#They just Didn’t Say Anything bc they thought it was just disassociation like I did | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sh1-n0bu · 2 years ago

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congrats on reaching 300 followers!!! may i request for hetalia? (i’m not sure on the maximum amount of characters allowed so i’ll make a list, you can skip anyone you don’t want to write for) how would scotland, wales, spain, portugal, france and northern ireland deal with an s/o who’s always lost in their thoughts? like they’re always imagining up complex storylines with their own characters, impossible scenarios, procrastinating, giving themselves unnecessary anxiety, and it’s turned to maladaptive daydreaming at this point. they know this, and they say they’re trying to change, but deep down they really don’t want to because reality hurts, and they’d rather be lost in their own little world instead. am i self-inserting too much? probably-

✿ 𝙞’𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙 ✿

characters: francis (france), allistor (scotland), dylan (wales), antonio (spain) and siamas (northern ireland) x nb!reader

warnings: hints of maladaptive daydreaming, disassociation, insomnia, existential crisis, comfort, fluff, light angst

notes: phew it has been so long since i had last watched hetalia so i had to watch a lot of vids, comps and read the fandom articles to remind myself of them lmao. with that the characters also might come off OOC

hetalia fandom r u still alive????? if so then yall better prepare bc once my inbox gets flooded with hetalia reqs im gonna terrorize yall🕴🕴

francis is a romantic through and through and due to that he daydreams as well. whether it be romantic dates or acts you and him could do together, recreating gentle scenes from his favorite romance novels, plan out your date and anniversaries - francis is a romantic soul and he feels your daydreaming problem to a certain degree.

whenever he notices you suddenly go quiet, eyes hazy and unfocused, staring at something while fiddling with the strands of your hair, nails, the strings of your hoodie or anything you can get your hands on, the man would let out a sigh and sit behind you. pulling your body close to himself and slowly rocking you both back and forth gently - waiting patiently for you to come back to the real world.

but sometimes francis just can’t help but get a little bit selfish. wanting your attention only on himself but he knows it’s wrong.

so that’s why, when you stepped into your shared home with the blond after another draining day at work, he had already prepared a tea party setup with your favorite novel’s theme, dressed up as your favorite character with a charming smile and gentle eyes. candles lit, the freshly baked goods’ scent wafting through the air enough to make you drool alongside a hot, steaming marble pot filled with a chamomile tea.

“mon amour, would you care for a tea with me?”

before you two started dating, allistor thought of your stimming and daydreaming moments as something familiar to his brother, arthur.

perhaps you saw something that the normal people couldn’t see and interact with them like his little brother, so the redhead didn’t ask anything of it nor did he thought it’s anything problematic. however he got smacked in the face by how deeply your maladaptive daydreaming problems run when after your date at the cafe together, you almost got hit by a car when crossing the street with unfocused eyes and slow, dragged steps.

since then, allistor took it upon himself to study and research more about the differences of daydreaming and maladaptive ones, what causes them to happen, the reason for one to end up having such an odd yet harsh behavior.

whenever you would end up stimming with your headphones plugged in, mindlessly and robotically going through your work with an eerie silence - the man would observe you for a while, trying to decipher if you’re slipping a bit too deep into the dreams before walking over to you and gently tapping on your shoulder.

when your lovely eyes would lock with his own bright blue ones he would give you a smile and reach out a hand. a silent invitation for a slow dance with him - a formerly talked upon agreement that you two made to help you reground again after another slip.

“dalrin’ would you care to share your dreams with me?”

dylan loves fantasy creatures and stories like his brothers and due to that the blond daydreams quite often as well. about the different mythical creatures, their origins, territory, how they would live and interact with one another - all sorts of things.

he tends to stim a lot without even noticing as well so dylan would be the best person to share your struggles of maladaptive daydreaming. not to mention the short man always carries around a big sponge or those cute, character shaped stress balls.

the first time when he found you completely unresponsive laying on your bed with your headphones in, dylan immediately knew what was going on. so he silently slipped into the bed next to you, held your hand in his own and rubbed slow circles into the flesh until you came back again.

since then you both had made a promise to each other to try and get better. slowly but surely working on your behaviors, problems and sudden slips. and it’s safe to say that you both had gotten better.

“cupcake! if you slip down the rabbit hole again then take my hand and drag me down with you! ‘cuz i don’t ever want to be without you.”

antonio is a bright and optimistic young man, however sometimes he comes off as blunt and insensitive due to him not fully being able to read the situation at hand.

perhaps it’s due to his inability to read the room that he was able to snap you out of your slip so easily and effectively when you two first met. a simple pat to your shoulder and voice asking you “what are you doing sitting around without doing anything for?” definitely stopped your daydreaming.

after you had said your answer to him in an unsure voice, the bright smile wearing man simple smiled even brighter and asked you if you wanted to be friends.

and since then antonio and you two became friends. meeting up in small shops, restaurants, gardens, everywhere anywhere all at once until one day after almost 2 years of friendship the young man asked you if you would like to take your relationship a step further.

whenever he finds you stimming with your fingers while gazing at someplace far away, he just can’t help but get a bit sad. you wanted to be someplace that’s not here and antonio didn’t want you to go somewhere where he can’t be with you.

so he would always rubs simple shapes into your hand or shoulder, giving you an unusually melancholic smile with his pinky raised.

“pinky promise to always come back from your wonderland to me?”

siamas is a loud and chatty fellow - the perfect human representation of a golden retriever if only he had blond hair instead of red.

it was all thanks to his bright personality that you have been getting better and better at regrounding yourself back again when alone.

when siamas first saw your behavior with his own eyes he immediately knew what it was. so the redhead calmly walked over to your sitting form on the couch, kneeling before you and started to plant butterfly kisses on your cheeks. trailing them slowly over your acnes/moles/freckles until you snapped back and let out a giggle at his sweet antics.

he always has a lot of different toys, chibis and cute little bracelets connected to his keychain so whenever you two are going out kn a walk or a date, when he feels your hand become loose in his own he would proudly pull out his keychain and put one of the toys into your hand. gently squeezing yours - which is holding the toy - in his own, giving you a smile and a proud kiss to your forehead when you ground yourself back.

“welcome back honey. so what do you think of getting for dinner today?”

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sunshinesroom · 2 years ago

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why do i do this to myself? why do i love the self sabotage i impose upon myself? why do i continuously strive for the feeling, of feeling like nothing to anyone? i hate feeling the way i do and i certainly wish i could stop it. i don’t know how. i don’t know how to stop from saying and making decisions, not every part of me agrees with. i don’t know how to stop the anxiety of trying to understand. i don’t know how to stop seeing the patterns in all the things that happen in my life. how do you make it stop? what is one supposed to do when the urge and the impulse to know how someone feels, is so uncontrollably uncomfortable, that you have no choice but to flow with the urge? what do i do? how do i make it stop? the medication only helps for so long before i feel like shit again and the weed i smoke only lasts so long. tell me how. i feel like people expect me to know how to be and i feel like i literally just started existing. how does one know how to be when they don’t even fully know themselves? why do i have to be the one to know and be prepared? why can’t i, just once, be the one someone grovels over? why can’t i be looked at as the muse? why do i feel so attached to this dream and why does it feel so fucking real? why does it feel so real if it’s all talk? why do i only understand what it all means when i’m by her side? why doesn’t she see me? why does she see past me when she is all i can see? why her? why did god put her in my life, just to take her away? why why why? i don’t understand why i feel the way i do when i know it’s all going to be over soon; nothing is going to matter after she goes and i will return to the small, feble life that i was in before she came around. i know why i stay and i know why it’s so painful; i believe in it so much, im blind to the reality that she will never want me in the same way. she will leave, live her life so beautifully and i will remain in the world she left behind as if it never happened. why do i feel the way i do when i know it only hurts me in the end? why do i do this to myself, put myself in the positions that serve me the most pain? why does my brain catastrophize everything? why did god give me a fucking brain that makes everything feel like the world is always fucking ending; i’m prepared for anyone to walk away when they’re fed up with me and my feelings. it’s fucking exhausting, living and existing in this fucking brain, that isn’t just one brain, mind you. and that is why i feel crazy; bc i’m not the only mind that exists in this body and i am not just one singular person. disassociation has created different parts of me im not always in control of and that in itself is impossible to manage. how is one supposed to function like this? why do i pick people who aren’t caring about it? about my needs as a someone who just wants to live and figure out the world around them? why do i chose people who don’t look to understand me? why do i always feel so misunderstood, when i am so clear about what i need? i’m so tired. maybe i’m just meant to be alone. maybe i’m just destined to never be understood and seen. i want to be seen and heard and understood. i guess i do it to myself; give people the reasons to defend misunderstandings. i’m confusing to myself, how can i expect anyone to be able to understand. how foolish of me to believe that anyone would actually take the time to understand me, and make it last. how dumb i am for thinking i meant more to anyone. it will be my fault for trying when my effort didn’t mean anything to anyone, truly. catastrophizing everything again. i’m sorry, it’s how my brain is wired, and if you think you’re tired, try existing in the constant thought that everything around you is always falling apart 100% of the time. i fucking wish i didn’t feel this way and i would literally do anything to make it stop. i am losing my mind trying to be and exist for people who don’t make me feel like they care or that i matter more. when did i become so hateful of myself? when did i start to believe that i was nothing? i just want to know i matter.

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ofmythsandmadness · 3 years ago

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to be called beautiful | d.h.

❛ do you ever miss, having someone around to love you?❜

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SUMMARY: vigilantes!au. you push the boundaries of your relationship, and ask for a wish you know won't be given back. (or — it's late, and after another night of patrol, loneliness sets in deep.) WARNINGS: slightly nsfw??? mentions to sex, no descriptions. it's not a sexual story, just a part of an inner monologue. WORD COUNT: 2.6k+ NOTES: reposting this in hopes it shows up this time (pls pls pls i'm gonna cry). i've been writing a whole other series that is a totally different writing style, but i've been trying to work out my emotions in small, focused pieces like this one when i can't focus. i might develop this into a small ficlit series of it's own, bc i think it's kinda fun — but we'll see how this goes.

THE BEAST THAT IS YOUR LONELINESS has been your burden for too long to say.

It's hold on you is a familiar ache, one you've felt for years, like a chronic tight tugging on your heart that refuses to give in no matter what you try. But you still refuse to name it for fear of coming to terms with the implications of it all. That you're really alone in this life and you're terrified of what that means and the fact that you can't have what your childhood stories promised would be yours.

Like the fool you are, you cling to the idea that it's just passing notions. You'll get over it one day. The flitting daydreams of a fairytale romance better fit for a vanilla Hallmark flick suck, but one day they won't hurt so bad. You'll numb and find a way to fill the void. And you try, you really do, pushing it down for the quick release of meaningless acts and walks of shames and cold bedsheets.

Sex is a toxic friend. You choose it's pull when your heart aches most and the loneliness begs for your breath to the point where every gasp of air is a privilege, not the bare minimum. It's not what you crave. There's no romance, no love. It's a trade and one that always leaves you feeling robbed of something you're not sure you ever even had.

You rarely remember their names. You know they probably won't remember yours. And why would they? The shudders, the whimpers, the cold moans that amount to nothing but crumbs of a supposedly passionate act only pass an hour, then they're gone. Or you're gone, if you're lonely enough to risk it. A bit of fun, a breath of pink and white and the feeling of someone pulling you closer, begging for your skin against theirs.

And then, it's all grey again. And you're alone at your apartment, washing your body free of the marks some stranger dared to press into your wilting skin, wondering what it would feel like for a lover to kiss you that same way. Running your fingers over every inch that has been caressed by so many faceless guests, trying to hold yourself in the way your foolish heart pounds for. But it's never enough. Your hands don't cup your flesh, don't mould and kiss and promise the carefully knitted lies any lover had dealt you in the past. And you're as cold as ever when they fall back to your sides. Nothing enflames your skin like you wishes it could — like those you wish would.

It's a discontent you live with. Just as you're sure millions of others do. That's what life is; you push yourself through the day, through your mundane day job and your taxing nighttime hobbies (because you sure as hell can't claim what you do as real work if your only pay is in blood and tears). You cling to the good times that happened too long ago to remember clearly, and make the moments that you're alone with your thoughts as small as possible.

But there's no time to consider all that now.

You scrunch your face up as tight as you can, squeezing your eyes shut to the point where you see stars, exploding like confetti in some absurd black void that hides behind your lids. For a moment you hold the pose, watching the stars erupt, until the position hurts too much and you have to release.

Surroundings blur and then clear as your eyes readjust from their disassociation. You stare blearily at the random coffee shop you and your 'associate' chose for the night. It's just as generic as the last five visited, a thousand shades of brown and red and weary smiles the bored baristas wear just for a cheap check that'll barely cover their asses. It's worn and empty; no one's hear except the two of you and the workers who probably hate you for being here so late.

Normally, you would feel like an asshole staying so late. But you can't bring yourself to move, or even suggest to. It's all too heavy. And even if it's in brooding silence, you don't want to leave your partner. Not yet, you beg the universe, just a few more minutes.

And, speaking of—

"What's got you so blue today?"

You blink. Look over to him, only to see him already watching you.

There's really no point lying. He always unravels you too quickly, too easily — it's the detective in him, unravelling anyone and scooping their truths from shivering flesh. Some sort of childhood trauma response he developed into another super power.

You used to hate it. Now...if you concentrate hard enough, his sharp gaze feels like one of a lover's.

"Don't know what you mean," you tell him, foolish and flustered. "I'm just fine."

"Bullshit. You've sighed a dozen times in the last five minutes."

"Tch. No I haven't."

"Did too!"

His teeth glint, white and clashing against the full pink of his lips. You wish you could denounce all the times you wondered what it would feel like to have them graze against your keening skin — but not even all the gods could cleanse of you of those thoughts. Those desperate, pleading, melancholic memories stain; he can't see them, but you do when you look close enough. And you can't escape it, much as you try.

"Seriously, though. What's up with you?"

Your gaze falls down to your hands, eager to escape his allure, though it's not a great distraction. It only makes you more bitter, really, taking in all the flaws that litter your weaponised limbs. They're calloused from a million fights. Your knuckles are scarred, aching from wounds you reopen every other night. A thousand scars from a thousand scrapes, cuts, slashes and grazes linger on once perfect skin. You don't know how many there are, anymore, only that you wish you could wipe them off. Start over, have a clean slate. Erase all your mistakes and be beautiful again.

"I'm just tired," you lie. It's tense and pitiful; you know you've screwed it up the second the words leave your lips. "S'all."

"Ri-i-ight, and I'm the goddamn queen of England."

The absurdity of his retort makes your lips twitch. It's not enough for a smile, your self-inflicted misery makes sure of that, but it's a seed of something. "Wow. Didn't know I was in the presence of royalty."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut it."

"My apologies, your highness."

"Shut up, you little shit," he grumbles, but it's as soft as you get from him. It's practically a cry of love — or your foolish mind paints it as such. You take his teasing insults as promises of adorations and his arguments are poems of lust and infatuation that tug on your heartstrings in ways you know they shouldn't.

You're partners, for crying out loud. Professional coworkers (if you call the bloody mess you two create work). You don't get to miss him, or crave him, or love him like you do.

"Something happen to you?"

You watch his own hands fold and unfold on the table. The long, delicate fingers stand out on a man like him; someone who paints himself in only sharp angles and cutting lines. But you think they match him well. They promise life. Bleed hope, even in the raised scars that lace his skin like your own. You've watched those fingers grip a blade, launch it into flesh, pull and push and dig and rip and take and committed acts of atrocity most people would run from. You know he probably thinks of his hands the same way you do. But you think they're beautiful.

"Nah. It's...it's nothing. Really."

You can't see his face, but you imagine his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows asking for an answer you're just not willing to give. "C'mon, just tell me. Can't be that bad."

Your body laughs. You hear it from some place far away. It's cold and hoarse; you wonder how long it's been since you've heard a genuine laugh from yourself. You wonder if he notices (and wishes he did, foolishly, frivolously...).

It's probably stupid, but you go for it.

"You ever miss having someone?"

Something creaks; his chair, groaning as he shifts his weight. One of his fingers taps against his empty coffee cup; idle music for a restless soul.

"Like, in what way?"

"I..." Your nails dig into your palms. This was a mistake, but one you have to follow through with. He won't accept silence after something like that. "In the cheesy, domestic sorta way? That whole, havin' someone to come home to, someone who you can talk to, someone who..." the words stick like molasses in the back of your throat. Try as you do, they refuse to give themselves to him, so you have to substitute. "Just, someone who likes you, past your body or, or whatever."

