her monstrous form, she still focuses on smothering her obsession in affection... the smell of roses still faintly in her fur.

Actually... That's a good way to describe Bobby.

Smothering.

Bobby seems like she'd ignore set boundaries if it meant she could be close to you.

She doesn't want her obsession, her friend, to abandon her like all the rest.

What better way to prevent that than clinging to you tightly?

Perhaps even to the point of claws digging into your flesh.

For this concept, I can see you coming back to Playcare after having worked there.

For years Bobby has been alone.

Many of the other Smiling Critters died off except for DogDay and CatNap... Far as she knows.

She's survived this long by hiding in her smaller form and only using her monster form to hunt whatever she can find.

She's baffled to see a human again in this place.

But as you roam Playcare, looking for answers and escape, Bobby can't help but follow.

She doesn't want to be left alone again...

For all she knows, you're her only chance at companionship.

Which leads you to encountering the small bear... and befriending her.

She plays herself off as a guide, even though she'd really say anything to make you stay.

You can notice Bobby's clingy behavior easily.

She's never away from your side.

In fact, when you do leave her alone, she panics.

Bobby might go into a full blown mental breakdown if you leave her alone.

She sobs, screams, and panics until you come back to scoop her into your arms.

Nothing will take you away from her.

Bobby borders between protective and possessive.

She'd do downright anything just for her obsession to stay with her.

You want to escape? Take her with you!

She has to stay here...?

...

Then you will too.

In a way I feel she's one of the worst Smiling Critters to be obsessed with you.

She has no limits, no boundaries, and will stop at nothing to keep you with her.

You are the first friend she's had in a long time.

Honestly, the isolation has gotten to her head.

She's delusional, insane...

Volatile.

She's so scared to lose you.

You're protected from most if not all harm, due to Bobby using her monster form to tear apart anything that causes an issue.

Like those Mini Critters that roam around?

Yeah, she's tearing those apart like chew toys.

Bloody chew toys.

Bobby may also guilt you into keeping her with you.

She's lonely, she's scared...

Just like you.

Don't leave her alone!

She loves you!

If you tried to leave her behind due to her clingy behavior so you could escape, she tries guilting you.

If that doesn't work... she's clinging to your leg.

If that doesn't work...?

She turns on you... becoming her monster form and dragging you deep into the facility.

You can only out run her for so long.

She'll find you... and she'll keep you all to herself...

Even if it means biting into you until you bleed.

Bobby is... desperate for companionship since being abandoned.

Do you really think she's going to sit back and let you run?

You think she'll let you leave?

Never.

Bobby would follow and hunt you down, making you think you can leave.

Then she ambushes you... dragging you away as her strong jaw locks onto your flesh.

Bobby would drag you deep into Playcare... right into the den she calls home.

You may want her in her plush form... but she doesn't trust you.

She stays in her large bear form, curled around you with low growls.

Blood coats her mouth, from you and previous prey.

Despite everything... the smell of roses is still there...

It's overwhelming... just like she is.

[josephquinnswhore]

Fuckin’ Brat

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: you’ve had a bad day and taking it out on Joel leads to primitive measures to fix your attitude.

Word count: 0.6k

Warnings: swear words, reader having a mental breakdown I guess, Joel using pet names like angel, brat.

alternative thoughts to the other little blurb I posted about this pic. Bonus pic for better effect.

You were so fucking tired, so worn and aching and sweaty and irritated. The combination usually wouldn’t have been that much of an issue on a normal day; you were great at handling your emotions and worked through them like a champ.

Today things had fallen apart; a handful of otherwise tiny manageable things that all add up in what becomes a cluttered mess that accumulates like a fire hazard. The more things that go wrong; the more flammable you become.

And fuck you were about to blow up.

First it was Janice, the old hag from down the street, complaining about your dog, burnie, a well behaved border collie, he was a bit stupid sometimes; he liked to chase the birds that flew through her garden. That became a you issue. She was lucky he didn’t chase her.

Then, as you get to the hall to start volunteering for the lunch service, cooking for all the guys coming home from patrol; nothing had been started. No prep, no cooking. No cleaning. You roll up your sleeves and pick up the slack; because you’re a fucking people pleaser who can’t say no.

Lastly, you get home, just wanting to relax and read a chapter of your romance book. Only to find it had tea spilt all through it; the pages were now a damp shade of brown, soaked and completely ruined. Ellie had looked at it last night after showing some intrest, neglecting to put the precious book back onto its respective shelf.

Ellie said she’d clean up after herself, you understood she was just a teenager and she probably just forgot.

But you couldn’t help but just explode, it was the final fucking straw. The match that had lit the impending internal explosion.

In that exact moment your brain had decided to short circuit into a fit of rage, Joel walks through the door, walking snow all through the house as he sits on the lounge, groaning loudly.

“Couldn’t even take your fucking boots off at the door?” You scold angrily, gesturing to the mess he’d walked though the house.

Joel stopped untying his boots to look at you; he raises his eyebrow, giving you an unspoken warning.

Don’t speak to me like that again.

But you got the message, you just push further, knowing he would snap eventually.

“Thanks for letting the damn dog out this morning too, now Janice is on my fucking ass as always!” You grumble, starting to pace a little.

Joel stood off the lounge, bending at the knees a little so he’s more your height and he rested his palms on the top of his jeans on his thighs. His head was tilted as he watched you ramble, waiting for you to realise you’d fucked up.

“She’s that obsessed with you, she’s got to take her shit out on me, maybe you should just go over there and stuff her full of your co-“

Your rambling is cut short by a large hand roughly gripping your chin, your eyes widen at the sudden action and he jerks your face towards his, you stumble forward two steps. He doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“Fuckin’ finish that sentence, angel.” He growls lowly, warning you against it. He waits, looking at you expectantly.

You freeze, blinking dumbly at him. He hums.

“You really want me to go over there and stuff Janice full of my cock, huh? Show her what she’s missing, why she’s rightfully jealous of you?” His tone was husky. His eyes hadn’t left your own.

Your eyes water at the thought, your shoulders droop as you shake your head no.

“‘S what I thought. Listen to me real careful now, angel.” His voice is softer, but still demands that you comply with his orders.

He softens his grip on your chin, but still maintaining that eye contact.

“You’re gonna come sit on my lap, tell me what happened today, and you’re gonna stop being such a fuckin’ brat. Understand?”

You nod frantically, tears welling in your eyes, Joel knew you needed him to put you in place, to break you down so you’d stop pushing all your problems down to bury them. So you’d finally open up and embellish in the support you needed. He would listen, and help however he could.

“Repeat it, baby.” He orders firmly.

“I’m gonna sit on your lap and tell you why I’m upset..” You trail off for a moment. “And stop bein’ a brat.” You mumble.

Joel let’s go of your chin, sitting back down on the lounge where he pats his lap. You sit on your throne and cry to him; about everything that had happened.

He spends hours with you; in his arms, letting you cry and rant about all the stress you’d harboured. You were thankful for the stern and loving man that was Joel Miller.

[batboopp]

Batman: I Am Suicide- a comic breakdown (how trauma can shape your life)

huge cw for suicidal ideation and self harm! i seriously mean it it’s not even subtle 😭

another heads up, this essay really only talks about one issue, as that’s the only one that really goes into what i want to talk about! maybe i could do a full comic breakdown in the future. <3

(most of this is written whenever i have some of free time, so please ignore if any sentences/paragraphs are incoherent or run on for awhile 😭😭 i hope you like my batman drabbles :D)

It’s common knowledge that both Bruce Wayne and his Batman persona are very emotionally tortured, usually refusing any help or healthy way of processing his thoughts, emotions, and actions. He’s deadset that nothing but Batman, muscles, and pure determination will save Gotham city-therefore saving any child from having anyone taken from them so brutally, the way his parents were taken from him. You don’t have to be a psychiatrist to know that this black-and-white way of thinking is not a healthy way to process trauma, and some may argue that it borders along the line of insanity or mental illness. Although I’m not here to specifically talk about those parts of his psyche, I DO want to talk about how this extreme way of thinking affects-and even shapes-his entire life and personality.

“A kid and a vow. The ears and the belt and the batarangs and the Batmobile and the gargoyle and the roof and the leather and the armor.”

“How sad. How stupid. How immature.”

“How hilarious. How hilarious all of it is. I want to laugh, too. Do you know how much I want to laugh?”

Starting off strong, we can already see that Bruce has SO much self doubt about himself and a sort of awareness of just how absurd his whole mission is, something I personally see a lot of, but I always appreciate when it’s brought up. A thing about Bruce is that if he has a plan or a mission, he WILL get it done no matter how insane it is, and it’s nice that part of his obsessive personality is displayed here. However, even though he puts his whole soul into his Batman mission, he expresses that he can’t help but feel almost desperately hopeless about it. This might be me reaching, but it seems he wants Batman to be this thing he can sort of lessen by laughing it off. This may be surprising to some, but Batman laughing off and joking about his situation isn’t uncommon. In many comics, he makes jokes about horrible things he’s gone through, he cracks puns at his villains and rouges while he’s getting the shit kicked out of him, and most importantly, he laughs a lot at himself. Bruce wants it to just be-less. It’s almost depressingly ironic that he wants (whether subconsciously or not) this symbol of raw hope, justice, and pure dedication he built with so much effort to be less than it actually is. It’s a lot, so much that Batman himself can barely take it.

“After the alley and the gun. And the pearls. What use was I? After the blood on her hand, what use was a little rich kid who’s mommy and daddy got shot?”

“I was pain. That’s all I was. Everything else, every chance given to me, every promise I’d ever made, all of it was pain. And what use is pain? What use is being all pain? It’s not dignified. It’s not kind. And if it’s not dignified and not kind, then maybe it’s not worth anything.”

“Maybe it’s better off as nothing. Gone. Dead.”

Here, we can see that Bruce thinks he’s worthless, to the point he thinks he’d be better off dead. Not only that, you can argue that he sees his own pain as a weakness, and yet he uses it to shape his life. “I was pain, that’s all I was. Everything else, every change given to me, every promise I’d ever made, all of it was pain. And what use is being all pain?” He goes on to say “It’s not dignified and it’s not kind,” which you can infer he’s talking about himself here, with his ‘I am pain’ analogy. He thinks he’s inherently violent and undignified and worthless because of this pain, even though we KNOW he does not see other’s pain as a weakness. In fact, he is normally comforting of people going through hardships, especially to children or those close to him. This is a very common form of self-deprecating behavior, thinking that whatever you’re going through is automatically less important than the well-being of others.

“I was 10. I got one of my father’s razor blades, and I got down on my knees. I put the metal on my wrist. The edge scratching cold. The blood on my hand. And I looked up. To Mother and Father. I told them I was sorry. I was so sorry.”

“I was on my knees in Gotham. And I was praying, pushing my hands together now, the blood and the blade warm between them.”

“I prayed. And no one-

no one answered.

No one answered.

No one answered.”

“I was alone. Like everyone else. Like everyone in Gotham. I saw everyone in Gotham, all of us. We’re all on our knees, our hands together, the blade and the blood warm between them. We pray. And no one answers.”

“I saw. And I understood. Finally. Kindness. Dignity. I let the razor fall, and I understood, it was done. I’d done it. I’d surrendered, my life was no longer my life, and I whispered-

‘I swear by the spirits of my parents to avenge their deaths by spending the rest of my life warring on all criminals.’”

We have a lot to talk about on this panel. To follow up on my third paragraph, I’ll start talking about his absurd amount of empathy, as I feel like it pairs with when I stated Batman cares about the well-being of others more than his own. This extreme sense of empathy and understanding is developed when Bruce describes self-harming over (presumably) his parent’s graves. “I was alone. Like everyone else. Like everyone in Gotham. I saw everyone in Gotham, all of us. We’re all on our knees, our hands together, the blade and the blood warm between them. We pray. And no one answers.” He describes how he ‘saw everyone’ in Gotham. How all of them are going through hardships. How all of them are alone. And that’s when he understood kindness, love, dignity. And, more importantly, when he decided to give up any chance at a normal life and pursue his crusade, his destiny, of becoming the Batman. He says he swore on his parents dying souls, but he knows he swore on his own, too. 

We can also gather that this is the death of his belief in religion, ‘I prayed, and no one answered.’ The correlation with religion and a sense of innocence or fear in Batman comics isn’t unheard of, and I like to think that’s what the writer is getting at here. Batman is a known atheist, and states this multiple times in many different comics. It’s nice to know the exact time his belief in religion died, and that was when he prayed.

In conclusion, I really like this panel because you can just feel the resignation coming from Bruce. He will give up every part of himself if it means another person doesn’t have to suffer, and I think if you want to make the most accurate Batman possible, it’s important to remember that.

“So that’s what it is. The ears. The belt. The gargoyle. It’s not funny. It’s the choice of a boy that chose to die.”

“I am Batman. I am suicide.”

To wrap this up, Bruce states that he is very aware that being Batman would consume his life, would destroy any chance he had at a healthy future, and would obliterate any healthy way of healing from his trauma. He lets this pain, he lets the Batman, build him and his life and he will never let go. It literally fuels him, as you can see him pummel so many soldiers to the ground without breaking a sweat. Pain drives him. The will to be Batman drives him.

hope you enjoyed my shitty essay! please let me know any thoughts, opinions, critiques, or disagreements you might have, i’d love to hear them 

[doueverwonder]

hi hi :D! any wtt indiana thoughts to share?

I DO ACTUALLY-

so I've lived in Indiana right on the Illinois border since I was tiny, so ofc I have been pondering Indiana and Illinois' relationship a lot the past couple weeks even if I haven't been talking about it lol

They're siblings in my mind (well really the entire Midwest great lakes are siblings but that's a post for another day); their statehood days are almost exactly 2 years apart, December 11th, 1816, and December 3rd, 1818. But same as I say with Hetalia up against centuries a couple years is nothing, so they might as well be twins.

I think they were very close for most of their lives, but the breakdown of their relationship was definitely in the making for a long time. you see imo when Indiana was younger he wanted to be important, desperately so, would have done anything to be important. Indianapolis, the state capital, is modeled after DC. It's planned to be a major transport hub, and even after they find out the White River is too shallow for that the city keeps growing. and he's doing everything in how power to move it along, got that good old 'pull myself up by my bootstraps' 'if i work hard enough i'll get what i want' mentality and then looks over and Chicago in the fastest growing city in human history (literally) and Illinois doesn't even seem to be trying. In fact, he's upset about it. doesn't like Chicago.

And Indiana is horribly jealous, it drives him up the wall that he wanted to be important so badly and Illinois is the one getting the recognition he wants and can't even be grateful about it. Between 1870-1900 is when everything really falls apart, during the height of Chicago's growth, other states start paying attention to Illinois, Gov starts paying attention to Illinois. Indiana gets shoved into his little brothers shadow and I'm not going to say Illinois didn't do anything, because while he might not like Chicago he doesn't mind the extra attention and a seat closer to the head of the table. It also really doesn't help that Illinois doesn't realize how jealous Indiana is and *trying* to joke says things about getting what Indy always wanted, and it gets taken as mocking. Indiana gets cold towards him, and Illinois just reciprocate instead of asking why they grew apart.

and that runs into their current-ish relationship, "Illinois is just full of corrupt politicians" "well Indiana is nothing but backwards rednecks"; in their eyes they couldn't be less alike but they're still seen as extremely similar to a lot of other states and it drives them both more then a little nutty + drives their need to make as many back-handed comments about how different they are as often and as publicly as possible.

anyway:

tldr; Indiana wanted to be important, Illinois got the attention he wanted he got jealous and distant, Illinois can't communicate emotions and never asked why and just started being distant as well. Now they seem to get along to most other states but really are just out here insulting each other as much as possible they're just passive aggressive so no one realizes.

