#can you guys tell I love Sylvia

[rosetheocto]

I was wondering what your thoughts on each of the Eeveelution Squad’s parents/relatives were? What do you think of each of them?

TYSM FOR THIS ASK!!

If there’s one thing ES definitely did right imo, it’s the parents for each of the Squad members. I love them a lot and ngl I wish we got more content centered around them!! They’re all pretty interesting! Special 12B may have sucked as a Series Finale, but I gotta give it credit for giving more life to the parent characters. They each have a lot of headcanon potential too!! (which helped fuel my love for them)

a lot of this is kinda headcanonish but I don’t really care lmaoo

Mollie + Jin (ft. Ralph)

MOLLIE ILY!! The circumstances that led to her and Ralph meeting Jin were so tragic, but seeing the three of them learning to survive after the Coastal Eevee Massacre was interesting to look at, even if it was brief! Like Jin being a Forest Eevee who was probably raised to hate Coastals because of their Classic Transformation, and yet he was able to break free from that prejudice on his own and rebelled from his tribe by saving Ralph and Mollie instead of killing them. Ralph not liking Jin at first is a bit more understandable than Lazuli with Speed, his family did try to kill him and his sister after all (and murdered nearly their whole tribe), but I’m glad he quickly learned to be grateful to Jin for helping them out! If only they were able to survive that wild attack…

I also love how Mollie was able to get back on (most of) her feet after the attack, being able to find a family in Rin, Bolt, and their relatives!! Mollie’s gone through so much and deserved better, and I’m so glad she was able to get some of that closure when reuniting with the triplets!!

Blaze + Brian

AUUUGHHH I LOVE THESE TWO!! Brian’s jokes mixed with Blaze’s exasperation makes for some pretty fun interactions between them! Their relationship is definitely one of the healthiest in the comic and it’s clear that they love each other and their family!! This scene of them especially lives rent free in my head. They’re so good, it makes sense that they’re fan favorites!! I have no other way to talk about it other than just keysmashing for a paragraph >w<

Sadie + Alexander

They aren’t really as focused on as the others, but there’s still some small bits of info that make me curious about their time before the berserker attack!! It’s said that they’re kinda speedrunning their life together, getting married at 18 and having their first child only a year later! Maybe they kinda rushed getting into a relationship in the first place? I wish we got a bit more spotlight on them before their death, there’s a lot I wanna know!!

Lapis + Alfred

LAPIS AND ALFRED SAVE ME… At first I HATED Alfred, same as everyone else did, but after finding out what happened to him after Lapis died and his thought process when kicking his daughters out I began to like him a lot more. He has flaws and has done horrible things, but he genuinely regrets them and wants to change for the better! His relationship with Lapis, as little as we saw of it, is something I really like!! One thing I find interesting with them is that unlike the others, they had their children’s surnames be different from their last names, the explanation EV gave being that they both wanted their family to start completely fresh.

Considering how Alfred’s personality is like, I wouldn’t be surprised if his parents were more strict/abusive with him, and I imagine this is something he gets closer with Lapis over. Pretty much everything about her is a mystery other than her cooking for Alfred and his team and wishing for her daughters to evolve into a Vaporeon/Leafeon, but I imagine that she grew up in a similar household to the Arcanine. Also it kinda implies that the strictness/abuse they tried to get away from repeated with their daughters (ESPECIALLY Lazuli)

Sylvia + Franklin

I WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT SYLVIA SO BADLY YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!! Her and Frank’s whole relationship is so peculiar to me! Especially with Frank’s feelings towards her being a Ditto! I like to imagine her and Frank never really got into a romantic relationship, and that Silvia and Gai came from a one night fling which led to her having their eggs. The exhaustion from that combined with her using energy to actively hold the Espeon form caused her to slip up and reveal her Ditto form to Frank… which kinda spooked him a bit and caused him to not even mention Sylvia’s existence to his kids but yea lmaoo

The two seem to still be fine enough to not cause any conflict when Sylvia meets her children for the first time, so I don’t think it really anything other than give Frank a nightmare or two. I imagine even if she was able to hold the Espeon form forever they wouldn’t have been in a relationship anyway. I don’t really see Frank getting into a relationship with anyone, and I headcanon Sylvia to have been a Wild (which aren’t really accepted in Sunny Town). I also just love Frank’s whole demeanor (especially when paired with someone like Brain), shoutouts to him!! Also shoutouts to Sylvia for technically being one of the few/only trans characters in ES!!

Ditto as Pokemon are a weird case of being assigned genderless/agender at birth, and since Sylvia doesn’t identify with those terms, and she physically and literally transitions in the way of being a female Espeon, she’s technically trans!! also I love her eyes they’re so pretty!!

Rin + Bolt

honestly, I don’t really care for these two as much as the other couples, but I still like them!! I like to think they both bonded over being Shiny in a world where they’re canonically discriminated against, or at least looked down upon enough to warrant bullying! I also like their dynamic with the rest of the squad and their families! Also shoutouts to them for being willing to save a wild Flareon who could’ve been a threat for all they knew, taking her all the way from the outskirts of Sunny Town to Terra Town!! I believe they were also rescuers, which is a neat detail!

[babydollitzel]

hiiii I love your works and I was wondering if you can do dating hcs for soda and dally? You don’t have too tho 🫶🫶🫶

𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐜’𝐬

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Dallas Winston x Fem!reader

warnings/extra; just mention of leaving hickeys and smacking your bum

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ tysm I really appreciate it💕 and btw the Soda hc’s are next

∞༺♡༻∞༺♡༻∞༺♡༻∞༺♡༻∞

𐙚 he won’t give you his skull ring until he’s sure that you two would last because he lowkey has trust issues from Sylvia

𐙚 though you always reassure him that you’d never cheat on him and that you’re not like her

𐙚 For pet names I feel like he’d call you doll. Sometimes he’d call you “man” like he does to most people but you’re not so fond of it

𐙚 When he talks about you, not to shit talk but to probably brag about you, he’ll refer to you as his ‘broad’ or just by your name

𐙚 He lets you wear his jacket but most of the time you steal it

𐙚 When you guys are walking he puts his hand on your back pocket

𐙚 Also smacks your butt really hard and laughs when you squeal

𐙚 He steals stuff for you, and even though you tell him not to he does it anyway

𐙚 Much to your dismay he sneaks in through your window in the middle of the night while you’re sleeping

𐙚 At first the gang wasn’t sure about you because they were wary that you were like Sylvia but they eventually warmed up to you

𐙚 Randomly tugs your hair just to irritate you. He can be really annoying🫤

𐙚 Related to that, he like annoying you or making you mad because that little sht thinks it’s funny

𐙚 Likes to flick your forehead unnecessarily hard too like what

𐙚 Sometimes he’ll blow his cig smoke in your face and laugh when you scrunch your face. If you tell him to stop then he probably stop or say some sht like “make me”

𐙚 He doesn’t really say that he loves you because ‘It would be a miracle if Dally loved anything’🤓 and because he doesn’t want to admit it but he does show you that he loves you

𐙚 You always clean him up after a rumble while scolding him, as to which he acts like he doesn’t care but he does feel bad about making you worry

𐙚 When he kisses you it’s as if the dude’s trying to eat your face

𐙚 He’s also really protective, does not like it when he catches other guys checking you out.

𐙚 He either starts getting touchy in front of the guy or says something like “tf you looking at🤨”

𐙚 He loves leaving hickeys everywhere, especially where other people can see. He likes showing off that you’re his only

𐙚 He brags about you a lot and likes to show you off

𐙚 You hate when Dallas gets into jail and hate when you’re the one who has to bail him out. He also hates seeing your distraught face whenever you see him in his cell or in handcuffs

𐙚 Dallas is the typa guy to say, “Where my hug at?” or cover your eyes and say “Guess who?” like pls stop💕

𐙚 You guys bicker a lot because you’re both kinda petty but you always make up in the end

𐙚 He drives you around town and he purposely drives terribly just to spook you but he still keeps a hand GRIPPING your thigh

𐙚 He likes taking you to the drive in, sometimes yall don’t even watch the move. You spend the whole time eating popcorn and chit chatting or just making out at the back of the drive in

𐙚 When he’s drunk he gets really touchy

𐙚 please come back we miss you Dally🙏🏻

[candyfsh]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . dating hcs <3

by candyfsh

including; dallas winston, melvin moody, richie white (those are my favs)

——————————————————————————

dallas winston ౨ৎ

𖦹 ik everybody says that dally would be suuuper toxic and a rlly bad boyfriend,, but hear me out. he would literally hate everyone but you.

𖦹 he buys you things and steals you things, about 50/50

𖦹 he isn't one for cuddling or anything but he'll definitely play with your hair and hold your head gently if you're snuggled beside him or on his chest💔

𖦹 he isn't huge on pda,, but he always keeps an arm around you or kisses your face and head and lips constantly

𖦹 he also uses extra pda at parties. just letting everyone know you're dating him 😊😊

𖦹 he will NOT ever let you put makeup on him, but he does let you put chapstick on for him. he likes how gentle you are even if it's just chapstick 😓

𖦹 always brags about you

𖦹 "yeah man that's cool but my gf is soooo hot 😝"

𖦹 he likes to go over to your house whenever he can because you make him feel safe

𖦹 he won't admit that though. never.

𖦹 but it's also lowk obvious?? bc he's always hanging around you and making sure you're close to him

𖦹 im being so fr he thought he wouldn't trust or love anyone again after sylvia then BOOM he met you and he's like OMG.

melvin moody ౨ৎ

𖦹 he loves you and makes it known omg

𖦹 like ofc he cares about his reputation?? he js loves you sooooo much and whenever he sees you he's like woah that's my gf!!!

𖦹 when you're sitting next to each other literally anywhere, he has to be touching you just to like confirm you're there or something???

𖦹 he's holding your hand, his arm is around your shoulder, his hand is in your lap, your head is on his shoulder, he's playing with your hair, his arm is around your waist, whateves!!! he just loves touching you

𖦹 he's still a tough guy ofc,,, but in school, it's kinda like lowkey slowed down

𖦹 but he'll still punch someone if they made you uncomfortable whatsoever

𖦹 i personally think moody would be big on cuddling 😙

𖦹 he loves to spoon you omg!!!

𖦹 moody feels like he can truly be himself around you (including letting his hair not be greased up. you love to see his hair ungreased)

𖦹 he gets you gifts sometimes with the money he's gotten from kids but he refuses to EVER tell you where he got the money

𖦹 PET NAMES PET NAMES PET NAMES!!! 💗💗💗

𖦹 "baby" "sweetie" "hottie" "cutie" everything.

𖦹 you and moody are literally so in love and so adorable and all his friends tease him about being so whipped but he's all like "damn right i am"

richie white ౨ৎ

𖦹 this little baby is so cute and loves you sm

𖦹 my personal hc is that richie has never had a gf,, he just flirts with every girl he sees

𖦹 so you're basically each other's first everything in a relationship. it's really sweet💔.

𖦹 he alwaayyyss brags to you about a new crime he committed. especially the time he broke into a bike shop.

𖦹 whenever some girl flirts with him in the rec center he's all like "yeah yeahh i got a beautiful girl i ain't interested"

𖦹 AND YES HE REFERS TO YOU AS HIS BEAUTIFUL GIRL ALWAYS 😖😖

𖦹 "ysee my beautiful girl over there??" "she's my beautiful girl" "i got the most beautiful girl ever"

𖦹 bc this is his first relationship that's more than just kissing and flirting, he wants to prove himself to you that he's more than a juvenile delinquent

𖦹 (but he'll never stop being one)

𖦹 he doesn't know what to do for dates so he takes you to the rec or a walk around town or his lil spot with carl

𖦹 speaking of carl, he's sooooo sick of hearing about you

𖦹 y/n this y/n that,,, my man richie just loves you!!!

𖦹 btw he calls you the dumbest pet names in public to tease you, like sugarplum and honeybee

𖦹 he will never get over the fact that YOU chose HIM of all people. like he's confident in himself,, he's just like "omg she's so perfect why is she with me"

𖦹 that's why he makes sure to never take you for granted

𖦹 if richie has his hands anywhere on you, his hand is probably in your back pocket. not like in a perverted way or anything,, he just likes it there 😙😙

𖦹 his arms are almost always around your shoulders too

𖦹 he's very touchy

𖦹 you + richie = forever

[m4y4wasnthere]

dallas winston dating hcs!

warnings: a bit suggestive; almost sa? encounter; drinking/smoking mention

a/n: this is my first time doing this lolz, im so srry if its bad!! 🤞🤞

took a long time for him to open up to you, especially after his trust being broken by sylvia

treated you like every other girl; dirty pick up lines, teasing; until he realized you were different and you guys got way closer

first time he opened up was about why he moved from New York to Tulsa. needed to escape from from the emptiness of his own household.

You cried as he told the story, which made him realize how much you actually cared for him. how much he hated to see you cry.

“dal, i’m so sorry. i had no clue you went through- just- all of that.” you wiped your face for the 5th time in 1 hour. your eyes were glazed with gloss as you made eye contact with him.

he looked at you, his heart sinking at how you looked. red eyes, tear-streamed face. he hated seeing you all torn up, it made him stop his pacing on your carpet floors. shes crying, not because of me..but because of what I went through. she cares. he would never cry infront of you, but this time his eyes started to ear up too.

he sat down on the bed next to you, and slowly pulled you in for a hug. you hugged him tight, whispering sweet nothings.

