#and i get not wanting to confirm if abuse is happening to protect yourself from said past abuser and whatnot

[hideaway-or-safehouse]

my least favorite thing about having autism + CPTSD is how a trigger of mine can be barely touched and then im silently crying on/off for the rest of the day as i have an autistic shut-down

[skz-bee123]

Telling Skz your ex texted you

Stray Kids reaction

A/N: So here's another reaction after a very long time. I hope it tuns out alright, I haven't gone through and edited it so if there's any mistakes, no there isn't. Jisung's one is again quite short, I don't know why this keeps happening to me but I find him very hard to write, hopefully a one-shot of him will make up for that (I've got a few ideas, I just need to write it out first). For Seungmin's part, the ending is a bit iffy but other then that, enjoy!

Word count: 5.2K

Bang Chan

"Hey babe?" You called out to your boyfriend who was in the kitchen getting himself a drink.

"Yeah?"

"My ex texted me, what should I text back?"

It goes silent for a couple moments before you call out to him again, "Channie?"

Loud footsteps make their way into the lounge and you see Chan, with a look of annoyance on his face as he makes his way over to you.

"What the fuck does he want?" Chan says as he stands in front of you.

"Just wanted to know if we could meet up." You respond.

Chan goes quiet and you wait for him to speak, watching him as you see his brain ticking over.

"He...wants to meet up?" Chan finally speaks.

You nod your head in confirmation.

"Hasn't that dickhead already put your through enough already? Why is he wanting to talk to you again?" Chan sits down next to you and grabs your hand. "I'm not going to be one of those boyfriends that tells you you can't go, because ultimately it's your choice. But...sweetheart...he put you through hell, he doesn't deserve to see you ever again."

Chan sighs before speaking again, "like I said, it's your choice. Either way I support you, I just personally think that you should ignore him, block him, just get rid of him."

You stay silent for a while before your phone dings again. You look down at it before pulling up the contact of your ex. You block him.

"I did it." You finally speak up.

"What did you do?" Chan asks, grabbing your hand.

You give Chan's hand a squeeze, "I blocked him, I don't know why I hadn't in the first place."

"It's alright baby, I get why you couldn't before."

"Yeah...but I've got you now so, I don't need him anymore."

"That's right, you've got me. And I'm not going anywhere."

Lee Minho

You had gotten a text from your ex.

You chewed on your bottom lip, making it raw and hurt as you agonised over what to do.

You knew you should just delete the messages that kept coming in but just couldn't work up the courage to do it.

You and your ex had not ended on good terms, he was borderline abusive and it took you awhile to work up the strength to leave him. When you finally did, you weren't the same person anymore.

You often got scared by loud shouting and raised hands always made you cower. Minho, you boyfriend of 7 months, knew all about this. He knew about the type of person your ex was and helped you break out of your shell again. He helped you become the person you once were before your ex took that away from you.

Despite all of this, Minho has never been a super protective boyfriend. He never really made a move to go out of his way to protect you, he's never actually really had the need to. Until now.

You were starting to feel anxiety making its way through your body, it clung to you in the most uncomfortable ways possible, squeezing the little bit of air out of your body.

You wanted to tell Minho, why? You weren't even sure yourself. To vent? For advice? To get him to deal with your ex? You don't know. All you know is that your shaking hands and fast-racing heart needed to be with him.

You make your way into your room where Minho was laying on your bed, watching his phone.

Minho looks up at your over the top of his phone before he goes back to watching. A few moments go by and you don't move from your spot in the doorway and Minho pauses his phone and places it down beside him, sitting up and looking over at you.

"Y/n-" Minho goes to say but is cut off from your phone ringing.

You look down and see your ex trying to call you. A sniffle escapes from you as tears well up in your eyes.

"I-" You try to get the words out but you're overcome with tears.

Minho stands up from the bed and makes his way over to you, he grabs your hands and pulls you over to the bed, sitting you both down. Minho gently wipes away your tears and looks at you with a concerned look on his face. "What happened?" He asks.

"My ex texted me." You whisper out, looking down at your hands.

A moment of silence passes before Minho speaks, "What did he say."

"That he wants to talk. He wants to meet up with me and apologise for how things were. he wants to see if we can work things out and get back together."

It goes quite between you two and you look up. Minho's face is blank as h stares off to the side, whatever he's thinking or feeling right now, you can't tell.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you with this." You mumble out.

Minho's face whips around to face you and he opens his mouth. Before he gets the chance to say something, he is once again cut off by your phone ringing.

You feel even more tears well up in your eyes as you see it's your ex trying to call you again. Before you even get the chance to decline the call, your phone is swiped out of your hands.

You watch as Minho answers the call and places it up towards his ear.

"This isn't Y/n." Minho says. There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. "Her fucking boyfriend dickhead."

You watch as a look of pure anger forms on Minho's face, "now you listen here you fucking piece of shit. You contact my girl one more time and I promise you that I'll find you and make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?"

Minho seems to be satisfied with himself as he ends the call, blocking the number of your ex. He throws your phone over to the side of the bed and runs a hand through his hair before looking at you.

"You're not a bother Y/n."

Hearing this confuses you, "huh?"

"Before that son of a bitch called, you said you didn't want to bother me with this. Y/n, you're not a bother to me."

"I just...I just didn't know what to do. You just never really seem to care about this stuff so I just assumed..." you trail off.

"I don't care?" Minho looks at you with a hurt look on his face, "you really think I don't care about you?"

"NO!" You quickly scramble to explain yourself. "I know you care about me but you just never really seem to care about you know...other guys...and like what sets me off and that. I'm sorry, I don's really know what I'm saying."

"Baby..." Minho starts, bringing his hand up to your face. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way because it's far from true."

"Huh?"

"Before you met the boys, I had a long talk with them. Of course I didn't tell them everything but a few basics. You know how they can get with new people they meet, they're loud and touchy. I didn't want them to overwhelm you so I told them to just watch themselves. Even now, sometimes I know that they can get a bit much so I step in. I step in and make up reasons to excuse us because I know you need to have some space but you're too scared to say anything."

"I'm always watching you baby. Always." Minho continues. "It kills me to know what you went through and i know that although you're doing so much better, somethings things set you back. And that's okay. But I know that these setbacks really affect you, so I watch you. I watch so that if you need me to step in, I will. I always will, baby."

"I'm sorry, I really didn't know." You say.

"It's alright baby. You mean to much to me and it hurts me to know you're upset."

You push Minho down onto his back and lay on top of him, putting your head underneath his head, snuggling into his chest. You feel his arms come up to wrap around you protectively as Minho places a kiss on the top of your head.

"I love you Min." You whisper out as your eyes fall close, exhausted from today's events.

"I love you too baby, so much more than you'll ever know."

Seo Changbin

It first happened when you were getting ready to go out for breakfast with your boyfriend, Changbin. You had just finished putting your coat on and was waiting for Changbin to come out of the bathroom so that you both could leave when you got the text.

At first you didn't quite know who it was from, simply thinking it was from a wrong number, so you just brushed it off, not giving it a second thought.

The second time it happened, you and Changbin were walking back from breakfast. It was this time that it clicked to you who exactly was texting you. Blocking the number, you thought that that would be it. Of course though, you were wrong.

All throughout the day you had been receiving text messages from you ex, some pleading for you to take him back, others threatening you for leaving. It left you with an uncomfortable feeling inside of you and you were not quite yourself.

You thought you had been quite good at keeping it to yourself, but your boyfriend, who had noticed right away that something was up, thought that you would come to him when or if you needed too.

But after going to entire day with you looking over your shoulder, Changbin was currently very worried. Worried enough that he decided that if you weren't going to say anything to him, he was going to have to make the first move.

You both were currently sitting down on a park bench, just watching the scenery, it was just reaching sunset.

"Baby?" Changbin calls out to you.

"Yeah?" You turn towards Changbin with a smile on your face.

"Something's been bothering you all day and I've been waiting for you to come to me about it but you haven't. I just don't like seeing you so uncomfortable."

"Nothing's wrong."

"You've been constantly checking your phone and looking over your shoulder, I'm worried baby."

You start to chew your bottom lip and Changbin notices this, he reaches a hand up and gently pulls your lip out from your teeth with his thumb. "None of that love, you'll just hurt yourself. Tell me what's wrong?"

You open your mouth to say something but suddenly your eyes widen as you look over Changbin's shoulder and you're squeezing his hand. Changbin looks over his shoulder and watches a man walk towards you both.

Not quite recognising him but at the same time feeling that this man is somehow familiar to him, Changbin still protectively moves in front of you and watches as the man stops in front of the both of your. He completely disregards Changbin and speak to you.

"Babe, I've been texting you all day. How come you haven't been texting me back huh?" The man speaks.

Changbin turns towards you and all he sees is fear written all over your face and that's enough for him to feel an immense amount of anger well up inside of him.

The man steps forward and reaches out to grab your hand but before he gets the chance Changbin grabs his wrist.

"I don't know who you think you are. But she is not your 'babe'. Changbin speaks with venom in his words and pushes the man's hand away.

The man turns towards Changbin with annoyance, lacing his voice as he speaks. "And who are you?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm Y/n's boyfriend. And you are?"

"Whatever, Y/n babe. Comeback to me, yeah? We can talk about it." The man, who Changbin now recognises as your ex, takes a step towards you and at this Changbin stands up, shoving the man away.

"You take one step closer to her and I swear to God you're going to regret it. Leave and don't contact her again, do you understand?" Despite being shorter than your ex, Changbin was bigger.

"I said. Do. You. Understand?" Changbin says putting emphasis on each individual word.

Your ex nods his head before turning away and walking off. It isn't until your ex is completely out of sight that Changbin sits back down and turns towards you. Noticing the silent tears rolling down your face, Changbin pulls you into a hug.

"We don't need to talk about it now. But I think we need to have a talk later, yeah?" Changbin mumbles into your hair.

You pull away from Changbin and start to apologise. "I'm-" but before you could even finish your sentence you're cut off by Changbin.

No, none of that. Let's just go back home, make some hot chocolate and cuddle while we watch movies, okay?"

You nod your head at him and he stands up, gently pulling you up with him. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Hwang Hyunjin

"Jinnie?"

You wait for an answer only to receive none. You sigh and make your way over to the bed where your boyfriend was wrapped up in the blankets.

"Jin?"

You see Hyunjin's eyes look at you before he turns around so his back is facing you. You sit down on the bed next to him and tug at the blankets. You feel a smile form on your face as you feel Hyunjin tug the blankets back from you.

"Baby."

"Oh am I still your baby huh? I thought you had replaced me." As Hyunjin says this he turns to look at you. Noticing the big smilie on your face he just pouts. "And now you're laughing at me."

You flop onto him, wrapping your arms and legs around Hyunjin. "I'm not laughing."

"On the inside you definitely are."

"Okay maybe that's true but it's only because you're so cute."

Hyunjin narrows his eyes at you suspiciously.

"Baby, you know that I love you right

and that me texting my ex, who I am completely over by the way, would never change that? Beside you, my love, are a lot more handsome.” 

Hyunjin sighs and a smile finally makes its way onto his face. “I know. But it definitely doesn’t pain me to hear it again from you.” 

You roll your eyes at him painfully. “Well if that’s what it takes to stop you from your dramatics, that I’ll tell you over and over again.” 

“Dramatics?” Hyunjin looks at you offended. “I am NOT dramatic.” 

“Jinnie, you are the definition of dramatic.” 

“You know what? For that, I’m not speaking to you again.” Hyunjin gently pushes you off him and rolls over so he’s facing away from you as your laughter sounds around the room.

Han Jisung

“You’ve been staring at your phone for a while, is everything alright?” 

You turn to look up at Jisung who had asked you that question, you smile at him softly before replying, “Yeah, Minjun texted me.” 

“Minjun, your ex?”

You nod your head before looking back down at your phone, replying to a text Minjun sent you. 

Some time passes and you’ve noticed that Jisung has been really quiet, you look up at him to see him staring off, a spaced out look on his face. 

“Ji?” You gently call out for Jisung. 

Jisung snaps out of the daze he was in and looks at you, “Yeah?” 

You move closer to where Jisung is sitting and grab his hand, rubbing your thumb over his. “You were staring into nothing, just wanting to make sure you were okay.” 

“You…your ex.” Jisung mumbles.

“What about him?” 

“How come you’re talking to him?” 

“Oh, you know how he ended up dating one of my friends after we broke up?” 

Jisung nods his head. 

“Well he wants to propose to her, just asking me for some advice on how to go about it.” 

“Oh.” You see Jisung visibly relax and you place your head on his shoulder, snuggling into him. 

“You don’t have to worry Ji, I would never leave you.” 

“I know, I guess I just got into my head a bit is all.” 

With the hand that’s holding Jisung’s, you bring it up to your lips, and place a kiss on his hand. “I know my love, that’s why I’m always here to bring you out of it when you get too far.”

You feel a kiss being placed on the top of your head as Jisung mumbles, ‘I love you’ into your hair. 

Lee Felix

You and your ex ended your relationship on good terms. At the time you both just realised that you weren’t right for each other and agreed that maybe being a couple just wasn’t good for you both.

Your ex ended up getting a promotion at work and had to go overseas for some time. You were extremely happy for him but ended up losing contact.

That’s why when your ex texted you out of the blue, you were surprised yes, but also happy. 

“What’s got you all happy, my love?” 

You looked over at Felix who walked into the living room where you were sitting on the couch. 

“Do you remember Minjun?”

This causes Felix to stop in his tracks. “Like..your ex Minjun?” 

You nod your head, “Mhm.”

“Yeah I do. What about him?” 

“He’s back in Seoul and asked if we could meet up.” 

“Oh.” 

You look up from your phone then and over to Felix.

“Lix.” You call out softly. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Felix smiles at you, although you could tell it was forced. “Are you gonna…meet up with him?” 

“Probably, it would be nice to see how he’s doing.”

“Oh..that’s-that’s good then.” 

A bit confused, you slowly nod your head. “Uh yeah, it is. Are you sure everything is alright?” 

“Yeah, everything’s fine, really.” 

You stare at Felix for a moment before continuing on. “Well, Minjun is officially back to live in Seoul now. He’s worked his way up and is now extending his branch more.” 

“You certainly know a lot about Minjun.” 

“We’ve just been texting, trying to find time to catch up.” 

Felix goes really quiet then. You could tell something was bothering him but he just wouldn’t admit it. Getting a bit worried you sit closer to Felix and grab his hands. 

“Lix..what’s wrong? And don’t say it’s nothing, because it obviously is something.”

Felix doesn’t look at you as he speaks. “You and Minjun.” 

“What about us?” You asked, slightly confused.

“You both were very close.”

“We were.”

“And he’s a very handsome guy who is back and wants to meet up with you.” 

It suddenly clicks in your head what was up with Felix. Reaching over, you gently grab Felix’s face in your hands and turn his face to look at yours. “Lixie.” 

“Yeah?”

“I love you so much.” 

Felix eyes widen as you say those words, neither of you had spoken them outloud before, so this moment meant a lot. “You love me?” 

“I do.” You nod your head. “Very much, and some silly old ex isn’t going to change that okay?” 

“Even if he’s really handsome.” 

“In my eyes, no one is more handsome than you. And I will fight anyone who says otherwise.” 

Felix lets out a soft laugh, “I love you too.” 

You smile at Felix before leaning in and placing your head on his chest, closing your eyes. You feel Felix run his fingers through your hair as you feel him relax underneath you. 

“Don’t overthink it okay? I love you a lot and that won’t ever change.” You say, your words muffled from your face being stuffed in Felix’s chest. 

“I know my love and I love you a lot too.” Felix says before closing his eyes and falling asleep with you held tightly to his chest. 

Kim Seungmin

You and Seugmin were just chilling on your couch. He for once had a few days off and chose to spend it with you. It was silent between both you had, had been for the past couple of hours until you broke the silence.

You had been debating with yourself whether or not you should speak to Seungmin about this, but seeing as he was your boyfriend, you decided that you should. It would honestly make you feel better if you did. 

“Hey Minnie?” You finally speak up.