[moonferry]

new fsioy chapter? i hardly knew 'er! (fsioy chapter 10)

this was so heart wrenching to write. literally all i can say is im sorry.

warnings: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEATH, TRAUMATIC EVENTS, BLOOD, GUNSHOTS, EMOTIONAL BREAKDOWN, GUILT

word count: 4069

summary: after kent's heart to heart with danny, the other man took his advice and sought out lee. kent is placed on border patrol in the "least active" sector of the base, the west gate. he notices some strange moment and goes to alert a nearby officer. however, he learns danny's confession didn't go as planned and that lee went outside by himself. something happens and the trio is turned into a duo.

ao3 link: here

other chapters: chapter masterlist

July 19XX, Yard Of The Camp – Middle Of The War | A Last Day

After his chat with Danny, Kent busied himself with his daily tasks. He was currently patrolling the west side of the camp - covering for a different soldier who had been injured. He silently grumbled to himself. Why did it have to be him? There were plenty of other cadets available, but Kent seemed to get stuck with the “odd jobs” that no one else wanted to do. It’s not like he minded, though, he loved helping people out, he was just wishing he could be with his friends. 

Danny had promised Kent he’d update him on Lee’s response, but Kent wasn’t sure Danny would be able to find him all the way out here. He wanted to support his friend, but it seemed his duties would have to come first. Kent grumbled once again as he continued to walk along the perimeter. 

So far, nothing interesting had happened, and Kent was starting to wonder if this was some sort of punishment. For what? He wasn’t quite sure, but he was sure it was something. After all, Kent (and his friends) weren’t the most professional - if they were left in one location together for too long, that is. Before long, one of the three would crack a joke that would cause such an uproar of laughter that the supervising commander had to separate them - like school children. However, they would always manage to get their work done - so was it really worth punishing? 

Kent moved a few more feet and scanned the nearby woods. At his initial glance, nothing seemed off - as usual - and then he saw the briefest flash of movement. Kent squinted, holding his hand over his eyes as he blocked the harsh sunlight, and attempted to get a better look. He waited for the movement to strike again, positioning his hawk-like eyes on the spot where the movement originated from. Sure enough, it happened again: a brief flash of movement followed by the rustling of trees and the soft crunch of leaves. Kent gulped. Whatever - or whoever - was out there seemed determined to get as close to their encampment as possible. 

He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself composed, and continued watching the area in front of him. Eventually, the one behind the mysterious movement made a sloppy mistake: they moved far too slowly and Kent was able to determine it was a faint silhouette of a person. He patted his pockets, desperately searching for his walkie-talkie. Unfortunately, Kent couldn’t find it anywhere. He must’ve left it back in the soldier’s quarters. Kent mentally scolded himself. Of all the days to be careless, it had to be the one where something actually happens? You’ve got to be kidding. 

Kent attempted to calculate the distance between himself and the figure - maybe a mile or two at most - and glanced back at the safehouse, which was about twenty feet to his left. He took a deep breath as he thought out his plan of action. He would have to run back to the safehouse, find the nearest high ranking officer, and warn them. Unfortunately, while he was away, it would give the figure more time to approach. He knew he only had a short amount of time - maybe fifteen to twenty minutes - before the figure would reach the very spot he was standing at. 

Panicking, Kent turned around and sprinted towards the nearest building. He desperately searched for someone, anyone, who could help. Luckily, he soon found someone, but, in his panic, he managed to run directly into them. 

“What the hell, man?” The person replied, groaning out as they were pushed backwards by the force. 

Before Kent could reply, or even take a second to recognize the person, they spoke once again. 

“Kent?” They asked, immediately recognizing him. They took in his panicked state and their eyes widened as they spoke, “Is everything alright? What’s wrong?” 

“Something…west barrier…come…quick,” Kent spoke, hunching over and resting his hands on his thighs as he gasped for air. He ran faster than he’d ever done in his life, but he worried it still might not be fast enough. Once he managed to catch his breath, Kent glanced up and intended to apologize to whoever he’d ran into. When he looked up, however, he was extremely surprised to find Danny - a very concerned and troubled expression forming across his lips. 

“Are you sure you saw something?” Danny asked, his face paling as he thought about what could be out there. Everyone knew the Gatoran soldiers were getting bolder, but to approach their camp? Danny couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Kent nodded.

“That’s not good..” Danny spoke, pacing around anxiously. He stopped abruptly, placing two firm hands on Kent’s shoulders. When Kent looked at him, Danny’s eyes were very wide and full of fear. “Tell me exactly where, Kent.” 

“Umm..” Kent gulped, trying to think back to where he was. In his panic, he forgot to memorize any defining landmarks. Great. What exactly did he expect to happen? He would tell someone and then what? Blindly flail around as he tries to find it? That would certainly end up badly. He placed his hands on the side of his head and desperately tried to remember something. Anything. 

“Kent, please!” Danny pleaded, emotion welling up in his voice. 

“I’m trying, man!” Kent replied, defeat filling his own voice. He was getting more frustrated with himself the longer it took him to remember anything. The pressure from Danny didn’t seem to be helping, either. 

“It’s very important that you remember,” Danny spoke, trying his best to remain calm. 

“I think.. Um..” Kent stammered, groaning out in frustration as he racked his brain. 

“Kent, Lee is out there!” Danny finally revealed, pain washing over his face. 

“What?” 

“Lee is out there,” Danny confirmed, a look of absolute devastation covering his face. “He told me he ‘needed time to think’ about what I said and went on a solo scouting mission. I tried to stop him, I swear, but he didn’t want to listen to me.” He explained, a small tear rolling down his cheek.

“Now, something else is out there.. What if something happens to him, Kent?” Danny sniffled. He began pacing around once again, anxiously tugging at the sleeves of his uniform. With his next words, his voice broke, “Oh.. it’ll be all my fault..” 

“Danny, this isn’t your fault,” Kent tried to reassure his friend, placing a small hand on his shoulder to plant his feet in place. 

“Kent, we have to go after him,” Danny pleaded, his eyes becoming watery with emotion once again. He gripped Kent’s arm, attempting to tug him along as he began walking. 

“Hold on a second!” Kent protested, planting his feet to avoid being tugged along. “We don’t even know what’s out there. And, let me remind you, we don’t know where we’re going! This is stupid, Danny. We need to make a plan first.” 

“We don’t have time to make a plan,” Danny growled, frustration filling his own voice. He let go of Kent’s wrist and began walking once again. He spoke once again, hurt filling his voice, “If you won’t go with me, I’ll find him myself.” 

“Danny, wait,” Kent called after him, reaching out and grabbing his arm to stop him. “We need to think about this, please.” He pleaded. 

“You don’t understand, Kent,” Danny replied, shaking his head. He sniffled, reaching a hand up to clutch his heart. He turned back to Kent and spoke once again, tears streaming down his face, “I love him. I would never forgive myself if he got hurt.” 

With that, Danny stormed away from Kent and headed towards the western gate. Kent watched as Danny sprinted off, his eyes widening in fear. Kent raced after him. 

“Danny, wait!” He called out as he ran, desperately trying to catch up to his friend. He made it near the place he was originally and looked around the area. Kent couldn’t find a single trace of Danny or the figure and worry began to swarm around his head. 

He pressed forward, his eyes darting around as he tried to determine where Danny wandered off too. Kent was still uneasy about the figure and really didn’t like the fact that Danny left - by himself, nonetheless. 

Kent moved forward a few more feet. Yet, there was still nothing. Not a single sign of his friend. Kent knew this didn’t bode well. His stomach soured with worry as he walked farther into the clearing. There was something ominous about this wide, open field, and Kent had a horrible feeling in his gut. Everything seemed far too green and lively, but Kent couldn’t place why it bothered him.

Kent heard some clamor somewhere off to his left and darted in that direction. At first, it seemed like two voices arguing and Kent wondered if Danny had apprehended the figure. Then, out of nowhere, the voices stopped abruptly, interrupted by a sharp, piercing bang. A loud groan followed suit and Kent’s heart sank even further. He knew that voice anywhere. The noise came from Danny. Kent’s breathing seemed much harder all of a sudden. He gripped his chest and sprinted towards the direction of the sound. 

The first thing Kent noticed was the smell. The air felt tainted and seemed to swarm with a sudden metallicity. The next thing Kent noticed was a figure hunched over, grasping his side, and the growing pool beneath his feet. 

“Oh my Yoba,” Kent exclaimed, approaching the figure. When he looked upon their face, his heart constricted in his chest. It was painted with an expression of pain, though they appeared to be smiling. 

“Danny, are you okay?” Kent spoke, his breath hitching in his throat as he looked at his friend - swaying from side to side and clutching his side with one hand, which now appeared to be coated in a dark crimson grime. 

“I think I found the figure, Kent,” Danny replied weakly. He swayed once again, slowly tipping as he lost his balance. Danny abruptly collapsed to the ground, hitting the ground beneath with a small thud. 

Kent gasped out and ran to his friend. He kneeled down, cradling Danny to his chest. He examined his friend and noticed a large, gaping hole on the side of his abdomen. Kent’s breathing hitched again and he quickly placed his hands over the wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding so he could think. What would you usually do in this situation? Try and stop the bleeding with fabric, probably. Use something to absorb it until help could arrive.. The problem was, Kent didn’t have any fabric. Unless.. He glanced at his wrist and stared at Jodi’s hair tie. His lower lip quivered, but he didn’t hesitate to rip the tie off his arm - struggling slightly because his hands were now coated in a slick grime. He quickly bunched it up and pressed it against Danny’s side. He silently apologized to Jodi, but felt like she would understand. 

“You’re gonna be okay, Danny,” Kent spoke, panic filling his voice. He gulped and looked around the area. He didn’t hear any receding footsteps, so the figure could still be present. He had to be careful. He glanced back down at Danny and noticed his own hands were shaking. 

“Kent,” Danny spoke, shaking his head lightly with a groan of pain as Kent pressed down harder on his wound. He was straining, as if every word he spoke was painful, but spoke again anyway, “You have to leave me here. I don’t think they left.” 

“Danny, no,” Kent protested, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He looked at Danny once again and choked back his tears. He had never seen his friend this pale. “I’m not going to leave you,” he protested further. 

“You have to make it back, Kent,” Danny started, reaching his hand up and resting it against Kent’s face - coating the side of his cheek with the slick crimson. He added weakly, “For my sister.” 

“Danny, don’t say that,” Kent pleaded, sniffling as he leaned into Danny’s palm. The edges of his vision blurred as salty tears began pouring out. He shook his head, a false determination filling his voice, “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to make it back, too.”

Danny smiled up at Kent, though he shook his head. 

“No.. You are, I know it,” Kent spoke, his voice breaking even further as he spoke the next words, “You have to get back to the city. Your family, man. I know you miss them.” 

Danny started to speak again, but he was interrupted with a massive coughing fit. As he coughed, blood spurted out his mouth and trailed down his lips. 

Kent shook his head, trying to convince himself that this wasn’t real. That this wasn’t happening. He reached one hand up and clasped it around Danny’s, squeezing hard enough to break his fingers. 

“You’re gonna.. You’re gonna be okay, Danny..” Kent spoke again, trying to reassure himself more than Danny at this point. His breath hitched in his throat once again. 

“Hey, Kent?” Danny spoke once again, getting the attention of the other boy.

“Yeah, Dan?” Kent answered, looking at Danny and gulping once again. 

“I’m glad I met you,” Danny said, his voice barely audible. He closed his eyes, letting himself fall slack against Kent’s chest. 

Kent watched this happen and shook his head, his breathing increasing in speed. He wrapped his free arm around Danny’s shoulders, propping him up. 

“No no no no,” He spoke, shaking his head even faster, “This isn’t happening. Danny, you’re fine, okay? Stay with me.”

“Stay with me, Danny,” Kent spoke again, the tears once again spilling over. “Please,” He sobbed, his body hunching over as he cradled Danny closer to him. 

But there was no response. Another sob heaved from Kent’s chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around Danny’s shoulders, his tears spilling onto the other’s uniform. He waited there for a moment, simply cradling Danny’s still warm body against him. 

Kent attempted to push himself into a standing position before reaching down and placing Danny in his arms. He heaved another sob and willed his legs to begin walking. He couldn’t stay here, he knew that. He also knew it would be much easier if he left Danny behind, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Kent’s legs wobbled and buckled as he attempted to bring himself back to camp. Tears continued to stream down Kent’s face.

All he wanted to do, all he could think to do, was scream. So he did. Kent screamed at the top of his lungs, he screamed until his voice turned raw and his throat burned, he screamed until the only sound he could make was nothing but a pathetic squeak. 

“Help me!” Kent yelled, still holding Danny’s rapidly cooling body. “Somebody! Anybody! Help me,” He called out again, his voice going hoarse from the lengthy use. 

“Please..” He called out again, his voice much quieter this time. He sniffled as he realized nobody was coming to help. There wasn’t anyone around. Why would there be? No one ever went to the west gate, because nothing ever happened at the west gate. He wanted to shake his fist and curse the heavens, to blame Yoba for everything and call them several names that would make a sailor blush, but he didn’t. Kent finally realized something: this wasn’t Yoba’s fault. Yoba had no part in this. This was a place without a higher power. This was war. 

Eventually, Kent stumbled his way across the fence line and slumped against the nearest building - a small, rundown fishing shack that likely hadn’t been used since before the war began. He was tired, drained, and had just lost one of  his best friends in the world.

Kent couldn’t help but blame himself. If he hadn’t been careless, if he had never forgotten his walkie-talkie, none of this would’ve happened. His mind kept swarming with a bunch of “if onlys”: if only he had listened to Danny, if only he went with him in the first place, if only he never encouraged him to tell Lee - that way there was nothing to chase after. 

No, he didn’t mean that last one. Kent had been rooting for Danny and Lee. It was heartwarming when he noticed them joking together or the way Danny seemed to become a blushing mess whenever he was around Lee. Thinking about that made his heart ache. To think, just a day ago, the three of them were laughing together - acting as if they were untouchable and unafraid. Now, all Kent could describe himself as was afraid. Afraid of what came next, afraid of losing more people, afraid of losing himself, too. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if he was in Danny’s place. He didn’t want to imagine it, either. 

Kent pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face in the rough fabric of his uniform and cried once again. It was a wonder how he still managed to produce tears, but they kept flowing. He couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t stop anything. Once again, it felt like everything was spiraling out of control; he was getting swept along against his will. He didn’t look up when soft footsteps approached him.

“Are ye alright, lad?” A familiar voice spoke. Kent glanced up. It was Willy. Kent had never been more grateful to see the ship captain. Willy had been doing his own rounds - at the request of one of the generals - and stumbled upon Kent. 

He shook his head no before motioning to Danny, who was laying a few feet away in the grass - he couldn’t make himself say the word “corpse”. Willy’s lips formed into a thin line as he took in the scene: Kent, obviously distraught - his eyes red and puffy - and covered in blood, another recruit who lay unmoving in the grass, also covered in blood. The boy in front of him looked like a scared animal of sorts. It broke Willy’s heart. 

“Ah…” The man spoke with a curt nod. He crouched down, placing a gentle hand on Kent’s shoulder before speaking, “I need ye to be honest with me, boy. Did you do this?” 

Kent shook his head once again. He glanced over at Danny and felt another sob build in his chest. 

Willy nodded once again. He exhaled a deep breath, trying his best to work out the situation. If Kent wasn’t responsible, who was? He needed to find out, to make sure the other recruits were safe. 

“Can you tell me exactly what happened, lad?” Willy asked, though he wasn’t sure Kent would be much help. The poor boy appeared to be in a state of shock, barely holding himself together. He was breathing very heavily and shaking. Willy was honestly quite worried. 

Kent hesitated, unsure if he was ready to dive into everything that has just happened yet, and gave a small, uncertain nod. 

“Alright,” Willy spoke, his tone shifting to a much softer one as he addressed Kent once again, “but I need you to work with me, lad. I need you to speak, if you can.” 

Kent gulped, but he recalled the entire events - having to stop every few words and give Willy a head shake or nod.

“That’s troubling..” The older man spoke, resting his hand against his chin in contemplation. 

He looked at Kent once again, his expression softening. He placed another firm, yet gentle hand on Kent’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry that happened to you and yer friend, lad. That’s terrible - fer anyone.” 

Kent sniffled and looked up at Willy. Before he could stop himself, Kent reached out and wrapped his arms around the older man, burying his face in the fabric of his coat. 

