#because sometimes i can't do anything/all i do is sleep

[postracehair]

trust me

max verstappen x reader | 2.3k

after an incredible (and wet) weekend in brazil, you have a confession to make.

cw: a loving relationship! discussion of anxiety/fear/worrying about your race car driver bf, healthy communication, and softness galore.

a/n: being a wag must be so stressful. like, damn! also, rain races stress me out, personally. this fic is about that.

__

The triple header comes to an end in the best way possible.

Max Verstappen wins the São Paulo Grand Prix from a 17th-place start! It's the stuff of dreams. The fist around your heart unclenches just a little bit as you watch him smiling, roaring, hoisting his well-earned trophy aloft. It's your best day in a long time, watching your darling boyfriend like that, and you celebrate with everyone late into the night. The Championship battle looms in the background but tonight is about the hard work from the weekend. The stress, the frustration, the damn rain. All of it worth it for the pride you all feel right now.

But what comes after -- that, you can admit, you enjoy even more. Three weeks until Las Vegas and Max and the team have plenty of work to do before then, but for now? For now, it's this: rest.

Everyone gets to go home, finally. And for you, home is wherever Max is. You've spent the first few days of the break thus far at his place. On the floor with the cats, on the couch watching movies. In his bed, sleeping, sometimes, other times... not so much. Hours and hours just being together. You'll have plenty of time for this once the season ends but you can never get enough of him.

You're on the couch, sprawled across the length of it with a book in hand. It's a good one, so much so that you don't notice Max until he taps your ankle and you jump.

"Jesus," you gasp. His lips are pulled up at one corner in the precursor to a full grin, sweatpants slung low enough that you can see the branded band of his underwear between the drawstrings and the hem of his t-shirt. "Where did you come from?"

"Watching race replays," he says with a shrug. "Scooch." You tug your legs back and sit up a little, bookmarking your page as he rounds the couch and plops down where your feet were.

"Max," you whine. "I like to watch those, too. So you can do that thing where you narrate like, every second." You're teasing, but only a little. For all the jokes about "maxplaining," you really do love how he explains things. He tells you what he was thinking at every turn, what the trick is, how long it took him to get it right. He points out his mistakes and those of the other drivers. All of it thoroughly and with enthusiasm, answering your questions like you're the best student he's ever had.

"Yeah, well," he says, sinking into the couch, arm stretched across the cushions towards you. Your eyes rake over the line of his bicep as he talks. "You don't like rain races very much. Wasn't sure you'd want to see it again."

That gets your attention. "How did you know that?" You've never told him outright that they stress you out. It's really important to you that you keep your cool at the track, that you don't do anything to let on that he should worry about you.

But you should know better, it seems.

"I can tell," Max says, looking right at you. "I pay attention."

You hum, not sure what to say. "You've got me there," you confess. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," he tuts. "Why the apology? You can feel however you want to. This weekend was complicated."

He feels too far away. You set your book on the ground and shove your toes under this thigh. He keeps his eyes on your face but you fuss with the hem of your t-shirt rather than look back.

"They're exciting. Rain races, I mean." You sigh. "But I can't help but worry, Max. From the garage, it's so --"

You lose track of your words because Max grabs hold of your legs and tugs them over his thighs as he moves closer to you, almost crowding you against the arm of the couch. He reaches for your collarbone to pick some lint from your shirt, his other arm slung across your calves.

"Were you scared?" he asks. "This weekend, I mean."

Frankly, you avoid telling him things like this because you don't want to distract him. You don't want to detract from his performance in any way and maybe that's selfish, because you know he's very good at what he does and how you feel isn't going to derail his weekend. But you know he loves you, and you know how deeply he feels things. How much he wants to be a good partner, a good driver, a good man. And you try really hard to let him know that he is all of those things.

The reality of your position in his life is that there will always be people who heavily imply that your presence, your actions, your choices could be at fault. It's ludicrous -- Max has said so many times -- but it makes you hype-aware. You don't want to overstep. It's something you know you should articulate to him properly, but you know he'll be upset that you think you can be anything but a good part of his life. It's an endless cycle.

"Hey," he says, mistaking your silence for emotion. "Liefje, I'm fine." He reaches for you, cupping your cheek with a warm hand. You look up at him and find him frowning.

"I know," you say, leaning into his palm. "I know you are. I just -- I don't want it to sound like I'm a whining baby or something."

"Whining baby?" Max gently rubs the skin under your eye with his thumb. "Psh. We've got some of those on track. You couldn't come close to them if you tried."

That gets a laugh out of you and he cracks a smile at the small victory.

You sigh. "I was scared," you admit, voice soft. Max presses a little closer to you, his hand falling from your face to catch yours, fingers twining together.

"Are you always scared?" he asks. "You're more tense on rain weekends, I can tell that much. But you've never really talked about this. I guess I--" He frowns again. "I've never really asked you."

"That's okay," you say. "It's nothing, really."

Blue eyes bore into yours. "No, I want to know," he presses. "Please, tell me?"

You tip your head back a little, eyes on the ceiling. How to say it?

"I guess I'm always a little scared, yeah," you say. "I don't know how I wouldn't be."

He tugs on your hand so you'll look at him. "What is it, do you think?" The question comes out in his typical way. This must be how he is in driver briefings, you think fleetingly. Max is analytical, methodical, always looking for the root of the problem so he can understand it and adapt.

But how do you explain this?

"Well, it's a dangerous sport," you explain. "As you know. And I -- Max, I love you, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

The furrow of his brow lessens a bit and he presses a light kiss to the back of your hand. Your stomach flutters, even after all this time.

But Max has no time for your mooning, apparently. "Were you scared before we knew each other?" he asks.

You think about it. "It's different, I guess. I was worried, generally. For all of you. I'm still worried for all of you, but --"

His eyebrow quirks and he fails to hide a cheeky smile. "Me the most?"

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand. "You the most. But don't tell Carlos that."

Max tuts. "So, now it's just worse? You feel it more?"

Nodding, you try to explain. "I don't even like watching on TV, now, because I'm so far away. I feel so helpless."

You can't make it to every race but you try your hardest, not only to support Max but for your own sanity. It's easier to calm yourself down when you're around other people who believe in him, when you have access to all the details and when he's only a few steps away when he's out of the car.

"I don't want you to be worried," he says, softly. "You don't let on that you are when we say goodbye before the race, aside from being a little tense."

One of your favorite pieces of race weekends -- those few moments when all of his attention is on you. He makes sure you have everything you need and leaves you with a kiss and a smile and a see you later. His confidence and his competence are like balms.

"When I'm looking at you, I'm not as stressed," you say, a bit shy. "You're very good at your job, you know. And your confidence is convincing."

"I know," he says, seriously. "That's why I know it'll be fine. Do you not know that?"

If he was less determined, you'd ask him to drop it, since you're starting to feel embarrassed. But you know he won't let it lie.

"I know it, too, Max." You reach for his face to push back some fringe from his forehead. "I'll always be worried about you, though. You get in the car and drive away and I just -- sit there. And wait for you to come back."

