#i have literally been the only one there for them then the second i say i feel under appreciated it’s suddenly “i’ve actually been feeling

[a1ecmcdowell]

dean winchester x angel!reader — innocence is a virtue.

or, how on earth is he supposed to corrupt you? you? or, dean's newest passenger princess is killing him slowly and violently.

cw, fluff but with sexual elements. mostly fluffy though. reckless driving DO NOTTT do this!! professionals only!! dirty minded!dean. honestly just horny!dean really. innuendos galore.

word count : 2.9k

notes, guys can i be so honest i have not even gotten to the seasons where angels come into spn. this is all based on the lil bits n pieces i know of the future stuff ok. ik i'm a fraud but BE GENTLE IF IT'S OOC OR ANYTHING < /3

req. by anon & in honor of kas's dean & angel fics bc i LOVEEE them

★ ˚⋆

dean, honestly, had never met someone quite like you. when he'd told cas in passing that he was about the most naive, innocent thing he'd ever met, all he did was give him one of those looks he reserved only for dean. he thought, then, that it was just because he was being a bit of a shithead, and cas was telling him without telling him so.

very quickly, he found out how wrong he was about both of his assessments.

the day you came down to earth and graced everyone, literally, with your presence, dean was smitten. never before had he met someone so sweet. so honestly pure. until you, he thought that purity was nothing but an ideology based on impossible feats. a pipe dream and a half for the faithful. no, the reality was that he just hadn't met you yet.

sam was pouring himself into research, too focused to realize that dean was all but whittling away in his starvation, so when he offered to go grab some cheap shit from the diner a few minutes from the motel, all he got in response was a mumble of agreement and a wave of his hand from him.

but you, who'd been sitting on the motel bed, stiff as if you had something stuck up your ass holding you in place, turned to him and asked to come with. that struck dean off kilter immediately, because he hadn't been asked for anything in a long ass while. sam just usually assumed he'd be writing shotgun wherever they went. john — no, he'd never ask his son anything, usually buried that sentiment in harsh demands and orders. cas asked him lots of questions, but permission was not often one of them.

and when he looked at you, read over your features and saw the genuineness in your wide, expectant eyes... god, how could he say no?

so you sat there in the passenger seat. dean had to buckle you in with a joke that flew right over your head — another joke you would not get, even though he was fucking killing it with them right now — about not wanting to send you flying if they got into a wreck.

you proceeded to unbuckle and buckle and unbuckle again a few times, seemingly fascinated with the click of the mechanism. dean wanted to be annoyed. genuinely. if sam had started pulling this shit, dean would have pulled over and drove a few feet ahead as a warning to cut it the fuck out.

but with you, it was adorable in its own right. god, it was! somehow it surprised you, every time it clicked, even if you'd already done it eight times. like, how did anyone expect him to get pissy at you when you were doing those sharp, surprised gasps every few seconds? a few more times and he'd be pulling over to give you something to gasp at, he thought idly.

and then winced, scrunching up his face, when he realized how deep in the gutter his head was. no, he wouldn't touch you. wouldn't even try to plant that idea in your pretty little head.

dean didn't want to corrupt you. if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he wanted to keep that pretty little head as clear as his nose was, alright? he wasn't going to be the one to break you into what this world was, its hardships and its cruelties — and its more deviant pleasures.

but fuck, you made it so hard to keep his head straight.

you did this thing, he realized too, on that silent, clicky drive, where you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth when you were in deep thought. thought about what, fuck if he knew, because if you said something to him in the moments that he watched you do it, he'd never know. he was watching your mouth but not to listen.

dean was about to start reprimanding himself in his head, for what must have been the third time already, when you said something, nearly making him slam on the brakes in his surprise.

"how are you doing this?" you asked, as if that wasn't the vaguest question he'd heard in his entire life.

dean blinked a couple of times as he waited for elaboration that never came. he switched hands on the steering wheel, resting his right loosely over the gearstick. "doing..." he trailed off, shaking his head slowly in a gesture to make you keep talking, "what, exactly?"

you did not catch the hint, and he was probably a fool for expecting you to. it took a few more seconds of you staring very intently at his thighs for you to speak up, and by then, he was fucking squirming in his leather seat, trying to not let it get to either of his heads that you were so blatantly staring at his dick.

"this," you answered, twinges of frustration evident in your tone. he couldn't blame you. he was getting frustrated in this car ride, too. "making it move."

christ. he was going to hell. he was going to hell again, this time because of his own drifting thoughts.

"you're gonna have to be a little more clear, dove," he managed through his teeth, voice strained, "'cause i don't think we are on the same train of thought right now."

another blink, and another few seconds pass. your hand shot up in his direction and he flinched, honestly flinched, convinced from the filthy thoughts circling in his head that you were about to grab him by the—

"this," you repeated, and he almost bristled at the attitude, almost told you off about virtues or whatever, when he finally got it. your arm stuck out in gesture to his legs, which pushed the gas pedal and rested against the doorframe, as he drove.

dean closed his eyes briefly, metaphorically swapping his metaphorical wrist for his headspace. he was not, was not, the person that should be introducing you to this world.

dean shifted again, bringing his left leg closer to the leather seat as he readjusted into more of a comfortable position. he hadn't even realized how tense he'd gotten on this short car ride until now. he was as straight backed as you were, and breathing just as slow. "driving?" he asked anyways, like an idiot.

"driving..." you repeated, like the word was as fascinating to you as the process was. "how?"

the diner sign was right there. it was teal and glowed, retro in style, announcing benny's bistro as open.

he drove past it.

dean knew that you did not sign up for a driver's ed course with him with your question, knew even more that he was risking his baby for a pathetic attempt at flirting with someone who did not even know the definition of the word, but to hell with it. you'd asked to come along with him, and therefore placed yourself in his hands for his guidance. the least he could do was make some sort of effort, couldn't he?

"c'mere," he grumbled once he'd pulled baby off into an unassuming back road, parking it dead in the center. you'd need all the open space. he patted his spread thighs a couple of times.

your stupidly pretty pink lips sucked into your stupidly straight teeth. fuck. "why?"

"just—" he cut himself off when he realized he was about to get snippy. you didn't deserve snippy. he was just hungry and horny and you were pretty and he was...

he was pathetic. looking for reasons to get you into his lap. he'd already been to hell, what are they gonna do, drag him back by his ear?

"just do it," dean finished on a sigh, his hand dropping to the front of his leather seat, grabbing the handle and shoving the seat back as far as it could go. there you were, staring at his dick again, making him feel hotter and more bothered.

he felt his heart stop solidly in his chest when you started to climb over the middle console, so oblivious to the faceful of ass he was getting. dean was practically praying to god at that point. he knew he'd been a shit until then, and definitely a sinner by every means, but if he could grant him a little fucking strength—

you plopped your happy little ass right between his muscular, jean-clad thighs. you were warm, was his first thought. he was screwed, was his second.

"what now?" you asked him, that innocent lilt to your voice as you did, and he felt like a dirty little freak for wanting to bend you over the steering wheel moments before ( who was he kidding? for still wanting to bend you over the steering wheel ).

dean took both of your hands and placed them on the steering wheel. once he'd closed your fingers around the wheel, he dropped his hands to your thighs.

"this one," he patted the left one, and nearly went molten behind you, when you lifted that thigh and placed it on his palm. "nuh uh," he tried to lightly correct, "this one you don't use. jus' keep it out of the way." dean's voice was strained in his ears, in his throat.

you slipped your thigh out of his grasp, pressing it up against the inner of his own thigh, your foot tucked around his ankle. you were so trusting and compliant. he was so, so screwed, and so, so awful for thinking about breaking that sweet naivety.

"this one," he said, patting your right thigh, and when you didn't move it this time, he smiled, just a little, to himself. "you use to make it move."

the flush on your cheeks that followed his tease was so damn pretty it took his breath away.

he lifted his leg, not able to reach the pedals with you sat between them and his seat all the way back. he pointed his boot at the left pedal, knowing you were watching each of his movements intently. "that's the stop pedal. push it down to stop." he repeated the process he'd done with your legs, boot pointing at the right pedal as he explained it. "that's the ignition."

pause.

