#anything but stay in my bed and house in general i was like so horribly suicidal until march 2022 ..

[mainfaggot]

guys i think I found something that makes me want to kill myself LESS oh my god

[darleneh]

Alastor x F!reader pt.1

Word count is unknown I don’t feel like putting it in the word counter website.

I’m Watching

TW: Suicide, mentions of sex but no smut.

Summary; You tell your friend about some ‘man’ who creeps up on you at night!

“He only comes out at night.” You told your friend. You were telling your friend about how some creepy ‘boogeyman’ comes out at night and just.. talks to you. That’s all he ever did, talk to you then he��d put you to bed. He was careful with his touches, you told your friend everything and she was just shocked to hear it. “Does he.. ever do anything you don’t like?” She asked you, worrying about if the creepy man ever did stuff without your permission. “Well, watching me when I’m asleep is one thing I don’t like. He doesn’t like, touch me horribly or anything. More of him touching my shoulder, my face, or my arms. That’s all.” You explained, blushing to yourself at the thought of him touching you in other ways than just friendly ways.

“Good.. but shit, if I had a creepy man in my house watching me at night shits gonna go down.” She giggled, which made you giggle. “He’s cute, like his voice and such. He’s just attractive in general. Maybe you could stay the night and you can meet him.” You winked, punching your friends arm lightly as she kept on giggling. “No. I don’t wanna interrupt it.” She sighed, recovering from laughing. “Eh, we don’t do anything. He just calls me a ‘friend’. Y’know, he calls me darling a lot. It’s cute.” You swirled the cup in your hands, then drinking out of it.

“Darling? Is he British?” She started full on laughing, kicking her feet in the air as she laid back laughing. “No, he just has a radio voice. He told me his name was Alastor and that he died like a hundred years ago. Oh! We should go see if there are any records about him online.” You say, jumping up from your seat and grabbing your laptop. Sitting back down, the two of you huddled around the laptop and searched. “Alastor radio host 1900’s” is what you searched up on google. The first thing that popped up was, “Newspapers about Murderers in the 1900’s.” So, you clicked on it and went searching for his name.

Finally finding something, the headlines said, “Murderer in New Orleans found dead while burying a body.” The both of you read the newspaper article and it showed a picture of him when he was alive. Black and white. “Jesus Christ, he’s fucking hot.” Your friend blurted out, drooling at the picture of the murderer. “We’re both sickos if we’re finding a murderer cute.” You giggled, your friend also giggling. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s dead.” She shrugged, scrolling down to read more about the man. “Alastor Hartfelt.” You read outloud, looking at the picture of him more.

“Maybe I could talk to him about this if he comes around tonight.” You said, turning off your laptop. “Do it, and tell me ALL about it.” Your friend turned to look at you, smiling wide. “But, I’m gonna go home now. Alright?” She got up, and you waved her off. “See ya.” You say, going on your phone. After awhile of mindlessly scrolling you got up and got ready for bed. Taking your melatonin which never worked, you laid down.

After a few minutes with your eyes closed and waiting for the static to come along, you heard it as always. You instantly opened your eyes and shot up, looking around the room for your demon crush. He came along, shadows lurking in the corner then morphing together to form the man you had a crush on for quite some time. “What’s up, Alastor the murderer?” You giggled at your choice of words, locking eyes with the man standing in the corner of your room.

“Weird choice of words.” He says, walking to the bed and sitting on the edge, looking at you. “Weird, sure. But I know who you are.” You brought your chin to your hands, cupping your face. You were slouched. “Do you? What do you know?” He asked you, cocking his head to the side. “Well, Alastor Hartfelt, you never told me you were very much a cannibal back when you were alive. You were a murderer, you got shot while burying a body in the forest, blah blah blah.” You scoffed, smirking at Alastor.

His smile only widened at your choice of words, “Where’d you find this information, darling?” He asks, shifting his body to be more pointed towards you. “The internet, you wouldn’t know what that is since you’re so… old.” You laughed, covering your mouth as you made eye contact with him once again. “I’m not THAT old, my body is of a thirty something year old man.” He rolled his eyes, gripping his Caine.

“A ‘thirty something year old man’ is eight feet? Sure.” You used your fingers as quotation marks to emphasize what you said. “I didn’t chose how tall I was, or how I looked like when I joined hell. Though, Lucifer, the man himself is much shorter than you.” He grinned, which made you laugh. “Really? The most powerful man of hell is short?” You snort, laying back. “Yes.” He nods, looking down at you laying.

“Is hell really that bad?” You blurted out, turning to your side and looking at him, pulling the covers over your shoulder. “Not at all! Though I’ve only gotten used to it.” He says, not showing his teeth anymore, but still smiling. “Of course YOU have. But, if I went to hell, is there anyone nice enough?” You ask another question, he thought about it. “Yes! There’s a few, it’s a hotel. I came up with the name myself, it’s called ‘Hazbin Hotel’ Charlie, the princess of hell, runs it and wants people to be redeemed. But there’s no such way of going into heaven after being sent to hell. It’s just some silly little dream she has.” He says in a playful voice, thumbing the radio part of his staff.

“I’d join if it’s a place to stay, IF I go.” You smiled at Alastor. “I can protect you if you end up in hell.” He says in random, his eyes narrowing towards your lying body. “Really?” You sit up, smiling wider. “Yes, but there’s a price.” He grins, placing his hands on his knees. “What is it?” You questioned. “Well, in exchange for protection in hell, and perhaps in the living world, you’ll give me your soul.” He says.

“Really? That’s it?” You raise an eyebrow, and he nods. “Yes, so it’s a deal then?” He brings his hand out, for you to grab. “..sure.” You place your hand in his, and he has a firm grip, everything turns green, green light surrounds the two of you. The lights happen for a few seconds before fading, and with your hand in his, you couldn’t control yourself as you pulled him close to you for a kiss. It was random, sure, but you found this very.. horny? If that was the right word.

He leans in to your soft kiss on his lips, and soon enough you’re below him with him nipping your neck.

— LATER (sorry I’m not in the mood for smut rn ahahahaha)

You woke up naked the next day, you were naked, and your body was aching. “Fuck, what even happened?” You ask yourself outloud, turning over and seeing someone sleeping next to you, facing away. You jump out of bed, hitting the floor. Your bare ass hitting the floor made the pain from your thighs ache even more, and the impact made a loud noise too. The man sleeping next you woke up, he shot up and looked over the bed to see you rubbing your head from how hard you fell.

“Alastor? Why’re you in my bed,” you asked, finding a shirt next to you and putting it on to cover yourself up. He didn’t answer, instead he moved away out of your sight. You looked down at your inner thighs, and they were filled with bite marks. Your eyes widened at the realization, “Holyyyy shitttt.” You touched the marks, which burned. You heard someone walk next to you, it was Alastor. He was fully clothed, “Seems you woken up on the wrong side of bed.” He held out a hand for you to grab, in which you did.

“Go get some clothes on before I depart.” He orders, walking out of the room and going somewhere in the house. You got dressed, putting on a bra, some clothes, whatever. You walked out of your room and sat down on the couch, Alastor joining you. “If I died right now, would you go to hell and find me?” You asked him. “No I wouldn’t now, since I own your soul you’d be sent to the hotel. In my room.” He explained.

“Oh. Would you let me go? Like, what are you gonna do with my soul?” You asked again. “I’ll summon you when needed. But, I may keep you around.” He admits. “Okay.” You answer, looking down at your hands. “Uhm, you can go now.” You shoo him off, so he leaves, turning into shadows and disappearing. You got up from the couch and went to the kitchen. You grabbed a knife and grasped the base, placing it to your neck, you tightened your neck before moving the sharp blade against your neck. Blood spilled out, and all you could see was red.

end of part one haha

[scribble-brain-aced]

more sans au headcanons because if i do not share them, i mayhaps will explode into a million pieces

• i once broke my school computer (stay with me here) and the inside of it smelled like chemicals. like nail polish remove, but more hospital. that’s what the anti-void smells like, and by extension, error.

• getting the feeling that Killer is a bit obsessive with who he likes. like, he won’t straight-up stalk them because he knows that’s apparently terrifying for the victim, and he doesn’t want that. but he WILL watch them really carefully, hang out with them as much as possible, and probably write a list about them. generally, really toeing the line between ‘okay’ and ‘kinda creepy’.

• Dream and Nightmare have synesthesia. Dream can see emotions, Nightmare can taste and smell them. (Although, he thinks it’s weird, so he doesn’t talk about it at all.)

• dust is from a Handplates AU, Killer was homeless until 18, and Horror is part of Gaster’s split brain if you’ve seen Matpat’s theory.

• nightmare has about a million ways to pass the time because as a kid, he had like no social contact whatsoever, and instead read a lot, screamed into a forest, pondered the meaning of life, and made up several conspiracy theories. because he was bored.

• yknow how the Gang is portrayed in this awesome gothic castle/mansion? well, the Stars are permanently broke. they literally just share a tiny little hobbit-hole house in the omega timeline.

• Nightmare stole a money-printer from the government in a Mafiatale AU. that’s how he’s so rich.

• also Killer somehow got everyone to name it Jasper. like, if Dust ran out of money, Horror will just tell him “go talk to Jasper.” and everyone just accepts it.

• cross and epic have a thing where if either of them say the word corn, they chant the corn thing from Slimesccle. they have no clue where it came from.

• error, nightmare, cross, epic, and chino have started the Fresh Hate Club.

• Nightmare somehow keeps getting mistaken for Satan. He doesn’t know how. (and it definitely does not bring his already-low self esteem down.) But if there’s a satanic cult nearby, he won’t correct them, in case they can be useful.