Willy’s eyes widened, though he wrapped his arms back around Kent, cradling him close to his chest. Like a father would. Like Kent’s father would, exactly like Kent’s father would, to be exact. Kent swore it felt similar to the experience at his wedding. 

“I want to go home,” Kent mumbled, sniffling once again. He knew it sounded childish, but it was all he could think of right now. His heart ached to be home;  to be in the city, to be back in Jodi’s arms and to put this entire thing behind him. 

“I know, my boy. I know,” Willy spoke once again, giving Kent a fatherly pat on his back. Willy didn’t have children of his own - he didn’t even have someone his heart sought after - but he was always envious of Chris. Willy dreamed of having a son like Kent, he just never imagined it would happen under these circumstances. 

Willy pulled away from the hug and glanced at Kent’s state - still covered in now dried (and crusty) blood. He pushed himself into a standing position, dusting off his own uniform, before reaching a hand out and helping Kent up. 

“Ye can go clean yerself up, laddy. I’ll tell the others about that friend of yours,” Willy explained carefully. He watched Kent, inspecting him and making sure he didn’t fall, before walking towards Danny and gently scooping the body into his arms. Kent watched the scene, watched his friend’s lifeless body lull and sag in Willy’s arms. It made his stomach churn with guilt. Kent once again thought about how this was all his fault. 

He couldn’t bear to look anymore, but he couldn’t make himself peel his eyes away. Kent’s eyes seemed to follow Willy as he walked away - Danny in his arms -, his eyes clinging to the once lively, now still silhouette of his friend. He only looked away when Willy was too far to see clearly. Then, Kent slowly stumbled his way to the soldier’s quarters. He nearly tripped several times, but Kent could seem to make himself care. His mind was far too preoccupied. 

He made his way towards the showers and removed his bloody clothing. It was likely ruined, but Kent’s didn’t care. After all, it was just clothing, he could always get more. But he couldn’t get another friend like Danny, couldn’t bring him back, couldn’t yell and scream at the clock, begging it to turn back and choose someone else, he couldn’t do anything. He turned the water on, setting it to scorching, and hopped beneath the pitiful stream of the showerhead. 

As he stood there and attempted to scrub the caked grime from his body, he made the mistake of closing his eyes. Every time his eyes would flutter shut - even if just for a moment - he was overcome with images of Danny in his final moments. Of images of the gaping wound in his body, pouring out streams of his lifeforce with every desperate attempt Kent made to save him, of the ruined hair tie that he’d never get to return to Jodi, of everything wrong with himself and the world. He moved to the corner of the small, square shower, and huddled himself into a small ball - his knees tight to his chest - and sobbed once again. The water pelted down on him, likely bruising his arms due to the harshness of it. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled to himself, in between his heart wrenching sobs, “I’m so sorry, Danny.” Kent hugged his knees even tighter, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to fill it with memories where Danny was smiling, or laughing, but all that came was the image of Danny coughing, the blood slowly trailing down his lips and pooling on his neck. His hands tingled, as if they remembered the temperature shift where Danny’s lively warmth was replaced with an alien coldness. 

Kent couldn’t help but think about Danny’s family and how they would feel upon receiving the news. Half his family probably wouldn’t find out until they made their own journey home, given that his brothers were currently in service elsewhere. He thought about how sad Danny appeared when he mentioned the city. He thought about how Danny would never get to return to the city, to see his family again, or even to start one of his own. It was all too much. Everything was too much. And Kent couldn’t take it.

[dotterelly]

Hey, so I just wanted to say how nice it's been to vibe with you all today. Seriously, thank you. It's been a long time since I last really interacted with any kind of fandom community, and I wasn't sure about joining one again. I've not been in the best place mentally recently, but I've had such a good time and I'm so grateful to everyone for facilitating that.

I have more to say but I'm throwing it under a cut because it'll be long and not relevant to most people here.

For a long time I've not chosen to join communities for things I liked, either because I already had friends to chat with about it, or because I just kind of felt like people would hate me (I have an internal voice that's always telling me people hate me it sucks ass). Like I seriously think the last time I interacted with a fan community in any meaningful way was the yogscast back in 2012 (yes, I am old.).

In the time between, I've had some big life upheavals and some subsequent mental health breakdowns. I've never got really bad with it, but this last year a lot of the big changes in my life have caught up with me. Turns out immigrating to America the day they closed the borders for covid to enter lockdown in an unfamiliar country with barely any local friends isn't good for your mental state. (Still worth it, I got the best husband ever out of the deal. I'd do it again every time.)

I found the qsmp at my lowest point of last year, when a situation with a colleague and a sudden change in position and responsibility at work caused a 2 week long anxiety attack in a way I've never experienced before, with a side of insomnia. I fell back on old coping habits and found something to escape into, and starting with technoblade I consumed a vast amount of media in a short amount of time, catching up with half a decade of minecraft stuff I'd missed out on. Finally deciding I wanted to follow Philza going forward, I then spent 2 months catching up on all his qsmp vods. I've not been this into something for a long time, and my desire to find people I could screech with when stuff went down brought me round to dusting off my mildly neglected Tumblr account. And I'm so glad I did. I didn't know how much I missed this sort of community.

Thanks to everyone who's interacted with me directly or with my posts in the last couple of weeks. As a heads up, I am not good at consistent tagging and I will just reblog and post any random crap I like in a sort of crazed stream of consciousness, so follow at your own risk! Also I truly intend to just vibe and not engage in any fandom drama. If I reblog anything controversial it is most likely because I'm new and didn't know, or because my neurodivergent ass did not pick up the context or subtext of the thing I reblogged. I do have opinions about things, but I simply do not have the emotional or mental health capacity to properly research situations or deal with discourse like that rn. I just want to vibe and see cool art and fics and theorise a bit and maybe make some friends if I find people I click with.

So that's a bit of an introduction to who I am and what I am about. Thank you all again so much for helping me start to rebuild myself again after a shitty end to the last year. I hope to continue this adventure with everyone going forwards! <3

[leyyvi]

Do you have a least favorite (or one you simply don’t like) character from aot?

this is hard bc after the finale theres not a character i necessarily dont like anymore lol. i guess my least faves were zeke (he will never be redeemed to me he killed my wife's husband okay :/// also ill never forgive what he did to miche!!!) i didn't like armin much either on my first watch but then over time he's grown on me especially after the finale :( his mental breakdown in the finale was just...so raw and real and related so much oh man.

and honestly i never liked eren too much (he just yells a lot in s1-3 LOL and my faves are all the quiet stoic types so) but then s4 happened and well listen. he was hot ok. im not immune to s4 manbun eren :/ (also he was loud but s1-3 eren is very cute he's precious i'm so very conflicted with him)

also didn't like reiner because of his interactions with historia it just felt offputting/bordering on creepy and weird sometimes and i never found it funny lol and i dont think we got enough time with porco for me care about him much.

DESPITE THAT i wouldnt say i hate any of them?? they have qualities i like and dont like that's it really. oh i guess i hate floch but i feel like that's a given LOOL

[maegalkarven]

I am normal and do not have divine intervention in form of vivid visions of the scenarios with my ocs.

I particularly did not have a VERY DETAILED vision of Levi and Karlach's massive freaking fight bordering on murder after the meeting at the Wyrm Rock keep.

I did not have to live through them saying the worst imaginable things to each other and Karlach almost attacking Levi, but him holding her down with the vines and saying how he should've killed her when his father demanded it and- wait, what?

Him remembering scraps of his past and how they knew each other eleven years ago and them having confrontation about that as well.

And Levi being fucking annoyed what the moment he finally decided to kill her Gortash shipped her away to Hells, and who does that??? He couldn't follow to Avernus and had to try to pacify his father with random tieflings' deaths, but it was not enough and Father was so angry, it was the first time Levi was punished so badly-

And Karlach being "wait, what? You were going to KILL me?"

And Levi snapping what of course he was going to kill her, killing is what he DOES, but of fucking course Gortash ruined his plans, he had to do that intentionally, that fucker-

And just flying away to confront Gortash about it and complain about his dumb ass companions who have the audacity to be horrified at the reveal what he's a Bhaalspawn and maybe (totally immediately) falling back into Gortash's embrace.

Him telling Gortash "I need to fix my mistake and kill her now" and Gortash actually talking him down from that bc "Hold on, she can be useful", which leads to Levi saying it doesn't matter, she'll die from burning out soon anyway and Gortash actually offering to fix that bc "she can be useful 2.0", the power of her rage and her engine should not be overlooked.

Which leads to even more weird situationship where Gortash fixes Karlach's engine and Levi mopes bc he's in that place of mind where he really wants her dead and he's jealous and territorial and it's the second time Gortash consequentially saves her life, what is she to him??? (He is not in the right state of mind at all. Imagine unhinged and turn it to 10)

How dare Gortash care about anyone but him, no one but the two of them matter!!!

Which leads to Levi realizing Father punished him for not killing Gortash when he ordered it (before Moonrise Towers), what Orin stabbing him was the result of that, and having several mental breakdowns all over the place and Gortash having to calm him down AGAIN, because it's the professional murderer and world-ender in a frenzy one step from committing mass murder RIGHT THERE.

The team realizing what the only thing keeping Levi in check is actually freaking Chosen of Bane, as Levi laments what he couldn't realize this plan alone, or maybe he could, but he would not. It was supposed to be him and Gortash as the last people alive, not Levi killing him so early and moving on with the plan all by himself.

Levi, knowing what if he does not defy his Father, the first thing Father will order would be to slay Bane's Chosen, and knowing what there's no way for him to survive defying Bhaal and what even death will not free him, he will just return to father and, who knows, maybe father will just pull him right back as he did with Sarevok.

Levi trying to convince Gortash he has to proceed with the plan alone because the moment Levi slays Orin, it will be his end.

Trying to talk Gortash into it, even going as far as trying to offer him the astral prism (after the careful inquiry if the prism will protect him and the team if it's away from them. Turns out it would if Emperor wills it).

Telling Gortash how to find the temple and get the netherstones from his body, warning him "these wannabe heroes would try to stop you, don't let them", telling Gortash he'll probably have to kill Elder Brain bc the crown changed it too much, asking him not to rely on Bane because "gods are not the answer".

Just being all over the place in a frantic, panicked state of his what's as dangerous as a lit up bomb, and then leaving.

Gortash, being Gortash, absolutely refusing to accept the fact what the only person he ever truly cared for, his only equal, is going to die like that and researching all the possible ways to change it/ stop it from happening.

The poor freaking team having a front seat to the worst and the most confusing freaking situationship.

Karlach trying to grasp how is it her practically best friend is her enemy now and it's GORTASH who plays middle ground and stops them from killing each other.

The entire freaking team just being Concerned As Fuck and trying to adjust their image of Levi who turned out to be someone completely different from who they thought him to be.

Just...the entity of act 3 being a mess and full of revelations and it's a miracle they all survive through it.

Levi and Karlach eventually make peace with each other bc neither of them truly meant all the shit they said/did at their fight, they were just hurt, betrayed, scared, angry and lashing out.

The entire team trying to search for a way for Levi not to die because he's an asshole and says a lot of awful things, but his actions say otherwise. He speaks of unleashing horrors and lashes out a lot, yet somehow always manages to make things better and save just another stray soul.

Having the entire "Alright, let's save Levi" council with Gortash in it because they find out he's searching for a way to save Levi too.

Wyll manages to bargain his father back because this is Wyll, come on. The price of it is stealing something for Gortash from Hells bc Gortash has no time to participate in heists anymore and he needs some particular thing like yesterday (the thing turns out to be orphic hammer. Huh)

Just...that. Everyone inevitably working towards a common goal of saving 1 (one) Cursed Child of Bhaal and Levi, meanwhile, having no idea they're doing that.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒳𝐼: 𝐵𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒫𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓈 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you again to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

TW: crying, panic attack, discussions of guilt, mentions of prior sex scene

Summary: The possibility of seeing Vincent reinstated to the High Table forces John to think about what he's been doing. What does it mean to be falling for someone as violent as the Marquis de Gramont?

It was difficult to think of Vincent as dangerous, perched on a log with his feet swinging just above the leaves, with Dog upside down in his lap to get belly rubs. They’d just cleaned him up and changed his bandages, which was tough without the use of a sink. But it definitely had to be done. Sitting across from him with his shirt still unbuttoned, John struggled to reconcile that image with two others: Vincent writhing in ecstasy on top of him, and Vincent delighting in cruelty as he aimed a gun at his head in front of the Basilica.

What did I just do?

This was the exact thought John had been trying to avoid when he turned down the Marquis’ proposition in the motel. Saving his life was one thing – that was just the humane thing to do. Sympathizing with him, trying to put him in a good enough mood to not have a mental breakdown - that was common decency. Fucking him raw on a boulder? Well. That was a little harder to explain to himself.

And falling for him…he wasn’t even ready to think about that part.

He hadn’t thought about any of this, hadn’t invited it. Hadn’t even considered dating after Helen. And for it to be the Marquis de Gramont, former Autem Imperator of the High Table… There was a good reason he wasn’t thinking too much about everything the Marquis had done. Some of those acts were truly atrocious. Charon, the massacre at Osaka…Koji. Would he kill that way again? Did he feel one ounce of remorse for any of it?

“Daydreaming, John?” The Marquis was grinning at him, and the dissonance between that image and his thoughts made him feel a little sick.

John shook himself. “Sorry.” He looked away to the paper cups piled around Vincent, crushed flat and used as vessels for Vincent’s scribbling during his drug fueled hyperactivity the night before. John had gathered them up before leaving, in case any contained some coherent idea, and Vincent had been reviewing them as the sun climbed higher and higher in a crystalline blue sky. “Find anything?”

“Maybe. I was…hmm. Let’s just say some of these sounded better at the time.” He squinted quizzically at one that John couldn’t make out clearly from a distance, but he could see that it included several repeats of the word “kill.”

“There is one…” he continued. “It’s bold. But the present circumstances call for boldness. And when was anything truly great accomplished without it?”

John waited expectantly for him to name this bold plan. He tossed over a paper cup, and John caught it. “The Elder,” he read. Nothing else was written. “There’s a new Elder?”

“He assumed the role just before my trial began.”

John turned the cup over in his hands, considering. “…I don’t know…I tried that. Twice. The advice wasn’t worth the time.”

Vincent laughed. “Oh, no no no. I’m not going to ask his advice. I’m going to hold him at knifepoint until he agrees to reinstate me.”

“That…is a better idea.” Not a good idea. But better. “Do you know where he is?”

“I do! Information is power, no? I took as much as I could when things began to…disintegrate.” A shadow passed over Vincent’s face at the memory. “Anyway. He camps at the ‘Hidden Peak’ of the Himalayas, Gasherbrum I.”

John whistled. “The Chinese - Pakistani border. Can’t reach that by car.”

“So get me a flight.”

That would be a problem. They could hardly just walk into an airport. But… “There may be a way.”

“Excellent!” The Marquis clapped his hands and bounced off the log, sauntering towards John. “What a splendid day. Not even noon, and we’ve accomplished so much.” His eyes wandered over John’s bare chest. Clearly, he didn’t just mean the plan.

He shifted slightly, self-conscious. “It won’t be simple. You’re familiar with the Bowery network?”

“Obviously. What a brilliant idea. This is why you are so useful, Mr. Wick. They aren’t on the best terms with the Table just now, but they seem to have a soft spot for you. With you and your puppy dog eyes, I might just have a chance.”

“No. Not even with me. I go alone, and come back with our travel plans.”

“And I go where, exactly?” Looming over him with his brow tilted down suspiciously, it was suddenly no longer so difficult to believe Vincent was dangerous.

Good question. “Somewhere safe, nearby.” That seemed to satisfy him, as that dangerous look vanished in favor of a shy smile. John stood up, pacing. He didn’t like this at all. “That’s impossible at the New York headquarters. Too crowded. But the Jersey location…” He sighed and came to a stop directly in front of Vincent. “You sure this is the plan?”

“I wouldn’t say we have the luxury of sitting idly by for another three days trying to come up with a new one.”

“No.”