Seungmin just hums not looking up from his phone but letting you know that you had his attention. 

“My um…my ex texted me.” 

“Nice try Y/n.” 

You look at Seungmin confused. “Huh?” 

Seungmin, still not looking at you, answers “I’ve seen this over tik tok. I know you’ve been getting me good with your pranks but this time it’s not gonna work babe.” 

You go quiet for a bit, silently cursing yourself for all the pranks you’ve pulled on your boyfriend. But this time, it wasn’t a prank, your ex had actually texted you and it had left you feeling uncomfortable. 

Not quite knowing what to say you just turn into yourself, staring off into space. 

“Y/n?” 

You look over to Seungmin to see him watching you. “Hmm?” 

“Something’s wrong.” Seungmin doesn’t ask, he states.

You don’t say anything and this causes Seungmin to move closer towards you, grabbing your hand. 

“You weren’t pranking me were you?” Seungmin asks. “Your ex actually did text you.” 

You just nod your head and show him the text messages from your phone. You watch as a wave of anger washes over his face before turning towards you, locking your phone and throwing it gently towards the side. 

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. 

“What are you sorry for?” 

“For always pranking you, it’s not..I mean I just…I don’t know. I guess I thought they were funny but…” You say turning your face away from Seungmin but Seungmin’s fingers gently turn your face to look back at him. 

“They are funny. I might not show it, but the joy it gives you when you successfully prank me, makes me happy. And besides, all your pranks are completely harmless.”

“I guess so.” 

You watch as Seungmin sighs before he leans forward and places a small kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds. “Why don’t you let me deal with this douchebag of an ex and then we can talk about all the pranks I know you have planned for the members, I’m more than willing to be an accomplice.”

“Yeah?” 

“Oh yeah baby, the two of us together? The boys are not gonna know what’s hit them, and let’s just say, it’s gonna be amazing.” 

Yang Jeongin

Your ex texting you had been completely out of the blue. Your relationship had ended because of the fact that he was moving, needing to move countries because of work and you couldn’t because your own responsibilities kept you where you were. 

So your relationship ended on mutual terms. Over time, the two of you did end up losing contact with each other, simply because of time differences and the fact that you had found someone new. 

You had been at the boys practice, having finished work for the day, you decided to drop by and watch them. And although you and Jeongin weren’t heavy on the pda, it was obvious that Jeongin needed you there. Not saying it out loud but sending you a smile and a squeeze to your hand was all it took for you to stay longer than orginially planned. 

It was while the boys were dancing that you recieved the text from your ex. 

The conversation with your ex went as so:

Ex: Hey Y/n, haven't spoken for a long while now. I’m currently back in Seoul and was wondering if you wanted to meet up?”

You: Oh Minjun! How have you been? It’s been what, 3 years since you’ve last been back to Seoul?” 

Ex: Yea, it’s been awhile. But the company has been quite successful and they’ve made a branch here in Seoul, I was made to move with it, and oversee it all.

You: Wow, that’s amazing, I’m proud of you.

Ex: Thanks! So about that catch up? What do you say?

You: Yeah of course! Just let me know what you're free and we can sort something out.

You and your ex organise a time and date to meet, you're so engrossed in the conversation with your ex that you don’t even realise that the boys are on a break and that they’re currently trying to get your attention.

“Y/n!”

Your name being yelled causes you to look up and you notice all the boys, obviously taking a break have sat all around you and are looking at you. 

“Yeah?” You smile at them all before looking over at Jeongin who was calling your name.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past couple of minutes.” Jeongin says. 

“Oh sorry Innie, Minjun texted me and I’ve just been making plans with him.” You respond, grabbing Jeongin’s hand and bringing it onto your lap, showing him the messages between you and your ex. 

“How’s it going so far?” You turn to the boys as Jeongin reads through the messages. 

“It’s going, that’s all I can really say at the moment.” Chan speaks for the rest of the boys who all nod their heads. 

“Well I know you all will get there, I mean, you always do.” 

Jeongin hands you your phone back, not saying anything as you continue to talk with all the boys.

“Ok, I know we all noticed it but I’m gonna be the one to say it.” Jisung says, interrupting the conversation you were having with Felix. 

You turn to Jisung with a raised eyebrow, “noticed what?” 

“Jeongin.” Jisung points towards him. 

“What about him?” You asked confused.

“I’m not the only one right?” Jisung ignores your question and asks his own. 

The other members all nod their heads. You turn to look at Jeongin but don’t notice anything wrong with him. 

“What’s wrong with Jeongin?” You ask again. 

“Ever since you mentioned at Minjeon? Minjin? guy, and then letting Jeongin read the messages the obviously happened between you both, Jeongin’s had his jaw clenched and a far off look on his face.” Seungmin finally answers you. 

“Oh Minjun? He’s my ex, he just texted cause he wants to meet up.” You smile, completely oblivious. 

“Your ex? You ended on good terms then?” Chan asks. 

You nod your head. “Yeah, he had to move countries because of work but I couldn’t leave home because of school and work. So we both decided to break up. He’s currently back in Seoul, for the first time in 3 years, just texted me and asked if we could catch up.” 

“What else did you guys text about?” 

“Oh he just mentioned about going to the cafe where we had our first date, it ended up becoming one we went to all the time.” You smile at the memories. 

“He also called you pretty and that he couldn’t wait to see you in person. Said he missed you a lot.” Jeongin speaks for the first time. 

You turn towards him with a confused look. “He didn’t call me pretty but he did say that he missed me and wanted to catch up.” 

You look at all the other boys and notice them glancing at each other. “I’m sorry, have I done something wrong?” You ask nervously.

“No love, it’s just that, he was your first boyfriend right?” Chan smiles at you. 

You nod your head, “yeah, he was my first and then i’ve been with Jeongin ever since.” 

“Alright well, from what I’m getting here, your ex doesn’t have a new partner?” 

“Not that I know of. But we haven't spoken in a while, so maybe.” 

“Okay, so let’s say he doesn’t, and from the look on Jeongin’s face after he read the messages. Your ex was trying to flirt with you.” 

“What?!” You exclaim in shock. You quickly grab your phone and read through the messages, realising that it did indeed look like your ex was flirting with you. 

“Jeongin I…I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. I wasn’t flirting with him, I promise.” You quickly rush to explain. 

Jeongin doesn’t say anything, just clenches his jaw. With a nudge from Chan, Jeongin speaks. 

“No baby, it’s alright, I know you weren’t flirting with him. I was just jealous I guess.” Jeongin reaches over and brushes some hair away from your face, letting his hand rest on your face. 

You reach a hand up and grab Jeongin’s one that was resting on your face. You smile at him before speaking. “I can cancel my hang out with him if you want?”

“No baby, you don’t have to do that on my terms. I know you were looking forward to catching up with him.”

“Yeah, but you’re obviously uncomfortable about that and I would rather just not go.” 

“Why don’t you just text him and make it clear that you’ve got a boyfriend? You can still go and hang out with him, just as long as he knows you're taken.”

“Taken but the most amazing guy ever.” You grin, a toothy grin at Jeongin.

Jeongin laughs under his breath a little before leaning forward and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you," he mumbles into your head.

“I love you too.” 

Plus a little extra of the boys looking at your both with heart eyes. 

“Omg they’re so cute.” 

“I know right, like can you believe we raised him to be like this.” 

“Yeah and Y/n, what a cutie.”

“Ahh I just wanna squeeze their cheeks.” 

A slapping sound can be heard as Minho looks down at Felix, Jisung, Hyunjin and Changbin who were fangirling over the two of you. 

“They're obviously having a moment, leave them alone.” Chan says. 

“Exactly, Jeongin’s very private when it comes to his relationship with Y/n, let’s just leave them alone.” Seungmin says. 

“Awww, but they’re just so cute.” Felix whines. 

“Yeah! Even you all must admit that this is just so heartwarming to watch.” Jisung says. 

“Maybe it is, but let’s leave them to it alright boys.” Chan says as he rounds the pouting boys up and walks them out the door. 

As all the boys leave, Chan and Minho linger in the door, a soft smile on both their faces. 

“They are really cute though.” Chan says to Minho. “Makes me want to wrap them up and protect them both from the world.” 

“I know how you feel, come on your old man, let’s get these kids some food. Then we’ll bring some back for the two lovebirds.” Minho says with a small smile on his face as both he and Chan leave both you and Jeongin in the dance practice room to spend some time together. 

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 15.5 (Chan)

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: How did Chan come to join SKZ?

chapter warnings: depictions of childhood abuse

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

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Bang Chan:

People have always said that violence is a learned trait, that your child doesn’t just come out of the womb with no sense of morality and the desire to do evil. This is something I can attest to. I remember personally the first time I ever saw my father lay a hand on my mother. 

When I was five years old, my father slapped my mother square in the face. And at the moment I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening or what I was feeling, but I knew that I loved both of my parents very much. I knew that hitting was bad, my parents told me that themselves–but then why would they engage in that very same act they told me that I should never do? I threw myself in front of my mother and told my father to stop. I had that innate desire to protect my own mother at that young age, even with a snotty nose and tear-streaked face, and though my own sense of right and wrong wasn’t completely developed yet, I knew it was wrong when my father hit me in retaliation. When I looked at my mother in awe, expecting her to say something or confirm that my father had just done a terrible thing, she had just turned a blind eye. 

So no, I didn’t come out of the womb with the desire to do evil, but if you were to ask my father, he would have sworn up and down that I was the devil reincarnate. And I sort of felt that that’s who I needed to be–I was the oldest of four. My parents continued to have children when we certainly could not afford to have them and they shouldn’t have continued to have them. There’s always that rage as an older sibling, the one when you know you’re the one who’s going to have to take care of your siblings and protect them from your parents that’s indescribable to anybody who hasn’t experienced it. 

So, whenever my father came home drunk and wanted to take out his anger on my siblings or my mother, I let him take it out on me instead. I encouraged it–and tried to become the target of his anger so that nobody else in my family would ever have to know what that feeling was like. I bore that burden all by myself when nobody asked me to and my father hated me for it. Countless nights I went to sleep beaten and bruised and likely concussed all to keep my family safe. 

If you were to ask me what my childhood felt like, I would have told you that I felt utterly powerless and alone. Although every choice I made was my own, it never really felt like it was a choice. Because how could I just sit back and let that monster lay a hand on my own younger siblings who can’t stand up for themselves or protect themselves?

To begin with, my parents didn’t bring home a lot of money. My father did some sort of hard labor and my mother was a teacher. With four children, we were just barely scraping by most days. When I turned 14 years old, I picked up a part-time job on top of school in order to help out with funds. 

When I was 15 years old, I caught my father cheating on my mother with a prostitute. I never was able to tell her what I saw. How could I? I loved my mother but she was very weak, fragile taking care of us four. She was already a shell of herself after putting up with my father’s physical abuse and drunkenness for years. I didn’t think she could handle the truth so I did not tell her. 

My father finally stopped beating me after that–but somehow I still felt like he was the one with the upperhand. 

One day when I was on my way home from work I heard some commotion in the alleyway outside of our house. Upon closer inspection, I realized that the whimpering lump of body I had come across was none other than my father who had been beaten to a pulp. 

I saw him weak and vulnerable in front of me, the life slowly starting to drain from his body. He begged me, his eldest son and his ‘pride and joy’ to help him and give him a second chance. I didn’t have to ask him to explain himself to me, but as if he knew he were on his deathbed, he admitted all of his wrongdoings to me. The large amounts of money he’s been taking out and borrowing, gambling away, how he had lost his job months ago and they had threatened to take the house if he didn’t pay for his life. 

“Oh shit, there’s a kid,” I had heard. A few men turned down the alleyway, holding bats and guns and a bag of cash. These were the men that had done this to my father. They made him look unrecognizable beyond repair. 

“He’s probably going to beg for his daddy’s life,” one of them laughed. 

“Me?” I blinked at the men, looking in between them and the form of flesh in the alleyway. “I was actually going to thank you. You’ve made this a hell of a lot easier on me.” And while my father was begging for his life, I bashed his skull in and felt good while doing it. And while the loan sharks watched, horrified but also a little bit impressed, I left my father in the alleyway as if he were just any other piece of trash. I would let the police find him and assume that all of his debts had finally caught up to him, and the crime would never be connected to me. 

I never felt any remorse. Not when my mother and siblings mourned his death. Never,

When I was approached by the same men that had beaten my father, I thought for a moment that maybe they would want me to take on his debt and I was already thinking about thirty different ways I could kill them and never get caught. On the contrary, they were hoping I could join them and become a loan shark. At the time, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with myself at first–all I knew was that I wanted to make a lot of money. But I realized quickly that that wasn’t the only thing that I wanted to do, nor was that all I was capable of. If I played my cards correctly, I could rise the ranks quickly and gain a lot of power for myself. I knew I didn’t want to be someone at the bottom of the chain, but rather someone delegating responsibilities and handing out punishments. 

I would weed out the weak and make the organization my own, in time. It would mean leaving my family behind–and I didn’t regret it, knowing that I’d be doing better things. I dropped out of school and never saw my family again, becoming a lackey for the same people my father owed money to. I spent years beating and killing people, proving myself within our own organization that I was worthy of being trusted, gathering my own people and intel and rising up in the ranks just as I wanted–until I killed the leader and took over his position. 

It was here that I was able to reframe things the exact ways that I wanted. We became SKZ, known for our organized and violent crimes, and slowly but surely my hand dipped into almost every bar, casino, and nightclub in the city. My business handlings and financials grew exponentially, and it was as if I had everything I had ever wanted. I was at the top and I had all of the power. 

Until I had met Yang Jungwon’s girlfriend, that is. When I had met with the opposing group ENHA for the first time, something about Y/N L/N drew me in in a way that I couldn’t explain, and she was temporarily out of my reach. I wasn’t below kidnapping or lying in order to get my hands on her, but it seemed I didn’t have to. It took two weeks of thoroughly watching her before Jungwon knocked her out–and I found her unconscious outside of ENHA’s bar. I immediately swooped in and rescued her, knowing that I could have her as my own and use her to my advantage to gain the upper-hand on the ENHA situation. 

I had felt powerless a lot when I was a child, but that was because my father had made me feel that way. Now, I felt powerless around Y/N, and it was because of the way she made me feel… Like I wanted to never let her leave my sight, like I should leave her trapped where she could never get hurt and nobody could ever see her or talk to her. And everytime she talked back to me, I got chills all over my body, and I went to sleep each night dreaming about ways that I could get her to submit to me, to be loyally mine and only mine. 

I realized I was in love and I didn’t like the way it made me feel.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

A/n: tomorrow comes our last mini chapter and then at some point on Sunday we will get our main chapter!! The finale will drop shortly after. I realized it made more sense as I was writing it for our mini chapters to appear back to back <3 thanks for the patience with my break last week

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

@zerefdragn33l ; @uhh-awkward-rightt ; @astudyoftimeywimeystuff ; @kaleigh-2002 ; @thatonexcgirl ;

@mindfreecreator ; @linoalwaysknows ; @velvetmoonlght ; @minahaeyo ; @crystalchuuu ;

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@kayleefriedchicken ; @notsojourni ; @hogwartslife64 ; @stilltrynafuckingtumble ; @ellelabelle ;

@melleus ; @hyun-bun ; @luminouskalopsia ; @leftovercigarettes ; @sabrina-gal-kpop

@ghostedgameplays ; @wealwayskeepfighting ; @meloncremesoda ; @Lovelino23 ; @honeyybbuubblleess ;

@blossominghunnie ; @sunlitangel777 ; @kkamismom12 ; @slaykanejvetsi ; @eastleighsblog ;

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@mbioooo0000 ; @lovemepie67 ; @lemonn015 ; @jaeminie-cricket ; @cookiesandcreammy ;

@jchotch726 ; @cookielixie ; @xxeiraxx ; @chuuyaobsessed ; @anime-addictot8 ;

@raspberrii ; @holdontoitwhileitlasts ; @korthbum ; @nxtt2-u ; @drinkingrumandcocacola ;

@changbokkii ; @1810cl ; @sillyhal ; @abcdefgiwsmctyeliaitaiglykoh ; @justastraymoa

[babyyblues]

Rescuer

Request: "Can you please do 21. "Get behind me. Now.? The reader, M/F and Daryl go on a run and they run into the reader's abusive ex. Daryl says #21 as he pushes them behind him. You can figure out how it ends. "

prompt 21: "Get behind me. Now" ​

Era: Prison (Mid-season 3) no spoilers

Summary: Daryl Dixion finds you all alone, and after learning about your past that reminds him of his childhood, he vows to protect you. So what happens when you run into the one who once made your life a living hell?