"that's the go," he corrected, sparing you any momentary confusion and any more questions, he hoped. dean could not keep sitting here idle with you between his legs. "makes the car drive. harder you push, faster it goes."

hell, hell, hell. he wasn't going to hell, because he was already in it, strung up and burning.

"i'll handle the gears," he added quickly, when he caught your head turning downward to the shift stick. "don't wanna overwhelm that pretty little head of yours, dove, with too much at once."

dean rested his right hand on the gear stick, his left hand gripping the handle on the driver's door for dear life. he needed the support; you were driving him up a wall with his claws out, and you were about to be driving him. driving his baby. it took a lot of coaxing from sam for dean to let sam behind the wheel. all you did was ask how do you make it move? and he was letting you drive.

you. who did not even know what a car was. who was learning how to drive literally that moment.

god help him. he'd prayed more in this fifteen minute drive than he had in years.

you pressed down on the gas pedal, and the car revved all pretty and loud. dean watched with bated breath as the response to your efforts registered in your head, the way your eyes lit up in that curious glimmer, the fucking teeth biting on your lip.

once you let up, he pushed on the gear stick's release, and tugged it down from park to drive. the car slowly began to move down the dirt path.

you slammed the brakes so hard that his head knocked into the back of your shoulders. "fuck, dove, gentle."

and you were, when you shifted your foot over to the gas pedal again. you pushed it down on it tentatively, the car starting to glide down the dirt road, the sound of pebbles grinding beneath the tires.

"better," he mumbled in your ear, leant forward to keep his eyes on the windshield. it's not that he didn't trust you, he just... yeah, he didn't trust you. "just like that, dove."

the praise, though, goes in one ear and out the other, because the gentle ease of baby's tires along the road is interrupted by you slamming the gas. the tires squeal. clouds of dirt and dust puff out from behind the car as it takes off.

dean's heart went from in his ass to in his throat in a manner of a second. "whoa, whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed, a nervous laughter bubbling out of his throat. "slower, slower, will ya? crashin' in the middle of nowhere is the last—"

you hit the brakes again, still hard but less this time. just enough to send his head knocking into your shoulder again as the car slowed.

slowed, but still headed toward the ditch. "right, see your hands?" he asked, chin nuzzling into the plush spot between your neck and your shoulder so he could see better. "twist 'em. nice n' gentle for me, to your left, yeah, good girl. makes the whole car move, yeah? jus' keep it on the dirt, not off "

you follow his instructions, and dean feels a swell of pride at this. maybe he should have gone into driver's ed or some shit. he was a good ass teacher.

"like this?" you asked, drawing him out of his self glazing. your voice, soft and hesitant, breathless with your excitement, has his chest heaving.

"yeah, dove, jus' like that," he rasped, his left hand moving from the doorframe to rest where your thigh met your hips. the car kept its slow pace down the long dirt road, and for the first time since you'd gotten your hands on the wheel, his heart doesn't feel like it's pounding in his throat. "no, no, don't stop. keep goin', you're doing so good for me."

his phone starts to buzz in his pocket, and like that, his self indulgent driver's ed lesson comes to a screeching halt. "you jus' keep on going like this, alright?" he asked you, patting your hip with his hand before he reluctantly let go.

he definitely answered the phone with more attitude than necessary. couldn't help it. he was having a great time. "what, sam?"

"everything alright?" sam asked, and then dean felt like a prickhead for giving him shit at all. "s'been thirty minutes."

dean sighed, his eyes lifting again to look out the front windshield. a stop sign was quickly approaching, and you didn't even need his guidance for that. you were slowing to a stop all on your own. he was so fucking proud, it was sick. "all good. long line at the burger place."

it was dead empty, four miles back.

"we'll be back in a few, alright? chew on one of your books or somethin' while you wait, make 'em useful."

"dean—"

he hung up before he could hear sam's sighed response.

his hand fell to your waist again, squeezing lightly to stop you from lifting your foot off of the brake just yet. "play time's over. calvary's callin' us back."

dean pushed the gear stick into park again before he moved both of his hands to your hips, helping guide you back into the passenger seat.

he adjusted the seat again, his hands finding their typical place on the wheel. he did a very illegal u-turn at the four-way intersection and headed back down the road that you'd driven him down.

"have fun?" he asked after a beat, eyes flicking over to see you. you looked so pretty in the orange glow of the sunset, your face lit up in deep gold.

you turned to meet his eyes, and he had to look away quickly, the bright glimmer of adrenaline in them knocking all the wind out of him. "yes."

"good." dean meant it. there were so few things he'd risk everything for, but that toothy smile of yours jumped to the top of that list.

"dean?" your voice rung out again, earning him another glance your way in acknowledgement. "what part of the car was in my back the whole time?"

dean faltered, eyes blinking in a bout of surprise and lips parting, searching for a response he did not have. his eyes dropped down to his lap for a second, dread and embarrassment pooling like ice water in his stomach at what he hoped wasn't— yeah. yeah, it was.

"i dunno, dove," he mumbled through his teeth, staring straight ahead, fingers tapping on the steering wheel, doing basically anything to not meet that curious look of yours. especially knowing you'd have your lip in your teeth all over again. "might have t'take it to the shop, while we're in town... get it checked out or somethin'..."

he was so damn screwed.

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4nicholas @deanswidow @deansbite

[porcupine-girl]

One correction: NCLB never had anything to do with literally holding kids back a grade. Schools have always been allowed to do that. Unfortunately, it’s not actually an effective intervention and often causes more problems than it solves - which is a bigger problem now that many states actually require students to be held back if their standardized test scores are too low (so now we’re combining a terrible assessment strategy with an ineffective intervention, awesome).

Also, I wouldn’t say that focusing on sight words is a problem. Kids have always learned sight words before phonics, whether in school or at home. The problem was a very specific failed pedagogy known as “cueing” - basically, teaching kids to guess words based on context rather than sound them out or memorize them.

Obviously using context cues is important for anyone reading who encounters an unfamiliar word, including adults. But the key is that it only really works if you can decode the word but don’t know its meaning, and if you know the meaning of all the context around it. Instead, for years over half the schools in this country were using it as the primary way to teach kids to read - which means that kids were approaching a page of words, maybe being able to actually decode like half of them, and then being told to guess the rest. When, if they could decode the rest, they probably would know what they mean! They’re written for second graders! But instead they’re given no help on sounding them out and told to look at the pictures and other context clues and guess. Which, of course, leads to a lot of wrong guesses, without much in the way of strategies to figure out if your guess was right or not or how to fix it if it’s wrong.

While everything else you’ve listed here is a problem, I honestly think that without cueing as a popular elementary reading pedagogy we would be in half the literacy crisis we are in now.

do you have any ideas about why so many students are struggling with literacy now? I know that illiteracy and reading comprehension have been issues for years and most americans read at like a 5th grade reading level but I’m curious why it seems to be worse now (pandemic? no child left behind?)

It is everything. There’s not one answer. I could talk about this forever so instead I set a five minute timer on my phone and wrote a list of as many of the many things that are causing this on a systemic level that I could think of:

It’s parents not reading with their kids (a privilege, but some parents have that privilege to be able to do this and don’t.)

It’s youtube from birth and never being bored.

It’s phasing out phonics for sight words (memorizing without understanding sounds or meaning) in elementary schools in the early aughts.

It’s defunding public libraries that do all the community and youth outreach.

It’s NCLB and mandating standardized tests which center reading short passages as opposed to longform texts so students don’t build up the endurance or comprehension skills.

It’s NCLB preventing schools from holding students back if they lack the literacy skills to move onto the next grade because they can’t be left behind so they’re passed on.

It’s the chronic underfunding of ESL and Special Ed programs for students who need extra literacy support.

It’s the cultural devaluing of the humanities in favor of stem and business because those make more money which leads to a lot of students to completely disregard reading and writing.