• You know how gods have a ‘true form’ that’s ineffable to mortals? all of Reapertale, Ink, and Error. Reaper’s gonna teach Ink and Error how to access their true forms. Dream once saw Ink’s true form and fucking sobbed because he could barely handle it. he’s not a mortal, so he’ll live, but he can barely comprehend it.

• (inspired by The Stupid Chair on ao3). the gang has The Stupid Hat. it’s a horrible bright yellow neon construction hard hat that gets duct-taped to someone’s head if they’re dumb enough to make an easy mission complicated. ex, if Dust provokes the Stars into a fight during a supply run, he gets the hat.

• ccino is a licensed therapist, but he is still depressed

• dream and nightmare have a lot of insecurity around the auras they emit. ‘do they genuinely like me, or do they like my aura?’ ‘does my aura make them feel that negative? do they wish i weren’t here?’

• cross and killer impulsively started a band. They made the instrumentals for half of a song and that’s it. nothing else. they forgot to actually do stuff.

• Dust gets really nervous around medical, scientific places, and doesn’t trust any doctors or scientists except for Sci. but he still refuses to take anything from him, whether it be a shot, or a lollipop. he’s just not having it.

• killer sleeps on the floor because sleeping in a bed still feels strange to him. he also keeps the windows open because he used to sleep in the cold. gets really anxious about the price of something, money in general, so even if he can afford something, he just steals it.

• horror will get random flashbacks of the Core, or Gaster, and he’s not sure why, but on the rare occasion he meets a Gaster, he always ends up feeling “fake” afterwards. like he’s not supposed to be here, not supposed to do this.

[allsadnshit]

i wonder how you met your husband? he sounds like the sweetest person! i sometimes wonder if i’ll ever find a good guy but even if i don’t i would be happy on my own, i think. feel free to ignore this if it feels invasive!

met him on tumblr when we were 17, followed each others blogs platonic for years just as mutuals never planned to meet, exchanged some books recs and spoke very casually for long time. fast forward to 2020, horrible break up lost all my friends sickest i'd ever been in my life before getting my diagnosis, and quarantined because of covid alone in my house which gave me like 2 months to think about my life uninterrupted by the temptation to push my feelings away or "cope" through socializing and overworking as i originally wanted....

decided after watching romance movies from my childhood for weeks and reading "all about love" and "little weirds" and crying every day for months over just general emotional and physical pain I hadn't processed for years that I shouldn't bother trying to date casually ever again and that the next time I am involved with someone it will be someone I think is so amazing that it would either result in marriage or destroy me, no more safety nets or plan b situations which had drained me and made me think love wasn't real and I abandoned all I wanted to cope.

Decided Myles was my ideal dream boy even though we didn't talk anymore, he was still my most prevalent crush so I dm'd him when he told me he liked my new birkenstock sandals and I flirted saying maybe we could wear birkenstocks together and live on a farm and then we both immediately realized we had had mutual crushes on each other forever and just neither had considered doing anything about it cause we lived in different cities

we started texting every day all day and sending voice memos, he bought a car to come see me about month later for the weekend, we met at 1 am outside a house I started renting the week before ( I had no furniture except my bed) and we told each other we loved one another, stayed up all night, spent all day together then the next day before he had to drive back to philly I was so constipated he had to drive me to the ER cause I thought I ruptured an organ.

He came back to stay for a full week a few weeks later, we decided we would leave our old lives behind to be together, and I decided to get diagnostic surgery so I could move forward in my life after being stuck for so long, so he moved in with me for 6 months ( during which we got engaged) in pittsburgh while I had surgery and recovered and finished my short lease then we moved together to philly

that's how we met

[occasionalrpmemes]

Amigo the Devil: Volume 1 Starters

sentences taken from the 2015 album. edit as desired. warning: this one does NOT pass the Hayes Code lmao. content includes, but is not limited to: sex, violence (both domestic and otherwise), alcohol, strong language, religion, general moral degeneracy, et cetera

It's all for you.

I'd rot in hell with you, if you'd just ask me to.

Come on, believe me, follow me home, there's no judgement here.

Take the shot.

This night is going to end horribly for someone.

I'm not so much afraid of letting go as much as scared of giving up.

Open up to me.

The Devil came and sold his fucking soul to me!

If I've hurt you, please forgive me. Love makes you do funny things.

This fire feels so real.

Don't say a word, my darling. I know how you feel.

On rainy days, we'll drink until the gray is left in nothing but our hair.

I know you want it, too.

I'll lay by your side 'til everything is rotten through.

Tonight, we'll celebrate life! Eat the best food and drink the best wine.

I hope your husband dies.

Are you feeling upside down or even empty inside?

Meet me down by the bar. We'll go and take this drink out to the stars.

Death is just one moment.

Some people follow rules, some people go around.

As an elephant, I'm only really relevant when I'm standing in the room.

I am the son of an asshole.

No one deserves my world quite like you do.

I'm not so much afraid of being alone, just kind of feel I've had enough.

God knows I'll do what I need.

These hands are stronger than you're led to believe.

We'll never have a house to decorate, a place that we can call our home.

If I can't have you, nobody will.

There's only one thing in this life that makes us living.

I want to be where all the stupid shit I say sounds so romantic and true.

Live with me in this sin forever.

There's nothing left to lose, 'cuz I've already lost it all.

Tonight, I'll follow you home and start up a fire that'll keep us both warm.

Hang around, let down your hair.

So you should start to undress and just… try a little less.

Now you're with this asshole- you expect me to believe it's gonna last?

Let me have this dance with you.

Your eyes look like diamonds still stuck inside the mines.

When your tongue is putrid and your skin is sagging down, I'll stick around.

It's true, I hate everything but you.

We'll laugh a little, drink a little, see what you're made of.

All the bridges in the world won't lead you back to fix what couldn't be erased.

This fairytale just ain't coming true.

I'll drive my car like I stole it, drink at the bar like I own it.

These wrinkles are the maps of all the places we went no one else would dare.

I'd rather have a reason I should stay.

There's always gonna be a better high, and a lower down.

We take things a little far, but you couldn't name a place I wouldn't go with you.

I'm capable of making you disappear.

I have a couple different faces if you need a place to hide.

The time we spent together when the light was out became my thought of you.

I am the agent that decides your fate.

There's only one kind of people in the world: people who die!

It doesn't matter what you've heard or if you're good or bad and everything between.

I love the shitty things we do together.

It's been a while since I've held anything as close as I have you.

I'd like to live my life just like a dog. Humble as can be and unconditional in everything I love.

I'll make you famous one way or another.

Home is the last place that I'd stand to be with anyone but you.

I'd crawl in bed with you. Even in someone else's blood, on top of someone else's love, in the worst motel we find.

This life is a maze with only one way out.

Every dime spent is worth looking good- and that's Hollywood!

They'll write about our story here for years to come and maybe even more, cuz there's never been a love like this before.

I'll cut to the chase, just don't try to leave.

Trust me, I'm not jealous, I'm just hoping that he really messes up.

When I had you near me I just couldn't think of anything to say, but now that I'm alone, I got the perfect things to tell you everyday.

We'll leave the world the way dreamers do.

All the parties we can throw - we'll dress like anything we please!

All the distance that we've spent apart will never have to mean a thing. Every mile I traveled was to find the perfect stone to fit your ring.

Living in the moment's hard when everything I want is in the past.

When the night falls, out comes the terror.

Your heart will always have a place to live with nothing left to be.

[compressednerve]

Exploring Zachariah Trench's Office with @parasitefun

So many crazy white boy moments in his office so here's rambling about observations we made together. BTW we haven't finished the game yet (we're at The Prime Candidate Program and just found out who P7 is) so PLEASE DON'T TELL ME IF THESE ARE CORRECT OR IF I THEORIZE THE WRONG THING. I don't wanna be spoiled on anything >:O thank you.

Analysis, headcanons, and observations below!

What does his diploma say? Lets zoom in

DIPLOMA THIS CERTIFICATE IS PROUDLY PRESENTED TO

Zachariah Trench

One morning, when Zachariah Trench woke from troubling dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.

..........oh!! oh ok, the Kafka quote about becoming so disabled you can no longer work? And you see yourself as A HORRIBLE VERMIN because you're disabled? And they put that on a diploma and proudly gave it to Trench! Jesus Christ!!! Go listen to some of The Downward Spiral, Zachariah!!! My god I'm so fucking heartbroken over how Zachariah talks about being old and frail and weak and BROKEN!!!!!!!!!!! and useless and-I could go on. I'm a mostly bedridden disabled person myself and I usually find myself relating the most to the older characters in casts of media because they're usually the ones portrayed with the same issues I have as a younghead (arthritis, brain damage/brain fog/amnesia, fatigue and exhaustion, difficulty moving and speaking, just.. yum). And being bedbound myself is something that I feel really deeply in Kafka's work. To realize Trench relates so deeply to Gregor Samsa as well is just such a juicy delicious detail for him. And it's a diploma? My head is spinning! His self-hatred is infinite...

I love that the diploma is tucked away behind the slide projector as well. I'm not sure if this is The Slide Projector that's been hinted at but it'd be neat if it was!

NOBLE SHERIFF: "There can only be one Sheriff in town" ... :rolling_eyes: ok Mr. The Only Person You Should Fail Is Yourself ok Mr. She Knows I Don't Like Relying On Other People ok Mr. I Need A Team To Clean Up My Horrible Mistakes (k!lls self to avoid taking accountability for his actions and dumps it all in Jesse's lap). He was just drinking straight from the fucking bottle at his desk!! That's so disgusting I love it, no chaser or anything. I love the tasteful rolodex, the smooth marble pen holder (with silver in the black, but, kind of evocative of The Astral Plane hmm?), his stapler, his disgusting jug of booze, and the FRESH PACK OF CIGGIES!!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!!!!! God, Trench's addictions and compulsions being literally on his desk, the most intimate and well-frequented area of his general daily life, is just so fun! Remedy does so good with environmental storytelling.