“dal im so sorry”...”you didnt deserve any of that”… “you’re amazing for getting through all of that.”

silence filled the room after a shortwhile, interrupted sometimes by your short sniffs.

his arm was caressing your side, and you felt his breath hitch.

“i-… i love you.” he whispered, his heartbeat quickening with each second of silence passing.

you tilted your head up to his and stared into his beautiful eyes. he struggled keeping his eyes against yours, awaiting your response. he was ready to get up and run, expecting a rejection.

“I love you too Dallas” your voice was clear, contrasting your sweaty palms and your tear stricken face.

Both of you stared into each other eyes in comfortable silence.

he’s never said i love you again after that, he does show it, most he would do is say “you too”

he’s 50/50 with PDA, it depends on who you guys are with, where you guys are at, etc.

he 100% gets super jealous + overprotective of you really easily, if a guy doesn’t leave you alone , he will end up in a fight (you’ll end up scolding him for it)

A soc walked up behind you and touched your waist, “I never knew a greaser could be such a broad..”

You turned around and gently took his hand off of you, “Don’t touch me.” You thought of other things to say, but anything too violent would have you getting jumped.

“Aw c’mon, it was a compliment. You should be grateful.” His voice thickens and he grabs your waist again with more force. Dallas starts walking over to you.

“I don’t feel comfy with a gross Soc touching me!” You struggle pushing his hands off, Dallas ends up right behind you. His arms loosely wrap around your neck, “Is this guy bothering you, doll?” He kisses your cheek, not breaking eye contact with the Soc.

“Oh I see. You’re Dallas Winston’s little slut. Y’know what, I didn’t want to sleep with you anyways” before he was able to walk off, Dallas punched him in the face. Buck had to break up the fight and he ended up limping back to his mustang.

Dallas doesn’t like you smoking often because he knows its bad, despite him going through packs like candy. Once every blue moon you guys would smoke together in his room.

You get drunk easily, and when you’re drunk, you can’t shut up. Dallas had to drag you upstairs to his room so you would stop telling everyone you were horny or you had to pee.

• more suggestive ones •

you guys do it ALOT. quickies are his thing and he doesn’t care where you guys are

he’s a brat tamer. if you don’t act right, he’s dragging you back home and making sure your ass hurts.

lots of choking, pinning you down, tugging at your hair

his favorite positions are doggy style and missionary because he can ‘control’ you way easier. he does like seeing you ride him but sometimes he wishes he could control the pace better, and ends up going into missionary again

he loves overstimulating you, can’t get enough of you moaning his name (ego booster)

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Misogyny in the fandom: let's talk about it

Not gonna lie, the level of interalized or even just blatant misogyny in this fandom is really disheartening sometimes. There is already VERY few female characters in the book, even fewer with speaking roles, and yet I see all of them being hated on in some way. People hate on Cherry for standing up for herself when Dally was harrasing her, and for not seeing Johnny in the hospital, which bullshit to begin with but also, you can't tell me that if the roles were reversed and Cherry sat down behind Dallas and starting talking about how stupid and classless greaser boys are, and Dally threw a coke at her, that the fandom wouldn't love him all the more for it. People hold her to this impossible golden standard, expecting her to literally be perfect instead of a conflicted and grieving teenage girl, when they embrace the flaws and give a lot more grace to much more violent and 'bad' male characters. It's a very 'boys will be boys' and 'girls mature fatser so they should know better' double standard that I really can't stand. Marcia gets a level of the same treatment, with people occasionally calling her vapid or shallow when the book makes it clear she and Two-bit actually really hit it off, and the number she gave him being fake was only Two and Ponyboy's speculation. But I digress. Moving on.

Misogyny and classism intersect when it comes to the few female greaser characters we get a little insight on. So many people LOATHE both Sandy and Sylvia because they're cheaters, but honestly, how is cheating worse than stealing? (And don't pretend they steal because they need to survive Ponyboy makes a point of claiming Two-bit doesn't really need or want half the stuff he shoplifts) How is it worse than jumping little kids? How is it worse than sexually harassing girls? How is it worse than the plethora of immoral or illegal activities the greaser guys partake in? If we're being 100% honest, it isn't. "But-but Sandy cheated on Soda, who really loved her". Yeah, she did. That was shitty of her, I'm not defending that, but she was also a sixteen year old girl in a tough situation she was trying to navigate the best she could. She could have lied and told Soda it was his and trapped him in a marriage raising a kid he definitely couldn't afford if she wanted to- but she didn't. Hell, she told him the truth and he was still ready to do that and she wouldn't let him. I don't think those are the actions of a completely terrible person, I think they're the actions of a scared kid who did some shitty things, but is trying her best and trying to do better. At the VERY least they're the actions of a multifaceted character who deserves the same level of grace and insight afforded to the male characters. (If anyone wants to read more of my thoughts on Sandy and her narrative importance, I have a post here). There's also something to be said about the poor 'greasy' girls facing harsher vitriol than the soc girls, and while part of it is because of Ponyboy's biased narration, it's clear to see that readers very much took his views at face value. Soc girls are 'good girls' and have to be perfect to deserve credit from the fans, but greasy girls are 'trashy' so it's ok for them to be judged and shit on. Spoiler alert: it isn't.

Sylvia is similar to Sandy in that her cheating and 'loose' behaviour earn her a lot of hate, which again, I'm not defending her cheating, but we need to give her the same analysis and benefit of the doubt given to Dally. Dally is NOT a good person. Ponyboy says this and makes it clear plenty of times. He's a hurt character, so we can explien why he is the way he is, but he isn't a GOOD character. he values loyalty, so he never cheated on Sylvia, but it's clear based on how he treats Cherry and casual comments he makes that he doesn't really respect women. I can't imagine Sylvia's experience dating him was one where she felt very adored. Again, not an excuse for cheating, but I can understand WHY she'd try and take back power within a dynamic and a society where she never had any, and I don't want to vilify her for that. She's also a poor woman growing up in the sixties- the book makes it clear life is hard enough for poor guys griowing up at that time, but it was probably equally if not more hard for poor women. I think, like the gang, she does what she had to to survive. If you can understand why the gang does bad things, and still be humans who can be considered good, you can extend the same understanding to Sylvia (and Sandy.) I think people need to also keep in mind that everything we know ABOUT Sylvia (and the rest of the female characters) we know from Ponyboy, a fourteen year old boy who's narration is INCREDIBLY biased and who doesn't have the full details of any of the relationships in the gang. Ponyboy sees Sylvia and Sandy as these terrible, loose women who have hurt people he cares about, so a lot of the fandom does too, but it doesn't change the fact that by doing so you're accepting and embracing Ponyboy's internalized misogyny and making it your own.

Anyway, I don't think I'm articulating this as well as i want to, and i spoke a bit more about this in this reply to one of the posts on the confessions page, but yeah, I just wish people could accept that fact that if they bend over backward to find ways to defend or explain immoral actions from male characters, but refuse to even attempt to do the same for female characters, they've probably internalized a bit of misogyny they should maybe work on.

[undeadoracle]

Would love to hear your thoughts on Emmrich being autistic if you don’t mind sharing? I hadn’t really considered it myself but I’m curious

Sure! to be fair, emmrich being older means he’s had a lot of time to grow into himself, develop confidence, and cultivate his personality traits in ways that work for him in his environment. But here’s a few things that stuck out to me as rather neurodivergent of him:

-he’s typically very tidy and organized. we see that he keeps inventory of what he brings to the lighthouse, and does not like things messy, even though he as a LOT of stuff; Sylvia Feketekuty herself described him as “fastidious.” he gets upset about assan coming into his space, getting into things and making messes, he doesn’t want taash to use his bone tools, says he’s glad he doesn’t share an office with neve because she leaves paperwork everywhere, etc.

-deliberately precise use of language that he considers a point of pride. He tells rook, “I always choose my words carefully,” and we see that to be true in the way he speaks to others, as well. Autistic folks often use language very meticulously because they want to be specific, and to avoid being misunderstood.

-he sometimes (perhaps even often) gets distracted at inappropriate times by things that are relevant to his interests and has to be guided back on track by rook/other members of the party.

- he’s is an extremely polite & courteous person, of course, but that’s not the same as being socially intuitive. In fact, autistic people often gravitate to being extremely polite because social conventions are rules that can be followed in order to ensure a Correct Social Interaction; they don’t require interpreting nuanced cues or reading between the lines. Emmrich often does not immediately pick up on the other companions teasing/poking fun at him; it takes a few exchanges back and forth for him to catch on, if he does at all. It’s not because he’s dumb or naive, he obviously isn’t, he just is inclined to take people at face value in a way that’s common for folks on the spectrum. See also: him getting tricked by the guy selling fake charms in tevinter. Even when he gets revenge for that, it’s less about being embarrassed on his own behalf and more a righteous indignation that someone would lie about something like that, it’s dangerous don’t you know!

- in the same vein, he’s totally bewildered and caught off guard by the flirting (at first), and wants to confirm it’s intentional and serious on rook’s part by communicating very clearly about it. Which is a good and mature thing, of course, but it’s also him clarifying that he’s interpreting rook’s overtures correctly.

- he simply cannot stop himself from constantly infodumping about necromancy and botany, his most dearly held interests. He will happily spend all day with these subjects, then talk about them some more, then read about them some more before bed. He never seems to get tired of absorbing more of them or talking about them. Most people, no matter how passionate about their work, don’t have that level of commitment in their off time. Even the fact that he wants to become a lich, which very few members of the mourn watch are willing to do, is indicative of how deeply he’s entrenched his life in necromancy. And when talking with someone who doesn’t care about either of those things, or actively dislikes them, he tends to flounder and cut the conversation short.

- furthermore, he doesn’t really know how to set people at ease with necromancy; he thinks if he just talks more and more about what he finds beautiful and valuable about it, eventually people will “get it,” even if they’re clearly uncomfortable. See especially: his conflicts with taash, some of his conversations with lucanis, etc. you could chalk this up to cultural differences, but I think most people in his position would approach the subject with a little more discretion when dealing with foreigners who definitely have different perspectives on the subject.

- he and bellara (who is deliberately neurodivergent coded) get along very harmoniously. he has no trouble keeping up with her, and they’re very much able to tap into each other’s wavelengths. Conversely, taash (also neurodivergent coded) has all the opposite traits: very unemotive, struggles to articulate themself aloud, special interests he doesn’t care about, etc., and they get on each others’ nerves without even trying. He can’t figure taash out because he can’t read between the lines of their behavior, but when it's finally made clear to him that taash is afraid of his necromancy he immediately switches gears, because he’s no longer trying to guess what he's done to offend them.

- being empathetic towards nonhuman creatures is a very common experience for autistic folks, and he’s deeply empathetic towards spirits, moreso even than other members of the mourn watch. He says they were his companions growing up, despite having other humans around that he could’ve turned to for comfort and companionship after his parents’ deaths, and he displays a degree of understanding and compassion for them that is really only on par with like, solas, as far as other characters of the franchise go.

- Sylvia also described him as “a man of large emotions,” which is a big mood, pardon the pun, for neurodivergent folk.

- obviously being homesick in and of itself isn’t unique to autism, nor is not being well traveled, but he clearly misses his personal routines; he’s thinking about how he misses his old norms and schedule when rook asks him about homesickness, and later when rook talks with him about his youth he says the repetitive rituals of the mourn watch were exactly what he needed to heal from the loss of his parents. Spending their entire life in the mourn watch could feel confining or limiting to many people, but emmrich gets away for the first time in a long time and immediately misses it. You could also link this desire to have consistency to his conflict with harding about camping; the idea of getting to see fereldan is exciting to him in theory, but having to change his regular routine (leaving behind his books, dressing gown, shaving kit etc.) upsets him. It’s not about being spoiled—he grew up poor, after all—it’s about having to give up his regular habits.

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Hi :) I was wondering if you could do Poly Dallas and sodapop hcs? with a reader if you're comfortable with it, of course. I think it would be a funny dynamic

This was written in my anatomy class (can you tell that I don’t pay attention in anatomy?) so I’m gonna give @a-person-who-didn’t-want-to-be-here a big huge thank you for helping me out <4

Anyway!

There’s a really complicated getting together story here? I just haven’t figured it out quite yet, so I’m gonna leave that to you guys to think up cause there’s a few ideas swirling around my head, I just haven’t nailed anything down because I’m really not in love with any of my thoughts

But you’ve got the best of both worlds going on for you! A nice golden retriever boyfriend and a boyfriend who’s more of a german shepherd/rottweiler/doberman type-

Life is good!