Word Count: 3,120

warnings: dv mentions (Slight description of violence), child abuse, twd violence and gore

A/n: OMG ITS HERE!!! I'm really excited to share this as it's my first piece for Daryl, and I hope everyone reading enjoys it. Please feel free to leave feedback and let me know if there's anything I can change to improve my writing!

The day Daryl Dixon first laid his eyes on you, he was sure he was about to watch yet another person get eaten by the undead. You were surrounded, breathing heavily as you did your best to fight off the walkers around you. Exhaustion hit you and you weren’t sure how long you could keep this up. Your eyes widened as a walker lunged at you, ready to feast on the flesh of your dirty shoulder but you breathed a sigh of relief when a bolt shot right through its brain. You let out a grunt as you turned around, shoving your dull knife repeatedly into the head of the last of the small herd, falling to the ground as even more of the smelly walker blood splattered all over your face. You stared down at the massacre, doing your best to catch your breath before looking up at the man who helped save you. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice horse from the lack of use. 

“You alone?” he asked, stepping toward you making you flinch and take a step back. 

“Um y-yeah,” you studdered, nerves raking through your body as your eyes shifted from the crossbow in his arms to his piercing blue eyes. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he watched your body begin to shake, his presence seemingly making you more nervous than any of the undead did. He watched as your knuckles turned white, hands trembling around the grip of your knife. Stopping in his tracks, he strapped the bow securely behind his back, placing his hands in your vision. 

“ ‘M not gonna hurt ya,” he confirmed, “jus’ makin’ sure ‘m safe.” You nodded slowly in understanding, hesitating before releasing the knife. 

“We have a camp bout half a mile back, jus’ need to ask you three questions ‘fore you can come.” You nodded again, waiting in silence.

“How many walkers you killed?”

“Lost count,” you murmured. 

“How many people have you killed?” 

“None,” you shook your head along with your answer, looking back up at the man. He nodded, looking around him before beckoning you to follow him back. After walking for what seemed like forever, your eyes landed on a prison and as ironic as it was you felt immediate relief for the walls and safety that you hoped you come from this building. 

Walking into the courtyard, you felt eyes on you causing you to want to shrink into your self and if the man noticed, he didn’t say anything. You walked quickly trying your best to keep up with his long strides, following him as he walked into the building. 

“Rick!” he called out, waiting for the man to come around the corner. Your eyes landed on another man, this one a bit taller and leaner, his hair sticking to his neck. 

“Found ‘er alone in the woods,” he grumbled, walking away leaving you to cower in front of the man you assumed to be Rick. 

“Rick Grimes,” he said holding his hand out for you to shake. You flinched at the sudden action, stumbling backward, your hand flying to grab the knife that sat in your waist, ready to defend yourself if need be. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he held his hands up in surrender, “what’s your name?” 

“Y/n, Y/n Y/l/n,” you answered quietly taking a deep yet shaky breath before releasing the weapon. 

“Daryl said you were out there alone?” he asked, earning a nod in return. 

“This whole time?” You shook your head in response, swallowing hard to find your voice again. 

“Got separated from my group not too long ago,” you told him, averting your gaze to the cold floor beneath you. Rick nodded. 

“Were you trying to find them?” You shook your head lightly. 

“I uh- I was just trying to stay alive.” Rick studied you for a second, the room falling into silence so loud your ears began to ring. 

“Well I assume you’ll want a shower and your clothes to be cleaned, I’ll find you something to wear in the meantime and then we can get you something to eat, we have plenty. I’ll have Daryl check in on you and help you get settled in if you want to stay,” he said before leading you through the cell block to the shower area. 

“I’ll send someone with the clothes, gotta pump this to get the water going,” he demonstrated the process for you before leaving you alone. You took a minute to look at the space around you before shutting your eyes and taking a long deep breath. 

“ ‘Scuse me,” you heard a young girl say gently. Regardless of how low her tone was, you practically jumped out of your skin at the noise.

“Sorry, I’m Beth, I just brought those clothes Rick told you about,” she rambled earning silence in return, “I haven’t been able to find a jacket for ya yet, and the shirt might be big but I’m gonna go look for a jacket for you.”

As she hurried off, you grabbed the clothing before turning back toward the shower, pulling the makeshift curtain closed, you felt the familiar sting of the tears that sat behind your eyes as you carefully stripped out of your clothing, stepping underneath the stream of lukewarm water. A hiss escaped your lips as you made your best attempt to scrub clean not only the dirt and grime that seemed to be embedded in your pores but the marks that seemed to never go away. Tears were now steadily mixing with the water, and you turned around to start the nasty and undoubtedly tiring work on your hair that had been matted to your head. 

After finishing, you slipped on the clothes Rick had promised, ironically folding the dirty clothes into a neat pile before exiting the shower areas. Daryl was sitting at the table, looking up when he heard footsteps emerge. 

“Took ya long enough-” his words died down on his tongue immediately as his eyes trailed across your figure. He took in the sight, a thin tee shirt hanging off your malnourished frame, deep spots of black and blue riddling the entirety of your upper body, the most gruesome being the taunting handprints that stained your throat. You looked back down, unwilling and unable to catch the piercing gaze of the man before you. 

Daryl’s breathing immediately caught in his throat, he knew these weren’t normal walker dents and bruises that people are accustomed to these days. How could he not know? He knew what it was like to be beaten on by the one who swore to love you. How you were unable to leave a situation that was literally killing you. And maybe this is why Daryl had such a soft spot for you, and why this stranger, whom he didn’t know the name of, caused a sea of red to flash across his vision. His jaw clenched as he made quick work of unbuttoning the top layer of his button-ups, to hand it to you. 

“Here,” he mumbled, reaching his shirt out to you, “might freeze out there.” Looking up at him slowly, you bit the inside of your cheek before grabbing the shirt, covering up your shame. 

“Thank you,” you whispered yet again. 

“Come on, we’ll get you settled in,” he said nodding up the stairs, intending to put you in the cell directly next to him. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, not enough for all of your bruises to fade or the nightmares to go away, and you honestly weren’t sure how you had worked your way to be as close with the front runners as you were. You had proved your strengths over and over again, going on runs with Daryl and helping out with tasks other than laundry and basic cleaning. You knew how to protect yourself, and as the trust built between you and the ones who surrounded you, you knew how important it was to protect them as well. 

You weren’t much of a talker, however, they felt as if they knew enough to trust you with the more important duties such as fench work and watch. You laid your blanket onto the chilled ground of the watch tower, preparing to start your shift. As you sat, you took a deep breath, thankful for the people around you, the security the walls held, and the brief time alone you had. It hadn’t been long before you heard the door open, but you didn’t need to turn your head to see who it was. It was always Daryl, the man who you undoubtedly grew the closest to, and the one who by far knew the most about you. You shifted over slightly, giving him plenty of space to sit beside you on the blanket so you could both watch out over the fields of the prison. 

“Just checkin’ in,” he mumbled as he took a seat, careful not to make any sudden movements in your presence. 

“I haven’t seen anything, just the walkers on the fence-”

“On you, I mean,” he admitted quietly. Your breath caught in your throat, your teeth immediately making their way to the inside of your cheek.

“ 'M fine,” you answered, earning a grunt in response. He turned toward you, catching your gaze before softening his features. He reached out to your shoulder, his aim for the same button-up he had given you. When you flinched, he retracted his hand quickly.

“Sorry,” he swallowed, “Jus’ tryna’ make sure you’re healin’. Can I?” Your breath was unstable, but you nodded closing your eyes tightly as he reached again for the button-up, this time lowering it just enough to take a look at the bruises that were across your arms. 

“Turnin’ yellow, should be gone soon,” he mumbled, taking his time to get closer and observe the ones on your neck, “this one’s gettin’ there, kinda blue.” He replaced the fabric onto your shoulder, returning to his original position. 

“My dad used to beat on me, I know what that looks like,” he confided in you, looking at you again, watching the way your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to spill. You sniffled, pulling your knees to your chest. 

“It was my boyfriend,” you whispered, the volume of your voice quickly leaving with the strong gust of wind that flew through the air. If Daryl didn’t still have his eyes on you, he might have missed it. 

“I was so stupid.” You let your head fall to your knees, the tears falling with it as your body began to tremble. 

“Don’t say that, ‘s not your fault.” You shook your head with a harsh swallow trying the calm the sharp pain you began to feel in the back of your throat. 

“No, n-no. I should have known better,” you mumbled. Daryl bit his lip and his tongue, fighting the anger that rose up in his body toward the one who did this to you. 

“Used to watch my dad beat my mom, guess towards the end of it I just thought it was normal then,” you spoke, your heartbeat picking up, an anxious turn in your stomach. 

“So when I met Max, I was young, and he was nice. He was so nice, and he loved me. I swear he did, and then it was small at first. He started getting mad about everything when I went out with my friends or was on the phone with my mom. Fight got so bad he backhanded me-”

“Y/n you don’t have to-” your head snapped to his, your wild eyes making contact with him for the first time you met. 

“He was sorry! He was!” you snapped, nodding your head crazily. You stood up, your balance questionable as hot tears ran down your flaming cheeks. Daryl got up too, ensuring that you weren’t going to fall out of the watch tower. 

“He said he was sorry,” you told Daryl again before collapsing back onto the ground in a wave of sobs. Without thinking, Daryl immediately dropped with you, pulling you into his grasp as you cried providing you with the comfort he could have only dreamed of for his younger self. You let yourself fall into Daryl’s chest, grasping at his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. 

Daryl sniffled from above you, biting his lip enough to taste a metallic bite on his tongue, willing himself from the tears that threatened to fall. 

This was the turning point in your relationship with Daryl. You found it so easy to confide in him, you knew he understood you and he was always willing to listen. It was uncommon to find a moment where you and Daryl were separated in fact, oftentimes spending the night in each other's cells, taking watch together, and going on runs. Months passed, and your feeling for Daryl easily grew as he showed you how a man should really treat you.

It started slow, the faint passing touches, then the longer more lingering ones. The distance that began to close when you sat next to each other, the eye contact you held with each other, talking about meaningless things. The flowers he brought back from hunts, and the eventual switching from bunkbeds to just the one. Forehead kisses turned to cheek kisses, soon turned to sweet kisses that would forever be embedded on your lips and in your memories. 

It was yours and Daryl’s turn to go on a supply run, the plan to go out just a bit further in the hopes the area wasn’t completely picked clean. Waiting for Daryl, you leaned against his bike, looking out into the sea of people throughout the courtyard. You heard his name before you saw him, people greeting him while on his way to you. A smile pulled at the corner of your lips as he approached you.

“Morning,” he grumbled, unable to stop his smile in return to yours. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. How’d you sleep?” 

“All that snorin’ of yours, I barely shut an eye,” he teased earning a light shove to his shoulder. He chuckled lightly, his hand falling to your hip.

“Didn’t seem to complain when I woke up with you practically on top of me,” you quipped back, standing up fully to meet the smirk on his lips. He scoffed with a roll of his eyes before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“Come on, sunshine,” squeezing your hip before hopping on his bike. You got on behind him, breathing in his scent as your arms wrapped around his torso. 

-

“‘Right let’s go, be careful,” he reminded you. You nodded in response, reaching for your knife. You approached the first building, an old convenient store, knocking on the glass like Daryl had taught you. He glanced at you, before nodding and watching your back as you entered the door. You replaced the knife with your gun, making quick work to clear the building as Daryl followed you from behind. Your footsteps slowed as you heard a rummaging sound, Daryl catching up to you and placing his hand on your shoulder. 

“Get behind me. Now,” he mumbled, raising his crossbow before making his way toward the sound. Following him closely, your eyes landed on a familiar form as the man shoved things into the backpack that was in front of him. 

“Put ‘yer hands up, and drop all of your weapons,” Daryl growled, his crossbow aimed right at his head. 

“Woah, woah, hey now,” the guy spoke, his hands tossing his knife away. The sound of his voice sent immediate chills down your spine, Your breath hitching as he turned to face you.

“Y/n?” he asked, taking a step toward you. You instinctively flinched, your hand gripping tightly on your gun as you took a step back. Daryl stepped towards him, his gaze unfaltering, and his crossbow coming close to his face. Max’s hands raised higher. 

“Hey man, take it easy. That’s my girlfriend-”

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t put one of these arrows through your skull,” Daryl confronted him. 

“Daryl-”

“Y/n tell him-” 

“Oh, she told me plenty. Told me all about how you couldn’t keep your hands off of her. How you’re a disgusting piece of shit.” Max ignored Daryl, looking your way before snickering. 

“What is this? You got yourself some kind of bodyguard? How pathetic. You lost me and like the whore you are you go and find yourself this redneck to take care of you-” he was cut off by Daryl’s crossbow dropping to the ground and his shirt being grabbed as he was forced against the wall with a thud. Daryl didn’t hesitate before, landing hard blows to his face, Max using all his strength to push Daryl away and tackle him to the ground to retaliate. 

You were frozen in fear, swallowing the tears that threatened to fall. Your hand shook around your gun as you watched Daryl regain control. 

“Daryl stop!” you yelled, your voice wavering. He pinned Max down, watching a bloody smile look back up at him. 

“Fightin’ over her, and for what? She’s nothing but a waste of space and energy- nothin’ without a man to tell her what to do and when to do it-” Daryl saw nothing but red but before moving he heard a gunshot ring out, Max falling limp in his grip as blood poured from his head. Daryl looked back at your trembling form, the gun in your hands still pointed at Max. Your eyes were glazed over as you watched Max’s life fade away. 

Daryl made his way toward you, grabbing the gun from your hand and letting it drop to the ground before pulling you into his arms. You tucked your head into his neck, the sobs releasing from your mouth as Daryl’s hand gripped your body tightly.

“Y/n, hey, look at me,” he whispered. You shook your head, his shirt tight in your grip. 

“Come on sunshine, show me those pretty eyes,” he spoke lowly, separating himself from you enough to lead your chin up to look at him. 

“You did what you had to do.” 

“But I-“

“No buts, you did what needed to be done. ‘M proud of you,” he said, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. You sniffled with a forced nod briefly looking over again at Max’s body before looking back at Daryl who had his hand open for yours. Picking up your weapons and stuff you deemed necessary, you made your way back to the prison, back to your home, with the person who mattered most. 

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 3

The Locked Tomb fanart provided by @lezbijski thank you!

Propaganda under the cut:

Coronabeth/Ianthe:

They are everything. Fucked up codependent flesh-bending murderous twincest sisters

When you have to cry yourself to sleep every night because your twin sister didn't eat your soul, something incesty is definitely happening

no one is doing it like them. what if I loved you so much I wanted you to eat me and you loved me so much you refused to do so. what if the only threat I had against you was my own death. what if we had only spent three nights apart in our lives. what if I spent my whole existence covering for your lack; what if everyone assumed I was the one who was lacking. what if we were sisters. also what if someone said it wasn't surprising that people thought I was your boyfriend. they r winning at twincest AND gender AND godhood AND codependency

This entire section [Corona - Crown; Ianthe - The Prince] where Ianthe is possessing their dead servant's body and controlling a corpse army: "Crown threw herself out of her chair and went down on her knees in front of the Prince—wrapped her arms around the Prince’s legs and put her cheek on the dead right thigh. The Prince reached out and tangled one hand in her bright, springy curls, and sighed a cold, dead, defeated sigh. When Crown spoke her voice was low and tender, the lowest and tenderest voice Nona had ever heard: “Baby, it sounds awful.” “Corona, it’s death.” “So stick it. Stick all this and come home with me … throw this all in and come to me.” [...] “But we’re closer to the goal than ever before.” “Of course we are, you perfect genius,” said Crown, lovingly, and she took the dead gloved fingers, and she kissed them. Every single dead soldier’s fingers twitched..."

