#and like i dont even think that guys dead

[nemesyaaa]

kxizkfkzkdke oh my god, the situation is so intense, it's feel like watching an action movie but with words stucked on papers (screen*) but anyways, that's so fucking fantastic. this is getting even more fun. but i love how they handle the case and this reader is amazing. she's offers us a good dynamic with rafe. that's so well-written, can't believe you're the same girl who feeds me with zach mclaren fics because this is truly two diff atmosphere. the light and the dark. 😩😩🫶🏿

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once. — this is just such a powerful line to introduce the second chapter ‼️

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth. — «They’d watch. They’d let him die. » I just think i dont feel good about this. my baby deserves some more love (I KNOW, he isn't a good guy but PLEASE, he went through a lot 😭😭😭)

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying. — the last line, I felt that so much. she never gonna forget about him, even if he's dead. and the fact, that she killed him with rafe make the situation less forgettable. this is so sad :((

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him. — but he's now your partners in crime. dont you dare screw him

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons. — ahh the selfishness IS back ‼️ no but rafe feeling the need to protect the reader ?? i'm in, I WANT TO SEE HOW torn he is it about this

the act of unravelling (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Rafe stands and looks down at the body, his fists clenched tightly. Reality is setting in now. He could go to prison. His future could be ruined.

He’s perpetually at the mercy of his impulsivity, thinking only of the minute he’s living in, burdened with the consequences later. But still, even with his head a little clearer, he doesn’t regret this.

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once.

You feel heavy as you push yourself up off the floor. You wish you could curl up in your bathtub under hot, gushing water, washing away everything that happened tonight.

The corpse is harder to look at with every second that passes. You glance up at Rafe, blood splattered on his face as he stares down at what he’d done, at what you’d done, chillingly unfazed.

“We can’t leave anything that’ll point back to me,” he mumbles, his voice low over the fireworks still crackling outside.

“Or me,” you have to remind him tensely.

His eyes land on yours. He’s always only looking out for himself. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to worry about someone else.

“I’m serious,” you urge. Your survival instinct rushes through you for the second time tonight. You refuse to let Rafe throw you to the wolves. “I saved your life. You owe me. I won’t take the fall for this.”

“Well, neither will I,” he snaps.

“You shot him.”

“I could say you did,” Rafe replies. “And it’d be your word against mine. What then?”

You scoff, in disbelief of his selfishness.

“I saved your life,” you repeat. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth.

“We’ll look out for each other, alright?” he relents, letting his guard down for a moment. “Let’s just clean this up.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again. You pull it out, seeing Pope’s name. Twelve missed calls.

You hope your friends don’t get so worried that they come up here, ignoring the Off Limits sign Porter had put up across the stairs. But they don’t know where you went. You’re almost certain.

“My friends keep calling me,” you whisper.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. His friends aren’t worrying about him.

“You can’t answer them,” he snaps.

“I know.” You let out a shaky sigh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “We have to be fast. What do we do? Do we bury him?”

Rafe takes a beat to think.

“We dump him in the ocean,” he finally says. “We go to the marina and drive my boat out far enough where nobody will find him.”

“How do we move him so nobody sees? We can’t go through the house. We might run into someone.”

Rafe looks to the glass door on the other end of the room, the balcony offering a view of the inky night sky.

“There,” he says. “We’ll push him off and put him in the back of my truck.”

You consider it. Of the limited options you have, it seems like the only one worth trying.

“Okay. We have to clean the blood off the floor,” you say. “And everything we touch needs to be wiped. Maybe there’s something with bleach in it around here?”

For the first time since you entered this room, you feel hope. There’s a chance, a real chance, you could get away with this. You look back at the desk Rafe ransacked.

“Pick that stuff up,” you say. Frustration rolls through him. He never liked being bossed around. “I’ll try to find something to clean with.”

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Rafe mutters.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you huff before you turn towards the door.

You tiptoe through the second story, peeking into a bathroom cupboard. When you find a spray bottle that reads Cleaner and Bleach on the packaging, you grab it and head back to the room.

You and Rafe move quickly and quietly, using clothes you found in the closet to wipe everything with bleach. After a loud, consonant cracking of fireworks that you assume is the grand finale, the show ends. And you know people are on their way back to the house.

The neighbor’s private beach can’t be that far away. You have a minute. Maybe two.

You’re glad Rafe thinks to find the shell of the bullet. He puts it in his pocket. You spray the bleach over the floor again, cleaning every drop of blood you can see.

“Tuck this stuff under his shirt,” you say breathlessly, handing Rafe the bottle and the blood-soaked clothes.

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying.

You pick the gun up off the floor, then open the balcony, relieved you can’t hear any voices yet. You peer over the edge to see the sandy ground. The balcony overlooks the side of the house, dark and secluded.

Rafe grunts as he drags the corpse out onto the balcony. You have to muster up every bit of strength you have as you help heave Porter’s body over the railing. He falls with a hard thud, facedown in the sand.

You have to jump the balcony. You can’t risk going downstairs. Rafe is wide-eyed as you hitch your leg over the railing, looking down with shaky breaths.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Let me go first. If you break something, we’re fucked.”

He shifts down as low as he can before letting his feet hang over the edge. He lets go, dropping hard, his ankles pinching with pain from the impact.

“Okay,” he says. “Go.”

You feel a splinter dig into your palm as you clutch onto the wooden railing with one hand while the other holds the gun. You make the split-second decision to keep the balcony door open to air out the smell of bleach.

You hope you cleaned away every drop of blood in the room. There’s no going back to it now.

You sink, hanging as low as you can, looking over your shoulder before you drop. Rafe’s arms wrap around you as your feet hit the ground, his chest hard against your back, breaking your fall.

“If someone comes,” he whispers in your ear, “run.”

Waiting for him to get his truck is torture. The humid night air presses against your face and you can’t bear to look down at the body on the ground.

Rafe returns and you move quickly, straining as you carry the body over the uneven terrain, the soles of your shoes slipping on the sand.

Once the body is in the trunk and Rafe unfolds the cover, blanketing the cab and concealing the evidence, you feel a shred less frightened.

You glance back into the darkness just in case. A glow of a phone screen is in the sand. Rafe is already behind the wheel, demanding that you get in, his voice carrying through the open rear window.

You feel for your phone. It’s still in your pocket.

“Do you have your phone?” you whisper.

He responds after a moment, “Yes. Get in.”

“I think his phone fell on the ground when we were carrying him,” you say. “We should–”

Faint laughs in the distance interrupt you. There’s no time to run back and get the phone without being seen.

“Get the hell in,” Rafe mutters angrily.

You obey, swinging open the door, barely closing it in time as Rafe peels away. Your muscles prick from the weight you’d just carried as you drive past the partygoers coming back from watching fireworks.

“Holy shit,” Rafe chuckles, near elated. “We did it.”

You stare ahead, your head foggy.

This will haunt you for the rest of your life. The thought forces a torrent of dread through you worse than you’ve ever felt before.

What if you’d run out of the room when Rafe and Porter came in? What if you’d left Rafe to deal with the body on his own?