Both of these boys run warm and they can both be very very handsy, made worse by the fact that they are both very very much in love with you

Jealousy is sort of wonky here? Cause Dally’s very loudly jealous, but Sodapop’s jealousy comes off as him acting more closed-off and withdrawn, he just kinda pulls away when you hang too much with Dallas

Also, before we get any further along, Sandy and Sylvia don’t exist here because I’m in charge and I make the rules :)

Parties! You’re always being dragged out to parties, whether it’s a drag race and you’re on Sodapop’s arm, or a late night party at Buck’s bar where Dally keeps you tucked to his side all night long

You’ve got the whole freaking gang honestly, the whole crew wrapped around your finger-

Dating Dally gets you Johnny in an instant, dating Sodapop gets you Pony, Dare, and Steve- the only one left is Two-Bit but ya know, he’s a good enough guy, he’s probably on your side in all this anyhow-

You’re at the DX a lot, just hanging around the pumps and the garage and the register while Soda’s at work (you definitely skip school to go see him, Dally picks you up and you guys waste the day over at the gas station)

Sodapop sneaking out to meet you and Dally down at Buck’s because there’s a party tonight and honestly he doesn’t care if Darry kills him for being at the Merrill’s establishment, he hasn’t seen you all week long-

Of course of course, you’re wearing Dally’s ring and when you and Sodapop are holding hands, he likes to twist it around your finger and fiddle with it

Dally asks him what he’s doing, asks if Sodapop’s trying to take it off as if he’s got some sort of problem with you wearing somebody else’s ring but Soda just kinda shrugs and says he likes fooling with it

Baby boy’s got no problem other than ADHD and he likes to mess with things 🤷

Patching them up after a rumble is such an obnoxious task- Dally’s whining about broken ribs and how he can barely breath and Soda’s slouched on the floor, holding an ice pack to his face and asking if you’ll still love him if he’s got a black eye

Suggestion? Try and keep them close together in this situation ^^ make them sit near each other, because they both want attention and if you’ve got to run back and forth across the living room every two seconds, no one’s going to be happy-

You spend a lot of time sitting in Dallas’ lap and you spend a lot of time holding Soda’s hand, sometimes these happen at the same time-

Imma say it, you’re not sharing a bed with both of them unless you’re hurt or sick because both of these boys are like portable space heaters and no matter how cold you may be, these human furnaces will make you feel like you’re being slowly cooked because they sandwich you between them

PET NAMES PET NAMES PET NAMES

Doll, baby, honey, sugar, sweetheart, babe….

Just…you’re gonna forget you actually have a name because they never call you by your actual name-

You’re dating two highschool dropouts, how do you feel about that?

Joking, joking, I know you feel wonderful, as you should, because you’re going with two great guys!!

There’s like?

A betting pool going around?

Because no one can figure out who you’re going out with (other than the gang of course)

And Sodapop and Dallas do nothing to help you out- they purposefully make it even worse-

You go to a party with Sodapop, hanging off his arm, and at the end of the night, you’re going home with Dally, spending your night in his room at Buck’s

You’re sitting on the DX counter (you don’t even work there but you have free reign of the place, let’s be real) and you’ve got Dally’s medal around your neck, Dal himself is off in reform and you and Sodapop are planning a date <3

One night, you get caught kissing Dallas, tongues down each others’ throats and all that jazz, and the next thing everyone else knows, you’re walking with Sodapop and he’s got a hand in your pocket

Everyone is town is anxiously awaiting the day that the boys figure out you’re two-timing them because surely, Dallas Winston isn’t going to stand for you messing around on him

But ya know, nothing ever happens, even when people try and get Sodapop and Dallas to see what’s going-

With Soda, they’ll point out Dally and you sitting at a diner booth together, asking him what’s going on, cause weren’t you guys going steady?

And Dal, they’ll ask him where you are when you’re not at Buck’s, mentioning casually that you’ve been hanging out around the DX an awful lot-

With Male!Readers?

You guys are labeled just as good friends all the time and it makes it a lot easier to lie about why you guys are together all the time (curse you time-period realistic homophobia *shakes my fist at the sky*)

I would loveeeeee to do a male!reader piece for this topic, just saying guys-

This….really got away from me-

Sorry for making this so long guys-

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Do you have Stevie hcs

Yup

tons

it’s a problem

How they met:

-Steve has always thought Evie’s pretty, but in a hallway crush way- he never really met her until the incident at the police station, when they’re both sixteen (Stevie police station meetcute is @dallasgallant’s fantastic idea lol and I love it sm)

-Evie was also vaguely aware of Steve before that, but she just knew him as Darry Curtis’s little brother’s angry boyfriend sidekick

-I talked about/drew it in this post, but in more detail, I think the police station incident went like this:

-Evie’s mom dates a lot of not so great guys. Usually they leave Evie alone, but they’re pretty abusive towards her mom. On the day of the police station incident, one of them slapped her mom in the face. So Evie punched him so hard his nose broke.

-And then he called the cops on her. So she got hauled into the police station.

-That’s where she met Steve, who was at the station because he got caught for a bit of petty theft

-Steve hears her arguing with the cops while he’s waiting for Soda to come pick him up, and when she comes out of the office and sits across from him to wait for her Mom to get her, he says something like “You know, your crime was pretty tuff.” And then he cringes because that’s a ridiculous thing to say to someone, especially a really gorgeous girl

-But Evie, who’s had a hard day, actually really needed to hear that. She was standing up for her mom, and her mom didn’t even thank her, and now the cops just yelled at her and honestly scared her for it. She’s actually started second guessing herself- like is she crazy? Should she have hit the guy? Is she in the wrong here?? So it means the world to have Steve tell her he thinks her actions were justified

-She thanks him, because she’s legit close to tears at this point she’s so frazzled

-Steve elaborates on how badass he thinks she is. He rambles about it more than he otherwise would because he genuinely thinks she’s awesome for that, but he also isn’t used to complimenting anyone (especially not pretty girls), so he thinks he’s coming off as so uncool

-But Evie needs that, actually. So when Soda comes to pick Steve up, Evie makes sure she takes note of his name/who he is, and she starts purposefully showing up at the DX to “accidentally run into him”

General relationship h/cs

-All of Evie’s friends think Steve sucks, which is okay because Evie thinks their boyfriends suck too

-Like when she tells Sylvia, who I hc as her best friend, about Steve, Sylvia’s like “Ew, really?! C’mom, him? The one with the teeth? That guy’s such an asshole, I don’t think he’s ever said anything nice in his life.” Slyvia mainly knows Steve as an annoying friend of Dally’s, who has the same temper and poor attitude but none of the cool rebel allure. (Part of this disdain is that Sylvia just doesn’t find Steve attractive, like at all, so in her head he’s just a worse person)

-And Evie’s like “You can’t say that, you’re dating Dallas Winston.” (Evie thinks Dally is both unattractive and horrible to be around)

-Steve’s friends all love Evie though

-Soda thinks she’s so cool- he’d be jealous (of both of them) if he didn’t have Sandy (for now 😭)

-Evie is the only person Steve feels comfortable showing his deeper feelings. She’s pretty open about her own, so Steve can let himself be more sensitive around her without feeling like a total sissy. I mean, he’s open around Soda too, but honestly less. He still kinda wants Soda to think he’s cool, yk? Evie though is so open about how cool she thinks he is that he can let his guard down easier. (I mean, due to traditional gender norms, especially in the 60s, it’s easier for Evie to be open than it is for Soda or Steve I think)

-They’re both pretty physical- Evie may not wrestle people or affectionately punch them, but she likes physical touch too. Just with her it’s usually like. Less aggressive. She does get a little more aggressive with Steve though to kinda match his energy (translation- they both like PDA a lot)

-Evie’s tried arm wrestling Steve a handful of times- she hasn’t won yet

-But she has carried him before lol- he’d never admit it, but he loves it (He doesn’t need to admit it tho, she can tell)

-Evie’s good with reading people, but especially Steve. She can see right through his bravado and the more preformative aspects of his personality- like how he’s always wearing sleeveless things, obsessively checking his hair, the way he’s always gotta have attention or he’ll just die- and she thinks it’s honestly so cute. Like, he’s not just a cool tough hood, he’s also a dumb teen boy. And she finds that really endearing

-Steve finds her brain really attractive, but also very much her looks. That sounds shallow- hear me out. My version of Evie doesn’t see always see herself as conventionally good-looking- she’s a mixed race girl in a very white part of town, raised by a white mother who doesn’t know how raise a non-white kid, in the 19-fucking-60s. She’s tall, and not the most thin- she’s used to feeling too big, too dark, too much, from how she looks to how she acts to how she is. So having Steve see all that- all her emotions, all her anger, her height, her hair, her everything- and yet see her as the hottest chick in Tulsa and also probably the whole world matters so much to her. She’s never felt like she fits into the proper mold of good wholesome femininity and it kills her, so the fact that Steve sees her as the epitome of The Perfect Girl makes her feel so much better about herself. (I know this attitude probably sounds kind of dated, but uh. Again, it’s the 60s. So.)

-Similarly, Steve’s not always the most confident in his looks even if he acts like he is. Being best buddies with a universally beloved guy like Soda occasionally does make him feel like he’s ugly by comparison. Especially with his teeth and height and the fact that he’s less lean and slender than Soda- Steve’s shorter and hasn’t lost his baby fat and it feels lousy. (Little bit of Steve angst- I h/c that girls have gone out with him in the past just to get closer to Soda. It seriously fucked with his head, because he was so jealous and angry with Soda, but also loves and adores Soda, and it’s not Soda’s fault that he’s good looking and Steve isn’t… ) (Steve is still perfectly alright looking, even if Soda’s more conventionally attractive- but he’s also less friendly/charismatic than Soda) Anyway, having Evie go for him over Soda feels like a big deal- It’s happened before of course, but never with a girl he liked as much as he likes Evie

-Steve used to like reading, but he slowly stopped over time because he’s a JD and books are for sensitive babies like Ponyboy. But when Evie recommends books to him, he reads them and talks to her about them. He wants to understand her and all the things she loves

-In turn, Evie talks to him about cars- she likes cars too, but admittedly not as much as Steve does. Still, she’ll go with him to every motor show and often helps him out at the DX. She used to help her dad work on cars back when he was alive, and so she knows about as much about them as Steve does anyhow

-In springtime, Steve steals flowers from his neighbors’ yards and leaves them in Evie’s locker at school

-One time Ponyboy and Two-Bit catch him with the flowers, and they both make fun of him so hard for “going soft”

-Legit though, for Evie, he is completely soft. She could stab him if she wanted and he’d thank her (she would never do that but you get the idea)

-One time she convinced him to let her do his eyeliner. He thought it was ridiculous, but only protested a little- plus, it meant getting to stare into her eyes and admire her face for the whole time she was drawing it on, and he can’t complain about that

-When they first started dating, Steve was real insecure because he’s 5’7 and Evie’s 5' 7.5- and in the go go boots she always wears, she’s 5’9. And Dally would often make fun of him for being shorter than his girl which just made things worse. Deep down he was also kind of…physically into their slight height difference, which confused him so much. Over time though he got over the discomfort- besides, he might be shorter than her, but he’s still bigger/stronger than her so it doesn’t hurt his masculinity too much anymore

-Steve realizes he loves her when he gets sent to the cooler for lifting hubcaps. As he’s being handcuffed, Evie starts to cry- both at being disappointed in him, and from being scared for him. And for the first time since he was a little innocent happy kid, Steve reconsiders whether he wants to be a hood. Because if it makes Evie this upset…is it really worth it? And that freaks him out, because the only other person he’s ever cared that much about not disappointing is Soda

-Evie has loved him a little bit ever since they first met and he understood her when no one else did- but she falls in love with him when she’s had a fight with her mom and Steve comes over. He had been at some thrilling drag race with Soda, but he dropped everything to make sure she was okay as soon as he heard. Once he’s there, he listens to her talk, takes her seriously, and she’s never felt so understood and seen. And she knows then that she’s found someone who gets her in a way no one else does

-Evie steals Steve’s sweatshirts and jackets and occasionally even his jeans. In return, Steve wears her (more androgynous looking) jewelry- like her rings and chains and whatever. She almost convinced him to let her pierce his ears so that he could steal her earrings too- he chickened out at the last minute, less because of the pain and more because he didn’t wanna be seen as girly or gay (even though he is for Soda). Maybe someday when Steve’s older and more secure in his masculinity he’ll let her do it though

-Privately, Steve has already planned out how he’s gonna propose to her. He doubts he’ll go through with it until after Evie’s finished college, but he knows he wants to marry her someday

[spikedhe4rt]

dating dallas hcs??

Dallas Winston x Reader Headcannons 🪐🪐

A/N: Hope you enjoy this. I just want to say, I love you guys so much. Thank you for all the support and patience! My request box is always open! <3

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

❥ You guys met at bucks, you were a bartender and he lives there.

❥ He started to talk to you randomly because he was just bored.

❥ It turned into hours and hours of conversation and you guys just hit it off.

"Im Dallas Winston, Im sure you've-" You quickly interrupted with a sarcastic eye roll. "Yes, Ive heard of you. You say that to all the girls in town". He shook his head with a grin. "Nah, only the pretty bartenders." Cue another eye roll

❥ You were a fire cracker and he loved that about you.

❥ Yall became close to the point, he would rant to you about Sylvia. You had to hide your jealousy every time.

❥ You were talking to him about some rude person at work and he truly realized how beautiful you are. He really sat and stared for a hot minute.

"I wanted to punch that asshole so- Hello? Earth to Dallas fucking Winston?"  he jumped slightly at your words before cooly nodding.  "Im listening..."

❥ He was honestly conflicted about his feelings for you.

❥ It wasn't until you went on a date with someone else, he confessed.

"Dallas, whats your problem?" You didn't get why he was being such an asshole today. "Why didn't you come over today!?" he said angrily. "I had a date, y'know that!" he shrugged "Exactly!"

"It was just a movie and-" He looked at you with what felt like a hurt expression "and you didn't need to be with him. I like you." His hand came to the sides of your face and fiercely kissed you.