I love how even the brands he uses are manifestations of his inner thoughts. The booze label, the tool that relaxes him and dampens his inhibitions, is of course praising him. The Lone Sheriff. The Director. The Last Line Of Defense. Zachariah Trench sees himself as the sole protector, and The Oldest House his town, his community, his ward. The most likely intentional framing of the documents he was signing being splattered with blood, acting like a barrier of his Work vs his Needs (need to relax, need for a painkiller cuz booze is a great painkiller)

I got to his documents piles and literally shouted, "HE HAS SO MUCH MORE WORK TO DO!!!!". I love that the OUT pile is more full than the IN pile, Trench is so judicious with his correspondence :pleading_face: he's so tired. I bet he wishes he was still a Field Agent a lot of the time :sobbing: Looking at all the stuff on his desk like the sheer amount of documents and phone calls and other shit he has to do in a day to day as The Director must be sooo overwhelming...

It was during this moment that Paras and I realized that the greater joke of Control is about older people who stay in their jobs and refuse to make room for other workers, and they get Promoted To Incompetence! lmfao because like, Zachariah was so focused on Field Agent Stuff (in one of his Hotline calls he says, "I kept my head down. I worked my ass off." in a classic blue collar way) and being all tragic and putting his life on the line for his squad, then suddenly and forcefully being promoted to The Boss Of Everything. No wonder he has such a complex about Failing The Bureau :O

the same applies to Dr. Darling--! He's been in The Bureau for a 24 years!! He has 22 labs spread across the ever-shifting expanse of The Oldest House. He, mainly, wants to Do Research and Write Essays and all sorts of other shit that mainly revolves around being an isolated scientist with a modest team. And instead he has to make presentations for the laymen of The Bureau and he has to manage all THE ENTIRE RESEARCH SECTOR, who sends him catty memos about how their department deserves more funding (parakineseology department bribing him with his favorite booze???), and interns and junior scientists who don't know the first thing about The Astral Plane, and as Dr. Underhill complained about- The Bureau's ultimate goal is to exploit what they find, rather than actually comprehend what it is they're dealing with. Most Rangers retire due to cognitive collapse because The Bureau just shoves them in the meat grinder of trying to contain/control Everything. Ugh!

So anyways Zachariah Trench isn't a bad Director but then he's literally such a bad Director, the Worst Director Ever at the same time because it just wasn't his archetype. He took it way too seriously with a hammer in hand, seeing every problem as a nail. Dr. Darling fits the opposite of this niche as well in his own archetypical way- going from goofy underling to The Guy In Charge Of Everyone. They're both socially awkward, domineering, prone to pettiness/hostility, and under so so so much pressure for roles they were universally understood to not be able to fulfill.

All of the people we see in Control that are actually useful and agreeable with Jesse (who has been a dropout who mainly ever worked manual labor jobs up to and including janitor) so far are like, Ahti the mid-60yr old janitor who also just so happens to be the first friendly face you see when you enter the FBC and like, Simon? And fucking Langston (who is so hot I gotta write some Jesse/Frederick later)!

Langston, who is what I imagine is a direct parallel in a positive light compared to Dr. Darling and Director Trench, as in, how he entered The Bureau (he worked in the Postal Service of all places and an uncle at The FBC got him a job there), and Langston, like Trench, worked his ass off, kept his head down, but schmoozed enough to get a nice promotion, and then continued to work at a slow, steady incline for 15 years until he became Panopticon supervisor. He's like one of the only dudes in a high ranking spot who actually respects his position.

And of course who could forget dear Emily Pope :pleading_face: she's been Dr. Darling's underling for idk how long but clearly a while and she's so so ambitious like Darling is ambitious but she's so so so inhibited and held back by Darling's misogyny and higher ranking and having to be ordered to research shit but not actually be able to ask the real questions. You can really get a feel for how passionate Emily is in her work by like, not just how she talks to Jesse but in her correspondence and especially her research papers. The way she words documents ordered by Dr. Darling vs how she words documents ordered by Director Jesse Faden is literally night and day, but not for lack of enthusiasm. You can tell under Darling's mentorship she's soooo stifled, and with Jesse's lax permission "please just do whatever you want so long as it advances my (and The Bureau's) understanding of things". Emily's like a kid in a candy store and it's exactly what she needs to flourish.... Oh to bask in the light of a manual laborer :heart_eyes:

Another angle of his documents which I find titillating. The majority of his blood splatter landing on the IN pile... efflorescent....

THE FUCKING. BLACK ROCK PRISM ON HIS DESK. Paras has something to say about that later in a fic or some art. The other pack of ciggies that he was in the process of smoking (I counted the cigarettes. He has 8 ciggies left which means he's smoked 12 already. There are 4 in the ashtray which means at some point after opening the pack, he smoked 8 and then dumped the ashtray. This shows he keeps his ashtray relatively clean, which is a specific kind of character quirk about Tidiness and Cleanliness for Trench because chainsmokers like me and Paras are disgusting and our ashtray is overflowing by like, three packs and it smells horrible). The way it sits atop all his other shit he needs to sign, he's just drowning in documents (sort of like how I imagine Alan is drowning in manuscripts? WHO SAID THAT?)

*looks over Jesse's shoulder and realizes Trench's body is gone* *nearly shouting to Paras, who is sitting right next to me* WHERE IS TRENCH'S BODY? WHERE DID HIS BODY GO? WHY IS HIS BLOOD ON THE FLOOR BUT NOT HIS BODY? DID THE FUCKING BOARD TAKE HIM? DID THEY EAT HIM? WHO ATE TRENCH?

I've been likening Zachariah Trench a lot to Rorschach in his perpetual death-wish (he wants to die so bad but he'll fight everything that tries to kill him to the bloody end because he feels he can only die when he's ready to die ugh yum). The empty blood splatter after you come back from The Hotline Chamber for the first time (and realizing that The Hotline Chamber is DIRECTLY CONNECTED TO TRENCH'S OFFICE? HELLO?) is soooo fucking reminiscent of Rorschach's final death scene, where the blood splatter is the shape of his mask :hand_over_mouth: soooo symbolic sooo iconic. Note to self: Paras and I need to write/draw something about different people devouring Trench's corpse (yum).

(SIDENOTE: PLEASE DONT TELL ME IF THERE'S A CANONICAL REASON FOR WHY TRENCH'S CORPSE DISAPPEARS. THAT'D BE BALLER IF THERE WAS A CANONICAL REASON BUT WE WANNA FIND OUT ON OUR OWN!)

I wanna lick the blood off his desk and phone. Oohhhhhhn n the way it drips down the edge of the desk. I want to give him so many head wounds here. He spilled his final blood all over his classified documents and telephone and finished work and desk that he sat at a lot :pleading_face: and he was only 64 years old wah. He was so tragic and so sad and what if there was a dude who was so sad he DIED because his boss was like "put the gun to your head and see if we still like you" and Trench was like "oh good, finally, an opportunity to see if I'm still worthy" AND HE FUCKIN. WAS PROVED. UNWORTHY? OUCH, DUDE!!! HARSH!!!

Zachariah's Personal Signature Rubber Stamp (CUMS UNCONTROLLABLY)

Dude I had no fucking clue he had a picture of himself when he was younger (and healthier, and happier, and) with his kid that he accidentally killed. Like what??? He's so miserable and he sits at his desk with TWO packs of cigarettes and a giant bottle of like i'm guessing whiskey or scotch, and he just sits there and gets nosebleeds from using The Hotline and chainsmokes and stares at his Former Glory. MY GOD!

...............pistachios :pleading_face: he eats pistachios. he has pistachio snack. he enjoys pistachios. there is a bag of pistachios at his desk. he had to have gotten that at a vending machine. zachariah trench had to either ask someone to get him some pistachios (vulnerable) or he had to get up and go to a vending machine and put his money into the vending machine because he wanted a snack and he chose to get pistachios and he had to bend over and get the pistachios out of the bottom of the vending machine. zachariah trench eating pistachios. he has to crack the shells open and dispose of them somehow. pistachios are green. he eats pistachios. he wants a snack. i am literally a shell of a human being.

Imagine the smell of his nice leather briefcase. The weight of it in your hand. The privilege to watch Trench open it up and rifle through the papers, or *gets lightheaded* being able to hand him a document that he then has to place in his briefcase. I can't breathe. I like the pneumos in the background too. He has a very natural gentle clutter to his desk, like I imagine how he perceives the clutter of his mind. There's so many things to keep track of, and he's so tired... :weeping:

I'm so utterly enraged that he didn't finish two of his cigarettes. He didn't even finish his ciggie before he died!! are you fucking kidding me?! I was somewhat bewildered because the texture of the inside of the ashtray (the ashtray) looks... wet? and the two finished cigarette butts are visibly wet (distorted color, swollen cotton) and Paras said that the ashtray probably has a sort of perpetually wet sand inside it. Works for me!

Did you know if you shoot the Prism, it's breakable? I didn't know that. Makes the screenie a bit goofy but I don't care. Look at his over half-finished pack of ciggies. I would pay. kind of a lot of money. for like a collectors edition of real Black Pyramid Cigarettes are you kidding me? What kind of nightmare dimension tobacco do they put in those things?

He looks so moe here receiving his gay little medals or whatever's happening (idk if this has story relevance and gets revealed later or not). His hairdo is so cute??? Did he... did he bleach his hair? It looks like his roots are showing thru old bleach... is... Yung Trench a bleached hair baddie? I'm gonna pass out.