What if you’d never gone upstairs?

You’re destined to agonize over the what if’s of tonight forever.

You gaze down at the gun in your lap and hold your hands out in front of you, skin stinging from the bleach. You’d wiped away the blood, but you think you’ll always see it on your hands.

You figure out that it’s a good thing you left Porter’s phone. If he was sharing his location, you’re sure the police could track where it was last before you threw it into the sea with him. They’d know exactly where to look for his body.

“We should shut off our phones,” you realize. “I think they can track GPS history from cell towers.”

Rafe digs into his pocket, glancing down to watch the screen go black.

“How’d you think of that?” he mumbles with a laugh. “Is this not your first time doing this, Pogue?”

“Nothing about this is funny,” you reply.

“Relax,” he says. “We got away with it.”

“You can’t be so sure,” you say. “One fingerprint in that room and…”

You can’t think about it.

In the paroxysm of emotions you’re already feeling, guilt digs a hole into your stomach when you see Pope’s most recent text before you power off your phone.

Answer the phone. We’re worried.

·········

The clock on Rafe’s dashboard reads 10:44 when you reach the marina. He parks right by the main dock. The place seems quiet, the water crowded with seemingly unoccupied boats.

“I’ll take a walk around to make sure we’re alone,” he says, pulling his key out of the ignition.

The car door slams shut and you’re left with a gun in your lap, a body in the trunk, and your tormenting thoughts.

Maybe you missed something back in that room.

You picture Porter’s phone lighting up in the sand. His last text to you said to come upstairs. When the cops inevitably start searching for answers, you’ll be questioned.

A minute later, Rafe swings open your door, pulling you out of your daze. You meet his glare, his hair tousled and sweaty.

“We’re good,” he says. “Move.”

Having to haul the body over the dock past darkened, quiet boats is unnerving. Ater you leave it at the back of Rafe’s boat, you stand behind him at the helm.

Your arms are crossed and the gun is tucked by your elbow, because if you learned anything tonight, it’s that you can’t trust anyone.

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him.

“I should wait in the car,” you mumble. Rafe shakes his head in frustration, driving the boat forward. The boat’s motor hums as you rock with its movements.

“No,” he mutters condescendingly. It reminds you of why underneath the stubborn pull you’ve always felt towards him, you’ve also harbored a quiet fear. Rafe is violent. Possibly enough to hurt you the same way Porter did.

You feel for the gun again. If two men have to die tonight, so be it. The fact that your mind went there chills you.

Rafe looks over at you, lips twisting in annoyance.

“Don’t feel bad for that asshole,” he mutters. “He asked for it.”

It’s the worst possible thing he could’ve said. Your throat is raw with the threat of tears. Asked for it. Would he say the same about what happened to you?

“I don’t regret it,” you tell him, sure that he’s assuming that that’s why you’re so tense. “I’m just worried we missed something.”

“If we did, nothin’ we can do about it now,” he says. You look ahead at the dark sea, moonlight shining over the water’s ripples.

“We need to figure our story out,” you say. “How’d you end up upstairs? Did anyone see you?”

“I stopped him while everyone was going outside to watch the show,” he recalls. “Told him to show me where he was keeping his coke because I heard he was selling again. It was loud. I don’t think anyone heard, but maybe someone saw. I don’t know.”

“Why do you sell?” you ask, face pinched in confusion. “Why did you even care that he was selling, too? You don't have enough money already?”

“I gotta keep your tips coming, don’t I?” he says smugly. You scoff, jarred by his blasé attitude, despising his cold arrogance.

He notices the angry scowl on your face. He’s convinced he’ll never break through the hatred you have for him.

“I want to make my own money. That’s why,” he admits. It’s half the truth, but it’s good enough.

It’s surprising to hear that Rafe, a man you thought coasted on the wealth he was born into, possesses a work ethic. Even though he uses it to deal drugs.

“Did anyone see you go upstairs?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you say.

“Why were you there?”

You chew on your lip, the truth sitting on your chest like a ton of bricks. There’s no point in telling him. He thinks your motive was the same as his. Money. And you’ll let him believe it.

Besides, talking about it now, merely an hour afterwards, will only make you cry again and your head is pounding from how much you’ve already wept tonight. How could you possibly say it out loud?

“To buy pot. Then I smoked too much and passed out.” You keep talking before he can ask anything else. “Are we far out enough?”

Rafe looks back to make sure the marina is out of sight before he kills the engine.

Pushing Porter’s body over the guardrail is harder than the other times you’d carried him tonight. The water is rocking the boat so much now that you’re far into the ocean. Your breath is strained as you heave him over the metal, his body hitting the water with a loud splash under the bright moon.

Rafe pulls out the bullet shell in his pocket and tosses it in the water. You know you have to throw the gun in, too. It’s hard to. But you do it.

Rafe looks over the edge now that everything is sinking to the bottom, his forearm brushing against yours. He notices how quickly you jerk away, refusing to let him touch you. The pull he feels towards you is obviously one-sided. Your eyes flit away when you look at him.

“You have blood on your face,” you tell him soberly. His temper flares, feeling stupid for thinking a girl could feel anything but afraid of him after he shot someone right in front of her. Even though she was the one who told him to do it.

You might have a deadly thirst for revenge in common, but that’s where the similarities end. He stalks past you to wash himself off in the bathroom below the deck.

You let out a shaky breath. The unexpected contact with Rafe startled you. After tonight, you’re sure you’ll always be scared to be around men you don’t know all that well. Even the ones that seem decent are just lions in sheep’s clothing. The monster that proved that to you is below the ocean’s surface now.

You look into the murky water, and despite the fear and the anxiety and dread weighing on your heart, you’re glad that this is how it ended. Porter paid the ultimate price for what he did to you. He doesn’t deserve to live, to smile, to feel anything ever again.

·········

You and Rafe sit behind the hull, the boat swaying with the tide. You start to piece together an alibi and decide to admit you were upstairs together. If even one person says they saw either one of you go up there, you won’t be caught in a lie.

As you talk, Rafe can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re clearly scared, but trying to stay level-headed. He doesn’t get how you do it. He’s always been bad at keeping his mind steady. He never had a reason to even try.

“So, I went up first after he texted me to come buy from him,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. “I got high and passed out. Then you came up with him to find his stash. We’re obviously going to have to come clean about the drugs.”

“What do you mean obviously?”

“You’re going to be a suspect the second the police start talking to people,” you tell him. “Everyone knows you had an issue with him. And why. You can’t lie about the coke. And they’ll have evidence that I was buying weed from him. We have to be honest about it. They’ll find out anyway.”

Rafe sighs, knowing you’re right.

You hug yourself as a cool breeze carries over the water. The weakness in your gaze reminds Rafe of the way you’d cried on the floor earlier tonight. Before all this, he only ever saw you as strong-willed and sharp-tongued.

Even though calming a man like Rafe down when he’s angry sounds like it’d be impossible, you figure it’s the only direction your alibi can go.

“We’ll say I talked you down and…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t make sense that we’d stay up there. I think we say we left him in his room and sat on the beach alone in front of the house to watch the fireworks from there.”