Dave/Rose:

Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams

What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister

I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always

We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together

Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.

THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR

Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.

do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes

[do-you-ship-it-polls]

I am the first anon who posted about misandry. Thank you for your answer, I understand better why you posted this banner.

I just want to make a distinction between what I'd call feminist misandry and TERF misandry.

My friends are the farthest you can imagine from TERF (a lot of them are even trans). They are misandric because a lot have suffered from cis-men. For them, misandry is a protective instinct: if you meet a group of cis-men, be careful.

They hate cis-men as an oppressive group. They don't take a essentialistic view of masculinity, but a sociological one. Men are a group of power, that can abuse it, and they will protect each other. And of course, they don't include trans women in it. (A lot of the feel waaaaay safer with trans women than cis men).

That has nothing to do with TERFs, who use misandry to say "trans women are oppressors" or "trans women are essentially men"

Anyway, I understand the desire to piss off terfs and radfems. But I'd be sad if the word "misandry" was appropriated by them.

Sorry to bring that discourse, and thank you for the clarification!

genuinely don't understand why people are so deadset on identifying themselves as bigots who think 50% of humanity is out to get them. like, being against the patriarchy means you're a feminist or anti-sexist or ideally just a normal person but idk how many people agree. irrational hatred of men is not the same as wanting to knock the patriarchy down, all it does is just: be irrational hatred against men. when there's discussions like this, it also verges on "trans men aren't real men" territory because for some people, they are the exception. until they go on T and dress in a masculine way, then they're too cis man-like to participate in queer spaces (dunno how common it is, but it does happen!)

english isn't my first language, nor have I grown up in an american culture, so I wonder if it's my use of the word misandry that sets people off? like, is that a loaded word? because the definition of misandry is simply "hatred against men". it doesn't mean you feel uncomfortable with men or are scared of them, it means you hate men. I never thought that I would get so much shit for saying that it's weird to have such a deep, blind hatred for half of humanity. I don't think the word can be appropriated my radfems/terfs because there's nothing to be taken out of context, it means the same thing for anyone who uses the word.

why not just call yourself a feminist, an anti-sexist person, an anti-patriarchy person, etc etc. why do you label yourself as a person who hates all men for being born men and no matter what they do, they can never become a good person because they were born as men? I'm genuinely so baffled. not that anyone is planning on changing their mind about this, atleast not me.

thanks to the comments and asks that confirm to me that I'm not crazy for thinking this lol. also, I'm just some guy behind the screen. you can unfollow, block me, ask me to remove your submissions from the queue, whatever.

Just a fun side note, you know who started this discourse in the first place? All of this about transandrophobia and misandry?

little chihiro over on my queer blog... (I really liked the headcanon so if the person who submitted them sees this, i'm not saying it's your fault at all) just funny that it's this little cute character.

I should probably stop answering asks about his now.

[sarroora]

Hey sorry to bug you but uhhh things aren't looking too hot in the good ol US of A right now because Mr. Overcooked Rump Roast is expected to win and basically has already

In my current situation I should be safe for a while but a lot of the people I know won't be

I'm hoping that whatever dumpster bonfire is going on over here doesn't affect Egypt too bad but shit damn I also thought that Kamala would win but look how that turned out, heh.

(You don't have to respond I just wanted to give you an update and some prayers ❤️🙏)

Hey dear ❤️ - no, please do, I too NEED to reach out and talk to people.

Like I only have a surface level understanding of how elections in the US work, but I know that the system is bullcrap. And yes, Trump’s a psycho so please protect yourself. The very idea that not every vote has the same weight at the end of the day is steeped in racism and classism but nothing surprises me anymore.

Really, if there’s anything the Zionist-American genocide against Palestine confirmed in clear light is how evil of a lie ‘western democracy and morality’ is. Like - the rest of the world already knew it for centuries (most of us endured long histories of abuse and settler colonialism since the Romans, after all) but now even people living in the west have their eyes open and no longer fall for the lies and propaganda. But it feels awful to be associated with what our govs are doing when we had NO choice in the matter.

GOD don’t get me started on Egypt - did you know that our complacent ‘leadership’ has allowed a ship carrying weapons to IsnotReal through our waters? People went nuts. Everyone is in a rage and feels humiliated that this happened.

Like here’s a short vid taken by a woman that went viral and even made it to foreign news channels. You may not understand what’s being said in the vid, but the people are aghast, and you can hear rage and panic and profanity all around. The lady recording could only keep repeating in utter disbelief, “you sons of bitches.” (Referring to our president and posse)

Yeah. Things are going to hell here overall. We as civilians are literally held hostage by a draconian military regime that’s throwing everybody in prison on one hand - including minors - and robbing people blind with unexplained ‘taxes’ and insane inflation on the other. The middle class is crushed. No economical reform and no jobs. And people go to prison for objecting - kidnapped by the police in the middle of the night and thrown in secret prisons across the country where their own families can’t find them.

The currency rate to the USD right now here is 1 USD to 50 Egyptian Pounds. FIFTY.

And it’s projected to reach 80 by the end of the 2024. EIGHTY. In less than 2 months. Shifting the blame onto anything else but the consequences of their own decision-making. All while the president and ruling class (military generals) are becoming wealthy and sit above the law. The justice system is in their pockets.

And guess what, Trump loves our guy. Why wouldn’t he, I wouldn’t put it past him that he do anything - even sell his own country and its people and the people next door in Palestine if Trump asked him to. And I’m sure Trump’s gonna push for Palestinians to be expelled from their land and settle in Egypt (which is another country Isnotreal is VERY interested in occupying next, btw) thus helping the Zionists fully take over what remains of Palestine and expand into Greater Isnotreal.

These freaks are insane, istG.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but from what I heard of Harris, it’s not like she was gonna be much better than Trump. Just perhaps a little sneakier. US has treated Isnotreal as its 51st state for decades, it’s not like the politics of the country will change with her. Congress deals with Isnotreal as if it’s more important than America itself. Who’s given the title of ‘president’ doesn’t matter.

Until the US political system is completely changed and the settler colony that is Insnotreal is wiped off the map, we’re all gonna do what’s right in whatever small ways we can and be each other’s backs, even if we live on different continents ❤️.

[quietblueriver]

Prompts!

Will you hold my hand?

They can't look at you like that!

Will you hold my hand?

Quick thing #2. Avatrice + Diego fluff. Thanks for the prompt!

-

She’s been waiting on this for a long time. There wasn’t time or capacity or, really, much to offer in the face of a possible apocalypse, but now that things have settled, that she’s able to live her life, Ava’s also able to help a few other people live theirs.

Nobody gets to enjoy the perks of martyrdom, which Ava guesses is kind of the point, but now that she’s back? Well, she’s cashing in on some of that goodwill and the Church doesn’t seem super eager to fight her. Cam finds Diego easily because he is, somehow, exactly where she’d left him. As soon as they have confirmation and a list of names, Mother Superion makes a call.

Two days later, there’s an address and an assurance of “state-of-the-art facilities” and “hospital affiliation” and “coverage of tuition and all related costs.” It’s what every kid should get, of course, and she thinks she’ll spend a lot of time trying to make that happen, but she feels happy to start here.

Diego is the oldest of the ten kids left at a smaller but still running St. Michael’s. Two nuns are there with them, ancient but, clearing the world’s lowest caretaking bar, not sadistic, and they don’t ask questions or fight when Mother Superion shows up with Camila and Dora and some strange but impressive paperwork, herding the kids into a van.

They call after dropping them off at the new facility, confirming that it is, as promised, excellent in all of the ways that St. Michael’s wasn’t. When Ava hangs up, she curls into Beatrice in their bed and cries for a little while, a steady heartbeat in her ear and a steady hand running through her hair.

“Do you think it would be okay for me to see him?”

Ava feels her response as she says it, voice low and close, “I think he would love to see you, and I think it would be wonderful for you both, if it’s something that you want.”

“I want it so bad, Bea. I just…I don’t want to mess him up. Or, mess him up more, I guess. Y’know, he has a fresh start now. He deserves that.”

The hand in her hair stills as Beatrice shifts slightly so that she can look Ava in the eye. She’s gentle, always so gentle with Ava, as she strokes a calloused finger across her cheek.

“Ava. Darling. He loves you. And you love him. You were there for each other in that awful place.”

“He saw me kill a nun, Bea.”

Her eyes harden. “He saw you protect yourself, and him, from an abuser. He thought you were an angel for a reason.”

She softens again, adds, “It might be a little difficult for him to understand your…change in circumstances.” Ava snorts and Beatrice tilts her head and shrugs the shoulder Ava’s not laying on in acknowledgement of that fucking understatement. “He might have a hard time understanding what happened and why, but more than anything, he’ll be happy that you’re back in his life.”

Ava settles back into her chest and Bea scratches at her back in the way that she loves, pulling up the hem of her shirt just slightly so that she can reach skin. She hums happily and wiggles in appreciation.

“And,” she continues, nails running gradually higher, “he’s old enough to have seen some of what happened over the last year, no matter how hard the sisters might have tried to shelter him. Not that they seemed to be trying particularly hard. In any case, I’m sure Diego understands now more than ever that strange things are possible.”

Bea’s right, of course. She decides, then, that she’ll talk to Mother Superion tomorrow to see what the best way to organize a meeting might be. In the meantime, she has a few other things she’d like to accomplish.

She rolls away just slightly so that she can push herself up and over, straddling Bea’s thighs and leaning forward to undo her bun, balancing with one arm on her shoulder. Beatrice makes a somewhat strangled noise, hands moving to Ava’s hips, and Ava smirks, because yeah she wants Bea’s hair down but it’s not exactly an accident that she’s chosen to do it this way. She presses her chest forward just slightly, feels Beatrice’s breath hot on her clavicle, the almost-whine that escapes her as Ava finishes with her hair tie.

“Has anyone ever told you,” she combs her hands through the loose hair and settles back, “that you’re very, very smart?” Beatrice is not looking at her face. Ava grins, thrills at the blush on Bea’s face when Ava slips a finger under her chin to tilt her head back and redirect her eyes. She doesn’t give her a real chance to answer, kissing her briefly and then dragging her lips down her throat. “And also.” she slips her hands under Bea’s shirt and tugs it up, Beatrice lifting her arms to assist so eagerly that Ava can’t help but breathe out a laugh against her newly available and perfect collarbones. “Very, very hot.”

“Oh?” Beatrice offers, eyes darkening.

“Yeah.” She trails her lips lower, moving her body down the bed until her palms are pressed to the mattress just beside Bea’s hips. She meets Bea’s eyes again, grins. “But show is always better than tell.”

-

Ava’s waiting anxiously, bouncing on her toes, and when the van pulls in, the doors are hardly open before a tiny blur is coming at her, hurling himself into her arms. She can lift him now, easy, and she spins him around and laughs, ruffles his slightly longer hair. “Diego, my guy. I’m so happy to see you.”

Beatrice is standing off to the side, there at Ava’s insistence, and Ava turns to her now, arm still around Diego’s shoulders, and says, “D, this is Beatrice, my girlfriend.” Beatrice, perfect Beatrice, offers a hand and turns her full attention to him. “Hello, Diego. It’s so nice to meet you. Ava has told me so many wonderful things about you.” She says it with the kind of Beatrice sincerity that makes Ava want to cry a little, and her voice is softer than it would be with a grown-up, but only just slightly, something comforting instead of something patronizing.

Diego’s blushing a little, which Ava understands completely and also finds to be really fucking cute, as he shakes her hand and says, “Hello. It’s very nice to meet you, too.”

Ava jumps a little as she says, “Okay. So. What do you think about a beach day?”

Diego lights up, and Ava keeps it together, barely.

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

He laughs and hugs her again and says, a little loudly but Ava couldn’t care less, “Yeah!”

-

They take Diego to pick a swimsuit, purple with green octopi winning in a close race against blue with orange turtles. He chooses a green rash guard to match, Beatrice extolling the virtues of UV-protection, and then they select an excessive number of sandcastle construction tools, packing them all into a beach bag that Beatrice carries easily while she and Diego debate the perfect spot for their towels.

Ava takes a minute to grab her water from the bag as Beatrice and Diego begin discussing the logistics of castle-building, and it’s really almost too much for her, watching these people that she has loved so powerfully in such different parts of her life sit together and seriously map out a floor plan in the sand. Bea, taking her own advice, has on a black rash guard and green board shorts, hair in a ponytail threaded through a black cap. Her eyes are focused, moving between their layout and Diego, who is busy looking up at Bea in something close to awe. Again, she gets it, and she takes the chance to watch for a little while, until Diego looks over at her and says, very seriously, “Ava, how do you feel about a double moat?”

It’s easy, so easy, to spend the day with them. The castle is more impressive than anything Ava would have been able to build with Diego on her own, Beatrice critically examining sand-to-water ratios and consulting Diego on every decision. A few other kids, Diego’s age and a little younger, look on, clapping at the successful installation of a new turret, until their adults call them away.

Beatrice unpacks the fruit and chips Diego had picked and, after a short time splashing in the shallow water, they get ice cream, sitting under an umbrella stand and watching the water.

When they get back to the towels, it’s obvious that Diego is a little tired, and Beatrice says, almost shyly, “Diego, I brought something I thought you might like.” She pulls a copy of Percy Jackson from their bag. “It was one of my favorites, when I was your age.”

Ava knows this is mostly true. Beatrice had loved it, although by the time she was Diego’s age, she was reading books many people didn’t read until college. She’d asked Ava before buying it, “He won’t think it’s silly?” And Ava had assured her that he would love it and then kissed her, like, a lot.

Diego’s holding the book a little reverently, still not used to anyone giving him anything, much less anything new with this kind of thought and care. “Cool,” he breathes out, the highest compliment he can give, really, and he looks at them both as he says, “Can I read it now?”

Ava lays a hand on Beatrice’s knee. “Yeah, D. Absolutely. We brought books too.”

Beatrice pulls their books out, and they settle happily on the towels. By the time the sun is setting, he’s made it through a surprising amount, and Beatrice offers, easily, as she packs their bag, “I’ll send you the next one, if you like it.”

“Thanks, Bea.” He says it like it’s something he’s said a thousand times, closing the book and looking at her earnestly, and Ava knows it means something, for Beatrice to have someone else, a child, be this comfortable with her.

“You’re welcome.”

Diego is staying the night with them, so they’re not in a particular hurry, and when Ava watches him staring at the Ferris wheel as they walk the boardwalk, she nudges Bea a little and nods in its direction. Beatrice nods and squeezes her fingers.

“Hey, Diego.” He looks back at her. “Wanna go on the Ferris wheel?”

By the time they reach the wheel, Diego’s a little more hesitant. It’s understandable—the thing is huge, and the carriages are all glass, and Ava knows he has never done anything like this before. He doesn’t stop, though, leading them into the line for tickets and then into the line to wait. The carriages are big, but there aren’t enough people that they fill, each group getting one to themselves. When it’s their turn, the attendant opens the door and Diego hesitates a little before stepping up, Ava and Beatrice following closely.

Before Ava can say anything, Beatrice has let her hand go to stand close to him. She says, gentle in all the same ways she is with Ava, “Diego, I’m a little scared of heights. Would you mind holding my hand?”

He knows, she thinks, what Beatrice is doing, but the smile he gives her is grateful and he grabs her hand without hesitation. “That’s okay, Bea. Me too. We can do it together.”

Ava stands beside them, leaning into Beatrice, and they watch the sun set over the ocean.