He frowns, deeper this time. You keep your hand on him, cupping his jaw and running your thumb along his stubble.

"And I love it. You know I was a fan before I met you and it's a dream to be there to watch you race. I love seeing you do crazy things like win from p17. It's so much fun."

He knows this about you. You've got a bit of a reputation for your facial expressions in the Red Bull garage, always the first on your feet when he overtakes, jumping up and down when he extends his lead. It's an infectious kind of joy and energy and you lean into it every time, even if your stomach is churning with anxiety.

Max is quiet for a few moments. He covers your hand with his and leans into it further.

"You trust me, right?"

"Of course," you say right away. "Always."

"I've never really thought about it," he says, slowly. "I mean, in the car. I don't worry about you because I'm not worried, so I just thought you knew not to be, too."

"I'll always worry, Max. Even though I trust you."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Your cheeks heat and you look away from him, pulling your hand free to cradle it in your lap.

"You've got a million other things to worry about besides me," you say. "I don't want to distract you."

Max says your name with a scoff, literally waving his hand as if swatting away your silly notions. "Distract me? Come on," he says. "I wouldn't be a three-time world champion if I could get so easily distracted." He leans into your space, nosing at your jaw. "Even if you are very distracting."

You allow the attention for a few moments before pushing him back with a laugh. His cheeks are flushed, hair a bit of a mess, like after he takes off his helmet. And, god, he looks relaxed. You're so proud of him you can hardly stand it. The season is almost over and you know he's got a lot of work ahead of him, and you've got a lot of worrying. But he's motivated, and you know he can win. You know he'll come back to you.

Max leans his head back on the couch and casts his gaze sideways at you, nose scrunched. "I can't fix this, can I? You're still going to worry."

He sounds so resigned, so disappointed in himself that you tug on his hand so he'll get closer. This time, you frame his face with your hands and kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. Both of you sigh into it, and you drag your mouth along his cheek until you reach his ear.

"I'm still going to worry," you whisper. "But I love you and I trust you. And I know it'll be okay."

Max sighs and presses his forehead to your shoulder, practically pulling you into his lap so he can wrap his arms around you.

"You better hope it doesn't rain for the rest of the season," he mumbles.

"That damn VSC," you groan, pulling back from him a bit. "I was going to tear my hair out!"

Max laughs. "It kept things interesting," he says lightly. "Rain isn't really a problem for me, schatje, you know this --"

"Because you're Dutch, I know, Max." You roll your eyes. "Even Fernando couldn't keep it together! I mean, the gasps from the garage when --"

The seriousness of your conversation fades as you trade tidbits about the race -- you've done this already, hashed it out in the hotel room and the flight home and in bed since Sunday. Max watches you talk, elbow braced on the couch and his head resting in his hand. His eyes sparkle and you know you're amusing him as he corrects you on the turn names and who went in the wall when. Max loves you: you've never doubted this. He loves you and he cares about how you feel and doesn't want you to be worried.

And while you will be, because you love him, you know that it'll be alright.

"Hey," Max says, interrupting your opinions about start procedures. "I love you, okay? Thank you for worrying about me."

"Graag gedaan," you say. Well, you try to say. Max laughs and corrects your pronunciation. You're welcome, he says, over and over, a kiss to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead each time. Ik houd van je. Your lips, your neck, your jaw.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

[turtle-steverogers]

i rlly like ur posts abt how steves rough time with his dad as a little kid affects him later in life. i was wondering do u think the other avengers notice? and if they do what do you think they think/do about it?

also tbh i rlly like ur posts in general lol. i hope you have a good day!

I think the other Avengers notice after some time, considering most of them have similar experiences. I imagine it's sort of an unspoken thing, but it's almost... more notable on Steve, because he's so goddamn young and because when he wakes up from the ice, he's so goddamn stretched thin, that the reserves he usually has to shove all those old habits into a box are low. He's jumpy, the others notice. A raised voice-- especially male-- makes him flinch before he smooths out his face. Making requests is hard for him, and mistakes-- even small ones-- are met with scrambling apologies and frantic attempts to fix the problems.

No one says anything, because they know what it's like, and they don't want him to feel cornered. But there's a hard mission, and he and Natasha are alone in a motel room, and Steve is so clearly low. Kids had been involved. And Natasha had seen the way Steve had shut down to see the marks and bruises on the little boy and girl they'd gotten out of a trafficking situation, and she understood. Albeit for different reasons, but at the core, the pain was the same. They'd both just been kids when they were hurt. Young and lost and wondering what they'd done to deserve the grown ups around them squashing them down and making them feel no better than the dirt.

He doesn't say anything, so she doesn't either. But that night, she can't sleep, and neither can he, and when she hears him shift, roll over. Curl onto his side as the silent tears start, she can't stand it anymore.

Her bed creaks as she slides out, ignoring the rough crunch of the carpet as she pads over to Steve's bed and climbs in behind him.

She crawls onto the bed behind him, stretching out. "Can I hold you?" she whispers. Steve shrugs. He doesn't care. He doesn't understand why she would want to be the big spoon to his hulking frame, but if she wants to, he won't stop her. He's too tired to. He feels her wiggle close and slides an arm over his chest, hugging him flush against her. Her palm rests over his heart and she rubs, soothing.

It eases some of the weight. Some of the ache. He breathes, shaky. She kisses the back of his neck. It's quiet for a long time.

Natasha's voice is soft and private when she speaks. "It hurts, what they did to us, doesn't it?"

Steve freezes, listening. Natasha holds on. He doesn't move her.

"Why would anyone treat children that way? Hurt them that way?"

Steve clenched his jaw, resignation in his gut. "How could you tell?"

Natasha sighs. "I put it together, more or less."

Steve nods and doesn't say anything. It's quiet here, outside the city. The world dark and lacking that telltale bustle. Steve hates it.

"It's alright that you're hurting still," Natasha continues, and Steve wants to beg her to stop, but he's too curious, too desperate for someone to see him that he doesn't. "It's okay that you're still scared. You're safe, darling... you don't have to believe that yet."

He starts to tremble.

"Shh, baby, hey," she soothes and her voice is easy to stomach. Easy to understand. "Breathe for me."

He sucks in a deep breath.

"Did they hit you in the Red Room?" he asks.

"Sometimes," Natasha says. "It was calculated, though. Discipline."

Discipline. Steve doesn't think his father meant for his hits to be discipline. They were just... correction. To get him to shut up. Or maybe so he could get his anger out.

"Breathe," Natasha reminds again. Steve takes another measured breath. "You don't have to tell me anything. But you can. I won't get it all, but I might understand."

Steve considers that. "How old were you? When it started?"

"I don't remember," Natasha said. "Very young. Four, maybe? You?"

"I don't remember either," Steve whispers, and he's furious. Suddenly, he wants to set the world on fire. For the little girl who just wanted a chance to see the sunshine, and for the little boy who just wanted to play. "Maybe the same."

They fall back into silence. Steve can feel his teeth chattering. Natasha starts humming a song, simple and soothing under her breath. He knows he doesn't have to say anything else; she understands. He lets his eyes fall shut again.