❥ You guys started dating after that. You guys never officially asked eachother, you just felt it.

❥ Getting to wear his Christopher.

❥ Walking around together with his arm around you.

❥Him never letting you walk around alone because he gets worried.

❥ The only time he will let you touch his hair is when you're stressed bc he's know you love it

❥ He leaves the biggest hickeys on you.

❥ His love language is acts of service.

❥ You not understanding half the stuff he says because the accent but you know he means well.

❥ He calls you doll and sweetheart.

❥ Always getting flustered when you patch him up bc he claims you have to sit on his lap to do it.

"Dallas, I don't need to sit on your lap to do this. You're fine just sitting on the counter" you say with a eyeroll.

❥ When you guys sleep together, he always ends up holding you.

❥ Movie dates

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

❥ When in missionary, he props your legs on his shoulders so you can feel him deeper.

❥ He use's overstimulation as a punishment and reward.

- "Dally please, its too much." You pant out as Dally brings you to your peak for what seems like the 3rd time. "Weren't you just begging to cum like a pathetic slut after I said no" His thrusts became faster as you moaned out. "You can take it, sweetheart."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

- "Dally please, more!" You plead for another orgasm, feeling so good that you don't want it to end. You clench around him, moaning out. "You want more, huh? Ill give you whatever as long as you keep being a good girl for me." He continued to fuck you till you both were spent.

❥  He spanks/smacks your ass raw when he hits it from the back.

❥ Leaves loves bites all over your chest.

❥ Loves to tell you everything he going to do to you.

"Oh fuck, Dally faster!" you mewled as he fingered you. His two digits were hitting your g-spot with every thrust. "You like that, huh? Im not gonna stop till you cum all over my fingers."

❥  When he eats you out, he sucks your clit just right and he knows it too.

❥ Has a degrading and praise kink.

"Such a pretty little slut for me"

[yeaimsafiya]

CHAPTER ONE back from rehab

SYNOPSIS the beginning of a teenage girl named y/n who is fresh out of rehab but doesn't intend to stay clean.

FROM THE WRITER AHH IM SORRY IM LATE GUYS!! This is the first chapter I'm ever writing, I took some inspo from episode 1 but I'm going to have to cut each episode into fourths because I really don't want to spend a whole week trying to finish a whole episode and school work. But I hope you guys really enjoy this chapter as much as I did - Love you guys, Sapiyah <3

WARNINGS Lots of unnecessary writing, female! reader, mentions of drugs and drinking, strong sexual content, nudity, violence, adult content, adult language, scenes might be uncomfortable for some, some scenes might include mentions of mental illness'

SERIES EUPHORIA

CHARACTERS INCLUDED members of the bakusquad & dekusquad, big three(?), some characters of class 1A

NOTES MDNI! Ageless blogs will be blocked or removed.

Readers discretion is advised

Suddenly, the whole world goes dark and nothing else matters except the person standing in front of you.

You were once happy. Content.

Sloshing and swimming around your own private, primordial pool; Then one day, for reasons beyond your control, you were continuously and repeatedly crushed...

Over..and over.. again by the cervix of your mother, M/n.

You put up a good fight, but eventually lost, for the first time, but not the last.

You were born 3 days after 9/11, your mother and father spent two days in the hospital, holding you under the soft glow of the television, watching those towers fall over and over again, until the feeling of grief gave away to numbness.

And then, without warning, a middle-class childhood in the American suburbs.

|

You were sitting at the dinner table with your mother, M/n, and Father, F/n. But it appeared something else had gotten your attention, a set of numerous lights above the dinner table, in which you wanted to count.

"Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen.."

" What are you looking at y/n?"

"..."

"What are you doing? ..Y-y/n look at me."

"One, two, three, .."

"What are you doing Y/n?"

*cries*

|

"Id say she's suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder..."

Its not like you were physically abused..

"...attention deficit disorder..."

..Or had some type of clean water storage..

"..general anxiety disorder.."

..Or was molested by a family member.

"..and possibly bipolar disorder. But she's a little bit too young to tell."

So, explain this shit to me.

|

"Honey, it's just the way your brain was hardwired; Plenty of great, intelligent, funny, interesting and creative people have struggled with the same things you struggle with."

"Like who?"

"Vincent Van Gogh, Sylvia Plath, and even Brittney Spears, your favorite!"

You haven't remembered much from the ages of eight to twelve. Just that the world moved fast, and your mind moved slow.

"Does anyone have an idea of what a perception might be?"

And every now and then, if you focused on the way you breathed...

You'd die.

"Slow down, just breathe"

Until every second of the day, you'd find yourself trying to outrun your anxiety.

"What's wrong Y/n?"

..And quite frankly..

"I'm just fucking exhausted"

|

Coming down to the kitchen, you could hear the small talk between your mother and younger sister, S/N.

"You said the doctor was in our network. How can he suddenly be out of network?"

"I can't afford it."

"Did you see that video of the girl who got acid thrown at her face?"

"What? No.."

"It's pretty fucked up.."

"Mom do you know where the tampons are?"

"In my bathroom, right under the sink."

And at one point, you'd make a choice of who you are and what you want.

"Alright Gia, let's go"

"Why do the co-payments cost $300?"

"Y/n did you eat breakfast?"

".."

"What's with the glasses?"

"What glasses?"

You just happened to show up one day, without a map or a compass..

"Attention students, we need to lockdown."

..Or to be honest, anyone capable of giving on iota of good fucking advice.

And I know it all seems sad but guess what? You did not build this system up, nor fuck it up yourself.

But then it happens. That moment where your breath starts to slow. And every time you breathe, you breathe out all the oxygen you have.

Then everything stops: Your heart, your lungs, then finally, your brain. And everything you feel, you wish, and want to forget, it all just sinks.

And then suddenly... you give it air again, give it life again.

You remember the first time it happened, where you were so scared you wanted to call 911. Go to the hospital and be kept alive by machines and apple juice. But you didn't want to look like an idiot, and you didn't want to fuck up everyone else's night.

And now overtime, that's all you've wanted.. those two seconds of nothingness.

You spent a good portion of summer before junior year in rehab. God granted you the serenity to accept things you cannot change, the courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

"Y/N," your sister yelled from afar, greeting you after your long leave. You smiled, and whilst running up to her, tried to continue the conversation with your younger sibling.

"Hey, Come here!"

"How are you?"

"Good, I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"Look at you, are you growing?"

"No."

Looking over, you see your mother standing by your family car.

"Hey," you yelled out to her, only to receive a small smile from her.

And with that. you knew it was your time to go.

|

"I'm very happy for you Y/n. You're about to start a brand-new chapter," Your mother says while driving you and your sister to school. You looked at her with a smile, then turned your attention back to the car window.

You had no intentions of staying clean. And yet, Jirou just moved into town.

"There's some new girl in town that I think you'll be friends with," Shoto said, with you standing beside him in his store.

"Who?"

"Shit, I don't know. She came in looking all punk rock and shit; So I'm thinking to myself, like, 'look like somebody Y/n would be friends with'."

Which was sort of a dead-on observation for Shoto, who's not normally revolving in the same direction as planet earth.

"So how long have you been back?" He asked.

"About five days."

"And how are you feeling?"

"I mean, ever since I gave my life over to my lord and savior Jesus Christ, things have been, like, really good."

"Word? That's what's up," You chuckled at his snarky remark, giving him a small smile.

"I'm fucking with you," you said whilst laughing, "It was a joke."

"Shit, hey, I don't judge," he defended, hands raising to just above his chest.

"But for real, is Deku in the back?"

"Are you serious?" Shoto questioned, seeming very disappointed in you.

"What, you think cause' I went to rehab I stayed clean?"

"I mean, ain't that the point?" he asks.

"Yeah, well, the world is coming to an end, and I haven't even graduated high school yet."

You gave Shoto one more smile before going to Deku, whilst Shoto stared at you the entire way there; There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but since you were too busy looking for Deku, you didn't see.

You opened one of the doors of the refrigerators, leading you right to him with a bowl of fruit loops,"I thought your ass was dead," he said one he saw your appearance.

"And I thought you had Asperger's till I realized your just a prick," you barked back.

"This a fickle industry, y'all come and go. I'm just trying to stack my cash, pay off our mortgage," he said while pulling out a bunch of plastic bags out of a microwave.

"So what the fuck do you want?" You gave him a knowing look before he handed you needed.

"You sure you don't want to try something new?" He asks you.

"Like what?"

"2C-T-2, 2C-T-7, and 5-MeO-DIPT."

"I'm sorry I have no fucking idea of what you just said."

"It doesn't matter," he stated, "but this shit, is fucking lit."

"What is it?"

"N-diisopropyl-5-methoxytryptamine. It's a fast-acting psychedelic."

Got some similarities to LSD, but with, like, key differences. Not as visual as shit, but definitely a sense distorter.

"What's wrong?" That same dark purple hair girl questioned.

"I'm just so happy," you responded back.

"I don't know, this shits been going off in Tampa, and mad people like to fuck with this," Deku continued on with his descriptions with the drug.

"Okay. Yeah, why not."

"That'll be 120."

"Oh uh, Shoto said he'd spot me."

"Shoto doesn't spot nobody."

"Yeah, well, it's a post-rehab discount, so you should ask him."

"I will go ask him, cause' I know your full of shit."

Those were the last words he said before you walked out. Those were the last words you heard before you saw the same two boys in freshman year.

Bakugo and Kirishima.

TAGLIST: (send an ask or reply to add or remove) @urinejaeger, @saturxnn, @lv9su, @minnipe, @flamgosstuff, @lilrockzstar, @actfsgxcv, @lovebuggyboo, @russochild19, @iits-lexie, @mendez5657, @animatronicrat, @thirstygorl, @scrittynotfound, @pleaseleavemebelol, @thymebread, @cocojellie, @vxnanaaa-blog, @tn-johnson, @knotatwink, @hpttstears, @blackcatluna, @queennb-123, @nndntahg

All work is subject to copyright by © yeaimsapiyah as of 2024.

Do not steal, use or reupload my work without given permission or my consent. If so, you will either be blocked, removed, or reported.

[guesswhojusttt]

someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little? (love me a little?)

Ren Hana x suicidal!reader

Summary:

You work at a suicide hotline, and get a call from a boy who watches too much anime. It's all downhill from there.

Full story on AO3

Chapter 1: she's my mother, I tell him, but she has never been a mother

Summary:

“Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn.”

― Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

(Note: the text messages are formatted weird on tumblr but are coded into looking like phone texts on AO3)

You sit at your desk- a quick turn in your black spinny chair- and push on a pressure point at the meat of your thumb in a little attempt to calm down. Pull on your headset, adjust the mic, and speak as kindly as you can. “Hey, I’m right here to support you- this is a judgment-free, safe space, and everything you share is entirely confidential and anonymous. You don’t even have to share your name unless you feel comfortable. What’s on your mind?”

“Are you busy right now?” The boy- young man?- is anxious, skittish.

“No, I’m available to talk as long as you need.” 

“Okay, but when you do get busy, you’ll tell me, right? If there’s- if there's someone else waiting on the line, and all the phones are occupied so no one picks up- I’d never forgive myself for taking help away from someone who actually deserves it. So if- if someone calls in, let me know and I’ll hang up, okay?”

“Okay.” You say. You will not, of course, hang up on a suicidal caller, but the guilt of using a resource they don’t ‘deserve’ wasn’t entirely uncommon. So many had started the call with I’m not suicidal so I don't even know why I’m calling, but… or I know I’m hogging something people actually need…

“Because, you know. There’s so many poor people and I’m- not. All these horrible stories about- about a spouse who hits you or having to work two jobs just to make ends meet- but I’m not- I’m privileged. Lucky. So I don’t… I really don’t know why I feel… I’m not sure what’s wrong with me.” You imagine him pulling the hem of his sleeves over his hands, wringing them, white-knuckled.

“Well, you don’t need to compare yourself to others.” You speak slowly, calmly, doing your best to soothe him. “Death by one bullet or death by a dozen is still death, yeah? Your problem is just as important as anyone else’s.”

“But it’s… silly. There’s this guy I met and- he’s like the only one who listens to me, but I’m not sure- he’s older, you know, and I don’t- it’s not like I like him like that, but my family doesn’t care about- and it's not like I have any friends- he seems nice. I think. I’m not sure.” It's like he's typing up a message, erased the whole thing, wrote a new one, backspaced, scrapped it and started from scratch again.

“I can’t give you any advice-”

“But what would you do?”

“I’m not permitted to tell you what to do-”

“I just need a second opinion. An unbiased, third party. It’s… something feels off, but he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known.” He huffs, sheepish. “Mostly because he’s the only person who’s bothered knowing me.”

You want to point out that it sounds codependent, that the other person is taking advantage of his desperation, that isn’t this grooming, but you inject as much understanding, as much sympathy, as you can into your voice. Judgment-free, as you’d promised. “And why does something feel off?”

“It just does. But, like… who cares about being safe, you know? Isn’t it better to be loved? Not that I love him, I hardly know him. But… he listens. No one ever listens. Um- no offense. You don’t count since it’s your job.”

“I understand,” you assure gently, “I know how important it is to have a friend. It’s normal to want to connect to anyone, even if that person doesn’t feel safe, or reliable.”