[simplysnaps]

Sorry if this is a dumb question but as someone who's kinda dreading the career they went to school for (I went for art) and kinda just wants a stable desk job with benefits now: do you have any advice on how someone looks for them? Like, what even IS a desk job? (Again sorry if this is stupid but I have deadass no clue how or where to get a job that's not retail 🥹)

I've gotten a few asks like this, so I figured I'd answer one for everyone. The short answer is: No, I don't have a magic bullet that will land you a desk job making $50k/year with a 401k and benefits. I wish I had an answer, I wish there were safeguards in place that protected everyone from asking a highly unqualified 24-year-old girl for career decisions. I wish you all could get/have what you need. But since y'all asked for my advice, here's what I have to offer. Once again, I am just some girl, I'm not a business-god:

#1: The website I found my job on is https://otta.com/. It's a great place to find jobs in the tech field. It's where I found the job I'm currently working at!

#2: It's easier to find a job when you have a job. I know this seems like old-fashioned advice your racist uncle gives you at Thanksgiving, so lemme reiterate it as a socialist trans girl you follow. This advice is TRUE. You are less desperate and less inclined to make silly decisions/concessions if you're currently employed. Our existing system is literally designed from the ground up to exploit desperate workers who are given the decision to either work or DIE, so yes... In our current system, being employed PERIOD is preferable to not being employed. There will always be someone to work harder for less compensation, so you have to make yourself "worth something" by having additional options. This is fucked, and I wish it weren't the case, but the way to gain "capital" as an employee is to have mobility and options. Be in a position where you're able to tell someone "No, I'm better than that. I'll find something else." If you're not in that position, I'm truly sorry. I wish I had more advice for you. Like I said, I'm not an expert at job-matching, I'm just a girl who's been asked by dozens of people at this point for direction.

#3: Be kind to yourself. If there's anything I've learned in the last year+ of therapy, it's that we have to be kinder to ourselves. None of us are "where we want to be." Trust me, I know. I was in a terribly abusive situation far too recently, but now it feels like such a distant dream. So if you're currently in that position, I have a few things to say to you: Firstly, it gets better. I know that feels like something better-off-people say to us just to make themselves feel better, but I can personally confirm this. Unless you're literally dead, there is the possibility that things get better than they currently are. It can happen. I was once hopeless, thinking life could never get better. Now I'm financially independent with savings and a nice apartment. It's POSSIBLE. If it can happen to me, it can happen to you. Just try to believe it can. Secondly: Be willing to endure the shit jobs until you find a job that you can actually tolerate. Endure/tolerate are two entirely different things. I once endured my job. Now I tolerate it. Do you think I love working customer support? No! But I'm fine with it! I like it some days! That's what's important! Just... not wanting to unalive yourself at the end of the day!

#4 is for the folks who can MOVE: I can't relate to this one as an asthma disabled gal, but I have heard that it's quite simple to "sell your body" for money. This isn't sex work, it's actually factory/shipping work. If you're able-bodied and can work exhausting hours, maybe consider a job at a FedEx joint, or an Amazon warehouse. Like I said, this isn't advice for getting a great job, it's advice for getting enough money to survive. If you are physically able to lift/move stuff without collapsing/dying, maybe consider this option! It is grueling and draining, but it pays a fat check for the damages. This isn't ideal for the long-term, but can serve you well for a hot minute if you have the physical health to survive it.

#5: Just hang in there. You're beautiful, and I know everything feels like hell at the moment, but please trust me as someone who's been there that it can get better. It did get better. Someday, everything you're enduring will be a story you tell your loved ones, a tale of what you used to endure. It will show them where you came from, but it won't be where you are. You can beat this. You will beat this. I know you can, because I truly believed I was doomed to my place in the world. I hope you understand that I'm not a grifter, I'm not trying to sell you a magic solution to your problems. I'm openly admitting that I cannot help you. But what I can offer is a promise that it can get better. Not that it will, but that it can. And that's worth pushing through, right? I know it can, and I know it will. The alternative is death, which is oblivion anyway. That means, statistically, it must get better! Otherwise it'll be "nothing," which is null and void!

So get out there, champs! Or hang in there! Either, or! Try to focus on #1, it's the most important! I love you all.

[schrijverr]

I Found Myself a Cheerleader 10

Chapter 10 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

In this chapter, with Starcourt behind them, they try to make it through, which is harder than it seems. Chrissy returns in time for Hopper’s funeral and catches Steve together with Robin, while Steve tries to catch the others.

On AO3.

Ships: eventual steddie and buckingham

Warnings: grief, injury, nightmares, child abuse mention

~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 10: The Aftermath

Part of Steve expects to be send away by the Buckley’s the next day, having fulfilled their good Samaritan act for the boy that saved their daughter. However, when he awakes nearly fifteen hours later, it is to Mrs. Buckley – Daisy, sweetie, just Daisy is fine – giving him some soup and asking if he feels up to shower and if he eats anything particular for breakfast, because she still has to go to the store later.

Confused Steve stumbles through an answer, his body still feeling like it has gone through a meat grinder. Daisy gives him a smile and cards a soft hand through his hair, before giving him directions to the shower and telling him to ask Robin if he needs anything.

She leaves to do groceries and is replaced by Robin, who looks way better than Steve. She bounces into the room, sliding onto the couch next to Steve and asks: “How are you feeling, dingus?”

“Confused,” Steve answers. “Your mom is nice.”

“Yeah, she is,” Robin smiles. “I told them your parents are away on business and can’t be reached, but I’m afraid to let you go home by yourself. So, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“Are you for real?” Steve asks, unable to imagine anyone opening up their home to him without having met him before. It sounds alien.

“I am, promise they’re cool,” Robin tells him with a soft smile. “Now, mom said you felt up to shower and no offense, Stevie, but you smell like sweat, blood and puke, which is like totally not a good smell. You’re excused of course, would be mean not to excuse it, seeing, you know, everything, but shower sounds smart. I’ll show you the buttons.”

She jumps up waiting for Steve to follow. Steve is a little slower, seeing he is more bruise than skin at this point.

The shower itself is painful. The water feels like it is beating down on his skin and the heat makes him lightheaded, but he can’t stand the cold. So, he takes it sitting on the floor of the shower. He washes his hair with Robin’s strawberry shampoo, remembering the smell from when they were tied together in the bunker. It gives him comfort.

Robin has lend him a set of her pajamas, a soft sweater and plaid pajama pants, as well as some fuzzy socks. It takes a bit to get them on, but in the end he feels more human than he has in the last 48 hours.

Dinner should be awkward, but it seems Robin has her rambling from her parents and the three happily fill the silence and let Steve disappear to the background.

With dinner done, the TV is turned on so they can watch the news. Both Robin’s parents protest, but they have to see. Have to be sure the mall is gone. That yesterday truly happened and they didn’t make it up.

So, the TV goes on and the newscaster tells them about the mall that burned down in a firework accident. That many bodies have been recovered, but not all can be identified. Among the confirmed dead are Jim Hopper, hero police chief, and Billy Hargrove.

Steve cries then. Cries for El, who lost her father, who is alone again. Cries for Joyce, who lost the man she could have had something with. Cries for himself and all the thing he never got to tell Hopper and all the things the other never said either. Even cries for Max, who will inevitably grieve for something that wasn’t real and a person who doesn’t deserve it.

Luckily, neither of Robin’s parents say anything about the tears and Robin holds him throughout it all, careful of his injuries.

After that he goes to sleep again on the couch, having gotten used to sleeping at one and not even bothered, despite Daisy’s apologies about it. It is the first night of a week in which he hides away from everyone in the Buckley house, safe with Robin by his side to keep both of them sane.

On the second day there he calls Joyce to check in with her. He told her he was going with the Buckleys that night at the mall, but checks in with her on Saturday anyway.

Quietly they talk about El, who has turned into herself, refusing to speak. How her powers aren’t working anymore and how she isn’t really coping. The poor kid has already been through so much and both Joyce and Steve wonder out loud to the other how they’re going to get her through this.

But after a few minutes neither can continue the topic they’ve been ignoring. It’s Joyce, who mentions it first, saying: “They’re burying Hopper this Tuesday. They- they don’t have a body, but…”

“I know,” Steve says, so she doesn’t have to. “What can I do?”

“They, uhm, they came here also for you,” she tells him. “Hopper wanted- he wanted you to be a pallbearer. You can say no, but-”

“No, no, I’ll do it,” Steve agrees easily. Of course he wants to help in Hopper’s funeral after all he has done for him, of course he wants to fulfill his wishes. “When do I have to be there?”

“At 10:00 AM,” Joyce answer, obviously grateful. “They’re reading his will too, El wants you to be there as well. It’s afterwards. Can you make it?”

“Of course,” Steve promises again, because he’d make all the time in the world for El, to support her after what she’s been through.

“Thank you, Steve,” Joyce sounds haggard and relived. “Bring whoever you want as support, it’s open to the public, so it’s probably going to be big. Lots of people. They wanted me to speak, but I- I can’t.”

Much to Steve’s horror, Joyce starts to cry. He is already bad with comfort and now he can’t even offer a shoulder like he usually does. Steve knows she doesn’t want to burden any of the kids with this, that she would usually go to Hopper about this, that Steve has to take his tasks now, but he’s still pulling a blank.

“It’s- it’s okay, Joyce,” he fumbles. “You don’t have to speak. He- he knows. He knew. You don’t have to say it for everyone.”

The words probably aren’t the best, but it’s what Steve can manage right now. And the words seem to help. A teary Joyce thanks him, before reminding him he’s welcome there any time. It’s a sweet sentiment, but Joyce has her own grief and that of El to deal with. Steve has a place to stay, he’ll be fine. She has to put her focus elsewhere.

So, he assures her he’s fine and to just focus on the people she has at home, before hanging up and going up to Robin’s room, crawling into her bed. He buries his face in her stomach and she plays with his hair as she reads her book, while he tries not to cry.

Robin has become his safe space, as he has become hers.

On the night from Saturday to Sunday he is awoken by Robin, who stands next to the couch, blanket wrapped around her shoulders tremble and she is crying as she softly confesses: “I- I had a nightmare.”

“Want to talk about it?” Steve asks, getting into a seated position, so that she can crawl on the small couch with him.

“I was in the bunker again and you were there, tied- tied to me and I kept calling your name, but this time- this time you didn’t wake up,” Robin is weeping now, burying her face in the crook of Steve’s neck on the less injured side. Her hand is over his heart, so she can feel his heartbeat. “I was tied to your dead body, all alone. I just- I just needed to check.”

“It’s okay, Robbie,” he assures her, nosing the top of her head and planting a kiss there. “I’m alive, I’m okay. We’re okay. We made it out.”

She lets out a shuddery breath and nods, repeating: “We made it out. We made it out.”

“Yeah, we did,” Steve encourages her. “Want to drink some tea or stay here a bit?”

“Some tea, please,” Robin says.

They get up, Steve leading Robin through her own house, where he himself has gotten comfortable in a short amount of time. He parks her on one of the kitchen chairs, but she abandons it in favor of sitting on the counter as Steve starts the kettle, pulling him between her legs as they wait for the water to boil. Just holding him.

Steve can’t remember the last time a person held him this often and tenderly. He melts into her, hugging her back.

The two of them exist like that, intertwined. Robin shuffles along as Steve pours them tea, then shamelessly sits on Steve’s lap as they sip the hot beverage. To distract herself Robin tells him all about this book she has been reading.

When the tea is gone, Steve asks: “Do you feel up to sleeping again, Robs?”

“Probably smart,” Robin says with a yawn, not really answering the question. She clings a bit more to Steve and mumbles: “Just don’t wanna be alone.”

“I- I could come with,” Steve offers, a bit unsure and not wanting to overstep a boundary.

Robin lights up at his offer and says: “You’re a genius, dingus.”

“Your parents won’t mind?” Steve asks, not wanting to get either of them in trouble.

“Nah,” Robin assures him, getting to her feet and grabbing his hand to pull him along.

Her bed is as comfortable at night as it is during the days when he crashed there. He is still injured, only able to sleep on his back and Robin is careful with his injuries, lying next to him and taking his hand. As they lay there together, she says: “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Me too,” Steve responds. “Though I hate you got dragged into all the crazy with me.”

“I think it’s worth it,” Robin tells him and Steve gets too choked up to say anything, only able to squeeze her hand and she squeezes back.

It’s quiet for a few seconds, then Robin says: “If we were normal, this is where we’d confess our feelings for each other.”

Steve snorts, making a gagging noise that has Robin giggling as well. They lay there laughing for a bit more and when they try to sleep, thoughts of Russian bunkers are further away than thoughts of companionship and understanding.

Sunday passes in a haze. Steve calls all the kids, checking in on them. Mike hangs up after assuring him he’s fine, a bit in a foul mood, since his parents haven’t let him see the others. Lucas and Erica both talk to Steve a bit, neither of them mentioning the 4th and just talking of wanting to try out for basketball and wanting to learn DnD. Dustin talks with him for an hour, both of them crying. Will only speaks to for a bit. El doesn’t want to come to the phone, but Will assures him she’s okay, just going through a rough patch, which is an understatement. Max only says a few words, before hanging up quickly, a fight going on in the background.

Monday brings a new surprise to the Buckley doorstep. Steve is making lunch since Robin’s parents are off to work, so it is Robin who opens the door.

On the doorstep is Chrissy, looking stressed and haggard. Without preamble she starts: “Do you know where Steve is? Because I just came back from camp and I went by his house, because I heard he was at the mall when it burned down, but he didn’t answer and I’m really worried about him, because he always, always opens the door.”

Robin is about to answer when Steve comes wandering into the hall, asking: “Hey, Rob, do you like syrup on your pancakes or-” He looks up and sees Chrissy, smiling when he does: “Chris! I didn’t know you got back today.”

“Stevie,” Chrissy exclaims in relief, before her eyes grow wide as she takes in the state he’s in. She rushes into the house, brushing past Robin without a care as she cups Steve’s unbruised cheek with a concerned face, asking: “Oh my god, are you okay?”

And it is not the question itself that breaks Steve, it has been asked multiple times these last few days, but it is that it’s Chrissy. Chrissy, who has been nothing but sweet and kind to Steve, who has protected him, cheered him up, made sure he wanted to get to school. And even after Steve kind of brushed her off to hide that he has been kicked out, she is still so concerned for him. She went to Robin’s house to look for him.

Tears fall before he’s even aware of them and he crushes Chrissy in a hug that hurts his own ribs and maybe hers, but he doesn’t care, just happy to hold her again.

Chrissy makes a confused noise, however, she quickly moves to hug him back. Her wiry strength should not be underestimated as she sways them side from side, telling him that it’s all okay and to just let it out.

Robin latches onto his back, surrounding him with warmth from his two closest friends. And he cries, like he has done so much these past few days. He wants to stop, but he can’t, so he rides it out and hopes that Chrissy and Robin won’t let go until he’s done.

They don’t.

The three of them hug until Steve is done crying, ignoring the small wet patch on his back and how Robin also sniffles, before clapping her hands and leading them to the kitchen.

There is some batter left, so Steve makes pancakes for Chrissy as well, who hums appreciatively and says: “Steve, I missed your food. Camp food is terrible.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Steve smiles, the compliment warming him up from the inside.

None of them talk about the breakdown in the hall until the pancakes are gone. They just eat in silence and pile the dishes in the sink. It’s only when they’re sitting on the couch, their bellies full, that Chrissy asks: “What happened?”

Steve and Robin exchange a look, before Steve says: “I- I don’t really know. We were out late and closing up when we heard explosions, I suppose the fireworks, before we really knew it the whole mall was going up in flames around us.”

Robin jumps in, interjecting the made up hero story she told her parents: “We were like stuck in the shop and it was terrible. We couldn’t get out until a part of the front caved in and we could climb out. I got stuck and Steve pulled me out, but like a bunch of rubble fell on him. If he hadn’t had done it, well I- I might’ve-”

It’s getting a little too close to the truth now and Robin chokes up. Steve takes her hand and they smile at each other, a reassurance that they’re okay.

“Chief- Chief Hopper got us out,” Steve builds on the fiction they made. “He went back in to help and he- he didn’t-”

“Oh my god, that’s terrible,” Chrissy gasps, hearing their story with horror.

“The funeral is tomorrow,” Steve whispers. “They asked me to be pallbearer. They don’t have a- a body,” he swallows, “so it’s just going to be the casket. It’s ceremonial.”