Me: look at that! Trench is watching the presentation! Paras: LOOK AT HOW SMOKY THE ROOM IS! HE'S HOTBOXING HIS OFFICE WITH NICOTINE! Both of us: *gagging*

So first of all this is such a big moment in terms of setting up Zachariah and Casper's relationship to each other, and how they interact with each other. Jesse uses The Hotline, and then we're treated to an interdimensional 3D Memory Flashback of observing Trench. He's sitting in his office, which is dimmed so the projector can play. He's chainsmoking so much that the ENTIRE VOLUME of his MODESTLY LARGE OFFICE is FILLED with CIGARETTE SMOKE. I genuinely am so disgusted and enamored by Trench's hardcore nicotine addiction, his.... dedication to the Ritual of Smoking. So anyways, engaging in his comfort ritual of Smoking, sitting in his nice chair and watching Darling's presentation. Imagine him ordering Darling to put together research on The Hotline immediately after his first call with The Board... and he's the only one who can communicate about what the experience is like... and then when Dr. Darling is done he delivers the video to Trench and then Trench sets aside specific dark-room-and-smoking time JUST to watch The Presentation? CAN IT GET ANY MORE HOMOSEXUAL THAN THIS? I *will* be writing about this later.

Sidenote the perspective of viewing behind his head like this is so intimate. I feel so voyeuristic, I want to hover closer to the back of Trench's neck and feel/see the hairs rise up in extrasensory response to my presence. I want to nibble on his ear.

I need him. to blow smoke in my face.

...

Well that's all the screenshots I have at the moment! Thank you for reading my post and please feel free to contribute your own ideas and observations to this because I LOVE META!! And I love hearing other people discuss it too >:3

[drunk-poets-society]

Ever since i’ve come back to college i’ve been so much happier. I’ve laughed till i cried nearly every day. I missed my friends. I missed our shenanigans and general tomfoolery. The hijinks, the mischief. Jist the general scallywagging. Gallivanting around. Absolutely amazing. I missed them so much SO SO SO MUCH omg. When i was at my mother’s house the only times i was really happy was when i was at my cousin’s place cos she also had vacations and was back for a bit, hanging out with two of my hometown friends who were also back from vacation, and at my dad’s place when i met my boyfriend every other say or so. Majority of it was just horrible with me just rotting in bed while my parents were just being i don’t even know. Maybe i never noticed it when i still lived with them but it was always so tense and i was in a state of constant dread that i might do something to piss them off cos my mother yells at me and my dad just gives me the silent treatment both of which i hate and isk why they can’t just communicate like JESUS CHRIST none of that ever accomplishes anything and i guess thats why i always wanna know what everyone is thinking all the time. Hated going home. I should’ve stayed here. Even though none of my friends were here i mean I could’ve just done something constructive and actually productive instead of wasting my damn time travelling all the way back to the other end of the country only to get yelled at and get ignored. Next holidays i’m only going to my parents for a total of one week i can’t stay in either place for more than three days. Idc im visiting my friends in their hometowns. Getting a job. I knew i would regret it. Why did i go fr. Smh.

[pyromegalomaniac]

What is up!!!!!!!!!!

aight, bro….

make the reader a gigachad with a sigma male grind set, he worships Andrew Tate, and Wally is able to turn this gigachad into a big softie…. Wally brings out the true gay out of this gigachad….

however………… have Wall-E (yes, the actual robot) try to fight for the gigachad’s love……..

Sigh... everyone... this is my friend, poo. They know nothing about Welcome Home but they read all my posts cus the homies gotta support each other. Okay poo, here's your wack ass ficlet. Enjoy.

:|

Alpha Male Turned Gayass🍎🏳️‍🌈🎀

☆°•☆°•☆°•☆

It was a day like any other, a day for posting on reddit and listening to alpha male podcasts. I was voice chatting with another dude on discord (not in a gay way though) about how terrible the new Mario movie was.

"Yeah it sucks they made Peach be all strong and stuff," I said.

"It's like, who wants a woman with any kind of agency? Next you're gonna be telling me she's a butch lesbian! If she met me I'd be able to set her straight. I bet her female brain would fall head over heels for an alpha like mys- oh, I just got a dm, hang on."

I checked the dm, from a user I'd never seen before. It said "I see you."

Then they sent a low quality and blurry picture of what looked like a pair of eyes, though it was almost too dark to tell. Couldn't even pay for nitro and send decent pictures, what a loser.

Just then, a pair of arms reached out of the screen and dragged me inside!

I didn't remember anything after that, and I woke up laying in the grass, which felt strange after not touching it for so long.

"Hello, y/n. Good to see you're awake. Sorry if you got hurt on the way here!"

I looked up to see who was talking, and saw what looked like a Jim Henson style puppet talking to me! Without anyone puppeteering!

He reached out a hand to me and grinned.

"Are you alright?"

I felt my face heat up, and his pompador-ish hair and almost sleepy grin and monotone voice awoke something inside me that I had mocked all my life.

"Yeah..." I said, taking his hand and standing.

"Where am I? Who are you?" I should've been scared, but for some reason his eye contact that he maintained with me had a weirdly calming effect. It was almost hypnotic...

"Oh, I do apologize," he said gently. "This must be a very abrupt change for you. Where are my manners? Welcome to the neighborhood." He outstretched his arm, gesturing to the array of colorful houses and buildings down the hill, which I was just now noticing.

"I'm Wally Darling."

In the next few days I grew accustomed to the neighborhood, and learned its ways. I almost immediately dropped all my thoughts I'd carried with me about love, and friendship, and people in general.

I hadn't been an "alpha male." I'd been a duchebag. And I'd treated people like property. God, I felt horrible.

Wally had insisted I stay with him in his house, (which may or may not be alive...??) which I had no problem with. I wanted to get to know him as much as I could. He was... intriguing.

But there I was, under the covers of the bed, refusing to move, even though it was mid afternoon.

I heard a soft knock on the open door.

"Go away," I said without any real conviction.

I knew it wouldn't do anything, and this was confirmed when I heard footsteps and felt a presence beside me on the bed.

"What's wrong? You've been moping a lot lately. I can't help but be worried. Come on..." He said, putting his hand on me through the sheets.

I threw off the blanket and glared at him.

"Ever since you brought me here, it's been..." I searched for words, looking into Wally's eyes, who, of course, looked back with infinite patience and a gentle, kind smile.

"It's been wonderful."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Everyone is honest with themselves, and is nice to each other just because. No one has to use any tactics or strategies to form or change a relationship, and it's just... I..."

I felt tears well in my eyes, and I looked away, embarrassed.

"And you're... the nicest," I whispered under my breath.

"Too nice. You've done something to me..."

I closed my eyes, but I felt fingers gently put themselves under my chin and pull me back. I met Wally's eyes, filled with understanding and kindness and something that made my heart pound until the sound of it filled my ears.

"Y/n... I don't want to be too forward with this, but I... I must come clean. I... I confess that I've developed romantic feelings for you, and I do hope you reciprocate them."

I couldn't do anything but listen to my own hearbeat for a moment, staring into his eyes, my mouth agape in disbelief.

Then, my mouth was on his. It was tender and gentle, slow and genuine. It was like birdsong and butterflies and a warm pastry. It was like sunlight in the morning and the sound of bells and the smell of chocolate.

I felt like everything was going to be okay.

(Epilog: Wall-E shows up and Wally and y/n decide to form a threesome or he just leaves or something)

☆°•☆°•☆°○☆

There you go poo. Hope you're happy. Here's a drawing of you for the fans.

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter three

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

chapter zero, one, two

july 13, 2018

los angeles, california

orion

—

There are just over two weeks until Calum leaves for tour. It'll be the longest time we've spent apart since before we knew each other.

Sure, the first few months of our "relationship" — if you could've even called it that then — were spent apart, but I saw him almost every weekend for the first couple of months I was in Spain, and then once I was back in LA, he returned shortly thereafter and the rest is history.

All that to say, I'm devastated that he's leaving. I keep trying to tell myself it'll be the perfect chance to focus on LSAT prep and really do well in my classes this semester, but it's hard when the one person you want to talk to at the end of every shitty day and the one who I want to tell about every essay I get a 100 on will be gone for four months. Living together has put us in such close quarters that any time apart feels stiflingly lonely.

Today hasn't been that different. We both woke up around the same time, but I stayed in bed while he got up and got ready to head to rehearsal. He took Duke out so I didn't need to get up until I wanted to, made himself some semblance of a breakfast sandwich, and gave me a kiss goodbye.

I didn't really want to get out of bed this morning. For some reason, I've been feeling sick almost every other week it seems. My throat is sore, my body just aches, and I feel feverish. It's not flu season, which makes me assume it's just a cold, but I don't understand why it keeps coming back, so I made an appointment at my doctor's office to see if it's a sinus infection or something that we can make go away with antibiotics.

I got dressed in a random t-shirt from Calum's pile of "not quite dirty, but also not clean" clothes and a pair of cotton shorts, washed my face, and then left the house. I stopped at Starbucks for a coffee on my way to the doctor, just to feel a bit more awake, even though I know I'll inevitably feel like a zombie.

When I get to the doctor's office, it's a blur of blood draws, questions from nurses and techs, blood pressure cuffs and other measurements. I've never liked going to the doctor, and today is no different. Normally, I'd have asked Calum to come with me, but with the tour so close, I didn't want to take away from an important workday — even though I know he would've come with me if I asked.

Finally, after waiting in the sterile exam room for what feels like a few hours but was likely only a maximum of 15 minutes, my doctor and a nurse enter the room.