He babbles without breathing, as if scared he’ll be interrupted, or shut down, if he doesn’t let it all out at once. “Exactly- see, exactly, you get it. And it’s like- if I don't do this, I don’t know what else I’ll do. I was about to kill myself, you know? Because my date didn’t show, and this was like- this was my last shot, my one chance at having someone who loves and supports me, to have a relationship and- I've been waiting three hours here, how pathetic is that? But he came and saw I’d been stood up and let me whine about my problems and- part of me wants to just keep talking to him, go with him, but the other part… but if I don’t, that’s it. He’s my last chance, and I’ll just kill myself. So I’m in the bathroom of the restaurant now and he’s out there at my table and I’m huddled in a stall like a loser and I’m still- still not sure if he’s someone I’m- so I called here instead.”

“And I’m so proud of you for doing that.” You pour your sincerity in, and you mean it. You lean forward a little, fingers idly working at your palm’s pressure point to keep yourself, and your voice, calm. “It can be incredibly hard to reach out for help, to open up to a stranger, and you’ve done such a wonderful job for me so far. This man- he’s making you uncomfortable?”

“No, no- I mean, yes, I’m uncomfortable, but it’s not his fault. He’s really kind, actually, I mean I know it sounds weird but I swear he’s a nice guy. And like, if it’s a choice between going home alone, again-" and there's so much weight in that again, the heaviness of years of frustration and isolation and raw misery, "and how many nights and months and years can one person spend alone before they just- they just need someone? So if it’s a choice between a- a sweet guy and just- just offing myself-”

“May I ask if you still intend to end your life tonight?” You wince. You're generally not supposed to interrupt, supposed to give them the space to say everything they need to, but this guy is barreling on like his words are pus, are vomit, that he just needs to hurl up.

“No. Yes. Maybe. I… it depends. On the guy I mentioned. Some part of me thinks I should cut contact, but mostly want so badly to talk to him again. I don't know how to describe it. It's not like having a crush. It’s like… I just want him to make me feel important again.”

“Your importance is unchangeable regardless of who recognizes it or not, and no one can make you important, but naturally, all humans require external love and affection to feel it.” Your finger twitches over your mouse, considering flagging your supervisor that the caller was in danger, at-risk of some- what? Attack? Criminal? An ill-thought-out one-night stand? “Of course you want him to make you feel important- but do you feel like you’re risking your safety?”

“A little. Well. A lot. But what’s life without a little risk, right?" He chuckles self-deprecatingly, dry and bitter. "I’m just- a shut-in, watching stupid anime and reading manga all day and collecting dumb figurines and- the riskiest thing I’ve done is drinking too many energy drinks so I could stay up for a Kamisama Kiss marathon. I think… isn’t it about time I step out of my comfort zone?”

You're patient, you're kind, you're not enough. “Like I mentioned, I’m in no position to provide advice. However, we can come up with a safety plan, if you'd like? If you stay alive tonight, you can sleep on it and have a clear head to decide in the morning.”

Here’s what you should’ve done.

You should’ve flagged your supervisor. Should’ve messaged her: I think the caller might be in danger of harm from others. He has repeatedly mentioned an unsafe, unreliable man. While he hasn’t provided details, he has reported feelings of unease and uncertainty. The caller is young and has stated the man is older, and I want to ensure his safety and well-being. Your supervisor would have told you what to say- maybe to steer the caller away from the strange man- and he would’ve been okay. He would’ve been fine, and you would’ve been fine, and none of this would happen.

But all you’d done is established the next steps, a “what are your physical needs? Do you feel up for food, drinking something, or taking a shower?”

“I… don’t feel like getting water. I do have some ramune I ordered though, at my table.”

“That’s great!” You encourage. Little steps should always be rewarded, you think. “Being hydrated is good; doesn’t have to be water. Is there anything you usually do to soothe yourself?”

“Well, I… watching anime is great, but if I really wanna take my mind off things, I like to..." he trails off, a little shyly. Embarrassed, even.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me, but as long as your hobby is fun for you, that's what matters." From collecting and naming rocks to editing and monitoring all the Wikipedia pages about the Odyssey, every caller- every person- had their own way of self-soothing. 

"I know it's... a moronic waste of time, but I... sketch some self-insert OCs.”

“Drawing is very creative, and I know it can take a lot of time and effort, too. Give yourself some credit. Do you feel up for that tonight?”

“Yeah. I guess. Thanks. I think it’s best to go home, now, I’ve been at the restaurant an embarrassing amount of time anyway. Um- thanks for- being cool about all this. Bye.”

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He would end up talking to the man again after all, going home with him, and wreck his life- and yours- in the process.

You jam your index finger deeper into the pressure point at the base of your thumb:

Lonely since you were a child, you filled it with what many do: video games. A hopeless romantic, you filled the need for a relationship with otome games specifically. One of them, bad boys do it better, had this scene: the strong-but-silent love interest finds the main character, the only girl at an all-boys’ school, sleepy and yawning in the classroom. He takes her hand, presses a pressure point on her palm, and she feels all invigorated and awake.

Considering you, yourself, were constantly sleep-deprived, you decided to look it up for yourself: it wasn't a fluke. Give yourself an acupressure wake-up, one article reads, 6 pressure points for falling asleep, Medical News Today lists. It becomes a hyperfixation: pressure points for period cramps, for headaches, for high blood pressure. When you’re motion sick in a car, you massage a point in your inner arm to soothe it, when the Tylenol and Advil don’t make your migraines go away, you try a pressure point between your eyes, or at the side of your brow.

Honestly, it doesn’t always work- maybe half the time?- but it’s a cool party trick. Or, would be, if you got invited to parties.

As you type up the basic information of the call (reason for calling, next steps established, suicidal risk from 1-5), you think about how everyone is suicidal, actually. There’s so many YouTube playlists- for when you want to disappear, alone… again, one more night feeling like the loneliest person in the world, when loneliness no longer a pain but a comfort, suicide at 3AM, it’s getting worse again and it’s all your fault, slowly dying- where the comment section of vent playlists and lo-fi hours are flooded with paragraphs of people either pouring out their life’s trauma or comforting words to gently encourage the reader to live another day. There’s suicide hotlines and textlines and 7 cups of tea and a steep increase in people seeking therapy this past decade, because everyone is depressed, because there’s a housing crisis and all-time highs both for poverty rates and billionaire’s incomes and and and

There isn’t really a reason to live, anymore. No dream house to look forward to, no shiny career as a writer or actor or artist or teacher when they’re so severely underpaid, no true love soulmate when there’s no third place to meet people anymore, except a bar or a club which is really just a chance to be drugged and date-raped.

So, no. You don’t think you’re depressed, you don’t think most people are depressed; rather, you think the world itself is in a very depressing state, which naturally leads to its inhabitants mirroring its circumstances.  

Well. You might be a tiny bit suicidal, but not depressed. Not really. From fantasizing about running away from home since you were eight to constantly imagining grabbing a bag and getting out of here through every single middle and high school year to the crushing disappointment of not affording a dorm and having to live with her throughout university and then, in some twisted, cruel fate, having to stay even while you work because she has chronic pain and can't work, won't work, and wouldn't you be ableist for leaving someone on so many medications to fend for themselves? 

So you work and you pay the rent and the groceries and the bills and it all goes to her bank account. Oh, sure, the account is under your name (and somehow that's worse, it's your credit score it's affecting), but it's her email and her phone number and she won't tell you the password and she's taken out some loan and your account is 4000 in debt and there's some 15% APR platinum whatever and and and 

It's not your money. You don't get to spend it, and yet you wake up and drag yourself to work even when exhausted and sit through eight grueling hours and then there’s no reward, no payoff, nothing but heading home to the same arguments and abuse and fighting and yelling and you decide, realize, in an awful epiphany, that you're not getting out. You're never getting out. 

Because it’ll only get worse. She'll grow older, and even if there's no Alzheimer's or dementia, aging will hit her- maybe she'll need a walking stick (she already uses one sometimes), or a wheelchair, or you'll need to be the one feeding her, and you'll only have to do more, more, more-

You're never going to be free. You'll be shackled to your abuser from womb to tomb.

You’re never getting out. The only solution- the quickest, easiest solution- is to kill yourself. Except that’s a sin, so you can’t. It doesn’t stop you from wishing for it, romanticizing it- all of which is so deeply, wickedly ironic, as your job is to keep others from fulfilling your greatest desire. Callers blur together- my dad is an alcoholic and I’ve never heard a kind word from him, my little sister’s dead and I can’t get over it, I’ll never get over it- and every day, you soothe them, help them establish a safety plan, connect them to resources for mental health- peer support groups and affordable, sliding-scale therapists and a million other ways to help them, to keep them alive, even while you so deeply ache to die, yourself.

Some never call again, and you hope that means things are better, now. That they found a reason to live. Some are regular callers- maybe you don’t speak to them every time, but it shows up on your screen- that they’ve called four times this year, that the last time they were calling it was about academic stress and this time it’s about the loneliness of summer vacation, and it- kills you, that you can’t help everyone. Can’t save everyone. Once, halfway through a conversation where the caller had been pouring her heart out- about how she’d thrown away her life, how she’d studied and worked so hard to be a doctor but then got married to a man who insisted she stay home to raise their first kid, then their third, then their fifth, and now her degree is twenty years old and she’s got this huge gap in her resume and no one wants to hire her and there’s a new baby, again, and she wishes she could just- oh, what’s the point? (And you hear a pill bottle rattling). It’s never going to get better, and there’s nothing you can tell me that’ll change anything. Sorry for wasting your time.

And she hung up, and never called again, and you can only hope, but never know, that she hadn’t taken the pills.

And though you felt like a hypocrite, the truth is, you really do believe the things you say. When you assure a caller that he’s not too demented to deserve to live, when you encourage his love for plants and say "staying alive just because no one else will love and take care of your plants the way you do isn't ridiculous, Lawrence. Tending to and watering your plants is a perfectly valid reason to live", you mean it. You do.

Somehow, none of the words you tell others seem to apply to you.

You don’t how many months or years pass like this, this blurry awful misery. The call with the anxious boy at the restaurant blends with the thousands you’ve gotten since then. You fought about- something, this morning, with your mother. Some biting remarks about you being an idiot or ungrateful, some mumbled apologies on your end, but when she calls you spoiled you remind her “you’re not doing me a favor by driving me to work- it’s not like driving me to a sleepover where I’m doing it for fun. This is our only source of income, and you can’t just not drive me, because who else is going to pay for a roof and a meal?”

Her face contorts, as it always does, to that indignant snarl. “You think I have to drive you? I don’t have to do anything. I don’t owe you anything. I’m your mother, it's your job to look after me. You can’t neglect me: that’s abuse.”

You sigh. Not mad. Not even irritated. Just... just whatever. “You do have to drop me off here, or else I miss a whole day’s pay and how am I going to cover your medical bills?” 

“Are you threatening me? How dare you?” She hisses, slamming on the pedal- to prove a point, driving past your workplace. 

“Slow down. I'm getting out.” At this point, at this age, you get fed up quickly, skipping right from fear to anger to just being done. You click open the door, scan the grey sidewalk blurring, passing by- slipping through your fingers, you think vaguely, like your life.

“Close the door, you moron, I’m not paying for your surgery if you split your skull open.”

“You couldn’t if you wanted to, but glad to know!” You gauge the ground, stick one leg out, the other one too, and-

Walk the distance left to work.

Sometimes, you can’t believe this is your life. You’d worked hard, damn it, and you’re a good person, so why isn’t the world good back to you? Why are you still stuck here, with her?

How immature, you think. How childish do you have to be to drive past your daughter's work- which you need, for money, for survial- just to spite her. And you know the moment she picks you up from work she'll be yelling through the car ride home, and then when you enter the apartment, and all through the night. Your coworkers often found working at a suicide hotline emotionally taxing, and looked forward to weekends and holidays as a break from the stress, but- for you, work was your safe haven.

As you talk down someone who's maybe ten minutes away from throwing themselves off a roof, your phone vibrates. Again. And again.

000-000-0000 Yesterday 10:15 PM if you go to sleep and die tonight, you're going to Hell Today 9:05 AM Why? Why are you doing this to me? Don't worry, I won't touch your money and I won't take anything from you. I won't even eat from the food we have anymore since it's all been bought with your money like you said Idk why you have been doing this You want me to stay miserable and under our control and do exactly what you want. Why are you doing this to me? Why? Why?

You don't have her saved as a contact, so you only see her phone number. It feels wrong to title her 'mom', when that word carries all these connotations of unconditional love and gently braiding your hair and a warm bowl of soup on a sick school day. She has nothing to do all day, is the thing, just rewatching Friends for the 60th time or knitting- so she texts you, and can get all worked up and have a full fight and conversation all by herself, without you needing to lift a finger. Simply existing, you think, is enough to warrant the torrent of abuse.

You get a call and shut off your phone, slipping right into your sweet, soothing voice as you greet a young girl with a razor in hand. You reassure her, hear her out (no, there's nothing wrong with wanting to leave, I understand you want to help him but if he's abusing you, you need to help yourself first), and transfer her to the employment assistance department, where they can help her set up her resume and cover letter and get out of living with him. Your break is spent in the bathroom doing breathing exercises to calm down, your lunch is spent mindlessly scrolling through Dead Dove: Do Not Eat recommendations, and you almost know what you're about to read before you turn on your phone.