[peachhcs]

omg you should write something of an example where will has dropped everything for samy

i'd do anything for you

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will blurb)

when samy struggles with the semester piling up will takes his chances to fly out and surprise her

1.4k words

hiiii on my posting spree fr fr. here’s a little something i wrote up :)) keep sending in requests!!!

au masterlist

samy couldn't do it. she'd been staring at the 8 problem calculus homework for almost three hours now and none of it was clicking. it should've been easy considering she took it in high school, but something about college calculus was 100x harder than what she did a year ago. to make it worse, will was on facetime attempting to help her through the problems, but it wasn't any luck and the tears were growing thicker in her eyes. 

"i don't get it. i don't get it. i don't get it," the brunette buried her face into her arms, trying to keep the sobs from escaping. 

"you're getting so close, baby. i promise. we can take a break if you want?" will offered through the screen. 

she shook her head, "no, i can't. i need to finish this. it's due tomorrow morning and it's already 12:30." 

both of them grimaced hearing how late it was already. will had early conditioning tomorrow which meant he needed to be up in five and a half hours, yet here he was on the call trying to help the youngest hughes through her homework. 

"well, you're super close to figuring it out. you just need to derive the function," will continued softly. 

"that's what i'm doing but it just doesn't make sense. i can't do this," if anyone knew anything about samy it was that she needed to do everything perfectly or else it wasn't good in her eyes. doing homework ended in hell like this sometimes because samy just couldn't pretend like she did it and hope for the best when she turned it in. all of it needed to be correct. 

it also didn't help that there was a lot going on. homework, practice, and classes were staring to pile up as mid semester rolled around and the poor girl was definitely drowning in everything. plus, she really wished her boyfriend was there so he would just hold her and tell her it would be okay. 

"you can do this, i promise. if you could do it in high school, you can do it now," the blonde encouraged, but he saw the solemn look on his girlfriend's face and the tears. it broke his heart seeing her so upset about the homework. 

"i can't, will. i can't do this. i'm so tired from everything. class, practice, homework—i just need a break or something. wish you were here," samy rambled through her frustration. will frowned even more, hating that he wasn't a step away to be able to comfort her and wipe her tears away. 

"i know, i wish i was there too. always thinking of you, sweet girl," his little pet name brought a little blush to her cheeks as she wiped her own tears away. 

she wouldn't ever ask him to come, especially with his collegiate season fully underway. she just couldn't ask him to do that for her, even if she really wanted to. she also knew he 100% would and samy didn't want will missing anything and getting yelled at by his coach just for her. 

"i'm thinking of you, too. i'll figure it out. i should let you go. you have practice in the morning," samy finally realized the time, lifting her head back up and wiping her puffy eyes from the last of her tears. the sight hurt will's heart. 

"are you sure? i don't mind staying up," he said. 

"i'm sure. i promise. you need sleep. i need sleep," samy nodded firmly. 

"okay, well text me if you need anyting else. i love you," the blonde blew a kiss to the phone. samy did the same back before they hung up for the night. 

she decided to just give up. it wasn't worth it anymore and she needed sleep. will, on the other hand, felt horrible. he hated that he couldn't be there for her. the blonde glanced at the clock on his desk knowing that in five hours he needed to be up and it definitely wouldn't feel good, but he didn't care. 

he looked over at gabe's sleeping figure in his bed. that boy could sleep through anything which was convenient when will was on call for a bit longer with samy. he reopened his computer and clicked into expedia. 

would coach kill him? probably. would he sit bench for missing a weekend of practice? definitely. would he get a stern talking to? most likely. did will care? no. 

samy obviously needed him and if he was being honest, he needed her too. with that, will started searching for the earliest flight out to michigan in hopes that a weekend surprise would ease all of the tension. 

—

the brunette was at her desk again after class. she forfeited that homework and just hoped her professor would give her some grace for attempting the problems. what samy didn't know was hannah busy on her side of the room texting with will about his arrival. 

ethan and mark were tasked with picking the blonde up from the airport. they were excited that the younger boy was coming to visit knowing how stressed samy had been the past few days. luckily, gabe and ryan would do their best to cover for will but honestly, the blonde didn't care about the consequences from coach. if they wanted to bench him, they were gonna go ahead and bench him. 

hannah quickly jumped off her bed when there was a small knock on the door. samy didn't hear because of her headphones on, so she was oblivious to will poking his head in with ethan and mark behind him, phones recording. 

"she's studying," hannah whispered and opened the door wider. will smiled to himself, setting his bag down and carefully reaching out to tap his girlfriend's shoulder. 

she turned her head, expecting hannah, but when she caught sight of her boyfriend's large grin she jumped out of her chair. 

"holy shit," the girl exclaimed, jumping into his arms without a second though. the others cheered in excitement. 

"hi, baby," will continued grinning as he held her tightly.

"what are you doing here? what about practice?" the brunette had a million questions as she pulled back to really take in will's face and his presence.

"skipped them," the blonde said like it wasn't a big deal.

"what do you mean you skipped them? i thought you couldn't skip practice or else you'd get in trouble," she was in disbelief as she glanced over at hannah, ethan, and mark.

"i mean yeah, but you needed me and i felt horrible that i couldn't be there for you," his words softened her expression and she melted back into him. 

"you skipped a whole weekend of practice just for me?" the younger hughes wondered, heart feeling full because she's never had anyone say or do that for her before. 

"yup. wanted to see my girl," will beamed. 

neither of them cared about the others still in the room as they connected their lips into a sweet kiss. the three awed, happy to see the couple so happy, especially samy. 

"i love you," the brunette smiled as they pulled away.

"i love you too," will smiled back and that's when mark and ethan decided to be mark and ethan by pouncing on the blonde's shoulders.

"it's good to see you again, man. we've got good things planned for this weekend," mark smirked while samy rolled her eyes at their antics.

"i'm sure. it's good to see you guys too," the blonde laughed along. 

samy went to hannah who's lips were turned up into a smirk that she kept that secret for a good 12 hours. "surprised?" the girl wondered.

"very. thanks for getting him here," samy hugged her roommate.

"of course. anything to get you less stressed for a few days," they shared a laugh. 

she eyed her boyfriend again and he immediately met her gaze probably feeling her stare on him. the two smiled again as will reached out to wrap his arm around her torso. 

"we'll give you two some space, but then we're getting out tonight!" ethan exclaimed as him and mark trailed out of the dorm. 

"i'll go bother amelia two doors down," hannah winked making samy roll her eyes and will flush. 

when it was just the two of them samy returned her gaze to her boyfriend who was already looking at her. she pinched his cheek.

"thanks for coming. i'm really glad you're here." 