"Good morning, Orion!" He cheerily says.

"Good morning," I say, far less enthusiastically.

"Sorry to hear you're feeling a bit under the weather. Just so you know, we're not seeing anything too alarming just yet, but we're still waiting on your blood panel to get analyzed by the lab." He's rubbing a fresh blob of hand sanitizer into his skin while the nurse makes notes on her pad. It all feels very impersonal, part of a protocol, and almost like no one has thought to even talk to me.

"I wanted to ask," he continues. "Have you ever had a sinus infection?"

"I've had one, yeah."

"What did that feel like for you? Did it feel like this?"

I think back, trying to remember. I'd gotten one after weeks of country-hopping, following Calum around on tour. The plane germs and travel fatigue had gotten to me. I felt horrible, but the main thing I remember was how badly my face hurt. "It was different, I had a lot of sinus pain, this is just more generally... sick? Does that make sense?"

My doctor nods, and the nurse stays silent while she keeps writing. "I understand. Well, given your symptoms and since we haven't heard back from the lab on your blood panel, I'm going to go ahead and prescribe you some antibiotics. While we aren't sure that it's a sinus infection, I'd rather go ahead and treat you for that than wait and do nothing and find out this was our best bet all along."

I nod, my mouth feeling too dry to speak.

The nurse coughs from out of nowhere, and then she and the doctor exchange a few glances that seem to have a lot more meaning than I could ever understand. Then the doctor turns back to me.

"We also noticed that bruise along your collarbone. Is that kind of bruising normal for you?"

Involuntarily, my eyes widen. I can't believe he's just asked me that. "Uh," I start, my cheeks hot. "My uh, boyfriend... it's, it's not a bruise." I cough. I guess a hickey is a form of a bruise, but still.

The doctor's facial expression is unreadable but both he and the nurse then share more glances. "Got it, we're just trying to make sure your chart has all of your symptoms."

—

I leave the office $150 poorer and with a prescription for an antibiotic that I don't think is going to help me, and no answers in hand. The LA traffic makes my drive home take almost an entire hour, and all I want to do is take a nap.

I pull into the parking garage at the apartment building that Calum insisted was the right choice, parking in my space next to Cal's empty one. Our cars stick out in the garage, both older, beat up, and not luxury brands.

Living here wasn't my choice, at least not fully. I'd found us a building where a lot of other UCLA students live, mostly the richer ones whose parents pay for everything, closer to campus, but Cal didn't feel like he'd be able to live there with its central location and lack of security. He doesn't get followed often, but when he does, he doesn't like to cause too big of a scene.

The building we do live in, though, I can barely afford to pay a quarter of the rent for. Cal insisted it was fine, he could pay the whole rent himself without issue, but I didn't feel right letting him do that. We have it worked out so that all I do is pay utilities and occasionally a few hundred toward the actual rent, which even still I have a hard time letting happen, but Calum basically refused to let me set up my account on the autodraft payment for the rent.

I know that sounds like something lots of people would love, not needing to pay any part of the rent, I just hate feeling like I'm taking advantage of Calum and our situation. He kept saying that my education was the most important thing and once I'm making money and out of debt I can contribute as much as I want.

Regardless, I feel out of place parking my shitty car and wearing a worn out, partially dirty t-shirt where I live. We've been here for almost a year and we still don't have any friends in the building. I've gotten pretty familiar with Ron, the main security officer in the lobby, but aside from that, we're only met with snobby glares and passive aggressive elevator encounters.

Ready to just go lay down, I enter the lobby, swiping my fob and dodging a neighbor wearing a suit who’s angrily talking on the phone. Ron is behind the desk in the lobby, as usual.

“Morning,” I call to him. He waves happily back and I keep walking. Normally I’d stop and chat, ask if he’d like me to bring him a coffee, but I just don’t have it in me today.

When I get up to our apartment, Duke is waiting for me at the door. I sigh, wishing I could just go lay down, but he needs to go out. I feel like a zombie as I trudge through the apartment, grabbing his leash and poop bags, hooking him into his harness and then going back to the elevator.

By the time I’ve taken Duke out and gotten back to the apartment, my whole body aches and begs to rest. I turn on the TV and just pick something random from Netflix for white noise.

“C’mere,” I tell Duke, curling into a ball under the massive fuzzy blanket Crystal got me for Christmas last year. I pat a space on the couch next to me, and he hops up, nestling next to me and quickly settling.

I sigh, finally at ease, and lean my head back against the pillows on the couch.

read next chapter

—

a/n: guys i’m so happy people are reading this 🥹 shorter chapter. just leading up to the good stuff!!

[bibbykins]

Yo, your stalker here again lol. I've been meaning to ask you this but always forgot it but remember when I asked you about what would household Jimin feel if bunny cheated, is it okay if I'd ask the whole household boys reaction to that? Like what would they say or do? Tho I know it's impossible in the universe (coz bunny's yandere for them too, I know I know *wink*) and the nearest scenario that this could happen is bunny getting mad at them for something and wanting to get back at them, thus finding someone and tryin to make them jealous (which bunny 1000000% mission accomplished)

Anyways don't pressure yourself and Merry Christmas/happy holidays!!!! It passed by like a normal day for me but I hope you're having fun. 💜💜

My stalker fsdkfns lmao pls

Happy belated holidays my dear!!

Now if MC were to cheat... oh boy

Warnings: delusional, obsessive, possessive, and general yandere behavior, toxic relationship, yelling, suicide threats, kidnapping/entrapment

Ofc she would never but it kinda depends on the reason. Like if it was because she was feeling lonely/isolated then the reaction would be still horrible but not as horrible as if she just did it bc she got bored. If that happened, full stop she'd become a prisoner basically. So if it were for the first reason:

Jungkook would be the most likely to lash out at her. He would never physically hurt her or anything, but he would yell. He'd also be the most self-loathing but instead of dealing with it, he would channel that into making sure she never leaves his sight again. I'm talking he's taking her everywhere and if for some reason he can't, he's making sure one of the guys are with her. Basically he's suffocates her just not literally lol

Taehyung... now that would be what breaks him. Like he was straight up scared of loving some partially for this reason. He'd take the manipulative route and ask "Should I kill myself? Would that make you happy?" Would hold that over her head but would never break up with her.

Namjoon is the one that would need to be talked out of just keeping her at the house. He would pull away and be cold to such a degree that she would have to beg for days and on her knees for him to forgive her. Even then, she'd be similarly stuck to his side at all times.

Hoseok reacts pretty similarly to Jimin, like there's no way it was your fault. He's the problem, and he'll fix it. If you feel alone, you won't be anymore. You don't need your own room or bed if you feel alone, so he'll burn them and you can stay with one of them kind of "coping"

Yoongi... Yeah, he's not going to take it well. He'll lash out similar to Jungkook at her but then he'll ask for an apology and he needs it to be sincere. If it is, great! They're still together, and she's now required to wear a ring with a tracker on and if she takes it off without one of them present... yikes, just don't

Jin would lose his marbles, more than he already has so rip. He'll manipulate her into begging and pleading for forgiveness by crying and despairing about what must be wrong with him that you did that. From then on, he manipulates her into doing anything he wants, even staying home all the time unless it's going somewhere with one of them.

Overall, they don't react well lmao

[babithyn]

November 16th, 2023

tw~ ed

Hey guys, good news! I lost 6lbs within the past 3 days :) i mean its not much compared to what my goal is but im happy im below 230lbs.

I mean my highest weight was 259lbs and that was right before i gave birth to my babygirl :)

Granted, i haven’t been very disciplined so i’m kind of confused as to how i lost 6lbs. Maybe its water weight from all the swelling. I mean my feet we’re probably 4x their normal size. I couldnt even fit into my slides which were size nines and i where a seven. But i can fit in them again!

Also my bf’s hoodie use to be snug around my waist and now its loose so my stomach has gone down a little bit.

We went grocery shopping and i was doing my best to get healthy food and low c@l food. Bit i had to remind myself that i cant eat to little of food otherwise i wont have the nutrients in my body to nurse my daughter.

Another thing i have to remind myself is that the breast milk my body is making weighs about 10-15lbs. But because i’m nursing i should be loosing 1-2lbs a month. Cuz nursing burns calories surprisingly enough.

My goal is to loose another 5lbs by the end of the month. Although thanksgiving is around the corner so thats a little scary. But i might not be going to my moms for it meaning i might not celebrate it in general.

My mom had changed plans on me and is now going to her friends for thanksgiving. See that wouldnt be a problem if i didnt have a newborn and i knew her friend. But considering i dont know her friend i’m not comfortable taking my daughter or myself to some random strangers house. I don’t like meeting new people in general and you can times that by 20 now that i have a kid.

But in other good news. :) my bf and i were approved to rent a house! we get to move in on the first. Meaning we gotta start packing now. But i get to have my pupper with me!

i spent $100 to get him esa certified. So that i dont have to pay a pet fee and they cant refuse us housing or kick us out because we have a dog. So things are looking up for us!

The house is in a nice neighborhood and it has 3beds and 2 and a half af baths. Its two stories with a backyard and a garage! We got a brand new sofa and loveseat set!

The only downside to the house is that we’re going to be paying $2k a month not including utilities. And i probably wont be able to go back to work till about february maybe march. and i’ll probably only be doing part time for the first couple month’s i go back. On top of that ill have to pay for a babysitter.

Im thinking it might be more financially beneficial to just be a stay at home mom until she’s about 8-11months that way she’ll have started saying small words and hopefully have taken her first steps. then i can take her to a daycare and i can go to work full time.

but other than that we also need to get some more furniture and appliances. we need a washer and dryer, a new bed since we have a queen and our daughter loves sleeping with us. We also need a dining room table, dishes, cook wear, dressers nightstands. granted i have two dressers at my moms. its just that they’re heavy as all hell.