You worry it’s not enough. You’re certain that no one who knows either one of you would buy that you voluntarily spent time together.

“Maybe the cops would believe we hung out,” you mumble, “but nobody else would.”

Rafe stills. His friends like to give him crap about how much time he spends talking to you when he supposedly hates Pogues. If he told them he was with you all night, they’d say they saw it coming.

“They could,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“My friends would never believe it,” you scoff. He purses his lips, pissed off at your tone, at the clear implication that you talk shit about him with your friends.

“It’s our only option,” he mutters sharply.

“You’re right,” you give in. “Then what? We went home before people got back? I guess that way if anyone saw us leave together, we have it covered.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “That’s the story.”

“Okay. It’s not great, but it’s the best we can do.” You check your phone for the time, only to remember it’s turned off. “Can you drive me home now? I’ll say my phone died. You should do the same when people ask where you’ve been.”

Rafe doesn’t admit to you that nobody was checking up on him, that nobody ever does. He only stands up to drive back to the dock.

·········

Your first priority when you get home is to text your friends, guilt consuming you now that it’s been over two hours since you last saw them and they have no idea what happened to you.

You turn on your phone to see a string of missed calls and texts from the guys. You open the group-chat and type: I’m so sorry. I’m okay. Got too high and lost track of time. Home now.

They video call you to be sure that you really made it home safe, drunkenly rambling on about how they assumed you went to see the fireworks early, leaving them to search the neighbor’s beach for you.

As you listen to them talk over each other on the phone, it’s the first time you see your reflection since you left the house, when you were oblivious to the fact that the impending hours would change you forever.

You can see it in your eyes that you’re not the same. You can only hope that they don’t catch on.

·········

It’s been three days. You haven’t been sleeping. You’ve hardly been eating. And no matter how many times you tell yourself there’s no use in thinking about how different the night could have turned out, it doesn’t stop your head from spinning into hypotheticals.

All you told your friends was that you were with a boy and that they didn’t need to know any more. Because they all see you as a sister, they were happy to be spared the details.

If only they knew. A few nights ago, you promised them you wouldn’t talk about Rafe ever again. You never would’ve thought the reason would be because you’d committed a crime together.

You’re back at work. Smiling and chatting and serving drinks and acting like everything is fine is harder than you expected.

The thought of seeing Rafe again is oddly comforting. No matter how twisted it is, you have a bond now, held together by secrecy and shared trauma. He’s the closest to knowing what you’re going through.

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons.

No matter how unhinged he is, having someone like him in your corner is comforting after what you’d suffered through.

You spot Rafe sitting alone at the near empty club bar on your way out and your heart settles, but when you catch a glimpse of the flatscreen mounted on the wall a moment later, it drops. You knew it was inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any better.

Rafe swallows bitter whiskey, gazing up at the tv. Under a photo of Porter reads MISSING as his parents speak to the press. What if he went missing? Who’d care? What would his dad say – at least it wasn’t Sarah?

He looks down at the bartop. The thrill of what he did has faded. It’s not a surprise. His life is nothing but a cycle of short-lived highs.

When he sees the look on Porter’s parents’ faces on the tv, jealousy and loneliness screw a hole into his heart. He knows it’s fucked up to envy the man he killed. He doesn’t care.

His eyes drift over the bar to see you standing on the other end. You’re in shock as you stare up at the broadcast, looking guilty as hell. He glares at you until you finally meet his eyes.

Rafe curtly gestures to you to sit next to him. Even though he looks mad, you’re relieved to close the distance between you.

“You’re being obvious,” he says quietly once you sit next to him, an edge to his tone.

You look back to see only a few other people sitting in the restaurant area behind you, far from earshot. You won’t be heard, but you both know you have to speak vaguely just in case.

“Someone I know is missing,” you reply. “It’s normal to be worried about that.”

“What do you know about normal?” he scoffs.

You lock eyes, sure that you’re both replaying the night in your minds, sure that you’re both far from sane after what you did. His gaze is cold, a reflection of how angry he is that you’re not handling what happened as well as he is.

“Great talking to you,” you snip sarcastically, shifting to stand up.

“Wait,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at you again, this time with a bit of the hardness in his eyes gone. “We need to talk.”

next >

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[jaggedamethyst]

…look for the light

joel miller x f!reader | 2.7k

pairing: joel miller (tlou) x fem reader

content: you're tired of hearing that old slogan from the fireflies...but maybe you should give it a chance.

notes: 18+ minors dni, eventual smut for the girlies (smfh + side eye) also unprotected in the heat of the moment unfortunately…dont be like them! angst because it's my specialty, mental health depictions (illusions to death, depression, etc. do not read if that's a serious trigger) this takes place in the time jump between tlou 1 and tlou 2…tons of existential crisis otw, grief, everything unfortunately…and i still don’t believe in proofreading

also this is the longest i've written so far...of course it involves joel too...hashtag need that.

 ࿐ ࿔*:·ﾟ🍂🌿༄。°          ° 。༄🌿🍂·ﾟ*࿔ ࿐

You hadn’t arrived in Jackson on your own. At the time, you were one of a family of four. As time passed, the number dwindled along with your will to live. Back when everything was normal--or as normal as it could’ve been in a world that corrupt, you saw a therapist. You knew it was in their career description to listen. It helped sometimes, others it didn’t. Overall, though, you’d say they’d done a shit job if at the first sign of loss, you wanted to cease to exist. 

When you weren’t overthinking, you found yourself on patrol. It became ironic that you rejoiced at the sight of a fresh dead body. Knowing that the person before you had made a mistake you could now avoid lit a small fire in you. The flame didn’t last long though, quickly blown out every day with a speed just as fast as its ignition. 

To be candid, there was this guy. Well, this man. You couldn’t do him the injustice of calling him anything but a man. You saw him often--sometimes to himself, others with this girl. No matter the circumstance, though, he rarely spoke. You liked that. Something about people who acknowledged their capability to not speak made you extremely happy. Silence is a valid option. 

As an observer, you learned his name was Joel, the girl Ellie. They’d arrived about the same time as you, which explained the lack of interaction. This was, of course, aside from glances, the fake half-ass smiles you exchanged, and your time on patrol together. 

Unfortunately, he was the worst. It absolutely burned you up. That, and the fact that even when he annoyed you, you wanted to have extremely private time with him. 

The first time you actually spoke, he’d found you by a stream. You didn’t know he was showing the girl, Ellie, something that day. But as you lay with your eyes closed, taking in the sunlight--a shadow cascaded over you. 

You opened one eye to see who’d stepped in the way. Before you could get a word out, he spoke, “You from Jackson?”

“Who’s asking?” You created a sort of visor over your eyes with your hand. 

He huffed, “someone from Jackson.” 

Resuming your position on the ground, you spoke, “You some sort of Jackson cop? You seem like the cop type.” 

He scoffed. You realized he did that a lot, not speaking, making annoyed sounds. Not answering questions directly. 

“You should get back.” 

With a quirked brow, you replied, “I’m good, thanks.” 