"anything for you. i hope this weekend can ease your stress," will pinched her cheeks back before placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

"now that you're here it definitely will," and with that, the couple climbed into samy's bed for some some much needed rest and cuddles that the two haven't had since summer ended.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Cause and Effect

ok this is overdone i feel but i love your writing. something abkut the effects the sides have on themselves? virgil being super anxious and logan overwhelmed and similar things? something w janus? with a good portion of hurt comofrt? love your fics!! – anon

Hi! I love your writing so so so much. I do have a request for you, if you want it: Headcanon that Remus, being responsible for intrusive thoughts, is also responsible for any earworms Thomas gets. Which, he mostly uses to his advantage. Except. He unironically likes Taylor Swift and is terrified of that information getting out because it will ruin his image/he won’t be taken seriously. – anon

I hope you’re having a good week! I was wondering if I could request a hurt/comfort fic with one of the Sides being really bad about announcing/enforcing boundaries, because “it probably means more to them than it does to me” “it’s not that bad” “I can deal with it”. Thank you for considering!! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-esteem issues, panic attacks, anxiety attacks

Pairings: dlampr, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2954

Patton doesn't always remember that he has feelings, too. Logan works…a lot. Virgil lives his life looking over his shoulder. Janus has gotten so good at lying to everyone that it's a wonder he even knows what the truth is himself. Remus wears shame like a badge of honor and the sweater he just can't manage to make himself throw away. Roman is tired. The Sides struggle. The Sides help each other.

Patton doesn't always remember that he has feelings, too.

He's at the center of Thomas's feelings, of course, and that means he's feeling a lot of things that aren't necessarily his all the time. Thomas is happy, he's happy. Thomas is sad, the entire world might be ending. Thomas is angry, he has to hide everything that looks even vaguely orange because something might explode. Thomas is depressed, he finds it hard to even get out of bed.

That extends to the Sides somewhat too; all of them experience heightened emotions, a wonderful by-product of being metaphysical and in the Mindscape. So that means that anything that might happen to them will happen in greater intensity than it would in the 'real world.' But sometimes that can be a little hard to handle, especially if they aren't used to it. For Roman, it looks like being stuck at the worst part of a tragic monologue for hours, for Logan, it looks like that one question on a test that you just can't answer, for Virgil, it's the quiet and unsettling feeling of having something just over your shoulder all the time, for Janus, it's the itch that you just can't scratch, for Remus, it's the noise that's just at the wrong frequency.

It's hard, it's hard for all of them, and so Patton takes it upon himself to help them through it. He takes Roman's hands and just holds them, trying to make him see that he doesn't have to perform, not now, not with him. He sits with Logan and they just talk, about nothing, about everything, until Logan can smile just a little and everything feels better. He puts a pair of headphones on Virgil and wraps him up in a weighted blanket, leaned against his chest. He spoils Janus with a spa day until their favorite snake is too tired to do anything but sleep. And he sings with Remus, as loud and off key as they can, until that's all they can hear.

It's good. It's fun. It's worth it to take care of his kiddos. But sometimes things we say when we're hurting can make other people hurt, and it's important to take care of that too.

Sometimes Patton forgets that. Sometimes he mumbles it's okay, they didn't mean it, through his own tears. Sometimes he has to go and be by himself for a while before he can come back and face them again. Sometimes he has to just…remind himself that they're hurting, and that's what's important.

That isn't true, of course, and when the rest of them find out, it's easy to see that they love him too. They play games until their sides hurt from laughing so much, they crowd around the kitchen to bake cookies and brownies and all manner of sweet treats, they watch movies and cuddle on the couch until they all fall asleep. And when he's upset, because he gets upset too, they all come into his room and tell him how much he means to them until the curtains turn blue again.

***

Logan works…a lot.

There is something to be said for how subtle yet pervasive the concept of Logic is. On first glance, one would associate it primarily with academics, math in particular, or some such thing that is so purely intellectual that it might seem limited in its application. When in reality, when you examine it further, there is some hint of Logic in just about everything that you do, and so there is no escape from the things that you must use it for in order to do it correctly.

Logan has a lot of work. Logan has a lot of work. He has so much work, in fact, that if he stopped to think about how much work he has, he would become so daunted by the prospect of staring at such a tall hill that he would never be able to conquer it. Best to deal with things one problem at a time, take them step by step, and make sure that he doesn't stop to consider the sheer magnitude of what he's doing.

Perhaps this isn't the healthiest way to go about it. Perhaps he would be better suited to breaking down things into more manageable hills, getting over them one step at a time, that sort of thing, but he has no time for that. In the time it would take to do that, the first of the manageable hills would already have become unmanageable by the time he got back to them. So this is how it must be, working and working and working until there is a big enough pause for him to catch his breath.

The others…are not fond of this. Surely, he accounts for enough time to spend with them, but it isn't easily won. It's fraught with the thoughts of what else he could be doing, a passing worry that he's missing something egregious, that he would be better suited to getting all of his work done before allowing himself a break. But that is not the nature of resting, that is the nature of rotting, even if Logan cannot actually give himself a break.

When they find out, they drag him away from his work and into the Imagination, into a library so full of wonder and curiosity that he has no choice but to stop thinking about his work and instead, chase the things he's actually interested in. He darts from bookshelf to bookshelf, peppering the others with did you know, did you know, did you know, and nothing they could say back will be as rewarding as seeing his eyes light up with excitement for the first time in…they can't remember how long it's been.

***

Virgil lives his life looking over his shoulder.

His existence is a constant struggle of did we remember to do this, did we forget this, what if this happens, this is going to go wrong, everything's going to explode in our faces. Every time they so much as leave the house, it's a war of keeping himself together just long enough to make it back so they don't have an embarrassing meltdown in the middle of…wherever they happen to be. The grocery store, the gym, even the fucking sidewalk. It's like walking through the world where there are big flashing neon signs everywhere he turns, each warning about something else awful and terrible, and yet somehow everyone else is able to completely ignore them.

It's terrifying.

And what's worse is that he knows if he so much as breathed a word of this to any of them, they wouldn't believe him. They'd do something like laugh and say he's just freaking out over nothing—which he knows, that's not doing anything to stop it from happening in the first place—or try and rationalize it out of him. Which won't work either, because he knows he's being irrational, that's why he's so mad about it in the first place, but realizing what's happening and being able to do something about it are two different things.

Being able to get himself grounded becomes more of a necessity than anything else. This big hoodie that lets him become an amorphous blob, the heavy things in his pockets he can squeeze when the temptation to break something gets too much, the headphones and earbuds he keeps stashed everywhere with the phone charger clipped to his belt because if he can't listen to music at a moment's notice, he might actually break down in tears. He has to keep himself alert, because if something's going to go wrong, he's going to need to notice it quickly so he can get everyone else on board and safe before it wrecks the rest of their lives.

And when he manages to shove that out of his mouth in an absolute mess of words, he's greeting not with laughs and teases, but with open arms and kind words. He's bundled into Remus's arms and Roman lies on top of them as Janus chuckles, hands carding through his hair to help silence the worst of the mumblings that something's going to go wrong. Logan takes his hand and squeezes it in the rhythm for breathing exercises as Patton sings something soft under his breath.

They're all in the same room. They're all safe. They're all going to be okay.

He can do this. He can do this.

He can do this.

***

Janus has gotten so good at lying to everyone that it's a wonder he even knows what the truth is himself.