But on the plus side my mom and her bf are willing to help us and my bestfriend is coming to visit and said she would help us. And i’m sure my bf’s friends wouldnt mind helping its just a matter of him asking. I mean him and his friends are cops and if you know anything about first responders its that they have a huge sense of camaraderie.

Its kind of funny im dating a cop. I’ve never been a huge fan of them but it’s mostly the system that im not a fan of. it lets the bad ones get away with horrible shit.

But thats off topic. actually the bottom half of this entire post is off topic.

Anyways if you’ve read this far thank you :) Stay safe and much love thank you for coming to my ted talk:)

[fandomn00blr]

Happy Birthentines!! How about a big dumb sweater for either Fenders or I could see Loghain/Stroud being fun for that one? Whichever you prefer! 💖

Oh goodness...why not both?!

(Fenders is in the Dark Sprawl AU...this might actually make it into Linked somehow/someday, so spoilers, I guess?)

The Link’s clothes never seem to fit particularly well, but the sweater he’s taken to wearing under his threadbare parka since it got colder is especially offensive in its ill-fittedness.

“Where did you get that sweater?” Fenris asks him.

“Found it in the trash pile at Lirene’s!” he grins triumphantly. “Isn’t it great? Can’t believe she was gonna toss it!”

“It’s…actually terrible,” Fenris says. But the dejected look on Anders’ face makes him feel bad enough to say, “I’m sorry…?” at least.

“Well, that’s just your opinion,” Anders huffs. “We can’t all pull off head-to-toe black spandex!”

“Oh, well there goes my suggestion for a new team uniform…” Hawke snorts. “I think the sweater looks nice on you, Anders. Really adds another layer to your whole…look.”

Fenris rolls his eyes as Anders beams at her. Her backhanded flattery always seems to work on him.

…

Fenris finds himself in Anders’ apartment. Alone. The Link is still in quarantine at the hospital, and he’s forbidden Fenris from even trying to sneak in and visit him out of ‘concern for his safety’ until Justice can be rebooted somehow. It’s all bullshit. Fenris has fought Sprawlers and signal poachers all by himself, broken through Danarius’ encryptions, and he would much rather take his chances staying at the Link’s side, protecting him from whatever Meredith’s Counselors intend to do to him now that he seems to have lost the protection Justice provided.

But he’s here instead. The closest he can be to Anders because the idiot refuses to let him anywhere near him. The mansion is too empty. Too haunted. Too far away from everyone and everything Fenris has come to care about. Plus, he can still feel the remnants of Danarius’ broken code coursing through him, and the house, with all of its various security protocols, only seems to remind him of the fact that he will never be completely rid of his technology. But here…even without Anders or Justice…he has always felt…free.

He goes to Anders’ bedroom, searching for more of him to hold onto. In a rumpled pile of laundry next to his mattress, he sees that horrible sweater he had insisted on wearing all winter, initially, Fenris suspects, just to spite him. How many nights had he impatiently yanked it off of him or begrudgingly tossed it to him in the morning instead of hiding it or secretly burning it, which is what he would have liked to have done back then?

He’s so glad he didn’t now. He gathers it up and holds it to his face, breathing in whatever trace of Anders he can find here. Thankfully, he hasn’t washed it since the last time he wore it, and it still smells just like him. Like the generic shampoo he uses and soap from the clinic…like his connection…and Justice…and imitation maple syrup and…fuck. He misses him. Misses them both. And he’s scared. What if they transfer him to the Facility ‘for his protection’? What if he ends up like Karl? What if Justice is really gone forever?

Fenris pulls the big dumb itchy sweater on over his head and curls up on Anders’ bed for the night, hoping that in the morning, Merrill will come find him and tell him how they’re going to fix this.

(Spoiler: she will!)

And here's some straight-up Stroghainoff fluff <3

“It gets colder here than in the West,” Stroud says one night, draping an arm over him and snuggling in close behind him as he gently presses his lips to the back of his shoulder.

“I’ve spent the majority of my life in Ferelden,” Loghain grumbles.

“Well, I haven’t.”

Loghain rolls over to face him. “So what? You want me to knit you a sweater or something?”

“No…” Stroud laughs. “Though now that you mention it…”

“I haven’t tried to knit anything since I was a boy.”

“I’d settle for a scarf.” He grins. “Or how about just a cuddle?”

“You’d look absurd in a scarf…”

Stroud shrugs. “So a cuddle, then?”

“Guess so…” Loghain pulls him in against his chest and wraps his arms around him. How Stroud could ever claim to be cold is beyond him. The man is an absolute furnace.

…

Stroud doesn’t say anything when he’s asked to sign the requisition forms the next day and notices a few skeins of yarn have been added in Loghain’s hand at the bottom of the supply list. He resists the urge to follow him when the old man begins to excuse himself early each night from the dining hall. And he tries to announce his arrival through exaggerated grunts and heavy footsteps and give him enough time to scramble and put away whatever he’s been working on before entering their room.

But after a week of this, he finds it difficult not to pry.

“Mac Tir…” he says, setting aside the stack of reports he’s meant to be reading and responding to before bed.

“Hrm?” Loghain looks up from the book he’s been reading.

“I can’t help but notice you’ve been up to something…”

“Up to something?” Loghain looks decidedly guilty, but at least he’s smiling. “You think I’m planning another coup? Or fooling around with your Mistress Woolsey when she’s not in your office barking orders at you from Weisshaupt?”

“No.” Stroud chuckles. “I think you’re up to something far more devious…”

“Yes. Yes…that is me. The Traitor, as they say.”

“I think you’ve been trying to teach yourself to knit.”

“Trying?” Well, now he looks offended. “I told you I already know how to knit. Sister Ailis saw to it that we could knit and mend our own clothes just as well as we could fight.”

“Why are you being so secretive about it, then?”

“Because, you idiot, I’ve been trying to knit something for you…”

“Can I…see it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because…it’s all wrong.” Loghain sighs. “I’ve had to start over twice already. And will probably have to scrap this one, too!”

“What’s the problem? Maybe I could take a look…”

“The problem is you…you’re all…” He waves his hand up and down and across, motioning toward Stroud’s torso. “I think I have the measurements right, but then it just ends up looking like a big dumb sweater.”

“I wouldn’t mind a big dumb sweater.”

“Well, then…” Loghain huffs. He walks over to his chest of belongings and flings it open, then produces a wonderfully fuzzy-looking sweater in Warden blue, which he tosses across the room to Stroud. “Here.”

Stroud immediately pulls it on over his tunic, beaming at him. “It’s actually perfect.”

“It’s lop-sided…”

“Is not…”

“Yes it is. Right…” Loghain crosses the room and tugs on the right arm of the sweater. “...here. This arm looks longer. But I counted the rows. It shouldn’t be.”

“Well, I think it’s lovely. And I’m going to wear it everyday now that Fereldan winter has arrived.”

“Maker spare me…” Loghain groans. “Just don’t…tell anyone I made it.”

“They all know that we’re together, Mac Tir.”

“I know that! But they don’t know that I’m a terrible knitter. It’s embarrassing!”

Thank you thank you thank you for these prompts! Can't think of a better way to spend my birthday morning than frantically writing angst and fluff and angsty fluff for some of my favorites.

[severed-ties-uf]

Chapter Eight: Vessel

This takes place around an hour after the previous chapter.

Sans wakes up from his nap, finding that he’s been lying on Chara’s shoulder the whole time. “Oh! Chara- um I’m sorry.” He says hastily, blushing from the realization.

Chara places their hand on his shoulder, giving him a cordial smile. “It’s okay, Sans. Did you sleep well?”

Sans looks back, returning the smile. “Yeah. I really needed that nap. Sorry for falling asleep on your shoulder.”

“It’s okay! I’m glad you slept well!” Chara responds, giving Sans a hug.

Sans returns the hug, and starts running his hands through their hair. Eventually they separate, looking around, Sans sees Asriel and Jackie sitting on the couches opposite and adjacent to the one he’s sitting on with Chara. He notices them glancing at him and Chara.

Jackie chuckles to himself before speaking. “So, are you two a thing, or~?

Asriel sends him a glare.

“W-w what? No! We’re just friends!” Sans nearly yells in response, angrily.

“We’re just best friends, right now!” Chara happily says at the same time.

Before anyone can say anything else, they’re interrupted.

“So, here you are…”

Jackie turns around to face the voice. “What do you want, Layla?”

Layla, Jackie's older sister (around 16 years old), walks in. Long white hair, and red eyes sticking out. “You know exactly what I want, brother.” Layla says, cockily. Looking over to Chara. “The royal Pet's blood, of course.”

Asriel stands up, facing her. “In what world do you think I will allow that, leech!?”

Jackie stands up as well, showing his claws. “What he said!” He bites back.

“Oh, I think you missed the point. I don’t care, I’m getting it one way or another.” Layla says.

An ear shattering bang goes out.

Asriel -200 hp (4800/5000 remaining)

Asriel grunts in extreme pain, after the bullet hits him in the head and breaks on impact. “Sans, get Chara the FUCK out of here, NOW!” Asriel demands, as he summons two massive fireballs launching them at Layla.

Without a word, Sans grabs Chara's arm and teleports away.

Sans teleports himself and Chara to his house, right at the doorstep. He looks over to Chara. “Are you okay!?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit shook. What about you?” Chara responds turning to face him.

“I’m okay as well.”

“Good.” Chara responds.

They both stay there in silence for a moment.