So, within minutes, John’s usual decisiveness had put them on the move again, still sticking to winding back roads. Vincent’s good spirits could not be contained. He chattered away from under the blanket in the backseat, requesting snacks and changes to the radio channels. John, on the other hand, couldn’t bring himself to say much. He had been running on the hope that they’d be delayed long enough for the Marquis to come around to retirement. If he had thought, on that first day, that there was any real possibility of his reinstatement…would he have done anything differently? Could he bring himself to do anything differently now?

“You’re quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Not like this.” Vincent huffed a nervous laugh. “I know this morning was delectable but I didn’t think it would steal your powers of speech. If I didn’t know better, I’d think…maybe you regretted it.”

“I don’t. It was…I – you’re gorgeous.” That was true. John could almost hear him smiling in the silence that followed.

“What are you thinking about, then?”

“…What are you going to do, if you get reinstated?”

“Rule. Solidify control over the eastern United States, where our punishments have grown disappointingly lax. South America can use significant development. Our prosperity has made us complacent. There is still room to expand the empire, even internally. Morale is low and the Table is divided against itself. Those with loyalty should be rewarded, to act as icons of inspiration. At the same time, our reach is more extensive than it has ever been. With the proper motivation, we could bring about the golden age of the High Table.” It seemed Vincent could listen to himself talk about this all day. “Imagine every High Table member being offered access to a political office of their choosing. Imagine monuments constructed in the Table’s honor, right under the noses of the public who think they are simply public installations. These would stand as testament to my own legacy, over and above the Table as a whole. I would be remembered as a great patron. We could expand funding for arts, historical documentation, and education. Gratuity programs for those who have shown themselves to be exceptionally dedicated. And of course, earning at least doubled over a ten year period - ”

“That level of expansion would be a bloodbath.”

“Such is life. Did you think I was planning to turn the Table into an orphanage for kittens? Maybe you have too weak a stomach for it, but I have my goals, as you’ve known from the beginning, and I will carry them out.”

“No. I will stop you.”

A tense silence followed. Vincent didn’t even seem to be breathing.

“Do you understand why?” John kept his voice deliberately level, flattening out both anger and pity. “You’ve killed my friends. And just…decent people. I will not let that happen again.”

“I didn’t kill them, you did,” he snapped. “I seem to recall that it was you who came begging to Winston until he meddled so much he got his concierge executed. Executed for you. It was you who led Caine to Koji’s doorstep. You’re irresponsible, can’t bow down to the level where you belong even for the sake of those you supposedly care for. It’s your fault they’re dead, your ego.”

For a moment, the wave of rage and guilt that washed through his gut was so deep that he couldn’t speak. Then, John forced himself to acknowledge that hurt as Vincent’s own, thrust onto the nearest possible vessel because he did not know how to endure it himself. John took a deep breath and did his best to lead by example. “Yes. I could have prevented their deaths too. I live with that every day.”

“What a saint. You’ve killed hundreds of people, Wick.”

“And it still matters whether or not I kill one more tomorrow.”

“Maybe I want to kill one more tomorrow. What then?”

“I’d be disappointed.”

No answer came. Somewhere near the state border, sunlight cast rapidly flickering dappled shadows from the leaves that rose up in verdant arches on either side of them, almost tall enough to meet in the middle. John realized he had driven this road once, with Helen, on the way to the beach, and the melancholic dread that had crept up on him ever since the morning sunk right down to the bones. I don’t want to kill Vincent someday. Please. He had to come around, he had to.

It took a while for him to realize that Vincent was locked in a pit of agony. The giveaway was the total lack motion, even the slightest rustling of blankets. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just – “ His voice was muffled and he could not continue. John twisted around over the seat to see a motionless lump in the blanket indicating that Vincent was hiding his face in his hands even though he was already completely concealed. Sighing, he pulled over, parking just beyond the shoulder of the road. The sudden absence of engine noise made the moment feel awkwardly raw. In its place, he could hear slow, heavy breaths.

Vincent broke that silence first. “If I die of a heart attack, it will be because you tried to guilt me when you know I’m already dreadfully unwell.”

“You won’t die. You’re strong and you can face this. Breathe through it.”

He pushed the blanket off of his face and stared at the ceiling, arms lying on his chest in a death pose, deep in some internal struggle. So he had the capacity to struggle. He was alive in there. John pined. To help him, to hold him. But what Vincent needed most now was some confidence that he could endure this feeling without numbing it away. Another breathless silence, before Vincent’s voice came to him, extremely brittle and pained. “How do you do it? You said you live with – with it. How?”

“You won’t like this, but, love.”

Vincent gave a broken laugh. “Oh, va te faire foutre. [Oh, fuck off.]”

“Well, that’s how.”

“That doesn’t even mean anything.”

“It does.” John gathered his thoughts before trying to explain. “The way I see it, there’s no atoning for the things we’ve done. That constant call towards self-punishment…it’s pointless. We can’t change the past. But love is beyond blame or atonement. It’s pure…grace.”

“Isn’t grace for people who are actually trying to stop sinning? I don’t want to stop. The freedom to do as I please has served me excellently and I’m having a good time,” he said, wiping at his eyes.

“Vincent – “

“Va chier [Fuck you]. I have no interest in becoming a speck of dust on the floor. This is who I am. I act for my own glorification. It’s idiocy, what you’re asking for. You ask a man to blow up his own life’s work, turn away from pleasure, and dive into pure self-flagellation until he withers away to a shell of himself.”

“There is no withering involved. I want you to have forgiveness. The way this feels…I don’t want you to go through this. Don’t add wrongs on top of each other.”

He was barely speaking, just mouthing words as he sucked in air violently, his chest rising and falling rapid fire. “I ca- I can’t…”

“Hey. It’s okay. Breathe.” John got out and came around to the side door. “Up.” Vincent managed to sit up and slide over, but his face was hidden in his hands again and he was shuddering terribly. John pulled him into his arms. “If you can’t right now, okay. But I’m not giving up on you.”

“Tu es un connard têtu, [You’re a stubborn asshole,]”  he said, muffled, and hugged John back.

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹

[kingslionheart]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Rules: answer the questions and tag fifteen mutuals

I have been tagged by @aelflaeds and @aethelflaedel, thank you both for the tag!!

1. Are you named after anyone?

Well... not an actual person, let's say that, I will not elaborate.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Three days ago, worst mental breakdown in months :')

3. Do you have kids?

Nope

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

It depends, but mostly yes!!

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Eyes

6. What's your eye colour?

Green with some shades of brown

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I don't really enjoy scary movies so I guess happy endings!

8. Any special talents?

I think the way I fail each time at the same exact thing at work can be considered a special talent OR???

9. Where were you born?

Italy, which is both a bless and a curse

10. What are your hobbies?

Reading, editing, watching silly little shows like tlk and reading historical things for the fun of it

11. Have you any pets?

Yes!! I have a dog, he's a border collie and his name is Tommy, my favourite boy out there <33

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I have played judo, basketball and probably something else I can't remember right now, but they all have one thing in common: I have quit after a few weeks in all of them :/

13. How tall are you?

167cm

14. Favorite subject in school?

Italian, English and history

15. Dream job?

Historian, especially a medievalist (I have screamed when I have read the same for you @aethelflaedel, you get me)

No pressure tags @lannisterdaddyissues @corinthussy @muddleofnervouswords @wildwren @ivyithink @osferth @silentsihtric @saint-helga @demythesimp @lllostgirlll @bisarcastic @beterparker @naps4bats @errruvande and whoever wants to do it as well <3

[l1teraryangel]

In Another Life (Ch. 10)

Chapter Warnings: VERY Mild Sexual Content

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

Holding himself, Ryou sighed. “I know everything I’ve said seems crazy. That’s why I was hoping to wait it out, to avoid trying to explain everything.” He rubbed his arms, though the motion provided little comfort. “This is actually the second realm I’ve been in. The last one was… We’ll say rough. That’s a good summary term.”

“Have… you been here all day?”

Ryou glanced at Touzoku-Ou, whose expression suddenly seemed quite shy. “I woke up on the couch. I guess after your Ryou went to lay down from the headache?”

Bakura’s face flushed. “You… In the bed, then…”

“That’s why I tried to stop you. Why I, uh, ran away to the bathroom.” Ryou knew his face matched Bakura’s, right down to the same red cheeks. “F-For what it’s worth, like I said, this is his body. I just… It wasn’t right.” His voice trailed off, sadness clouding his eyes. “No matter how much I miss my Bakura and Touzoku-Ou… I knew it wasn’t right to let things go any further. I shouldn’t have let them go so far in the first place.”

Without warning, Diabound shoved her snout into his stomach. “Want masssster back.”

A half-hearted laugh slipped from Ryou’s lips. “I got that. Trust me, I want your master to come back, too. I want to go home.” The words shattered the dam he built up, the tears haunting him from earlier overflowing in an instant. “Fuck… I’m sorry… I just… I really do want to go home. It feels like a lifetime since I was in my own body.”

Uncertain, Touzoku-Ou petted Ryou’s head, and Bakura sighed, moving in to offer a hug. Ryou hungrily accepted the offer, burying his face into Bakura’s chest despite the other gasping and hesitating to fully embrace him. Touzoku-Ou wrapped his arms around both of them, resting his forehead on Ryou.

As the three of them stood there, awkward but desperate, Diabound gazed back towards the circus. A true laugh, unhindered by his melancholy, escaped Ryou when he heard her hiss, “Hungry sssstill.”

With a roll of his eyes, Touzoku-Ou hauled the snake onto his shoulders, grunting from the effort. “Come on, you pain in the ass, I’ll feed you. God, you could stand to skip a meal, though.”

“Issss musssscle, Masssster. Be sssstronger.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Somehow you’ve gained weight since Ryou started feeding you. I think he’s been overgenerous with your portions.”

“Leave besssst Masssster out of thissss.”

“Oh ho! You admit it, finally! You do like Ryou more than me!”

Bakura snorted and, with his arm wrapped around Ryou’s shoulders, pulled him along behind Touzoku-Ou, who continued to argue with his snake. “Ignore them. We listen to this shit on a daily basis.”

“What, uh… What is she? For that matter, what is this world? I thought it was a normal circus this morning, but obviously, I was wrong.”

“Not sure about Diabound. Touzoku-Ou hatched her when he was a kid, said he found her egg alone in the forest. One day she started talking to him. As for everything else…” Bakura wobbled his head left to right, thoughtfully choosing his words. “Magic exists. Everyone is human, far as I know, but some of us have… talents. Touzoku-Ou, for example, can commune with spirits. Ties it into his act.”

Ryou’s smile spread from ear to ear. “That’s so cool. I can do magic in my realm, too. I’m… kinda relieved that this isn’t a magic-less world. Would have made things a lot trickier. But, then again, I wouldn’t have been ratted out by a snake if there wasn’t magic.”

Bakura hummed, amusement glinting in his eyes. “True. Diabound never keeps secrets from the three of us, so unfortunate that you chose to divulge the info to her.”

“I’m glad, to be honest. I feel better, being able to vent, being open. I think I was bordering on a mental breakdown this morning. Having you two around, listening to me, comforting me, making me laugh… It was familiar, and it worked wonders.”

“Guess I should apologize for the way we jumped you.”

“No need. You didn’t know who or what I was. Believe it or not, that was also familiar.” Ryou giggled. “I’m just not used to being on the other end of that aggression.”

The two continued their chat with Touzoku-Ou occasionally jumping in between his exchanges with Diabound. They filled Ryou in on the circus, everyone’s roles and relationships, the things they knew about the fantastical and unusual ongoings in the world. In return, Ryou told them bits and pieces about his relationship with their counterparts, the history of the Millennium Items, and the adventure he unwillingly found himself locked into.

By the time the three of them were satisfied with their information swap, the moon replaced the sun, sitting high and proud in the sky like a Cheshire grin. They barely reached the RV they all shared when Touzoku-Ou swung around, terror written across his face.

“Baku, we forgot about Mai!”

“...Shit.”

 

***

 

Separated by Yugi’s magic circle, Bakura and Touzoku-Ou sat across from their doppelgangers, mirrored save for the blood stains and bruises Isis had yet to heal. Distaste for the situation exceeding his limits, Bakura clucked his tongue.

“This is fucking boring. Does the pharaoh really need this much sleep?”

Touzoku-Ou shrugged, a sly smirk on his face. “I’ll go wake him up, if you promise to keep Yugi off my ass.”

“It’s… like half an hour until two? Those guys are probably up already, hiding away to cuddle.” Bakura feigned a gag. “Nasty bastards.”

“This is Malik’s fault for ditching his shift. We could have been cuddling, too,” Touzoku-Ou joked, laughing when Bakura pulled a face. “What, you don’t wanna cuddle me, Habibi? I see how it is, only Ryou gets your cuddles.”

Stamping his heels into the floor, Bakura rose, glaring at his lover. “I’m going to grab Kaiba’s dog and make him buy us lunch. Preference, jackass?”

“Food. Anything sounds real good. Better make it a quadruple portion, though. We should probably feed our other selves here, lest they wither away.”

“That would be a travesty.”

Bakura sauntered off, stopping only for a moment to check over Ryou and brush a kiss on his forehead. He shut the door behind him, leaving Touzoku-Ou in silence with the other-realmers. The thief king rolled his shoulders, flexed his legs, and let out a loud yawn.

“For two psycho killers, you’re awful boring, y’know?”

They studied him, unmoved by the insult. His mirrored self remarked coolly, “And what about you? Apparently some Ancient Egyptian thief, yet here you are reduced to a mundane existence where the only benefits are your partner and your comatose pet over there.”

“Both of whom are fantastic,” Touzoku-Ou returned and flopped onto his side, propped on his left elbow. “Maybe you’d understand if you treated your Ryou better.”

Other Bakura sneered. “We treat him plenty well if and when he behaves.”

“Somehow I think your idea of well differs from his.” He examined his right hand, fondly rolling an intricate gold band with two jewels, one obsidian and one white moonstone. “I pity you, trapped in such a dark state of being. It reminds me how I used to be. How I’m sure Bakura was.”

“The nerve of this guy,” Other Touzoku-Ou snapped, fingers twitching and teeth gritted. “How dare you sit there saying you pity us when you’re a slave to someone as weak as Ryou, when you live content with this average man’s life. If I had powers like yours, I’d make myself a god.”

Touzoku-Ou chuckled and dropped his hand back down. “Yup, you’re just like how I used to be. Consumed by greed, hungry for power, driven by hatred.” His eyes hardened. “The biggest difference is that unlike you, I would never hurt Ryou. He’s part of my family. I knew from the second I saw him we were meant to be together.”

Rolling his eyes, Bakura rested back on his hands, a casual posture to accompany his growing disdain. “We knew we were meant to be with Ryou, too, you arrogant bastard. The problem is he didn’t appreciate our feelings for him.”

“Given what I’ve heard of how he met you,” Touzoku-Ou snorted and twisted onto his back, arms folded beneath his head, “I can’t say I blame him for hating you. Why kill his family if you wanted him to love you?”

“Why?” Bakura echoed, expression morphing into a frightening grin. “They were useless baggage. He’s better off alone.”

“And want him to love us?” Touzoku-Ou restated and mimicked the expression of his partner. “We don’t give a damn if he loves us or not. He’s still ours. And we’re all he has.”

Touzoku-Ou sat up and snapped his fingers into an 'L'-shape. “So what you’re saying is… It’s a control thing. Get rid of anyone else so he’s dependent on you no matter what.”

“You understand,” Other Touzoku-Ou chortled and leaned forward. “Took you long enough.”

Smiling, cool as a cucumber, Touzoku-Ou replied, “Yeah, I get it. I was wrong about our biggest difference. It’s not our willingness or lack thereof to do harm to Ryou… It’s the fact that I actually love him, whereas you two only want to own him.” 

They guffawed over his words, but he continued, “Do you at least love each other? Are you even capable of that much?”

Returning to a more upright position, Bakura glared daggers into Touzoku-Ou’s head. “We’re fuckbuddies, we’re partners, we’re a team. I watch his back, he watches mine, and we enjoy a good romp in the sheets when we’re bored of death games. We don’t need to put a label, especially one like ‘love,’ on it.”

“So you wouldn’t die for each other?”

“I would never ask such a stupid thing,” Other Touzoku-Ou scornfully shot back. “Nor would Bakura ask me to do something so ridiculous.”