Stories need antagonists. A narrative needs something to help it wind its way around all the twists and turns to make it into something worth following. If that means that the truth needs to be a little harder to find, that something needs to go a little wrong before it can be set to rights, well, he's happy to play the part. He's happy to thrill at the surprised looks he gets from the naive little heroes, the shock and betrayal on their faces when they realize he's tricked them, to cackle as they scramble to figure out what to do next.

He's equally thrilled to watch them squirm as he pokes and prods at their comfort zones. Challenging anyone who appears to be steadfast is endlessly entertaining, after all, and he can hardly blame himself when he's rewarded with such passionate monologues or fiery outbursts that end in grudging admittance that maybe he had a point all along. He's never been one to refrain from being smug, after all, and it would be a crime to deprive people of the right to see him in all his victorious glory.

Sometimes, though, that victory feels a little hollow. When it stops being a surprise and more of a resignation, when it's no longer something that they rise to meet but hunker down to grin and bear…when he wins, trouncing them soundly, and they take it on the chin and keep moving…that's not what this is for. He's here to make all of them feel a little something, even if it starts out badly, they should be proud of themselves when they outsmart him, out-think him, even when they don't win but they come close. He's a thorn in their side, not the sword that guts them before they have so much as a chance to say anything. And there's only so much fun that can be had toying with them before it feels like he's kicking a puppy for no reason.

He makes Roman cry once. He just stands there, staring at Janus, waiting for it to be over with tears streaming down his face. And when Janus stammers that yes, he's…he's done, Roman just leaves.

He doesn't want to just be the bad guy. He doesn't want them to think he doesn't care for them. He doesn't want them to be hurt, not…not in any way that actually matters.

He takes it on the chin, as he's seen them do, but it gets harder. Walking the line between fulfilling the role he's made for himself and actually being cruel is difficult, and tensions stretch further and further until one day, he can't do it and he has to retreat to his room and spend the rest of the day puzzling about how to fix this. He's never been the one to actually offer words of comfort. He's been there to lance infections from open wounds, not stitch them back together. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to believe anymore.

Roman comes to him first. Wraps him up in a hug and ignores all his babbling in favor of dragging him to their favorite picnic spot in the imagination. Everyone takes on a different role, just for that day, where Patton is the gardener that helps the baker, Logan, Roman and Remus are the woodcutters that build the cabins, Virgil is the blacksmith and Janus—Janus is the innkeeper. They spin a new story together, one where everyone gets a happy ending.

Stories end, after all, and new ones begin.

***

Remus wears shame like a badge of honor and the sweater he just can't manage to make himself throw away.

He delights in the uncomfortable, luxuriates in the madness, and happily dances along to the songs of the worst things you could ever imagine. His side of the Imagination is chaos and ruin, twisted undergrowth giving way to dark city scapes filled with ne'er-do-wells and the filth from stories that finally get their chance to steal the spotlight. He lovingly tends to his creatures that would send fainter hearts into shock, none more so than his beloved Kraken, Oliver. Shipwrecks litter the bottom of the Imagination's oceans and he couldn't be prouder.

For Remus, chaos is a way of life. He takes the things that normal people would scoff at—just as enthusiastically as he would scoff at them for being so boring—and makes it into art. He builds machines that are needlessly complicated and endlessly horrible. He turns perfect order into perfect disorder with a gleeful squeal. He's the bane of Logan and Roman's existences—one is affectionate, the other decidedly less so—and he steps into his bear traps with a grin on his face.

There are, of course, downsides. He's alone, a lot of the time. No one else really appreciates everything he does, all the hard work that goes into turning his world into the best it can be for him. Sure, they get close sometimes, like when there's an experiment and he and Logan get to go full mad-scientist, or when he and Janus are gleefully stirring all manner of shit up for everyone else, or when he and Roman throw literally everything they can at every sort of wall just to see what might stick. But when those times are over, and he's back to being the same old, messy Remus, he gets…lonely.

Especially when there's something that would make them think he's something else.

He's got a reputation. He's supposed to be dark, twisted, messy, chaotic, that sort of thing. He's annoying, the voices in your head that you just can't get to go away, the song that won't stop playing in your head at 2 in the morning when all you want to do is go to sleep.

He can't exactly expect them to believe him when he says the songs he wants to keep playing are something like…Taylor Swift.

He's got an image to maintain! And that image doesn't go well with, y'know…something like that. He's no stranger to other people's shame, but his own…well, he might get why people hate feeling it so much.

Roman, though, is his brother, and as such gets full rights to both tease him about things and find out whatever he wants to know. And Roman is his brother, which means that he loves him unconditionally. So maybe the two of them can sing along to Taylor Swift at 3 in the morning and if Roman takes the fall for being the one obsessed with her stuff, well, that's for them to know and Janus to find out when he figures out what Roman's lying about this time.

It's fine, they'll just make him listen to 'no body, no crime.' That song's right up his alley.

***

Roman is tired.

He's just…really tired.

Being the prince, being Thomas's Hopes and Dreams, his Creativity—well, half of it—trying to keep everything afloat…it's tiring.

The others don't know this—well, Remus might—but he's the main anchor point between Thomas and the Mindscape. They're all products of Thomas's imagination, which he uses his Creativity to make and interact with, which means that…them, the Mindscape, the Imagination, it's…well, he has to spend a lot of energy to keep it the way it is.

It's tiring.

So sometimes, he doesn't have it in him to play the role. Sometimes he can't focus on staying away long enough to do all the work they want him to do on top of all the stuff they don't know he's doing. And sometimes…sometimes it's just a little bit too much.

They find him on the floor of his room one night, just watching the moon. They gather blankets and pillows and stuffed animals and build a little nest, right there around him. Remus opens the door to the Imagination to lighten a little bit of the load and Logan helps Patton coax Thomas the rest of the way to sleep, letting them shift to the dreaming mind instead.

He's so tired. Surrounded by the others, with his mind at peace, he finally gets some rest.

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[1toreyouapart]

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

Part 5 - Noah

Noah laid there in his bed, the only light coming from the screen of his phone. The only sound in the room the old videos he kept watching. It was all that kept him going when sobriety got to be a little too difficult. And right now, it was hard as fuck. Until the other night nobody outside of his therapist had known just how much he despised himself for the shit he had put Lilith through in the end. And now he had gone and blurted it out like a fucking idiot. Such a fucking idiot. So, rather than relapse he was going to watch these old videos as many times as it took until the anxiety passed.

Listening to her laughter, seeing the way her eyes crinkled just a bit at the corners when she smiled, in and of itself was its own form of mental torture, but God, did it help keep the urge to drink away. A reminder of what life was like before the one or two drinks every so often turned into three or four most nights of the week. Then getting blackout drunk most nights of the week. Soon it was steady drinking from the moment he woke up until he passed out later that night. Rinse and repeat.

"Noah, I swear to all that is unholy. If you don't stop recording me right now I'm cutting your hair in your sleep!"