"Oh."

"Sorry." It's your turn to shift in your seat, awkwardly searching for something to occupy yourself with as this uncomfortable energy you've created carries on. But your cup's empty, and you don't have the cash to ask for another overpriced latte. "Forget about it. Let's talk about somethin' else, yeah?"

He doesn't answer that. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if you've just crossed the line of no return. You can't bring yourself to look at him, hell your cowardice is painful enough to make you wonder if you should just make a run for it, say au revoir! to the bond you've built with this knife-obsessed robin hood and crush your heart forever.

It's tempting, and you consider it, but then he fills the silence.

"I miss Eudora sometimes."

Finally, your gaze tilts up. Your eyes meet his lips. He's not smiling anymore.

You guys don't talk about exes together. It's a forbidden topic, same as family or childhoods or the number of people that have cut you open and bled you dry for fun. It's too personal, and in this line of work, personal doesn't fly. But you know Eudora Patch, because this line of work requires a couple run ins with people like her, and because your partner in crime has never learned how to stop his emotions from bleeding into his expression.

"Not because I still love her, but y'know..." his fingers wave aimlessly. "It was nice, when it worked. I liked having someone to sleep with. In a non-sexual manner." His lip curls a little. "Guess the sex part was nice too, though."

You nod. "Yeah, I get that. It's...it was nice, having someone who knew you. Who wanted to make you feel good, not just for themselves but 'cause that sort of things matters."

"Mm."

"Y'ever consider pursuing that sort of thing?"

He shakes his head. His adamancy is a truck smashing into your heart — though you know you should have expected no less, it still hurts. "I can't. It never works, with people like us. Y'know?"

"Yeah. Makes sense." You want to say more. You probably should say more — but you doubt he wants to hear your woes about intimacy, and the pathetic ways you crave affection you probably don't deserve. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Hm?"

His brows knot. "Why're you asking? Someone do somethin'?"

"What? No."

"Cause, like, if someone's hurt you, I'll—"

"I'm fine," you promise, and without thinking, you reach across the table to pat his hand. To reassure him like one would a lover. But just before your fingers meet his, the bitter reminder that he's not yours sets in and you draw back. Your hand falls a couple inches from his own. "And I can take care of myself, if I wasn't. Don't worry."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "Y'sure about that? You're still the dumbass that tripped over her own feet twice walking down an empty sidewalk, and—"

"—oh, you are such an asshole, why can't you just—"

"—so if you need someone to cut a bitch, I'm available."

You soften slightly. Try to smile, even if it's a false promise and probably hangs like a broken door on mismatched hinges. "I appreciate that. But I'm okay. Think I'm just tired, and a little lonely."

"What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

Bitterness seeps onto your tongue; it speaks before you can shut your lips around it. "You're fine as a partner against crime. But you're not anything otherwise, are you?" It feels like a taunt. You hadn't meant it to be — though, maybe you had.

If he takes your jeer poorly, though, it doesn't show on his face. He's still smiling and watching you, eyes simmering with a joke you wish you were in on.

"It doesn't matter though. Having someone's too complicated, 'specially for fools like us. Sometimes it's just..." you don't have a good answer. Not one he'd want to hear, anyways. "I just miss it sometimes. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to, or eat breakfast with in the mornings."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Was nice, having another body around."

"Yeah. Ha. I," you stutter out a chuckle. Tug at your lip, nibbling at the cracked skin that comes with your long nights. "No one prepares you for how lonely adulthood is. Like, I'm half tempted to make friends with the takeout guys, just so I have a friend at all."

"We're friends."

"You know what I mean," you mumble, swallowing the bitter 'are we?' that almost makes its way off your tongue. "It was just nice when I had the time, to have a person around. Someone to like, hold hands with, or-or call me beautiful, sometimes. I-I can't remember the last time called me that, any..."

Fuck.

You hadn't meant for that last confession.

He wasn't supposed to hear that. It's too personal, too personal, too fucking personal for someone you don't even know.

Everything trembles; you're shaking like an avalanche, ready to sweep it all away under some snow drift. Never to be seen again. But you can't do that, there's no taking back the way your voice cracked as it reaches it's last word, and how your hand slips into a fist, ready to charge even though there's no punching your way out of this fumble.

You crack. Stumble out of your seat. Before he can talk you're moving, throwing a couple bills (too many for your poor wallet, you'll pay for that later) down and mumbling something about heading home. Your head's spinning and you just want to sit down again, pretend like this never happened and ask about some meaningless moment in a meaningless day that you wish could be yours and his, not just—

"—text me when you're goin' out again," you say, high and nervous. "I'll be around."

You turn.

"You don't have to leave."

"I got work tomorrow. Early."

"Thought you had the day off?"

Fuck, la deuxième acte. "Taking a shift for someone."

"Oh." He doesn't believe you. He would be a fool to. But he agrees anyways. "Okay."

"See ya, Kraken."

He doesn't answer you back. It's probably better that way.

BONUS

Many hours later, you're in bed, finally dozing off. You've rinsed off the filth of the night and resigned yourself to a barely adequate rest alone, too tired to consider what usually makes your mind race. It's been a long day; let future you contemplate all the ways you've screwed up.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, however, there's a small ping! that immediately wakes you up A notification sound reserved for only one person.

You groan but still roll over. Your heart may be a humiliated, burning mess, but it still beats for him, much as you've tried to stifle it.

kraken // 2:36 am. you available at 11p tomorrow?

kraken // 2:37 am. got word somethin going down at east docks, wanna check it out before it gets bad.

Relief is a sweet blessing. You exhale and smile into the darkness. He's still a professional, even if you seem unable to understand what that means.

you // 2:40 am. for sure. meet me at my place whenever and we can prep.

You leave it at that. Whatever he has to say after that, cannot be too important to waste your precious hours of sleep. So you roll over and shut your eyes and let yourself forget about the empty space that fills your place.

It's a decision you regret the next morning, when you wake up and realise what you missed.

kraken // 3:31 am. you ever get lonely for someone, feel free to let me know.

kraken // 3:32 am. might not make a great boyfriend, but i'll eat breakfast with you. so long as you're cooking.

A/N - I had a whole idea for two tired vigilantes (like what Diego does in season one, but partnered up) who both are really lonely and tired of life and all it's shit, and rely on each other more than they'll ever admit, and...I'll probably never write it, but this was a fun bit of that. two lonely emotionally deprived assholes who can't accept that maybe they can be loved and the person who wants to is right in front of them. :)

#my writing #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #tua x reader #tua imagine #diego hargreeves imagine #hargreeves imagine #hargreeves x reader #gender neutral reader

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iamthedrunkgiraffe · 3 years ago

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i have tik tok drafts that are literally too painful to watch because they are from a time which i was literally dying mentally and it’s like horrible to see myself in that state but also amazing bc then i compare them and it’s just insane how much i’ve glown up and progressed and kind of found and accepted myself, like my life is NOT PERFECT AT ALL, but i was definitely at rock bottom last year and it’s just really nice to see that i’m making it through yet another winter, but this time without the dead/psycho/disassociating look in my eyes. it doesn’t seem possible that someone could be all of those things at once but i definitely was and i feel like it was just physically rolling off of me. it’s also crazy to think how visible and noticeable the fact that i was literally falling apart was, and how it not only stemmed from the people around me, but that it was also ignored completely. like to me i see just a video or a picture of myself at that time and im shocked, but some people actually saw me and talked to me every day and didn’t even acknowledge my issues. it’s a really important aspect that i need to consider when i think about my old friends and miss them, that they didn’t really care about me. sometimes it really seems like they did, and they seem so fun to be around, and i miss them a lot, but i need to remember that when i was speaking about the issues in my life they were literally ignoring and talking over me. i just cannot emphasize enough the chaos and disgustingness of my mental state at that time, like i was truly rotting away. it was a huge fight every day at every moment. like i wasn’t just fighting to wake up, i was fighting with every second of the day, and every person in my life, including myself. i was high for almost every minute of it too cuz i was so miserable. everything that happened was so horrible and confusing. i was constantly confused. nothing made sense. i thought i was in actual hell multiple times. now i don’t know about how much of this was visible, but there was obviously a lot going on up in the old noggin. now, if my friends literally just didn’t notice, they did not care or give a fuck about me. if they literally were ignoring my 8 month long depressive/psychotic episode, they are literal shitbags for not caring enough to say something. either way, they are shitbags. they always have, and always will be, dirtbag scum for they say they acted about my mental issues. i’m not saying that they’re responsible because of their lack of involvement, but as my literal lifelong best friends, they should’ve AT LEAST FUCKING ACKNOWLEDGED IT. THEY REALLY SHOULDVE STAGED AN INTERVENTION OR GOT ME ADMITTED TBH. BUT THEY ACTED LIKE EVERYRHING WAS NORMAL AND PERFECTLY FUNE. I DO NOT MISS THEM. I DO NOT NEED TO MISS THEM. I SHOULD NOT ROMANTICIZE MY PAST RELATIONSHIPS, BECAUSE THERE WAS NOTHING GOOD ABOUT THEM. THEY ARE SHITBAGS, AND ARENT WORTHY OF ME OVERTHINKING ABOUT THEM. THEY SHOULDVE LOVED ME MORE AND TREATED ME BETTER THAN THEY DID. I KNOW THAT U DONT OWE ANYONE ANYTHING, BUT WHEN SOMEONE IS SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR BESTFRIEND, YOU DEFINITELY OWE THEM LOVE AND ATTENTION. I AM NOT BEING WHINY OR OVERDRAMATIC OR ANYTHING OF THAT MATTER FOR THINKING THESE THINGS OR BEING SAD ABOUT THEM, BECAUSE IT WAS A VERY SAD AND HORRIBLE STAGE IN MY LIFE FUCK YOU BRENNA LAMM. FUCK YOU KAYLEE NEUMANN. AND ESPECIALLY FUCK YOU TO ALIVIA FUCKING MISKOVIC YOU STUPID SACK OF SHIT. FUCK YOU TO BAILEY BARBER, YOU DESPICABLE DEMON BITCH. YOU DOG FACED SNOT RAG OF A SLUG OF A SORRY CUNT OF A SHIT STAIN OF A PERSON. THAT GOES FOR EVERY GODDAMN PERSON AT HAMILTON. I HOPE YOU ALL FUCKING CHOKE TO DEATH AND DIE YOU STUPID SCUM RAT BITCHES. I PRAY TO ALL THAT US HOLY THAT ONE DAY YOU WILL FEEL A FRACTION IF THE MISERY YOU CAUSED ME AND THE PERMANENT ISSUES YOU INFLICTED ON MY MENTAL HEALTH. GO SUCK ON SATANS COCK YOU SORRY FAGGOT BITFHES CUZ WHEN YOU DIE HES GONNA BE YOUR DADDY. BITCHASS CUM RAGS!!! god this is therapeutic to imagine spitting this shit in their faces. IM GONNA FUCK ALL OF UR MORHERS AND GET THEM TO FALL IN L

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years ago

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hey! SE Saeran anon here! I agree Unknown/SE Saeran is a diff personality than Ray & Suit Saeran, bc he came to be during that 2 yr time period. But I like to believe that SE Saeran, Suit Saeran, and Ray are all aware of each other! Ik you've written abt them before but from my understanding, they aren't/don't share experiences and memories? Sorry if I'm interpreting wrong!

That's actually a whole point of what happens with dissociative identity disorder.

You are pointedly disconnected from your trauma to the point that it's protecting you from something that is a very bad and detrimental to you. Not every single person within the system will be a trauma holder. Not every person is going to have the same memories and not every person is going to know what's going on at all times with the body. That's the whole part of the dissociation. Most people that find out that they are not a singlet tend to find out when they're older in life, when you start missing hours and days, being places that you don't remember getting to, and vice versa. There may be a very specific reason why you don't know, trauma is a very touchy subject.

I guess let me preface this with the fact that I link Another Story and the Casual/Deep Routes. I do I know that many people don't do that but that's what I do and that's why I do certain things when I'm writing with them.

I can say this from secondhand experience with my partner who I've been with before knew he had DID. They did not appear and come forward until the situation called for it, and we found out that way. In my take on SE Saeran, he was once Unknown, and now he's just going by Saeran at this point. He is trying to get his life back together and just as he starting to open back up and work on everything that he's been pushing away, Ray awakens once more and is needed. Saeran is overwhelmed and cannot handle is going on around him and Ray can. That was his purpose when he was the host of the system.

He was dormant, meaning that he was literally gone for two years. He woke up in a reality where he didn't exist anymore, he was living in the bunker, and he was nowhere near Magenta and he had no explanation for it. He had no way of accessing the memories that belong to Saeran. He can't just magically connect to those pieces because that's not something that he has. He has to learn by looking through things and asking a lot of questions. His role is kind of a caretaker because he can do anything without complaining and take care of everything.

Now, in comparison to that, Suit Saeran was not dormant in this timeline. He just wasn't needed, not in the way that he was needed when Ray was around. Unknown was able to do what he had to do and be a strong person so Suit never had to go step into things. And, when Saeran starts to really suppress his anger because he's scared of hurting people, this is too much for Suit, he'll tell the household to call him Grave later on, and he lashes out. He has held on to all of the anger that they had, and when someone isn't dealing with anger how they used to it makes him want to lash out. He comes out because Saeran is scared of being angry but the thing is, it's okay to be angry, it's just you have to know how to express it without hurting others. Grave hasn't quite learned how to do that. He contains a lot of the same memories that Saeran has.

I implied in the one shot that was his that they were co-conscious sometimes. I could describe that to you how I've heard it described to me before and that's like two people being in the front seat of a car together. Like you can both see where you're going with one person might be steering in the other person might be directing, it's different for everyone.

There can be times when two personalities blur together and that tends to happen with Grave and Unknown a lot. It's just that Lila, my MC, had no way of knowing that. Nobody did. Saeran was aware of Grave, but he didn't think Grave was going to be a problem because he had been quiet for quite some time.

There's Su-Jin as well, but you didn't ask about their little so I won't go into detail about that unless you want me to. They do become aware of each other after this point so while they do know that everyone exist at this point they may not always be connecting with each other. It's a little hazy as Saeran gets used to this sensation of having more than himself around again. As they try to learn how to work together and exist together.

Yes, they can talk to each other and interact with each other but they may not hold some of the same memories. Again, that's the point of the disassociation. Sometimes they may have shared memories if they were co-conscious during the same situation or maybe they have an idea of what they were going to be doing that day but not quite what the other was doing at that moment. If you're talking about memories in the context of what may have happened in the past, then no they don't always share memories like that. Like, Saeran cannot recall things that happened to Ray. Su-Jin holds very specific trauma memories from their childhood that some of them can't even remember with glaring detail, for example.

Does that make sense? I can try to explain it further if you need me to or give you a reference material to read up on or watch. Cause, I'm just a singlet doing my best to be mindful and respectful. They are aware of each other once they make their presence known, meaning Ray, Grave and Su-Jin. Like, Ray didn't tell Saeran that he was there until the third time he happened to wake up in the body, he was scared and thought it was a fluke.

#mod kait #ask #anon #se saeran #se suit saeran #grave #se ray #kid saeran #su-jin #secret ending #saeran choi

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sunflowerhazzavol6 · 5 years ago

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i haven’t seen many blurbs like this around but i want more where harry and y/n are in a fwb type relationship but for y/n it’s strictly that and nothing more but harry wants more bc he’s fallen in love and y/n has a lot of trouble with commitment and is closed off 🥺

Unrequited

A/N- Mature content! But please enjoy some angst, since every piece I ever write is fluff. Requests are still open, so don’t be shy, put some more! Inspired by the lyrics:

‘woke up alone in this hotel room

played with myself, where were you?’

Harry wakes up to the late-morning sun shining through his window and into his face, causing him to groan and lift his hand to block it from his eyes. His head pounds while a sheering pain breaks through his consciousness, causing any lingering sleep to escape out of reach. This is the exact wake-up call he had hoped to avoid last night when he had stumbled into his bedroom, his thoughts clear enough to yank the curtains closed until he stumbled to his bed and blacked out. He glances to his bedside table to see the time, only to find a bottle of amber liquid and his empty scotch glass tipped over with its contents drip-drip-dripping onto the floor. He couldn’t find it in him to even care, pouring another glass and downing it before closing his eyes and slinging his arm over them so that all he can see from beneath his lids is black.