“Humor me. If it came down to it and both of you couldn’t escape a deadly situation, you would prefer to let each other die over dying yourself?”

Total silence descended amongst the men. Touzoku-Ou wondered if the scathing glares they wore were from his insistent question or their inability to reach an answer, although he truly only asked for fun. It didn’t matter since both of them would die in the end. By whose hand was yet to be determined, of course, but he hoped it was his and Bakura’s. 

Seeing the way these two treated their Ryou filled him with anger and not just on the kid’s behalf. What sort of damage had they done to his Rohi? There was no way their time with him was peaceful, and he would enjoy torturing the doppelgangers’ bodies and souls for every second of torment Ryou suffered.

“Yo, Thief King.” Bakura flicked his ear from behind. “Earth to King of Thieves. I’ve got food.”

Mouth watering at the aroma of roasted garlic and succulent steak, Touzoku-Ou snatched the food from his boyfriend. He sank his teeth into the whole garlic, salivating further over the tenderized flesh and potent taste.

“This is where you say ‘thank you, Bakura, for rewarding my bad behavior with my favorite foods,’” Bakura snarked and unpacked his own steak. “I thought about fried chicken, but I think we should save that for when Ryou wakes up.”

“Fried chicken and beer?” Touzoku-Ou grumbled around the chomps of food. “We’ll need to get him some of those tiny cakes, too.”

Bakura tore a mouthful of steak off his fork. “And creampuffs for breakfast, or he might disown us.” He gave Touzoku-Ou a dirty look when the other man leaned in and licked a dribble of steak juices from his chin. “Keep your tongue to yourself when we’re eating.”

Snickering, the thief king reached into the bag and revealed the remaining two containers of food. While not exactly thrilled to do any favors for his and his lover’s lookalikes, Touzoku-Ou resigned himself to feeding them and slid the meals into the protective circle, wincing when the magic grazed his finger tips.

“Eat up, or I’ll take that food back.”

They grabbed the food and dug right in, clearly as ravenous as their alternate selves. Naturally, they offered no thanks, but the local pair could at least enjoy the satisfaction of having control over them.

Bakura wiped more dribbles off his lips and sucked the juice off his thumb. “I told the dog just to give them scraps, but he said it would be simpler to buy them some food. I wouldn’t waste the money, but I guess Kaiba’s got enough to blow on a couple of thugs.”

Nonchalant and more interested in his own food, Touzoku-Ou shrugged. “Let him flaunt his wealth. Better not to argue with the man letting us stay here for free. We can bruise his ego later.” His eyes wandered passed Bakura to the corner of the room where Ryou laid. “How’d he look earlier, by the way?”

Setting his half-eaten steak down, Bakura followed the thief’s eyes to his former host. “Fortunately, there doesn’t seem to be another soul in his body, so we don’t have to worry about possibly having triple Ryous around. Unfortunately…”

“It’s gonna be hard to track him down without some connection to his current realm.”

“Probably. I stopped by the stupid pharaoh’s room on my way back. Told him the plan and to get his ass in here sooner rather than later. We’ll see if he listens.”

The pair shared a snort, and Touzoku-Ou said, “He’d better, or I’m taking Yugi hostage.”

“If you’re taking me hostage, just know I am very high maintenance. I require the highest quality of care, or I’ll make your life hell.”

As if on cue, Yugi ambled into the room, a less enthusiastic Atem behind him. The latter carried a box of candles while the former tossed a piece of chalk between his hands.

Touzoku-Ou rolled his eyes. “As expected of a mini version of the pharaoh.”

Yugi put his hands on his hips, smiling impishly. “You two always call me a ‘mini version,’ but Atem and I are pretty much the same height. Actually, last I checked, I’m two centimeters taller.”

“Aibou,” Atem groaned while setting the box down, “don’t waste your breath.”

Sarcasm pouring from his being, Bakura clapped and mocked, “Good job, Yugi. Do you want a cookie for that accomplishment?” He couldn’t help chuckling when said man stuck his tongue out. “You get ballsier with every centimeter, I guess.”

Atem, placing candles in a circle around him, motioned for Yugi to begin drawing a circle. As his lighter half set about the task, the pharaoh spoke to his former enemies. “You understand I can’t promise anything, correct?”

Swallowing his final bite of food, Touzoku-Ou dismissed Atem with a shrug. “Just swear by your father’s corpse that you’ll make a good argument, and I’ll be happy.”

“Really?” Atem glared at the tomb-robber. “By my father’s corpse? That’s the qualifier you choose?”

“Why not? If the situation were reversed, I’d be willing to swear by Kul Elna.” The deadpan tone of the thief noticeably shook Atem. “Swear by Yugi’s life, then, if you feel that’s more appropriate. But I want your word, and I want it sworn by something you hold dear.”

Grumbling under his breath, Atem raised his right hand. “You have my word. I, Pharaoh Atem, swear by my partner’s life to put forth my best effort at convincing the gods to assist in bringing Bakura Ryou’s soul back home.”

Bakura chuckled. “So Yugi is more important than Daddy, huh? Fair enough. Corpses are such a mood-killer.”

A snarl curled Atem’s lips, but Yugi touched his shoulder, shaking his head. “You know how they are, especially when they’re stressed. Good luck, Atem. I’ll be waiting here for you.” He snuck closer to place a kiss at his dark’s temple, and the man’s annoyance melted away.

“Hopefully they’ll be able to help. Thieves,” He nodded towards the silver-haired men, “try not to cause Yugi issues for the brief time I’m gone?”

“Oh, I’m going to cause him so much trouble,” Bakura sneered, but apprehension prevented his usual rancor from coming through. “Get out of here already. Ryou’s waiting.”

Heka flowed around the circle, spiraling in towards Atem, and an Eye of Anubis shimmered onto his forehead. His eyes, a swirl of purple and crimson, grew vacant as his soul ascended beyond the mortal plane into the realm of the gods. Stars of twinkling magic blinked their way upwards to form a guiding bridge there and back.

Touzoku-Ou released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Guess now all we can do is wait.”

 

***

 

“You’re lucky I’m a kind-hearted individual,” Mai warned, dabbing the last of black paint over Bakura’s lips. “You assholes keep me waiting for hours, and you didn’t even have the decency to do some prep yourselves?”

“No one does it as good as you, darling.” Touzoku-Ou, decked out in a scarlet suit jacket and pants over a dark gray turtleneck, blew her a kiss. “You know we’re suckers for your goddess touch.”

She laughed, and the action cleared what little exasperation clung to her face. “You’re also lucky I’m a sucker for that suit of yours, big boy, or I’d smack you for thinking you could flirt your way out of my wrath.

“He knows the power of his suit.” Spinning away from her with his completed face-up, Bakura hopped off the high stool and took a bow at the wolf whistle Touzoku-Ou awarded him. 

The heavy dark circles, a mix of black and wine liners, contrasted with his all-white sclera lenses, which reduced his irises and pupils to faint gray circles. Black squiggles with a gleam of red draped down his mouth and chin, and all his features were hollowed out by Mai’s expert application of contour and highlight. 

Ryou wished he had his phone. The face makeup alone put his tongue in knots; the black silk top and form-fitting spandex together with the grungy needlepoint nails sent blood right between his legs. He never thought about having Bakura or Touzoku-Ou use costume makeup in the bedroom, but he definitely would implement it. The mix of horror and his lovers’ bodies under a layer of sexy clothing… The possibilities were endless.

“What do you think, Ryou?” Mai asked, a knowing grin on her lips. “Should I take it as a compliment that you look ready to burst?”

Squeaking, Ryou yanked a pillow over himself, face burning as Bakura and Touzoku-Ou eyed him, equal parts surprised and wanting. He pretended not to see Touzoku-Ou shift his legs or the bulge Bakura’s spandex offered no privacy for. 

Mai giggled and patted her unoccupied seat. “C’mon, babe, you’re next. No hiding with the pillow. They’re your boyfriends, after all, so it’s nothing they haven’t seen before, I’m sure.”

“W-Why don’t you do Touzoku-Ou’s face next?” Ryou suggested, an offer definitely made out of generosity and not to give him time to settle.

“Oh, his makeup doesn’t need approval since he’s sticking to his usual. All he needed was a quick test to make sure his suit still fit properly.” She winked and beckoned him with a finger. “Like I said, no hiding. You’re up, so let’s hear what you want to do.”

His mouth opened, but no answer popped into his head. What did his alternate self want done? Ryou knew nothing about his style preference. If it were his choice, he’d want to match Bakura in levels of creepiness, but…

Touzoku-Ou suddenly wrapped his arm across Ryou’s shoulders. When he leaned in, he placed a kiss on Ryou’s neck, which nearly dissolved the other’s restraint, and whispered, “Go ahead. We’ll do the talking.”

Clearly recognizing the problem alongside his actual boyfriend, Bakura grasped Ryou’s wrist and tugged him to his feet. Their chests collided, and he softly teased, “Just sit and look pretty. We know what Ryou was planning.”

Their erections brushed from the proximity, and Ryou whimpered a pitiful acknowledgement before dragging his feet and planting himself in Mai’s stool, again trying to ignore his other self’s boyfriends ogling and chuckling.

She beamed down at him, ruffling his hair affectionately and turning them both towards the mirror. Her hands combed through his silky white strands while experimenting with over the shoulder, tucked behind the ear, in a ponytail, and other styles.

“How about a braid, Ryou? You haven’t done that in a minute.”

“Uh…” Ryou paused, long enough to allow Bakura or Touzoku-Ou to speak up if it mattered. They remained silent, so he nodded. “Sure?”

“Don’t be so nervous, hun. It’s me and your boyfriends, not Kaiba or some creepy volunteer.” She squeezed his shoulders. “Alrighty, so what are we thinking for the overall look this time around?”

Prepared for the inquiry, Bakura jumped in. “Ryou talked about keeping the contour and highlighting mostly natural.”

“He was toying with adding some glitter around his eyes and on his lips,” Touzoku-Ou added, pointing on his own face to the suggested placement. “He wanted to try a cool-tone lip color, too. Like pastel blue or purple?”

Mai practically sparkled with excitement. “Fun! Good to see you getting out of your comfort zone a bit. Okay, picture with me, Ryou.” She described painting his lips a muted lilac and swirling the color over his cheekbones and back into his eye sockets. She dabbed her pinky gently around his high points, suggesting a blue and silver glitter combo, and motioned to a stunning set of fake white lashes on her vanity to emphasize his pre-existing ones.

He kept offering subtle nods, basically providing unlimited creative freedom, while letting his mind drift. ‘I wonder if my Mai would teach me some makeup tips. Might be fun to collaborate, too. I should suggest sitting down with her and Malik. Between the three of us, we could throw together some wicked looks.’

Her voice disappeared, replaced by her agile hands and brushes dusting over his skin, so he closed his eyes and held still, listening to her hums and occasional quips with Bakura and Touzoku-Ou. The banter soothed him, almost lulling him to sleep were it not for the uncomfortable stool holding him.

An echo, muffled to the point of being nearly indiscernible, tickled his brain while he sat there, disrupting his peace. His brow twitched as Bakura and Touzoku-Ou’s voices overlapped with… Bakura and Touzoku-Ou’s voices? The words and tones were different, but they were certainly the same voice. His ears endeavored to hear beyond the chatter beside him, and he squinted his eyes when pain bloomed in his temples.

“H-Hey, guys?” The three friends quieted themselves, their attention on him. “Sorry if this comes across as rude, but I have a headache. Could you talk a bit quieter?”

Mai’s brush hovered over his eyelid, the bristles itching his eyelashes. “Aw, hun, you should have said something. You poor thing. I lent my medicine to Jonouchi, but I can go get it if you want?”

Ryou contemplated the offer. “That would be great, honestly.”

Setting her brushes down, she offered him a smile. “Of course. Be back in a flash.”

She ducked out of the trailer, leaving Ryou with Bakura and Touzoku-Ou. He could see them tilt their heads in the mirror, and Bakura’s worried face scrunching through his makeup.

“Are you alright? Our Ryou gets bad headaches from time to time. You might be experiencing one of those.”

“Actually,” Ryou used his toes to pivot the stool, “I don’t think it’s related to your Ryou at all. Give me a second, I’m trying to…” His words disappeared as the voices, no longer overlapped, returned. Though still quiet, he could finally make out some of the words being spoken. Pressing his fingertips into his temples, he strained to hear, face wrinkled with effort.

“Three hours! It took three hours for them to basically tell us to go fuck ourselves?!”

“I told you I couldn’t guarantee anything. I tried, Touzoku-Ou, I really did.”

“The worst part is I believe you, Pharaoh! What I don’t believe is the gods are as ‘unable to assist’ as they say! What do they have against me and my families?! Long before I committed crimes against them, they damned my village, and now they’re damning Ryou, who has done nothing but dare to associate with me?!”

“Calm down, Touzoku-Ou. We’ll save Yadonushi without the gods’ help.”

“Of course we will, that’s not the issue! I truly want to know why they hate us so much! They hated me enough to let my village be massacred, they hated you enough to leave you in Zorc’s clutches—”

“Don’t say the name, dammit!”

“—and apparently they hate Rohi enough to strand him in other realms where who knows what is happening to him! You know if it was the pharaoh or his light, they would bend over backwards to help! I’m fucking sick of them treating my loved ones like outcasts!”

“Touzoku-Ou, please. I know this must be infuriating, but I do believe they are unable to help this time. I really, really don’t think they are trying to hurt you or your family this time around.”

“You’re already their favorite, Pharaoh. You don’t need to suck their cocks more.”

“Omri, don’t make me openly take the pharaoh’s side. Please. Just… Come here. Sit down. Take some breaths.”

“Fuck this, Bakura. Fuck the gods. Fuck everything.”

“Shh, c’mon, don’t cry in front of Mr. King. It’ll only make you feel worse… Let’s go back to our room for a bit.”

“I want to stay with Ryou.”

“I know, but you need to step out for a minute.”

“Hey!”

Ryou blinked at the shout, losing his focus on the faint words. He was distantly aware of droplets streaking down his face. The other Bakura and Touzoku-Ou stood in front of him, each looking into his eyes, each with concern written across his face.

Touzoku-Ou asked, “What’s going on? You started crying all of the sudden…”

“Touzoku-Ou…” The dark-skinned man leaned in, expectant. “No, sorry… Not you… He’s hurting. Him and Bakura both…” Ryou smiled sadly at them. “Thank you for being so kind and understanding, but I can’t wait here any longer. It’s a shame, I would have liked to have seen the show.”

The pair reached for him, Bakura squeezing Ryou’s hip and Touzoku-Ou grasping his hand. Gently, Bakura asked, “You think you can do it on your own? I thought you needed help from your world the first time.”

“With or without outside help,” Ryou assured him, “I need to get back to them. Being away is painful, and knowing they’re suffering breaks my heart. Don’t worry; once I vacate this body, your Ryou should come back.”

Both of them frowned, and Bakura, pulling back his hand from Ryou’s hip, mumbled, “Should? No offense, kiddo, but I’d prefer you swear it.”

“I can’t promise everything will go smoothly, but I promise to check back as soon as I can. If for whatever reason he’s not back, I’ll find a way to help you.”

They exchanged a glance, not pleased by the mysterious circumstances but nodding nonetheless. Touzoku-Ou pressed his lips to the back of Ryou’s stolen hand. His words, spoken in a gravelly purr, seemed to carry heated desire for him, not their actual boyfriend.

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re wearing our love’s face, but I can’t help but trust you. Make sure you come back for a first row seat and a private show sometime.”

Somewhat flushed by the sultry whisper and unexpected affection, Ryou managed a crooked smile, tearing his eyes away from them and towards the mirror. He approached cautiously, uncertain if the same trick would work again, and pushed his palms onto the glass. He dug, deeper and deeper, into his soul. The magic bubbled to the surface faster than before, lighting the mirror first beneath his flesh, then all at once. Gasps at his back encouraged him, drove him to push harder.

