#and everything is kind of nightmare right now

[corkinavoid]

Hey, @confused-they, this is for you and for everyone else who wanted more of this AU. Merry Christmas.

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 4]

[<- part 3]

[Written to 'Tantrum' by Ashnikko]

TW: mentioned mild gore (some inside parts become outside ones, nothing graphic)

Tim can't breathe.

Joker's mad laughter is ringing through the darkness of the warehouse, echoing in his head, the screeching sound straight out of nightmares. Hood should be nearby - as in, somewhere in this darkness along with him - but Tim can't think about that, his own maniacal giggles bubbling in the back of his throat, a grin tugging at his lips.

He has to get up. He has to stand, he has to fight, and it really shouldn't be this hard.

But he can't breathe.

Tim clutches his fingers on the fabric of his suit on the chest, distantly wondering if this is how Danny feels when he is more human than ghost. Probably not, he mentioned that breathing is only optional.

He really wants his boyfriend right now. His fiance. Whatever, he wants Danny, he wants his cold hands on his cheeks and the faint, humming purr of his core that Tim finds nice to fall asleep to, and-

Maybe later. He can't exactly summon him now, not in the middle of a fight, especially not in the middle of a fight with Joker of all people.

There's an angry growl somewhere to Tim's left, staticky through the voice-modulator. Then several sounds of gunshots and a gleeful, taunting yell of the madman.

Hold on.

Tim snaps his eyes open - not that anything changes, everything is still pitch-black around him - and blinks.

Why not?..

It's not like Danny is a civilian. Tim tends to pay little attention to the fact since the King of Infinite Realms doesn't hang out with the whole superhero convention on principle. But Tim is pretty sure he won't mind it this once.

Besides, Tim is so done with Joker that it's not even funny.

A few breathy chuckles escape his throat as he lets his body fully slump back on the floor and brings his left hand to his face, placing a quick kiss on the Ring through his glove. He doesn't need to do that, not really, but it's kind of a ritual at this point, and the gesture somehow makes him feel better.

"Danny," he whispers.

For a long moment, nothing happens.

Then, there's a soft, popping sound, and his beautiful boyfriend is floating right over him, faintly glowing and a little sleepy. Tim is momentarily distracted by his bare feet and pj pants with tiny rockets on them.

Danny yawns and tugs the hem of his t-shirt down as it starts to float. "Whas'sup," he mutters, rubbing his eyes and clearly not fully awake, and Tim's heart melts instantly. He loves Danny. He just... He loves him, okay? He loves that Danny didn't question his summons for a moment, he loves that he came even though he was obviously sleeping, and he loves that Danny is wearing a tee he stole from Tim.

Unfortunately, before he is able to get his shit back together, another sound of gunshot ripples through the air, and Danny startles, blinking himself awake and looking in the direction of it. Then, his eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth makes a soft 'O' shape before he turns back to Tim and tilts his head in question.

"You want me to deal with him? The clown, I mean, not your brother," he asks, and it's so casual and off-handed that Tim actually huffs a laugh.

"Sorry, I was just- I'm really tired of his ass," Tim should probably sit up, this is not a talk they should have while he is lying on the ground. On the other hand, Jason is somewhere out there, and he has guns and doesn't have a clear visual around him, so maybe Tim shouldn't sit up.

Danny hums, "Is that a yes?"

Tim just nods. He is pretty sure Danny can see him despite the darkness. "I promise it's a one-time thing, I don't plan on calling you every time one of local lunatics acts up. I just... I fucking can't with him," he admits with a defeated sigh. But, before he can spiral any further into the abyss of unworthiness, Danny's cold hands are cupping his cheeks, and his icy eyes are looking right into Tim's sky blue.

"Love, I don't mind getting rid of each and every one of your Rogues. Granted, it would probably fuck up the timeline, and Clocky would be mad, but I'd do it if you want me to, no questions asked." His voice is quiet, and Tim has never been more grateful for his domino mask, because he can feel his cheeks heating up and he doesn't want Danny to see the exact effect his words are causing.

"I- Okay," he quietly agrees, and then blinks, backtracking, "Wait, no, don't fuck up the timeline. Just deal with the laughing bitch this once, and that's it. We can handle the rest."

Danny is smiling at him in that adoring way Tim recognizes as 'I really want to kiss you, but it's not the time or place'. Then, he nods and lets go of Tim's cheeks, straightening up in the air, and his clothes shift all at once, like a magic trick.

Gone are the stretched out t-shirt and the pants with rocket ships. In their place, Danny's body is head to toe covered in stars and galaxies that hold the vague shape of armor, and there's a slightly shimmering, blueish-green translucent cape over one of his shoulders.

The Crown over his head, the sentient artifact much like the Ring on Tim's finger, appears from nowhere, and, after a brief pause - Tim swears it was debating on whether or not the situation is worth the effort - promptly sets itself on fire. Blue flames cast long shadows on Danny's, no, King's face, making him look older and his cheekbones sharper.

Before, the boy was only faintly glowing, and, evidently, the others present in the warehouse were too distracted to notice him.

But now, with the flaming Crown casting dancing shadows on the walls of the warehouse, it's really hard not to see the otherworldly being making an appearance.

"Holy fuck," Tim hears Hood's quiet, astonished voice, and almost cracks a grin.

Yeah, he wants to say, that's my boyfriend. Although he suspects he and Jason are having vastly different reactions to Danny's presence. Because Tim kind of wants to take all his words about dealing with Joker back and take Danny home, straight to bed.

...He is going to have to strangle Jason in his sleep if his reaction is similar. No, that's a wrong thought, this is so not the time for it.

"Who are you, flying glowstick?" Joker sounds rightfully pissed off by the interruption, "Does Batsy employ alien kids now?"

Danny chuckles, the starry freckles on his cheeks glowing brighter, "Okay, just because you compared me to an alien, I'm not going to completely erase you from this plane of existence."

Tim snaps his head up.

"Wait, no killing," he reminds, not because he actually cares but because B would throw a fit. Danny brushes him off with a wave of his hand.

"No worries, he'll stay alive," he smiles at Tim, and to everyone else, it probably looks like stuff of nightmares, sharp, pointy teeth and lips stretched out far beyond human capabilities. But Tim sees it for what it is: a face of mischief.

"Do I get a vote in this?" Jason's deadpan voice comes from somewhere on the other side of the warehouse at the same moment as Joker screeches in rage, "Who the fuck do you think-"

"Nope," Danny pops the 'p', and Tim is not sure if he is answering to Hood or refusing to listen to the clown's monolog by it. Maybe it's both. It's probably both.

The next moment, Danny is gone, disappeared from the place he was floating at, and Tim hears a wet, very unpleasant sound followed by Joker's scream of pain.

"You see this?" He hears Danny's nonchalant, unfazed voice above the clown's pained cries, "This is your rib, bitch- Hey, quit whining and listen to me, it's important."

There's a slap, a rustle, and a sound of ripping fabric, and Joker's voice becomes muffled, like someone put a gag in his mouth.

"You're like Adam now, you know, lacking one rib," Danny continues, "Only I'm not making you a girl out of this one, I'm pretty sure you don't deserve to reproduce. Anyway, going further down that metaphor, I'm the God almighty in this situation, so if you want to keep the rest of your ribs - and the rest of other things that are supposed to stay inside of you - to yourself, you gotta do a thing for me, okay?"

There's some muffled groans that Joker makes in response, then an enraged growl, a sound of a struggle, another slap, and then that same wet, disgusting squelch.

"Two ribs, wow, okay, you're really being difficult about this!" Danny sounds so innocently dumbstruck about it that Tim suppresses a laugh. "Are you listening now?" There's a quiet, choking wheeze that answers him, and Danny sounds quite pleased when he says, "Great."

Tim debates if he should look. He doesn't exactly want to since the sounds provide enough context, but it might be somewhat cathartic for him.

And then the air around him inexplicably shifts, becoming cold and oppressive, weighting Tim down like a heavy blanket and pushing him into the floor. The dancing shadows and the blue light of flames on the walls twist and churn, like taking aim, and Tim doesn't know what Danny looks like right now but he knows he is as far from human as possible, his voice coming with a staticky, echoing whisper, a threatening hiss slithering inside Tim's ears.

"Play your little games all you want, Fallen Jester, but know that you can not win. The punchline to your joke is long overdue, and your soul has belonged to me for quite some time now," his words are cold and uncaring, and in all the time Tim has known his boyfriend, he has never heard him speak like this: with a sense of lazy power, like he is only humoring the people around him.