The sound of his ringer cuts through the silence, and he realizes the culprit for his waking up in the first place. He blindly reaches over and pats around until he finds it, lifting the screen into his vision. Jeff. The third call of what two had seemingly already been missed. He silences it, declines the call, and then turns off the screen, throwing it across the room. It ricochets off the wall and onto the loveseat covered with a pile of discarded clothes that by now were probably sour in their need for a wash. In the back of his head he thinks about how the discarded clothes used to be hers, theirs. Her panties haphazardly tossed onto the back of the chair, his shirt landing on top of them. His cock aches at the memory, and he reaches down to cup it over his sweats. In his mind’s eye he can smell her perfume, feel himself breathing it in through his mouth and through his nose while her hand travels down, down, down, over his stomach and under his slacks, finding its place where he needed her most. Against his better judgement he does the same with his own hand, allowing himself a gentle squeeze before his mind nestles itself in the memory that he had repeatedly told himself to forget, the memory that had played in his head over and over again for the past two weeks.

He liked watching her like this. Whenever she called him telling him she was thinking about him she was all corporate, strictly business and transactional. Even when she came through his door she was this way, her heels clicking against the tile until they made their way to his socked feet, her acrylic nails finding their way into his hair and her tongue searching until it met his. This is when the walls would come down, as each article of clothing would hit the floor- first her blazer, when she would whisper his name finally. Then her blouse, when she would tip her head back while his lips memorized her neck. Her bra, when her shoulders would relax and he knew she was his, in that moment. Her body would become near liquid and he would get her onto the bed, shedding his own clothing until they were nothing but moving bodies and pleasured moans, unable to tell where one of them began and the other one ended.

Her intelligence was the sexiest thing about her. She had just graduated from law school and was making her way up through the ranks of the firm, her focus never leaving the corporate ladder for a second. She was determined to surpass her male peers, and she did so with pride, knocking out any competitor that stood in her way. She had graduated at the top of her class and had a job before the commencement ceremony had even begun. Harry felt lucky to even be a part of her life, considering how she herself said she only had time for work and no fun. He knew she wouldn’t have it any other way, though, and he reveled in the fact that he could make her unravel with the curl of his fingers or the flick of his tongue despite her self-proclaimed laser focus.

He felt that power now, her orgasm fresh on his tongue as his mouth made its way up her body, kissing between her breasts until they found her matte-red pout. She takes this as a que to pull him closer by his shoulders, reaching down to grasp his hard length in her hand. He feels her press his tip to her entrance, her mouth leaving his to say “I want to ride you. Make me ride you.”

He groans at her words, flopping down to the side and grabbing at her hips to pull her over him, desperate for the stretch of her walls around him. “Make me ride you,” She repeats, but her words come out more as a breath than as an actual voice. “Make me make you cum.” He moans softly at her request, sinking himself into her effortlessly and without hesitation due to his preparation beforehand. She moves his hands to her hips and he begins to guide her, rocking her until he builds up pace and starts thrusting up into her heat. She closes her eyes and tips her head back, and that’s when he feels what was once a glorious pressure in his stomach turn into a painful one in his chest. She had been doing this lately, disassociating from the task at hand into her own state of pleasure, tricking him into thinking she was allowing him to do what he wanted when really she wanted the lack of control for herself. First her eyes would leave him, and then her hands, and he had a feeling that his moans echoing in her ears could be anyones and she wouldn’t bat an eye. She was wound up so tightly, so meticulous about her own thoughts and actions, that she used sex with him to have someone else be in control of what she was feeling, what she was doing. At first it didn’t bother him; he liked that he was that escape for her. But now he couldn’t help but to feel that maybe that was all he was. That it didn’t matter that it was him that she was tearing down walls with, but that it could have been anyone else filling her up, making her forget. He can feel her get closer to her orgasm as he gets further from his, her jaw going slack as her moans increase in volume and intensity. Pretty soon she’s coming undone on top of him, and as soon as the last wave of pleasure rolls through her body he pulls out, feeling himself going soft despite his lack of orgasm.

Y/n doesn’t seem to notice, laying down on her back with a blissful smile on her face. “Mm, you sure know how to use post-orgasm sensitivity to your advantage.”

“Do I?” He swallows, sitting up and rubbing his face.

“Well, you work that tongue of yours like a fucking dream. And then by the time I’m finished you’re hard and desperate, and make an honest woman of me with your cock…” She trails off with a sigh, biting her lower lip at the thought. Any other day this would have him up and running again, ready to give her more reason to talk like that, but now he couldn’t hold it back.

“Why don’t you look at me anymore?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you look at me anymore?” He repeats.

“Of course I do, what makes you-”

“Y/n.”

She can tell by his tone that this conversation has taken a turn, and finally she opens her eyes. When she finds his they’re visibly upset, ringed with red as if he was trying to hold back further emotions.

“Why don’t you look at me anymore?” He asks for the third time, his green eyes staring deeply into the ugliest parts of her soul. She knows he doesn’t know what he’s looking at, and she doesn’t want to be the one to break it to him even though it was her doing in the first place.

“Harry, you know what this is for me…”

“Do I? Because you sure seem to not know what it is. You call me when you’re upset, when you’ve had a bad day at work. Me, y/n. Not the other way around.”

“I just need an outlet, Harry, someone to talk to.”

“Not someone to talk to. Something to do.”

She sits up, suddenly feeling very exposed both physically and emotionally. She tugs at the corner of the sheets and he lifts his leg to free it so she can hold it to her chest, covering herself. His heart aches at the thought that he’s caused this sudden bout of self-consciousness, and suddenly wants to take it all back to have the soft y/n he had before he had opened his damned mouth.

“Well isn’t that what this is? Just sex?”

She isn’t looking at him, and suddenly he’s angry all over again. “Just sex isn’t telling someone your deepest darkest secrets at three a.m.”

She’s quiet for a second, and he can feel the fire in his chest grow as she struggles to find the right words. “I thought that was friendship. You know. Friends with benefits. You know I can’t have anything else right now, not with work and me trying to eventually make partner. Other women don’t stand a chance when they settle down and start to have kids, and I’m determined to not be those other women.”

“Who the fuck said anything about settling down and having kids, y/n? How about having a partner in life, someone to talk to, someone to come home to? That’s everything I am now, just without the label. You call me nearly every night, begging for just a few hours knowing that I’ll let you stay the night. And we don’t even always have sex! Fuck, you use me and I know it, but I let you just on the off chance that you’ll come around and change your mind-”

“Well then that’s on you for thinking it could be anything more-”

“On me?! I love you, y/n! You know for a fact that I love you, otherwise you would be calling on other men to get you off. You call me because you know I’m just desperate enough to say yes.”

“Then that means you use me just as much as I use you, Harry.”

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it? So you telling me that I’m like home to you, that’s just some casual shit you’ve said to all the guys you’ve slept with? And me soaking it up, wanting more of it, that’s me using you?”

“Oh, grow up, Harry.” She stands up, grabbing her panties from the chair and yanking them on over her legs.

“Grow up. That’s rich, coming from you. You think that just because you’ve been successful that you’re more mature than anyone else? Maturity is admitting when you’re wrong.” The tears finely spill over, and he chastises himself internally for letting it happen at all. “Bloody hell, y/n, you think casual sex is you being a grown-up, just because it’s sex? I know you’re more intelligent than that, and you do too.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” She pulls on her shoes, the rest of her clothes having been hurriedly put on in his lecture. “It’s sex, Harry, not a fucking wedding.” He starts to speak but the slam of the door cuts him off, and he’s left to his own silence. The smell of her perfume wafts back to him, and he falls back into the pillows to let himself come undone, the sobs wracking his body as grief settles over him in a thick cloud.

He wipes the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand as his orgasm takes over him, biology taking the lead despite his estranged state. It was her. Her smile, her laugh, the way he would find strands of her hair all over his apartment as if she belonged here. In his head she did belong here, his y/n, his smart, beautiful, cunning y/n. By the time he cleans himself up he’s shaking his head and sighing, hoping the memories will rattle loose from his skull and make their way out through his ears, or his mouth, or at least something. It would be so much easier if his attraction to her would just disappear, if his dick would stop thinking for itself and let him have a go.

His phone starts to ring again. Jeff’s name lights up the screen and he resists answering it, for fear that the pressure in his chest will rise to his throat and choke him until he blacks out. He swallows thickly and picks it up, swiping his thumb across the screen.

“Hey, Jeff. Yeah, yeah it’s Harry. No, I’m fine. Just caught a cold is all. What’s up?”

#Harry Styles #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst

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chezforshire · 5 years ago

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AU where marceline is the school's local harana for hire she writes quick songs for anyone who wants to have a song sung for anyone for whatever reason they want

It's usually a lot of love songs (she's gotten tired of this really fast) but sometimes she gets requests for songs for friends

Anyway, Lady and Jake help her out with this business by making bouquets and playing along with her respectively. And Bon is usually just someone she bounces ideas with cause Marce may know so many people, but there's still a number of rich prissy losers that Bon knows and that's usually her clients. Also, Bon loves getting to stretch her writing skills.

(Though she's also pretty tired of love songs)

Marce gets a commission one day to make a song for Bon and she just kinda. Stares at it. Her clients aren't anonymous. Well, not usually. A lot of her songs are made from shared memories and the small percent made from flowery words are usually douchelords who are too confident about their place to think they'd need anonymity in case of rejection.

So when she sees that this one didn't have a name she was a little... confused. There was also the fact that Bon is notorious for saying no to everyone who tries to ask her out. And not in a way where friends tell friends this, but more of she said no to a guy who payed the whole school to get in on his grand plan to ask her out

(Even Marce tho it wasn't for a song. It was more of he asked her to drive Bon to school at a specific time. She obviously told Bon this but they didn't have a lot of time to talk about it bc the guy texted everyone their roles literally on midnight and wired the cash after sending the message.

A little worrying how he not only got everyone's number but also everyone's bank account. She and most of her friends changed phones then bc that was creepy as all hell)

She doesn't tell Bon. Not because of some customer confidentiality or whatever but because... Well she doesn't really know. It just made her irrationally irritated and sad. Odd.

She takes far longer than usual to reply to this. She doesn't understand the hesitation. Or maybe she does? Bon has called her a bleeding heart a million times and she guesses thats the reason. She feels bad for them and doesn't want to watch another person who put in effort be rejected. Yeah that's it. She should tell him that. Maybe they were new or something. It'll be fine, plus they didn't want a full song so they werent paying much. Yeah, that sounds like a game plan.

The next day she says yes and wonders all day why she did that

For about a month she keeps this commission to herself. She spaces out more than usual during this time. Not quite disassociating, just staring into space and thinking.

Bon isn't worried bc this is usually how she gets when she's got a song in the works. She needles her about what it is and who it's for, but she generally deflects and at some point just straight up lies and says some random names.

She also learns more about her client. They're not new, they've actually known Bon for about 3 to 5 years. They're pretty close apparently and actually knows Marce personally. Theyve talked several times and have hung out here and there too. (That sure didn't make her anxiety and paranoia skyrocket)

She feels a lot of anxiety and worry and trepidation and god other irrational shit about this commission. She doesn't really tell anyone (something her therapist, or Bon more importanly Bon, would frown at) so she's just left to wallow about it on her own. She tries working on it as much as she can but it just feels... wrong somehow. She doesn't really get it but she feels like she'll lose something because of this. She doesn't get it. She knows they'll be rejected and they'll all laugh at it in the end and just.

What is it. What's wrong.

She feels a tap on her shoulder and she almost falls off her bed. Jake's apparently been trying to talk to her for a solid minute and oh jeez now he's got that Worried Big Brother look.

He peers at her and asks what's wrong and not-so-subtly threatens that he'll stay and use his Big Brother mode on her if she tries to lie to him

She just sighs heavily and curls up

"Someone commissioned a suicide mission"

Jake makes an 'o' with his mouth. Theyve always called anyone who tried to flirt with Bon a suicide mission and laughed pretty hard at it. Even Bon calls the poors souls who try suicide missions.

She uncurls a bit and faces Jake with a small smile, ready to laugh with him about it as she should. But for some reason Jake just... Looks at her with this worried look. Not his patented Im-Worried-For-You-Little-Sibling but more of one would give to a friend when they know something they don't.

Marce laughs, shakey and unsure. "What? S'not like this doesn't happen. It's Bon, ya know? The sweatheart of the school." With a mean streak that rivals the devil, she adds quietly- fondly- in her head.

Jake just nods slowly. He drags his eyes away from her and stares at her wall, eyes unfocused.

Marce starts having a bit of a panic because what is that face, why is Jake acting like this, is there somethin on her wall, wait does he know the client, is he friends with the client, is he the client, w-

Jake flops his short, chunky body on her bed and pulls her to lay down too. Roughly, might she add. And not to mention absolutely unexpected.

He's smiling again, big and all teeth. It twitches for a second when he makes eye contact but bounces back so quick she thinks she might have imagined it.

"Ha! You're gonna write for a suicide mission this is hilarious!" He makes a move to ruffle her hair and she just starts flailing to avoid this. "Man! I haven't seen one in a while so this'll be fun at least. Something else to keep us busy other than those stupid douchefucks who thinks a song is a sure fire way to get laid."

Marce is confused but doesn't question this sudden change. Plus it actually helps? She snickers -because no, she doesnt giggle she is cooler than that- at the thought of watching the client be rejected before Marce can even pull out her guitar.

"Yeah, threw me off like hell cause Bon is practically legendary but hey apparently there are still some brave souls out there."

"Oh dude, I've got a great ass idea," Jake sits up and leans on his elbows, "Let's keep this a secret from princess. Oh and Lady cause you know she cant keep anything from her."

Marce kinda laughs at this in confusion. "Uh what? Why? If you haven't noticed my services include a bouquet and unless you've learned flower language I dont think we can take Lady outta the equation."

He snorts "I may not know flowers, but I know my girlfriend. I can just be vague and she'll take it as a challenge and try to make the perfect bouquet. S'no problem on that front.

"I figured we could keep it a secret so we can see Bon's pure and raw reaction. Like I said, there hasn't been a suicide mission in a looooong while so she probably doesn't expect this. And it'll be way more funny cause someone commissioned you for it. Where it is no secret that a) you do this and b) you get help from the three of us."

"You got a point there detective. Bur fair warning, Bon will be giving us the stink eye for days if we do this. Especially me because she's my thesaurus and metaphor maker. You know how she loves taking credit for making them sound like a stupid romance novel."

"Psh, she loves you to hell and back. She'll just pout at you for a while and when you buy her her favourite candy it'll be right as rain."

Okay, that sounded valid but at the same time Marceline kind of shut down after Jake said Bon loves her so uh she guesses she'll just trust that it'll be fine?

" 'nother idea," Jake says softly. He's looking at he- actually. No he's not looking at her, hes just looking her way but his eyes are just. Not there.

"Uh, shoot"

"Make this song the best you've ever made."

Marceline laughs for a second before she realizes okay wait Jake is serious about that. What. Why the fuck would she do that.

He shrugs and smiles again. Soft and pitying -what why why is Jake acting like this what the fuck- and he gestures around a bit before speaking.

"Well, first off it'll be good practice for you. You've been workin with Bon for about as log as you've been doing this so think of this as a test to see how you are now on your own.

"Second, well ya gotta admit if you pull out a banger and Bon actually likes it it'll be way funnier cause you can sing it and she'll look all annoyed but you can see that her tapping her foot and bobbing her head. It'll be funny for everyone involved.

"And lastly," Jake takes a deep breath before speaking, as if this is one of the toughest things he's done in a while. "Call it a father's intuition."

She stares at him. She- she doesn't know hwo to react to that.

After a second, Jake cracks a soft smile and "Did you get Lady pregnant, you fucking askal" just slips out of her mouth.

Jake laughs loud and boisterous at this and Marce just follows.

Yeah, she might as well make this the best one she's ever made. The client won't get the girl, but at least she can make her like it

#chersonal #adventure time #at hc #bubbline #okay this got longer than i expected #i just spout this shit before i go to sleep so i dont usually know what the fuck im saying #yellow yelling

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imnotcameraready · 5 years ago

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chivalry is dead (18)

A/N: im unsure of what to say for this one, in all honesty! im just so excited for the ball im Vibrating about it — and writing the damsel is. always an experience. :^)

WARNINGS: Remus mention, suggested murder, disassociation (?), self-deprication, self-hatred, suicidal thoughts (small mentions!), being held captive/kidnapping, wound mention — i think that's all, but let me know if there're any others!!!