The surface morphed, and Ryou barely kept an elated cry in his throat when, through the haze of magic and what seemed to be a doorway, he saw his boyfriends. They laid on a bed, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes. The men behind him saw them, too, he guessed since Bakura muttered, “That’s so freakin’ weird…”

“Please let this work,” Ryou pleaded to any force who would listen. He inhaled, deep, steady, and exclaimed as loud as he could, “‘Kura! Roh albi!”

Their reaction started gradually, like they were dazed and distrustful of their own ears. Bakura propped up on his elbows. Ryou watched his russet eyes trail over the surface of the room, diving into the shadows tucked into each corner, and at long last finding him through the doorway.

“Yanushi?” He heaved his slender body over Touzoku-Ou’s, tumbling in a very non-thief-king manner off the bed. “Ryou, is that you? Touzoku-Ou, tell me I’m not seeing shit.”

“Fucking hell!” Touzoku-Ou sprang after him. “No, you aren’t seeing shit, unless I am, too.”

They rushed the mirror, barely allowing each other through the doorway in the hurry, and Bakura reached over what Ryou assumed to be a bathroom counter. He lined his palm to Ryou’s, and the surge of energy shocked Ryou, almost making him pull back with a yelp.

Touzoku-Ou mimicked the action, and again, Ryou struggled to keep from pulling away. Their magics mixed through the glass portal, light and dark, stabbing into his palms. It wasn’t painful, he supposed, so much as powerful. Like several static shocks on loop.

“I can hardly see you, Yadonushi,” Bakura groaned, his eyes narrowing. “How did you even manage this?”

“By luck or convenient fluke, the same way everything seems to happen,” Ryou laughed, and the tears down his face no longer carried sadness. “Can you help pull me through? I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up — it’s draining me by the second.”

Frustrated, Touzoku-Ou growled, the sound rumbling from deep in his throat. “We’re going to try , Rohi, but it didn’t work with Kek and Atem helping. Fuck, I want it to work, but…”

“It almost did, though!” Ryou laid his forehead on the glass, wishing it was Touzoku-Ou’s shoulder. “I was so close. I swore I could have touched you.” 

He winced, knees wobbling, elbows shaking. His palms began to burn, and he continued urgently, “We don’t have a lot of time! This body can’t handle my heka, and I can feel myself losing strength. Help pull me through, please!”

Through the mirror, he saw their magic swell in response to his cries. Touzoku-Ou appeared to be burning in scarlet flames, while Bakura’s magic swirled from ground to ceiling like a void. He pushed himself harder than he ever had in his own body, hoping he wouldn’t leave lasting damage on his unwitting landlord, and the pure frenzy coursing through his veins told him his limit was fast approaching.

The Bakura and Touzoku-Ou behind him gasped again, stepping back from the white and gold light emanating from their lover’s body. They watched the light build and build until they couldn’t bear looking at it anymore. A sound like distant thunder boomed through the trailer, and when everything became silent, the light vanished.

The two men looked up, cautiously opening their aching eyes. Their boyfriend’s body, slumped over Mai’s vanity, began to fall, knees too exhausted to hold his weight any longer. Bakura caught Ryou easily, stepping back to brace himself as he held him. Over his shoulder, Touzoku-Ou worriedly touched the boy’s cheek.

“Ryou? Are you okay, little gem?”

To their relief, two brown eyes peeked up through mostly lidded sockets. He spoke, soft and timid. “Baku? Tou?”

They planted sweet kisses down his face, happy to hear him giggle despite his obvious exhaustion. His eyes opened a bit more, still heavy, and he asked, “What happened? I… I can’t remember anything since I went to lay down for my nap.”

“A lot happened,” Touzoku-Ou sighed and brushed the other’s bangs from his face. “And quite honestly, I’m not sure what exactly it all was.”

Bakura grunted in agreement, his gaze pulled to the mirror. “Hopefully everything worked out for him. At least you’re okay.”

“Huh? I’m confused, guys.”

They took turns kissing his forehead, and Bakura continued, “Go to sleep, beautiful. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

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

AO3 Link: In Another Life - Chapter 12 - LiteraryAngel - Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[annwrites]

⸻ i’m fuckin’ begging you. ⸻

· pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: the morning after you & billy have your first intimate moment together, it's like he's reverted back to who he was in hawkins. you go to a drive-in theater that night in tx with him & have a mental breakdown in a restroom over his treatment of you. he then shows you his love in shades of black & blue, & when you go to finally leave for good, he tells you just who it is, exactly, that you belong to. · tw: drugs, assault · word count: 7,565

The smell of salt air wafts into the Camaro's cabin, and the sound of crashing waves and the call of seagulls envelope the two of you. You'd finally made it. Billy was home and you'd stayed with him every mile of the way. You were his. Completely.

He sits in the front seat of his Camaro, you atop him in his lap, legs spread, him buried inside of your warm wetness. He grips your bare hips under your sundress, gently rocking your hips against him.

He reaches up, cupping your cheek, your soft hair tumbling over your slender shoulders as you smile warmly down at him, eyes full of adoration, kindness, care. When had someone last looked at him in such a way? No judgement, no hatred, no harsh words or actions against him.

"Billy." You call softly to him.

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. "Say it, baby, please. I need to hear it."

You reach up, resting your left hand atop his shoulder, fingers burying themselves in his hair, a silver ring glinting against the bright California sun high in the sky, a breeze washing over both of you through the open windows.

"Billy," you say again, sweetly.

His other hand that's not cupping your face gently squeezes your hip. "Please, angel, no one has said it to me since my mom left. Please... I feel it, too."

"Billy."

As you continue rocking your hips against his, his brows furrow. Something isn't right. Doesn't feel right.

"Billy."

His eyes slowly open to the sight of sunlight which is streaming in from a window to his right, and you hovering overtop of him with furrowed brows.

"Hey, you need to get up. We have to be checked out soon."

He sits up suddenly and he pushes you away, nearly causing you to fall off of the bed.

"Get the fuck off of me," he says before standing.

You roll your eyes. Clearly not a morning person you now know.

"Good morning to you, too," you say sarcastically.

He turns back to you. "What time is it?"

"Twenty ‘til."

"Why the fuck did you let me sleep so long?"

You withdraw a little at his harsh, aggressive tone. "You were tired and I just wanted to let you rest."

He walks over to his bag.

"Don't worry, I got all our stuff together."

He turns back to you with a sneer. "You went through my shit?"

Your hands begin to shake.

Where is the Billy from last night? You were so sure things would be far different today. Going forward in general. Easier, sweeter, kinder.

You stand. "No, I just put your things away. I didn't go through it. I was trying to be nice."

He unzips it, pulls out an outfit, then dresses himself. "Get your shit and get down to the car."

You walk over to your bags, and shrug them on.

You don't speak to him again as you open the door.

Before you can step over the threshold, he calls to you, however.

You look back to him, hopeful for an apology.

Instead, he says, "Don't ever touch my things again. Got it?"

You nod, then exit the room.

You sit silently in the passenger seat as Billy crosses the Texas border—his tire had been ready to go before the two of you even pulled up to the auto shop. And once the car was ready, he'd immediately hit the road, not even bothering to stop somewhere for breakfast.

You glance to him out of the corner of your eye and wonder if maybe his attitude is from a hangover instead. He hadn't seemed drunk last night. And while you have a slight headache, you feel fine yourself. If you aren’t hungover, then surely he isn’t either. Is he?

"Are you okay?" You ask quietly.

He glances to you, then looks back to the road. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're...you seem upset."

He rolls his eyes. "Just tired of being stuck in this fuckin' car all the time and having to do all the driving and every ounce of the work around here."

You wince.

"I would if I knew how..." You say softly.

"Yeah, well, you don't. And I'm not about to start teaching you so you can burn up the fucking clutch, causing just one more problem to be added onto my plate."

You look out the windshield while unshed tears cause your eyes to burn. "Do...do you regret last night?"

He grows quiet for a moment, and his jaw flexes. Hard.

"Like I told you before, shit like that doesn't mean anything to me. We both got off. Doesn't need to be more than that."

Your lip quivers and you look out the passenger side window at passing cars, your stomach now tying itself in knots.

How could you have ever trusted him in allowing him to touch you like that? He'd told you what sex—any kind—means to him. He’s consistent in that at least.

He then reaches over, retrieves a cassette from the glovebox, then pops it in the radio. Metallica's For Whom the Bell Tolls begins blaring through the speakers.

When Billy stops to get gas, you watch from the rearview mirror as he eyes up other girls that’re walking around in Daisy Dukes, mini skirts, and the like. He even whistles his approval at a couple.

A tear then slips down your cheek, and you wipe it away.

Once Billy has finished filling the tank, he goes inside, and you hang your head, and begin to cry.

How could you have ever done that? He'd told you his intentions in getting you drunk—he'd done it to take advantage. 

And then he did.

You hadn't felt that way while it’d been happening, though.

What you had felt had been…something more.

You can’t acknowledge that now, though. Not now. Not ever.

You’ve finally given him exactly what he’s wanted since day one: another notch in his belt—just for you. Well, perhaps not exactly, but something.

You feel dirty.

Used.

Cheap. 

Pathetic.

Had the things he’d told you while drinking even been true? About his mom? About how he feels about you?

You begin to doubt every single thing he’s said and done since you first met. Or, at the very least, since you got into his car that night.

When you glance in the side mirror, you see him heading back, and you quickly gather yourself as best you can manage, choosing not to look his way as he enters the car.

He tosses a plastic bag full of junk food between the two of you, but you somehow know you’re not to touch it. 

“I’m hungry, too,” you say softly.

He takes a bite of a Snickers before glancing to you. “Your legs aren’t broken, and you have cash. Go get somethin’.”

You exit the car, and carefully close the door behind you.

“Hey!”

You turn back to him, and lean down to the open passenger-side window. 

He leans across the way toward you. “From now on, you start paying for all your own shit. I’m done being your meal ticket. Got it?”

You nod, and remain silent.

You stand, turn away, then hear him yell “hurry up” as you head inside.

Feeling…not like yourself, you stare blankly at the selection of chips in front of you.

Your stomach growls, but you feel like whatever you eat will just come right back up. 

You then walk up front to the attendant behind the counter. “Excuse me?”

The older man turns to you, and pauses from putting away cigarette cartons. 

“Do you have a public restroom I could use?” 

He nods toward the back left. 

“Thank you,” you say, walking away.

Once inside, you lock the door behind you and press your forehead to it. Your sweaty palm slips off of the metal handle as you begin to cry. Hard.

Your head spins with so many thoughts you’re unable to grab a single one to focus on before the next one hits you. 

You wonder if, perhaps, you should’ve stayed in Hawkins—who cares what happens to you in the long run, anyway?

You think of your mother then, and wonder if she ever cared for you, if she ever thinks of you as often as you do her.

You think of Steve and how, while he’d only seen you as a friend and you felt the same toward him, it’s someone like him that you need—someone kind, considerate, and non-violent.

You think of Billy and how you had been right to see him as a monster. Had been right to stay away from him in the first place. 

God, what had you done to yourself by agreeing to get in his car that night? How much better off would you be right now if you’d kept walking instead? You’d had another opportunity on the interstate, but had caved yet again, returning to him. 

You’re not sure you can hold out until California. Parting ways before then…it may be for the best sooner rather than later. For your own safety, if nothing else.

Surviving your father had taken everything in you. But now you have nothing—truly. A few hundred waning dollars, a watch to pawn, and some clothes. That’s it.

You suddenly feel terrified for your future. 

You take a moment to gather yourself—realizing you’re now hyper-ventilating—and you turn the sink on and splash handful after handful of cold water onto your flushed face, washing your tears away.

When you return to the car, Billy immediately makes a snide comment. “Took long enough. I thought you were getting somethin’ to eat?”

You stare out the window at a happy couple across the way, knowing you’ll never have that. You’re too broken for it. 

“They didn’t have anything I wanted.”

“Whatever,” he says, turning the car over. 

As he begins to drive away, you finally tear your eyes away from the man and woman and suddenly realize: there’s not a single person in all the world who loves or cares about you.

You want to throw yourself from the moving car at the thought.

A couple hours later and you begin to feel sick from the heat, but remain quiet.

You should’ve at least gotten a bottle of water or two back at the station, but you’d had other things on your mind. 

Billy glances to you and rolls his eyes at your sullen state. “You’re really starting to harsh my fuckin’ buzz. The hell is the matter with you today? I know it’s not your monthly or I would’ve found out as much last night with my hand between your legs.”

You feel sick at the memory. “I just don’t feel well.”

“Maybe it’s because you didn’t bother to grab anything while I waited for your ass back at the Exxon.”

You remain quiet, while tears brim in and burn your eyes. 

He tosses a bag of Doritos at you. “Here, eat those. Even if they are fuckin’ mine.”

He only notices how badly your hands are shaking when you try opening the bag. 

He frowns, then turns back to the road as you begin to eat one.

"Thanks," you say softly.

An hour later Billy finally stops, and you’re now seated so far away from him, you’re damn-near climbing out the window. 

He slams his door behind him, leaving you sitting there as he walks up to a taco stand to order lunch for himself.

You nearly stumble out of the car, now dizzy from your low blood-sugar, but trail along behind him, and order a couple tacos for yourself. 

You go to follow him to a table, until he walks over to a blonde girl who’s wearing a pair of colorful shorts and a tye-dye t-shirt, and he asks if the seat across from her is free.

You sit some ways away then, and take occasional bites of your food while slowly sipping at your water as you do your utmost to keep everything down. You grip the edge of the table and begin to take deep breaths.

You’re fine. You’ll be fine.

You have no other choice now but to be. 

Unless…what if you buy a bus ticket?

If you went back…what would happen to you? Would…would your dad still follow through on his threat? 

Tears sting your eyes when you wonder what your gravestone would say. Certainly not ‘beloved daughter’.

You push your food away and lie your head down while fighting against your gag reflex.

Meanwhile, Billy sits across the way, flirting with the girl in front of him. 

“So, do you live around here?” She asks, taking a bite of her food. 

“Nah, doll, I’m just passin’ through,” he replies.

He glances to you and his brows furrow when he sees you hunched over—your face is buried in your arms—while you continuously take shallow breaths.

She turns, follows his line-of-sight, then looks back to him. “Are you with her?”

“Not like that. I’ll be rid of her ass once we hit California.” 

He ignores his stomach twisting painfully when he says it.

“Oh, wow. Long ways to go, huh?”

He shrugs, then leans in toward her. “No reason we can’t get to know one another now.”

She laughs, then shakes her head while she stands. “Sorry, but I’m not like that. Good luck getting to Cali, though!”

He sighs, then watches her walk away—he keeps his eyes trained on her back-end, even if it doesn’t serve to stir any excitement within him.

Finally, he comes over to you, and seats himself heavily on the other side of the metal picnic table you’re currently hunched over.

“What? Are you sick?”

You don’t respond. 

He reaches for your food then. “If you’re not going to eat it, then I am. No point in letting it go to waste.”

That still earns him no response from you, and he wonders if you’ve fallen asleep, until you finally raise your head, and he feels the blood drain from his face at the look of yours—flushed, sweaty, and your eyes are glassy. 

You stand.

“I’m going to sit in the car,” you mutter.

When you go to step away, however, you sway on your feet, and then he curses.

“Sit the fuck down and eat your food. Now. I don’t need you getting sick all over my car. Because if you do, I’m not paying for the fuckin’ detailing.”

You do as he says.

You pull your taco toward you, even if it doesn’t even seem all that appetizing to you.

“You could always leave me here,” you state.

There’s no sarcasm in your voice. No playful tone. Nothing. 

He leans back a bit. “Don’t tempt me.”

You raise your bottle to your lips with shaking hands, and water spills on your shirt. 

His face falls while he watches you struggle. Either you’re sick from the heat…or you’re back to the way you’d been the other night: filled with fear…of him.

He looks down to his food, his own appetite now suddenly gone.

He eats anyway.

Once the two of you are back on the road, now with full stomachs, even if neither of you had had an appetite, he turns the radio back on, but leaves it at a comfortable level.

Meanwhile, you think of the watch you’d taken.

If the two of you stop tonight, once you get yourself a room, you’ll go in search of a pawn shop.

You’ll take whatever they offer you. It  isn’t like you’re in a place to barter. You then also consider finding out about bus fare. Perhaps to California. Perhaps not.