Noah chuckled to himself as Lilly in the video stopped doing her hair to run from him, laughing uncontrollably at his feeble attempt to stop her without dropping his phone. He had been obsessed with recording every moment with her when he wasn't on tour. Some excuse of watching them when he missed her, which he did do, but honestly it was because he just couldn't get enough of her. Even when they bickered he hated not being near her, always finding a reason just be around her while she tried to ignore his presence. Which she inevitably failed at, every time. Because as much as she refused to admit it at first, she needed to be near him just as much as he did her. Once upon a time, anyway.

Heaving a weary sigh he scrolled to the next video, immediately being greeted by her and Danny dressing up a skeleton Halloween decoration. Noah outright laughed as he watched the two of them dressing the skeleton up, neither understanding the directions the other was giving. It was their first Halloween in this house, and Lilly had insisted on going all out for the kids in the neighborhood. She'd had the bright idea of dressing skeletons up as Bring Me The Horizon members to put in the yard as a skeleton band.

Just then Matt walked in, flipping the light on, blinding him.

"Jesus Christ, Matt!" He yelled, covering his eyes. "The fuck do you want?"

"You've been hiding in here too long. Get your ass up and meet me downstairs in five."

"Fuck off."

"See you in five."

Matt left, leaving the door wide open. Fucking asshole. He loved Matt, he did, but he was a fucking asshole sometimes. Couldn't he just be left to rot in fucking peace?

"Fucking asshole," he grumbled, rolling out of bed. If he didn't get down there Matt would be back, likely with a bucket of water to dump on him or something stupid like that.

Noah caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he walked past it, and outwardly cringed. He looked like shit. Hair stuck up in every which way, four days worth of stubble on his face. Well, what little bit he could grow, anyway. He reached for the hoodie he'd flung on the back of his chair, pulling it over his head as he stomped out his bedroom door and to the stairs. This better be good.

***

"If you really want to make amends, hiding after having a panic attack in her kitchen isn't the way to do it."

Matt's words swam around in his head, circling over and over again. He was still an asshole, but he meant well. Of course, he was right. But how would he even go about making amends? Would she even be open to allowing him to? The way she had looked at him that night, he wasn't so sure. However, she had done everything she could in that moment to help him. Shit, it had worked better than anything anyone else did after he got home.

Carefully he leaned forward, inspecting his now shaven face. Couldn't miss any spots or it would drive him nuts. He had always been that way, but since getting sober he was more meticulous about it. Everything had to be just so or he couldn't function properly until it was fixed. Satisfied he had gotten everything he stood back up, pulling a plain white shirt over his head.

First order of business was to get cleaned up. Second was to at least attempt to get a hold of her. If she didn't answer he would just show up. Well, maybe not unannounced. That hadn't exactly gone well last time. A repeat sounded like an absolutely terrible idea if he was honest. One panic attack she might forgive, but a second one? Hardly. He was surprised she even answered her phone the last time.

Speaking of, he picked his phone up off the counter, freezing over her name. Was this a call or text situation? Maybe he should have asked one of the guys first. Jolly would probably be the one to know. He knew her best these days. Unfortunately, Jolly was out with Sadie.

Fuck it. He would text her, and if she didn't get back to him after a while then he would call. For all he knew she was at work, anyway. Heart pounding in his chest he hit the button to text her, freezing at the last message he had received from her. The night he had fucked everything up beyond repair.

"Where are you? Noah, you're worrying me."

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[icarusredwings]

Gonna have to reject your offer of He/ It cheif. Managment (Logan) would kill you for even inferring the idea.

Other people would come along and be like "What is that thing!??"

And you would just see Logan shift instantly from "Yeah ill give you a can of beans and a place to rest" to "Get the fuck off my property before you become his dinner" all while Wade is just... sitting there... behaving??

"He's not a THING! Thats my husband you asshole! And if you don't like it then fuck off!" Followed by Gabby going "Thats my papa you jerk!"

"It's just a zombie? You're married to a sombie!?"

"Again- HES my husband. I said till death do us part except death really isnt his thing so im stuck with him. You got a problem with that!?"

It makes Wade always very happy to be defended even though he surely could do it himself. For the most part things are pretty tame.

But he DOES clap a bit when logan mentions feeding him. 'Ooh yay, I get fed multiple times today' kind of way since Logan is very strict about resources, Wades is not allowed to just eat whatever because he'd probably just eat everything.

Sometimes if Logan forgets to feed him, He'll come to Logan and give him this specific whine, like a dog begging for bacon scraps only for Logan to feel terrible. "Oh my god Im sorry we were so busy today and- ... You're starving and you're not trying to bite me... you're trying so hard.. aw fuck wade.. im so sorry.. what am I going to do with you?"

"Mmm.... rawhrah?"

"Right. Feed you before you go insane. Got it."

Some days are like this. When he's clearly much more human. Being permitted cuddles and nuzzles, to play with gabby and to sleep in the bed. It's very rare that Logan lets him sleep in the bed. But it's the happiest day for wade when he is. And its not like they can even do anything (bro lost his dick miles ago and has no clue where the fuck it went but it just fell off somewhere and now hes a ken doll. This is great for those of you who like transfem wade COUGH COUGH)

But even if it didn't fall off its not like they could do anything anyway, They can't even kiss on the lips anymore. Logan has a theory that it's similar to rabies, where the infection has to be spread through saliva into an open cut or your mouth, etc.

So the nights he's allowed, they honestly just cuddle and stare at each other for a bit before sleeping. Usually, Wade is the little spoon because having Wade behind him is dangerous.

Wade heavily sees affection as a reward now, so getting to hug the girls is a massive thing for him, getting to sit there and watch gabby draw him is a big thing, hell Logan will sometimes even let Gabby play with wade out front because Wade has whole ass attacked other zombies whos tried to hurt gabby before.

One time Laura shot him in the head because gabby thought it would be a good idea to play "pretend zombie" and Wade didnt put two and two togerher that acting 'feral' as Logan calls it, outside with gabby would be a bad idea.

"What the fuck did you do that for!?"

"He was feral and going after gabs!!"

"Nu uh!! We were playing and you killed him for no reason! Youre so mean!"

Logan just sighs as gabby runs to her bed because it upsets her greatly when they have to 'keep wade in check' she fully understands that hes dangerous but deep down thats still her papa and watching your big sissy kill your papa is not something most 13 year olds would enjoy.

".. L.. you gotta stop wasting ammo. You know if it was really a code red that wouldn't do anything anyway. You have to decapitate him if you even want a flying chance. See?? Hes already up again... hi sweetie..."

Wade, whos sat up and now giving them a confused look of 'what did I do? 🥺'

"...arr Arawh"

"Im sorry, wade.." Laura squeaks out, still holding the shot gun. Shes just terrified of loosing gabby is all. To her, gabs is her responsibility.

"Rah awr rahrrr..."

"I know. She's sorry. She's just.. scared. No more playing that okay?"

"Mmh..😔"

There is infact some drift between laura and wade but neither of them mean it. Really they dont. If gabs is put of the picture Laura still smiles and talks to him but its like the moment gabby is near him Laura goes full protection mode and over reacts.

And FOR THE RECORD i have never seen the walking dead but its terrifying how accurate that picture is.