“Wasn’t really a question.”

“Didn’t say it was.” 

By this point you’d opened your eyes again, surveying the man. You kind of felt bad for being snippy but honestly, he interrupted your “alone with my thoughts” time. Some people can cope without thinking of the same incidents in a constant loop. Not you--you liked the hurt. It reminded you to be safe. To not trust people. 

Even in that position, though, you observed the man. He looked rough, but in a way that motioned toward experience. There were hints of gray in his hair, yet he didn’t look old. His shirt was slightly opened, tattered. The sheen of sweat covering him made him all the more alluring in the sunlight. 

“Are you gonna get the hell up and get a move on or what?” 

You didn’t know him at the time, or that he was trying to surprise Ellie on her birthday. Even worse, that on this day, he’d thought of his daughter. He was coping. Anyone or anything out of place was shattering the amazing plan he had made to go a day without feeling like a disappointment. 

He didn’t know that your “alone with my thoughts” time often consisted of thinking of your family. You’d willed yourself to shut your eyes tight, picturing those you lost; it was the only time you could see them. If you got lucky, you could dream of them. If you were unlucky, you’d see images of their mangled bodies. 

It seemed that even awake, your luck was the fucking worst. 

With swift and silent movements, you stood and turned to leave. Avoiding eye contact was the only way to hide the tears prickling in your eyes. 

“Dude,” a young voice called out, “you hurt her feelings!”

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to, Ellie!” 

Like you said, he was the worst. But you definitely took it to the next level at every opportunity. 

That’s how you found yourself on patrol with Joel giving him the silent treatment. It was customary at this point. If you two went alone, he would bark out orders, you’d follow if you felt like it. If someone else happened to be there, you two would rely on an unspoken rule to only speak to them and not one another. It worked…until today. 

Entrapment wasn’t a new feeling for you. Often on patrol specifically, you would have to maneuver your way out of dangerous positions to return. But the realization of there being nobody to return to hit you today. So even when Joel and Jesse said to stay back, you proceeded. It was a miracle none of you three were bitten or worse. Your reckless act left the trek back to Jackson completely silent. 

When you reached the gate safely, Jesse spoke first. It was obvious he was shaken up but even more annoyed with you. “Kinda fucked up you did that. Did you even consider that you would put me and Joel in danger?” 

“Nobody told you to follow me, to be honest.” 

“I don’t give a fuck! When we leave, we work together… or we don’t go.” 

Joel shook his head silently, observing the way Jesse continued to rip into you. You continued the back and forth until Jesse hit extremely low. 

“Look, I know you lost people…I remember them-”

You spoke over him, a finger out in warning, “Don’t-” 

“And just because you feel like there is no worth left in your sorry ass life, doesn’t mean I wanna die right now. Not for you. Not on a stupid patrol mission.” 

It felt like he punched you. Square in the face. The way your breath left you was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Not since the day you realized your entire family was gone. As a result of that day, you grew accustomed to silent walks back to your house. You got used to the sounds your house made between the silence. 

You didn’t hear Joel’s faint footsteps and persistent calls to you as he followed behind. It wasn’t until the unusual sound of your door not immediately closing behind you that you turned around to see him there. 

“You didn’t even stop him, you just stood there like you always do!”

His signature sigh and no response. Just a sort of expectant look on his face. 

“Get. Out. Please.” 

You begged him to leave, your voice breaking. It was somewhere in the midst of you slowly falling toward the floor that he reached you. He knew what you were experiencing right now. The dull panging in your body, a faint scream at you, and a feeling that of anyone it should’ve been you to go, not your family. 

He didn’t want to admit that he recognized the bubble of sadness around you, as he’d be forced to acknowledge his own. The least he could do was to comfort you in a way he had yearned for when he lost Sarah. When he lost Tess. When he thought Tommy was gone. But he failed, as he always did, crying with you. 

He urged you to quiet your sobs, “It’s okay, shhh.” 

His attempts at soothing you were a sort of reassurance to himself--that it was okay. It could be okay. He eventually grasped your face, too, forcing you to look at him. He wanted you to believe him, despite the lack of conviction in his voice. The eye contact shocked you both. You had never seen the man cry let alone been this close to him. From a distance, it's easy to think that any dark-colored eye is just black but his…

“Brown…” You mumbled incoherently. 

“What?”

“Your eyes. I’ve never really looked at ‘em.” 

He was confused, “yeah, brown.” 

“It's just that, it's easy to overlook things…” when you’re so stuck in the past, you wanted to say. But you left it. You had a feeling he understood. 

It was hard to not lean into his touch, even harder to not want to be near him. He noticed you staring, but there was still so much left unsaid. Thinking about it, he never really allowed himself to carry out a conversation with you. But there was an unspoken attraction between you. It was easy to minimize said attraction to one where you needed each other. It was suffice to say that it was more tantamount to the way particles were reliant on one another. Even more, the way symbiosis occurred. Despite the urge to push one another away, you knew that you did, in fact, need each other. 

If not for a long time, at least for now. 

Without a word, you pushed up a bit, meeting your lips with his. He was obviously taken aback; there was so much behind the kiss…but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

You pulled at his shirt, that damned shirt he always liked to wear. Always opened slightly, but never enough to give you what you needed.

“Can I?” You broke the kiss and motioned toward the buttons, breaking eye contact for a second. 

Joel let out a characteristic sound, affirming you, “Mhm, yeah…” 

You moved your hands lower, stopping at the close of his top. “Are you sure?” 

The man understood you. The shirt acted as a sort of metaphorical barrier between the two of you. As much as it scared the both of you to cross that line, there was an unspoken respect for one another. 

He noticed your apprehension, bearing the task of taking down that wall for you both. 

Joel unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, intentional in his action. 

He watched you shiver, “I haven’t…I want…I mean-” 

That same alluring stare maintained its gaze at you, Joel allowing you the time to process and say what you wanted to. 

“I want to feel…be close to you. Not because I want to use you or something…I just,” You searched for words that seemed to escape you. 

His words interrupted your thought process, a gentle but calloused hand returning to your face. 

“You don’t have to have a reason. Use me.” 

That was enough to make you attack him full force. You’d thought of each other so long that there was an urgency. There wasn’t time for niceties or the pleasantries of preparing yourself for him. You just wanted each other immediately. 

The trail of clothing that led to your room was something out of one of those old movies you watched. Before everything went to shit. You allowed yourself a smirk at the thought--Joel hot on your trail. 

Joel observed how clean your place was. He was one to keep tidy, too. Not for the thought of expecting someone, but for lack of people except him. There were few things he held near and dear, so a large space like his home was often unused save for his bed and couch. It seemed you echoed this thought, and that made him even more eager. Knowing you had so much in common made him insatiable.

You found yourselves kissing again, seeking comfort in each other. It was sweet and slow. You couldn’t handle it, the lack of him. 

“Joel, please,” you backed towards the bed. Now fully available for him. With you demanding everything be so structured to protect yourself these days, you were willing to let go for once. 

He didn’t say anything, he never did. But the way he hovered over you, maintained eye contact and pushed into you said enough. 