“Do you want us to be there?” Chrissy asks and if Steve was straight he would've kissed her for offering so he wouldn’t have to ask.

“If you don’t mind,” he says softly, hoping she doesn’t.

Chrissy bumps her shoulder against his, a familiar move, and smiles: “Of course I don’t mind, Stevie.”

“Thank you,” he smiles back. He appreciates Chrissy so much, all she’s done for him, how she’s here for him without question. He feels bad about how he shut her out after the fight with his father, not telling her that he got kicked out. Another realization hits him and he says: “Fuck, I don’t have anything to wear tomorrow.”

“You don’t have a black suit?” Chrissy frowns.

Steve catches Robin’s wide eyes that ask ‘are you aware what you’re doing’ and he communicates back that he does, before answering: “I do, I just- well, I got kicked out by my parents. They changed the locks.”

“What!” Chrissy exclaims.

“Sorry for not telling you,” Steve says. “I didn’t want to worry you. It happened after graduation, remember that fight?”

“Holy shit, Steve,” Chrissy frowns. “That is terrible, I knew your parents were dicks, but this is a new low. What the hell? I’m going to fight them, I swear to God, I am, Stevie. Not a joke. They can’t just do that!”

Steve is touched by her anger on his behalf, but he is also realistic. He gives her a crooked smile and says: “I am an adult now, Chris. They can do that.”

“And what do you think of that?” Chrissy asks Robin, still full of righteous anger.

Robin looks a bit like a deer in headlights, eyes flitting between Chrissy and Steve. She stammers out: “Uh, I- I think they’re assholes?”

“See,” Chrissy tells Steve.

Steve quirks a brow at Robin, who glares at him in turn, before saying: “I already knew they were assholes, Chris. They just also have every right to kick me out if they want to.”

“I know you know that,” Chrissy huffs. “I’m just not going to let them get away with giving you nothing to wear to Chief Hopper’s funeral.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Steve asks, curious for her answer, since he has never seen her like this before.

“We’re going to break in,” Chrissy smiles mischievously.

“What?” Steve chokes.

“You can’t be serious,” Robin exclaims, eyes bulging out of her eyes.

“Come on, Stevie, you said yourself we have to try not to care right?” Chrissy pleads. “I’m sure you’ve snuck in from time to time, you must have a route. Everyone does. And it’s not like they’re going to be home to catch us.”

“I don’t know, Chris,” Steve says, even though he would love to grab a few things he forgot in his haste to pack that first time. It’s still risky.

Robin, however, seems to have gotten over her inhibitions and offers: “We can put shrimp in the air conditioning, give them a true surprise to come home to.”

“No,” Steve says. “We’ll break in, but no pranks.”

“Ugh, fine,” Robin rolls her eyes, while Chrissy just squeals in excitement.

So, Steve drives them to his old house in the car the government kindly brought over yesterday. He is technically not cleared to drive yet, but Chrissy doesn’t know that and if Robin heard, she doesn’t mention it.

The house is still looming, cold and dark. Steve can’t imagine how he lived there all those years without it creeping him out.

They sneak into the backyard to get to Steve’s room. His window broke and he never told his parents, afraid to get into trouble, which now works in his favor. He tells the girls about the window and adds: “But I’m too bruised to climb the pipe.”

“Don’t look at me, I’m clumsy,” Robin immediately defends herself, before Steve could even suggest her. He’s seen her run for her life, which had been less than stellar, so he already wasn’t planning on asking her.

Chrissy, however, also looks unsure and apologetically says: “I’ve always been a horrible climber. I have terrible grip.”

“I’m gonna boost you up,” Steve tells her. “Standing on my hands as we practiced. You can easily reach then.”

“Lisa will kill us if she heard we did that without back spotter,” Chrissy points out, though she has a glimmer in her eyes.

“Lisa doesn’t have to know,” Steve grins. “Besides, Robin can catch you if you fall.”

“I most definitely cannot,” Robin protests, but is ignored by the two others, who get into position.

The stunt is one they performed in their final competition, so they feel comfortable doing it without back spotter. Steve puts his hands on Chrissy’s hips and she jumps, giving him the momentum to throw her higher, before catching her on the palms of his hand. From that position, she easily scrambles onto the roof, disappearing into Steve’s old room and appearing a few moments later to unlock the backdoor for them.

“I can’t believe I broke into your house,” she whispers as Robin and Steve enter as well. None of them turning on the lights, because they don’t want to be spotted by neighbors and the afternoon sun is enough, even through the closed curtains.

“It’s okay, I gave you permission, pin it on me,” Steve tells her easily, looking around the room and taking it in.

His parents have left all the furniture without covers, so a light dust coats it, since Steve hasn’t been there to clean. They might get ruined, but his mother will likely redecorate. There are also two cups and plates in the sink with questionable contents, since Steve hasn’t washed their dishes after they left. It makes him both sad and a little vindictive.

He is pulled out of his thoughts by Robin, who is standing by the piano and exclaims: “Wow, this is a really nice piano. Can you play, dingus?”

“I can actually,” Steve replies. It had been part of his education on how to behave like his social standing.

“You can?” Chrissy comments. “I always assumed it was decorative.”

“Yeah, I can,” Steve says, sitting down on the stool and pressing a few keys. It’s not entirely in tune after years of disuse, but it is good enough.

Chrissy goes to sit down next to him and asks: “Can you play We’ll Meet Again? My grandfather used to play it for me whenever I was little.”

“Sure,” Steve says, starting to play the slightly sad song. He only knows it, because his piano teacher had been a nurse during the war and it had been popular then.

When he is done playing, he gets a small applause from Chrissy and Robin and he smiles at them, before closing the piano and saying: “Well, that’s enough for now. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

His room is like he left it, still a mess from when he packed in a hurry. It’s like his parents closed the door and pretended that would make him go away. Likely, they just couldn't be bothered to clean up as they had to leave again soon after.

Steve first folds his suit and neatly packs it into the bottom of one of the bags they brought with them. Then he packs a few more of the other clothes he left there, favorites he forgot, some more underwear, a few warm sweaters for the upcoming winter, two extra pair of jeans that aren’t the most comfortable, but better than nothing.

After that is done, he braves to open a door he hasn’t since he was twelve years old. His father’s study.

The desk still stands there, imposing and sturdy. Steve is momentarily transported to all the times he stood in front of that desk as his father berated him or made him stand there, waiting until he was deemed worthy of attention as his father worked.

He shakes it off and moves behind the desk, putting in the code to the safe that his father had told him for emergencies, praying the man had forgotten to change it.

Steve is in luck, because the safe clicks open. There is ample of money in there and despite his lack of finances, he doesn’t take it. He doesn’t actually want a robbery charge. Instead, he searches under them and gets his birth certificate and other papers. Things that are necessary to have.

With those tucked away, he tells the other two to get out of there. He contemplates grabbing a new key, just to fuck with his parents, but decides against it. Best if no one will ever learn they were there.

So, they return everything as closely to how they found it as they can and sneak back out.

It’s now nearing dinner, so Steve drops of Chrissy at home, hiding so it looks like Robin drove her there. Robin is also the one to walk her to the door, being grilled as Stevie by Chrissy’s mother until she is satisfied.

“Chrissy’s mom is terrifying,” Robin hisses when she gets back to the car.

“I know, glad you survived, Robbie,” Steve tells her with a grin.

“She thinks I’m a cheerleader, Steve,” Robin says. “She asked if being a base was hard with my build. I don’t even know what a base is! I can’t lie. Chrissy stepped on my foot, before I could dig myself into a hole. I nearly died.”

“Well, thank you for your service, drama queen,” Steve rolls his eyes as he continues to drive, luckily all going well, despite the injuries. “But I’m sure you can manage. Cheer isn’t that hard to grasp, though maybe hard for you to do.”

“You know, I get that that was an insult, but I will ignore that, because I am nice,” Robin sniffs, haughtily.

“You aren’t nice.”

“Shut up, dingus,” Robin says, smacking him lightly. “What I meant to say is; you need to tell me more about cheer so that I can pretend to be a cheerleader to Chrissy’s mom and we can all continue to hang out together.”

The shit eating, teasing grin disappears from Steve’s face and he can’t help but sound surprised as he asks: “You want to hear me talk about cheer? You said you hated sports.”

“I mean, I do,” Robin shrugs, looking a bit uncomfortable. “But you like sports. And you’re like my best friend. I wanna know about your sports.”

“That- that is honestly so sweet,” Steve tells her, having to swallow, so he won’t cry.

“Shut up,” Robin says, suspiciously not looking his way.

That evening Steve tells Robin all about cheer, the two of them pointedly not talking about what they did today and what is going to happen tomorrow. Instead going over cheer formations and types of stunts and positions in the team until they’re tired, Steve falling asleep in Robin’s bed again, without either of them commenting on that as well.

On Tuesday 9th of July, they bury Chief Jim Hopper.

Out of all the pallbearers, Steve and Jonathan are the ones that are not police. Steve is walking in the front and then the right, so his injured side doesn’t hit the casket. He is well aware of the large crowd of people staring at his beat up face, the rumors that are going around.

Steve wills himself not to cry, he has done enough of that already and today he needs to be strong for Joyce and El, who have suffered a much greater loss than him. He is aware of how light the casket is, how there is no body and no closure for them. It makes it easier on his bruised body, but he gladly would’ve suffered the pain to give them that.

His suit is from prom and luckily still fits. He looks like he has more money to his name than he does, but he’s not complaining about it. Though, he feels guilty at the thought.

He purposefully doesn’t look at the crowd, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze. He just stares straight ahead, his face stony.

Once the casket is positioned for burial, Steve lets go and follows Jonathan to where Joyce is standing with El and Will. Joyce falls into Jonathan’s arms and Steve takes El, who had been hiding in Joyce’s side.

The five of them watch the burial like that. Will next to his older brother, who has one arm on Will’s shoulder. Jonathan’s other arm around his mother as she cries silent tears. Joyce holds Steve’s hand tightly and Steve holds it right back. El is under Steve’s other arm and he hugs her as best as he can, ignoring how his ribs twinge.

Throughout the entire ceremony, Steve doesn’t cry. He keeps up his impersonation of a statue and looks ahead. He is their rock now. He is keeping it together.

Only when the grave is filled and the Byers get ready to leave, does Steve turn around, El is still stuck to his side and he just keeps holding her. He spots the Buckleys in the crowd, already coming his way to support him, and catches Chrissy’s eyes, who sends him a sympathetic look, stuck next to her mother.

Daisy kisses his cheek and hugs him tightly, while Thomas, Robin’s dad, claps him on the back a few times. Robin ducks between them to cling to him and El, it’s a little awkward, but he clings right back.

It is when he is hugging Robin that he meets his father’s eyes from over her head. He is standing in an expensive black suit next to his mother in a stylish black dress. They look every part the rich socialites, who have come to show support for the town’s tragedy.

In that moment, Steve hates them more than he ever has before. He hugs Robin even closer and glares at them, before letting go of Robin and asking Jonathan where to meet, since El doesn’t look like she is letting go and they still have to hear the will.

He doesn’t care about his parents. He isn’t going to let them get to him. Especially not today when there are more important people counting on him.

Steve goes by all the kids, who are clumped together, making sure to hug them all and tell them that they’re going to be okay. That they’re going to get through this. Mike tries to talk to El, who is still by Steve’s side, but she just shakes her head, before hiding in Steve’s jacket again. This causes Mike to glare at Steve, which he ignores. Emotions are already running high enough.

As he leaves, he is stopped by Max, who tugs on his sleeve and asks: “Steve?”

“Yeah, Max?” he says kindly, not wanting to trigger an upset reaction when she already looks like she can cry at any moment.

“Uhm, I- I know you didn’t have the best history with- with Billy,” she is stumbling over her words, but valiantly keeping in the tears. “But can you come. Tomorrow. To his funeral?”

“Of course,” he promises. He isn’t going to abandon her, not when she already lost a brother.

After that, he drives to the reading of the will with El, since she hasn’t left his side. He doesn’t know why she is clinging to him, when the two of them haven’t interacted much, but he isn’t going to abandon her when she obviously needs someone to lean on.

The group for the will is much smaller and Steve ends up sitting next to Joyce, with El squished between them. Steve gets a few odd looks, but he ignores it to support El.

Hopper didn’t have much, so most of the things that are in his will are sentimental things that he shared with people. Steve tries to ignore that Hopper must have made this will after their second run in with the Upside Down. How he must have foreseen that it wouldn’t be over and they might not all make it out next time.

That he was right about it.

The big thing he owns is the cabin, which has been paid off already. No one who knew about her is surprised when that goes to El. She is still a minor and Hopper has appointed Joyce as her guardian with her consent, which makes Steve glance at her.

Joyce looks back and he can see in her eyes that she remembers the conversation when Hopper asked her to look after El should something happen clearly now. He reaches over and squeezes her shoulder. No one should go through such a thing, but especially not Joyce.

When it’s all done, Steve asks her: “Have you talked to El about what will happen now?”

Both of them look to El, who is currently with Jonathan after she felt good enough to leave Joyce and Steve’s side for a bit. Then they look at each other and Steve sees some awkwardness in Joyce’s eyes that has him on edge.

“I am planning to move to California,” she tells him softly. “She and Will have been through too much here. I don’t want El to start school here and have everyone know and ask her questions. I haven’t started looking for places, since I wanted to ask if you wanted to come too. I know it’s all suddenly and I don’t expect an answer, but I’ve taken you in and I’m not planning on abandoning you, okay, honey?”

It takes a second for all her words to register.

First, all that plays through Steve’s mind is that the Byers are leaving Hawkins. They’re moving away, which is the only competent adult they have left and the girl with the power and knowledge, though the power has disappeared. Jonathan, who can fight. And Will, well, Will makes the most sense, but Steve knows how the party will miss him. How he holds them together.

If they all go, the party practically halves in numbers and Steve is the only one who is a proper adult. Nancy and Robin are there as well and while Robin is new to this, she can be counted on and Nancy is a powerhouse in her own right, but still. Steve will be the one most of the party turns to when shit hits the fan again.

At this point, Steve is still in the stage where the Upside Down coming back seems like an inevitability, though hopefully that will leave – it might be better to keep the mentality, seeing how it has come back again already, but still.

Then it hits Steve that Joyce is offering him to come with her. That she is giving him a way out of this hellhole to California. California where people are more accepting, where he isn’t tied to the Harrington name and his old reputation as well as new rumors. He can just accept her offer and be free of that.

But-

But he can’t.

Chrissy is still here, unable to leave her mom. They’re friends. They bonded over having horrible parents and how much it sucks to be alone in that. She broke into his house with him. He promised her they could always stunt together. That he would always make her fly.

And what about Robin, his favorite lesbian. The only other queer person, he has met besides Will, and that is still a maybe, and Eddie. But Robin. Robin is his queer friend. She knows him. They give each other hope and safety. He can’t just leave her.

Plus, they got tortured together. They were drugged together. They came out to each other. She has never had to deal with the aftermath of the Upside Down before. She obviously isn’t dealing perfectly and neither is he. And the thought of being away from her pains him.

Then there are the kids. They’re already going to loose two friends, who are moving to Cali and they have lost Hopper, who was as much their safety net as Steve is. He can’t hang them out to dry like it’s nothing. And Billy’s loss has hit Max harder than he thought. He can’t abandon her now, not after that.

His mind also jumps to Eddie, who is here in Hawkins. Eddie, who knows him, who has been kind in the moments he needed it. Eddie, who he likes. Eddie, who he wants to have a chance with. The boy he wanted to kiss when he was being tortured, the boy he still wants to kiss.

Steve shoves that last thought away, the other reasons are more important. Plus, him going would be an extra financial burden Joyce doesn’t need.

He is already shaking his head no, before he even thinks about it more. His voice is a little pained, because he would have loved to say yes, as he says: “I- I can’t. I can’t come with you. Thank you, but- I mean, the kids-”

As he stumbles over the words El pops up between them. It is obvious she has been eavesdropping, because she says: “He can have the cabin.”