Like they mean nothing to him.

"I will not kill you, or at least not here and now. My Guiding Star doesn't want to see my hands dirty with your filthy remains. Besides, death is only a moment, and you don't deserve only a moment of suffering," he huffs a short, humorless chuckle, "But, luckily, I am the Eyes of the Universe, the Titan's Bane, the King of the Dead, and everyone will meet me once their eyes fall shut for the last time," there's a smile in his voice now, full of cold and merciless anticipation. Tim feels a shiver run down his spine.

"So just you wait, Jester, and I will meet you on the other side. Then we'll see how whatever is left of your soul is going to spend an eternity."

Tim's ears are ringing with the pure, somehow gleeful hatred that laces those last words. He didn't know he could literally taste the disgust and the promise of pain, and yet, here he is, with a hint of something sour on his tongue.

And then, the heavy, weighted air that has been charged with power is lifted, the shadows and bright blue lights are all gone, and Danny, wearing his pj's and smiling, is standing over him. His feet are planted on the ground for once, and the Crown is gone without a trace, but his t-shirt is still trying to float up. The boy tugs it down again, offering a hand to Tim.

"Wanna go out for a burger since I'm already here in Gotham?"

Tim had never breathed easier in his life. He laughs a little and reaches up, taking his beautifully unhinged boyfriend's hand and standing up.

"I thought you'd never ask."

[hanihomed]

Read it once in your life, and never regret it.🖐️✅

Are you bored with posts asking for help from Gaza? You are right, but imagine our situation as we live this war day after day for 15 months!! do you think we're tired too

I have been injured for 12 months and my condition is as it is every day there is no treatment or medicine my condition is as it is every day it gets worse no food or drink in Gaza every day we die of hunger The most beautiful thing for a person is to have a family and a family, but unfortunately my wife gave birth to her daughter Mariam and she died as a result of the war on Gaza.

What is the fault of our children to deprive their childhood of their most basic rights of education, food, drink and fun? They have lost all their childhood memories in our destroyed house.

My father is an older 75 years old, a hypertensive patient who also needs treatment and attention, lost his home, he does not have the ability to walk

Asking for help is not easy, it is very embarrassing, especially for a family that is used to living a decent life. We used to help others, not ask for help.

But the war has turned our lives

I have been Hani for the past 15 months and I have been infected and unable to meet the needs of my family, but my wife has been struggling to get healthy food for my children and medicine for my injury and my elderly father, whose weak body has been attacked by infection and anemia. Where prices have risen 10 times and are very, very expensive, everything is done. As you read my letter, my family and I try to survive through all kinds of suffering.

What was once a beautiful dream and reality is now a nightmare. Hunger is one thing, but hunger and conscription forced you to flee in the middle of the night when tanks suddenly arrive in your area, and you run away to save your life while I am injured and unable to move a difficult and indescribable feeling, I want to flee and my father and my fear for my children and my wife is something tiring and sad to describe all that while we are under fire, leaving behind all his daughters for years

Can you feel my broken heart now?? Can you imagine what I'm going through in these moments? We desperately need your help in the hope of escaping Gaza and reaching safety to save my life from my serious injury and save my family from danger and explosions.

You may feel helpless for this genocide, but you can certainly save my family.We appeal to your merciful hearts to help us escape this catastrophe, which the human mind cannot bear

I know that you share my story out of love and humanity, and I am really grateful for that❤️☘️🙏.

Please share our campaign with your family and friends

The cost of monthly treatment to buy treatment and painkillers for my injury is $ 700 A bag of flour costs $250 and is the main source of food for my family and is required daily to make bread. We live in a tent and my children are shivering cold. All I can do is pray.

Please, don't just watch or share so a small donation can be a lifeline for a hungry or sick child who is suffering🙏🙏

Please help us get out of life's crises and the woes of war

Read more about us in the following link, please donate to us on it and share it 👇

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Thank you to everyone who supports us in these difficult circumstances, thank you for your humanity and sympathy with us, may God make you happy throughout your life 🙏

Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #99 ) ✅

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[karuuhnia]

TF2 Chapter 7 - Karuuhnia's analysis

Christmas came early for the TF2 fandom this year, didn't it? (Well, it really came 7 years LATE if we're completely honest lol)

It was an emotional rollercoaster and had a happy, wholesome ending and conclusion for both the mercs and for us. Several mysteries from the past comics were resolved.

And you know me: I love to overthink and overanalyze every bit of lore and story that I can get my fingers on lmao

So here's my essay:

A) Solved mysteries

1. What the Administrator was planning

It turns out: There WAS no evil plan of world domination or whatever. Just pure hatred for a man who ruined her life - apparently. It's been so long she doesn't even remember the reason. But the thought of revenge was enough to fuel her every life choice.

And to think, it all could have ended in the 1850s already - if it weren't for smart-ass Gray Mann and his narcissistic tendencies to brag about his knowledge and plans. (How he himself figured this out is never explained.)

He was the one who introduced the Administrator to Australium in the first place, around 1850ish. If he hadn't told her that it could bring people back from the dead and prolong life, the senseless Gravel War would have ended with Blutarch's and Redmond's natural deaths.

Well, on the other hand we must be glad that the conflict didn't go on even longer.

Since Dell stated that none of his family members ever went into the room where Zepheniah was kept, the Administrator must have build all of that herself, right? That would certainly explain why it looks so crude and consumes so much Australium. I mean, look at this construction and then compare it to the one Dell built:

The Mark 5 machine gave her ~6 months of life for just a tiny flask of Australium. Imagine what would have happened if one of the Conaghers had improved Zeph's machine as well! She could have kept the zombiefied corpse in a living nightmare for many centuries more instead of burning through tons and tons of Australium so quickly. Good thing it didn't come to that.

2. Who helped the Administrator

Well, we didn't get a clear answer, but I think it's safe to conclude now that it was the Administrator's elite merc teams A-E that obtained all the Australium during the 6 months Miss Pauling and the TF2 team went off the grid. Which only further proves that the Administrator did not really care for Pauling at all and only came to her and her "team of rejects" as a last resort, after everything else had failed.

It's really heartbreaking how much Pauling admired her and wanted to be her trusted second-in-command while the Admin apparently never even invited her to the secret HQ. Nobody there even KNEW of Team Fortress after all. It was such a relief to see Pauling let go in the end and choose a free life instead.

3. Scout's second chance

Well, not really a mystery here, but I really like how Scout had an epiphany that there were other girls out there that would like him as he was and moved on from Miss Pauling. There was no heartbreak, no animosity, no rejection. They are still friends and support each other! I love it!

And then Scout even saved all of humanity by having sex with several women so that God wouldn't have to destroy the world! What a great, selfless guy he is!

I really love Spy and Scout after the time skip. No more bickering, no more annoyance, no more mean comments, just kindness. Spy is also so sweet to his grandchildren! ADSGFSDAF

I hope they all remain in contact and on good terms. Because let's not forget: Scout's health isn't good and he even has a confirmed death date. Which is only 8 years into the future of 1979.

All of his orphaned children would still be minors at that point. When it comes to that I hope Spy and Scout's Ma can take care of their grandchildren.

4. What Charles Darling and Maggie were planning

Darling stated he wanted to obtain Australium in order to make his rare animals immortal and in return he would get Saxton's company back.

The way Maggie always reacted to Saxton led me to believe she knew Darling was planning something ELSE and she felt bad for not telling Saxton and having to betray him in the end:

But turns out, I probably just misinterpreted Maggie's facial expressions. She looked so sad because she loved going on adventures with Saxton again and just hated the thought that he'd go back to Mann Co. afterwards.

I'm very happy that in the end Saxton let go of the company and spent the rest of his days punching wild animals with his true love! (Although he might have started a war again, now between Reddy and Bidwell lol)

B) Unsolved and new mysteries

However, as much as I loved the last chapter, I feel there are still a lot of things that were never cleared up or adequately explained.

So after re-reading every single comic and update page these are some other things I still find inconclusive:

1. Olivia Mann's mother

Not really that important to be fair, but still: Is she really the biological daughter of the 150 old mummy Gray Mann? If so, who is the poor woman who… mated with him and where is she now?

Or was Olivia adopted, abducted or grown in a lab? Well, at least she gets to live a happy and free life now and is provided for by the dad who stepped up. Good on you, Saxton!

2. Darling's knowledge

Back to Darling real quick: Why DID Maggie start working for her nemesis?

HOW did Charles Darling learn about Australium's properties and the Administrator's history?