His pace was somewhere between painfully slow and slower. He felt your wetness, the way you were ready for him already, and it made him harder. He knew he wouldn’t last long if he went any faster. 

You reached up, pushing the hair out of his face. It was a distraction from how good it felt, even the purposely slow pressure, but you wanted more. 

You bucked up into him. He hissed and grunted in your ear, that’s new. 

The southern drawl was even more apparent on the man. “Shit. I’m tryin’ to…make it last,” his head met your shoulder, breath against your skin. “Cant.” 

“Don’t.” 

You couldn’t see his face, but you figured a look of surprise flashed there. It only took a second for him to pick up the pace. Those grunts filled the room; his wordless communication was now music to your ears. 

You continued that way for not much longer--but the high was unlike any other. He reached down to rub between you, making sure you’d finish. The thought of him caring about you in that way and the pointed pressure of his strong hands doing so was enough to make your body pulse against him. 

He pushed you back down, keeping you still, “Don’t move, baby.” 

It was a lot. 

His movements became even more erratic, but it felt so damn good. 

“Where should I?” 

You arched a brow, “You want a little Joel running around here somewhere?” 

He chuckled, so sweetly, too. Fuck. 

“Wow, even full like this you still got a mouth on ya. I’m gonna work on that.” 

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could even complain, latched his mouth onto you until he finished and your voice went dry from calling out his name. 

Okay…

The usual urge to freshen up never came. The smell of Joel was all over you, and you liked it that way. You breathed in and out, processing what happened, fighting to stay awake. The sound of the man’s snores was enough to keep you awake in itself. 

It wasn’t until you heard the snores stop and Joel stirring that you spoke again.

“I’m sorry.” 

Joel turned his head toward you, clearly still half asleep, “For?” 

“For that day, in the woods, when we first met. I was mean.” 

“I understand. A random guy shows up asking questions. You get defensive. It happens to the best of ‘em.” 

There was silence. One long enough that Joel sat up to get out of bed--you stopped him when you spoke. 

“I was thinking of my family,” a pause, and with it, your eyes burned a bit. “I don’t know why I act the way I do. I don’t know why I’m… harsh. Part of me thinks it's because they are always looking at who I have become and are so disappointed. The other part of me thinks that they don’t see me at all…or that they can’t…that there’s nothing more after this. I dunno which feels worse but I know it drives me fucking crazy.” 

He silently reached for your hand, deliberate in his response. “I like to think that the big moments we share with the people we lose are more important than anything after.” He nodded, assuring himself before continuing. “Good or bad, their memory only survives as long as we are thinking of them.” He paused to look toward his wrist, almost out of muscle memory. “Our families may not be here, but even mentioning them proves that they were real. I know my baby girl was real, I can’t fail her by going on like she wasn’t.” He inched closer to you, “If it takes me being sad to know that there was someone I loved here before, I’ll stomach it any day.” 

You nodded slightly. 

“Thanks.” 

A hum resonated from him, and he made his way out of your house. He was elusive as always, and definitely just as attractive..if not more so now. But his words stuck with you. 

That stupid catchphrase from the Fireflies…you’d heard it often. The aftershocks of the group persisted even after they’d slowly dwindled in numbers. When you’re lost in the darkness…

Wiping your eyes, you pulled the covers back a bit more. A lot of time had passed, but for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel like it was ripped from you. 

After a few minutes, the Sun started to rise, heat emanating from your window. You felt the warmth slowly reach your face--closing your eyes. 

For once, you’d look forward to sleep, and even more, the possibility of dreaming.

[halloween4life]

Sanders Sides Animal headcanons because I'm bored

I've been having a lot of thoughts about how Janus and Patton canonically have like, animal traits/feature. While Virgil and Remus only really have animals they're associated with as opposed to canon traits (as far as I'm aware/remember). And how Logan and Roman have no animal associations (again as far as I'm aware/remember). So I'm making headcanons for them organized from most to least 'canon' (in terms of the characters)

(also these are all with the intent of the sides being "humans with animal traits" as opposed to them like, animorphing)

Patton

Can jump the highest out of all the sides it's actually kinda scary

He can turn his legs into frog legs to jump even higher like my guy you do NOT need to be doing all that

He will eat bugs and he hates that fact about himself. One time while cooking dinner there was a fly in the room and he just, grabbed it and ate it without a second thought. He then proceeded to completely give up on life for the next 5 hours.

Virgil tried to bond with him over this and it only made things worse for both of them I think.

On a lighter note I think he makes ribbits and chirping sounds when he's happy or excited

but he will start croaking when he's in any kind of distress

He does have spots on his body, mostly on his back

Janus

I dont care what anyone says this I'm giving this man a rattlesnake tail

The tail isn't always visible like his scales, it's something he retract so he doesn't have to constantly deal with it. Honestly most of his traits that aren't his scales he can chose whether to present them or not

Definitely venomous but he doesn't really know why it does. (Logan was studying the sides' animal features and once he found out bout this, asked for a sample of his venom and proceeded to down it like a shot for research purposes. Neither of them had a good time that day)

Anyway his venom is basically an anesthetic, it will knock you out. (or in Logan's case make you horribly sick for the next 3 hours) (these headcanons were thought of before the latest incorrect quotes video I'm just that good)

Remus

He gives me blue ring octopus vibes

His body is definitely covered in ring patterns, generally they're kinda faded and look like old scares but he can make them more prominent and colorful

Also venomous, I think it would be a paralytic because something something sleep paralysis

Only has 6 tentacles 😔

His tentacles protrude from his back in basically the same way/places as Janus' arms

He can and will fit through any gap imaginable because no bones. He once forced his way through the gap under Virgil's door and he(Virgil) still has nightmares about it

he can regenerate his tentacles, this is often a result of his chopping them off for sushi jokes

Virgil

I feel like he's kinda a tarantula but I'm scared of spiders so I'm not very picky about the specifics

He also only has 6 spider legs (arms?)

They ALSO come out of his back in the same way as Remus and Janus' limbs

Can climb walls

CAN produce webs, but the come out of his fingers (sorry Remus), and they're a very light purple and kinda shimmery

He has sharp teeth, sorry I take no criticism

He does actually have fangs and chelicerae but he tries not to present those as much as it's definitely kinda freaky

Also willing to eat bugs 😔

oh oh oh he has stripes on his arms (horizontal)

HE HAS MULTIPLE EYES

Logan

He's definitely a bird

I know a lot of people make him either a crow or raven (which I totally understand), but I feel like he would be an owl, specifically a barn owl but that may just be the Mexican in me talking

Because of that, this man is dead silent when he moves, and has accidently given everyone heart attacks on multiple occasions

His wings are massive like you would not believe

I don't think he particularly cares for his wings much (i.e. grooming and preening), both because it's a really long and tedious process but also he kinda doesn't see the value in having animal traits, because of this he also doesn't really present his traits as much

He does grow feathers on different parts of his body, most notably on his chest/neck area, he's very self conscious about it

he can fully black out his eyes but it's not actually black it's just a really dark blue

Not really an animal traits hc, but Logan has absolutely gone to each of the sides like "I would like to study you 👁👁"

He does sometimes have very odd body language vecause of this, like he just kinda moves around weird (honestly just watch a video with a barn owl moving around and you'll see what I mean

OH he can turn his head around 270°, usually he uses this to scare the shit out of one of the sides if they are standing behind him

Roman

I'm gonna need yall to hear me out on this one but I feel like if Roman was gonna be associated with any animal it would be a deer

I'm specifically thinking a white tailed deer (not initially conceived as a Bambi reference)

He has bright red antlers and loooves presenting them once their freshly shed (fun fact deers shed their antlers)

That being said, he is actually super self conscious when he's shedding the velvet of his antlers (if you are squeamish about blood don't look it up) because it is 'gross and scary.' For a while Remus was the only one who knew about this.