The longest Wade has been unconscious is probably 18 hours but this was before getting to the girls.

They have witnessed the exact thing you're saying, though. With Wade tied down in the shed, on his leash, and handcuffed, trying to talk to him, yelling at him to snap out of it because he's scaring the girls. Something different about feral wade from the other zombies though is it seems he's smarter, knawing on his handcuffs while most will just flail their arms helplessly. While his teeth dont do shit to the cuffs, its scary for Logan because it makes him think that one day he might actually have to find a way to kill him permanently.

He can undo locks, open cans, do many things that the others cant and he wants to believe its just Wades human part being stronger because in some weird way hes half mutant human and half zombie. A weird combo that makes him much different.

Laura, unlike gabby, too is terrified of one day wade going feral while their father is out collecting more supplies or hunting and she wont know what to do.

Wade isnt fast though. Thats the ONLY good thing. Hes smart, cant die, and is starving to death all the time. But hes slow. Infact he dosn't heal properly. His leg is half broken still from the last time it fell off and seems to barely be receptive to his brains nerves telling it to move so he lowkey drags it, only being able to use it to stand up right and take very small steps.

When he DOES finally come back hours later, He cries. Apologizes, begs for forgiveness, and most times is actually SCARED of Logan. While he hates it emotionally, he knows that logically it was a good thing for Wade to flinch away from him after being locked up.

A scared and fed zombie is a well-behaved zombie...

And before anyone comes here to say this is dehumanization of what ever else- HES LITERALLY NOT HUMAN ANYMORE.

Case closed. Besides I think wade would worry more about the fact of him trying to kill his kids then the fact hes leashed to a wall.

I dont CARE that it's November 9th and "Halloweens over" ITS MY BIRTHDAY MONTH ILL POST IF I WANT TOO

Anyway.

Thinking about apocolpse au.

Wade getting bitten by a zombie, Logan freaking out, Wade dying, and him coming back (Again)

"Didn't you just die?? I literally fucking burried you!!"

And wades like:

"Of course. Man, God REALLY hates you dosn't he?"

And he's bassically the same person except just saying, "Rahhah har ran re" (translation: I think the devil doesn't want me either)

"What?? Oh for fucks sake... tell me you're kidding.."

"Rah?" 🤔

"Great so now you stink more and you can't talk. Fucking lovely."

"Mmmmh..." 🥺 (would you still love me if I was a zombie?)

"*sighs, blushes and grumbles how insane this is and how much of a bad idea this is* Fine! Come on...."

"Raah!!" 😄

And sometimes his limbs fall off because I think it would be funny if you just saw him stop, turn around, pick up his arm and shove it back into place like a dislocated shoulder. (Marvel Magic)

But its very obvious that Wade is still consious and so logan leads him around, puts a leash on him, ties him up when he goes to sleep the first few nights so wade dosn't eat him, sometimes luring him with a piece of his thigh or telling him he'll feed him soon to make him behave.

The only thing about this resource wise is that it seems Wade is a bottomless pit, not ever able to get enough. It's like all the nutrients just pass right through him, so he can't get fed meals daily, but Logan will share at least one bite of his food. It makes Wade so happy and way more "wade like" than zombie.

Logan has learned that the hungrier Wade gets the worse it would be, snapping at logan a few times.

"Grr-"

"Aye! That's enough outta ya"

"GggRah!"

"Hey!! I said no! Bad! Bad wade!"

"Mmmh??"

"Bad!!"

"Mmh....rahah.."

"I forgive you. But stop trying to bite me. I feed you, don't I? I hold your hand and tell you that I love you?"

Wade is actually extremely friendly for a zombie (duh) and still yaps at logan except its nonsense. Logan tries hard to understand him and talk back.

He holds his hand sometimes, even lays next to him only to scold him if he gets too bitey. This is hard because wade already had a biting issue and seeing as he practically ate anything or anybody now it was more difficult.

"...aahh-"

"Wade- No."

"Ggr.. raahh"

"Wade! No! Bad."

"Mmmh..."

"Ill feed you tomarrow. Don't bite me mkay? You wanna hurt me?"

He shakes his head like a dog shaking off from a bath, or that ate a bee.

"Then don't bite me."

"Mmh? Mrah?"

"No. No kisses right now. Im still not even sure if thats safe.."

"Mmmh...🥺 ahrrah?"

"No, not even a tiny one."

"Mm...😔"

Until Logan grunts and pecks his hand. "There. Happy?"

"🙂‍↕️mh"

"Good."

Honestly Logan felt bad, pitited him. No matter what food he ate it wasnt enough substance to sustain him and sometimes Logan would wake up to find him eating a different zombie that made the mistake of trying to eat Logan.

You ever wake up in the morning, lose your zombie boyfriend, call for him only to walk outside and see him knawing on some poor chaps arm like a happy puppy who found a chicken leg? Logan has. Many times. And he wishes his phone would charge so he could take a picture of it but unfortunately theres no electricity in the post apocalypse world.

This being said Logan is like- THE perfect guy for apocalypse au because he can smell everything and hear anyone before they even get to you, he has better wilderness survival skills then anyone I know and he'll never NOT have a weapon on him because of his claws. The only downside is that he's tired easily, needs a lot of food, and would lowkey be withdrawing from his tabccao and alchool, therefore very moody.

"Stupid fucking apocalypse having to happen when im fucking alive!! Why can't I just NOT live through ONE major historical event! Is that too fucking much to ask? One damn decade where everything is fine and dandy and- WADE! Get your ass away from that!! It's radioactive!! For fucks sake!"

"Rahahrah?"

"NO!! You can not become Spiderman! That's not how that works!"

"Aawr..😔"

The whole thing is they're on a quest to find Laura and Gabby, because when everything went to shit, they were on a cabin trip and now Logans brain is itching because he dosn't know where his babies are and its driving him insane. Once he finds them, they're gonna shack up somewhere with food and animals to hunt, and hes gonna make a little shed outside for Wade to sleep because he'll kill him if he bites one of the girls.

He dosnt care that much about himself really and he hates himself deep down for not being able to trust wade anymore but even wade dosnt trust wade, sometimes wandering off on purpose, staying about 30 feet away from him at all times, growling and giving Logan that glazed over look of unconsiousness. The only good thing about this, though, is after he removes himself from the idea of hurting Logan (because if logaj were to become infected - HA! Your all fucked. Utterly fucked. The whole humanoid species would go extinct because he'd kill anything that moved) he feels more trusting of him and it's not uncommon for them to hug after either. Afterall Wade- Some how???- is still wade and is very affectionate and sensitive when its not returned.

This whole thing also makes him think worse about himself, kicking reflective objects or staring at himself in a shop window in utter shock and disgust with a face of 'thats me..?' While logans raiding the place for supplies.

Did you know zombies can cry? Well, Wade could. Not a lot, only able to get a bit of liquid from dehydration, but sometimes Logan will catch him just... sitting there.. crying. Upset with himself for being bit. Upset with himself for trying to bite logan all the time. Upset at how ugly he is. Upset that he's starving all the time. Upset that he can't even talk to anyone, and Logan just has to guess what he's saying 90% of the time. Bro is literally

When they DO find Laura and Gabby, the girls are doing great. Laura was going to blow wades head off until Gabby ran in the shot, hugging him instantly, only to be ripped away.