There is also the fact that the Mann triplets' mother was a Darling!

These things were never brought up again! Whyyyyyyyy?????

3. What was all the set-up with the TFC mercs about?

The TFC mercs made several ominous remarks that made us believe there was more to them:

Both Virgil and Greg were trying to say something interesting, but then got cut off before the revelation. And especially TFC Heavy talked about dying as if it was an immediate danger to all of them. Sure, they were old, but they were still going strong, being able to kill all of the Admin's elite teams after all.

4. Fred's destiny (and identity?)

In Chapter 6 Spy disguised as Fred, trying to trick Virgil. After being found out, the two had this conversation:

Spy managed to impersonate Fred really well apparently. That means he must have studied Fred's personality, mannerisms and way of speaking before he went to Virgil. That also means he must have spent quite a while talking to and studying Fred. Did he and Sniper capture and interrogate him? But more importantly: What happened afterwards? Tbh, they probably just killed him off-screen after learning what they needed.

Because I no longer believe that Fred was Dell's father, as much as that sucks. It would have made for a great plot point and possible conflict within the team.

But Fred obviously had no idea about anything related to Australium or the immortality machines.

Since later on in Chapter 7 Dell says that neither his grandfather, his father nor he himself ever set foot in that basement, we can conclude that they all knew that the Administrator was hiding something nefarious down there. Which also means they WORKED for her and thus must have also worked on her immortality machine. So it makes no sense that Fred would not know anything about that if he really were Dell's father.

That still leaves us with the question: Why was young Fred in the photo with child Dell? Or WAS this guy even Fred?

I mean, a lot can happen in 40ish years between those two pictures:

But my new headcanon now is: These two are not the same person. TFC Medic had to replaced by our beloved Dr. Herbert Ludwig (still not over that name btw lmao), so who says the original TFC Engie wasn't replaced too at one point? TFC Heavy was very obviously worried about his friends dying one after the other.

Virgil said he knew Fred since before the war. So maybe after Dell's father died/left the team, Virgil told TFC Heavy about his old comrade Fred who also happened to be an Engineer. And only then Fred became part of TFC.

But as I said, that's just my headcanon. In reality it's probably just an inconsistency over the many years of convoluted lore. lol

5. Soldier's cave, covered in Australium

In A Cold Day in Hell Soldier and Zhanna have the following conversation:

First it's a stink-barn, then he claims to be homeless. But in Chapter 7 Heavy suddenly says that Soldier lives in a cave.

And it turns out there is tons of Australium in that cave! Now of course I wonder: When did Soldier move into that cave and where is it located? We were always told that Australium only exists in Australia. But I highly doubt this American patriot owns a cave in Australia. Also, how is it possible that the Admin and the elite mercs never managed to find this cave? Did they just not bother to look in America because all known Australium is in Australia?

So in return, does that mean that Australium is NOT exclusive to Australia after all? If so, there could still be hidden caches of the stuff anywhere on Earth. At least the Admin and Gray Mann are no longer around to collect it and Miss Pauling does not look for it anymore either. The only one who still has an interest in it is Charles Darling. Him again...

6. Soldier with the photo of the Mann family

Quick reminder: This is the only version of the family photo we'd seen up until this point:

But when Soldier and Merasmus are held by the mafia and the wizard asks him why he needed so much money, Soldier pulls out an intact, unteared photograph of the Mann family!!!

His thumb conveniently covers up the still unknown person standing in the middle. How did Soldier obtain this photo? How does he even know who everyone is, considering he's, well, Soldier?

Could he have any relations to the unknown person in the middle? And why DOES he need so much money (granted, it was only like 20 $ in the end, but still lol)?

Am I just overthinking this? Has anyone an explanation??? Is he and if yes, HOW is Soldier connected to the frigging Mann family??????

*cough* Anyway. This concludes my analysis of the TF2 lore. For now. If I come up with more things or if Valve ever decides to continue the story (That was a joke, haha, fat chance), I will come back to this. In the meantime, thank you for reading this and please feel free to share your own ideas and opinions! I'd love to read all of it! ❤️

[lacydollette]

BLESSING IN DISGUISE — CHAPTER SEVEN

PAIRING lovely kook!reader (x rafe) x sarah cameron

WARNING(S) flashbacks, reader being confused about her feelings, sarah giving advice, slight fluff, explicit language, chocking, nightmares

SUMMARY torn between your resurfaced feelings for rafe and the attraction towards jj you can’t seem to find peace. so when Sarah notices your unusual quietness she can’t hold back anymore and convinces you to tell her everything.

“This,” Sarah said, taking a sip of her wine and pointing toward the sunset, “is exactly what I needed. No drama, no chaos. Just us, the ocean, and wine. Perfect.” You leaned back on one of the deck chairs of your little yacht, sunglasses perched on your nose. Sarah stretched out beside you, her blonde hair catching the light as she adjusted her bikini strap and sighed satisfied.

You smiled, letting yourself relax into the moment. It had been a while since you felt this kind of peace. Between the chaos of your own feelings, fights, and everything else, a girls’ day with Sarah felt like a breath of fresh air. But as the hours passed, the silence between you began to shift. You could feel Sarah’s gaze flicking to you now and then, her usual easygoing nature replaced with curiosity.

Finally, she sat up, setting her glass down with a soft clink. “Okay,” she said, her voice cutting through the calm atmosphere, “spill.” You turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” Yet you knew exactly what she was referring to.

She hesitated, biting her lip, “The argument with Rafe at the bonfire. What the hell happened? I mean, I know Rafe can be… Rafe, but that was different. There’s something going on, and don’t even try to deny it.” You sighed, leaning back in your chair and pulling off your sunglasses. “Sarah—”

“Don’t ‘Sarah’ me,” she interrupted, her tone firm. “I’m your best friend. I can tell when something’s up. And this thing with Rafe? It’s definitely a thing. So spill.”

You hesitated, mind racing. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Sarah—you trusted her more than anybody. But saying it out loud, admitting everything, was coming to the conclusion that the whole thing was real, and that you’d have to deal with it. “Look,” Sarah said softly, scooting closer to you. “I get it. Whatever it is, it’s complicated. But I’m not here to judge. I’m here because I care about you. And I know my brother can be..a dick. So please, just tell me.”

Her words finally got to you, and you exhaled shakily, setting your glass aside. “Fine,” you murmured. “But you’re right—it’s complicated. Really complicated.” Sarah nodded, her expression encouraging, and you began.

“It started at Midsummers,” you said, your voice quiet. “There was this fight—Rafe and I. I don’t even remember what sparked it exactly, but things got heated. He said some things, I said some things…and then later I wanted to clear my head and took a walk, that’s when I came across Nate.” Sarah’s brows furrowed. “Nate? As in Nate Thompson?”

You nodded, a chill running down your spine at the memory. “Yeah. At first, I thought he was just trying to be friendly, you know? But then…he wasn’t. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I didn’t know how to get away.” Sarah’s hand shot out to grab yours, her grip tight. “What did he do?” she asked, her voice trembling with anger.

“He cornered me,” you admitted, your throat tightening. “And I was scared, Sarah. I didn’t know what to do. So in the last second I texted Rafe…and he showed up.” Sarah’s eyes widened, and she leaned closer. “What happened?”

“He pulled Nate off me,” you said, the memory flashing vividly in your mind. “And when Nate wouldn’t back down, Rafe…” You swallowed hard. “Rafe beat the shit out of him. I mean, really went after him. I had to yell at him to stop before he went too far.” Sarah let out a slow breath, her grip on your hand loosening slightly. “That’s..fuck. That’s horrible. Is this why he’s been so on edge?” she muttered.

You nodded. “After that, things got…weird between us. There was this tension—like, we were both trying to pretend it wasn’t, but it was there. And then he started pulling away. He got colder, more distant. I tried to talk to him, but it was like he’d put up this wall, and I couldn’t break through.”

“And then the bonfire,” Sarah said, piecing it together. “Yeah,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “I saw him standing there, and I couldn’t just ignore him anymore. I tried to talk to him, but he shut me out—again. And when I brought up everything that’s happened, he threw it back in my face. He even accused me of…of messing around with JJ, when it’s clearly not his business.”

Sarah’s jaw dropped. “Rafe said that?” You nodded, feeling the sting of his words all over again. “He was so angry, Sarah. And I was angry, too. It turned into this whole thing, and then JJ got involved, and…yeah. You saw how that ended.”