Words: 3290

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for the longterm warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing!

*taglist was moved down purely bc i aesthetically dont like it up here lmao (also i wish it WORK ED— *

enjoy !!! <3 <3 <3

If this Roman was anything, he was too quiet.

“Damsel, I wanna get us all out,” Virgil hissed, arm slung around the bars to his and the Child’s cell as he tried again to coax a reaction out of the terrified figment, “But I need your help with that.”

The Child was pacing quietly, his feet shuffling around the background noise to Virgil’s voice. The Damsel hadn’t spoken again since he introduced himself and, judging by how Virgil could see his single wide, petrified eye watching him, he wasn’t planning on speaking any more. His hand was grasping his mouth so tight that Virgil could almost believe it was Deceit’s doing, if he wasn’t certain Deceit weren’t here.

Plus, it’d been, like, hours. He was getting tired, his side stung, and he really just wanted to go home. His gut was telling him that the others were going to get him out, but that voice was getting more quiet as time passed.

Virgil was mostly anxious about what the hell was taking so long! They knew where the castle was. Maybe they got caught by some guards?

The Thief was in bad shape last he saw. He might even be dead.

A part of Roman coulda been dead, and Virgil wouldn’t even know, because he was locked in a cell far apart from the others and he had no way to get out and no way to contact them and see if they were okay. And he was locked in here with bits and pieces of Roman that seemed discarded. His own anxieties and insecurities.

He knew Roman wasn’t confident about some things, but damn.

….Maybe he should take a nap or something. He was exhausted.

Fat chance he’d be able to rest in this kinda atmosphere. Virgil really needed a back massage and a hot bath after this quest. It was grinding on the last of his brain cells like…..like….like a grindstone?

Wow, even his internal monologue couldn’t come up with anything. He was useless.

“Hey, hey,” two small hands rested on his head, gently hugging his head, “No, you aren’t. You’re Virgil and you’re great.”

He must have said that aloud, then. Virgil sighed, closing his eyes and reaching around to pat the Child’s leg. “I’m sorry,” he tried to wave it off, downplay what he’d been thinking, but the Child wasn’t letting go.

So Virgil did. He went back to having an arm slung out the slits between the bars, watching the Damsel as he shifted his sitting position, hugging his knees. He began to hum quietly, to the tune of a song that Virgil could recognize was Disney but didn’t quite know the name of. And then he started singing.

“Come on, you poor unfortunate soul~” the Damsel’s voice was barely above a whisper, soft and missable as it had been earlier, “Go ahead, make your choice. I’m a very busy Side and I haven’t got all day~”

A sudden thought struck him, and he sat upright. The Damsel had reacted to the Child wanting water. Maybe…. “Child, hey,” Virgil said, “Have you ever met the Damsel?”

“Yeppers!” the Child said, a smile in his voice, “We hung out at the beginning of all this!”

“So you’re friends?” Virgil asked.

“It won’t cost much~”

The Child shrugged. “I dunno. I hope we are! We’re friends, right, Damsel?”

He sunk down behind Virgil, wrapping around his back like a koala and resting his face in such a way that he could watch the Damsel as well. No response, though.

That WAS still his name, right?

“Just your voice!”

“You wanna go by Damsel, right?” the Child asked, brow furrowed.

His singing stopped.

“Yes,” the Damsel said, voice soft and croaky, “Please.”

“Why’d you pick that name?” the Child asked.

They could see him make a small gesture, as though to say ‘isn’t it obvious?’, but the Child shook his head. The Damsel wasn’t always like this.

He giggled to himself quietly. “It’s a fitting name. I’m no prince, no thief, artist, playwright, I’m not anything. Just in distress. Useless,” he rested his head against the side wall, “Damsel.”

Virgil frowned. “Roman’s not useless. He’s….” c’mon, think, but nothing TOO sappy, “We need him.”

Yeah, that was good.

They could vaguely see the Damsel shake his head. “Fine, helpless. I’m locked in a cage. I’ve BEEN locked in a cage for days.”

He looked up again, at the sky.

“Thanks, Virgil,” his eye flicked over, “But….too bad your big-big admission is dwarfed by your gargantuan failures.”

Virgil’s nose scrunched up, recoiling.

A pit of dread opened in his stomach as he realized Roman was still holding onto that, Virgil had said it a long while ago. Sure, a part of him was exasperated, shouted STILL? But it made sense, didn’t it, for the ego to internalize those sorts of critiques.

He felt the Child let go of him, and Virgil leaned forward against the bars.

“Roman, I didn’t—”

“Sorry,” the Damsel cut him off, voice growing more clear, more stern, “I cannot contr-contribute an ounce of constructive input.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You’re the one who says to not encourage me,” the Damsel leaned forward, growling, “All of you think it. Roman, the dramatic one. The insecure one. The stupid one. We WON’T be stupid after this!”

Virgil leaned back. This was illuminating. And a situation he was not equip to handle in the slightest.

He looked to the side briefly, where the Child sat. His legs were crossed and he was watching the other cell with a focused...worry. He was worried about the Damsel.

Virgil turned back at the sound of scraping. The Damsel had stood up. He shuffled to his bed and fell face first onto it, groaning quietly. Painfully. He was pitiful, sure, and he was part of Roman. Virgil couldn’t just ignore that.

He had to work with him, not against him. He didn’t know how or why the Damsel was still holding onto Virgil’s past words, but he did know that whatever was feeding the insecurities (and he shuddered to think it was himself or any of the others, even Remus) was wrong. And that, like it or not, the Damsel was a part of Roman. A sad part but a part nonetheless. He just had to convince him that they l-word-ed Roman.

He shifted again, sitting cross legged now. “You’re not stupid,” he said, “You can be dumb, but so can all of us. And you’re valued.”

The Damsel scoffed and rolled onto his side, into the fetal position.

“Roman, look at me,” the Damsel full on flinched, curling tighter.

“Don’t call me that. I’m not good enough to be.”

Virgil bit his lip. These identity crises sure were confusing. “But you’re Roman, too. You’re important enough to be a whole part.”

“I know I am, but-but that’s what’s wrong,” the Damsel looked aside. “I shouldn’t be...here. Alive.”

The Child scooted up to sit beside Virgil. “No! I was telling you that earlier!” he stage whispered at the Damsel, full of naive optimism, “You’re important! You’re an important part of Roman!”

“Stop,” the Damsel croaked.

They were finally breaking through, Virgil thought.

Footsteps in the distance shattered that hopeful thought. Virgil waved his hand, indicating for silence, and the two Romans immediately fell quiet. The Damsel sat upright on his bed, then hugged his pillow tight to his chest.

Oh.

The footsteps got louder, heels clacking on the stone floor. The Child tugged on Virgil’s cloak and mouthed ‘Dragon.’

They could hear him talking to no one in particular. Probably the guards, but the guards weren’t sentient, so probably himself. That was pretty Roman of him, right?

He wasn’t Roman, though. The Child knew. He smiled at the Damsel, who ignored him, and looked out between the bars again, head just barely fitting. Yep, there was the Dragon, walking towards them.

“Helloooooooo!” the Dragon’s voice echoed along the hall, “Are my favorite three stooges awake?”

The Damsel rolled his single visible eye so vehemently that Virgil almost laughed. Good to see that the Dragon’s theatrics were looked down upon by all of them.

He sauntered into view, standing between the two cells with his hands behind his back. The Dragon huffed out his nose, smoke expelling from the movement as he winked at Virgil, then barred his teeth at the Child. Neither flinched.

He raised an eyebrow and turned to the Damsel, who flinched upon eye contact. Gotcha. The Dragon stepped closer to the bars, leaning against them as he focused on the Damsel.

“Awh, why the long face, Captain Incapacitated,” the Dragon dragged his fingers along the crossbar, grinning wider when the Damsel flinched.

“Leave him alone,” Virgil hissed.

The Dragon turned back to him, still leaning on the other wall’s bars, and stuck his tongue out at Virgil. It had a pointed tip, much more like a dragon’s than a human’s. He withdrew, looking at Virgil and the Child sitting on the ground, and leaned his head against a bar. His emo nightmare was certainly a dream.

“I wish I could let you out for the ball tonight,” the Dragon sighed, a small smile on his face, “Wouldn’t it be lovely to dance?”

Virgil scowled. Dancing with the Dragon was the last thing he wanted to do, thanks. But another word caught his attention. “Ball?”

“Oh, yes!” the Dragon clapped happily as he spoke, “Why else would we need the Child here?”

The Child frowned and mouthed the word ‘we’ to himself as the Damsel met Virgil’s eyes for a second. ‘We.’

“He’s bait,” the Damsel mumbled, looking down at the Dragon’s cape.

“Genius, isn’t it! I mean, look at that worthless, pudgy, snot-nosed face! Any of the others would die protecting him,” the Dragon laughed.

The Damsel turned away.

“We,” the Child squeaked out.

“We indeed,” the Dragon looped his arm through the bars and hugged the Damsel around the neck, ignoring how he flinched and shook, “The Damned-sel here has been so lovely, helping me plan everything.”

No. No way. Virgil and the Child watched the Damsel, who ducked his head and focused intently on the Dragon’s cape, swaying as he spoke. He was explaining his elaborate evil plan.

But, honestly, the Child was furious. He’d trusted the Damsel. Maybe he was right. Maybe he WAS just the Damsel now. He was a no-good sad distressed Damsel who should stay in this little cage and rot and then turn into fertilizer for some flowers!

“Oh, it’s going to be fantastic! Every inhabitant of the Imagination was invited! It’s our annual Creativity ball, you know the one,” the Dragon waved his hand dismissively at the Child, who frowned, “The other Sides were all invited too! Oh, they’re going to look so dashing — the Playwright and the Artist will probably end up dressing them, and they’re going to look magnificent, delectable!”

He clapped in happiness. “And then I’ll get to dance with them! And kiss them! And then, since the others will be here, too, I’ll get them all in once place….to slaughter!”

The Dragon laughed, a high pitched cackle with his hands over his chest.

Everyone else just watched.

Virgil was actually growing angry. The Damsel was working with this clown? And he thought the other Sides would like HIM? Maybe he was wrong, Roman was an idiot.

“....You’re such a stereotype, Maleficent,” the Damsel said, stepping away from the bars again, only for the Dragon to grab his arm.

He wagged his finger at the Damsel and pulled him a little closer, gesturing to the other cell. His mouth was half open when the Child cut him off.

“How’re you going to get everyone?” he asked, loud.

“I, uh, what?” the Dragon turned to the Child, blinking in confusion, “I don’t know, I haven’t thought that far.”

He looked at the Damsel, who seemed equally as confused, but who managed to regain his composure faster.

The Damsel turned away from all of them, head bobbing back and forth slightly as he considered.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “They are going to come. They will probably try to search for us.”

Was….was he scheming? Just right in front of them. Virgil could feel his anger festering, subsiding into resentment. Of course. The Dragon couldn’t have concocted thorough plans on his own. Of course.

To be honest, though, he’d thought his partner was Remus. Not….

“They won’t know their way around the castle, but it’s not hard to assume they’ve gotta go down. They’ll find us,” the Damsel glanced at Virgil and the Child, who were both watching him with equally betrayed glares, “You-You could...I dunno. Something. Then.”

The Dragon grinned. “Wonderful! I’ll start setting something up in the dungeons — we can talk more about the specifics when you’re getting your dress fitted.”

They all now turned to the Dragon with confusion. The Damsel spluttered a little, pointing to himself with his shaky right hand, and asked “MY dress?”

“Of COURSE your dress, you’re coming to the ball tonight!” the Dragon kissed his cheek, ignoring how the Damsel jerked away, “We can’t have a ball without a prince, and you’re close enough!”

The Damsel was paling so much, one would have thought his wounds had reopened. He looked at Virgil and the Child with a confused frown, then back at the Dragon. “Why? That’s...That wasn’t in the plan.”

“Oh, I know, but I thought the plan could use a little editing. Remus suggested—”

Ah, there it was. Speak of the devil.

The Damsel cast the Dragon a look of despair and disappointment. At least the dislike of Remus ran pretty thoroughly through him.

“You’re still listening Remus?” the Damsel’s voice grew, “We’re still taking pointers from the Duke of Trashville? From Oscar the gross? You’re ridiculous.”

“Hey, hey, you did agree that THIS,” the Dragon pointed to himself, then to the Damsel, then to the Child, before continuing, “Was a decent idea. Besides, I prefer his creations. He’s so much better at it than us.”

Record scratch? Virgil shot the Dragon a glare infused with as much confusion as it could be, because what the heck? “Uh, no, of course he’s not? What’re you even thinking?”

“Well,” Virgil whipped around to the Damsel, who had deflated faster than a mutilated balloon, “He-he’s still….he’s good at making ideas.”

“So are YOU!” Virgil wrung his hands, then grabbed the bars to his cell, gripping them tight enough to whiten his own knuckles.

When they’d first entered the Imagination, Virgil forgot that it was, to some extent, also inhabited by the Duke. Where even was that wild card?

“Where is he?” he asked, “You’ve gotta have him close if he’s got input on this.”

The Dragon waved his hand flippantly, then inspected his nails. His hands were gloved, sure, but if Deceit could do it then so could he. “Oh, he’s just upstairs! I don’t let him out much, having his energy just roaming around would be too much of a wild card for our little game.”

The Damsel raised a hand, eye flicking back to the Dragon every so often. “Locked up. Chained, right? Or at least trying to?”

Trying to? Virgil and the Child shared a confused look before turning back to the other pair. “Trying to?” the Child asked.

“Well,” the Dragon shrugged, “He keeps eating the chains.”

Virgil was confused, but the Child just nodded with a soft “ah,” as though that were to be expected. Which, granted, now that Virgil thought about the Duke, a train of thought he actively avoided boarding, the more he realized that yeah that’s some shit Remus would pull.

“I just visit him every so often, and that keeps him put,” the Dragon shrugged, then clapped, “He does like an audience, as do we! And now we need an audience with you, Kingdom Heart-ache. The show’s about to start!”

The Damsel raised a hand, terror streaking across his face in a moment.

It was hard to not feel bad for the guy. Sure, he might be working with the Dragon, just to an extent, but it seemed out of necessity. Out of some kinda backwards self-validation of deep insecurities.

Virgil was super not equip to deal with that, but he also knew he couldn’t just leave the Damsel alone.

“I’m not going,” the Damsel said, hands balling at his sides, “I….”

His eyes widened. Slowly, he became more….transparent? Virgil squinted. The Dragon too glowed a little, the both of them turning see-through and glowing red and gold.

He turned to the Child and saw him frozen as well, small hands holding the bars to their cell, body glowing.

What the hell was this? Why did all the Romans keep freezing up like this, was something happening in the Imagination? His throat clenched in fear.

Oh my God, was Remus hurting them? Virgil swore quietly. Was THOMAS hurting them? Was he trying to summon Roman too forcefully? What was going on?

They didn’t look in pain, but Virgil didn’t know what happened when a Side disappeared, maybe THAT’S what happened! And he didn’t know what happened when Roman split up like this — maybe THAT happened?

They all solidified again, and the Damsel shot back into his cell, hoarsely screaming incoherently loud enough for Virgil to jump.

The Dragon laughed, a light glowing in his eyes, and the Child sank against the ground, giggling into his hands, happy as a clam.

The Damsel curled up in the corner and hugged himself, body trembling.

Quite the reactions. Virgil stepped closer to the bars again, hands holding the cross bar. “What just happened?” he asked.

The Dragon turned to him, glowing embers in his eyes alight with joy.

He didn’t answer. Rather, he turned to the Damsel’s cell and snapped off the lock, striding in with one large step. He bent down and grabbed the Damsel’s wrist, then arm, then threw him over his shoulder like a sack. The Damsel stiffened, trembling still, and Virgil had no idea what had excited the Child and the Dragon but left the Damsel a petrified mess. He didn’t even argue as the Dragon trotted out of his cell still holding him. He didn’t look up when Virgil called his name.

The two left down the hall, the Dragon whistling a tune as his cape swept along his back.

What the hell. Virgil sank down to his knees, watching the empty end of the hall. “What was that?” he asked, turning slowly to the Child.

Who was still beaming. He sat next to Virgil and leaned closer, hugging him tight. “Patton kissed, uh, um, Bard!” he said, “Patton said he loves us!”