"Of course my dad is the weirdo married to a zombie." Laura grunts, but is secrelty happy that wade is still 'alive'

Gabby, being as young as she is, thinks it's so SICK that her dad is a zombie now, giggling when he talks to her and holding his hand. She's not allowed near him for long, and not at all by herself, but Gabby bassically becomes Wades number one supporter, defending him when he messes up and snaps at laura.

"He's just hungry!! He's not bad! It's not bad to be hungry!" She'll say. "You wouldn't kill me if I was hungry.." she tells her bigger, more survival oriented sister whos suggested putting wade out of his misery, for his own sake. "I tried that... he found me again 3 days later." Logan tells her with a pang in his chest. It had taken everything in him to kill him the first time, and sobbed himself to sleep the next 2 days. By the third when he noticed Wade following him from a distance he couldn't believe it.

Not even the apocalypse could keep them away from each other..

[yousaytomato]

Lads you'll never guess what. Anxious Again.

[icewindandboringhorror]

... why he sit like this

[heartshattering]

5 AM

Just me and my overactive mind facing the nighttime again 🙃

[anthromimicry]

okay, but i think it is about time to talk about one of misao's fears is, because i believe that they can tell you a lot about a character and their psyche — and i came to tell y'all that the one i'm going to be talking about today is that misao fears becoming a mother / motherhood. the first reason in which why i believe this is because misao just genuinely thinks that she is not the nurturing type and that she would likely be a terrible parent to her child ( which i know is a very depressing thing to think about. but it is something that she has feared for a long time, unfortunately. ) this likely stems from a mix of misao's inability to deal with her own emotions, though, as she feels like it's better to just bottle them up and deal with them all on her own rather than the alternative. and this would be to try to confide in someone and/or get help from them should she need it. so, misao feels as if her child were to come to her needing emotional support from her, she would absolutely fail at it and the last thing she wants is to emotionally neglect someone the way she had been as a child ( p.s. of course, this was mostly just borne out of unfortunate circumstances, as i've stated before because of kaiyah's illness. though this hasn't stopped misao from feeling the brunt of the impact that it had on her. )

plus... i feel as if misao also doesn't have a lot of confidence in herself whenever it comes to the concept of always being able to put a child first, as she has a pretty negative self-image of herself deep down if i'm being honest. she sees herself as an extremely selfish person who can't even become friends with one person because she is so afraid that someone will hurt her, and in her opinion, that makes her pathetic or weak. so she doesn't feel like she'd be able to take care of a child with the amount of responsibility that is required to in order to raise them properly and protect them at the same time.

though this isn't necessarily true as misao has put up those barriers that would normally let people into her heart mostly due to trauma, and having experienced trauma doesn't make anyone weak. i just feel as if she desperately needs to remedy her self-image because it is very damaging to think of yourself like that and it would be really good for her emotional health if she were to try to ways to better cope with everything that she's experienced throughout her life. there are other reasons as well behind why misao fears motherhood while i'm talking about it, however, and these are arguably one of the more bigger ones: the act of giving birth itself and suddenly being thrust into having to not just take care of yourself, but the baby inside of you as well. which sort of makes sense whenever you connect the dots as to how many horror stories misao has heard about delivering a baby and also how much a person's experience while being pregnant can vary from others. i mean, it has been shown that some people may have more morning sickness than others and that they just don't have a very good experience with being pregnant in general, for example. but other's may be 'glowing' as they say and may find it easier to deal with.

so, you never really know what kind of pregnancy you're going to have until you actually become 'with child' as misao would call it. and the unknown aspect surrounding it scares misao more than anything. plus, as it stands now, she isn't sure whether she'd want to go through the process of giving birth as there can be a lot of complications regarding it. but there can also be so many good things about inviting a new member of the family into your home and misao feels as if it is kind of expected of her to have children so she can continue the kanade line.

but misao is just so afraid of it for these reasons that she can not see herself as a mother, even in her head. however... there is the matter of adoption that she has yet to take into account, but with how focused the jorōgumo are about having biological children, i feel as if misao hasn't even considered it to be an option for those who are afraid of giving birth and also to give a baby / child a loving home as everyone deserves one of those. but yeah. i hope that this gave y'all a little more insight into her character, as misao is scared of re-enacting her past in a way, though i feel as if you become a mother yourself... you have to separate what will be your own experience of parenthood from your parents. so, in order to overcome this fear she has, misao would have to treat it as an entirely different thing from kaiyah's experience as a mother and her own child self's experience of her as a mother.

and this is definitely possible. it would just take some work, as overcoming any kind of fear would. plus, i feel as if misao were to accept other people's help it would also benefit her, since discussing motherhood / plunging into the topic of the sometimes seemingly scary thing that is parenthood is definitely not something that you have to try to go through alone.

[laurelindebear]

Why don't I know anything??

I just don't know enough, do I. I keep trying to write about things I just don't know or understand and it's ridiculous. I'll never be able to research and learn enough and still finish anything. If I'm actually going to do this, it has to be something I have some expertise in, which would be a lot easier if I weren't a goddamned flighty dilettante who can't commit. I'd have that damn PhD I always wanted if I could, wouldn't I?

I mean I can write about depression and anxiety and religious trauma and self-loathing but I don't even wanna read that, let alone write a story about it. I know shockingly little about the place where I live and I'm not sure I care enough to learn. If I ever knew anything about the place I grew up, that place is gone now. (Chrissie Hynde would know what I mean, I guess, except at this rate I'll never go back....)

I was actually writing a little again for the first time in weeks and now one stupid little metaphor comparison has tanked me. (Well, and a fresh reminder that anything I can do, someone else can do better.)

Fuckity.

[aeide-thea]

lol just found out the former owner of this property has been surveilling all our mail via usps's informed delivery service, to which he still has access because he never bothered to file a change of address with them even though it's been literal years at this point, and so now i get to put 'calling the post office to get him kicked off because what the actual fuck' on my to-do list for the day!

also: i found this out because he emailed my dad an image of a piece of mail he wants us (me) to forward to him. flames on the side of my face.

[running-in-the-dark]

I'm starting to really feel like I might have to like. stop being online. in any form. but especially on social media.

I already don't read the news anymore because it made me too anxious. but social media is basically like the news except worse. at least with the news you know that you're mostly gonna get bad things. on tumblr/reddit/wherever it's a pleasant stream of fun/interesting/entertaining posts and then bam here's some really bad shit that's going to ruin the world as we know it and we're all fucked and there's nothing you can do about it! and right below it is the next cute cat picture or a cool drawing or a silly text post and you just keep scrolling

[mayonakano-archive]

i'm going to delete this later but i need to just. yell.

[icewindandboringhorror]

feeling sick constantly in the background all the time is like.. usually negligible-ish.. until multiple various chronic background issues all happen to overlap at once and then it’s like 

[bowsers-sweaty-asshole]

.