Sarah didn’t respond, just offered you some simple comfort which you appreciated more than anything. You looked down at your hands, unable to meet her eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” you admitted. “I keep telling myself I should walk away, that he’s too much. But then I think about everything he’s done—how he’s tried to protect me, even when it hurts. And I just…I can’t let go.”

Then, out of nowhere, Sarah turned to you, her voice cutting through the quietness. “Do you still love him?”

The question hit you like a punch to the guts. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You glanced away, suddenly finding the wine glass in your hand much more interesting than the intensity in her eyes. “Do you?” she pressed, leaning forward slightly.

You sighed, setting the glass down and running a hand through your hair. “I…I don’t know, Sarah,” you admitted, though the hesitation in your voice betrayed you.

Her expression softened, but only slightly. “You do,” she said quietly, her words not a question but a statement. “You still love him. Even after everything.” You didn’t respond, and that silence said more than words ever could. Sarah shook her head, letting out a dry laugh. “God, you’re both so hopeless,” she said, though her tone held a trace of affection beneath the exasperation. “He’s put you through hell, you know that, right?”

“I know.. Believe me, I know.” you whispered, your voice heavy with emotion. “And yet, here you are,” she continued, gesturing between the two of you. “Sitting on this yacht, tearing yourself apart over him. And I know him, too. Rafe’s probably doing the same thing right now, in his own messed-up way.” You looked up at her, surprised by her understanding. “You think he…?”

“Loves you?” Sarah interrupted. “Yeah, I do. As much as he’s capable of loving anyone, at least. But that doesn’t mean he’s good for you, or that this whole back-and-forth is healthy for either of you.”

She paused, studying you closely. “And what about jj?” she added, her voice softer now. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way you’ve been spending more time with him. It’s like he’s your safe place when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.”

You bit your lip, the weight of her words sinking in. She wasn’t wrong. JJ had been a constant presence in your life these past few weeks—funny, kind, and steady in a way that Rafe never was. But as much as you cared for him, your heart felt tangled up in something far more complicated.

Sarah reached out, taking your hand in hers again. “You need to make a decision,” she said gently but firmly. “This thing with Rafe and JJ? It’s not fair to either of them, or to you. You have to figure out what you want, and who you want to be with.” You swallowed hard, the weight of her advice settling heavily on your shoulders. “What if I make the wrong choice?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah squeezed your hand, her expression softening. “There’s no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ choice here,” she said. “There’s just what feels right for you. But you need to figure it out, because dragging this out is only going to hurt everyone involved.”

You nodded slowly, the truth of her words sinking in. “Thanks, Sarah,” you said, your voice quiet but sincere. “Of course,” she replied, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “And no matter what happens, I’ve got your back. Always.”

As the yacht gently rocked beneath you, you leaned back into your chair, staring out at the endless ocean. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you were starting to see things clearly. Now all you had to do was make up your mind.

“Come on,” Rafe whispered, his grin infectious as he grabbed your hand and pulled you away from tannyhill. “Let’s get out of here before my dad ropes us into some lecture about responsibility.”

You followed him, laughing as the two of you sprinted past the yard and down towards the beach, leaving behind the faint hum of the party. The adrenaline of sneaking away had both of you giggling like little kids.

Eventually, you stopped in a neighbor’s backyard, Rafe doubling over and panting like he’d just finished a marathon. “Out of shape already, Cameron?” you teased, leaning against a fence and crossing your arms. “What are you, an old man?”

He looked up, still catching his breath, and gave you a glare. “You wanna say that again, smartass?” You smirked, tilting your head. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I fetch your cane, Grandpa?” Rafe straightened up, a mischievous glint in his eye.

But before he could reply, the sudden flicker of a porch light snapped you both to attention. The faint murmur of voices drifted through the air, and without thinking, Rafe grabbed your wrist and pulled you behind a small garden cabin. “Shit,” he whispered, his voice low and hurried as the two of you pressed up against the wooden wall.

Your heart pounded in your chest, not from fear, but from the electric tension that crackled between you. Rafe’s body was close—too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the sweet scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of tequila. His hand was still on your wrist, his grip firm but not rough. “Nice move, genius,” you whispered, your lips inches from his ear. “Now we’re stuck.”

“Shh,” he hissed, turning his head toward you. His face was so close that you could see the faint freckles dusting his nose, the way his blue eyes glistened even in the dim light. “I’m just saying,” you murmured, your tone playful despite the situation. “Maybe next time we sneak off, you pick a better spot for a pit stop.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned in closer, his chest brushing against yours as he peered around the corner to check if the coast was clear. The porch light still on, but the voices were moving farther away. “We’re fine,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. But neither of you moved.

The air between you grew heavier, the space shrinking until it felt like there was nothing left but the two of you. You could feel the rise and fall of his breath, the faint tremble in his hands as they hovered near your sides. “Rafe, I—“ you mumbled, your voice softer now, uncertain. He looked down at you, his eyes searching yours. And then, before you could say anything else, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or harsh, but it wasn’t gentle either. His lips were warm and firm against yours, his hands finding their way to your waist as though they belonged there. The world fell away, the faint hum of the party, the glow of the porch light, the thrill of sneaking away—it all disappeared.

For those few moments, there was only him.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you were breathless. “Well,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “that definitely shut you up.” You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart still racing.

But just as the sweetness lingered, something shifted.

Rafe’s gentle, playful expression began to change. His warm blue eyes darkened, clouded with something sharp and unrecognizable. His soft hands, the ones that had held your waist so carefully, moved to your throat, his fingers curling tightly around your neck.

“R-Rafe,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. The world around you darkened. His grip tightened, his once familiar touch now terrifying, cutting off your airflow.

His face loomed closer, but it wasn’t the Rafe you’d kissed behind the garden cabin. His features twisted with anger, his lips curling into something cruel, exactly like the last night you had seen each other before you left. “You think you can leave me?” he hissed, his voice sharp and menacing.

Your chest burned as you struggled, your hands clawing at his wrist, desperate for air. The world a big blur, and just when you thought you’d pass out, it all shattered. You woke with panic in your bones, gasping for breath, your chest heaving. The darkness of the room pressed down on you, but it was real, you were fine.

Turning your head, you found Sarah lying peacefully beside you, her blonde hair splayed out over the pillow, her soft breaths steady and calm. The sight of her brought you back to reality, the terror of the dream slowly fading away. You pressed a trembling hand to your throat, reassuring yourself that there was no hand there, no pressure cutting off your air. It was just a dream.

Just a dream.

LINKS .ᐟ series’ masterlist

LTAGS .ᐟ @gibson-g1rl @glitterybombshell @beausling @rafescokewhore @rafeysbunny @rafesweetie @rafeslacy @rafesangelita @rafey-baby @starkeysprincess @starzify @drewspinkbunny @whinyangel @nativegirltapes @littlelamy @lizziesangel @httpsdrewstarkey @cherrygirlfriend @lilithblackkk @maybankslover

[mehiwilldoitlater]

No pressure but really liked the yandere macaque so what if reader was found by some miracle by DO or by someone else and had escaped the mountain what could Macaque do then🤨

You thought that after the torture, the Kills, and the so many bodies, you would finally get used to the violence, that in the end you had at least enough stomach to not throw up. Instead, while he was holding the severed head of another monkey, with his annoyed face that seemed like the one of a parent that is scolding his child, you had to put your hands on your mouth to resist.

"So," he said, with a calmness that made you shiver, "should I know something about this young one?"

Your eyes Met those two orbs, now completely drained from their life. You averted that gaze, feeling your guts moving and contorting in your body. He stopped closer, moving that head to the left and right.

"He was roaming not far from her... saying something about searching for the Lost One... and about some message..."

You started to shiver uncontrollably; the knowledge struck you like thunder. He looked at you, sighing, reminiscing about how easy it was to see how ready you were.

"May I know something about it? ...Have you sent some message around?... Did you?" He kept that head high ,treating it more like something trivial, as a broken vase, not what was left of a living being. You tried to cower in the corner, trying to not look at it, to not smell the blood, or hear it dripping on the floor. You felt his grip on your stump, a bad habit that he had when he started to get angrier, harshly twisting you around, forcing you to stand closer to the head and to face him and your own actions.

"I'm talking to you! Answer me, did you or did you not send a message?!"

"YES! YES! I'M SORRY, PLEASE, I'M SORRY!"

You tried to cover yourself with your good arm, afraid of some kind of repercussion. Instead, he just sighed, and after a loud thump, the head that was thrown away, he gently guided you into his arms, caressing your shoulders, comforting you in that sorry state. You didn't dare to even lament yourself in your cry; you were too afraid to even make a sound.