It won’t be cheap, but, even if it takes every cent, you’ll be better off. 

Billy changes lanes, passes the car beside you, and then he sighs dramatically.

“I told you before what sex—all that shit—means to me: nothing. So, what, you’re going to pout now because I don’t want to settle down after one taste? Like it was something to write home about to begin with?”

You put your hand over your mouth. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Fuck,” he curses before quickly merging back over.

People lay on their horns, but he ignores them before skidding to a stop on the shoulder.

You wrench your door open, then heave over the side of the car.

He then reaches a new level of guilt he never thought possible.

He reaches toward you, but leaves his hand hovering over your back before quickly rethinking the decision to touch you before he settles it back on the wheel.

Once you’ve emptied your stomach, you reach into the glovebox and retrieve a napkin to clean yourself up with.

You close your door, then settle back against the seat. Your skin is now slick with sweat, and your head is pounding, while a vile taste now coats your mouth. 

You then look to him out of the corner of your eye, ignoring how your body is now shaking.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

“It’s fine,” is all the reply he gives before merging back into traffic.

It’s nearly evening time when Billy pulls into a motel.

You exit the vehicle before he’s even shut the engine off, and head inside to the front desk to get yourself a room.

When he follows after you a moment later, he catches the tail-end of your conversation, watching as you go to hand the woman behind the front desk some cash. 

“Alright, so, that’s one room, with a full-size bed for fifteen.”

He grows angry at the thought of you sleeping away from him, even if he’d told you just a few hours earlier to start paying your own way. Being upset with you for doing as he asked... What the fuck is wrong with him?

He steps up beside you and snatches the money out of your hand before stuffing it into your back pocket. 

“I want a queen. One room,” he states, glancing to the woman, then glaring at you.

You shrink away from him, and your hopes of getting away from him for just one night are now ruined.

Once inside the room, you nearly collapse on top of your bags after dropping them on the floor. You then wander over to the bathroom and softly shut the door before sitting to relieve yourself. 

You cringe when you look at yourself in the mirror after.

Your skin is pallid, stray hairs cling to your face, and there are dark circles beneath your bloodshot eyes. But you simply don’t have it in you to care enough to bother fixing yourself up, so you exit the bathroom as-is.

Billy watches as you wander over to one of your bags and reach inside. You then pull something out and stuff it into your pocket.

You then go to leave, until he speaks. 

“The fuck are you doing?”

You simply shut the door behind you and he curses, throwing his jacket down as he follows you out. “Hey, get the fuck back here!”

You don’t listen.

He then grabs you roughly by the upper-arm, and he squeezes harshly as he pulls you back to him.

“I asked you a goddamn question.”

You fight back against the fear which fills you at his presence now.

You know how to play this game. You’ve been doing it your whole life.

When a man gets angry: be silent and demure. Respond only minimally. Enough to give them what they want. They won’t hurt you then. Probably.

You reach into your right pocket with a shaking hand, then extend it toward him with an open palm.

“I need to pawn this. My money won’t last long between here and California. Or wherever it is that I end up now.”

His grip loosens, and he takes the watch from you as he looks over what used to be your dad’s Rolex.

He then looks at you, and he watches with a pained expression as you reach up and gingerly rub the portion of your arm that he’d just had squeezed within his grip.

He hands the watch back to you. “Keep it.”

You look up to him. “I can’t. When my money—”

“I paid for the room, didn’t I?”

Your eyes flit between his. “I don’t think I want to go to California anymore.”

His stomach drops. “What?”

You look down and watch as the polished silver glints against the sun, making the piece of jewelry still look like new.

“I said West. And in another state or two I’ll be there. I think that’s where I get off.”

His heart begins to pound.

You want to leave.

You want off this emotional fucking rollercoaster he’s subjected you to every goddamn day, because just as soon as you begin to feel comfortable, he gives you another blow to contend with, leaving you on uncertain ground.

He doesn’t react—doesn’t beg you to stay. He won’t. If you want to leave him, too, then so be it. He never needed you in the first place. 

He ignores the way his heart squeezes painfully at the thought of an empty passenger seat. An empty bed…

It’s just the heat that’s making his eyes sting.

“Good riddance, then.”

Your chin wobbles as you turn around to head back up to the room. Your head hangs between your shoulders as you begin to ascend the metal stairs—your form utterly fucking defeated.

Billy eventually, after showering—while you’d sat on the bed staring at nothing—goes down to the lobby to ask about local attractions.

He needs to get out of the room. He can’t take seeing you like that. Can’t bear what he’s doing to you. 

But he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s not…sappy and romantic and ‘boyfriend’ material. Whatever it is that you’re after—he ain’t it.

He can’t be.

When he returns, you’re still sitting there, holding your hurting stomach in your hand.

He places his hands on his hips, already regretting inviting you.

“You want to go see a movie? They’re having a showing of The Terminator near here in less than an hour.”

You look up to him with empty eyes.

You’ve never looked at him like that before. Haven’t looked like that since the night he found you beaten and bloodied on the side of the road.

Something inside him breaks at the realization.

You shrug.

He opens the door. “C’mon then.”

Once he’s parked—you’d desperately tried to give him money for your ticket, terrified he’d use paying for yours against you at some point, but he’d refused to take the change from you—he leans back against the seat, and sets his radio to the correct station.

He rolls his head to the side, and looks at you, and his heart drops when he sees you turned toward your door, away from him.

He wants to roll it all back—this entire fucking day. How, in such a short span of time, did he manage to do so much destructive damage to not just you, but your relationship as a whole? He’d had an opportunity before him—you—for a better life. A fresh start. Something good, and pure and loving. And he’d not stopped until your heart was crushed to a pulp in his fist.

But the way you looked at him last night in bed, the way you’d touched him, and kissed him, and held him…something had shifted between the two of you. Something big. Something he can’t even fathom. He knows what he feels. But what if you don’t? Or, what if you do, but he turns out just like his dad?

He then thinks he’s spent all day doing it—being that—his spitting fucking image. You don’t need to hit someone to hurt them. To abuse them.

What the fuck has he done?

He glances to the cars around you, then spots a couple up ahead in the back seat of a Barracuda on top of one another.

He smirks. "At least someone's getting laid. Lucky bastard."

You open your door then, and nearly fall out of the car. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Restroom,” you reply, barely above a whisper.

Once you’ve shut yourself in a stall, you sit on the toilet lid and lose it.

You begin to bawl so hard you can’t breathe.

You haven’t cried like this since your mom left you behind. You double over, and wrap your arms around yourself. You’re shaking, while tears and snot stream down your face. You cry so hard…you make yourself sick.

You lean over the toilet, and vomit up stomach acid, which only serves to make you cry harder. 

You make a decision right then and there: once Billy is asleep, you’re leaving for good.

He always sleeps through the night. It’ll give you plenty of time to get away. You’re unsure how late bus stations are open, but you’ll do whatever you must to leave him in the past where he belongs. 

When you exit the restroom, the cool night air washes over you, and cools you. You then glance up to the wide sky above you, which is now filled with stars. And you feel so fucking lonely and empty at the sight. A sight which used to comfort you. Now...

You then slowly step over to the concessions. 

“Can I have a small vanilla shake, please?”

Once you’ve paid and you’re handed your drink, a voice calls out to you before you can walk around some—you refuse to go back to his car until you’ve at least put something small back on your stomach.

“You alright? Looks like you’ve been crying.”

You look to your right and see a man, maybe twenty or twenty-one, leaning up against the side of the concession stand. He has on a pair of black cargo shorts, a black t-shirt with a yellow smiley face on the front, and bleach-blond hair. 

Your wrap your clammy hands around the cool cup in your grip.

“I’m fine,” you say quietly.

He crooks his head to the side. “You sure? Might not be able to help, but I’m a good listener.”

You shift from one foot to the other, consider, and then decide to come over to him. You want nothing more to do with Billy. He’s shown who he truly is all day long. Had months ago. What’s the saying? When someone shows you who they are the first time, believe them. You should’ve taken such advice.

It would’ve saved you a lot of heartache.

You look up at him, and lean your shoulder against the building while you take a sip of your cold drink.

He extends a hand toward you. “Chris.”

You smile slightly, and hold your own out. “Y/N.”

He takes your wet hand in his and presses a soft kiss to the top of it. 

You laugh lightly at the unexpected gesture.

“Don’t tell me your asshole boyfriend is responsible for your tears? A girl like you is way too pretty to be crying over some worthless chump.”

He folds his arms across his chest.

“No. It’s…it’s complicated.”

To you maybe, but clearly not to him.

He leans his head against the building. “It serious?”

You take another drink. “No. We want different things.”

“Like?”

On the one hand, talking to a strange man again is probably a bad idea. On the other, he’s ogled and spoken to how many girls today? You can do as you please. He has no say in your decisions. Not anymore. He never should’ve in the first place.

You shrug. “I just want someone who will be nice to me.”

“What, that’s supposed to be a tall order? Doesn’t seem all that hard to do to me,” he says, running the back of one of his fingers down your arm. 

You step the least bit closer at the tender gesture. It feels good to be touched. To have someone listen.

He continues. “What’s he want?”

You sip your shake again.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you say quietly. 

He shifts his stance. “Do you want to be with someone like that? A guy who leaves you guessing, crying, all alone? Sounds like a selfish prick to me.”

No, you don’t want that.

You look down. You normally don’t open up like this to strangers—too worried what they might think—but it’s not as if this day can get any worse.

“What if I can’t do any better?”

He smirks. “Talking to me, ain’t ya?”

You both laugh at that.

He then glances around. “I don’t normally do this, but I have something that might make you feel better.”

Your brows furrow while he reaches into his pocket, and then he pulls out a small red candy.

His eyes flit to yours. “You ever dropped acid before?”

Your stomach drops. “N-no.”

“You want to?”

You shake your head. “No, thank you.”

He sighs. “C’mon, it’s not that bad. I mean, it’ll make you forget all about what’s-his-face. We could get out of here, have some fun as a bit of payback. What’d’ya say?”

He grabs you by the wrist then.

Billy groans in irritation.

You’ve been gone nearly twenty-fucking-minutes at this point, and have already missed the whole beginning of the movie.

He glances around—looking for you—but you’re nowhere to be found. He lets you out of his sight for a fucking second and this is what he gets for it…

He exits his car and goes in search of the restrooms, really ready to give you what-for, even if you missing the movie is his fault. He knows you just want to get away from him. And he can’t exactly get angry at you for 'wasting' his money on your ticket, either, since you’d all but begged him to let you pay for yourself. 

And then he spots you standing near the concessions, some bleach-blond asshole squeezing your face in one hand, while his other holds something near your mouth while you shake your head and try to pull away.

He sees fucking red.

As he nears the two of you, he hears him say, “C’mon, Y/N, we’re just having some fun. So open.”

You drop your milkshake on the ground, and vanilla goes everywhere.

The prick looks at Billy, and his eyes widen when he sees the aggressive look which has overtaken his features. 

Billy grabs him by the right arm, and pulls him away from you before sucker-punching the side of his face.

He falls to the ground and Billy gets on top of him and just pounds away, landing blow after blow. He eventually hears something break—likely his nose—but he doesn’t stop.

“Don’t ever fucking touch her again! You hear me, you fuckin’ piece of shit?”

He grips his face then—Billy’s mere inches from it as he screams. “You fucking hear me?!”

His face is so swollen and bloodied, he can barely even make Billy out so as to respond, so Billy punches him again. 

You stand to the side, horrified, with your hands covering your mouth as you watch Billy wail on Chris and beat his face into a bloody pulp.

 A crowd begins to form, so you rush forward, and grab Billy’s arm that has a fist raised in the air. “Billy, stop, you’re going to kill him!”

Then you hear someone yell in the distance. “I’m calling the police!”

You tug harder, and force him to stand, and he kicks Chris in the stomach as hard as he can, and the young man doubles over, then curls into the fetal position as Billy spits on him.

“Fuckin’ loser.”

He quickly grabs your hand, and leads you back to the car. “C’mon.”

He opens your door, buckles you in, then closes it. 

When you glance up, you see a man get out of a Plymouth while Billy is walking around the front of the Camaro.

Billy then points at him. “Get back in your fuckin’ car!”

He gets in the driver’s side, and he kicks up grass and dirt and rocks as he quickly backs out of the lot before speeding away.

You sit beside him, shaking violently, while tears sting your eyes.

You gasp when he nearly hits someone as he swerves into another lane after taking the on-ramp to get on the interstate. Perhaps five minutes later does he get back off again onto a lower, more deserted back road.

He flies across the asphalt, and your heart pounds as you watch the speedometer climb to over eighty. 

“Billy, slow down. Billy!” 

Ninety. 

“Billy, please, you’re scaring me!”

It’s once he’s hit over one-hundred-and-ten that he stomps on the brakes.

Your seatbelt nearly chokes you as the car lurches forward.

And then you slam back against your seat, and you stare at him with wide eyes, while tears stream down your cheeks, and your chest heaves for breath. 

He’s deathly silent beside you. He breathes steadily as he stares at the dark road ahead.

His eyes are hard, his brows are furrowed, and his knuckles are bloodied.

You shake your head, then unbuckle yourself with trembling hands. “I-I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

You open your door, and then he reaches across the cabin and slams it back closed again.

When you look at him, he grabs your face gently, but firmly—his eyes wild. “You’re fucking mine. You understand me? You’re mine.”

Before you can even reply, he crushes his lips to yours so hard your teeth knock together.

He plunges his tongue inside your mouth while his right hand comes to grip the hair at the nape of your neck. His other squeezes your hip so hard that it hurts.

The only thing you can hear is your pounding heart in your ears and his lips smacking against your own.

He pulls back. “Next time I see another guy touching you, I won’t stop until I have fucking killed him.”

He brings your lips back to his.

You remain silent on the way back to the motel. Silent tears slip down your cheeks, while you fear what you’ve gotten yourself into.

You look at him out of the corner of your eye and wonder how he can now seem so calm.

He’d nearly beaten a man to death not even half-an-hour ago. Had also acted more possessive toward you than you’ve ever seen him before. What is that supposed to mean, anyway—'you’re mine'?

You’re almost too afraid to ask, unsure that you want his definition. 

Once he’s parked, you both exit the car and head inside, and once the door is closed, you slump down into a chair.

He paces back and forth—hands on his hips—and he glances up to you every few moments. 

Your head is in your hands, and your elbows are positioned atop your knees.

“Are you okay?” He asks gently, now a bit calmer.

You look up to him, and your lower lip trembles.

“No, I’m not okay! None of this is okay! What is wrong with you?” You choke out tearily.

He stops pacing. “I had to get the fuckin’ creep off of you-”

“So you almost kill him?”

He waves his hand. “He’ll be fine. Who even gives a shit?”

You shake your head in disbelief.

“What the fuck were you doing talking to him, anyway? You told me you were going to take a piss, not hook up with some random—”

You stand then, your temper finally having reached its limit.

“Are you fucking kidding me? This again? You have treated me like garbage all day long! Looking at, and flirting with girls, and making me feel so worthless!”

You begin to sob. “Do you have any idea the things I’ve been thinking? I…I never should’ve trusted you in the first place! I don’t know what I thought about you. Maybe that you could be different. Or that I could fix you or… God, I’m so fucking stupid. Just like my mother. But y’know what? I get it now. I get why she did it. She had no other choice. So, I might as well follow in her footsteps with that, too.”

You walk over to your bags, and pull your backpack onto your shoulders.

He panics. “W-what’re you doing?”

“I told you I’m done and I meant it. I’m leaving.”

You grab your other bag and slide it onto your shoulder. “I won’t waste years of my life on someone like she did. I have to get out before it’s too late.”

You turn your back to him and take a step toward the door.

And then he breaks. What the fuck has he done?

“Please don’t go. I’m in love with you.”

You halt. 

“Listen, I…I know I fucked up. Today…fuck, baby, I know. I just…last night…”

You slowly turn back to him.

You’ve never heard him grasping for words before. Never seen him so unsure of himself. And what he just said… Love. 

He sighs, then settles his hands on his hips, while he looks down to the stained carpet beneath his boots.