Oh. Virgil hugged the Child. Patton...was in love with Roman. Okay. So that was why he was a little out of it while they were in here, that’s fine. He didn’t even feel the theoretical pain that should be coming from the wound in his side. He was a little….numb.

Patton and Roman. That was fine!

It was fine.

Virgil ignored the yearning that yanked at his heart, didn’t dwell on the tears that pricked the edges of his eyes. That was fine.

“We’re gonna be Roman again,” the Child said against Virgil’s arm, “I know it.”

For the first time in this entire escapade, Virgil found that a part of him didn’t want that. A small, miniscule part, wanted one of the different figments of Roman to trapeze into the cell and sweep him off his feet. Wanted to be able to love Roman.

He wished he weren’t so afraid of it.

TAGS!

chivalry au: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake (i think you asked me to tag @devil-towne too?? im gonna fight tumblr’s tagging system) @k9cat @patromlogil @theobsessor1 @ninja-wizard101 @fandomsofrandom

general: @jemthebookworm @okay-finne

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dodstoldpackage · 5 years ago

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Sorry if this has been asked already, but how did you figure out you were a system? I'm still questioning myself and I'm unsure how to tell

Well, everyone else sort of just knew, even when we weren’t sure of the words to describe it. My (host’s) rediscovery was by talking somethings out with a good kin and sys friend of mine who understood better than I what was going on. At the time, Nixe could still push me out of front when they were upset or angry bc of a conversation or disagreement and would do so. I didn’t really know what was going on, but my friend told me all the things he thought it could be. Obviously I wasn’t like “oh my friend says I might just have some disassociation so that’s what it must be!” We talked some more about it and how when this disassociation happened, I always felt like anything I typed to someone didn’t feel like me and my friend was like “it’s always possible you could be part of a system.” With that I asked my pendulum a bit on the matter (it’s a spiritual pendulum, not one where the answers come from me) and I opened myself up to the idea. Eventually I could start interacting with everyone again and our innerworld.

Obviously, everyone’s discovery is different. Where mine might not feel similar to your situation at all, other people’s might. Or they might not. Who knows. For us, it just sort of made sense because of stuff that happened in past lives. If you think there might be some signs there, pointing to you being apart of a system, maybe find some systems you trust and talk that out with them. Explain what your experiencing and feeling. They can’t tell you if you are or aren’t but they can probably help to guide you.

#ask #anon ask #anon #tom #tom speaks #alucard #alucard speaks #host #host speaks #cruxen #cruxen speaks #🎧

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danyka-fendyr · 5 years ago

Text

Remind Me: Part 9

Okay, so I know I went on like a 2-week hiatus, but...I’M BACK! AND THIS TIME, I HAVE A DEGREE BABYYYYY!!!! That’s right, I have my associate’s now (and also my high school diploma bc my state lets me get them both at the same time. Basically my Junior and Senior year of high school I took full-time college classes instead of high school classes). So what I’m saying here is that you’re officially reading the work of a college graduate now. I may still be working on my bachelor’s, but you can count on some quality writing from me. I’m pretty sure you all know this by now, but I’m big on crediting the work of authors I’m inspired by. With that said, I’d like to credit the lovely, the beautiful, the astonishingly talented, kind and generous, @dreamwritesimagines. Cue the applause for her.

(A brief trigger warning for anxiety/panic attack, some disassociating, an abusive relationship and just generally disturbing themes in this chapter)

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli @binbons-is-theloml

Wordcount: 3124

Chapter Nine: “But I didn’t understand then. That I could hurt somebody so badly she would never recover. That a person can, just by living, damage another human being beyond repair.” -Haruki Murakami

Your dream is confusing. It’s long and detailed, and sometimes things stick out to you when it seems like there is no reason for them to. Not whole people or whole parties or whole places, but the smell of a perfume, the wrinkles in a hand, the glimmer of fresh paint. It’s a bunch of scattered pieces throwing themselves together.

There is only one person that sticks out. Only one. Fragments become pieces and pieces become pictures and the slow curve of a smile and sparkling brown eyes turns into popsicles on the pier and your very first kiss and the first time you ever knew, with devastating, soul-crushing implications, that you were in love.

But that fades away too until it is just one memory. One night, on repeat. Text messages no one got in time, mermaids and mimosas and money. On this constant, glitching loop. Sometimes your brain jumped, but it didn’t jump to skip the most horrifying bits. It jumped to stick a magnifying glass over them, to put them in their own separate loop before it broke and the night began again. And over it all, the screaming. The most horrifying screaming, and it wouldn’t stop.

You don’t think you’ll ever wake up, but eventually, someone shakes you awake. You flinched away from the hands, flinched away from anyone touching you. You might have fallen asleep feeling safe, but you didn’t feel safe now. You did not feel safe, and the screaming was still there. It wouldn’t stop. No matter what you did, it wouldn’t stop, even when you realized you flinched so hard you fell off the bed, even when you reached for your ears to cover them with your hands to try to shut out the sound.

“Skittles, Skittles, Skits.”

Billy’s voice was frantic, but you couldn’t hear it properly over the screaming. The crying, too. Whoever was screaming was also crying.

“Skittles, please. I need you to stop screaming so you can tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

Oh. It’s you screaming. That’s strange.

In fact, what was really strange was that you didn’t feel like you. You felt like someone else, but someone else who didn’t exist. You weren’t you. You weren’t anyone. You were just that feeling of emptiness starting to fill up your chest, starting to replace the pain.

You stopped screaming, and your sobs quieted.

Billy was on his knees in front of you, you noticed dully, and he seemed hesitant to touch you. Good. The one thing you still knew was that you didn’t want anyone to touch you ever again.

“Skittles?”

It was a question, soft and hesitant. You didn’t answer it.

“Skittles, baby, please.” His voice cracked, and so did that carefully constructed nothingness inside of you. You blink at him.

“Can I touch you?”

You shook your head. The heel of your palm was pressing into the cream colored carpets, and you thought about how impractical it was to have white carpets because that was a nice thought to have. That was a safe thought to have.

“Okay. Can you tell me what happened?” He was treating you like a wounded animal.

“I had a nightmare.” Your voice sounded hoarse and low, and your eyes didn’t stop staring at a spot on your wall that’s darkened from some old stain.

“About?”

“I remembered. Everything.” You picked at the carpet with your fingers, pulling at it uselessly. You didn’t sound right. “Mostly that night though. A lot. Over and-”

You stopped yourself because that hurt and now your voice sounded less right than before.

There was a silence like Billy didn’t know what to say about that. Then you realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say. It was that he couldn’t say anything because he was crying. Very softly, tears were dripping down his face and his breath was coming out a little jagged and uneven.

You watched him for a long moment. Watched and felt nothing as the tears slipped down his face, but you wanted to feel something. You wanted to now because maybe it wouldn’t be anger or pain or fear. So you thought about the moment you first realized you were in love with him. Just one kiss on the forehead and you were gone. You realized what it was, the way you wanted Billy all to yourself, and the way you would do anything for him, and the way he was yours, and then you realized you loved him, and he loved girls who were much older and more experienced and cooler. So you had never pursued it, until...

You didn’t think about it before you reached out and wiped away one of his tears. You kissed away the matching one on his other cheek, because you could because he was yours and no one could take that away. No one could take Billy away from you, not if they tried.

“I love you,” you whispered.

That didn’t hurt. The way you loved him, even though it should, didn’t hurt. Not right now.

“I’m so sorry, Skittles. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.” His voice cracked again, and he sounded like a broken man.

“It wasn’t your fault.” The shift into his arms is natural, your body fitting there like it was made to, your ear pressed against his heart as you let some of his warmth fill up that empty space inside of you.

“I should have been there. I could have...I could have done something. Anything. I would have...I would have done anything.”

“I know.” You closed your eyes and realized that you had started crying again.

“I’m going to kill him,” Billy whispered.

That startled you. Not that he would kill Aldrich. Remembering everything like you had, that part seemed pretty in character for him. But the anger in his voice...You could only remember hearing him like this once before.

You were trying to put on your foundation, but you kept wincing, which was causing some serious wrinkles. Plus, it was full coverage but not full coverage enough for this. The bruise on your face was...Well, Jason hadn’t hit you gently, let’s just put it that way.

Billy, however, could never know that. He hadn’t meant to do it, anyway. You just made him mad. You always made him so mad. You were stupid to keep doing it.

You had already covered it in concealer, using the stuff like foundation even though it hurt like swear words your mother would never let you use. Now you were going over that with foundation and praying that another layer of concealer would have you looking good as new. The bruise around your mouth you could cover with lipstick, and provided you didn’t wear anything too revealing, you should be good to go. Or you would have been if Billy hadn’t walked into the room at that exact moment.

“Ready to go Skits?” He called, closing your bedroom door behind him.

“Ummm...yeah. Just give me a couple of minutes to finish doing my makeup.”

It was a mistake to tell him you were doing your makeup. He always liked to watch you, critique you like he knew what he was talking about while he made up words for all of the stuff he didn’t know. Which was most of it. He probably would have done more accurate commentary on a Quidditch game than on your makeup.

When you heard his footsteps heading towards the bathroom you tried to speed it up, abandoning the foundation and lunging for your moody purple lipstick, but you weren’t fast enough.

“And how long will the princess take toda-”

Billy stopped dead in the middle of his sentence and you just stood there like a deer caught in the headlights. You bit your lip nervously, in some last ditch effort to hide it or to come up with a plausible excuse as to why it was swollen and purple. Billy just stared at you for a long moment.

“What happened?”

You couldn’t look at him. You had expected him to sound angry, but instead he sounded...soft. Gentle. You had forgotten what that was like. To have someone who loved you not always be so angry with you. To have them want nothing from you except for you to be happy. Safe.

“Nothing,” you blurted out, staring at your sneakers.

“Skittles...” Billy sounded like it genuinely hurt him that you didn’t trust him enough to tell him. He reached out to grab your arm, making you look at him. “Please. Tell me what happened. Is it someone at that fancy boarding school of yours? But I swear if those rich bi-”

“No, Bill,” You interrupted. “I just...I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I’m totally fine. I’ll just finish up my makeup and then we can go.”

“You’re protecting them.” He stared at you like you had grown another head. “You’re protecting whatever piece of scum did this to you.”

“Bill, please-”

“Holy-” A look of realization dawned on his face. “It’s Jason, isn’t it?”

You didn’t say anything. Just went back to staring at your shoes. Up till now, Billy had been pretending not to know his name.

“It is.” There was a pause. “How...how long?”

You couldn’t answer that. You were too busy trying not to cry. You were fine. This happened all the time, and you were fine, and you would just do better not to make him angry. It would be fine.

“Skittles, please. Let me help you. This shouldn’t be happening. You know this shouldn’t be happening.”

Finally, you find the strength to look up at him.

“A month,” You managed to get out, tears rising to your eyes. “I made him angry, and I thought it would just be the one time, but it feels like nothing I do is right, Bill. Every little thing makes him angry now, and he keeps swearing that he’ll make it up to me, and he always does, but...but then he just goes right back to being angry, and I don’t know what to do.”

You were truly crying now, feeling helpless. This was all your fault.

Billy grabbed your face between his hands with more ferocity than you had expected, nearly making you flinch. Except this was Billy, and you had never been afraid of him. You weren’t sure you physically could be. Somebody would have to break something deep down inside of you to make you flinch away from Billy.

“You listen to me, Skittles, and you listen hard. This is not your fault. None of it is. This is on him. He’s just some two-bit piece of crap no better than the gum on the bottom of my shoe, and he never deserved you to begin with, and I don’t know what made him think he could ever lay a hand on you but he’s about to find out what the wrath of Billy Russo tastes like and he’s not gonna like it. No one will ever, ever have any good reason to hurt you. You understand that?”

He didn’t say anything, and you realized he was waiting. Waiting for you to say that yes, you understood. And you thought you did. Because you realized that Billy would have never done this to you. Would have never, ever laid a hand on you, even if someone had threatened him, even if they’d told him they’d kill him. He’d die before he left a mark on you.

“Yes,” You said. “Yes, I understand.”

So gentle you almost didn’t feel it, he kissed your forehead, and something flipped in your stomach and raced up your spine.

“Don’t hurt him Billy, please? I just...I just want to forget about all of this. I don’t want to see him anymore.”

He thought about it for a minute, and you could see the anger burning in his eyes.

“Okay.” He let go of your face, stepping back. “Listen, Skittles, I forgot that I have a date with Stephanie tonight. I would call and cancel, but I did that to her last time. I promise I won’t be gone long though. I’ll try to make this really quick, and then I’ll be right back here with you, alright? And we can watch Dirty Dancing and eat ice cream.”

“Okay.” You tried not to let the disappointment he was leaving show on your face.

As he was headed out the door, you could swear you heard him mumble, “I’m going to kill him.”

It was probably nothing.

“You can’t.” Now you felt it. The fear, the panic, spiking through you. “He’ll hurt you Billy. You can’t go after him.”

“I can, and I will. Don’t worry about me getting hurt, baby. I can take care of myself. You know that.”

“You don’t understand, Billy. He’s powerful. He’s so powerful. You were right, it was stupid of me to go after him the other night with that half-cocked plan. You’re the only reason I’m still alive, probably. Gosh, Bill, you can’t go after him. Promise me you won’t go after him.”

“I can’t promise you that.”

“Billy, please.” You twisted in his arms, looking up at him, trying to make him see how desperate you really were to stop him from doing this.

Warm brown eyes leveled with you. “Nobody gets to hurt you. Nobody has that right.”

“But what about you? What if you get hurt?”

His answer was immediate. “It doesn’t matter.”

That wiped all the fear out of you and replaced it with a raging wildfire of anger, and you grabbed his face in your hands and forced him to look at you, to see every emotion on your face.

“You’d better damn well believe that it does matter, Billy Russo. You don’t get to just throw your life out on the line every time I shed a tear, you understand that? You’re more important than any of that. Anything that could happen to me, you come first. Do you understand that?”

He didn’t say anything, but you waited. You could be patient. Eventually, he told you what you wanted to hear.

“Yes.”

You leaned your forehead against his, sighing. “Everyone else is expendable. But not us, Bill. Never us.”

He pulled you in, kissing you slowly.

“I can’t just let him walk away, babe. Not after what he did to you.”

“I know.” Some part of you had always known that even when you had the amnesia. “But if we’re going to do this, we do it together, alright? And we’re careful. You can’t get hurt. I don’t want to see that, you got me?”

“I’ve always got you.”

He grinned, arrogant as ever, before giving you a leisurely kiss. It was almost enough to distract you. Almost.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” You demanded when he’s finished kissing you.

His thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face.

“I promise,” he said.

“Then it’s a deal.”

“Seal it with a kiss?”

You smile, reaching behind you to grab a pillow off the bed and lob it at his face. “Nice try Russo.”

“I thought it was pretty good.”

“Why are we still on the floor?” You looked around you, frowning.

“I have no idea. I much prefer having you in bed.”

You rolled your eyes at him. You knew he was only saying it to distract you, to make you laugh, but that didn’t stop it from drawing a smile out of you. Billy scooped you up off the floor, picking you up and setting you back down in bed.

“What time is it?” You asked.

“4 in the morning,” He said, checking his phone for the time.

You groaned, rolling into his open arm when he extended it to you from the other side of the bed.

“So what’s the plan,” You asked, snuggling into him.

“You expect me to have a plan already? It’s been five minutes Skits.” He chuckled, but you didn’t say anything.

“Well, the marriage thing didn’t really work out so well for you. Largely because there was an incredibly handsome man constantly distracting you from the limp noodle that was your fiance, and with a dashing hero like that making you drool over him all the time, how could poor Carton Kool-Aid ever stand a chance?”

You shoved him lightly, snorting. “Now you’re not even trying to be subtle.”

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you would think I would forget the name of your worst mistake? Or your worst almost mistake, as it were.”

“Carter was nice,” you defended. “Just...not the right guy for me. Probably had something to do with that dashing hero guy.”

“Probably.” Billy looked incredibly smug.

“Man, what I wouldn’t give to be in bed with Matt right now.”

Billy choked on his own spit. You laughed so hard you were pretty sure it counted as a full ab workout, rolling around on the bed.

“What? Who else would I think of when you say ‘dashing hero’? I’m surprised you didn’t guess I’ve been fantasizing about him this whole time. You know me so well, Billy.” You were still laughing a little bit.

“You,” he said, “are a smart-Alec who should not be allowed to torture nice goodie two-shoes like Murdock.”

“Mmm, you’re probably right. Guess I’m stuck with you.”