"I know, Draling... I know you're sorry... I know you hate this thing... but I have to..."

His voice was sweet like honey and soft like a breeze, and everything seemed so wrong on your ears, and yet you kept listening to his words.

"I can't let them hurt you... and I can't let you leave... the more you try to run, the more I have to kill them; do you understand?"

He spoke as if he were talking with a child that had made a mistake or misbehaved. It was his trick, tripping and guilting you to make you believe that it was your own responsibility if he had killed every kind of monkey that had tried to rescue you or even crossed those mountains. You even started to believe those lies.

"That's why you must stop sending messages...stop trying to get away from me...understand?"

You nodded; your hiccups were stuck in your throat and made you jump here and there, or it was his hands that were roaming too far?

"You must feel so bad... Let me take care of you..."

And while he kissed your neck, you started to zoom away in your thoughts. It was easy that way.

///

Every time he left, you used those moments to find a way to escape. You thought that, if you were lucky enough, you would be able to get as far away from him, cover your tracks, and maybe be able to find some help.

Then you lost your arm, and then he started to bring dead people that had found your messages...

You stopped; those moments were made now for something else. You liked to stay in the grass, alone with your thoughts and the soft wind on your skin. You preferred to close your eyes.

It was easy like that, to imagine being so far away from that nightmare. And, like that, you could pretend to sleep, and, at his arrival, he would just take you back to your bed and leave you be.

You hated his kindness. It felt wrong, used to make you feel guilty about your resistance to his love. But even the idea of loving him was just wrong...

You didn't want to love him, but what if giving in was your only way to finally stop the pain?

Abandon yourself to him... Maybe it was easier that way...maybe it was the only way...

When you felt a pair of steps coming closer to you, a sigh escaped to your left. He had come back sooner than the others. Days, he must have found food quite easy this time...but...what was that?

You kept your eyes closed, and yet you wanted so badly to open them up. You felt a rush of adrenaline, like a calling. Your heart pounded in your chest...was that a panic attack?! No, no. It was different! You still could breathe correctly!

Was that another of his tricks?! No, it didn't seem like that...

And this feeling seemed familiar... When did you feel it before?

You decided to finally open up your eyes, and when you did, you felt like a warm wind had rushed towards you.

Instead of those black pitch eyes, you met a pair of brown and warm eyes; they seemed gentle and ready to start a fire at every second. His ragged clothes moved with the small breeze, showing the many signs of struggle that he just endured climbing the mountain, fighting the demons and monsters. A brown chocolate fur, a few scars and cuts here and there...

You met him before... the day that you realized that the Macaque had lied to you.

He had found you,After months from your first encounter, he had found you! The first time he saw you and the macaque, he knew something was wrong, especially since he had found out your role in this story.

He was searching for you even before actually meeting you, sensing your presence on these lands; the calling of his Destiny resonated with yours.

And then you had disappeared again... No, the macaque made you disappear, holding you away from whoever tried to rescue you. The many heads on pikes that he had encountered along the road were quite the message...

But now that he was there, in front of you, all of the fear and thoughts were gone. What really mattered was that he had found you at least.

He made one step ahead in your direction, and suddenly you awoke from that trance. The images of the many monkeys killed by your captor came like a cold wave. No, he wasn't supposed to be here! 

In one move, you rose up and started to walk away as fast as you could, trying to reach the house.

"WAIT!" His voice followed you like a prey; his bare feet resounded behind you, "Don't go! Please, I'm here for you!"

"Stay away!" You try to control your voice: "You can't stay here; go away!"

"I can't! I've been searching for you for so long! He had taken you away and—

"I know what he did! Now leave me be!"

"Stop! Look at me at least!"

He had reached you, and his hand tried to grasp yours to hold you and stop you, but he felt nothing.

In his fingers, he didn't feel your warmth or your flesh, only air and the fabric of your robe.

You felt his grasp only when the sudden pulling of your sleeve made the hand slip from your shoulder, revealing, still covered in bandages, the clean cut of your arm. The macaque had ripped it off from your body, and to save you from infections, he had to cut the damaged tissues and use a piece of red-hot iron to cauterize. And he was kind enough to let you sleep while he fixed the damage that you have done by denying your love for him.

"...what...what is..." His confusion met your look, and a river of ideas came when he saw those pitiful eyes. You tried to cover your mouth, feeling tears coming in your eyes, full of shock from the fact that he had seen what the macaque did to you. He let go of your sleeve, looking at your good arm holding your trembling body, and attempted to calm you down from what had happened. You didn't dare to look at him; you wanted just to hide in that house and never come out in fear of being seen again.

He didn't need to hear you; he was smart enough to know what he had seen and to understand that your reaction was connected to your injury. 

"Did he do this to you?"

A small movement in your shoulder was a clear response. 

He felt a fire in his chest, diacamping in his veins like a poison. His breath became heavier, and his hands squeezed to the point that the knuckles had turned white. He felt a growl trying to escape from his chest.

The macaque did this to you... He had hurt someone who had no fighting skills, and the monkey knew that he did it because you had done something that the macaque had disliked.

Maybe it was the connection with the Bián Huá, but even you were still now a total stranger; he felt a deep sense of hunger for what had just happened to you.

He was furious, and he felt shame for not being able to protect you. Now, he wanted nothing more than to crack open the head of that macaque.

But seeing you like that made him remember that he wasn't there for him. He took a big breath, trying to calm down a little...his face turned back to a gentle one.

"...I'm...Sorry... I wanted to meet for so long... Tell me how I can help you!"

"I don't need your help!" You were fighting with every being of yourself to speak without crumbling, "I need you to leave before he comes back!"

You wanted to believe that you were used to the pain and the fact that many had died because of you, but you were a terrible liar. You wanted to be strong enough, cold enough, maybe an insensible bastard, but no, you had to feel all of the guilt. And this connection between you and this monkey, you felt that if anything was going to happen to him, that would have been your breaking point.

But he... he knew that he would have never forgiven himself for leaving you behind.

"I can't just leave you like this!"

"Please," you begged now, "if he comes back and finds you, he'll... he'll kill you! I can't... I can't take it anymore... Please leave!"

So it was this? You feared that he couldn't handle the macaque?  In some way he should have felt his pride hurt, but in the way that you were saying that there was nothing of it.  All those monkeys killed on the road, all of them came for you, and he had made sure that you felt responsible...

"I'll leave," he said with some determination, "but you have to tell me this to my face! Tell me that you want to stay here, and I'll leave you alone! But just tell me NOW in my face!"

You thought that maybe, with enough time, you would be able to accept that fate. You really wanted to be strong enough to accept the pain, to indulge in his own fantasy, and to protect others from his sick love.

"...I don't want you to trust me... it's too early for that, but just know that I would protect you..."

But you know you weren't; you weren't strong enough to hold it together, to not crack in a spiral of madness. It was easy to succumb, but you didn't want that at the same time.

And there he was...After months, he came. After the fear and tears, he came. Despite the danger, he came.

He came for you. You could just accept everything; you just needed to tell what you needed...

But, with tearful eyes, you met his pleading gaze.

"...help....me..."

///

A whistle echoed around, a simple melody. Heard some time ago from you while he was walking towards your shared house. 

He was in a good mood. After that last problem from the other day, he had found fewer creatures roaming his mountain, meaning that his warnings were making their effects. He wanted to create a small heaven for you and him, and no one needed to find it. 

He had found some good pheasants ,fat enough to be roasted and being served as dinner! He Remembered the last time you had pheasants, it was the day that he had decided to finally stop starving you after your silent treatment. You were so cute with your check-all stuff up on food!

He started to humming happily, thinking about your feast when he stopped in his tracks, his heart perching around, his face now painted in a worried expression. One of the main reasons that he had chosed that mountain was that it was quiet, very quiet, and his warnings, still unmatched from everyone, could get a single cricket even from km apart.

His power didn't allow him to have eyes in the future like in the past, but he was still capable of hearing from a great distance, listening to conversations from houses apart, hearing the songs of the phoenixes in the skies, and hearing the cries of dragons. He had learned that what had led him to calm in his stressful nights was your heartbeat, a rhythm that reminded you that you were there and alive.

That rhythm now was absent.

Leaving the pheasants behind in his rush, he started to march upon the mountain towards the house that he had always made sure was harmless for your own good.