Both Joyce and Steve look at her and Joyce immediately tells her that she is very sweet for offering, but she should think about such things and Steve is agreeing with Joyce, telling El that is not necessary at all.

“No,” El says, as stubborn as ever. “Hopper was going to take you in if you had no place to go. He wanted you to have a place. You cannot come with us, so you need a place to stay. He would want you to have a place to stay.”

For the hundredth time today, Steve has to repress the urge to cry, because he knows that he cares about Hopper and he kind of thought the other man cared about him, but the fact that he was willing to take him in confirms it.

He takes her cheeks between his hands and presses a kiss on her forehead, before hugging her close and swaying her from side to side. Squished into his chest, he hears her whisper: “We could have been siblings.”

And Steve remembers her running away to find the other numbers, to find a sibling. A connection out there. Remembers how she came back and decided Hopper was her connection. His heart swells with affection and aches at the same time about how she wanted him to feel included in that.

Still, he can recognize that she is in an emotional state, so he just says: “Thank you, El. You’re really sweet. Let’s talk about this later.”

She nods in his chest, mollified with his reaction. She allows Joyce to take her home, while Steve climbs into his own car and cries like he has wanted to all day. He cries until his tears have run dry, then drives to the Buckley house.

He doesn’t say anything all evening and none of them seem to expect him to, which he is grateful for. He sleeps in Robin’s bed again, holding her close against his chest and knows he made the right choice in saying no.

On Wednesday 10th of July, they bury Billy Hargrove. Steve hates the man, but seeing him die has been horrible and he can respect who he gave his life for and acknowledge who he hurt by dying.

So, he puts his black suit on again like an armor and holds Max throughout the ceremony, watching the distance between her mom and step-dad. An ominous feeling about it hanging in the air. Sees how neither of them look back to Max or check if she’s okay.

After the funeral, he takes her to get a milkshake. Neither of them speak as they drink it in their mourning clothes, everyone giving them a wide berth.

It is a week of many funerals, it seems like everyone has lost someone.

When he brings her home, neither parent had noticed her missing, but she seems happier than when he met her at the graveyard. They’ll just have to be there for her, Steve thinks, making a note to keep an eye on her for a few months.

[ilovemyselfak]

Please read this without any fan war 🙏

#Justiceforbuildjakapan

I want to talk first about build public apology on 07/16. That day he came and apologized for the ss she had leaked that day . Also, she and her minions have translated the screenshots that were leaked that day. Thai fans confirmed that she had mistranslated ss. She had done so to target int fan base. Her aim is to manipulate and mislead the Int fans.On that day, she leaked the ss that he chat to her before July 2022. Because from the leaked audio record, she tells him that he changed after July 2022, which means he distanced himself from her after July and got rid of her manipulation .

On that ss he has spoken there about the mistreat he received from that company.

Because once he made a mistake ten years ago (he apologized for that post at that time, and that post was posted by a 16-17 year old boy) the company sent him hitatus for a month without protecting him. He was an artist under that company a but that company did not give him protection at that time. Also , the company asked his other co-artists to even remove his posts from ig.

Also, after coming back, all the projects he was getting were stopped by the company. They lied about he being busy and reject all the job opportunities he got. He expressed his frustration with the company at that time with her whom he knew from the beginning. He believed her and vented his frustration like that. Therefore, the ss were only about that, but the Thai fans confirmed that she had edited and cropped some of the photos and deleted some of her replies in those ss. He came that day and apologized only to these ss.

You say it yourself, is it not fair for him to be angry like that? He has always worked for the company but then the company has mistreated him and sidelined him from everything, Doesn't he feel angry? Doesn't he get upset? Doesn't he feel sad? When you get angry, don't you tell your best friend about others ? Don't say you won't do that because first of all we are all human.

Also, one of the other main ss was B taking about how BB gave him a ring . If you have read the correct translation , according to those translations, it is the reaction of that person when one of his friend or crush suddenly confronts him. When everyone was fighting about that ss, Thai fans didn't worry about it because they said it's normal to talk like that in that country. And he didn't say a bad word to BB there, he just said how surprised he was at that moment.

And another important thing is that BB unfollowed B on the 07/15 . It was after his twt on the 16th that others started unfollowing him. That company still has a connection with her. Because on the morning of the 15th, she posted an ig story thanking that company staff for visiting her, and later in the evening she posted a ig story and hung out with the staff. She still has a big connection with that company . Even after the court confirmed what kind of person she is at the beginning of this year.

According to the information leaked by red skull at the beginning of this year, the company always takes her side, because she knows many secrets of that company, and she also knows the secrets of the other artistes in it. So the company always takes her side.

Then you will understand that what is happening from the 15th till now is her trap.

She has done all the inhumane things she can do to him, he has nothing to lose .

She abused him , manipulated him , brainwashed him , blackmailed him , false pregnancy , spreading his private photos , shaming him in public , giving death therats , lied about him , gaslight , called fans rac!st words ,used violence (neck strangulat!on) , extort ,revenge pr0n , spreading fake chats ( Before the 07/16, she had leaked private chats before, and Thai fans confirmed that they were all fake (about bb & a )) , Also, she came from her official twt account and said that she would like to see an Inter fan commit su*c*de ,and in that leaked phone call as well as in her ig story, she repeatedly said "I want to destroy you, I will destroy you " ETC .She did more inhumane things to him and she is doing them all this was proved in the court that day. Even as I am writing this post, she has now publicly threatened him on her third twt account that she will stop all this if he leaves the industry.

I kindly ask all of you to think carefully before believing anything you see because she is targeting the int fanbase because of the language barrier to manipulate and mislead everyone.

I request from other fanbases to reduce your anger and hatred a little and please think that , he is also human and see this story from his pov.

Because that woman is obsessed with him, she already destroyed his everything , and when he tries to stand up alone again, she is trying to destroy the small things he has built.I don't think a man can bear these things because she did all the inhumane things to him and will continue to do .

And also B has not made new mistakes. Same problem since June last year - chatting with friends in public or private. Now there is someone who has many chat ss (all before 2022 july) she may release them once, twice or multiple times, it doesn't mean B is doing wrong all the time. Everything is more than a year ago, he has being moving forward and the leaker continues to commit crimes.

Please, we are all human, we are not saints .we make mistakes, we learn from those mistakes and change. Why can't you all let B do this?

And the biggest mistake he made in his life was trusting her and trusting that company .

She & her minions try to make him as the bad guy, but you all understand that he is the ultimate victim in here.

[loremonster]

Grew up on a family farm with 80+ chickens, can confirm that hens will regularly eat their own eggs regardless of whether or not its fertilized or even damaged.

Sometimes they'll incubate a nest up to the chicks peeping in their eggs and suddenly scrap the whole brood for no reason.

Some of this is to blame on intense domestication. Animals we've raised in captivity for generations change from their wild counterparts. Domestic sheep cannot deliver their young without human assistance, for example. Chickens who have been bred for egg production over their brooding instincts are crap parents, particularly when they had no mother hen to learn from.

My mom did her research and found the best barnyard parents are the Buff Orpington breed, and incorporated it into her flock. This breed is KNOWN for going broody and sitting nests, and being very good at protecting their chicks from hazards.

They still eat their eggs sometimes. But that happens less the more generations are raised by a mother hen instead of by hand.

And healthy chickens produce 5 eggs a week, even when its not a good season to sit nests. So we take the excess production and feed them everything they need to stay healthy and keep being chickens. They also get all the leftovers from meals and food prep scraps, cutting the house's waste massively. The chickens poop all over, ma cleans the coops, and plows it back into the veggie garden.

There is a massive gap between animal use and abuse. If your only examples are factory farms, thats not how we've been using animals until the last century. We've lived together and benefited from animals for much, MUCH, longer than that. It's possible to respect animals and still use the things they produce-- but the best way to do that is to Care For Them Yourself and that is a metric fuck ton of work that not everyone is made for.

Next best thing is see if there's a farmer in your community who lets you walk around the barn yard and see the animals and ask about their care, feed, and waste management. That's called Soursing, when you seek out a producer of the goods you want and fully inspect the operation before buying. Most family farmers are excited to give tours and talk about their animals because being that kind of farmer is a full time job and it is Their Thing. My ma gives away eggs and milk to people who come visit the animals.

Factory farms are evil incarnate and I will never defend that flavor of cruelty, but demanding that people just Don't Ever Use Animal Derived stuff because the biggest players in the game are cruel profit driven assclowns doesn't make what the small community farm does evil by association.

Animal abuse is evil. Animal use had been part of the human experience for 20,000 years that we're aware of. Don't get em mixed up.

anti-egg vegans are always a hoot. like, she’s not using it. it’s not fertilized. it’s going to rot and attract predators. you want me to just throw it in the trash??

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary482

1/21-22/25

tuesday - wednesday

still ill, just watched the elephant man,

i think the crying maybe helped? i hope it did. i guess i'm just imagining it might have, what a film, i rather loved it, it really moved me, of course there's a lot of questions one can ask / one should ask and contend with about the voyeurism of the film, i think the film puts us on the level of treves, there's something perverse in the film about what we are made to see and how, and i think the film points at this as well, though i've seen people say it's not such a strong critique in the work (i found it rather present though), but this christian kind of absolution in taking pity, that cruel belittling thing, where rather than staring because he is a freak and you want to feel terror, you want that other feeling, on the other side of terror and revulsion, you prove to yourself that you are above them, by feeling them, turning a person into exposure therapy almost. when the royalty come see him, when polite society deign to grace him, i think lynch finds this nightmarish too but the masses who abuse him and taunt him to turn their terror into a strength against what is outside them, or they force into an outside thing, something to guard society against, this is worse, and it's hard to argue against that on some level, in terms of suffering and pain for merrick, but i do think on some level we see something outside of this binary, of the bourgeois liberal field and the proletariat who i think, also, some at least, spitting on the keeper of john towards the end (is it because the show went bad, or because it's disgusting to do this to someone? (his face said, i hate you, you disgust me, to me)), either way there is a third thing in this opposition and that are the other people in the circus who are disabled and outside the normal with john, freeing him from the cage, leading him to a boat so he may escape.

we can question why they didn't do this sooner, there is a quality of amorality to them, in that, at some point at the start as the show is being shut down, the keeper of john (is his name mr. bite?), where he says:

he's a freak, what else is he to do to survive.

and for them it goes the same, why stop him if this is survival, this is what has been allowed for them, their space to exist, as defined by normative sociality, this always exists to confirm the normal back to all others. but to one another, they are sweet and kind, there is something there that i think treves gets to later in the film, and only him among the others... well, him and the head-maid of the hospital, who take care of him and know him as someone, but even he, his wife, even the head-maid, there is this profound shame i think about john's state, not that he is, but that it has gone so terribly, they are confronted i think with the fact of the world's revulsion and how society maintains itself, what the margins have to be made into, to protect the broadest portion. it feels like this great failure.

and for john, it feels internalized too, it feels so sensitively handled in those moments, when he is staring at the family of john's wife, her parents, he says:

oh, they have such noble faces.

and my god, this cuts to the core of the thing, the class stuff, all of that, these notions of breeding, genetics, the eugenics of the time creep through enough to end up critiqued in the film, that he is prevented from seeing himself as anything other than a series of lacks, even when being received, it seems that he knows people are afraid or disturbed. at times through the film there is a lot of knowing innuendo, one that comes to mind is when bytes claims that he has fallen, treves knowing from the boy what happened was that he was beaten, just by some looking and blinking, but he keeps the lie going, just for ease of conversation, and to part from the man john. in the moment where john is entertaining two guests who bring him a walking stick, and the man's wife is quavering trying to say anything to him, and unable to hold the teacup without jitters, he only asks if he ought to close the window, at once because it would be impolite to draw attention to her impoliteness (in terms of sociality (it would really be right to if i am speaking from my heart)), and because it would be painful for him, and he could upset them.

among the most heartbreaking moments is when he talks about if his mother could see him with such nice people, that she would finally love him. it is terribly painful, and this too gets at things, that he needs to be accepted by the system which produced him as this total object for staring at. i don't think the film finds this good, and i feel that at the end, i had this thing that crossed my head, a fear, that the woman would call him elephant man, as he was in the high seats of the theater, though she did not, but she might as well have, and though the people clap for him being there, it feels almost pitiful, and the film ending with his suicide too, it's as if he was confronted with the fact that these things, as much as he could do, make his art, read his things, talk with treves, the world was full of this guilt or terror at him, either chasing him or absolving themselves of having chased him into being an object for them to chase, this cyclical pain, i don't know. i don't think it's a cop-out from any greater confrontation, it's this utterly painful story, and i do find it empathetic, it's just a difficult empathy and i think that's also the thing, treves sitting and questioning if he is a good man or a bad man, there are no answers, never, not even when he takes him to the theater, not even when he hugs him after seeing him return, john is someone he has always extracted something from, and he is guilty for this and can't escape it. i think he does love him as a friend, and really care, but it's a wicked thing he is trapped in.

so then, it feels as if the film points at the trap, and weeps, and under its weight, i weep also, it is very painful and cruel, this is a really painful world. people are mean, and when they aren't mean, they congratulate themselves for their bourgeois morality. the dirty hands of treves though, this does make him more complex, similar to jeffery in blue velvet, he went to go and see, to learn, and from learning grew close to something, and now he is tethered to that knowledge and can't figure out how to make anything right. being there seems to be the better thing though, to be uneasy, to know this world is terrible, he suggests at the start that he hopes john is an idiot, that he can't speak, when it is revealed he is thinking and feeling his overwhelmed, the head of the hospital asks if he can imagine what his life was like, he says he thinks he might be able to, the man replies:

i don't think so, i don't think any of us can.

and if he were an idiot, if he simply lived as an animal, instinctual and suffering but not thinking, it would make the fact of him being cast out more okay, more thinkable, but confronted with the fact he resembles normality in so many ways, it becomes intolerable. i do find that maybe, his personality, there was this review, it says the film makes too great a point, maybe not this exactly but roughly, that the film is making a point of the difference between his appearance and his 'gentle demeanor' (i recall those words exactly), and this is true and this is one dimension in which the film seems to be this kind of voyeuristic pity thing, but i don't know, even then it is complicated, he is afraid, he wants to be good, i don't know i remember being a child, wanting to be a good person, that's all i thought i could be when i grew up, i wanted to do what i wanted to do but primarily i would be nice and good to people, i've grown up, and now i am perpetually afraid of myself (for what if i am failing, what if i can't be, what if i lost, etc. it is stupid and i can't give it any ground, i am not evil, i hope, i hope, really i hope so), there is this thing there, he is trying so much, speaking seems to be an ordeal of pain for him, each word is labored over, in this context his kindness is clearly, it's not false but it is thoughtful, and when he lashes out at the end, screaming at the crowd that he is a human being (complicated thoughts on this but the film has an odd infatuation with the west (it feels as though without americana, lynch gravitates towards odd things in britain, the royalty, the theater and old buildings, there is this nightmare of the enlightenment within the film and these upright structures enforce that but they also feel inverted in places, the carnival and the freaks and their kindness, this feels a greater heartbeat in the film, or the strange and wondrous performance within the theater, its oddity and sweetness, cheapness too, differing from the classical building, other things sprouting up (and in that performance too there is something so subtle where he sees himself, that shock of recognition in the man locked in a cage, the dirty prisoner, made to see what he might always have to be, what he is made into in fiction (and to capture that shock... thinking on it now i wonder if that left him with a doomed feeling that made him kill himself at the end? too painful and sad a thing to ponder, still i wonder it)))), there is an expression of rage there, it is justified and not particularly violent but it is an outburst and i do find the performance, his yelling, a little frightening, not in a monster-y way but in a man in extreme pain way.

another moment, when the woman from the theater meets with him, she can't look at him, he notices this, until finally they begin talking a little more, and she seems to recognize him there. it is something strange, it is a good moment.