He has a deer tail sorry I take no criticism

The fastest runner of the sides

he really enjoys just running around, like bro is actually the frolicer

He actually has a very faint darker patch of skin running up from the tip of his nose to his whole forehead (it sounds weird to explain in words but yall are just gonna have to trust me on this)

He has light spots on his back like how baby white tailed deer do

[firefly--bright]

winter sun.

jean kirstein x reader, modern au

summary ; wintery sunsets and a cold walk with jean, secrets being peeled apart. warnings ; none :) a/n ; hey divas im. dying there is so much work i found like a slither of time to write this </3 that being said requests are open even if i'll take time to write them. thank u @ppushable for enabling me to write this taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable , @candleohappiness

main masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿ requests are open!✿ listen to this while reading (shush.)

middle tile art creds ; @plutocisms on tumblr!

The apartment was surprisingly quiet. 

The rare occurrence where sasha’s voice didnt permeate through the thin door of your home, where connie’s protests to jean’s choices in music didnt make their way to your ears even as you were climbing the stairs, the surprising lack of marco’s voice trying to mediate the two while the smell of something deliciously preparing in the kitchen, no doubt being observed with careful precision and hawk-eyed vision of the guy. None of that. It almost sent a chill down your spine, the jingle of your keys being the only thing that could be heard on your floor - your neighbours were tired of complaining about you and your friends’ loudness - and you made sure to not make too much noise unlocking the door.

The curtains were drawn, the only sound coming carefully from your own room, a soft yellow hue from under your door. You put your things away, your socked feet still cold despite being covered, fingers frozen and buried deep in your pockets. 

You pushed the door to your bedroom open with your foot.

Jean sat in your bed - laid down, really, like it was his own. It might as well be, and his hair was set, absorbing the golden light from your bedside lamp, his phone his his hand. He was dressed in your favourite, almost a knowing, well-kept secret in your mind. How he became aware of it you had no idea, but his deeply forest green sweater flowed gently over him, hugging his arms. 

He looked up, his eyes shining, gleaming. “You’re back,” he says, sitting straight up, back no longer supported by the pillow behind him, the cushion only holding an impression of him that youd like to keep forever. A proof of sorts, but that wouldnt be necessary as long as he was infront of you. 

“Hey.” you said, warmly, because that’s what he made you be. You set your bag down at the foot of your bed, and jean gets up with a question on his mouth, his chapped lips spilling out the statement as if he’d been mulling it over for a time longer than himself. “Wanna go see the sunset?” he asked, lips twitching at the corner - another well kept secret in your mind, your favourite passing expression on his face. There were a lot of things you liked about him, in passing, in secret, truth kept hidden between you and your mouth. Kept close, kept quiet. 

You hummed as if you even had to think about the answer. Dramatically, you stretched your arms over you, faking a yawn. “I dont know, jean, im pretty tired,” 

His shoulder slumped in a way where he thought it wouldnt be noticeable - something you couldnt help but notice - and he said, “oh, okay. Some other day th- oh youre fucking with me. Oh, okay. Fuck you,” he says, a joking scowl on his face as he started to walk out your door, refusing to turn his back on you. You laugh in teasing, a small, conscious sound. “Im never going to ask you, now, and years later when im dead-” “-how many years are we talking?” “twenty thousand. Im going to outlive you. You’re going to regret ever doing this to me-” your laugh becomes just a little louder, a little less conscious, a little more comfortable against the sound of his voice, and he smiles wider knowing youre happy. “I’ll write it in my eulogy, then,” you say, following him to the hallway. “you better.” he leads you to where you kept your shoes, your welcome mat folding as he halted infront of it, removing your coat from the rack along with his. “here lies jean kirstein, died out of spite,” you wear your shoes and he holds out your coat to put your arms in. “youre joking about this but im pretty sure that would be the only reason i’d ever die.” he wears his own coat, and the door opens gently, with your laughter replacing the sound of the empty, dimly lit stairway.

There’s really not much of a sun to be seen set. Maybe it was all just an excuse jean made up to hear your voice that warmed him in the freezing cold, and maybe you already knew that, and hoped his hand would brush against yours to remind you of his grounding heat, walking beside you. Coats on your shoulder, you and jean walked around aimlessly in your neighbourhood, treetops barren with the branches cutting through the blueing sky, colouring jean’s stray hairs in their shade. Another well kept secret in your ever-growing list - jean’s hair was like a chameleon. Being light enough to catch the colour of the light shining on him without much protest, and in the mornings when he sat beside you in class, backlit against the closed window with the sun shining painfully through the planes of glass, his hair looked like a crown. A halo, summery and warm but diffusing in his hair like something that was only evidence of holiness, blending into his strands almost seamlessly.

The tip of his nose was red, cheeks and ears taking on the same tint. His breath created a small cloud in the air from his nose, disappearing in a millisecond. Youd keep it there forever, if you could, seeing as his breath warmed your face, every exhale holding a piece of his lungs and the fact that it was so close to you, an evidence of holiness, was more than what you’d asked for in your life. You were sure if you closed your lids you’d see the outline of his face etched in the same light of your bedroom nightlight, lulling you to sleep.

 

“How was your day?” he asks, his voice soft, turning his head towards you. His eyes reflect your figure and its the only way youd want to see yourself. 

“Alright. Oh! After my last class, i was just talking to some people in my class with the professor-” “-zoe?” “yeah!” your voice lilts upwards, a physical proof. He remembered your schedule for today. “And we were just, yknow, talking, and they started telling us about the one time they got into a barfight.” jean snorts. “Honestly, i wouldnt expect less form them.” “me too. It started out as them and the other guy arguing about some fact and the guy just refused to listen to them so they had to google it and, yknow, they were right, and the guy refused to believe it. Got punched in the face. And then they showed us a scar from the stitches on their chin after they fell down at the curb.” jean laughed. “I wish i still had their class.” he said, and your hands brushed just as predicted and hoped. Your boots crunched the ground below you, your footsteps in sync with his, and jean retracted his hand. “Jesus, youre cold.” he remarked, looking at you, and you shrugged. “What can you do?” you asked. A rhetoric, helpless question. 