No, no, you couldn't possibly be that broken already. Yeah, he had always been harsh, maybe a little too rough with you, and took drastic measures when needed, but he wanted you sane and safe! He wanted you complacent towards his affection, never too far in his own madness!

Did you find any poisonous herbs around the area? No, he was smart enough to have cleaned around, even from the most harmless mushroom! Did you harm yourself?! Maybe you broke a window, or maybe you had used part of your robes and...

The single image of your hanged body made his muscle move faster. When he reached the house, the fear of the worst made him rip away from the wall the door, throwing it away like it was nothing. He called for you, frantically searching for a single trace of you everywhere.

He found nothing; the lunch that he had left for you was still on the table, completely cold and untouched. The bedroom was empty; everything was like he had left it in the morning, just like in the living room and in every other part of the house. When even in the bath he had found no trace of your lifeless body, a sigh of relief escaped from him.

You were not dead; you were alive; simply, you weren't there...

Ah...you weren't there...you just disappeared... His teeth start to clench, feeling his own blood boiling in his veins. You had finally managed to leave the mountain, but how?! Even with a body with both arms, it was suicide trying to leave that place, especially without a trained body and agile like his own!

Like a monkey, he exited the houses and started to sniff around. He detected his own smell, your own, and... another scent... a male... someone that he had met... the Destined one...

He started to growl; he had found his secret heaven; he had found you! That DAMN MONKEY! He had really ruined everything he had conquered, right?! Can't he just let this one slide, eh?! Leaving you alone with him?!

Then, his growling stopped...he started then to chuckle, then a laugh, then more, more strong and sinister.

You really didn't learn your lesson, huh? You were enjoying seeing so many of his own kind dying and getting killed by him, eh? Darling, you were just as evil as him...

He retrieved his weapon and prepared a few other trinkets, slowly approaching the road and searching for your scent and heartbeat and the stench of the other one. You wanted to get chased? Fine, if that was the way to show his love to you, then he was ready to rip his rival's heart out of his chest and gift it to you.

He was coming for you, and you had better be ready.

[stoned-frog]

Alright I totally forgot about that dream but I found what I wrote (it's from October sorry lol)

"Ok the dream

Basically in the dream at the start Target was like technically Nightmare's right hand man but he was treated like absolute shit, I vividly remember a scene where Dust and Horror were called into Nightmare's throne room sort of??? And Target was like chained up to the throne kinda beat up, lookin angry asf and when Nightmare starts talking while sitting on the throne and he grabs the chain to forcefully pull Target closer to him or like his leg and Target just whines in pain doesn't even say anything, just pathetic broken man

That's the scene I remember but I just know the whole thing with Target was that he was just constantly humiliated and stuff (idk what's my problem with the chains I often use is in vent art to either describe a person, situation, feeling whatever)

And then Cross joined the gang

And the whole situation changed around with now Cross being the main victim

And Target was jealous. Because he felt less needed, less useful and like yk everyone else thought he's fucking crazy😭 because of course how could someone miss being abused and humilated??

I think that's it for the dream, my mind is really telling me to work on that toxic concept more, the concept that Target misses the toxicity and the abuse and everything cuz he thinks that's what he deserved and like the whole thing that Target doesn't treat Nightmare like a normal person he thinks he's some kind of god therefore can make decisions what treatment he deserves and be a little simp"

Yep, that's that AND I LITERALLY WOKE UP WITH THIS STORY IN MIND LIKE WHAT???

⚠️toxic/abusive relationship⚠️(killermare)

@beforetheendowo this got really long so I'm making it its own post answering this

I absolutely agree with the pushing boundaries part, Target would do or say things that obviously make Nightmare upset, he would openly shows that he knows stuff about Nightmare he probably shouldn't, showing that Night wasn't careful enough in maintaining his perfect image and he would never admit to it but it makes Nightmare very unsettled and sometimes even scared.

Target would also sneak in on Nightmare to just watch him sometimes. He isn't that interested in him but it makes Nightmare tense up and Target can see behaviours he's never seen before, he can see that this perfect powerful being can be bothered by a pathetic mortal like him. That way he can get to know Nightmare better and use it to his advantage but also it makes Nightmare more prone to lash out, he can never take a break because at the back of his head there's always this irrational fear that Target might be watching him. Basically Target pushes bounderies, gives him the silent treatment and annoys Nightmare because it amuses him to see his god vulnerable and that makes Nightmare more stressed leading to more abuse

Adding to all that I also think about Target being toxic because he worships Nightmare in a way, he believes that he is a god, a being far higher than him therefore Nightmare's actions are what he deserves. He knows he is used and abused, objectified and molded like "his new owner" wants it, but he just submits to it. He was already used by his AU's anomaly (Chara or whatever, I don't like that aspect of Something New, that it's just Chara) and when he thought he was free they got replaced by another abuser. He might think this is just his fate? But yea back to my idea-

Nightmare can never change or even reflect on his actions because Target doesn't resist, he follows orders, bows to him, never responds violently to him. It only takes one word for Target to throw away whatever he was doing and come to him like a dog.

I'm talking mostly about Target lol but that's cuz Nightmare is just so obviously abusive both verbally and physically, gaslighting and making others think they need him it doesn't need as much attention? But I will say what I think anyway

Aside from all you said, I also imagine Nightmare would use him as a kind of stress toy, when he needs to blow of some steam, or Target just says one word too much he might get thrown across the room or pinned to the nearest wall by his neck and yelled at. Some time ago I drew some things that might illustrate what I mean

Here and here

Also this is just for my headcanons but Target introduced himself just like that to both Dust and Horror and that's what they call him (in all versions I made for the gang) but in this one only Nightmare refers to him as "Killer" and of course, Target never corrects him. When Dust or Horror call him that either by accident or to tease him he always corrects them and it sometimes even turns into an argument but with Nightmare, nothing. Not a word.

[belialjones]

lol I did a bunch of stuff today and took some pictures and I was gonna share the pictures here and on IG and then I felt like I would rather throw myself down a fucking staircase than try to explain anything I do on social media in photos ever again so

[knightelf]

scrolled through my very first ever tumblr blog and cried my damn eyes out. Found an old video of me and my omi watching a movie when she lived in her apartment and i would come over every weeknd to spend it with her. Dated 10 years ago last month.

as well as just some generally upsetting reminders of some parts of my teens i must have just repressed cuz man. i forgot it realoy was that bad even before the shit really hit the fan

[unproduciblesmackdown]

another billions analysis thing is like so yeah while it's like "hmm let's think about power" but then doesn't really do that, what's there to offset that is "but let's think about what these people with billions(tm) are doing because of their like personal feelings & lives & whatever" and the personal feelings are the thrilling journey of s1 men following the compass of their ego & the way their personal lives matter at all beyond this is about their Relationships. except the relationships are also actually about the power billions isn't really thinking about because the ones billions focuses on involve this Fealty where one person does whatever and the other is just stuck with it. sure they might air some unhappiness sometimes, but if it's not punished or ignored from the start anyway, it'll still end up so inconsequential that it's as though it never happened. and what's left to offset the way that can't mean anything if you again take it for granted that of course people are just locked into such relationships & best they can do is fix it from the inside or embrace it as is? is "do you think this character is a winner among losers & you want to see them pwn everyone & do whatever they want forever" & if you like all the media the creators do like

[catchmewjsn]

.