It’s the learning loss from covid.

It’s covid trauma manifesting in a lot of students as learned helplessness, or an inability to “figure things out” or push through adversity to complete challenging tasks independently, especially reading difficult texts.

It’s covid normalizing cheating and copying.

It’s increasing phone use.

It’s damage to attention span exacerbated by increased phone use that leaves you without an ability to sit and be bored ever without 2-3 forms of constant stimulation.

It’s shortform video becoming the predominant form of social media content as opposed to anything text-based.

It’s starting to also be generative AI.

It’s the book bans.

what did I miss.

[sturnsrecord]

CLIMB THROUGH MY WINDOW

PART TWO — [fuckboy!chris x smart!reader. alcohol, drugs, dj on the vj, fingering, eating pussy]. you find yourself gravitated towards chris at a party, letting up more than you thought you would.

ʚ part one ɞ — ʚ part three ɞ

despite your studious lifestyle, and somewhat good decision making as a teenager, you didn't always turn down a party. if you had done all your work for the week, and had found a good lie to tell your parents, then you’d show up.

after that night in your room with chris he hadn't really spoken to you, other than in class or around school. you hated to admit it, but it bothered you. a lot. 

it had been a week since then and you’d already seen him chatting to other girls by their lockers, leaning on them like some idiot as he chatted them up. 

you didn't let that bother you. you knew chris, and what he was like. he was a fuck boy, of course he was gonna do exactly that and fuck other girls. deep down you wished you had the sexual confidence to sleep with other guys, maybe make chris feel shit. although a part of you knew he wouldn't even care.

you also knew that not having sex with him was bound to push him away, but you weren’t stupid enough to just sleep with him to keep him close. if he didn’t want what you was giving him then he could fuck off. which is what he would do.

this was your first time at a boys party though. you thought there'd be no difference, it was the same clump of teenagers in their school that showed up to all the parties. but apparently, not having a girl as the host meant there were a lot more rouge plus ones and a lot less organisation. 

the house was poorly lit, only adding to everyone's intoxication, as well as the mixed smell of bo and alcohol. 

you walked through the crowd, clinging onto your best friend's hand in the hopes that you wouldn't be separated. the both of you thought that making a beeline for the garden was the best idea, but the second you got out there it was just as busy.

“who the fuck are all these people?” you mutter to bella. “no idea.” she huffed, looking around to observe all the new faces.

as you make your way through the garden, you spot chris. he’s sat on an outdoor sofa, surrounded by other rowdy boys and some girls who were very obviously flirting with him and his friends. you tug at bella's arm, motioning towards chris.

“no, i don't wanna go over there.” bella huffs, raising an eyebrow. “c’mon. it's just chris, you know he's nice. besides, he's my friend.” you say, slightly desperate to go over there. 

“friend?” she questions, giving you a certain look. “you guys are fucking.” she mumbles under her breath. you scoff at her words. “i'm literally a virgin.” you retort, as if that changed anything.

“you're still doing stuff with him.” bella mumbles back, trying to tease you. “okay whatever, i'll meet up with you in a bit.” you say, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “kay love ya.” she hums back before you separate ways. 

you walk over to chris, noticing the half rolled joint in his hand. as soon as you’re close, he immediately looks up, a bright smile on his face. “didn't expect to see you here.” he says, returning his gaze to the joint as he delicately compacts the tobacco and weed into a cone.

“why not?” you remark, taking a sip of your drink, the already decided first and last of the night. he shrugs, licking the paper. “dunno, hardly see ya at parties.” he responds, folding over the paper meticulously before looking up at you. “thought you'd have too much work to do.” he remarks.

you raise your eyebrows at his comment. “well i don't.” you say with a smug smile. “hmm, that's a first.” he mumbles, the joint hanging from his lips, making his words even less clear. 

“shut up.” you roll your eyes, frowning slightly. he smirks to himself, leaning forward to get a lighter off the table. 

you hesitate slightly, going to sit on the armrest of the sofa. he takes note as he leans back, “you can sit y’know.” he says, bringing the lighter up to the end of his zoot. you sit down, fixing your skirt slightly to be composed on the small surface. 

he wastes no time wrapping his arm behind you, his hand gripping onto your hip. you’re a little shocked at the tame yet out in the open pda, but watching chris relax as he inhales the weed makes you realise that it was very possible that he'd done other shit tonight too.

“you want some?” he asks, smoke tumbling out of his mouth as he speaks. you look down at the joint being offered to you, hesitating for a second.

“you can say no, m’not forcing-” you interrupt, pinching it from his hand as you take a toke. he smirks, watching as you smokes. he won't deny, you looked very attractive.

you hand it back, appreciating the burn to the back of your throat at the strength. “good?” he questions your reaction.

“better than any other weed i've smoked.” you answer honestly, taking a sip of your drink, hoping it would soothe your throat, despite the fact it was a vodka-coke.

“that's cos i’ve got good shit.” he says, his face scrunching as he inhales whilst talking. a couple of his friends leave, creating an open space next to chris. he taps the side of your thigh, motioning you to move to sit next to him.

you stand promptly, walking past his spread legs to sit next to him. 

“what you drinkin then?” he asks curiously, a little smile on his face like he's teasing you for drinking. “guess.” you respond, holding it out for him to try. he sighs, reluctantly grabbing the cup from your grasp to give into your little game.

he takes a sip, grimacing slightly. “you drink vodka-coke?” he questions, the judgement clear in his voice as he hands the solo cup back. “it's better than doing coke.” you mumble, a stupid jokey remark you were almost embarrassed to say out loud.

he gives you a look, a slightly amused smile on his face. “that was a poor joke.” he tells you, despite the grin on his face. “well, it's true.” you say sharply, giving him a look of disappointment.

he shakes his head with a smile before taking a toke. “since when d’you care bout the drugs i do?” he asks casually, a small frown on his face, contrasting his slight smile.

you could tell he was a little offended, and that he actually didn't like the joke you’d made. you shrug. “i wouldn't say i care, s’just not good for you.”

“hmm.” he nods a little, which was him nicely telling you to fuck off. “so like, you wouldn't let m’do a line off you?” he mumbles, looking over at you with an intense gaze as he takes another puff.

you almost choke on your drink, your eyes wide as he asks. “uh.” you cough a little, composing yourself slightly. “what d’you mean a line- like where on me?” you question, now a little curious at the proposition.

he grins at your response, shrugging. “dunno, between your tits or somethin.” he says casually.

“and how many girls have you done that with?” you question, calling him out a bit.

“between the tits?” he repeats, thinking for a second. “none.” you roll your eyes at the obvious insinuation that he'd done lines off other parts of girls bodies. 

“want anymore?” he offers, his eyes now a little more red and sleepy. you take it from him, relaxing back on the couch as you inhale.

“so, s’that a no on the line?” he murmurs, clearly high as a kite as he looks over at you with a lazy smile, subtly holding out a baggie with white powder. 

you look over at him in slight disappointment, snatching the baggie from between his fingers as you shove it into his coat pocket. “don't just pull that out.” you panic slightly, not loving how carefree he was sometimes. 

he looks around, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “no one here gives a shit.” he grumbles, frowning a little before his gaze meets yours again, his eyes silently asking.

“you actually want to?” you question, not really understanding the point. you take a toke of the zoot after speaking, stubbing the end out into the ashtray on the table. 

he shrugs with a small smirk. “why not?” he questions, like he's daring you to do so. you sigh, questioning your own judgement as you actually consider it. 

he senses your hesitation, leaning forward a bit as his elbows rest on his knees. “doesn’t have t’be between your tits.” he mumbles, his eyes roaming over your body like he was looking for another spot. “could do it off your thigh.” he suggests, his voice almost hoarse as he speaks, making it very apparent that he himself liked that idea. 

you definitely preferred that idea, it seemed like less of a hassle. maybe it was the mixture of the alcohol and the weed, clouding your judgement, but you were down to do that. “m’kay.” you mumble, giving in. it's not like you yourself were gonna do a line.

he nods a little, almost proud of you for saying yes and venturing out a bit. then he stands, offering his hand to you before he leads you through the house, your delicate hand gripping onto his more rough one as you tag along behind him. 

he took you to an upstairs bathroom, letting you shut and lock the door behind you. you turn and he's already got the baggie out, holding it open. “shut the lid, n’sit.” he tells you, motioning towards the toilet. 

you do as told, mindlessly chucking your bag onto the floor before you take a seat on the closed toilet lid, the plastic cold against your upper thighs.