000-000-0000 Today 4:18 PM Don't act like you are this innocent, sweet, little wonderful person You always do horrible thing so don't play this victim role again I'm exhausted of those games you keep playing Like when you were a baby, you'd cry in your room just to manipulate me into picking you up. I didn't fall for it obviously but you're still playing the same mind games Acting so pure and innocent Stop being so cruel and get back to your senses Once you are ready to apologize, maybe I'll pick you up from work. Otherwise have fun sleeping there

It's as good a chance as any, you decide. You had a bag under your desk for precisely this chance, but always chickened out at the last minute. But this is an opportunity to not be at home without her questioning it...

So you'd done it. You'd finally done it. The good thing about not having control over your own money- not even knowing the credit card number or the password for your account- is that you don't have very many things. Oh, you have clothes and little knick-knacks, but they're easy to pack. To zip up, to stuff snacks and-

You need your IDs. Your passport, your social security. She had them just a few weeks ago, but eventually, when she was in a good mood, you'd mustered up the courage to ask for them. Why do you need them? Just need to take a picture for this one job I'm applying to. It'll pay more than this one.

You'd tucked them into your bag too, and while most people would find it safer to store their things at home than at work, the space under your desk was guaranteed to remain untouched, while your bedroom didn't have a lock.

You don't know how to drive- she never taught you, and driver's lessons cost money you don't get to control- and public transport is spotty at best. You've never been fit, getting winded after five minutes of walking and legs aching after 10, and you realize quickly that this is inefficient and you've gotta find a way to at least be out of the city so you don't risk her finding you, somehow.

Where do the homeless, the elderly, the disabled, the lost go to for resources, go to be pointed in the right direction?

Actually, it would be the masjid, but you know your mother would go there.

You go to the library, sit down in a big, drooping bean bag chair, and breathe.

It was exhilarating. Scary and risky and dumb, yes, but what a relief! Finally, what you've been dreaming every single day for two decades, finally, you're no longer collared and leashed, finally, you get to start some flimsy attempt at being an independent adult, finally-

You need to open your own bank account. You click on one of the library monitors, leaning in to the computer and Googling banks. Chase. Schwab. Wells Fargo. Credit unions. Everyone has bad experiences with every bank, based on Reddit, but then one comment points out that all banks are the same. Just a place to keep your money, as long as you don't rack up overdraft fees or debt.

You'd actually tried opening your own bank account before, back in February, because this isn't the first time you've been hard-hit with the need to run away. You'd tried to sign up for Chime, which, ironically, while supposed to be for people who need money when in a tight position, had rejected your application- possibly for not having a credit score (?). Someone online too had posted that it's ironic the very site for people in a bind still wouldn't accept those who were, you know, actually in a bind.

You'd researched on banks without interests, found someone on Reddit asking it, and someone who worked at Schwab had detailed how to call someone and ask for a certain tier and walk them through giving a no-interest account.

It had been great. You signed up. You never verified it (or did you? You don't think you did), and now, when calling, they said they had closed your account because your social security number didn't match the other information, that you would have to take a W9 to a physical location so they can confirm your social and go from there.

You try to sign up for Chase, except it needs a driver's license or state ID, and you have neither. You try to sign up for Wells Fargo, but it needs a valid phone number, and you don't have a phone plan, only e-numbers, so it doesn't accept it.

You're almost tempted to ask a librarian. You'd seen posts about librarians helping someone who's drunk or unstable or homeless, but- they're not social workers. This isn't their job, you don't want to inconvenience them and it's- embarrassing. This is all so embarrassing. You're a grown adult, why don't you have everything together by now?

Ok. No bank account. Maybe you can use PayPal? Just for now? You'll need to afford public transportation, and a deposit for a new apartment- better to be with roommate, so you don't have to pay the $300 non-refundable application fee, to have to provide a reference from your previous landlord, so a roommate is necessary, non-negotiable, because your previous apartment...

It had been under your name, of course, since it's your income. But your mother was furious at them for charging one (or five?) thousand dollars, either for moving out before the lease was over or for the security deposit or whatever, but she insisted you stop taking out the trash. When she saw you trying to take a bag, she- well, she yelled as she always does. The bathroom and kitchen and everything were trashed, and you did your best to sweep up your room, your bathroom to hallway, to clean up-

But the kitchen was a mess, and the dining area (which was just the cats' area), had an overflowing litter box and a giant pile of dozens for overflowing, near-bursting trash bags. The smell was awful, fruit flies and all sorts hovering and buzzing and oozing everywhere, but your mother in her spite insisted to leave it untouched. That they should clean it up themselves.

So. No recommendation from that landlord, which means find a roommate who already has a lease, and then that new landlord can give you a recommendation when you get your own apartment.

How to find a roommate who'd take someone with not a single dollar- unemployed, now, since you were leaving the city with your job in it- nothing to offer, except maybe cooking and cleaning, which you hated as you find chores menial and redundant- why bother making your bed or folding your clothes when they'd be unfolded, your bed unmade, just some hours later? It doesn't make sense. It's a waste of time.

Cooking, too, feels tedious and unrewarding. An hour of cooking for ten minutes of eating? No thank you.

Your best bet is to get a job, and use that to get a roof over your head. Till then, all sorts of food banks and shelter can give you enough food in your stomach to keep your back upright enough, mind alive enough, to start the job-hunting agony.

But this job requires a driver's license and a personal vehicle, and this job requires you to be physically there in person, you'd apply to jobs all over so couldn't possibly be in all places at once. You sit in the library till your leg falls asleep, foot staticky, neck hunched over, finger cramping, mindlessly applying for 100 jobs, 200 jobs. Something has to give. Just statistically speaking, one of them has to respond.

Right? Right?

But the library closes too early, and cafes and restaurants close down too, and you can't exactly take refuge in a 24-7 convenience or grocery store.

You could try a fast food place, then? A bar?

Not a bar. Never a bar. Way too many stories about what happens to dumb, defenseless girls in a bar too late at night.

It's your first night out alone and you need a place to sleep, but the nearest shelter is an hour and a half of walking and you're just- you need to rest your eyes and wrists from hours of staring at the computer screen, need to sit down and eat and you're entering the first fast food restaurant you find. Electric blue and neon orange lights dazzle the windows and invite you in, a cracked black leather bench in the corner your beloved refuge. It's a little maddening, a little torturous, to sit and smell the grease and that fat and hear the sizzles and hisses but be unable to do a thing about the saliva pooling your mouth, coating your tongue. Your stomach grumbles, a dying whale, the aroma of cheap burgers and oily fries flooding your nostrils.

You're this close to burying your head in your hands and sobbing. Yes, you have snacks in your bag, but you'd grazed on them absently while running your job application marathon.

You've never been very good with hunger. While others around you can have just breakfast, lunch, and dinner- while they can sit at their 8-and-a-half-hour shift at work and eat only during the 30 minute lunch break, you were always eating at your desk. Answering emails, in between phone calls, you're always, constantly hungry. Nothing you eat ever seems to be enough- maybe because you don't actually eat sufficiently, don't eat enough in a day adequate enough to fulfill your needs- so your stomach always feels empty.

But now, it actually is empty, and the void makes it impossible to focus on anything but the hunger. To think rationally. To consider maybe shoplifting, and at least if they arrest you there'll be food in prison, right?

Right?

Your stomach groans again, as frustrated with your situation as you are, and you think you really will cry. The smell of the cheese, the meat, the cheap beer-

You didn't know this place sold beer.

It doesn't. You've seen the menu a million times. You lift your hand, eyes darting to catch the culprit-

The only other customer this late at night is a man seated at the bench before yours. You see him hunched over a gloriously loaded double-burger- the colors of pale green lettuce and bright red tomatoes enchant you, and a dollop of thick mayo dribbles down the flaky sesame-seed bun, splatting onto the crinkly paper wrapper on the shiny black table.

A slash of envy sears through you. You need that burger more than he does, need that large Styrofoam cup of soda with the cold condensation along its sides infinitely more than him, and you're hit with a desire to snatch it. You know, logically, you can't take him in a fight, but like. What do you have to lose?

He catches you staring.

If you weren't so hungry, you'd be embarrassed, even apologize, but as it is your eyes linger on the grease shining on his thick fingers, on the smear of too-orange cheese dashed along the corner of his lip.

He raises a slightly bushy, brown eyebrow. It's the same cheap beer brown of his eyes, which are a little wide, a little giddy. 

You squirm, uncomfortable, pinned by his gaze like a butterfly- a moth- to a corkboard. "You wan' some?" His mouth is a little full, but even so you catch the lilt of a German accent just beneath his voice.

"Oh, no, I-" heat smarts your face, but he interrupts you, jovial and inviting,

"Your stomach, I'm sure, begs to differ. Come on, I can order you whatever you like, bud."

Bud was... less harassing, less off-putting, than sweetheart or baby or the assorted nicknames drunken men hollered at anything with a rack and two legs. if you ignore his too-cheerful grin, the little manic glint and gleam of his eyes, the use of bud would put you at ease.

But you can't ignore it, and it doesn't, and you get to your feet to leave. "Thanks, but I'm okay. I'll just make some dinner at home."

"No need to be shy! It's okay to rely on the kindness of strangers," he stands up too, already ambling to the counter to order for you, "large fries, a vanilla shake, and a hearty double bacon cheeseburger for my new friend."

"Oh, um, I prefer chocolate, actually." You felt half-guilty for being picky, and half-incensed that he ordered for you without consulting. You don't even eat bacon. 

The cashier- her dreads tied back in a loose ponytail, her red shirt uniform with a crooked name tag- clicks her tongue. "So is it vanilla or chocolate?"

"Vanilla. Right, buddy?'' His grin is big and cheerful and encouraging, nudging, nagging. Almost instinctively, you find your shoulders rounding tighter, find your body curling to make yourself smaller. 

"Right."

He's- satisfied? Almost proud with the way he pats your shoulder, like you passed some unspoken test by deferring to his choice, rather than holding your ground. 

(Maybe it would've been better to fail it).

She rings up your (his, really) order, nails click-clacking as she types, Strade ripping the small slip of receipt and- it really is tiny, in his large palm, all thick fingers and brown hair curling over the back of his hand. When he crumples the paper, his veins sort of- do a kind of pulsing thing you think you like.

But you still don't like how he ordered for you, how he insisted on a flavor you don't prefer. You know it was intentional.

You just can't figure out why.

He picks up the navy tray for you, and that irks you, too: why don't you get to carry your own food? What, is he going to hand-feed you too?

You sit across from him, and when you unwrap the yellow-and-white checkered paper, scrunching it up- the combined scent of the fat and oil and meat is enough to haze over any apprehension, any irritation you might have had, quelled by knowing this sandwich- large enough you pick it up with both hands- is for you. 

You pluck out a strip of crispy bacon and offer it to him, a sort of olive branch. He takes it- thumb and forefinger pinching it, and smiles lazily.

"I haven't seen you here before."

"Yeah." You bite into the sandwich, not elaborating. No need to. If you could, you'd maybe nick his credit card- it wouldn't be nice considering he just fed you for the night, but you could stick it in an ATM, get the cash out before he calls the bank to close the card, and- he'd be fine. He'll be fine. You need the money more than he does. But how to pickpocket without him noticing-?

"Something bothering you?" He asks, dipping a long, limp fry into a shallow well of thick ranch. "It's easier to talk about it to a stranger, you know? That way you don't have to worry about it changing your relationship with them, or their judgment, because you won't see them again."

"Hm." It was a good point. But if you've never told anyone else about it, were you really about to trauma dump to some eccentric stranger? 

"I don't mind, really, and I can tell you need it."

"Oh, yeah? How?"

"Something about it in the eyes."

"You really wanna know?"

"Of course, buddy, I'm all ears. I love helping people!"

"Fine." You smack your hands flat on the table, get up, and sit next to him. Up close, the musk of cheap beer mixes with sweat and grease in the world's strangest cologne.

You glare at your phone, click it on, and let him read over your shoulder.

000-000-0000 Today 2:04 AM It's all about you and if something doesn't go like how your majesty wants or likes then it's all bad I'm not a fan of drama and I can't tolerate entitled brats like you who thinks the world owes them something just for breathing Guess what? You are the abusive one and always have been. From this point on I will not take orders from you You have no idea how hard it is to be your mother. I sacrificed my LIFE for you. Do you know how painful it is to give birth? Every day I was pregnant with you was torture, and it as even worse when you were born. I had to stay up all day feeding you and all night putting you to sleep. You were a NIGHTMARE. I thought you'd grow out of it but I guess you're still a baby I have done so much for you and I have been through so much and you have no idea

He reads quietly- thinking, analyzing- and breaks into a positively delighted smile. You can't tell if it's the grin a groom dons on his wedding day or the grin a dog bares before cornering its prey. "Oh, mein schätzelein. You're perfect."

You eat in amicable company, and it's- nice. It is lovely, actually, to have dinner with someone you're not scared of, someone you don't have to worry about setting off or angering or harming you. Strade is- a little weird, sure, but a nice guy. You give him your bacon, he gives you a ketchup packet to squeeze onto your fries, and you let him scroll through days and weeks of your mother's texts and felt a twinge of validation every time he said something like "can't blame you for running away", a rush of satisfaction, of vindication, of it's not just me, I'm not crazy, she really is abusive, it wasn't just me being entitled after all. You find yourself inching a little closer to him every time he makes a remark like, "isn't she aware it's her job to take care of you, not the other way around?"