“You’d better bet on it.”

“So anyway, you were talking about my failed marriage,” you said.

“Failed engagement,” he corrected. “And yeah. That didn’t work, but the idea was good. Get into his inner circle. But what if I could do that through a business deal? I could make nice with all his friends, then get in real close with him, then suddenly Alrdich drops off the map because you’re doing whatever your heart pleases with him.”

You thought about it. It...wasn’t a bad plan. Not a bad plan at all, really. And it should keep Billy fairly safe. Safer than going in guns blazing, anyway.

“What if he’s heard of you? What if he knows we’re close?”

“Burn that bridge when we get there, sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes, resting your head on his chest. “Can we talk about this more in the morning? I’m tired.”

Billy knew you didn’t just mean that you were sleepy. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

“Yeah. You know I’d do anything for you, right?” You knew what he really meant, but you would never let him put himself in harm's way for you.

“Everyone else, Bill. Everyone but us.”

“Everyone but us.”

#dreamwritesimagines #once a year #once a year fic #remind me #remind me fic #fanfic #imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo series #billy russo imagine #billy russo au #punisher #punisher au #punisher fic #mcu

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loghainmactir · 5 years ago

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y’all want a Story bc here’s what happened today (i’ll add this in a more cohesive post when i start up donations/commissions but here’s my current muddled thoughts:)

[[MORE]]

basically my sister came over to stay the night, somehow the topic of the sexual assault at the top concert we went to came up and she misunderstood nan’s (frankly, kinda flippant) reaction of “oh.” while trying to get food out of her teeth and leaving

of course, cam got triggered by that, bolted and hid in my room. nan got really mad really quick for being misunderstood & for cam freaking out. i came into the scenario not knowing what was going on, tried to figure it out and potentially de-escalate (saying we’d all take a moment to calm down, avoid eachother until we’re all ready to chat)

but either a) my de-escalation tactics are bad and i haven’t learnt anything in the last 9 months or b) my grandmother is totally immune to them and is just a pillar of fury and aggression because i go out to hang out the washing and she’s calmed down but she’s still PISSED.

i try to explain to her why cam was upset and while i acknowledged that she was misunderstood, it’s absolutely never ok to invalidate someone’s trauma regardless of how little you know about it. i tried explaining to her that the best thing to do would be to acknowledge that she made a mistake that triggered someone’s feelings (and that that’ll happen, and that it’s ok as long as you learn from it).

i’m terrified of her and rarely look her in the eye but i do this time. and i tell her all of this: that recovery from trauma is different for everyone. that sometimes folks can’t recover, or won’t recover, that even if my sister’s trauma seemed small, it’s still hard and it’s hard to hear BUT that doesn’t mean you can be dismissive of it. even accidentally.

but nope ! she’s pissed because no one takes her advice wrt mental illness (... despite never having gone to a psychologist/iatrist before for her own issues, mind u), and cam’s clearly putting on a performance and she NEEDS to fo to hospital and it doesn’t matter if your trauma and recovery is the same as hers or you’re coping well with it, she doesn’t have time for bullshit because it’s HER house and SHE pays the bills and mental illness is ILLEGAL in her house.

she starts ranting and yelling about how i don’t know anything about her when i question her tolerance for mental health, and starts saying that her whole life has revolved around standing up for other people. ok, i say, but you’re still not terribly tolerant of anyone who’s not yourself or my uncle, you’ve criticised and shot down myself, my mum, and now cam and you think it’s not important to care for other folks.

i honestly can’t remember 60% of what she said after that because at that point i was disassociating hard. she’s yelling and she’s mad and my heart is racing. and then i realize that this conversation is going nowhere. it isn’t. If i’d let it go on, it was going to repeat and repeat until i’ve explained that trauma and coping isn’t the same for everyone about a billion times. and i’m kinda mad. she’s done nothing but insult cameron as if her being triggered is some personal attack on her.

and so she says “i DON’T have to put up with this shit! not in MY house!” or something like that and i say “you’re absolutely right. and i don’t owe you this conversation.” and i tell her that she can expect me to move out within 3-6 months.

and i tried speaking to her in an even, calm tone: she tried to say i was talking down to her when i was trying to explain (and maybe it did come off as condescending. i don’t know). she kept trying to say i thought she was stupid and i don’t, but there’s a clear lack of understanding about mental health and how it works and i was trying to inform to try and make sure we tried to rectify the situation.

but that’s the point, i guess. she didn’t want to make it better and she was never going to acknowledge her mistake or god forbid apologize. she’s right, always right, and she needs to control the situation and cannot bring herself to be wrong or apologize. i think that’s why it made her madder— me sticking up for my sister, me being borderline immovable til the end. because she couldn’t yell over top of me and terrify me into submission.

i’m fucking tired.

#personal #long post #abuse tw #anyway: hopefully this goes under the read more i’m sorry if it’s not #i messaged my teacher and she’s going to call tomorrow and i’m gonna discuss options if she knows any #i can’t leave without my mum and my dog though

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writez · 3 years ago

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sometimes i really doubt my own emotions. it's so easy to disregard or forget how you feel or felt when you're being manipulated. my mom has been emotionally manipulative and abusive my whole life. she's a compulsive liar and uses her mental illness as a weapon.

i didn't realize all of these things until i was 16, and i finally brought myself to tell my friends how i felt so miserable and guilty being around her sometimes, how she would make me feel bad for feeling anything, for doing anything, for asking for help. they told me it wasn't normal and it wasn't okay. i hadn't started opening up to anyone about my mom until i was 15 and admitted that she had struggled with depression my whole life and said she was bipolar. I didnt say much more than that bc my mom for rhe longest time had told me if i told anyone about her or about our house/home life we(my sister and i) would be taken away. she didn't work for 11 years and was at home with me and my sister or if she had a meltdown she'd storm out of the house and go to my grandma's for a few days. still even though she was at home all the time she found ways to neglect us. my dad is at fault too obviously, after he lost his job our family just became utterly dysfunctional. it started falling apart after my mom broke her ankle. things became more difficult. my dad didn't know how to deal with my mom's depression. he wasn't supportive and my mom was going through something she didn't know how to handle. she wouldn't get help, either.

writing this kind of makes me want to cry because now im feeling bad for my mom, like i always end up doing. but i have to remind myself that there is no excuse for what she did to us or how she treated us. i felt like the worst person in the world all the time. i had her telling me she was sad because we weren't doing enough when i was only 10 years old, maybe younger i have no real age timeline. im going off vague memories and just knowing idk. there are things that stick with you and things that don't ig. i know she was in a lot of pain back then, she hadn't dealt with something like that before. ig she hadn't dealt with the emotions maybe and didn't know how to let it out or idk. idk how to justify it bc ig i can't.

screaming. getting screamed at really scares me now. i don't get screamed at often anymore, sometimes by customers at work. for a long time i only thought i got freaked out if i was getting yelled at directly until one time at work i came in and our morning manager had a rough day, he was really stressed. i get it. he got mad when orders popped up and screamed "god ducking damnit" loudly and threw something. all i thought was "oh god what did i do?"

it sounded just like my mom, something she would have screamed at me. i just instantly started disassociating. the manager kept freaking out. he kicked over a trashcan and screamed some more. i couldn't see straight or really think i was scared. i felt like a child again, so afraid and angry at the same time. luckily my best friend worked with me at the time and he saw i was upset and also went to comfort the manager. he kept him away from me so i could have space and keep myself together. after the manager calmed down he came back in.

he didn't know he did anything that wrong, i mean he knew it was wrong for him to yell like that but he didn't know how it would affect me. it's not his fault. he tried to talk to me but i just couldn't answer. I had to keep it together because it was my shift and I had other employees around me and i didn't want them to know i was about to have a total melt down. he tried to apologize and j just said "it's okay. sorry I just can't right now" i was shaking and i was trying so hard not to cry, meanwhile cutting pizzas and cashing customers out. picking up phones. answering questions talking to drivers while completely freaking out. but i kept it all under wraps or at least i think i mostly did i just got real quiet. my best friend knew something was wrong and j said "i just had a ... response. it's not his fault.. he didn't know"

later when we talked about it i finally said "I think i had a trauma response" and i did. it brought me back to being a kid and getting screamed at for nothing. by her. i just hate admitting it sometimes. i hate that i am forever affected by her. i hate it. i have to be forever reminded of what she did while she gets to remain ignorant. she knows she did something wrong and she's apologized for it but she doesn't even know what she's apologizing for?

God it is so hard to write this. i want to cry because I'm mad, because im heartbroken. because i have to remember. because I've lost so many memories. i lost my childhood to her. im never getting that back. there's no going back in time to when things were normal. im lost now i don't know where im going with this my brain kinda hurts. i had a reason for writing this first but i lost it. i think i need to take a break. i can't seee straight

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sidncymiller · 7 years ago

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ayyyyyy friends it’s ya boi back at it again with another caustic, indifferent fuck ( ive got a type sue me ) but this ones like... a little less (ง'̀-'́)ง and a little more ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ya feel ?? anyway this is gonna be quick & dirty cause i dont have the bio done yet but theres some basic stats here if ur freaky like that. also she’s more into like.... people as a whole than mal is so ( as much as i love fighting everyone ) i’d love to make some connections w the charas he doesnt interact with or is a cock to !! lol ok i’ll catch y’all under the cut pce out

she’ll answer to sidney but prefers sid (or miller if you’re one of those)

demigirl, she/her pronouns and “girl” as a descriptor are fine, but for the love of god don’t call her a Woman it makes her skin crawl

pansexual but mostly a big tease who cant Seal the Deal, possibly on the ace spectrum somewhere or maybe she just watches too much porn who knows these days

as you may have inferred from her multitude of maybe-kinda-sorta labels she is a Child Of The Internet

bad case of blue and orange morality, thanks to being born and raised right here in sunny fictumterra!! she values privacy, loyalty and free will pretty high, human life and welfare pretty low, like a good fictumterran (fictumite?)

then again she does get pretty bummed out if someone new comes to town and she Digs them and then they get turned into a lamp or hot dog or whatever,,,, weak,,,,

uh she was into gymnastics as a kid and joined the cheer squad in hs just because it seemed like exactly the thing she Wouldnt do and she’s a big ‘ol contrarian

unfortunately!!! she went partially blind in her right eye when she was sixteen and her parents poisoned her and all that time spent practicing balance and spatial aawreness and shit went right out the fckn window THANKS MOM

ok backtracking a litte

her parents were members of a pro-gun, anti-government cult before she was born and got caught up in a teensy little federal building bombing and had to hightail it to FT when one of their compatriots ( fckn coward ) flipped on the group, under the advisement of their Supreme Leader

lets call him Shmavid Shmoresh

he told them to await further instructions, so they set up shop in FT and waited. since they were natural born sheeple, they acclimated to the way of life pretty quickly, and when sid was born she was brought up under the town’s value system, and now im repeating myself

ANYWAY they didn’t hear from the group until sixteen years later when Shmavid was about to be executed and announced that it was time for everyone to Ascend or whatever

so, good followers they were, they made their evening tea and laced it w rat poison and waited for the sweet chariot to swing low

unfortunately they fucked up on sid’s dosage and she survived, though, as mentioned, the poison did fuck with her cortical vision, as well as giving her an exceptionally sensitive stomach

basically she can’t eat too much or anything too rich or spicy bc her stomach linings all fucked, lots of broths and and rice and stuff, everything else comes back up, ya girl got v skinny and has mixed feelings bout that

uhhhh shes like constantly eating sugar tho, usually bubble gum, sometimes suckers or slushies. shes not supposed to but it doesnt make her puke and if she doesn’t see an immediate consequence she doesnt care ALSO she doesnt appreciate your oral fixation jokes i mean youre probably right but get some new material ok

also she still drives??? she refuses to accept that shes blind (ish, too blind to drive, ever heard of anton-babinski syndrome?) and regularly scratches or dents other peoples cars and leaves a note that says like ‘oops’ on their windshield or whatever, she loves driving you cant take it from her get fucked

her own car is a pinto thats so dinged up its basically round at this point

when her parents died there was some contention as to where she was gonna live when she got out of the hospital (not like anyone was gonna call state-run social services) so she ended up being temporarily placed in a pink flamingo room and is..... still there.....

at this point its her place she brought in her own bedding and taped pictures to the wall and installed like 40 locks on the door ok TRY to get her to leave

she works at food world to pay the (internet) bills, but her REAL job (as far as shes concerned) is running her blog ‘memoirs from murderville’ (she was a teen when she named it ok she KNOWS its dumb but she cant change it now cause fckn #branding. trust her, she hates it more than you do)

its essentially a diary that she writes under the name jim sheldon (an homage to the badass author alice sheldon, who wrote under the pseudonym james tiptree jr) about her life and daily experiences in FT with all the names and relevant details and such changed

it started as a stupid joke (and a way for her to disassociate!!! holla) when she was in high school, but then it got a shout-out on some true crime podcast, and then it was in some buzzfeed article, and shit spiraled out from there

everyone assumes its an elaborate piece of fiction and its lauded in certain communities for it’s ‘brutal authenticity’ and ‘delightfully irreverent narrator’ and ‘creative spin on unsolved crime’ and ‘disturbing satire of millennial detachment in the media age’

lol academics are so weird amirite

anyway because of her commitment to the blog she makes it a priority to get to know as many residents and visitors as she can, looking for the best content and recurring characters

shes kind of a dick and definitely a shit head but she really, genuinely does care about people’s stories (even if she doesn’t care much about most people themselves)

is she a killer??? no. well, maybe. she could be persuaded, probably. for the experience. maybe she’d like it who knows not me

does she have a death wish??? no. well, maybe. a little bit. she certainly values a good story more than she does her own dumb mortality. if it comes down to boring or dead, she’d pick dead :)

ok this got a lot longer than i thought !!! soml !!! if you read all this stream of consciousness nonsense ur an angel thank you !!!

as far as connections and such i would LOVE unknowing subjects/recurring characters in her blog, knowing subjects of her blog who love the attention, friends??? (what a concept lol), OH someone who deeply disapproves of the blog and finds it trivializing??? dangerous??? idk whatever theres lots of reasons to hate it??? maybe they wanna take it down???, LONG TIME RESIDENTS WHOVE KNOWN HER SINCE SHE WAS A KID, maybe someone who took up a parental mantle after her parents fucked off to the great gig in the sky??, uh maybe an ex or ex-friend who was disconcerted by her constant need for action and danger and bailed OR the opposite, one who pushed her a little too far and she had to bail??

idk man the possibilities are endless hmu love yall

#crimetown.intro #tw hanging #tw asphyxiation #tw suicide #tw murder #tw bombing #tw poison #i think thats all of it???#damn seth calm tf down

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tobns · 7 years ago

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@alexanderludwig: can’t believe we’re gonna be starting 2018 without queen latifah #rip

@jackie_emerson: what in the fresh hell are you talking about

@isabellefuhrman: ????????????

@alexanderludwig: @jackie_emerson queen latifah died

@amandlastenberg: uh, no she didn’t

@alexanderludwig: @amandlastenberg yes she did look it up

@jackie_emerson: @alexanderludiwg WE DON’T NEED TO LOOK IT UP

@dayookeniyi: god i hate white people

@jackquaid92: you know, the last 2 years have been so peaceful without getting a single notification from twitter on december 31…one of you please tell me why in the hell we’re descending back into this ridiculousness

@amandlastenberg: once the annoying orange became president, all bets were off

@willowshields: believe me, my life was going so well without one of these sucking up all of my data, so i don’t know why we’ve all of a sudden decided to breathe life back into this dead tradition

@jackie_emerson: as with everything in life, i blame @alexanderludwig and his inability to not believe everything he reads on the internet

@alexanderludwig: IT’S NOT MY FAULT QUEEN LATIFAH DIED

@jackie_emerson: SHE IS NOT DEAD YOU IMBECILE

@jhutch1992: long time, no see twitterverse

@jackquaid92: WHY ARE WE STARTING THIS SHIT AGAIN

@jhutch1992: @jackquaid92 dude calm ur tits, i legit just back got into my twitter account

@jackie_emerson: …then who in the fuck has been tweeting for you

@amandlastenberg: hey josh’s publicist!!! hows it going? pls tell josh he owes me 300 bucks okay thank u :)

@jhutch1992: @amandlastenberg it’s actually me this time, and you will get a nickel out of me when i’m dead

@amandlastenberg: @jhutch1992 don’t speak too soon, bc that can be arranged

@alexanderludwig: @jackie_emerson https://bit.ly/lu43t0 this is the article that confirms queen latifah’s death ill wait for my apology

@jackie_emerson: who’s sat scores did you steal in order to get into usc

@willowshields: i have met hardwood floors smarter than you

@jhutch1992: guess it’s time to log back off of twitter for forever!!