“this is so stupid.” you mumble, feeling a little nervous. “and pointless.” you add, watching as he sorts out his shit. 

“nah, it's hot.” he corrects, walking over to you before he gets on his knees in front of you. he holds his id card against your thigh, almost creating a barrier before he sprinkles a small line over your skin. 

you watch intensely, feeling your heart rate spike at the sheer adrenaline of the situation.

“don't move.” he tells you, using the edge of the card to straighten out the line a little. you take in a small breath, trying your hardest to remain completely still.

he puts the baggie and his card away, looking up to see your slightly nervous expression. “you good?” he asks, his hand coming to gently rub your other thigh. you nod a little. “can you just do it, i'm scared i'm gonna flinch or move or something.” you say quickly, clearly quite stressed about the prospect of spilling the expensive substance on your thigh.

he chuckles slightly at your panic, more calm as he trusted that you wouldn't move. but he complies, reaching into his back pocket for a dollar bill.

he rolls it into a tube before leaning over slightly as he brings it to one nostril, pressing the other with his finger. you feel the dollar bill touch you slightly, before he runs it along the line, snorting the coke. 

he's quick to tip his head back, his face scrunching as he sniffs, making sure it's all in.

your grip on the side of the toilet seat loosens slightly, as the muscles in your thigh relax. you look over at him as he puts the bill away, sniffling a little as it passes. then your gaze shifts to the tiny trace of the substance on your thigh, a miniscule amount left.

he pops his thumb into his mouth before collecting the remainder on your skin. “you want it?” he offers, although he's not expecting you to say yes. you shake your head. “how are you meant to snort that?” you question.

he smirks before sucking it off his thumb and then wiping it clean on his jeans. “like that.” he says, watching as you look at him curiously. “huh.” you mumble.

“s’not a lot, won't do much.” he shrugs, before looking back up at you. 

neither of you move as his gaze shifts over your body, specifically at your exposed thighs and short denim skirt. 

the coke was obviously getting to him as his gaze became fixed and concentrated, whereas your mind was spinning slightly. you were minorly cross faded, making you more brave than usual, as demonstrated by that little performance you just took part in.

“what kinda underwear d’ya wear.” he mumbles, his eyes not leaving your thighs. you smile at his question, finding amusement and confidence in the fact that he thought about that kinda stuff. 

instead of answering you begin to part your legs, revealing your black lacy underwear, the material only partially see through. 

his mind blanks at your action, his mouth filling with saliva as he admires the view and boldness. “you wear lacy shit?” he questions, his voice hoarse and lustful. “only when i dress up.” you respond with a smile, looking down at his reaction.

“looks fuckin sexy.” he mumbles, moving his hand forward to lightly brush his fingers over the fabric, feeling the slight dampness.

his head falls against your thigh at the feeling of how wet you are, his other hand gripping your calf. “fuck.” he groans, keeping his fingers there. 

he looks up at you eventually, his eyes heavy. “d’you have any idea how wet y’are?” he mumbles. you nod with a small smile, basking in how much it was sending him over the edge. 

he refrains from moaning again, instead returning his attention back to the heat between your legs. you gently play with his hair as you watch his fixation. “can i?” he murmurs.

you don’t even know what he's asking, but you’re quick to respond. “yeah.” you whisper, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

he pushes the bottom of your skirt up, watching as it bunches at your hips. then he hooks his fingers into your underwear, tugging it down your legs. you lift your hips up, helping him, and that's all the confirmation he needs to know you’re more than ok with this.

he separates your legs, admiring your naked form. “fuck-” he whispers, reaching out to touch you, sliding his fingers through your folds. you slouch back, looking down at the movement of his hands. you keep an eye on where his hands are going, almost waiting for him to do something.

his middle finger moves lower, gently prodding at your entrance. you flinch slightly at the new feeling.

“you still not into me fingerin you?” he questions, fixated on the way the tip of his finger slipped in slightly. “you can.” you breathe out, suddenly desperate to feel him. maybe it was your intoxication talking, but either way you knew you wanted chris, you just struggled to rationalise and vocalise it to him.

“you sure?” he asks, tilting his head up to look at you. you nod eagerly, opening your legs a little wider to give him access.

he wastes no time slowing pushing his finger in before gently twisting his wrist to get the right angle. you bask in the new sensation, never having had anything up there. then he speeds up quickly, curling his finger up into your g-spot.

“oh fuck-” you gasp, your body tensing slightly at the intense pleasure. he concentrates on the rhythm of his arm, making sure to hit the spot inside you perfectly. 

“can't lie, i really wanna go down on you.” he murmurs breathlessly, clearly overcome with lust in the moment. 

“what..?” you mumble out, returning to reality for a second as you focus your eyes on his face, and the desperate expression on it. 

“y’know, when you give a girl head-.” he explains with a sly grin. you shake your head quickly. “fuck off.” you scowl at his sarcasm. “i mean like, right here?” you raise your eyebrows as you question.

he looks over your body, your legs spread for him, exposing yourself at almost eye level. “well, i mean…” he raises an eyebrow, making a point about the position you were in right now.

you think for a second, looking over the situation. he senses the hesitation, bringing his hand to gently rub your thigh. “it’ll feel real good. promise.” he tells you, venturing closer.

your heart rate picks up as he brings his face closer to your heat, a peak in anxiety and insecurity as no ones been that close to you like that before. but all that vanishes as his tongue presses over your sensitive clit, making your body jerk in pleasure.

“mghh..” you groan, threading your fingers through his hair. he gets the message, immediately going all in, circling his tongue over your clit expertly, his hand still gripping your thigh.

“you're really good at that.” you croak out, your mouth momentarily falling open at the feeling. he smirks against you, concentrating on the task at hand as he soaks in the praise.

after a few minutes of the delicate touch of his tongue, he shifts so that he can hold both your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. for comfort you end up mindlessly resting your legs over his shoulders as he goes in further, sucking and nipping at your clit.

it makes your back arch, chris holding down your hips with his hands. “fuck-” you moan, your voice cut off by a gasp as he gently slips a finger in.

you sit up a little, looking down at  him with an already fucked out expression. “wait- i’m gonna cum if you do that.” he removes his mouth, looking up at you curiously, “is that not the point?” he taunts, his finger slowly moving in and out of you.

“yeah, but i'll be too loud.” you whimper, reminding the both of you where you were, anyone could be outside that door waiting for the toilet.

his smirk only widens at your admission, “be quiet then.” he ushers before his lips connect with your clit again. he leaves you with no time to dispute before gasps and whines are tumbling out of your mouth again.

he's quick to match the pace of his finger with the movement of his tongue, applying more pressure to your sensitive nerve as his finger hits your g-spot repeatedly. 

you grip onto his hand that's still on your thigh, holding tightly as you try to make less noise. 

from the constant simultaneous stimulation you feel, waves of pleasure coarse through your body, digging your nails into his skin as your orgasm builds up.

“gonna come.” you squeak, trying your best to stay silent. you resolve to covering your mouth with your hand, poorly muffling your moans as your high hits. he looks up at you from his position between your legs, not wanting to miss the sight of you coming undone from his touch.

your hips desperately grind forward onto chris's mouth as you come, his movements slowing to a reasonable pace. he removes his mouth, watching his finger pump in and out slowly as your body shakes and you come down from your orgasm, eventually pulling his finger out.

once you've calmed down, he gently removes your legs from his shoulders, planting your feet on the floor. 