i think this humanist element, that everything can be made into this positive human thing, and that inhumanity is some innate tendency towards cruelty thus making masses inhumane and individuals are humane, there is something worrying in that but i don't know if this is the total vision of things that the film has, i think this is the obvious thing to take away but i think it is problematized somewhat, it feels incredulous of itself at times, the clapping for him at the end, it feels like this odd gesture that doesn't meet him, it isn't real appreciation for him, for real appreciation would be friendship and quietness, not a group's absolution and gesture towards his humanization. he is met by the people of the freakshow, this is where kindness lies, in the film, well that and treves, who is guilty about this whole apparatus, who participates directly in the apparatus, actually! i think this is maybe one of the most critical moments in the film:

when john is shown to the fellows at the hospital, to study his anatomy, shown nude and pointed at, explained as a perversion of the human form, that is all, paid for in presence too, a grotesque and cruel act, the script and camera seem to understand this is a terrible thing to do and makes it explicitly this reduction of him to a body, though maybe we can question the camera as well in what it does, him only being a silhouette here, this is exciting for the viewer maybe, in that it makes him mysterious and monstrous, though it also makes one examine the outline, deformity underlined here and he is reduced there as in the script, his wheezing and fear and pain, i don't know. it's a complicated thing. i do find this scene though, illustrative of the terror of science and it seems to understand that terror, the act of procuring knowledge as not clean but something which is deeply and pointedly harvested, especially medical knowledge, from the bodies of others. the film comes off here as describing the way biopolitics maintains itself.

i will now post some images:

many shots felt so like him, the hallway shots, the particular way he uses effects, the moving images and fades and things... one particular thing i'd draw attention to though, even in subtle ways, how the camera pans almost without object, rather moving cross many things, slowly, into them almost, into and away simultaneously, he is always a fan of that style of tracking shot across desks, a spread of objects.

beyond this... today not too much. played guitar and bass, still working on getting my hands to play guitar better/ better calluses for that. i wrote a dream down, i will relay it here:

working in / at ichiza (local japanese izakaya place , work party after? invited to a big house in suburbs. like my aunt's house, when i lived with her, but inverted, bedrooms totally different too, like this kid's place when i was young, spacious and carpeted, big windows. the party went late, we were going to leave, my close friend and his gf/our friend too, and some others were there too, i had my camera, asked if i could film, they said yes, there was some object i started to film, pointing a flashlight at it, had the quality of a spotlight pointed pointed at a turtle on a beach at night. the object had at times a porcelain quality, or the interior of a conch, other times a white paper bag, and other times yet, a plastic bag totally still. someone got in the shot as i fought with early morning light, trying to angle myself right. she got in view and it caught me at a certain point that it looked good, i told her to stay, pointed light at her, stairwell, wooden guardrail turned into a spray of of shadows long against the wall, a tripled form, threatening memories of cages hung overhead, their undersides, and branches in a moonlit garden. as she was there, another entered the frame, i asked them to make up an argument. the strange thing was that this person was her bf / she was his gf, and when she returned from upstairs to make up with him after their faux argument that felt real, to make up in video, kissing him, he placed his face between her legs, i struggled to know where to put the camera here, any movements threw me off and i really physically fought to manage the force of what i was seeing or feeling and my own failure as a photographer, he was there hugging her, and it was as if she returned again from outside, staring at herself being hugged by him, and she was furious, and he tried to explain himself but he could not, so he left with her double to the upstairs, or was it that they made up, something odd here, a loss of continuity, some portion remained angry, a joining though of the doubled her, i think. the downstairs... big glass door, dawn crossing the threshold of dimness, we were in the kitchen, the table big and wooden, laminated, that warm and bright color of table, and big ornamental feet upon its 4 legs. had a sacrificial air about it. thatch basket on top, waxy reeds in the shape of something nostalgic, little red riding hood, it caught light funny, a large metal thing beside it, 3 tiers, for tea? chairs absent, we must have moved them but they had the quality of having never been seen at all. i lingered then followed. the remainder of the downstairs was this (omitted as i have stolen this portion of the dream for a piece of writing... wow...). did i ask for no lights? up the stairs and the hallway did not matter, dark places i zoomed through, the bedroom was where everyone was now, her bf in bed with her, i filmed them still and the bf made this face, like he was doing something wrong and possessed by shame, caught in an act, eyes deep set and lined in a german expressionist way. his gf was possessed by deep ambivalence, oceanic almost. had the feeling of a child's room, cluttered with things, foam things made to look like puzzle pieces, colored buckets full of things, computer desk along the left wall coming out towards the center of the room, from the middle of the wall, an obstruction. someone leaves. the place felt scary and new, how the upstairs of his house always feels, maze-like for its newness to your senses, years pass between journeys up there, returning it to 0 always, transforms everywhere to something else. we once slept up there. still filming the two, fuzzy and resentful of the camera and i, and their faces took up the whole eye of the thing, the dawn light made everything a little flatter. then, we left.

i went to ichiza, it's now just a sushi restaurant, i got a one year anniversary working there t-shirt. it had a fish wearing a shirt that said asshole on it. there was a huge fake tuna head greeting customers at the entrance, huge and friendly and deathly, very silver and blue. the whole place was full of orange light, warm tones, people behind curtains in booths eating sushi, lots of sound that meant nothing. something was being said about finally having horseshoe crab, in the back, cutting them until their blue blood ran, made me think of a fallout game with giant horseshoe crab mutants and killing them, and in the dream an overfarming crisis had made them harder to get. someone tweeted something insane about how the new horseshoe crabs are:

a manufactured species like the trees that line the streets, invented by one man.

and then something about the mind of a horseshoe crab being oriented towards some nostalgic revival design trends from 2017, something described in the tweet as mechanicalism. grey slate uis and things, bizarre detour in the dream. more blue blood of the creatures ran, it was white back there, an abattoir more than any kitchen i've seen. white tile far back and drains for dealing with running blood laid into the floor. were there hooks? i cannot recall, i feel there must have been, threatening sensation of that place, and then another detour; some youtube video of a man explaining a japanese painting and he overlaid this white film grain over it and this somehow felt right to me, to obscure the thing so you would feel the need to go see it yourself. the painting itself was mostly of a burning sky, eyeballs, supposedly characters were there, dialog, in manga panels etched in, it seemed like a still that captured an entire hiroshi harada film, no longer can i recall the words of the youtuber, only flames in the sky, the people burning in the city, people set aside in manga panels speaking on how to escape, failing, i think, something singed with green light, the flames shrouding long figures in the sky, long necks and eyeless heads and wide smiles, wobbly long arms descend to earth, eyeless smiling things. a monstrous kind of ukiyo-e, somewhere between traditional painting and guernica.

odd dream. i kind of want to film that first bit though, of my friends and their odd doubling. i have some notion of shots for it.

all through watching the elephant man i was crying, did i say this already; that i thought the crying was making me feel less sick? i think i did but it bears repeating, how odd a thing that is. the swallowing goes over much better now so hopefully whatever is in my nose goes away soon too. i didn't say a word today, only once did i say anything and it was to my gf about some guy we always see at all kinds of things getting a warrant for his arrest done away with? i don't know what he did but it was shocking and funny. maybe drug stuff, hopefully nothing twisted. if it got thrown out it must be nothing, so good news for that guy, i am happy for that.

i need to write a list of stuff we need tomorrow... my gf is going with her mom to the stores...

fun ditty here.

and then another:

super late now... found an old song and was worried i deleted important files for it... but i didn't!!! i really like this one so i want to redo the vox i recorded and put it out eventually also. another thing in the pile, this one is different from the stuff i'm doing now so it might just be part of a pile of things i put out if i never figure out what to do with some of this other junk sitting around.

i ought to go through a bunch of old things in my files and see if any old ideas are worth saving also. i imagine there will be a lot of stuff i'm like, oh i want to use that, and then there will be too much. so maybe not.

okay, it is 5 am now, and i'm tired. good day today, even getting to write for the longer thing today, becuz of my dream... wow... good day...

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[my-head-is-an-animal]

What She Deserves

Toby Ziegler x OFC (Kaitlin Stone)

Rating/Warnings: Implied Domestic/Sexual Abuse, Some Depictions of Violence, Smut 18+

Summary: Kaitlin Stone works with CJ, Toby has loved her for eight years, since the beginning of the campaign trail. Kaitlin's abusive boyfriend is the only thing standing in his way from getting what he wants and giving her what she deserves.

Chapter 7

It was hours before any news came out of the operating room. CJ had forced Toby to go home and at the very least clean the blood off of his hands, but she needed to physically drive him there herself to get him to leave.

     He was scared he would miss something, but Ashley had promised to call if anyone came out looking for him with news.

     He was back within and hour and even though Ashley had promised to call him, it didn’t stop him asking every question under the sun about her condition.

     Finally, a doctor came out to speak with them.

     ‘Are you the husband?’ He asked.

     ‘No, no, I’m a friend. A work colleague. A friend.’ Toby shook his head, just wanting to hear that she was going to be okay. ‘Is she going to be okay?’

     ‘Miss Stone suffering some serious damage to her lungs, the knife pierced through her rib cage and the blood loss was extensive from her thigh, but we’ve just managed to get the internal bleeding under control.’ The doctor explained, he wasn’t sure if it was good news, or not. ‘She’s not out of the woods yet, we’ve still got some work to do on her punctured lung and a rupture in her intestines, but it will take another few hours. I’d suggest you take this time to go home and get some rest.’

     Toby was speechless. CJ ended up thanking the doctor as he went back in to save Kaitlin’s life.

     Toby turned around and felt his temper rising once again. ‘I’m going to kill him.’ He said, more to himself than anyone else.

     ‘No, you’re not,’ CJ was the only one keeping her head. ‘You’re going to go home and get some rest like the doctor says.’

     ‘What good is me getting rest while that maniac is out there?!’

     ‘What good is you getting yourself in trouble while Kaitlin fights for her life?’ CJ snapped back.

     ‘It’ll make me feel better.’

     ‘Oh really? You think it’ll make Kaitlin feel better when she wakes up?’

     Toby didn’t have an answer for that.

     ‘Toby, Ron and his team are out there searching for Dan right now.’ CJ managed to get him to sit down again. ‘They will find him and you telling them about that recording is going to go a long way to making sure he can’t hurt Kaitlin ever again.’

     Toby thought for a moment. He was quietly thinking about how best he could get his revenge.

     ‘Fine.’ He said, standing up, grabbing his coat and moving to leave.

     ‘Fine? You’re going home to rest?’ CJ confirmed.

     ‘I’m going to the office.’ Toby said, leaving the hospital.

     ‘Toby.’ CJ followed him. ‘I really don’t think you’re in any condition to-‘

     ‘What about my condition?’ Toby snapped, turning to face her. ‘He tried to kill her CJ! Right now, he’s succeeding. You heard the doctors, she isn’t out of the woods yet! What if she doesn’t…’

     Toby couldn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t notice Leo approaching them.

     ‘Well, no need to ask for an update then.’ He said.

     ‘They’ve dealt with the internal bleeding, but they’re still working on her lung, blood loss and a rupture in her intestines.’ Toby repeated quietly.

     ‘How much longer before we get an update?’ Leo could see Toby getting impatient.

     ‘A few hours.’

     ‘Good, that’ll give you and the President time to discuss what will happen next.’

     Toby gave Leo a disbelieving look.

     ‘What? You thought he wouldn’t want to be kept in the loop?’ Leo raised his eyebrow. ‘You know her situation better than any of us Toby, and he needs to know how best to protect her. So, go and tell the President of the United States how his junior press secretary got admitted into this hospital and how she needs to be treated when she gets out.’ Toby hesitated for a moment. ‘It’s not a request. I’ll wait here until you get back.’

     He didn’t have much choice. CJ took him back to the west wing so he could meet with the President and tell him everything he knew about Kaitlin Stone.

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Masterlist

[imadethisaccountforaheadcannon]

Randomly found one of my old artwork I miss the days where at least some characters truely actually cared for moon even through sun didn't I could see lunar and moon each fighting to put eachother to sleep

With lunar he's trying to put moon to sleep for obvious reasons with moon he's trying to put lunar to sleep because even a state like this he would want to keep lunar from getting hurt

Then KC Showed up indirectly confirming that moon is kind person,Sure lunar was scared of KC but KC ounce he became sentient actually was very protective of lunar as well

Yet as soon as Earth got introduced and sun went of his rampage they made everything all about him

Instead of blaming himself for leaving moon stuck in his head for so long and I got proclaimed "wrong " everytime I got mad about this

That moons just a "killer" and every good thing was due to sun even through moon was literally the only one who actively did everything in his power to be good and sun actually did bad

When lunar just ditched his previous moon group if he was there supporting bloodmoon instead of Earth being the "bestest thing ever" things might have turned out better for bloodmoon

I actually forgot I didn't hate her a much as sun originally

I only hated her more then sun after she broke up with Monty the first time she broke up with Monty while unfairly blaming moon for the deaths sun's emotional abuse caused

Monty did not do shit to deserve it, I see him beating up foxy and find out he instantly took her back because she just happen to be depicted as the one worth loosing yourself over

It would have been better if he just told her she wasn't worth it and stayed in the safe ditch where she left him

She treated those who had is way more harder then her like crap just like sun before her and also like him she got the good end of doublestandards because she got to hit bloodmoon outta physical self defence but moon was seen as an abuser for hitting sun outta emotional self defence

Yet there has been many doublestandards in this show yet the only one that got the spotlight was the one about sun killing gets the focus

Moons whole damn minority got wiped out and everyone ended up excusing it away with its okay they kill people ignoring the fact that it's apart of how they are coded and most of them have been shown to stability function yet all of this was just thrown out just to play house with earth and endlessly use sun's truama as an excuse

I hate how this show turned out I'm giving it a chance due to moon being back but it's small

Its probably be more uwu sun did nothing wrong everything sun did was conviently needed as Mary Sues just happen to be

[redlenai]

i think you should know that "CP" isn't called that anymore because it can be seen as legitimizing it, the correct term is "Child Sexual Exploitation Material" or CSEM which also makes it clearer that it's not sexually explicit works involving minor characters, it's sexually exploitative by its very nature. Though a lot of the people your post addresses do still use the old term probably specifically because they would rather get mad about anime than real kids (considering multiple times they have been caught sharing CSEM with eachother including TO children??)

I honestly don't keep up with terms as much, since they constantly change them to either avoid shadowban no matter from which side discourse may come

No matter the platform I'm in or any controversies that I see especially against NSFW artists, people usually use CP despite it is not the correct term, to be honest, is the first time that I've heard it, and even in Spanish it is named CP too despite the proper translation would be "Porno Infantil = PI". Still thank you for the clarification

Funnily enough, I believe you're right, because if it's NSFW done in other styles besides anime, I don't see as many people complaining. And yeah, I just can't get this virtual signaling and having a dozen skeletons in the closet, even to me despite I've hanged around with lots of people that seem to contradict themselves in certain things, this particular one is the one I cannot comprehend entirely.

And this may be from my personal experience, but anime NSFW artists are less suspicious for me than SFW cartoon artists. I don't want to put prejudgement nor put anyone in the same bag, yet its bad that most of my experiences with some SFW cartoon artists ended up with them trying to groom a minor or well, that they abused their partners.

I don't know if maybe its the trauma since my groomer was a Pucca fan, but usually... the more... kid friendly and involved in a community with kids with the "older sibling" kinda attitude just makes me wary of them.

Of course, maybe some of them were victims of someone that maybe was into anime? I really don't know, but it gets kinda tiring to see the:

"THIS NSFW ARTIST MAKES CONTENT WITH KIDS! LET'S CANCEL THEM, DIE! KILL YOURSELF"

to then, either the topic dies in two months or then

"Oh it was a false alarm, I'm just worried for the safety of kids"

Which also! Relates to the situation regarding credit card companies and Mature platforms, a lot of current laws in theory are to "protect children" but most of the time they just don't want said content to be regulated, or be behind paywalls or to demand confirmations or have other security methods to avoid children getting where they shouldn't be getting into. Because a lot of times happens that unsupervised children end up going to certain places out of curiosity and then they end up engaging with certain people, some may try to bring reason into them just to be called out a Karen and others, well... will take advantage of them.