[yuyu-bubu]

girl why you so horrors

homophobia all fun and games until im reminded my parents are genuinely homophobic and they'll always hate this part of me no matter what i say

[mollyrolls]

highlights from my notes app. 30/79 and i couldn’t even finish the last chapter

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ AKAASHI KEIJI

undone ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

she would do anything for her best friend. including, but not limited to, pretending to be his girlfriend, so he can get the attention of the girl of his dreams, as much as it hurts

PAIRING: akaashi x fem reader

STATUS: complete

TAGS/WARNING: unrequited love, fake dating, angst, pining, friends to lovers, university au, language, alcohol use, warnings may change

MDNI: will contain adult content (marked in chapter)

TAGLIST: complete this form to be added

PREVIEW: real

CHAPTER ONE: evidence

CHAPTER TWO: complications

CHAPTER THREE: close

CHAPTER FOUR: truths

CHAPTER FIVE: plans

CHAPTER SIX: act

-> SEQUEL

[cuteniarose]

It’s almost 6 a.m and I can’t sleep because I’m being plagued by thoughts of The Latest OC

[camellia-thea]

writing things down because it's the way i process.

i think the thing that's been getting to me lately is that i've hit the "utter despair" stage of depression, where motivation drops because long-term hope has just been dropping so rapidly since i got sick in april.

it's hard to verbalise how i feel and how it's different from before, but i'm worse, and it just makes me think about the future i'd planned, even with my disability in mind, feels so much less sustainable. and in turn, since i feel closer to graduation than before, i'm afraid of what life will look like when i'm not being loaned money to live on. i can't work, i can barely study, and i'm scared. i'm so fucking scared.

i've always hated uncertainty. i hate feeling out of control. and so the thought of not being able to follow plans or even having ideas of what i even can do outside of said plan is being terrifying. it's also infuriating, and frustrating, and deeply upsetting, to think about all the things that could've been. and it's almost ironic, how in an ideal world i would be working. i would be able to follow my passions. but i can't.

and this world is so far from ideal. aotearoa's disability policy is so broken, i've already had a specialist for my condition tell me point blank that, unless i am bedbound permanently, i most likely won't qualify for financial aid. i really didn't want to think about it when it happened, and she was so willing to try other options and try and find support and solutions for me. and at that point, i was pretty sure that i'd be able to work from home and try to freelance. but now it all feels so impossible and uncertain.

and with all of this hopeless fear, it brings the urge to self sabotage. i could just. drop out. i could just. give up on anything that i could try to do to pave my way. it's not necessarily suicidal; i don't want to die. i just. don't want to exist as myself for a bit.

i've always sought out escapism when things get rough. losing myself in books or imaginary worlds. it's so easy to slip into something where everything could be okay, but it always makes coming back worse. it's like seeing the polls about universal basic income, or magically receiving money. it makes me feel a little sick, the things i'd want to do, knowing how impossible it all is. it just makes the inadequacy of our society and our systems more stark in my eyes.

i'm scared about money, and i'm scared about the world moving on without me. i'm scared about never leaving the house again and i'm scared of leaving the house. i'm scared to be a burden but i want to be taken care of. most of all i want to stop worrying. i want security, i want stability, and none of that feels possible.

and i think the worst, most ironic, thing, is being in mental distress triggers my illness even more, which just solidifies my distress into something even more tangible.

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

repeating my therapists words in my head like the bike message in pokemon

[thriftedtchotchkes]

how do you sleep?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel's always there to comfort you with his words and a warm bed after a nightmare, but tonight, you need a little more

warnings: 18+ MDNI, jackson era, soft!joel, comfort, undefined relationship, getting together, mentions of nightmares & insomnia, smut, unprotected piv, slow/intimate sex, creampie

word count: 3.3k

“Whas’wrong?”

You didn't mean to end up here again. It's the third night this week you swiped Joel's key from under the doormat and found yourself standing in his bedroom doorway.

"Can't sleep," you reply, barely above a whisper. Exhaustion seeps into your voice, permeating your limbs the longer you remain standing.

He already knows why you're here. Ever since you, Joel, and Ellie arrived in Jackson and were offered homes of your own, rest evades you more than it ever did on the road. It's too quiet here, and your racing mind fills the silence with the horrors of a life lived in constant fear.

You know you're safe now. You know that, but it's not enough to convince your body or quell the ever-present tightness in your chest telling you to run, to hide. Your fears are more potent in the dark, and the shadows creeping from wall to wall have sharper edges. Teeth that threaten to tear you apart and rip away everything and everyone you've fought so hard to protect.

The walls and floorboards creak with life that shouldn't be present in an empty, two-story home—too big for a single person, and yet still yours—and quickly begin to sound like impending death.

Nowadays, more often than not, you seek out a different kind of shelter. The familiar, comforting embrace of the man who kept you warm and protected through harsh winters and from monsters prowling in the night. That's where you belong.

Crisp bedsheets rustle in the dark and then you hear Joel pat the mattress twice—an invitation to occupy the space beside him, the one he always leaves empty just in case.

"Well, c'mon then. Hurry up," he grumbles, still half-asleep. But he isn’t frustrated. He's tired, just like you, and he'll probably sleep a lot better knowing both of his girls are resting soundly under his roof.

You trudge over and waste no time burying your face in his bare chest, breathing in pine and cedar wood shavings before exhaling a heavy sigh of relief. Throwing a leg over his thighs, you mold into him, rubbing your cheek into coarse curls and marveling at the calm, steady rhythm beneath you.

It feels good to be home. You're not sure why you let Maria give you an entire house to yourself when everything you could ever want or need was right across the street. Every time you end up back here, you wonder. And every time you leave, you wish you'd stayed.

He wraps you up in his arms and tugs you into his side, murmuring your name with soft lips that tenderly caress your forehead. They're so warm, just like the rest of him, and you find yourself aching to feel them on yours. It's a line neither of you have ever crossed, but tonight's been rough.

For what felt like days, you were forced to watch as your worst nightmares came to bloody fruition. You were dragged through the most brutal outcomes of events you already survived and could do nothing more than pray you'd wake up soon. When you finally came to and checked the clock, it had only been an hour and a half since you'd passed out. The moon was still high in the sky, taunting you with the promise of more. More dread, endless brutality.

Joel can make all of that go away, if only for a few hours. He always does, but tonight...you don't want to talk about it tonight. You don't want to think about it, about anything at all. You just want him.

You'd feel selfish asking for more if there wasn't already something between you. Something nurtured and gradual that's been building for months, beginning on your travels across the country and coming to an unignorable head here in Jackson.

Back then, it was stolen glances while you bathed together in streams and fleeting touches in your shared sleeping bag under star-filled skies. It's more intimate these days. He holds your hand when you're anxious, and you kiss away the frown lines and frustrated wrinkles that mar his skin.

Every day, you skirt the line between platonic companionship and whatever's starting to simmer below the surface. You're scared to hope he feels it too, but the thought of remaining in this undefined middle ground scares you even more.

The furnace drifting in and out of consciousness next to you radiates with an addictive heat you've told yourself to ignore for a long time, but it's quickly becoming an impossible feat. Pressed into his side, you're trying and failing not to writhe against him. But he's starting to notice.

His hips jerk every time your core drags against his bare thigh, a slow, repetitive grind you really shouldn't continue, but feels so fucking good combined with the slick pooling between your legs. You should stop—really, you should—but his breathing's changing and hitching, catching in his throat every time the growing tent in his boxers meets the friction of your inner thigh.

Then, he gasps something cognizant and urgent, and you know you've been caught. His hand snakes down to your ass and traps you against his side with a grip so firm, plush skin spills between his fingers.

“Woah, hold on there," he breathes out heavily, and his gaze drops to yours curiously. His eyes are wide open and alert, shining with the faint reflection of moonlight streaming through an adjacent window. Bright and yet pitch black as his sleep-addled brain struggles to catch up with his body. "What's goin' on with you tonight?"

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, debating whether or not to ask for his help. His expression is gentle but otherwise unreadable, and there's a chance this could go very, very badly. Maybe you'd be better off apologizing, but you don't want to. You're not sorry for needing him.

And the longer he waits for an answer, the more his body convinces you that he wants the same things you do. His hand is still on your ass, kneading as he urges you to rock into him, but he doesn't seem to realize he's doing it. Then, his thigh flexes and a rush of wetness coats your already soaked underwear. His expression falters, and you know he can feel it.

His voice is tighter when he speaks again, but that tinge of concern is still there. He wants to make it all better, but he can't unless you tell him how. Your hand tenses where it lies on his chest, and he covers it with his own.

"What can I do? Just tell me how to help you—whatever it is, I'll do it," he murmurs, brushing his thumb reassuringly across your skin. You tilt your chin up and suddenly you're close enough to breathe his air. Closer than you've ever been and yet still not close enough.

"I need you to...," Fuck me. But it sounds too crude. A quick fuck isn't what you need right now. You need to be full of him, to hold him deep inside you and keep him there for as long as this night will allow. "...make me feel safe again."

"Tell me how," he repeats as you struggle to bite back a moan. He's working you against him intentionally now, encouraging you up and down his leg, and it's making your brain go a little haywire. "What do you need, baby?"

"Joel," you whine at the endearment, an intense heat building at the apex of your thighs. That's new. You want to hear him say it again, to devour every word as he buries himself inside you over and over. You will him to understand. "I need you."

He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, steeling himself before nosing into the hairs at your temple. The gesture is so tender and affectionate even as he bucks into your thigh, and it's painfully obvious how hard you're making him. He nods slowly and plants a soft kiss on your forehead, his chest rising and falling more rapidly than before.