@isabellefuhrman: everyone who says you have no talent is completely wrong

@alexanderludwig: @isabellefuhrman aw thanks izzy <3

@isabellefuhrman: bc it’s truly talent, being THAT stupid

@alexanderludwig: @isabellefuhrman HE Y

@jackie_emerson: ALSO I WILL APOLOGIZE FOR NOTHING

@isabellefuhrman: last nye w/out alcohol #21hereicome

@amandlastenberg: yeah ok

@jackie_emerson: i can see the champagne glass in your hand from here, and i don’t even think we’re in the same time zone

@dayookeniyi: illegal alcohol, maybe

@isabellefuhrman: ok why are you all treating me like i’m ludwig

@alexanderludwig: not much fun is it, being the punching bag of the bunch, huh @isabellefurman

@willowshields: @alexanderludwig you misspelled isabelle’s last name u dumb fuck

@alexanderludwig: @willowshields EXCUSE ME WATCH UR PROFANITIY

@jackquaid92: while i’m not surprised none of u thg fuckers have lives to tend to instead of tweeting all the livelong night, but i on the other hand DO so peace out #livefromvegas

@jackie_emerson: i didn’t know you renamed your living room ‘vegas’

@jackquaid92: @jackie_emerson YOU ARE RUDE

@amandlastenberg: there is nothing for you in vegas aside from a lifelong gambling problem, why are you there

@jackquaid92: @amandlastenberg wow you are not ready to hear about this thing called a britney spears residency

@jhutch1992: @britneyspears run

@jackquaid92: @jhutch1992 i liked you better when your publicist tweeted from your account

@dayookeniyi: can we re-ring in 2012 instead of 2018? asking for a friend

@amandlastenberg: why, so @willowshields and i will be back to being 10 again??

@dayookeniyi: @amandlastenberg actually so obama will be back to being our president but THAT IS A VERY VALID POINT

@willowshields: it’s so he can take a few steps back from being a literal grandpa

@dayookeniyi: I’M ALMOST 30 NOT 300

@amandlastenberg: i see no difference

@jhutch1992: ok but why do we never drag @levenrambin into our twitter holiday dumpster fires like…she’s on here too

@jackie_emerson: just like you can’t work a remote, lev can’t work twitter aside from hitting the retweet button

@willowshields: she disassociates herself from us, like ludwig did that time in an interview

@alexanderludwig: @willowshields hey i apologized for that

@jackquaid92: @alexanderludwig @willowshields yes, and you could have spent more than $2 on an apology fruit basket, those berries were weak

@isabellefuhrman: i’m sorry @jackquaid92 i thought you were too busy with britney to tweet

@jackquaid92: @isabellefuhrman ….i am, it’s my publicist tweeting for me

@amandlastenberg: @jackquaid92 YEAH RIGHT

@jackie_emerson: just like you can’t work a remote, lev can’t work twitter aside from hitting the retweet button (RETWEETED BY @levenrambin)

@willowshields: it’s been 5 years WHY CAN I NOT FIND ANY DIFFERENT FRIENDS ASIDE FROM YOU PEOPLE

@isabellefuhrman: you’re never getting rid of us

@amandlastenberg: all the old goons are like barnacles

@dayookeniyi: @amandlastenberg I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU’RE CALLING AN OLD GOON BUT YOU BETTER WATCH IT

@amandlastenberg: @dayookeniyi or what? you gonna whack me with your cane? run me over with your walker?

@dayookeniyi: @amandlastenberg i am two steps away from blocking you, calling your mother, and summoning my fairy godmother to turn you back to an eleven year old

@alexanderludwig: cant wait to liv it up tonite

@jackie_emerson: die

@isabellefuhrman: no one cares

@amandlastenberg: stop trying to revive liv it up it died before it even began

@alexanderludwig: @amandlastenberg liv it up deserved a grammy

@amandlastenberg: @alexanderludwig if liv it up deserved a grammy, then @jackquaid92 playing the recorder deserved to be our national anthem

@alexanderludwig: @amandlastenberg: i see nothing wrong with this logic

@amandlastenberg: if any of my neighbors are reading this – i hate u and i hope the cops show up to arrest you not for being too fucking loud, but for making it sound like pitbull is playing an outdoor concert on your patio

@willowshields: …why don’t YOU just call the cops on them

@alexanderludwig: what do you have against pitbull

@jackquaid92: and yet, you people wonder why others find us judgmental

@dayookeniyi: WHO’S THE OLD GOON NOW, COMPLAINING ABOUT THE VOLUME LEVELS

@amandlastenberg: @dayookeniyi go back to a) knitting your sweaters and b) minding your own business

@dayookeniyi: @amandlastenberg you just wait until you hit your late 20s and all you want to do is tactile things, you’ll be singing a different tune then

@jackie_emerson: nothing screams quality nye party like frolicking on the beach and throwing all of the stupid shit 2017 gave me out into the ocean

@amandlastenberg: pls don’t get eaten by a shark

@isabellefuhrman: @amandlastenberg i wouldn’t worry, the shark would bring her back

@alexanderludwig: you’re stupid for going out in the ocean when it isn’t shark week, emerson

@jackie_emerson: @alexanderludwig i know damn well YOU aren’t calling ME stupid

@alexanderludwig: shark week is the only safe time to get in the water, since all the sharks are busy being on tv

@willowshields: i can feel my brain cells dying the longer i keep this app open

@isabellefuhrman: for any of you who actually bought that whole bit about @jackquaid92 being #liveatvegas …have i got news for u ;) #EXPOSED pic.twitter.com/j7skao2lm

@jackquaid92: WHAT THE FUCK ISABELLE

@jackie_emerson: MY EYES I’M BLIND

@amandlastenberg: @jackie_emerson suuuuuuure you are ;)

@amandlastenberg: ALSO WHY ARE YOU TWO TOGETHER

@jhutch1992: part of me doesn’t want to know….but part of me does want to know where you got ahold of that seashell bra

@isabellefuhrman: @jackquaid92 what, merquaid??? just figured everyone would want to be part of your world this evening

@jackquaid92: @isabellefuhrman you are STILL EVIL IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS

@amandlastenberg: not that i’m surprised you assholes are keeping secrets ONCE A-FUCKING-GAIN, but i never thought i’d live to see the day when jackabelle was the only thg ship that sailed

@isabellefuhrman WHAT

@jackquaid92: WH A T

@willowshields: oh how we (and the shippers) were wrong

@alexanderludwig: AMANDLA STENBERG IDK WHAT JACKABELLE IS BUT FOR YOUR SAKE IT BETTER BE SOME MAJESTICAL WILDLIFE ANIMAL THAT LIVES IN THE OUTBACK OF AUSTRALIA

@amandlastenberg: @alexanderludwig listen you don’t get to be sad jack made a move first, mister ‘all i date is discount isabelles’

@jhutch1992: #highlightsof2017 @amandlastenberg outing @alexanderludwig ‘s type for all of twitter to see

@alexanderludwig: I DO NOT HAVE A TYPE

@jackie_emerson: @alexanderludwig HOW DUMB ARE YOU

@isabellefuhrman: i am blocking all of you numskulls

@amandlastenberg: @isabellefuhrman who are you calling a numskull #mrsplebeian

@willowshields: @amandlastenberg @isabellefuhrman HOLY SHIT DID U JUST GO WHERE I THINK U WENT

@isabellefuhrman: @amandlastenberg BLOCKED

@isabellefuhrman: @amandlastenberg AND I AM NEVER TELLING YOU ANYTHING EVER AGAIN

@jackquaid92: @willowshields STOP CALLING ME

@willowshields: NOT UNTIL YOU ANSWER AND TELL ME WHEN YOU AND ISABELLE STARTED DATING

@isabellefuhrman: @willowshields WE ARE NOT DATING

@jhutch1992: @isabellefuhrman no guy willingly wears a seashell bra and red wig for a picture that isn’t being taken by their girlfriend

@willowshields: @jhutch1992 for the first time in your life, you have made sense

@isabellefuhrman: today’s word of the day is BLOCKED!! here it is in a sentence: all of my thg costars are getting BLOCKED

@jackie_emerson: excuse me i’ll have you know i did nothing to perpetuate this jackabelle insanity

@amandlastenberg: i’d love to see you try

@willowshields: who’s gonna help you block us, @jhutch1992

@jhutch1992: @willowshields i see what you did there and i do not appreciate it

@alexanderludwig: pls don’t block me

@isabellefuhrman: @alexanderludwig ……..

@jackie_emerson: @alexanderludwig SHE’S HAD YOU BLOCKED SINCE 2013

@dayookeniyi: almost 2018 and the hunger games relationship disaster is STILL plaguing my life

@amandlastenberg: you’re just jealous that no one shipped you with anyone

@jackquaid92: wanna trade places?????

@dayookeniyi: @jackquaid92 no thanks, especially seeing as how ludwig’s probably gonna show up on your front door within the hour to pummel you for going after his girl

@alexanderludwig: #wolfpackcode

@jackquaid92: OKAY FIRST OF ALL YOU BETTER DELETE THIS SUBTWEET BULLSHIT BECAUSE I AM NOT DATING ISABELLE AND EVEN IF I WAS, ALL I HAVE TO SAY IS THAT YOU HAD T H R E E YEARS TO GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND IT’S NOT MY FAULT YOU’RE A MORON WHO WOULD RATHER DATE A LOOKALIKE (WHICH WE ALL NOTICE BTW) THAN ADMIT YOUR FEELINGS

@amandlastenberg: for my birthday, all i want is for someone to print @jackquaid92 ‘s reply and @jackie_emerson ‘s og snapping on ludwig tweet and frame them

@jhutch1992: wait since when did we have a code???????

@dayookeniyi: ……who is we

@jhutch1992: @dayookeniyi YOU BETTER CALL ME

@jackie_emerson: one year, we can’t have ONE YEAR WHERE NOTHING STUPID HAPPENS

@willowshields: you had two of them, clearly you took them for granted

@jackie_emerson: @willowshields if only you and amandla had like, a half an ounce of chill, i would not have to play the role of the bomb squad

@amandlastenberg: @jackie_emerson @willowshields THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR NOT INCLUDING US

@alexanderludwig: @amandlastenberg YOU GET INCLUDED WAAAAAY MORE THAN I DO

@jackie_emerson: @alexanderludwig YES AND THAT IS FOR A R E A S O N

@jackquaid92: new year’s resolution: hire a publicist to run my twitter for me

@jhutch1992: dude you really should, best decision i ever made

@dayookeniyi: what, and miss out on these beautiful little breaks in sanity?????? why would you ever wanna do that

@jackquaid92: @dayookeniyi might i redirect you to like, the last half hour of my twitter timeline

@amandlastenberg: in 2018 yall WILL ADD ME AND WILLOW TO WHATEVER LITTLE SECRET GROUP CHAT YOU HAVE GOING ON

@jackie_emerson: the only thing i have to do in life is die

@amandlastenberg: @jackie_emerson keep it up and it will be by my hand

@dayookeniyi: we don’t have a group chat

@isabellefuhrman: @dayookeniyi or you’re just not in it

@dayookeniyi: @isabellefuhrman EXCUSE ME YOU BETTER GET TO ADDING ME

@amandlastenberg: @isabellefuhrman i swear to god if you add dayo before me i will show up at your house

@isabellefuhrman: @amandlastenberg i mean, my house has become thg cast central this evening against my will anyways so what’s one more person

@madelinefuhrman: @alexanderludwig i can see your car parked outside my window so i’m just gonna go ahead and save you the trouble – go home

@alexanderludwig: WAIT WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU AT HOME I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN PARIS

@madelinefuhrman: @alexanderludwig 2017’s just been a year of disappointments, hasn’t it

@willowshields: how is it that we all just magically happen to be in the same zip code whenever we go on one of these twitter tirades

@jhutch1992: and i’m always not

@amandlastenberg: @jhutch1992 you’re rich, hop on a plane and fly out here

@jackie_emerson: i mean, i always try to not be anywhere near you people during the holiday season but the universe hates me

@isabellefuhrman: @jackie_emerson says the girl who texted me yesterday begging me to cancel all my plans so we could hang out

@isabellefuhrman: in 2018 i’m going to chase after my newest career goal: professional receipt collector and exposer

@dayookeniyi: does that mean your athlete phase has finally ended???? thank jesus

@jackquaid92: @dayookeniyi i still think nike mistook her for the OTHER, actually athletic isabelle fuhrman in existence

@isabellefuhrman: @jackquaid92 @dayookeniyi we’ll see who gets the last laugh, tweedledumb and tweedledumber

@jackie_emerson: exposer is not a word, isabelle, stop trying to imitate your one true love

@willowshields: @jackie_emerson NOW WOULD BE A REALLY GREAT TIME TO ADD ME AND AMANDLA TO THE GROUP CHAT SO WE CAN FIND OUT WHO THIS IS ABOUT

@isabellefuhrman: i have dirt on ALL OF YOU i might as well be the key-keeper of the fucking thg cast secrets

@amandlastenberg: @isabellefuhrman lemme stop you RIGHT THERE BC YOU KNOW GOOD AND WELL THAT YOU AREN’T THE ONE THAT HACKED INTO TRAFFIC CAMS TO SPY ON LUDWIG WITH ONE OF HIS WALMART BRAND ISABELLES SO GET BACK TO RUNNING LAPS, FORREST

@dayookeniyi: @isabellefuhrman is not cut out to be an athlete in any form – a thread

@dayookeniyi: exhibit a) the infamous platform incident where we were all convinced she was dead and we’d have to recast the role of clove (and thus introduce alexander to his first knockoff isabelle)

@jackie_emerson: I’M INTERRUPTING THE THREAD TO CONTRIBUTE and remind everyone of when isabelle tripped over the fucking LEVEL SIDEWALK AND SPRAINED HER ANKLE

@jackquaid92: isabelle gave herself a black eye opening my freezer

@amandlastenberg: isabelle fell through the pool ladder at my fourth of july pool party and had bruises all over the insides of her legs for 3 weeks

@alexanderludwig: once during filming isabelle was in my room and walked smack into the balcony door and i thought she’d broken her nose

@jhutch1992: ooh on the mall tour isabelle sliced her thumb wide open trying to tear off a piece of scotch tape

@isabellefuhrman: all of you are going to begin 2018 in this wonderful land called my blocked list

@alexanderludwig: SOS

@jackquaid92: told u not to follow jackie into the closet

@amandlastenberg: I AM DRIVING 30 MILES OVER THE SPEED LIMIT TO GET TO ISABELLE’S AS FAST AS I CAN SO HOLD OFF ON ANY DEVELOPMENTS IN THIS GAME OF 7 MINUTES OF HEAVEN

@willowshields: it’s true she’s driving like we’re auditioning for fast and the furious 9

@alexanderludwig: @amandlastenberg this is not seven minutes in heaven belieb me it’s seven minutes in heLL

@dayookeniyi: @alexanderludwig did you just type ‘belieb’

@alexanderludwig: @dayookeniyi autocorrect

@amandlastenberg: @alexanderludwig WHY IS THAT SOMETHING YOUR PHONE WOULD AUTOCORRECT A WORD TO

@jackie_emerson: @alexanderludwig GET OFF YOUR PHONE BEFORE I THROW IT INTO THE OCEAN

@jackquaid92: the worst thing to ever happen in 2017 was for twitter to give all of you nimrods 280 characters

@isabellefuhrman: says the guy who just got done using all 280 to roast alexander like a marshmallow

@jackie_emerson: LIKE YOU DON’T TAKE FULL ADVANTAGE OF SQUEEZING IN EVERY LAST CHARACTER TO COMPLETE THE BRITNEY LYRIC

@willowshields: in dark times like these, twitter needs as much of our fuckery as they can get

@alexanderludwig: if trump, the least deserving person ever, gets 280 characters, THEN SO DO I

@amandlastenberg: alright which one of you motherfuckers called the cops on me and willow

@jhutch1992: don’t look at me i’m busy freezing my ass off in kentucky and trying to set up this roku

@alexanderludwig: wasn’t me, i’m busy being INTERROGATED BY JACKIE WHO HAS APPARENTLY JOINED THE FBI SINCE WE LAST SAW HER

@dayookeniyi: i just learned how to dial 911 in this country like, 7 months ago so count me out

@jackie_emerson: what excuse did you use on them??? ‘sorry i was speeding officer, my ships from 2012 were on the verge of sinking’

@jackquaid92: consider this payback for starting jackabelle

@jhutch1992: have any of my followers/thg costars set up a roku tv and can give me advice

@dayookeniyi: advice: give up now

@isabellefuhrman: use your roku as a coaster

@jackie_emerson: who at best buy talked you into buying one of those like did they not know you were technologically inept the minute you walked through the wrong set of automatic doors

@amandlastenberg: call the lapd and tell them officer chad wrongfully accused me of about 20 different traffic violations

@willowshields: put it back in the box and send it to me, where it will actually see use

@jackquaid92: still trying to decipher if this is josh or josh’s publicist….