“holy fuck.” you breathe out, almost in shock from how good that felt. he basks in your orgasmic haze, loving how good he made you feel. “you taste really good.” he comments, sucking your slick off his middle finger. 

“don't do that- that's disgusting.” you mutter, frowning judgmentally.

“what?” he chuckles, amused by your reaction. “i just had m’tongue on your pussy.” he points out. you grimace a little, despite the truth of it. “don't say it like that.” you mumble, shaking your head slightly with the same disgusted look on your face. 

he rolls his eyes playfully as he stands up, “you're ridiculous.” he tells you before he goes to wash his hands. 

you sit up, your legs a little shaky as you pick your underwear off the floor, stepping into them. you stand, pulling them up before fixing your skirt. 

“you good?” he asks, leaning against the counter as you sort your stuff. before you can answer there's a bang on the door followed by a loud voice telling you to hurry up.

your eyes go wide, and you want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and hide. “chris, i can't go out there.” you whisper, picking your bag off the floor.

“s’fine.” he says, like that's supposed to just reassure you completely. he saunters to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open almost theatrically. 

chris daps the guy up, and from the friendly interaction you can tell it's one of his friends.

“you guys hookin up?” he asks, looking between the both of you with a grin, his gaze remaining on your legs for far too long.

“nah, just doin the usual.” chris says, subtly wiping his nose as he speaks. the guy's eyebrows raise before he looks over at you again. “you do coke?” he questions, clearly surprised.

you go to respond, your words getting caught in your throat. but it doesn't matter because chris is already talking. “she did a bump, wanted to try it.” chris says, leaning closer to the guy as he speaks.

then chris's arm wraps around your waist, pulling you further away from the bathroom. “see ya around.” chris says to the guy, before pushing you so that you were now walking in front of him, a part of you thinking he did it to block the view of your ass from his friend.

“you okay?” he asks you, walking behind you as you descend the stairs with slightly shaky legs. “fuck off.” you tell him, trying to act like he hadn't just made your legs complete jelly.

he chuckles a little at your attitude, holding his hands up in surrender. “m’just asking.” he mumbles, a grin on his face.

you both reach the bottom of the stairs and you turn to look at him. “well i'm fine.” you hum before looking down at your unstable legs. “my legs are just a bit shaky.” you mumble under your breath.

his eyebrows raise a little, his own cockiness taking over. “oh really, why's that?” he asks, leaning on the bannister with a sly knowing smirk.

you roll your eyes, not wanting to feed into his ego further, although to be fair that may have been the best orgasm of your life. 

“why'd you always ruin it?” you huff, moving to stand in front of him, his arm still over the bannister. “m’not ruining nothin.” he mumbles, pressing his lips together as he pulls you in by your hip. 

your bodies are flush, and you can feel his steady heartbeat against your own chest, a contrast to yours. you look around at the crowds of people, some in conversation, others walking past the both of you to go upstairs. “you sure you wanna be seen like this with me?” you question, taking note of the increased pda when he's coked. 

he pouts, a soft frown forming on his face. “what's that meant to mean?” he mumbles, although he knows exactly what you mean. 

“we just look very couply right now.” you point out, looking at the lack of space between your bodies. he shrugs like it's nothing, but you know it is.

“so, we're just two people havin fun at a party.” he says, his other hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face, tentatively tucking it behind your ear. “just cos we look couply, dont mean we are.” he adds. 

“m’kay.” you mumble, just accepting his silly answer. “what?” he questions, frowning down at your change in expression. 

“nothing.” you say, spreading a smile across your face to reassure him. “s’not nothin, what’d i say?” he asks, his hand now playing with the ends of your hair although his gaze is focussed on your eyes, following their every move. 

you sigh, unsure of what to even say. “it's just-” you're cut off by him kissing you, his hands gripping your face to hold you in place. the kiss is hot, but softer than usual. his tongue isn't licking across your lip like usual, instead it's just the soft plush of his own lips. the intensity is there, it's just not in the action, rather in the emotion. which scares you a little. 

he pulls away, pressing a soft peck to your lips. “stop thinkin so much.” he tells you with a small smile, rubbing his hand over your cheek. 

you look up, into his eyes, aware of how adoring your gaze must be right now. “sorry.” you mumble out, drawing your eyes away from his. 

“you're good.” he says shortly, before he kisses her head. you feel cold as soon as he's no longer touching you. 

“i'm gonna go find bella.” you tell him, taking a little step away trying to keep it casual after that interaction. he nods, looking around a little. “i'll see you later then?” he says. you nod before parting ways.

you watch him walk away, letting out a breath you were unknowingly holding. fuck.

©sturnsrecord

notes . reupload from my previous account @/plan8sturn, I will be continuing the series here

[missingininaction]

alright, friends, i might say something you don't like but i think it's important. not just to defend a character, but because i think this is literally making people's experience and relationship with this game worse.

give jimmy like two seconds to exist.

by hating jimmy so much you refuse to even say his name, and judge real, living people for liking him, you are cheapening your experience by boiling down the main character to the most ~yuckiest~ moments. and, by not making a seperate space for hating on him, you are drowning out the voices of people who actually have nuanced things to say about his character. you know, the skilled writers and artists that feed the fandom? limitation is what kills fandoms, you have to know that.

is jimmy a good person? no. is he a good captain/companion/worker? Absolutely Not! he crumbles like dust under any pressure and he immediately shifts blame off of himself, he is an actively harmful individual and it's right to be upset by his actions. i literally had to stop myself from saying "man FUCK jimmy." multiple times because i didn't want to spoil how terrible he got to my friends when i showed the game to them.

but you have to understand; people are more than their actions. thats part of the entire point of the game. thats why its so abstract. you are meant to think about the nuances of their situation.

we can agree that anya was way more as a woman than what happened to her and what she did as a result of it, right? that despite her best efforts, she was a victim of circumstance, and she deserves to be understood and analyzed fully?

then why, seeing a fictional man who has done immoral things, are you so disgusted you won't even draw, write or discuss him outside of hate? what is that doing for you, to ignore literally the main character of the game because of his actions?

now, this is not to say people can't hate jimmy. i understand it! as someone who has been a victim of s/a and abuse, i understand if you hate him and are even triggered by him to the point of avoiding mention of him. (but...why are you in this fandom? ((not aggressive im genuinely asking)))

you can feel however you want about any character, my goal is not to control people. but i thought it was common knowledge to not hatepost about someone in their tag? over actual insight into his character and, you know, the main themes of the game?

jimmy is a man who has struggled his whole life. both him and curly confirm that in the game. he's unable to control his emotional outbursts, and he likely had no idea what to expect from being in fucking SPACE for over a year with people he probably didn't even know before that trip. and pony express and their corporate safety corner cutting certainly didnt help, did it?

for one reason or another, he most likely was never actually taught how to manage his emotions. that's just how it is sometimes, growing up as a man. and it would make sense if he was forced to deal with everything himself, no? he always complains, but he still says he'll handle it. because that's what he's always had to do. and this is just the start of what i could say about what made him the way that he is.

he's a victim too, not only of his own actions.

surprise surprise, people who do awful things can also be victims.

honestly, this entire situation baffles me. how are you going to avoid one of the main characters of the game, let alone the one you play as ninety percent of the time? mind you, curly is also guilty, and i am happy to see at least some people giving him space for nuance. because he is also a victim!!! why is it so impossible to see jimmy as nuanced, when literally every other character also has incredible depth to them??

you're tarnishing and spitting on the beautiful writing of this game just because one character is too icky for you to feel comfortable thinking about for too long. it's horror, you absolute morons. it's supposed to make you uncomfortable.

if you hate jimmy, i dont blame you. but please, please, make your own space for it. be kind to people who want to explore jimmy and the darker themes, and like him for what his character represents. this is a video game fandom, not a witch hunt. and please, learn some fandom etiquette while you're at it, okay? okay. thank you

also just say his name. its not a slur youre not gonna go to hell if you say jimmy. like this isn't as important but still it just feels like a microcosm of this whole thing.