"Okay, baby. I got you," he murmurs, his lips trailing down to your eyelids, then the apple of your cheek. "I'll make it all go away, alright? M'gonna take care of you."

And you believe him. He rolls you onto your back and you gasp as his entire weight presses you into the mattress. It's more than just comforting. You feel protected. He's shielding you from this horrible, broken world, somehow managing to prove that there's still goodness to be found. And it's on top of you, broad and strong, and wanting you just as badly as you want him.

Big hands cup your cheeks and his lips meet yours, so much different than the familiar press against your forehead or the top of your head. You're in unknown territory, but he guides you carefully and moves slowly, taking the time to explore and savor. The taste of spearmint begins to overwhelm your senses as the kiss deepens, and you lick into his mouth impatiently, already craving more.

But after years of quiet observation, Joel knows better than anyone how to temper you. Ducking down to bury his face in your neck, he kisses along the underside of your jaw, regaining control of the pace with a sharp, halting suck. And while he refuses to let your urgency rush him, he still allows your hands to roam his skin and tug at his boxers, letting you take what you want—like his only goal is to make sure this lasts long enough for him to fulfill his promise.

A disgruntled groan bubbles in your throat, and you feel him chuckle. "Y'know, patience is supposed to be a virtue," he mumbles, amused, his beard scratchy and grounding against your skin. You huff in response.

Tonight doesn't feel like a night for virtues. Not when things are finally changing in your favor. After so much time, so much running, you actually have somewhere to go—and stay. You're not running away anymore. You're moving towards something that feels real, and dependable, and safe, and you're doing it together. And now that you're so close you can taste it, you're done waiting.

"You're really gonna start caring about virtues now?" you ask skeptically, slipping your hands past the waistband of his boxers to grab his ass.

He hesitates, then huffs out a quiet laugh. "Fair enough."

And with that, you both know the time for talking is over. Something shifts and you're on the same page, ready to take as much as the other is willing to give.

Joel begins to drag your shirt up to reveal more, but suddenly feeling stifled, you take over and remove it completely. The look on his face makes it more than worth it. It's not the first time he's seen you naked, but as his eyes rake over your bare curves, it feels like it could be. Reverently, he returns his lips to yours, kissing you deeply before charting a path lower.

His mouth feels hot as he laves and nips across your collarbone, and he shimmies further down the bed until he's just barely ghosting the swell of your breasts. You gasp, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a bruise below your nipple and soothes the sting with his tongue. Licking a wide stripe past the darkening mark, he captures the bud between his teeth, another hand sliding up your stomach to cup your other breast while he alternates between swirling and sucking.

Your entire body feels like it's on fire. The ache between your thighs worsens the longer he continues, but instead of squeezing them together for relief, you wrap your legs around his waist and tug him onto you. By now, you're so wet, there's no way you're not soaking right through your underwear and into his boxers, and you hope he can feel it. If your increasing volume isn't enough of an indication that you need him inside you, then maybe this will be.

He lets out a pained groan into your chest, and you clench in satisfaction. He immediately grinds down, thrusting into you like he's forgotten about the layers of clothing still separating you. You don't bother to remind him.

Bucking him off, you quickly wrench down your underwear then reach for his, yanking them off while he sheds his t-shirt. Your fingers close around his cock before his shirt hits the floor and he startles before melting into your grip, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting around a cross between a sigh and the neediest whine you've ever heard.

You feel that telltale whoosh between your legs again, and after pumping him a few times, you guide him toward your entrance. In the back of your mind, you know you're taking a risk without a condom. You should be safer, more responsible. But it's Joel. It's always been Joel.

His eyes shoot open once he realizes where you're leading him, but you only bite your lip and nod, your expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. An unspoken agreement passes between you, a quiet understanding cultivated through years of friendship and now something more. Then, he presses inside and your mind goes blissfully blank.

No more horrors, no more fear. Just Joel keeping his promise and doing exactly what you trusted him to do. He encompasses you entirely, pressing the length of his body flush against yours as he works himself into you. The stretch was nothing you ever could've anticipated, but it grounds you in the present moment. It's everything you told yourself not to hope for when you showed up on his doorstep tonight.

His movements are slow but powerful, and he rests his forehead on yours, eyes alert and acutely aware of every change in expression. The intensity of his gaze and the slick sound of him burying himself to the hilt should make you self-conscious—it's all you can see and hear, but that's the point, isn't it? To get lost in the way he drags so perfectly against your walls and grinds his hips into yours on every thrust, slow and steady.

He's attentive, cataloging whenever he makes you moan a little louder or your eyes roll, and repeats it again and again until you're writhing underneath him. Your nails rake down his back and scratch at his scalp, and he jerks forward whenever you're a little too rough, hitting so deep, it feels like he's grazing your cervix. But the longer he continues to give you everything you want, the more his body trembles with the effort of holding himself back.

You know Joel, and you can tell when he's resisting an urge. His biceps tense where he's propped on his forearms, bracketing your head, and there's so little space between you, you can feel his abs flexing every time he plunges back inside you. He needs more and you want to give it to him.

Lifting your head, you bridge the tiny gap to meet his lips. "Joel, c'mon. You can fuck me harder than that, I'm not gonna break," you mumble between open-mouthed kisses. That catches him off guard.

He accidentally lets himself go for a thrust or two, and you're cut off by a moan, your walls squeezing him so hard, it's painful. Somehow, you manage to recover just long enough to gasp out the rest. "It's okay if you need something from me, too. Just take it. I trust you."

For an agonizing moment, Joel pauses to observe you, waiting for something in your eyes to contradict the permission you just gave him. But when he doesn't find it, he shakily exhales the breath he'd been holding and his head drops to your shoulder. The groan that follows rumbles so deeply in his chest, it makes your stomach drop. Then, without warning, his hands are gripping your thighs and he's rutting into you like a caged animal finally set free.

There he is. The man who never hesitated to gun down anyone who threatened the safety of his loved ones and did whatever it took to bring his girls home.

Recognition washes over you and fills you with a familiar feeling of security. It's something only Joel has ever been able to give you. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his hair, hoping to return even a fraction of that feeling.

As he gives into his body, he starts to ramble, his words muffled and lost to your delicate skin. But you don't need to hear him to know what he's saying. With every thrust, the bed frame rattles and gets the message across loud and clear. Your heels dig into his back, encouraging him forward, begging him to keep going, and he obliges, quickly reduced to helpless grunts and curses.

The room gets increasingly hotter and more humid, and the cool air flowing through the window isn't nearly enough to provide relief, but neither of you seems to care. You're a little in love with the way your bodies slip together, sweat and slick intermingling seamlessly.

Everything is so wet, and it feels incredible—your skin against his, your walls pulsing around his cock. He's molding into you, so close that you can't do much more than swivel your hips into his, and it's sending you hurtling toward the edge faster than you can fully process. The coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs your clit just right, and when he adjusts the angle to fuck you deeper than before, you hit your peak.

You dissolve into a whimpering mess beneath him, desperately riding out your orgasm as he groans and abruptly bites down on your shoulder. Releasing your legs to grab your waist, he forces himself impossibly further inside you and grinds into your spasming walls until he's coming with you. He gasps his way through it, stilling while he lets you milk him dry, then collapses on top of you and gathers you in his arms.

For a while, you both struggle to catch your breath. The mattress is bare save for the fitted sheet, your clothes, pillows, and blankets having been kicked or tossed onto the floor. It feels nice like this—to savor the winter air cooling your bodies and to just be held. Without letting you go, Joel lifts his head to kiss the teeth marks he left on your shoulder apologetically and then shifts higher to press his lips against the underside of your jaw.

"You alright?" he asks gently, his voice a little gruffer than usual from the exertion.

"Mhm," you hum, nosing into his temple. "More than." He sighs and almost sounds relieved.

The thought makes your heart ache. If he's worried he crossed a line, well. He did. You both did, but it was a long time coming and you don't regret a thing. You squeeze him a little tighter as if to tell him, and he allows himself to melt into you briefly. Then, he draws back to cup your cheek and guide your lips to his.

He kisses you slowly, taking the time to appreciate the sensation of your mouth against his without any urgency. "Feel better?" he murmurs after reluctantly parting from you. You keep him close.

"I don't think we have to worry about any more nightmares tonight," you reply with a small smile. He returns it, eyes crinkling fondly, then rolls you onto your sides to settle in for a good night's sleep.

As you start to drift off, you hear him chuckle and mutter something under his breath that you don't quite catch. But it sounds a lot like, "Might be time for you to finally move in."

thanks for reading!