@jhutch1992: and the award for the least helpful people on the planet goes TO

@jackquaid92: @jhutch1992 yep this is definitely josh

@isabellefuhrman: @jackie_emerson you have 46 seconds to get the fuck out of my closet before i come in there and drag you out by the hair

@jackie_emerson: i’m trying to jumpstart your love life okay hold your fucking horses

@amandlastenberg: I AM COMING AS FAST AS I CAN @jackie_emerson HOLD THE FORT DOWN AND MAKE SURE JACK DOESN’T CALL THE COPS ON ME FOR SPEEDING YET AGAIN

@isabellefuhrman: @madelinefuhrman please come out of your room and literally kick everyone out i’m going crazy

@madelinefuhrman: @isabellefuhrman you had your chance to lose touch with them years ago, time for you to make your bed and lie in it sis

@willowshields: things i need to happen in 2018 – for the traffic court to take away @amandlastenberg ‘s license

@amandlastenberg: don’t you even START

@dayookeniyi: @amandlastenberg DON’T TWEET AND DRIVE

@amandlastenberg: @dayookeniyi THEN TELL THE OTHER FUCKERS AT ISABELLE’S TO SIT DOWN, TURN ON HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL, AND WAIT UNTIL I GET THERE BEFORE THEY START DOING THINGS

@dayookeniyi: @amandlastenberg they listen to me as well as they do to you: not at all

@alexanderludwig: i wish i was @levenrambin right about now – not involved in this mess, probly enjoying my new years eve, living without the knowledge of what the back of @isabellefuhrman ‘s closet looks like

@isabellefuhrman: YOU WHAT NOW

@amandlastenberg: MY FOOT OF LEAD IS ONLY SO HEAVY

@jackie_emerson: you’ll thank me later ludwig

@alexanderludwig: @jackie_emerson i can’t thank anyone who doesn’t have respect for the dead

@jackie_emerson: @alexanderludwig IF YOU SUGGEST QUEEN LATIFAH IS DEAD ONE MORE FUCKING TIME I AM HEAVE-HOING YOU OUT THE DAMN THIRD STORY WINDOW

@jackquaid92: HANNAH MONTANA MARATHONNNNNNNN!!!!!

@dayookeniyi: we have descended into hell

@willowshields: @amandlastenberg pls turn the car around i suddenly want to go home

@isabellefuhrman: IF YOU BREAK MY COUCH TRYING TO REENACT THE PUMPIN UP THE PARTY PERFORMANCE I WILL KILL YOU

@jhutch1992: are there any subliminal messages in the hannah montana soundtrack about how to properly set up a roku tv without using the usb cord to gouge out one’s eyes

@jackie_emerson: @jackquaid92 serenading me with ‘if we were a movie’ is not the way to my heart

@amandlastenberg: @jackquaid92 STOP IT RIGHT NOW YOU AREN’T ALLOWED TO MAKE A MOVE ON HER UNTIL I GET THERE AND CAN RECORD IT FOR THE LAST LITTLE CULT OF TUMBLR FANS OUT THERE

@isabellefuhrman: #jacquelackFOREVAAAAAAA

@dayookeniyi: dude don’t disrespect corbin bleu like that

@jackie_emerson: @dayookeniyi for someone who’s SOOOOOO opposed to this hannah montana marathon, you sure do have a vast hm knowledge

@dayookeniyi: @jackie_emerson listen we only got like….5 channels back in the day and one of them happened to be the disney channel, i’ve lived through more hannah than i care to admit; i could bust out into the nobody’s perfect dance right here and now but I’M NOT

@willowshields: you guys are like in the same room….WHY ARE YOU TWEETING EACH OTHER

@jhutch1992: why do people in my family BUY ME GIFTS THAT REQUIRE COMMON SENSE WHEN IT COMES TO TECHNOLOGY

@jackie_emerson: you barely have common sense period

@isabellefuhrman: there’s this magical thing called youtube that might be of use

@amandlastenberg: @isabellefuhrman please like he knows how to work a web browser

@dayookeniyi: @amandlastenberg IF YOU DON’T STOP TWEETING AND DRIVING I WILL CALL THE LAPD

@jackquaid92: go cry about it into your tissues made of 20 dollar bills and tell someone who CARES

@alexanderludwig: for a moment, i thought the word box was spelled b-o-c-k-s

@willowshields: WE ALMOST DIED BECAUSE AMANDLA’S CAR READ THIS OUT LOUD TO US AND SHE SWERVED TO RUN US INTO A PALM TREE BC OF HOW DONE SHE IS W YOU

@isabellefuhrman: DID MY CLOSET SCAR YOU THAT BADLY

@jackie_emerson: sometimes i wonder how hard you were thrown at a brick wall when you were a child in order for these to be the results twenty something years later

@dayookeniyi: ………..just HOW much marijuana did you smoke before arriving

@alexanderludwig: @willowshields @isabellefuhrman @jackie_emerson @dayookeniyi oh come on like you people haven’t had moments like this

@jackie_emerson: @alexanderludwig WE HAVEN’T

@amandlastenberg: somehow we have run into nye traffic even though we’re headed in the opposite direction of downtown…is everyone trying to get to isabelle’s house or something this evening

@jackquaid92: i’m sensing passive-aggressiveness

@amandlastenberg: @jackquaid92 NO SHIT

@isabellefuhrman: maybe it’s just a sign that you’re not meant to ever experience a nye with us

@amandlastenberg: @isabellefuhrman you will take that back or else i will drive my car right into your living room

@isabellefuhrman: @amandlastenberg assuming you ever get here, that is

@jackie_emerson: the devil works, but la party-goers work harder

@dayookeniyi: @elinafuhrman is the best cook on the face of this planet

@isabellefuhrman: it takes one housewife to know another

@alexanderludwig: if you schmooze your way into getting that last vegan brownie imma wake up madeline and set her on your ass

@amandlastenberg: i’m going to take this as a sign that things have gone back to being uneventful as i requested so thank u dear idiots you all get gold star stickers when i get there

@jackie_emerson: @amandlastenberg *if, not when

@willowshields: can someone please come pick me up i’m on a road somewhere near isabelle’s house and amandla is 3 seconds away from a meltdown

@jackquaid92: this is karma for the jackabelle thing

@amandlastenberg: @jackquaid92 I am coming for your ass.

@dayookeniyi: @jackquaid92 @amandlastenberg dude she used proper capitalization and punctuation you better leave now while you still have a chance

@isabellefuhrman: #champagnefordaysssss

@jackquaid92: what happened to this being the last nye without alcohol?????

@amandlastenberg: keep on drinking your champagne girly, means that the hard stuff gets saved for me and by jove i’m gonna need it

@alexanderludwig: SHARE

@jackie_emerson: keep the alcohol away from ludwig’s grubby paws the last thing we need is him getting drunk and writing the 2018 follow up to liv it up

@jhutch1992: IT’S NEW YEARS HERE IN KENTUCKY HAPPY NEW YEARS AND MAY 2018 BE THE YEAR I FINALLY COMPREHEND MODERN TECHNOLOGY

@alexanderludwig: WAIT IT’S NEW YEARS THERE

@jackquaid92: what’s the sound situation down there?

@jhutch1992: @jackquaid92 sounds like the revolutionary war is occurring right outside my window BUT IT’S OKAY BC IT’S 2018

@jackie_emerson: your idea of modern technology is a toaster

@amandlastenberg: HAPPY NEW YEAR THANKS FOR BEING THE MOST BORING, UNEVENTFUL FRIEND I HAVE

@jhutch1992: @amandlastenberg THANK YOU

@jhutch1992: @amandlastenberg: HEY WAIT A SECOND

@jackquaid92: is it too late to ask for things i want for christmas bc i need life alert right about now

@jackie_emerson: you and me both

@willowshields: amandla wants to know what happened and so do i (but i’m not gonna tell amandla until traffic starts moving because i’m actually afraid for my life)

@dayookeniyi: @elinafuhrman where do you keep your bleach

@alexanderludwig: it’s midnight somewhere ;)

@jackie_emerson: and it’s 2017 here which means i’ve still got time to leave you behind

@amandlastenberg: ELABORATE PLEASE

@isabellefuhrman: x

@willowshields: CALL 911 I REPEAT SOMEONE CALL 911 WE ARE VEERING WILDLY OFF THE ROAD

@dayookeniyi: time to burn the best of both worlds into my retinas to hopefully unsee what just happened

@amandlastenberg: things i can officially say i’ve done before 2017 ends: off-roading

@jackie_emerson: in la?????

@amandlastenberg: @jackie_emerson you can do anything you put your mind to

@willowshields: we’ll be spending 2018 in the hospital getting treated for whiplash

@dayookeniyi: @willowshields see this wouldn’t be a problem if you and amandla were still 10

@amandlastenberg: @dayookeniyi go back to your hannah montana marathon oladayo and leave me ALONE

@alexanderludwig: @amandlastenberg who the hell is oladayo

@dayookeniyi: @alexanderludwig ....that’s it i give up @amandlastenberg if i come stand outside isabelle’s house will you hit me and put me out of my misery

@amandlastenberg: @dayookeniyi you got it dude

@jackie_emerson: the rise of the little merquaid

@dayookeniyi: white people

@jackquaid92: STOP TELLING SOCIAL MEDIA ABOUT THIS GODDAMMIT

@amandlastenberg: i hope one of you knuckleheads has a hidden talent of being a mechanic because MY CAR SURE IS GONNA NEED THE TUNE UP

@madelinefuhrman: CAN YOU ALL GO HOME ALREADY

@isabellefuhrman: @madelinefuhrman you had your chance to get rid of them hours ago, time to make your bed and lie in it SIS

@madelinefuhrman: @isabellefuhrman don’t use my words against me or i’ll start tweeting out old diary entries now that alexbelle is a-happenin

@amandlastenberg: @madelinefuhrman YOU START HUNTING AND I’LL BE THERE IN UNDER 5 TO HELP YOU TWEET THEM OUT

@willowshields: @amandlastenberg SLOW THE FUCK DOWN I JUST SAW US PASS LIGHT

@jhutch1992: next year i’m gonna fly out to wherever the hell in the world you guys decide to be so i can spend new years with you guys instead of my redneck neighbors and malfunctioning roku

@jackquaid92: i nominate we all go to disney, and you foot the bill

@jhutch1992: @jackquaid92 why the hell should i pay when i have liam’s credit card information stored in my apple pay

@jackie_emerson: i’m with jack, let’s go to disney world next year!!!!

@isabellefuhrman: we just gotta make sure wherever we go, we give @amandlastenberg ample travel time or else she might blackmail mickey into stabbing us

@amandlastenberg: @isabellefuhrman i’m touched that you know me so well

@jhutch1992: @jackquaid92 @jackie_emerson @isabellefuhrman @amandlastenberg are you guys just gonna ignore the bit about my roku????

@jackie_emerson: @jhutch1992 you actually expected otherwise?

@isabellefuhrman: i hear tires squealing so i’m going to assume @amandlastenberg has finally arrived to the wasn’t-supposed-to-be-a-party party

@amandlastenberg: I AM HERE AND MY PHONE IS ON RECORD RESUME THE ALEXBELLE MAKEOUT SESSIONS BECAUSE I AM CLAIMING MY TITLE OF QUEEN OF THE INTERNET

@amandlastenberg: also pls let me in it’s cold

@dayookeniyi: WONDERFUL @amandlastenberg i’m waiting at the door with scissors, provide your license upon entry

@amandlastenberg: @dayookeniyi maybe in 2018 you’ll stop being so delusional

@willowshields: i have never been so grateful to see @alexanderludwig in my life

@alexanderludwig: um what are you talking about i’m a cATCH

@jackie_emerson: how to know you’ve gotten Desperate

@willowshields: @jackie_emerson you weren’t in that car

@amandlastenberg: WE WERE NOT GOING THAT FAST

@willowshields: @isabellefuhrman please lock @amandlastenberg outside bc lightning is about to strike her down

@alexanderludwig: you guys are going to leave behind this mess of USING ME AS A PUNCHING BAG IN 2017 DAMMIT

@jackie_emerson: they will be lowering you into the ground and i’ll still be throwing hands

@jackquaid92: if you haven’t shaken it by now, you never will dude

@alexanderludwig: @isabellefuhrman please protect me

@isabellefuhrman: @alexanderludwig you’re a good kisser but you’re an even greater punching bag xoxo

@jackquaid92: almost all of the gang back together again…..i wish i was in vegas with britney

@dayookeniyi: all we have to do is pull out a karaoke machine and put ludwig in some heels, it’ll practically be the same thing

@jackquaid92: @dayookeniyi how dare you liken ludwig to jesus spears

@isabellefuhrman: um do you not remember what happened when we went to go see taylor swift’s nye performance a few years ago in times square???????

@jackquaid92: @isabellefuhrman it was wonderful what are you talking about

@jackie_emerson: @jackquaid92 WE ALMOST GOT ARRESTED

@amandlastenberg: get off your PHONES AND ENTERTAIN ME

@jackquaid92: @amandlastenberg this is why we don’t invite you, you’re too high maintenance – always trying to build up more footage for your alexbelle/emerquaid repertoire

@amandlastenberg: @jackquaid92 okay first, i don’t buy that you know what the word repertoire means so get off dictonary.com and SECONDLY I HAVE A DUTY TO THE PEOPLE OF TUMBLR

@dayookeniyi: i thought i had seen it all tonight….and then someone mentioned the word ‘reputation’

@jackquaid92: BEST ALBUM OF 2018

@alexanderludwig: SAVED MY LFIE

@jhutch1992: WHAT IS THIS ABOUT QUEEN SWIFT

@isabellefuhrman: you had to know the taylor swift fan-men would be extra rabid on a full moon, dayo, it’s your own damn fault

@amandlastenberg: @jhutch1992 since when did you become a taylor swift fan

@jhutch1992: @amandlastenberg SINCE ALWAYS

@alexanderludwig: I DID SOMETHING BAD IS MY JAM SOMEONE CRANK IT UP

@willowshields: @alexanderludwig *pretends to be shocked*

@dayookeniyi: @isabellefuhrman suddenly your closet is looking more and more like a safe place to begin the new year

@isabellefuhrman: @dayookeniyi WHAT IS SO SCARY ABOUT MY CLOSET?!

@jackie_emerson: @isabellefuhrman sweetie, you can’t be that oblivious

@amandlastenberg: @jackie_emerson don’t speak so soon, this is the girl that’s had the hots for ludwig for how long now???

@isabellefuhrman: @jackie_emerson @amandlastenberg get out of my house

@jackie_emerson: maybe in 2018 i will join @levenrambin and break free of this thg twitter curse

@jackquaid92: maybe in 2018 alexander and isabelle will actually stay together

@isabellefuhrman: maybe in 2018 you all will stop coming to my house uninvited

@willowshields: maybe in 2018 amandla will get her license revoked and stop terrorizing the roads

@dayookeniyi: maybe in 2018 i will get to watch as the isabelle posters in nike come down

@isabellefuhrman: @dayookeniyi maybe in 2018 i’ll get you your aarp card for your birthday

@dayookeniyi: @isabellefuhrman I AM NOT THAT OLD DAMMIT

@isabellefuhrman: @dayookeniyi i’m sorry i don’t speak grandpa

@dayookeniyi: maybe in 2018 you people will stop being so SASSY

@jhutch1992: maybe in 2018 you guys will learn about this thing called communication

@alexanderludwig: maybe in 2018 (as in this week) when queen latifah’s funeral is televised you all will apologize and acknowledge that i’m not dumber than a bag of rocks

@amandlastenberg: 3 words, all of you: NEVER. GONNA. HAPPEN

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