“What about the others? What if Layla gets the best of them?” Sans worriedly asks, looking down and taking Chara's hand.

Chara holds Sans' hand, lifting them up to between their faces. “They’ll be fine, I’ve seen Asriel fight, he’s no lightweight. Jackie, not only is a vampire, but is also one of Asriel's favorite sparing partners, he’s not as strong as his highness, but he’s still capable.” Chara says confidently.

“Yeah, you’re right. I probably shouldn’t worry.” Sans says, looking into Chara's eyes.

Chara looks to the side, thinking. Eventually, they speak. “I’m honestly worried about what will happen to Layla. Asriel won’t kill her unless she forces him to. But if word goes out that she attacked him, Asgore will have her executed on the spot.”

“Yeah.” He says nonchalantly (he doesn’t care). He turns, opening the door, letting Chara in.

“So this is what the inside of your house looks like?!” Chara asks, looking around at everything.

“Yup. This is where we live, home sweet home.” Sans says. He then gives Chara a brief tour before leading them to his room.

“So this is your room?”

“That it is, come on in. I apologize for the mess.” Sans opens the door.

Chara looks around, seeing the general messiness and half falling apart bed. “It’s not too messy. What happened to your bed?” They ask.

“Oh.” Sans chuckles nervously. “Yeah, my dad got really mad one day, and… I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Chara covers their mouth. “That’s horrible! I feel bad!”

“It’s okay.” Sans somberly responds.

They both sit down on the bed, talking for a bit, eventually the conversation shifts.

Sans looks over at Chara. “Chara…”

“Yes?” Chara perks up, making eye contact with Sans.

“I’ve been wondering this for a long time. What’s it like being a human in the underground?” He asks.

Chara exhales slowly. Pausing, before finally speaking. “It’s… it’s stressful. Every day, I wake up knowing that it very well could be my last. Not just because of the other monsters down here, but because of my father. One of these days, Asgore is going to kill me for my soul. Mom and Asriel can only protect me from him for so long before he finally kills me.” Chara looks down at their hands, holding the rose that Sans had given to them. “I’ve accepted that fact, it’s part of the reason why I always try to be positive; my life is very limited; so, why not make the best of it? ” Chara says, tears slowly appearing in their eyes.

Sans looks at them, tears building in his own eyes. “Chara… I- I’m so sorry.” He gives them a hug, resting his chin on their shoulder, meanwhile they rest their chin on his.

Chara begins to cry. “I try to not think about it, but- it’s always there. My fate was sealed the moment I fell. You all mean so much to me, I-“

Sans says nothing, just holding on to them tighter.

“I'm so scared, Sans…”

“I know…” Sans says, beginning to cry himself.

“I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I- I-“ Chara starts sobbing.

Sans holds Chara tightly, letting them cry; while also silently crying himself. They stay like this for a while, until Chara’s crying slows to a crawl.

“When he gets my soul, he’ll cross the barrier, get six others, break the barrier, and commit genocide on humanity; enslaving all those who remain. When I die, humanity dies… Which is why me and Asriel made an agreement; or rather he promised me something.” Chara says somberly, wiping tears from their eyes and snot from their nose.

“What agreement?” Sans asks, gently holding Chara's face with his hands.

“He promised, that when I die, he’d take my soul, cross the barrier, and…” Chara begins to tear up once again, unable to finish their sentence.

“And what?”

“Kill himself.”

Author's notes:

For this chapter, I really wanted to get into the mind of Chara, because it’s mostly focused on Sans' mind up to this point. Underfell is a horrifying world for Chara to be living in, and I wanted to explore that here.

And wow this got dark.

Also, Asriel only took 200 damage from being shot in the head because Boss Monsters have ludicrous defense my AU, and Layla shot him with a subsonic, 9mm hollow point.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Extra

[zangethefate]

I lost my home.

Well, let me explain some things first. I’m a turkhis person who learned english as a second language, so bare with me if I write wrong or have mistakes in general. I don’t know if any of you know but turkey had a major earthquake a few days back and it’s still  happening constantly. Even they are after shocks, it still happens alot. So, I was living in this apartment at the top floor with my mother, and we had a lovely syrian family as a neighboor. We moved there after our grandmother kicked us out and we had to live on the streets for some time (I think two to three months?) untill we got the house. (The reason it took long was because the previous owners was still leaving the house.) After we got the house, we didn’t had lamps to shine our rooms, or furnitures or anything in our house. It was ours though, and we were happy about that, it was better than the streets of turkey if you ask me. It had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, one kitchen, two living rooms, so imagine how this house is. I’m saying house because it was our house, not just an apartment, it felt comfy, cozy, it felt everything to me. I never had my own room untill we got that house, and I felt how one can have their own house, own things, even a bed, or a carpet, I was so happy and you can imagine my happiness as a young kid who didn’t know shit expect living and surviving. I made a make shift futon the first night, and our furniture came after a week. We added lights after three days, and to that point we were using candles. I burned myself like a idiot twice, it was an accident, and I’m a very clumsy person. We lived there (with my sister as well, she’s 6 years older then me now, and she’s married.) I think 5-6 years, maybe more, but I had so many memories that I kept inside that room of mine. Small rocks from where I visited, my clothes, some of them were given by my mother, from 80′s and 90′s, old news papers that was from 2000′s, and my father’s lovely discs of movies, I remember few of them but I know I watched all of them, my drawings from my school years, my pictures with my family, my favorite plushies that were given me by people who cared about me alot. I’m not going to talk about my past life, but more on this apartment, what happend in there, and how I’m here right now. So, before a week ago, my sister wanted us to come to her (now) husband’s city, since she was living in there. I hate traveling, because I hate to put bags and move, sit in a buss for a day, no, not for me, but since it was my sister’s special day, I had to. My mother didn’t wanted to go either because she’s sick, her legs and her back got broken by a car accident that happend when I was 13. Since then she’s okay, healed, but still has her problems, such as not holding heavy things, getting tired easly, more so and fort. So staying in a car one day was not for her, but she had to go, it was her daughters special day and well, both of us decided to accept it. I have a pet Budgie, his name is Charlie, and he came with us as well, because it became my sister’ budgie, but we were taking care of him because she was busy with her work and all that. Taking him with us was a great choice. I didn’t bringed too much, my laptop, equipment, some clothes to wear, other things that you took with you when you travel.  But I forgot one thing. My Graphics tablet, my drawing tablet, Wacom, and at the time I thought,  “Oh, I’m gonna be back anyways, might as well not take it, no one will steal it.”... I don’t remember when, but the first eartquake happend, it was two days after my sisters wedding. It was 04:23 AM. I felt the shake while I was sitting on the ground, talking with my friends, about some random shit that I don’t remember it now. I couldn’t realise how that was just, horrible and serious, untill I was... Too late. We talked about the earthquake for a bit, most cities that felt was alot, and one of them was my city, my home, and I thought “Okay, my apartment building is old, but it won’t fell, nothing will happen.” I was totally wrong. Then I went to sleep. Thinking that everything is fine. When I woke up by the sudden cries of my mother, I was confused, like wtf is going on, and my sister’s cry came, and my father who came to visit my sister for her wedding, looked at me like I’ve done something wrong, and my father, never looked at me like that, ever. I got up, asked what happend, then with a horrifyingly, my mother screamed at me, telling me that, our house, is now gone. I couldn’t believe it of course, like how can you believe it when a person suddenly says that you lost your damn home, a damn building, like how?? Then I learned by my father that there was a second earthquake happend, which caused my whole apartment building falling into cracks of nothingness, my memories? my mothers car? everything? yeah, all gone. Poof. As of now I’m writing this, I’m still staying with my sister, and her husband, while my mother is back in my home city, and my building? It went on the news, because It was placed in the middle of the most populated area of the city. My belongings? They are gone, with my clothes, my memories, my drawing tablet, everything. The only funny and grime part is the fact that while the earthquake was happening second time there was a thief who was going to rob some of the houses, I think ours but I don’t know, he died in there. Suffocating to his death, while he tried to stole. Does he deserve it? I don’t know, I’m no god. If you are asking for my neighboor, she’s fine, her kids are safe, but I don’t know what happend to the other home owners, everyone knew each other in the apartment so no one recognised the thief, that was the funny part to me. I don’t feel pity, not anything along those lines, I cannot, that’s just not in my book. I’m not writing this to get attention, or pity, or that or something else, I cried for days after ages, even if I was homeless, I didn’t cry, but this?  Not just me, my friend lost his home too, he had this bright carrier, a photographer and a videographer, a director, a streamer, he did so much, he loved cars, gaming, you name it, sounds very charming isn’t it? I am only happy, that my bird Charlie and my dear mother is safe, for other things? No. I slept on cold hard floors for that house, tried to decorate as much as I can because I didn’t know much about it, I couldn’t grasp the concept of it so, my dear sister while she was staying with us, helped me to decorate my room. She even put a smiley face on my flicker, I still remember the image. I am sorry, for to those who lost their homes, to ones who lost their important belongings, their loved ones, their pets, maybe even themselfs, I didn’t do anything but I am sorry, and no I cannot no longer draw anything digital. I don’t even have the head to write anymore properly like I did in the old times, my shining times of my day, I was going to get my drivers license, go to the univercity, get a constant proper job. A normal, teen adult life, that’s all I wanted, all I ever wanted, I never wanted more or less, and I’m sure some of you didn’t either, maybe did, I don’t know you, you don’t know me expect what I say, but, please, take this as a message to yourself... Always think that you are on your last day, live everything in the best you can, apprish whatever you have, care for yourself, your mind and body, everything you can. I cannot, not anymore, but you still can, kiss or, hug, or fist bump to those you love so much, call lost long friends if you needed to, drink your beer and look out for yourself, because really, I didn’t know what could’ve happend, neither can you, nor anybody else. I love you, I hope you live the best life, live in the best. I’m sorry again, making you read this long shit, but I had to write it. Good bye, and farewell, my friend.