[kitthefoxkin]

tw// discussion of genitals, zoophilia, harassment, transphobia, and sexual topics

has anyone else seen the controversy over species affirming packers? its been all over my feed and i have a lot of thoughts about it. the person that originally made them is actually my mutual on tiktok (where this whole thing originated) and i honestly think its not that big of a deal 😭

for context, a user named cyrusbarks on tiktok asked if anyone was interested in him making species affirming packers for alterhumans. a bunch of people were, so he made them and posted about it. they're sewn by hand with fabric and stuffing. they're not excessively detailed. since then, a LOT of people have been accusing him of being a zoophile and a predator because of this, which is insane to me.

first of all, packing isnt sexual and never has been. the only reason people think it's sexual is because it's genital related, which is just not correct. genitals arent sexual, and wanting species affirming gear isn't either. its no different from human packers made for trans folks already. but for some reason, people think that this specifically has sexual intent, despite not being usable in any sexual context.

second, a BUNCH of people have been misgendering him. Cyrus uses he/him and bark/barks pronouns and everyone ive seen talking about it has referred to him as They or She, both of which are misgendering. one person i was talking to literally said that he deserved to be misgendered. their exact words were "if someone's being odd... they don't deserve respect". i don't think i have to explain why this is an absurd thing to say.

third, people have been coming at ME for defending him, coming to my tiktok page calling me a zoophile. this is not only incorrect, but so, so hurtful. i love my pets so much, and being accused of being attracted to them is absolutely disgusting. my cat has gotten me through the worst times in my life, and people are implying that im abusing them because of my opinions on a stupid online controversy. its absurd.

my first mistake was expecting maturity and nuance on tiktok, i think. if you have any differing opinions or viewpoints, please please message or comment!!! i do genuinely want to discuss this topic and understand other people's viewpoints, as i feel very strongly about this. please just be respectful-- if you're just going to insult me, im not going to engage in conversation.

thank you for reading friends!

[zorak-phd]

I don't think I have one currently but I had one in middle school. A bully of mine made it on Facebook and blamed me for his parents divorce and ruining his home life.

After our first incident, my mom met up with his parents and had chats about coming together or something. Not directly angry or anything or getting mad at them but hoping to positively affect each other and his mom & my mom became friends.

After the second/third interaction, my mom noticed my bully walk back into the school with just his father and decide we should go in to. We go into the principal office after them and witness the father lying up a storm on behalf of his son, saying that I'M bullying HIS son (For reference, I'm a scrawny kid at this moment who hasn't hit his growth spurt at this time, literally smallest kid in the school while my bully is the tallest, bulky and a boxer) and then claims my mom went to their car and was physically threatening them.

We stayed silent and just let him continue until the lady in the office interrupted to ask him if the group behind him was who he was talking about, bringing us to his attention. Our parents started getting into a yelling argument, so did me and his son and in the heat of the moment his son screamed at me "You act like I'm the only one that bullies you", my mom screamed "hold it! I'm not the only one who caught what he just said right? " and the school staff members confirmed they heard what he said too. All of a sudden, the father starts backpedaling and talking about his son getting violent and arguing with him at home too. Now the father is agreeing that his son hasn't been acting right now that he can't deny it.

Afterwards, my mom called his mom to tell him what happened and she was furious and embarrassed about what happened and even got a call from the school about it too.

I had no more interactions with this specific bully afterwards irl and he eventually stopped going to our school but the rest of this I learned from the Facebook group he created, dedicated to hating me after searching my own name online; after this event his parents started fighting a lot and eventually divorced one another. His mother was disappointed in both him and his dad so he had a long punishment from her too with a lot of his devices taken away, her got kicked out of karate (forgot to mention that we both took karate at the same place, I had stopped going a bit prior to this but remembered this, he was a purple belt and I was blue but we sparred once and he was very violent, my mom contacted the dojo about him using it to bully kids so they kicked him out), post divorce his parents were now both single income and moved to different areas so he could no longer attend the same school he once attended and both parents no longer had the extra income they had before to spend on gifts for him or just high quality items in general. Him having to go to a different school also meant he was separated from a lot of the friends he had made.

He considered all of this to have been my fault, that I ruined his life and then made this group not just to vent but to also recruit people still at the school to get revenge in his absence. I actually did get bullied a lot afterwards but I don't think it had anything to do with him, I think it was more related to exploitation of the schools new weird "no tolerance policy" where everyone gets punished in an altercation (yes that includes the victim in the altercation) and the school also expelled students who got suspended 3 times so it created an environment where bullies can all bully a specific kid and not get in trouble because the kid getting bullied would stop seeking help to avoid getting expelled themselves when they got punished along with whoever was bullying them.

[sheepispink]

A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist AO3

pairings: Simon Ghost Riley/ Reader (platonic or romantic, up to you)

tags: probably loads of military inaccuracies, anxiety attacks (possibly?), heavy angst, angst and comfort, paranoia, bad mental health, cuddling and literal sleeping together (up to you romantic or platonic)

A/N: I’d appreciate if no one complained abt the accuract/realistic of the story (ofc if its the characterisation of ghost that’s perfectly ok!) i’m open for criticisation for how i write etc etc but this is a sensitive topic and.. based off personal experiences 😅😅 so it’s very realistic to me even if its not to you!

This technically takes place after this fic but it’s not a big deal in which the order you read it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re an introvert, even if you do get excited really quickly, loud around people you’ve known for a while and love meeting new people. Yet still, you call yourself an introvert, even if that technically still makes you an extroverted introvert. You don't like the sound of an extrovert— someone who thrives off of others' attention and loves to be the center of it, who brightens their days with their friends and always wants to make plans with anyone and everyone. You like the attention sometimes; when Price mentions your name in a conversation, praising your skills, your heart thumps a little louder. Being at the limelight of the party isn't always the worst thing either, especially when everyone laughs at your jokes so hard they double over, grinning so wide you can't help it either. You love your friends, your teammates, even the random soldiers you’ve only exchanged small greetings with. The love for others is held tight in your heart’s vessels, bursting each and every time they make you smile or you just see their presence. You feel so warm and alive when you give them a grin in the mornings, even more so when they seek out your presence throughout the day.

Though, that only applies sometimes— never always.

A familiar soldier could ask you out to lunch and yet your chest begins to twist uncomfortably, like someone is wringing your intestines with their hands. Something screams at you when they say those words, like an invisible line had just been crossed that had been clear in everyone's heads. You had only ever spoken to those soldiers in the gym or around base, there was nowhere else even remotely personal you’d think to take them to. One on one conversations were not common either, since it wasnt that often. It’s not that you don't like them, it’s just.. not right. You’d shake your head apologetically as you force an excuse between your teeth. The regret you then express is a lie, along with the love you felt before— only reduced to a being who could never hold any of those things.

The truth is, you have a sick little parasite in you, it claws at that heart muscle, tearing away the flesh and devouring any love you feel for the people you care about and replacing it with an empty feeling which is always followed by an unreasonable hatred. Your mind grows dark, headaches permanent, as you live through the day as a skeleton of yourself— no longer able to hold any love within you as it slips past your bones in seconds. You don't like the boundaries you’ve mentally set for each person to be crossed, even if it’s a perfectly normal task. In fact, some may even say you’re scared of change. You don’t like to put a label on these things, hell you don't even like to think too hard on these things. It begins to make sense when you sit and reflect, piecing all the reasons for your behaviour together until you hit the final point. Soon you’re done, finally aware of the most significant reasoning behind your antics. The only issue is, being self aware doesn't mean you get any better; no matter how many nights you sit and stare at that mirror, nothing changes.

The only thing you gained was the ability to squash down the parasite from prying eyes. Excuses fall from your lips quickly, no matter how bad you feel when they give you that look of disappointment. It’s not your fault— you know you won't be able to handle an outing like that, you’d get too worked up. Why? You don't need to dwell on it, not right now. This continues for multiple people, multiple soldiers for two weeks, until you're ‘normal’ and you hang around others again. People begin to subconsciously catch on and so your little routine continues to carry on moving so well, staying right on track.