But jean’s hand enveloped yours, your feet coming to a halt with his, standing face to face with both your hands held by jean's warm fingers, burning like a furnace, set ablaze like your heart, a hearth around your previously frozen closed digits. There was a breeze, somewhere, far away to you, and jean’s eyes looked at yours with gentleness and no secrets. His shoulders relaxed, as if holding your hands like this was something natural and unplanned and comfortable - it was - but it was new, and you’d always assumed that change set your heart racing because it was too much. But then this was change, too, and your heart was normal, only a little bigger, comfortable against your chest that seemed so close to his. Maybe it was only comfortable because of that fact.  

He breathed into your hand, his own creating a shell around yours to keep the heat locked in just as you had thought about. A piece of his lungs, disappearing in a moments notice, a moments silence, a moment too long, comfortably stretched out under your well-kept secrets that you werent sure were so well-kept anymore. 

“Pretty today.” he comments, his eyes anywhere but to you now, and you wonder if you heard him right, but his breath lies there, unapologetic, heard, content around you. A piece of his lungs wraps around you, sinking into your layers of clothes and skin until it hits your bones. Somewhere, distant and clouded, the sun sets slowly. “Thank you,” you say, wondering if you should spill your own secret. “I like you in green.” you say. It sounds stupid and embarrassing to admit, and now it’s your turn to avert your eyes and stare and your hands. Theyre warm now. Jean hasnt stopped holding them. 

“I know.” he says. “Thats why i wear it so often.” “it makes your eyes look warm.” you say, clearing your throat, “colour theory, i think,” you excuse. 

You feel him nodding slowly, and his hands tug on your gently, pulling your body closer to his. Your chin tilts up, just in time to catch his breath, again, so close to yours, disappearing not before mingling with your exhale, piece of your lungs, in the still air. “Colour theory.” he repeats, and its clear that the excuse didnt work on him, not because hes smirking the way he usually is when he spots your poorly concealed truth, but with a pinch between his brows, subtle enough to be almost hidden. You catch it anyway. 

“Is there…. any colour theory to… to support why you look so…pretty?” he asks, face scrunching at the end, cringing at his own question. You smile. He shakes his head, a strand of his hair slipping onto his forehead. The wind brushes it away and you allow it to because of your preoccupied hands. “Forget i said that,” “its the blue,” you breathe, providing him with a clearly fake statement, but its not a secret this time. It doesnt hide behind your teeth, freeing into the wind, wrapping around him unapologetically. 

His lips twitch, sacred secrets still in your hands but theyre in his warm ones now, so you suppose its okay. 

“The blue?” he asks, small smile on his slightly cracked, cold lips. Your reflection is in his eyes and youre close enough to see the blue that tints the corner of his pupils - colour theory. Whatever it was. “Yeah. the sky, i think.” 

“The sky makes you pretty?” he asks, and you copy his smile despite yourself. “Yeah. maybe.” 

He nods again, slowly. Your words soak into his skin, warming his muscles, relaxing his shoulders. “I like blue.”

“I like green,” you say.

You have matching smiles on your faces, and you lean your lips to his hands, placing a small kiss there, a proof of your secrets, the ability of them spilling out one day, the possibility of comfort that jean provided openly, without remorse, to you. The fog his breath was creating came to a halt. You looked back to him, and your nose bumped against his cold, pink one. “I… there’s no sun.” he said, almost desperately, holding himself together by flimsy reasoning, but you broke his resolve without even trying. “Its okay. Its there somewhere. Close your eyes, maybe you can see it.” 

His eyes fluttered shut. In the darkness, he could see the outline your shape left under his lids. “Are you seeing it?” you ask, and your lips are so close together now its dizzying, and you wouldve collapsed if it werent for the way you held onto eachother’s hands. 

Jean nods. In the darkness, under his lids, he traces every line of your face, a piece of his heart. 

“Good. then we’re seeing the same sun.” you say. Jean opens his eyes to see your own closed, hands in his, growing warmer. He didnt remove his hands. 

“Yeah. we are.” he agrees, eyes glancing at your lips, waiting for your eyes to open.

When they do, you find a question in his. Warm, complimenting the colour of his sweater, gleaming in the blue of the sky. You inch closer to him with your own answer, your lips pushed slightly apart, waiting for your secrets to be unleashed into his own poorly concealed ones behind his usually clenched jaw. 

His lips are chapped. A little cold. So were your hands, but his touch warmed you, and you hoped your own lips warmed his, taking his breath - a piece of his lungs - into yours, and he pushed a little gently into you, chasing your own heart, tasting whatever was closest to the sun.

and then his lips are off of yours and the sun had set, but jean was still warm, a piece of his lungs stuck to your tongue and a piece of the sun stuck between his teeth. he'd keep it there.

[alchcrockstarsz]

hannibal lecter SLANDER rant pt.2 [spoilers +2x06]

“ I wonder how many more people are going to get hurt by what you do.” what about what YOU do hannibal HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF THAT have you ever sat and thought about the countless people you tortured to death, killed, ate and SERVED to other people equally hurting them HMMM GUESS FUCKING NOT. the blatant hypocrisy of this guy drives me insane but what more i can expect from a literal cannibalistic serial killer, also dont sit there all like “you hurt me…” HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU HURT WILL ITS AN EVEN PLAYING FIELD NOW YOU SORE FUCKING LOSER. 1-20 BITCH also my i think my last rant was a little too critical towards hannigram (i still dont get it yet..trying) so i will apologize to you guys i understand now that all my hate wasnt toward the ship but toward hannibal himself, he enrages me like no other character, his actions infuriate me, i want him DEAD!!!!! I WANT HIS DOWNFALL TO BE SO BAD THAT HE NEVER GETS THE CHANCE TO RECOVER

[skythealmighty]

hey gang sorry for disappearing from tumblr i have been uhhh. i dunno actually but i got into epithet erased so that's cool. i should catch up on ppt2 soon probably oops

#rocket talk #epithet erased #ppt2 #hopefully people get that i mean paper puppets take 2 #not poyo poyo tetris two #i've never even played that slkjdfkls

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

hey guys sorry for the radio silence i'm fine now i promise :') soap is okay we're all good we're all chill

#mics ramblings #mostly anyway #its a very long story.

(13 notes)

🟢 greenyguy Follow

yo this ice cream bangin

🍺 pillowpepper Follow

greeny that is a tub of playdoh,

🟢 greenyguy Follow

yo this ice cream bangin

(39,132 notes)

🍿🔃 stevecobseviltwin Follow reblogged 🩷 under-lock-and-key

🩷 under-lock-and-key Follow

writing with a glitter gel pen in my own pages. i'm losing my sense of humanity

#mecore

(713,034 notes)

💼 emotional-baggage Follow

@nowaynuhuh i'm so sorry for disappearing like that earlier! i didn't mean to cut you out of anything, things just got busy :( on better news, i won a competition and made a new friend! do you have discord? i think you'd like her too ^_^

⛔ nowaynuhuh Follow

oh my gosh, that's SUCH a relief. things have been busy over here too, so i completely understand, dw! and i do have discord, so i'll dm you my username! can't wait to meet your friend

💼 emotional-baggage Follow

yay!!