“I only realized it this morning. How I feel. I mean, I knew I felt it before. But I tried to play it off as anything but that. I didn’t want to acknowledge it—admit it. I mean, fuck, what if you didn’t feel the same? What if I got rejected?”

He looks up to you. “I don’t know how to do any of this shit—being with someone, having feelings for them. Loving them, letting them love me. It’s not my style. Or wasn’t. Fuck, I don’t know. But I just…started seeing you differently the more we spent time together.

“And I guess I thought today…if I pushed you away, then the feelings might dissipate? I mean, look what happened the last time I loved—trusted—someone. She left.”

Your brow twitches.

“And I don’t know that feeling?” You ask in anger.

He takes a step closer to you. “I know you do. I just—”

You cut him off. “Just stop, Billy.”

He shuts his mouth. 

You drop your bags, then sit back down again and think.

You want to be understanding, but he's making showing kindness toward him incredibly difficult to do.

Finally, after a very long stretch of silence—him beginning to sweat, thinking you’re about to leave again—you speak. 

“I get pushing me away,” you say softly. “You said it before—that I had no friends back in Hawkins. And fear of abandonment was why. If I didn’t let anyone in, then they couldn’t walk away. But I’ve tried with you. Over and over again. And every time, you swing from one extreme to the other.”

You look at him. “You’ve given me whiplash you’ve done it so much. And today…”

You trail off, and a lump forms in your throat.

“Do you have any idea what you put me through?” You ask in a whisper.

He pulls over a chair, and sits in front of you, then takes your hands in his. “I put you through hell, I know.”

You shake your head, and look away from him.

“You made me feel so…”

Your chin wobbles.

“I felt so alone. And for the first time, I realized not a single person in the world wants or cares about me.” 

Tears begin to slip down your cheeks.

And he nearly begins to cry himself at having made you think that for even a second.

He broke your heart.

You continue. “I thought a lot of horrible things today. Thought about throwing myself out of your car.”

His throat bobs.

“About going back home, not caring what happens to me—if he follows through on his promise. I decided, at the movie, that I was going to leave while you were asleep tonight—too afraid to do it while you were awake.”

You look at him. “That’s what you’ve made me feel toward you: afraid.”

You look down to his bruised hand and pull your own away. 

“I don’t know how to trust you anymore. Last night I thought was…”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought anymore. You’ll never change. I left Hawkins to get away from another man just like you. I would've been better off had I just done things on my own.”

You know you’re wasting your breath, so you stand again and grab your things.

Just as your hand settles over the doorknob, he breaks down crying. “Please don’t leave. I’ll do fucking anything. Please, Y/N. I…I can’t lose you, too. Please, God, I’m begging you, stay.”

You turn the handle, and then he comes over to you and falls on his knees. He presses his face into your stomach, and he begins to cry harder.

“I love you. Please. I’ll change, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll be whoever you need me to be. Just don’t walk out that door, I’m fuckin’ begging you.”

You sniffle, despite telling yourself repeatedly not to cry—that he doesn’t mean it. It’s just another manipulation tactic. But you know this time is anything but.

He’d never cry in front of you—or anyone—unless the tears and the words leaving his lips are true.

“How can I trust you now?” You ask through gentle sobs.

He presses his cheek against your stomach then, while his hands grip your soft hips. “Just let me prove to you that I can be better. The kind of man that’s worthy of you.”

He finally stands, and he cups your face in his hands. “Angel, I know I don’t deserve you. Fuck, I probably never will. And I know you deserve a hell of a lot better than me. But you’re all I want. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you. I…I need you. Just, what can I do to fix this?”

You turn your head, and look at the door, and his heart begins to break. 

“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. Just…”

He steps away for a moment, and he reaches into his bag, then pulls out a wad of cash. He doesn’t stop counting until he’s reached a grand.

“Take this,” he says, shoving the bills into your hand.

Your eyes go wide and you look up at him. 

“If you want the gun too—”

You shake your head.

“Billy, I—” You begin to sob again, then cover your mouth with the back of your other hand. 

You throw the money down on the table.

"I don't want your money. I don't want anything from you. Not anymore."

He grabs your face again. "Just...let me ask you one thing. Please."

You blink up at him through teary eyes.

"Do you love me?" He asks, brushing tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

Your face crumples. "I wish I knew how to stop."

He lets loose a breath of relief.

"Sweetheart, we had one bad day. A really shitty one, I know. But this is what I do when there's a risk of getting close to someone—I rail against it as hard as I can. And it always works—they walk away. Most of the time I'm the one who does. But I couldn't this time. Waiting for the other foot to finally fall, though, I was constantly on the edge of my goddamn seat waiting for it to finally happen.

"I thought... I thought that it was what I wanted. I don't. I know that now. I want you. Now. Maybe...maybe forever. I guess we can figure that part out together, if you'll still have me. If you could ever fuckin' forgive me for all the shit I've done and put you through. It's not always going to be perfect. I'm going to piss you off and keep getting on your last nerve for my own amusement. I'll never stop being a pain in your ass. But it's only because I—"

He sighs. "Because I love you. So, please, just stay. I think... I think that we belong together. Who the hell else is going to put up with me the way you have? Who else could ever understand the shit I've been through but someone else who's been through it, too?"

You stare up at him, and sniffle. Tears continue to slip from your tired eyes, and your hands shake at your sides, while your body trembles.

Every part of you is screaming for you to finally do it: run. Every part except your heart.

You know it might be the biggest mistake you've ever made, but it wouldn’t be the first time.

You bury your face in his chest then, fist the back of his shirt in your hands, and you begin to wail, letting it all out—everything.

From your mom abandoning you in the middle of the night, to your dad taking every ounce of anger and frustration out on you. As well as your loneliness, your sadness, your hopelessness, your fear, and finally, the torment Billy has subjected you to.

You cry and cry until your legs give out, and both of you sink to the floor.

He wraps his arms around you, and holds you close.

He rests his cheek against the top of your head.

"Never again," he promises, gently rocking you.

It takes every ounce of strength you have left to believe him.

[im-always-the-problem-its-me]

i don't know what the fuck just happened

i somehow managed to fuck up SO's birthday and feel awful. ive gotta make a big drive tomorrow night and have to fuck up my sleep schedule on purpose and with how emotionally exhausting this whole day was it's that much more difficult.

i legit started rambling, feeling very 'i'm a piece of shit, what do you want..let's make jokes about how fucked up i am while i detach emotionally when you have a breakdown' like roman fucking roy and then i even said 'i'm roman fucking roy, i don't know what you want from me'.

here's what i think happened: nutshell version because being vague is safer and i'm also tired.

SO has been depressed. i can't do shit about it. i have a bad habit when i'm overwhelmed with my own shit to be like 'let's try to just be super happy and pretend his breakdown isn't happening because i can't handle men crying on the floor because i'm used to men getting angry, yelling or worse...hitting me.' so i avoid. it's a symptom of complex PTSD apparently and also i think ptsd doesn't accurately describe what i have anymore because nothing is 'post'. this shit is happening right now and im constantly triggered because i figured out i'm still being abused and emotionally manipulated by my parents as an adult and i don't know wtf to do about it. i think im going to need therapy again. SO says he thinks he wants to go see one again too.

there's nothing wrong with our relationship. it's individually, we're both fucked up. it doesn't help i have this 'not really, but kind of' a side thing but it's not affecting things here. (im still a piece of shit because if anything its kind of an emotional affair...i dont know...feelings are fine...if i act on them then that's different...this is an old flame too and we're close, always have been...it's just an intense friendship bordering upon dangerous with flirtations but THAT'S NOT THE ISSUE)

'you never shut up' SO said to me out of anger. broke down after he said it even though i agreed even though it stung. i told him don't worry about it. it was true. i need to to not put all my shit on him. that's why i suggested therapy again.

i explained that i don't feel mad or upset by anything that happened tonight..just feel bad because yes he called me out on being emotionally detached and i have been lately because im a fucking mess. i also tend to run from everything so i even told him fuck it, we can move back because it's fine me being a mess but since he's the breadwinner, when he falls apart it's bad for both of us. i'm already on benefits because of epilepsy that's intractible. nothing I can do about that. but he needs to be ok.

he keeps looking at me like i'm nuts but dude, i've been running my whole life. i wanted to settle and stay here forever and i love this place more than any place i have ever lived but look i'm still sick here and i got issues popping up like god hates me.

i'm not even roman roy. i think because i detached instead of wearing it on my face or crying like kendall. maybe i'm a mix of both. i dunno. that show speaks to me on so many levels. i rewatched Hannibal too and i'm just like wtf. then i picked my favorite mommy issues movies to put on.

here's what i know happened: two people who love each other very much aren't doing well mentally but their relationship isn't what's making the other fucked up. it's everything else they have never dealt with making them individually fucked up and tonight it blew up. bad timing. neither of us could help each other. he got rightfully pissed. i am not upset he got pissed and the one thing he said out of anger was a very true fucking statement that put a big mirror in front of my face.

i realized too that i cannot handle a man having a breakdown. he asked why i always just walk away from him when hes like that? well because i don't know what to do with it and also what if it turns into something else and the man is going nuts on me or taking it out on me? i don't know. i'm very fucked up.

i hate victim mentality bullshit. i try not to put stuff on anyone. so i sweep it away like it's not fucking happening and i got called out on that. i don't know how to be there for him. i can't help it i have ingrained weird ideas. i try just not to be a cunt ok? and i don't know maybe i was one tonight? i don't even know. i apologized for getting loud when i did because i had my earplugs in so didn't realize how loud i was and i also hadn't eaten all day and it was making me hangry so my brain couldn't even process anything until after i ate.

a man shaking and crying on the floor because of me? (or what i perceived as being about me?) all i thought was get away from him because you're hurting him and nothing you do is going to make it better...and then it was like i felt like my mom. that's what she did. no comfort for the crying ones...just walk away until it's over. but i'm not his mommy. i'm his SO. he even said 'i don't want you to baby me or anything, just a little comfort would be nice.' he's right. but again, why are you crying in the first place? i'm selfish so i'm thinking 'wtf i'm a mess...now i have to wonder why you're a mess...wtf' and jfc no....i don't know what the fuck happened.

we need to both get some help with our issues somehow or we're not going to make it if repeats like this keep happening. i can't even call it a fight. it was more just a collective breakdown. he went to bed red eyed and mumbling. i'm up exhausted but numb af.

fucking a.

it's good i'll be gone for a day. give us both some time away just to think. well, he'll be able to anyway, ill be cramped in a car with 7 other people for 18 hours. not that i'm complaining. i've gotta do this to help out with bills and plus now i've got an obligation because my mother keeps putting shit on me and didn't even give me a chance to say no and if i don't make this trip a lot of people are out of money so im basically unable to back out even if wanted to. fuck it. i think i'll finally be able to chill next year. i'm going to make myself anyway. get through holidays. have a good time on our concert trip in january. hopefully by them my SO and i are in better places mentally too.

one hour at a time.

[kaiowut99]

Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters GX Episodes 99-101 Subbed (Finalized) - Fixes/Edits Breakdown (Part 2)

Since it’s 2023 and Tumblr still has a dumb link limit in posts, I had to break up my Fixes/Edits Breakdown post supplementing my 99-101 Release Post with my usual animation fix/edit breakdown into two parts, since I wanted to still link to the images to give the interested a visual element.  Details for 101's fixes below the cut! (Part 1 for 99 and 100 here.)

Fixes/Edits! (101) phew

After Ed Special-Summons Diskguy from his Cemetery, he draws two cards from his effect, but as we get a peek at the cards, they're actually just blank cards. Fixed this in AfterEffects by applying a Devilguy and Doctor D proxy, as he plays both shortly after this (though we don't get a shot earlier confirming whether he had Doctor D in his hand or not, but Devilguy's in front so just the Magic Card border's visible).

As Saiou bemusedly says that "Ed can't hope to leave even a mere scratch on the firm wall of destiny," we see Ed's field in front of him, with Defense-Mode Devilguy's card under him positioned in Attack Mode. Fixed this in AfterEffects by applying a proxy correctly in Defense Mode under him for a frame, masking in his legs and coat around it, then using Sony Vegas to re-keyframe it panning across the screen.

On his next turn, as Saiou explains the effect of the Necro Sacrifice card he activated, the shot in #2 is reused and slightly zoomed in, with Saiou slightly redrawn and holding onto the same error with Devilguy. Fixed in Vegas by just zooming in my fix in #2 and recreating the pan across the screen.

A few shots later, after Saiou summons The Empress and Emperor to Ed's field through Necro Sacrifice, he tells Ed he can choose their Battle Modes--but the shot of him moves to the right a frame before Ed starts sliding into a split-screen to declare Defense Mode. I fixed this in Vegas by masking out Ed's full split and redoing his slide-in to happen simultaneously with Saiou moving, using some of the background to hide his original slide-in.

A bit later, as he explains how The Devil's upright effect destroyed Devilguy, Saiou adds that the destroyed Monster's controller takes damage, but as he does so, we see the card he has face-down on his Disk looking like a blank orange card. Fixed this in AfterEffects to The Material Road card he'd drawn and set previously in 100.

After the eyecatch, good Saiou and Ed have a mental conversation as rain pours around them (Saiou holding up an umbrella for Ed), and as Ed reminds a resigned Saiou that he chose him as someone who could alter his fate of destruction, Saiou dejectedly turns away saying that it's too late for him--and while he turns away, his uniform's shoulder and the outer rim to the shoulder strap/flap suddenly vanish, leaving the trees behind him visible, though they return as he moves to look up. As detailed here, fixed this by redrawing both for the 36 total frames this issue was around for in Photoshop, applying redrawn rain lines as needed, then inserting the fixed frames into the video in Photoshop.

Some time later, Ed's summoned Bloo-D onto his field; as he explains to Light Saiou that he can absorb an opposing Monster, he's shocked as their split-screen splits apart to show Bloo-D poised to do just that--but you'll notice that their splits are a bit uneven as they split out. Fixed this in Vegas by redoing Ed's split's slide-out to be more timed with Saiou's.

[split due to Tumblr's dumb text-characters-per-block limit]

(8) After Bloo-D absorbs The World and has his first attack against Saiou rendered damageless, he activates the effect of his D-Burst in his Cemetery--as he explains that it lets Bloo-D attack twice this turn, Saiou slides into a split-screen in shock before they split out to show Bloo-D behind them as his ATK's halved to do just that, but a few things happen: 1) a repeat of #4 happens but in reverse, as the shot of Ed moves to the left a frame before Saiou's split starts to slide in, 2) after their splits meet, Ed's side starts to move a frame before they start to split, with 3) a black screen behind them as they properly split before Bloo-D appears. Fixed these each in Vegas by 1) redoing Saiou's slide-in to be timed with Ed moving, 2) adding a border to Ed's side and masking in Bloo-D between them to start the proper slide-out right as Ed moves, and 3) using Bloo-D to cover up the black screen.

(9) After Saiou narrowly survives, he starts his last turn and activates his face-down The Material Road before then activating The Spiritual Road, but a couple things happen: 1) the shot of The Material Road flipped up zooms out slightly a frame before The Spiritual Road clicks into a split-screen as it activates, and 2) after both are glowing, the split-screen splits apart to show the pillars of light forming near Saiou, but Spiritual Road's split moves a frame before Material Road's does to start showing Saiou. Fixed these in Vegas by 1) holding the frame just before the slight zoom-out over the zoom-out frame so it happens right as of the split-screen happening, and 2) holding the split-screen a frame longer over Spiritual Road's early moving so the split-out starts on the next frame with Saiou showing.

(10) During the 102 preview, we see the shot of Saiou activating Light Barrier, which shows the field as the screen zooms out and the barrier's formed, but Bubbleman on Judai's field has his Defense-Mode card under him facing to the left; should be facing to the right with its effect box visible to Bubbleman's left. Fixed this first for 102 before applying the fix here, using a proxy in AfterEffects to place a correctly facing card under Bubbleman and masking him on top of it for a frame, then using that frame in Vegas and redoing the zoomout for it, using a quick layer of solid white that I masked in per the bit of light from Light Barrier's forming that floats over Bubbleman to recreate it.