“Sarge? You aint comin’ to team night? Why?”

Ghost stands at the door of your quarters, dressed in his typical training attire whilst you’re sitting in something cozy, made for home wear. You have to fight the urge to cover yourself up. “Oh right.. i, uh..yknow, lot of paperwork to do. Thought i’d stay in.”

You say with a small smile, attempting to ease any concerns he had before but little did you know, he was already growing aware of your little issue, or at least the fact there was one within you. “Paperwork? On a Friday? You should be relaxin’.” You grit your teeth a little, the burning urge inside of your chest returning just like the sick pit in your stomach. It felt so awful fearing just a simple team night out, but it was just so late and you were so tired— you didnt have the energy to be rational the whole time, to think of your next move constantly.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll come to the next one.” You shrug, turning back to your small desk as you pull another small stack of papers in front of you. His boots thump loudly against the floorboards, sounding like the heavy thump of your heart in your ears. It stops, suddenly, behind your back and your body stiffens as he leans down, looking at the paperwork you’re going through. It’s a lie— naturally, you finished it all. He doesn't even have to stare at you first nor visibly raise a brow; you’re already waiting for him to call out your bluff just as quickly.

“You can just say you want some time alone, yknow.” That catches you off guard, half expecting him to just tell you to stop whining and grab some drinks. His words were still difficult though, how could you easily just say that? Of course, the words itself aren't the hard part, nor speaking it—it’s the implications behind said words. An excuse means you have other things to occupy you, so no one dares to disturb you much after that, however explaining you want some alone time gives way to more questions. Specifically the first being: why? Then they begin to wonder if you’ve been doing okay recently or if you’re struggling with something. You dont like the idea of that at all— people thinking about you in that way. It feels weird, almost like it’s wrong. Sometimes you wished people would just not care, and leave you alone to wallow with yourself.

“Sarge?” You snap out of it, sheepishly scratching the back of your head as he still stands behind you and you turn in your chair, putting the best meek face you can on for the night. “What? No, that’s not why I declined. I’m not really feeling any alcohol today and a new episode of a series I previously binged on the weekend just came out. Sorry.. didn't want to make it seem i was ditching anyone for a show.” Perfect, an awkward grin had tied it all off into a well constructed excuse. Even if it was partially true and this really wasn't fake, it sure felt like everything you did was an act. After all, you really didn't want them to think you were ditching anyone, and you didn't feel like having any alcohol tonight. “A new series” He says gruffly, and you nod with a tight smile, teeth gritting so hard you’re sure they’ll break in a few seconds. “I’ll join you then.”

You blink once, twice, three times in pure utter confusion. Ghost—The Ghost, whose name is rumoured across the battlefield and known for never giving into idle small talk—wants to watch the series you lied about, with you.

You’ve never felt more guilty in your entire life, practically fumbling for a solution. You could just tell the truth, say no and admit you needed to be alone. But this is the first time he’s ever expressed wanting to hang around you, actually together and alone— and miss out on a team night?! He may just want an excuse out of it, but still, you can't just say no now. “Well yeah, i just..” You hate how there’s no easy way out of this in the slightest, torn between saving your own mental health or finally getting close to the teammate who you’ve been on eggshells around for nearly a year now. “My room’s not exactly clean--“

He cuts you off with a gruff, shake of his head, a scoff resounding in his next words, promptly embarrassing you too. “There ya go— knew you wanted to be alone.”

You fumble, not understanding how he managed to pry it out of you so fast, just a simple lie blowing your cover. “I said it wasn't like-“

“See you tomorrow.” He’s gone just as fast as he silenced you, heavy footsteps disappearing out of your door and down the corridors. What you couldn't wrap your head around is how fast he had figured it out and made you confess to your lies that fast— it was a real problem, something you couldn't just let slide. If he knew, did others too?

Unfortunately for you, the very much needed alone time didn’t help as well as it usually did considering this new information has threatened everything that made up the core of your very being—specifically everything keeping you glued together. You just couldn't sit there and possibly relax like you usually did when alone (more specifically think over everything you’ve done wrong until you quite literally fell asleep mid thought)— not when Ghost could clearly read everything you had ever thought about in your life.

That being said, you’ve been a nervous wreck all week, concentrating so hard on looking sane that you’ve barely paid a second of attention to things you should’ve listened to. It’s not like you slipped up regularly, but before that day you were already feeling pretty uneasy and now with still no relief and the added stress, you feel like you really might lose it any second now. Every time you see him, every word exchanged with your teammates—with another person—it eats at you, tugging further on the ropes you’re hanging onto. They’re already been pulled thin, especially since you’ve been put in charge of a group of rookies for the past few weeks now. Of course, you had pulled the short straw when assignments went round because not only did your group love to talk back, but they loved to test every limit by asking the most stupid of questions possible. It’s the second time now you’ve had to lecture one of the rookies about why you can’t just ‘throw a grenade at the enemies’. It’s only temporary, just basic training exercises and medical procedures they need to know until the Officer, who usually oversees them, returns from their sick leave.

You let out a long breath as you enter the small break room, also known as taskforce 141’s meeting room but they’ve let you lounge in here too many times to count. It’s quiet in here, Soap and Gaz both on missions and you assume Ghost must be too. It’s the first time you’ve been able to relax all week, knowing damn well Price is down in London with Gaz. Your shoulders sag, the miserable look returning to cover your features now that you don't need to pull that tight smile anymore. Your chest physically aches from how anxious you’ve been all day, the weight of the day’s mistakes and fears of the future swelling deep in your gut. You know it’s a Friday, know you should just take a long sleep but you can’t help but think about all you have to do for the days to follow. You’re busy the whole day tomorrow, a team outing you can’t deny no matter how much you really do not want to go. Just thinking of all the final work you’ll have to cram in on Sunday makes a splitting pain run along the bumps in your brain. Even your breaths begin to feel shorter, an uncomfortable feeling that you just still cant rid of no matter how long you take deep breaths. Your eyes are weighed down with exhaustion and yet your brain refuses to let you sleep yet. No, you cannot. If you sleep the night away then you’ll only have Sunday left for yourself, and that won't work out, will it?

You pick up the mug you had just stirred, hoping the drink would soothe at least something if not your dehydrated body. Taking a small sip, the hot liquid spills down your throat, leaving a warm feeling in your ribs. “Alone by choice or force?” A gruff voice rings out behind you, along with an arm reaching around to supposedly grab a teabag as well, is enough to make you flinch. Stumbling on your own feet, your mug jolts and the steaming water splashes against your shoulder. If you were worried about someone catching you so vulnerable before, you were certainly terrified now, especially since your skin was burning from a small startle.

“Fuck— sorry—“

Ghost’s gloved hand settle on one side of your waist while the other quickly takes the mug from your hands and places it upon the counter. You cant respond, barely processing the situation and everything just feels like too much and your skin feels so hot, you know he’s seeing you fall apart and still there’s nothing you can do—

Your thoughts snap to a blank when he presses the cold rag against your burning skin. Thankfully the layers of the training uniform stops any severe marks from forming. His other hand rubs your cheek, his mask so close it could brush your face, and you can actually see every speck of brown in his irises. You can't look at him for long though, moving your gaze away quickly, not when you know what you’ve done. For the past week or two you’ve hated him, painting the most horrible picture in your mind. It wasnt even on purpose, you’ve just started seeing everything wrong about him. He doesnt give the rookies much mercy, nor does he particularly entertain any of Soap’s antics even when the situation is pretty lax. He’s boring, he seems to care about nothing but himself somedays, he refuses to let you do something stupid and he never takes that damn mask off even when you’re all supposed to trust one another. You’ve lied to him, yes, forgetting about your hatred when he made you laugh with those gruff remarks. But he’s not the only one— no, you’ve began to hate everyone in this task force, picking at them and every little thing. It’s weird, you don't want to victimize yourself, because you know you’ve done just as much wrong too. But still, somedays you really can't look past the list of things you dislike about your own friends.