Something incredible blooms between your rib cage and behind it, making your cheeks flush and your fingertips tingle and your eyes sting just a bit. No one had ever bothered to hear you out, to just sit there and make biting, almost cruel comments about your mother with every text he read, to make you feel so important. You half-wish you could work up the courage, could be bold enough to tell him that you didn't have a place to put your head down tonight, just so he could offer, just so you could have an excuse to spend more time with him.

You sweep up the trash and crumpled straw wrappers while he returns his tray and yours and it's wonderful. Even if you can't go home with him, you almost want to make this a routine, make it so you can meet up every week, on a melancholy evening like this, and exchange bad food while he listens and provides a (strong, broad) shoulder.

He's just such a good listener.

~~~~

Author's notes:

Mein Schätzelein = My little treasure The parallel of the chapter starting with Ren thinking and feeling the exact same way MC does at the end of the chapter,,, buckle in folks Look, basically I want 1) to torture strade and 2) to save ren. However there's pretty much zero (0) fics about it so that means rolling up my sleeves, learning how to do the work skin that lets me insert phone-texting into the chapter, and doing it myself. Comment whatever thoughts you have and thanks for reading <33 ~~~ Also, while we're all little freaks that might enjoy a bit of horror, a quick reminder that in real life there's actual horrors going in the world- specifically, the genocide Palestine. Please take a moment to email and/or call your representatives , click-to-donate (free, donation revenue via ads), check out the boycott list, do what little things you can to help.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

How the gang are when there first in love/ in a relationship

Summary: The Outsiders in the honeymoon phase. Warnings: bad relationships (only because they don't know what they're doing) Author's Note: not quite sure what this ask meant but i tried my best lol

PONYBOY CURTIS Being in a relationship with Ponyboy is like always being in the puppy love phase. Because you both are so young, you don't really understand how 'true relationships' work. He's taking you on dates and stuff but you two have never had any serious issue because its not a super serious relationship and you two never have much to fight about. When you first start dating he's always picking flowers for you, and although that slows over time the sentiment never fades and he always has the 'couple aesthetic' in mind, i.e. doing things that he would see other couples do just for the sake of looking like a couple and acting like one. JOHNNY CADE Being in a relationship with Johnny is hard, he's vunerable but also emotionally unavalible at the same time. But he tries his best to be a good boyfriend, especially at the beginning of the relationship. He doesn't take you on 'dates' per say, rather shows up at your house or where you're hanging out when he has free time, you two will just chat for a while or fall asleep. He doesn't want to introduce the gang to you, he feels as if its a part of him he doesn't want you to see yet, and your a part of him that he doesn't want the gang to see. SODAPOP CURTIS Soda has been in only a couple of relationships, despite his charm, and they were usually playground relationships, things that sparked in elementary because of silly reasons. He has a lot of trust issues, especially from Sandy, and he's always hesitant when starting a relationship and even taking the relationship up a notch. Because of that, he's a little more reserved when you're dating, but sometimes he can break out of his shell and be calm and relaxed around you. STEVE RANDLE Steve's been in plenty of relationships, mostly when he was in middle school and beginning of highschool and they never usually meant much.

He's always tried to put in a little effort, he's just not sure what he needs to do, especially because there aren't many good relationship models around him. He tries to bring you flowers once and a while, and get you gifts and small outings, but beyond that he doesn't understand. There's always a lack of communication and sometimes feelings are hurt. TWO BIT MATHEWS Two Bit is always looking for a girlfriend, he likes the idea of it. He has very high standards and expects you to know what he wants immedietly. He's always very open about things, especially his family life because he loves them a lot. You also get to meet his sister pretty early on in the relationship. Expect a lot of joke-making, that's his personality. He's got a whole load of jokes stacked up in his mind for the right time and place. P.S. please laugh or he will get sad. DARRY CURTIS Darry really tries hard to be the best he can in a relationship. But he's balancing a lot of things mentally and sometimes he gets overwhelmed. He never takes his anger out on you but he does drift away with out reason until you seek him out, which isn't a really healthy way to maintain a relationship. Regardless, you tell him that you'll give him space when he needs but he must tell you that he wants it or else both parties are going to be hurt. He understands and tries his best from then on. DALLAS WINSTON I love him, but he's going to be a shit boyfriend. Especially after all the things went down with Sylvia, he's got loads of trust issues too. Always making sure you don't talk to anyone that he doesn't fuck with. He get's very possessive and jealous, but he doesn't fight others like a lot of people think but instead takes it out on you. He gets really pissed a lot of the time and you guys take a lot of breaks early in the relationship. He'll only let you wear his St. Christopher once he trusts you enough, he says it's because you could run off with them or something. It's really hard to win his trust but with enough time you do it.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Remembrance of Things Past: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fearing for your life

Summary: Someone leaves an unmarked package by your door that sends you into a spiral of fear. Meanwhile, the team joins forces with Virginia police on a case Rossi was on decades earlier, one that he will have to go back into in order to figure out the one that's staring at him in the face.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

The detective pulls up the email he got on the big computer and plays the message his daughter left for him before she died.

"Mom, Dad, this is Heather. When you get this message, I'll probably be dead. Tomorrow you're going to find me," she starts crying, "and when you do, please know that I... I enjoyed it."

"I enjoyed it. That's his signature. It's him," Rossi says.

"Agent Rossi, I need to give the press a statement."

"Not yet."

"It's already leaked out that this is the Butcher and his son."

"Fix your faucet and tell your men to be quiet," Rossi glares.

"Look, people are scared. This guy has spent a decade terrorizing this area—"

"You think I don't know that?" Rossi cuts him off.

The Detective sighs and leaves the room to do what Rossi told him to do.

"We need to figure out why he's back, like BTK or the Grim Sleeper. Let's go over victimology one more time," Hotch says.

"He kills blondes who are living on their own. He takes them from public places with some form of ruse. He's reenacting his last kill for what reason?"

"Maybe there's something symbolic about the last kill. Let's hear her call again."

"Maybe we should take a look at the victims that didn't call anybody. There were thirteen recording messages and five documented conversations with loved ones," Spencer suggests. "There were twenty kills. Two victims didn't call anyone."

"I just assumed those victims couldn't reach anyone," Rossi frowns.

"Let's pull the files of the victims that didn't leave a message. Reid might be onto something."

It doesn't take long for Penelope to pull all the files from the archives before sending them over. Detective Green has hard copies that the previous officers left behind, and he brings those boxes in for everyone to look through as well.

"So, Sylvia was the Butcher's first kill. Karen was his eighth. Why weren't they forced to make phone calls?"

"Sylvia was his first kill. He was building up his confidence. Then, he thinks to himself, how can I hurt the most people? I'll have them make calls."

"Six women after that made the phone calls. Why did he stop at Karen?" Hotch looks at the desk phone that is still connected to Penelope. "Garcia, what are Karen's parents' names?"

"George and Claire Bachner died in a car accident when Karen was nineteen."

"My notes say Karen had a husband named Lee Mullens," Rossi says. "He didn't receive a call. When I interviewed him at the station, he said he didn't have an answering machine."

"Do they have a child?"

"Negative," Penelope answers.

"Wait a minute. They had a son. I wrote it down." Rossi flips through his own notes. "Colby."

"Garcia, run Karen's maiden name. Bachner."

It doesn't take her even a minute to pull up the information.

"Oh! There it is! Karen had a son, Colby Bachner, born at Johnson Memorial in Bristol, Virginia."

"Was the father there to sign the birth certificate?" Hotch asks.

"Yes. His name was... Lee Mullens. Oh. Karen had Colby two years before she and Lee were married."

"Are the father or son still in the area?"

"Yeah. Lee and Colby live at 1844 Shadow Wood Lane which is six miles from where the victims were dumped."

"So, maybe Karen never made a phone call because the most important person in her life was already in the room with her--her son," you theorize.

"Oh, hell no. They're licensed electricians," Penelope gasps.

"Let's go."

You leave the police station and head to the Butcher's house where it's unusually quiet. Derek and Emily head around back with some officers where an RV sits, and you approach the front of the house with Rossi. You look at the attic window and narrow your eyes in suspicion. You tap Rossi's shoulders and point to the window with a nod. He understands that you're saying that someone is up there whether that be the Butcher himself or his son.

You follow Hotch and Rossi inside the house with officers right behind you. You come around the corner and see someone standing on the stairs holding a picture in his hands. He's an older gentleman and looks harmless but you can feel twenty victims' energies all over the man. This is the Butcher.

"FBI. Don't move," Hotch says.

"Put your hands in the air!"

"What are you doing here?" Lee asks. "Why are you here? My son isn't here."

"You're under arrest for the murders of Chloe Moore, Reilly Gold, and Sylvia Marks," Rossi glares and moves closer to Lee.

"I don't know them. Please, I need to call someone."

"You can call from the station."

"Rossi, wait," you say.

Right as Rossi touches the bottom stair, the older man looks down nervously at his pelvis. Wetness spreads from the middle of his pants toward the ground. He's peeing himself. This man... something isn't right. You can't bring him in when he's like this so Rossi opts to keep him in the living room after getting him a fresh change of pants to wear. The rest of the team searches the house but his son isn't there.

The only thing that will incriminate them is a shallow grave in the front of the house with a woman's body in it. Whoever dug it didn't care about keeping her well hidden. He just wanted her out of sight. The thing that Rossi was hoping for was Lee's twenty victims being here but besides the woman in the front lawn, no other person has been here in a long time.

When they've killed, they did it somewhere else.

"We checked the house. There's no torture chamber and no son. There's a fresh grave in the backyard, and Colby left a note saying he was going to find a prize," Emily says.

"Garcia, check Mullens' records and see if he owns any other property. Check under the son's name, employment records, and anything else you can find," Hotch says to her over the phone.

"Got it."

"Guys. I think I found something," Spencer says from the kitchen.

"Morgan, let's get all the police cars out of the neighborhood in case the son comes back."

Derek leaves and you walk to the kitchen with Hotch and Rossi.

"Everything in the house is labeled. I found Donepezil and flashcards in the medicine cabinet."

"Donepezil? Doesn't that treat Alzheimer's?"

"It's a cholinesterase inhibitor. It improves acetylcholine either by increasing levels in the brain or enhancing nerve cells' response to it."

"So, this guy gets to forget while the family has to live with this forever?" Rossi asks and scoffs.

"Alzheimer's affects short-term memory before it affects long-term. That explains the scripted phone calls and the dump sites."

"It also explains why he started up again," you say. "He's repeating his last kill because he can't remember it. He's killed for over ten years. He probably remembers the earliest victims."

Derek walks back into the kitchen.

"What did you find?"

"He's got slides of all the prior abduction sites."

"Do you want me to go in with you?" Hotch asks Rossi.

"I've got this."

Rossi walks into the living room while you stand in the archway and watch them.

"We met twenty years ago. Do you remember that, Mullens? You played the grieving husband. I was a young FBI Agent." Rossi shows him pictures of his earlier victims. "Do you remember these women?"

"I don't know them."

"Of course, you do. You wouldn't have forgotten them yet. Tell me, where is your son? Where is he taking your next victim? To a friend's place? To an abandoned house?"

"I rewired this house."

"Did he help you with that? Or did you do that on your own? Like you did... all of these?"

Rossi takes out some more pictures and places them on the table.

"Are those your trophies?" Lee asks.

"What do you know about trophies?"

"I like trophies. It proves you won something."

"You're not gonna win today," Rossi glares.

"I'm scared."

"You don't have a right to be scared. Those women were scared. Now, where's your son?" Lee doesn't answer. "It must be hard to lose your mind. You start forgetting how to feed yourself. Soon you're stinking up your pants and wearing diapers."

"I ain't wearing no diaper," Lee growls.

"You peed into your boxers ten minutes ago. You need them now. So, how did you get your son to do all this? Did you get him to help you to kill your wife?"

"Karen left us."

"No, that's what you convinced him. You killed her when she figured you out. You took her to a chamber, the same place you took Heather Langley, Kara Kirkland, and Sylvia Marks."

"Sylvia's a pretty name," Lee chuckles.

"She graduated from Georgetown. She wanted to be a chemist, but you burned her so bad that her family couldn't recognize her. How did you do that? Did you use a fire poker or a curling iron? Something you made? Something you bought?"

"When she saw the Lexwell, her eyes went so wide, she scared me half to death," Lee smiles at the memory.

"Find out what that is," Hotch says to the team having heard the same thing you did.

You step off to the side and call Penelope.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I heard what happened this morning."

"Oh, yeah, that. We'll talk about it later, okay? Listen, I need something. What can you tell me about the name Lexwell?"

"Lexwell is a camera manufacturer based out of New York. They've been around since the forties."

You walk to the team who are huddled together and put Penelope on speakerphone.

"Have they always produced photography equipment?"

"Back in the day, they made electroshock therapy equipment."

"That's the unknown object penetrating our victims," you say.

"Garcia, what mental hospitals in Virginia use ECT machines?"

"Five hospitals use Lexwell equipment. Of those five, three have been torn down and two are still in operation."

"Cross-check that list of hospitals against Mullens' electrical business client list."

"Yeah, I'm already doing that. Mullens wired some buildings at the Oakton Center back in the eighties."

"Do you know that place?" Derek asks the detective.

"It's a former mental institution on eighty-six acres."

"He's right. Two of the buildings are still in operation. The rest of the place is abandoned."

"Thanks, baby girl."

Hotch knocks on the wall which catches Rossi's attention, and the older agent leaves the living room.

"Where are you going?" Lee asks.