[imarriedaghost]

what is it called when you don't feel anything but not quite numb? I say not numb, yet, because the things I do feel are all negatives. Sorrow, sadness, emptiness, stress, etc. But joy? Optimism? Anything other than darkness? Yeah, right. I'm such a liar when someone asks how I'm holding up. "I'm fine." I pretend. I annoy myself admitting the D word. Depressed. My special person would see right through my facade.

The first meaningful death experience, I went numb. Lost in the void. Stuck on the couch. Same spot, never moved. Didn't take care of myself. Stuck in a drunken haze. 3 years of that limbo. Only a couple months of "I think I'm getting better." Life lifted me and slammed me further down the void.

Second meaningful death experience absolutely broke me. I couldn't even fathom losing that special person. Took me by complete surprise. This mourning is different, though. This person helped me through the first experience. Took care of me. My pet. Our lives. Brought me back to where some light is. Just to be thrown back into the darkness when I had to say goodbye to them. I want to go back to being stuck on the couch. Never moving. Never leaving the house, again. This time I can't. So, I go through the motions. Who's going to make sure my furry friend eats? Shit, make sure they stay alive. Stay healthy. I hate being awake. I hate not being here with them. I hate that they're just gone. MY person, gone. My safe space, gone. The anchor that made sure I touched grass every once in a while...gone. Dust in a box on my table. An empty spot on the couch. Cold side of the bed. Back to showering solo. Dinner for one. Texts that are never delivered. Never read. Their voice only in recordings. The person who understood me. Saw me below the surface level. Loved me for me. Just gone. They knew all the ins and outs of my mind, body and soul. Knew how I was feeling by a sigh. Knew I meant left when I said right. They were quite literally my world. I feel like I'm floating through space, lost. Not really searching for home. Not really searching for help. Just hoping to wake up and see them next to me again. Just a horrible dream, right? Going on five years (starting from the first death) in this never ending nightmare. Though, I don't remember the first three, these last two are the worst. Just a meatsuit pretending to function to be left alone. So disinterested in everything, Everything is such a bore. So overwhelming. So "I just need to hug my person" vibes. All I can do is kiss their urn goodnight and reminisce on all the years I was able to physically feel them. Smell them. Hear them. Call them. Feel their body heat. Listen to their abnormal heart beat.

I don't feel shit but a void. Empty. All this grief - left over love, just festering inside me while I build back up my wall they so cleverly broke down. So vulnerable and soft. Have I mentioned lost? I don't see a light at the end of this. How could I? The light broke when they took their last breath. When I saw them stop breathing. I can't forget. The look in their eyes. The way their heartbeat sounded different when they brought them back from coding. The way they were there but not there. Locked in syndrome they called it.

I talked to them in my head, Out loud to their urn. I so badly crave to hear them respond back to me. Their voice. Their laugh. People ask what I miss most about them. Well, just them in general. I say the connection and intimacy. The bond, whatever. It all leads back to them. I miss THEIR intimacy. OUR connection and bond. I feel myself sinking further and further to the point of no return.

I only preserver myself to make sure my furry-friend has everything they need. Food, water, a home, mental stimulation.

I have to remember to play with them, that's their love language. I'm lacking in that department and I see them sad about it. I know I need to do something about it and yet, I still don't. If I lose them... I'm for sure a goner.

Walking directionless in the dark.. Lights on, no one home. I tell people it comes in waves, but like I said, I'm a liar. The "waves" have pulled me under and I have not come to the surface for air in a long, long time. Stuck in my own head. Hiding further and further into my shell.

Will I ever see light again?

[jodilinbio]

I don’t remember my mother working until I was older, though I vaguely recall my parents owning a record store when I was very young. Also, when I was little, my father did some extermination work for my mom’s dad, who owned an extermination business.

During my teens, both parents traveled the state selling eyeglass frames to optometrists. They even traveled a bit in New Hampshire and Vermont.

In my early twenties, before they moved down to Florida, they owned a jewelry store in a mall. It was actually one of those carts set up in the center of the walkway between the rows of stores.

The pets we had growing up consisted of poodles, birds, and some rodents. I had gerbils and guinea pigs when I was older. We also had a rabbit for a while during my later childhood, as well as some hermit crabs.

The only thing I really remember my mother telling me about sex and boys was basically not to do anything more than kiss on the first date and to make sure the man I married was Jewish.

“But what if I fall in love with someone who isn’t Jewish?” I once asked her.

“You don’t let it happen,” she said.

As I grew older, I realized how silly that was. Like we can control who we’re attracted to or who we fall in love with any more than we can control our preferences for colors or flavors? Should it even matter who we fall in love with as long as we’re happy?

But I always preferred women over men, at least for the most part. So later on in life, when I was twenty-four, openly bi, and visiting my parents in Florida, my father told me not to tell anyone about my sexuality.

“Why?” I asked him. “Should I be ashamed of it? Because if someone I told had an issue with it, I wouldn’t want them in my life anyway.”

During my preteen years, I was often left at my aunt and uncle’s house with their two daughters, which wasn’t usually much fun. June was a bundle of nerves, and Ronnie, my mother’s brother, was a mean bully. This was probably why June was usually wound up and divorced him later on.

Cousins Lori and Lisa could sometimes be fun to hang out with, but sometimes they could be little terrors. Lori, who was a year older than me, liked to boss me around. I was closer to Lisa, who was a year younger.

For reasons still unknown to me, my uncle always seemed to harbor animosity towards me. I haven’t seen any of them since I was around twenty years old, and I can’t say I miss them.

Ronnie was definitely the worst, shoving me around when I didn’t move fast enough for his liking when we’d go out somewhere, and just being a bully in general. My sister Tammy did her own bullying too, and once bloodied my lip right in front of him. He just sat there staring at us dumbly, as if it was perfectly normal behavior.

I had mixed emotions about leaving Ronnie and June’s place when I stayed with them. While I looked forward to returning to my own bed and toys, I dreaded facing my mother’s wrath, which could be quite nerve-wracking, even scary. It was worse when Tammy was with me because I knew she would tell my mother all sorts of horrible things I supposedly said and did, most of which she made up. But Tammy was the oldest, and that meant she was the most believable, so I would certainly be punished if she decided to tell on me, whether the stories were true or not.

When I was around ten, the visits to their house stopped. I’m not sure why. Maybe Ronnie and June were tired of having me there, or maybe my parents were fighting with them. I know they had their fights with them, just like they did with my father’s brother and his wife. Someone was always fighting with someone in my family. Mom or Dad would beat up on Larry, who beat up on Tammy, who beat up on me. It was crazy, and I often wondered if there’d ever come a day when someone was killed.

The more I think about it as I write this, the more I believe they did have a falling out, and it was probably over an injury I received in the town’s high school gym. This seems to be around the time the visits stopped. During the summer when I was around ten, I spent most of the summer at their house, and Lori, Lisa, and I would ride our bikes to the high school for daytime activities. There were sports, crafts, swimming, etc. It was actually kind of fun.

I was a bit of a gymnast in those days, though I certainly preferred ice skating and roller skating. One day in the gym, I was doing a series of handsprings over the vault. On one particular handspring, I veered toward the side once my hands hit the vault and my feet were directly overhead. I ended up badly spraining my pinky finger. At first, I thought it was broken because of how swollen it was.

My less-than-sympathetic uncle did nothing about it, and this could very well have been why they stopped talking. When I later joined my parents at our summer cottage at the beach, Mom wasn’t too happy about it at all. She took me to a clinic right away, and they put a splint on my finger. So yeah, it probably was broken.

I always felt more uncomfortable when Lori and Lisa would come to stay with us versus when I stayed with them. There may have been Ronnie to deal with at their place, but at my place, there was my mother, who would often compare me to them (not in a good way) and give me the “Why can’t you be more like them?” spiel, making me feel like I wasn’t good enough as I was. It seemed I could never measure up to Lori and Lisa, no matter what I did.

My other uncle, Martin, who people called Marty, wasn’t much better. He was a mean bully too, and I doubt he’d have hesitated to kill me one day when I pissed him off by slamming the door in his face if I hadn’t frozen in fear.

“Open this door!” he demanded when I shut it on him when he came over looking for my parents, who weren’t home at the time. This was because of the way he and his wife treated me when I stayed with them at the campgrounds they camped at which I’ll get to later. So I opened the door and let him scream at me. Even his mother was scared. As I grew older, my fear turned to anger, so it’s lucky for both of us that I simply stood there and took his shit. Had I been like I am now, I’d have either gone to jail for kicking his ass, or he’d have gone to jail for kicking mine. I hope he would have anyway!

Even my father had an underlying macho stance despite being usually mellow, and I did see him slap my mother once when I was around eight. This memory has haunted me throughout the years. It’s even more disturbing to know that had my mother resisted after being slapped, he’d have probably beaten her right there in front of me, never caring how it might have traumatized me. After he slapped her, my mother tried to justify his behavior in a private one-on-one, assuring me it was only because of his heart issues. I was just a kid back then and believed anything I was told. However, as an adult, I know that this was a poor excuse for his actions and that if my mother had had any self-respect, she wouldn’t have made such lame excuses for him. Lots of people have health problems like he did, yet they don’t go around slapping their wives and traumatizing their children.

Marty’s wife, Ruth, could be sweet at times, but she was the phoniest person I ever met! She had a big mouth and loved to gossip, but so did the whole family. They had two kids, Polly and Philip though I didn’t see them very often.