#cases chats #thank you for the well wishes though!!

(4 notes)

🔌 electricalmusical Follow

i suffer every day from that post that got popular. HELLLPPPP MY NOTIFFSSSSSSSS

🎡 not-tally-hall Follow

I TOLD you to get off of Tumblr. This is what you get

🟧 mail-time Follow

Is this the right site?

🔌 electricalmusical Follow

HI PB YEAH IT IS!!! WELCOMEEE

🟧 mail-time Follow

Thank you! Glad to be here!

🎡 not-tally-hall Follow

...I left you alone for a day, how did you already find someone to add to your group?

🔌 electricalmusical Follow

we're just that swag

🟧 mail-time Follow

LOL

🎡 not-tally-hall Follow

You better not have caused any trouble.

🔌 electricalmusical Follow

😶

👑 kingofeverything Follow

😶

🟧 mail-time Follow

😶

🎡 not-tally-hall Follow

I hate my job.

(31 notes)

🧋 latte-or-not Follow

are there actually cishet people on tumblr? that feels illegal

💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow

i thought your host was cishet

🧋 latte-or-not Follow

and i thought you all were dead but no. he's bi.

💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow

diversity win...

#fans speeches #the host who made a joke about eliminating people cause theyre gay is bi #what a growth arc

(284 notes)

🛞 wheelnotonthebus Follow

GET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING VOID

🛞 wheelnotonthebus Follow

I HATE CLOCK I HATE CLOCK I HATE CLOCK I HATE CLOCK

🛞 wheelnotonthebus Follow

I'M GOING TO KICK SOMEO

(2 notes)

🌽 is-steve-cobs-dead-yet Follow

11/29/2024

YES 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

#ii steve cobs #inanimate insanity #ii 18 spoilers #ii2 finale #WE DID IT CHAT

(8,623 notes)

🍿 stevecobseviltwin Follow

I Win

#I REIGN SUPREME BITCHES

(9 notes)

🟧 mail-time Follow

Why is there fanart of us on here? How do people know who we are?

👑 kingofeverything Follow

shhhh dont worry about it

[each-uisge]

I thought shadowbringers would never be knocked off its pedestal but the end of endwalker got me all misty eyed

i wasn't ready for the next quest to suddenly be Endwalker, i reached the top of the hill and it caught me off guard even though it really shouldnt have

[shepscapades]

GLAD EVERYONE ENJOYED THE ANDROID INFO UPDATE ABOUT INTERFACING DFGJNDGKGNMXGHNCBNM

[dizzybizz]

some doodles

[dykedvonte]

One of my mutuals opinions is the "bro code" thing, that Curly is one of those guys who wouldn't care about the victim because the perpetrator is his friend and I'm really banging my head on the wall like that other anon. I've only played through the game once but Curly's behaviour/reactions etc read completely different from the "bro code" thing and I have to wonder if my mutual and I even played the same game.. like the constant digs at him from Jimmy, his body language in his face reveal and so on like you mentioned in your post. While this game is a little different obviously, it kind of reminded of a point in Alice Madness Returns that makes it very clear that Alice's pain blinded her to the abuse of the other children and her failure to act earlier because of it. Curly is guilty of a similar inaction but it doesn't change the fact he was a victim of Jimmy too. I don't think I can look at it any other way because both of these games have really stuck with me.

I genuinely think it really is the idea that people want a simple easy to blame problem and the idea that the only relatable victims of abuse are those that "surpass" it or do a lot to help others. When it comes to victims, especially those that don't fit the typical demographics, who either accidently perpetuate it, enable it or aren't ideal in some way shape or form, people jump to ignore what they went through as it's easier than dealing with those conflicting sentiments.

The bro-code conversation in Mouthwashing stems from a concept I generally dislike that there had to be something about Curly that made him meet or keep being friends with someone like Jimmy. I think people genuinely underestimate how many like decent and good people just know an asshole or are friends with someone who is really bad outside of their view/established dynamics. The game makes it clear none of the inaction against Jimmy is because of a lack of care, it is a lack of understanding from the privaleged postions they have as men to not have to worry about what Anya does/went through and the type of extremes men like Jimmy will go through to cover it up. They are all too preoccupied in their own strifes.

Another thing I see being oversaturated the idea that you have to be a freak, misanthrope or have a disorder to do the thing Jimmy does. The game is an escalation, it's a spiral that I don't see people comment on that Jimmy was not likely having the mood swings and episodes of rage/frustration we were seeing in the game. This is after they all start experiencing the worst moments in their lives that he got THAT openly bad. Of course, this is just my interpretation but much like in real life, people that go to extremes like that usually live mundane lives. It's a pressure cooker affect to where the stress made them pop. It's self inflicted but still the case.

I really think people need to be more willing to acknowledge that not everything needs to be an extreme or in black and white or easy to understand. It doesn't need to be happy or have an answer or solution, especially in the cases where the abused sadly helps perpetuate what they experience. It's not he should've known better from experience or shouldn't he have known what could've happened because victims tend to not like to think in matters of the worst. Not to mention, especially in cases of abuse where it feels so personally directed that you don't expect to happen to someone else.

[loving-delusions]

still in art block ggrah

i wish gay people were real guys

[reineyday]

mishanks mafia au where shanks is the don of the gol family and and mihawk is a hitman hired by the government (it's a conspiracy!) to kill shanks.

when mihawk shows up, shanks puts up a great fight, and even tho shanks loses (he's on the ground with hawk's blade at his throat!), mihawk decides shanks is way funner than the government and doesn't kill him after all. mihawk intends for this to be the end, with exception for perhaps more fights in the future, but shanks has already fallen on love and starts trying his damndest to get mihawk to work for the gols.

mihawk always refuses, but when the government puts out a hit on mihawk because he broke contract, mihawk finds himself thoroughly protected by the gol family anyways. shanks, however, doesn't save mihawk fast enough to spare the hitman some torture so, in retaliation, shanks brings down the entire government and exposes the conspiracy while he's at it, with the finale being a grand announcement that mihawk is his, actually, back the fuck off and don't try this again.

by the end, mihawk still doesn't work for the gols, but if he marries into the family, well. "there's still a difference, red." (shanks whines about this daily.)

[if-we-are-free-tell-me-why]

every time I hear someone say "oh you have to listen to Dear Evan Hansen it has such good mental health representation" I cry in Next to Normal

[kazoozie]

Ok if you're like me and you're procrastinating watching dead boy detectives, I'm here to prompt you to watch it. It's seriously so good, I can take any relationship between characters and yell about it for hours. There's an insane witch who talks about the stretchiness of teen girls skin. Literally every character is so interesting, even the side ones who are only there for one episode. At least three people are canonically in love with a repressed edwardian ghost boy, and they're correct. The boy who fights with basically only a cricket bat is also one of the sweetest characters ever. The woman who walks around with meat cleavers is the closest thing to adult supervision these kids have. You'll want to marry/be best friends with most of the characters and hit the others with your car.

[thebirdandhersong]

Lol

[harvestmoth]

sorry, heres more things i havent posted here yet