You don't waste time getting to the abandoned hospital. The closer you get to it, the more you see wisps of energy dancing in front of the hospital.

"He already has another victim. I can see her energy."

"Find her," Rossi urges.

He doesn't hesitate to follow you as you run through the hospital grounds with urgency. You pass by building after building until you get to the back of the property where five buildings stand. You pause and look around the place and that's when you spot it. Blue energy seeps up from one of the sewer gates by the first building.

"She's in the basement of that one," you point.

Hotch and Rossi are first to get down there while the rest follow suit. You peer around their shoulders to see a blonde woman on some medical table with black tape over her naked chest. Colby is pacing next to the table with a knife in his hand. He is beyond stressed, unable to live up to his father's expectations.

"Colby." The young man snaps his head up and places the knife to the woman's throat when he sees the FBI. "Put the knife down."

"I'll kill her."

"The killing is done."

"Please help me," the woman cries.

"This is not your fault, Colby. Your father got you into this."

"No, you don't know my dad!"

"We know you're losing him, Colby. This isn't going to help you or him."

"He's getting better."

"No, he isn't." You push past them and take the center position. Colby's wide eyes land on yours but you don't move any closer to him. "I know that scares you because you already lost your mother."

"She left us!" he screams at you.

"Your father killed her."

Colby shakes his head as tears roll down his cheeks.

"No, no, no. You're wrong!"

"You were ten. He strapped her to this table. Your father brought her here. You might have been in the car or upstairs. You blocked it out because I know you love him. You love him and you didn't want to see what he is truly capable of. He's supposed to be your dad. He's supposed to love you and care for you." Colby is full-on crying now but he still has the knife to her throat. "He most likely knocked your mother out at home and brought her here."

"No, I helped him bring the only woman here from that house."

"That was your mother, Colby."

"No, she left us," his voice breaks.

"Every one of your father's victims made a call except for your mother because she laid on this table and said goodbye to you right here."

"No, she's not dead," he cries. "She left us. She... She left us!"

"You don't want to hurt her, Colby. You never wanted to hurt any of them."

Colby sobs as he tosses the knife away from the woman. Rossi and Hotch immediately handcuff him while Derek and Emily help the woman who is also crying. The woman is brought to the paramedics once they come and the detective brings Colby back to the station to start the process of his arrest. You stand off to the side with your arms crossed over each other. Spencer, Derek, and Emily join your side and watch the paramedics do their job.

"You know, parents are supposed to protect their children. They're supposed to love them and keep them safe," you say.

"Well, sometimes they don't get the memo," Emily responds.

******

Frank leans back in his chair with his feet up on the dollar store fold-up table he got yesterday. The phone is pressed to his ear since he's talking to his wife while keeping a close eye on the cameras he installed in your apartment. You and Spencer are going about your nightly routine, nothing major happening here.

What he did to you sent you into a paralyzing fear so much so that you started looking for a camera to put on the outside of your apartment. It's a good thing he already planted the ones inside your place. You say you have this magical gift that can tell you anything you want to know so why can't you figure out who he is? When will you? Will you ever? As much as he cherishes you, you're becoming too much of a liability to keep in his life. He should have gotten rid of you when he was supposed to but you were and always will be his favorite toy. He must play with you one last time before taking you out.

"You should have been there, Clarissa. She went crying to Daddy about the fake bomb I put in front of her door. You should have seen the look on her face. She was so scared," he laughs. "Even racked with fear, she still looked... so cute."

"Please be careful, Frank. You're playing with fire."

"I'm only getting started," he smirks.

"When I was younger I could remember anything, whether it happened or not; but my faculties are decaying now, and soon I shall be so I cannot remember any but the latter. It is sad to go to pieces like this, but we all have to do it." – Mark Twain

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[mylittlegemlins]

Spy x family hurt/comfort ideas for destroy your soul:

-loid and yor are expecting a child, anya is jealous that they don't love her as much as their own child.

-Loid, speaking seriously with Sylvia: " fuck it, I'm going to keep them and if you want me to continue being your star spy, you're going to give me missions that don't involve falling in love with women or adopting children, one is enough for me. "

-Loid thinks about the joy his wife and daughter bring him: God, when was the last time I did something just for… fun? Why I didn't do it befo-... oh right... This is a mission

-Loid wonders how Yor had never dated anyone until she was 27, then Yor interprets something very literal and Loid thinks, oh that's why.

-Since Loid saw that Anya had too much stress after the sandbox test, he is very worried about her mental health. Anya stares into space because she's busy thinking about what he thought. But he thinks that the poor girl she is dissociating due to a trauma and he tries to repair her with kisses and hugs.

-The mission ends on the night of a full moon, so Anya has no idea if her father plans to get rid of them, or how, or when, she just stays close to her parents for as long as she can.

-Yor begins to question if she is going to be married to Loid until death do them part, since she barely knows Loid... Well, she knows him a little... For a year... But she is not sure of her feelings for him.

- -Loid finally decides to take Anya to the doctor because bleeding from the nose every time you get overwhelmed by loud noises might not be normal. Anya is just terrified that the doctors will open her brain and see that she has her powers, somehow. he also discovers that she is very low in weight and height for her age and worries even more.

-you love me? Direct question to destroy the heart of the best spy in the country, especially if it comes from a child, especially if it comes from an orphan, especially if it comes from his daughter who has never lived more than 4 months with an adoptive family because they did not get attached to her. Answer honestly, she will know if you lie.

-The Strix mission ended. Loid abandons Anya and breaks up with Yor without much explanation. only to regret it 15 minutes later and run to find them.

-Anya obtains 7 tonitrus having already 7 stellas. And she knows that expulsion is closer than the prize. So she runs away from home.

- Anya is finally ready to tell Loid a little about her birth mother and the orphanage, and it hurts.

-Anya never had a birthday party because there was no budget at the orphanage. Loid is able to hiring even the boys who cry if that makes his daughter happy

-Yor is hospitalized due to a fight and telling your husband that you have appendicitis is easier than explaining to him that some criminals shot you 3 times in the hip and who the hell you're still alive.

-Bond has to bite one Forger to save them from some imminent danger he predicted but the rest of the family panics and gets very angry with Bond.

-"If you keep getting close to dangerous guys you are going to get really hurt one day." Ergo, Anya gets hurt.

-Did you know that adoptable children in real life know that their chances of being adopted go down as they grow older because most only adopt babies? Anya knows it.

-Loid and Yor have no choice but to sleep together because their daughter is terribly ill in the hospital and her last wish is to sleep with them together. Or she actually has a common cold and they took her to the emergency room because they panicked when her fever went up 0.1 degrees.

- Damian wants to hang out with Anya but he would never let Emilie and Ewen find out.

-Loid comforting Anya during an anxiety attack because he thinks it's because of her past and only he knows.

-Instead of directly saying that he wants to keep his family or give up being a spy, he begins by extending the mission for 4 more months, and then another 4 more. And when he realizes 4 years have passed.

-Yor asks Loid about his dead ex-wife because they will never go to leave her flowers or he doesn't have old photos of her and baby Anya. Loid has many photos to fake.

T/W torture

-Anya biological father is a voluteer or one of the scientist because she was made by artificial insemination so that she was born, Anya's mother was kidnapped from a rural town where her language was almost extinct.

-The scientists remove Anya's mother's tongue so that she cannot communicate with her other than through her telepathy.

-The scientists being really mad the first time that her powers didn't work during the full moon.

-Still has nightmares about the electroshock in the laboratory every time she failed the tests. Her parents try to console her but she can't tell them anything, even if she wants. still hurts.

[pumpkinsy0]

can you make headcanons of the gang learning creole from the shepards??

anon,,,r u,,,,🇭🇹🇭🇹🇭🇹🇭🇹???🤨🤨 /lh

BUT OF COURSE!!!! the gateway to get me to answer any ask is to make it about the shepards and them being haitian i swear

•ponys already ahead of most of em bc he hangs out w curly a lot, hes picked up a few words and phrases

•i already hc that darry knows french bc he learned it in school so hes like the one having the least amount of problems w learing kreyòl

•if u didnt know, kreyòl has some words from spanish and african languages and i hc johnny to be half mexican and steve is african so sometimes they recognize it and theyre like that one wojack of that guy pointing

•im gonna be so fr its rlly only tim taking it seriously and teaching em, angelas only teaching them bad words and curlys flirting w pony, stupid ik but its happening much to the dismay of literally everyone

•when it comes to kreyòl, how u say it is how its spelled and two bit swore he would get this shit the first try and then he didnt, he barely getting it on his tenth bc he had to be explained that its said how its spelled using the HAITIAN alphabet, he was just using the regular ass alphabet the whole time

•then it opened up an argument of “then its not rlly said how its spelled” w two bit and literally everyone else but we’ll ignore that

•darry learned french in high school and he was barely grasping that fuck ass gendered language bc why is a table a girl, and he was so mentally prepared to have to do the same w kreyòl but when tim told him kreyòl isnt gendered and its rlly only context based so to say “he, she, it” is “li” and to say “they” in plural is “yo” , ik he jumped for joy, he was so tired

•back to kreyòl being spelled how u say it, when pony learned that curlys heart jumped to his ass cause ponyb started writing down what curly said and asking tim to translate, everytime he gets caught tim just gives him a look and curly pretends hes smug about it but he is not, hes shitting his pants as we speak

•i hc dallas to be russian and he already has a BIT of an accent when speaking english but when it comes to him actually talking in kreyòl its even more obvious cause ur not rlly supposed to pronounce the r’s but he literally keeps on doing it over and over somewhat in a russian accent on accident, and now tim just chuckles a bit when dally speaks kreyòl

•also i JUST remembered i also hc sylvia as haitian, so dallys also getting some help from her but also hes learning kreyòl bc he wants to know wtf she says under her breath when theyre in arguments

•i would say also bc he wants to know what tim says in arguments, but tim will gladly translate for him, however also some insult r just,meant for kreyòl, it literally only hits hard in kreyòl so he doesnt rlly translate those ones, but when he tells sylvia she laughs at dally and tells him what it means

•she also giggles at dally speaking kreyòl hes getting bullied at every angle

•i say this w sm love but dally and soda cant rlly read all that well, they were those kids that took a bit of time reading during popcorn reading and yknow what, no hate about that here, still love em the same, but sometimes tim lets them read something in kreyòl and theyre stuttering SO bad

•i joke about pony not knowing shit in kreyòl, but pony and curly speaking in kreyòl to each other guys,,,pls,,listen to me here,,,,i need it</333

•angela taught them some songs in kreyòl ill hold onto this hc till i die

okok im stopping myself here before this gets any longer but pls know i will be going insane about this later

[youngtomhardy]

single no. 3 ‘kiss kiss bang bang’ is out now 💋💥

this one might be the most important part of the MM2 story. this song was born the night i died. you can literally google ‘michael medrano kiss kiss bang bang’ and find the night i conceptualized this song — and the whole era really.

grief is incredibly hard to process, especially when it’s sudden and swift. i was in the room with people i thought were going to change my life forever. i wasn’t exactly poor growing up, but my family struggled for as long as i can remember. i moved 4 times, my dad worked his ass off and we still couldn’t afford to live somewhere comfortably. this caused turmoil and constant instability in my household, which in turn led to some really traumatic times i wish i could forget.

so when you end up in this kitschy club with incredibly successful and wealthy people, you suddenly feel wow… the struggle is over. i’ll finally get to take care of my family. they’ll never have to abruptly move again or live under a landlord who won’t even fix a broken fridge. i can take care of myself and everyone i love — i can have it all. and i’m about to sign the paper that puts it all in motion.

i remember my creative director at the time kept telling me to “never forget how incredible” i am. over and over again. going as far to call me “the next weeknd”. it was in that moment, high off of a shroom pill, i knew they’d killed me. my project was dead. and before i could wrap my head around it, i found myself sitting in the corner of a dingy karaoke suite watching it all end in slow motion. in my mind, i like to pretend it was more of a penthouse suite decorated to look like a humble, midcentury modern dream. they did go all out and get the most expensive suite anyway, as they always had.

the next day, everyone goes silent on me. texts aren’t replied to anymore. resources are cut off. album plans gone. the mystical “sylvia” i’ve been told so much about had vanished. it is probably the most devastating heartbreak i’ve gone through right next to my mom initially rejecting me once i was outed… a story for another time.

so i sat down in my tiny hometown apartment. and cried. drove to literally nowhere screaming at 3 am. praying that maybe they’d come back around and save me. but no one was coming — i was in free fall. alone again and so suddenly, like a rug pulled from under me or gunshot to the head. after months of the endless spiral, i got back to working a regular part time job, hating this life i was once again trapped in. but one day, after all that grief welled up inside me, i started writing again. and writing. and writing. and writing. i’d never been so angry in my life. i’d also never been so fucking determined. and now, here we are. 3 years later. 3 singles deep into MM2. and so much has changed.

never did i think id be sitting in the middle of hollywood in my new apartment, typing this and pulling and all-nighter to get the music video out to over 100k fans listening to me every month. my little guy abel laying next to me while my partner hacks away at editing.

i might not have the deal yet. i might not have the money or the team yet. but i woke up from the nightmare one day and you were all right there in front of me. i love you all so much and i hope you love this song as much as i do. MM2 is coming and i hope you’re ready, because i finally am.