“Are you alright? I havent seen you all week.”

Of course he hasn't, you’ve been avoiding them all. It’s nearly impossible to think straight these days and you knew you wouldn’t be able to fake it so naturally, you just stayed away. The more you did it, the better it began to feel. Avoiding them was the solution— you were just the thorn in their side with your tricky mood swings and anxiety always painting them to be the villain. You couldnt just allow this to happen, to destroy them with your issues even if they had no idea about it.

But now, face to face with him, all you feel is unexplainable guilt for everything you’ve done to them— how could you even hate them for a second? His hand is still rubbing at your skin, nudging your face gently upwards just so you’d at least look at him for a second. “Really? The silent treatment now?.” He sighs and you hate yourself, how did you let this spiral to this point— to where he’s apologising to you and yet you wish you could just disappear. Isnt this what you wanted? For everyone to be kind to you? So why are you running— why do you refuse care?

Your lips press together as your teeth bite down on the soft flesh, torn from how much you’ve picked at the skin the whole week. It aches with anxiety, and your teeth hurt from how often you’ve clenched them so hard they scraped against eachother. The only thing you can do is stand there as Ghost fusses over you, trying to get you to move a damn muscle instead of falling apart silently like some kind of broken watch, unable to move forward or backwards. Just still.

“Sarge— snap out of it, look, I'm sorry. Okay?”

His hands are still on you, and you’ve begged for a day where someone would care this much about you and still, you step back, almost afraid. “I’m sorry, Ghost.” You croak out, your hands reaching up to your eyes as you wipe at your skin obsessively, trying to hide and stop anything from leaking. “Why’re you apologising?” He says gruffly, confused by all of this, this sudden onslaught of emotion.

He’s not stupid, he had a feeling you weren't quite yourself this week. Stupidly, he figured you’d just deal with it on your own. That's what everyone did, right? He knows he just takes a breather when he feels a little rough— even Price had his own battles. Comfort isn't a strong point for Ghost, not even when he was Simon Riley, never has and he never thinks it will be. He’s born and bred on violence and the coldness that comes after it, the lack of warmth even as hot blood trickles and emptiness consumes the space where his fellow soldiers should be. So watching you crumble right before him, apologising profusely while your body wracks with shaken breaths, makes something stop in him too. He doesn't know how he’ll do it, but he knows damn well no one fights alone anymore.

“Look at me.”

He says firmly, both his hands landing firmly on your shoulders, one hand even tempted to just force your chin up but you shake your head profusely. “Why not?” He stays patient for you, even if he knows he may have to force you soon— its the least he can do for you. “I cant look at you. Not after everything i did.” He pauses, hands now settling on your jaw in confusion, he knows this is moving towards an interrogation but he has to know. “What are you talking about?! What did you do?”

“I hated all of you! I avoided you all and destroyed our relationship, i fucked it all up.”

With that he cant stand to see this continue, a gloved hand firmly planted over your mouth as the other wraps around your back. He leads you to the couch even as you squirm, not caring in the slightest. He knows he has strength and not comfort, so he’ll use it to shut you up whilst the truth comforts you instead.

“Look at me.” He says sternly and you do, eyes snapping up with wide fear as you look at him. “That’s not true— okay? None of us consider our relationship with you ruined, not one of us has even mentioned you in a bad light at all.” He makes sure your whole body is pressed against the back of the couch, considering that you didnt particularly look as if you could hold yourself up right now.

“Soap has only talked to me about you once recently— he told me you helped him organize the training schedules for the rookies. Told me to thank you for it because he felt he did not express his gratitude enough. Do you understand now? No one’s mad at you– not one of us have even considered anything to have gone wrong.”

His hand grabs your own, settling it on the center of his chest so you can feel the pattern of his breathing, silently praying you’d try and match it. You can only blink at him though, slowly processing his words with each passing second until his hand leaves your mouth and your lips part, breath hitched before you swallow a sharp breath. “I’ve avoided all of you– i’ve been hating all of you.” You choke out, chest clenching with regret and the weight of unreasonable guilt and his other hand moves to hold your face again, his brown eyes piercing into yours with his silence.

“What is like to hate someone?”

“What?”?

“What is it like to hate someone?” He repeats, his thumb pressing gently into the curve of your cheek.

“I-...” You falter, thinking for a moment before your lips part again. “I dont like things that they do— the way they act and everything about them.”

“You’d avoid them too, right? Like that general you hated. Remember when he touched you and you pushed his hand away?

You nod along in agreement, breathing a bit slower to hopefully ease the pressure on your chest at the moment.

“Y-yeah.. i’d express my dislike clearly..”

“So why did you never push me away the past few weeks? You said you avoided us, but you would always speak to us if we needed to. You still helped Soap too.”

You pause, blinking at him in confusion now, you had convinced yourself that you hated them so why did you never.. actually express it?

“You’re also letting me touch you now and last week you didn't want to hang out with us, but you didnt want to hurt our feelings by saying that.”

You’re left silent, baffled and confused because in your head, you were being horrible to them, hating their guts like it was nothing.

“I think… whatever is going on in that head of yours.” He says slowly, tapping at your forehead gently as you look up at him with widened eyes. “You’ve held it in for too long. You’ve dwelled on those thoughts, so self aware of your own anxieties that you’ve distorted reality. You think you’ve done something bad, because you can't understand why you always feel so bad.” His voice is softer than usual, even if his words are still gruff and holds his thick Manchester accent.

Somehow that alone reminds you that Simon has never lied, not even once, to you. That stern voice of his is straightforward, doesnt mess around and forces his way through any problem. Just like he had just pushed himself to the root of your mind and destroyed your seeds of doubt.

“You’re allowed to talk to us you know. I have a funny feeling you’re scared o’ somethin’. Not sure what just yet.”

He doesnt force you to respond, just speaking his thoughts even if that’s what you usually do when you’re together. The couch creaks as he stand up, pulling you to get up aswell beside him. He places a hand on the crook of your back, gently encouraging you to begin walking towards the door. “Cmon, back to my room. Lets get you cleaned up properly.”

Before you know it, you’re sitting against the headboard of his bed, something you had only felt months ago when you first came here, scared and confused over a stupid hornet. You trusted him to help you then, but you dont understand why you suddenly felt that fear again. Meanwhile, your shirt is half off, Ghost sat on the bed beside you as he inspects the burns on your chest from the tea. It’s harsh, the skin reddened but not enough to be something serious thankfully. He presses a cool towel against it, soothing the stinging skin but he knows it’ll fade out soon enough. You’re wearing his old shirt, and he gave you some comfortable sweatpants too for good measure. You just watch all his moves so quietly, feeling like a ghost yourself in this moment from how detached you are. It’s weird, feeling so much yet nothing at the same time.

“Nothing too bad, should be alright by the morning.” He hums, lifting the fresh mug of tea he brewed for you and brings it to your lips for you to sip before he steals some for himself. “Is your chest still tight?” You blink, not expecting him to ask that of all things because you hadnt exactly mentioned that part and yes, it was. “How did you know..?” Your hand reaches out, silently asking for more of the tea he graciously lets you sip, unable to fathom how he brews it so perfectly each time. “You were clutching at your chest before and your breaths are a little shorter than they should be.” He’s seen straight through you again so you slump your shoulders and just nod quietly. “Yeah, it’s really tight. It’s always like this and i dont know how to make it stop.”

His gloved hand reaches out, gently rubbing at your chest thus making you sink a little back into the pillows. Before he can respond, you speak up with a quiet confession. “That day, when you came ‘round, I was upset. You said you wanted to watch the series with me and I felt so bad. I didn't want to give up my only chance of spending time with you, but I knew my head couldn't take it.”

He nods along quietly, letting you reveal it all to him. “T-then you figured me all out and i got scared— i didnt want someone to know everything about me because i didnt want to be a problem. I want someone to listen but i dont want to be seen as something different. I just.. i dont know how to handle all of this. I dont feel like the person i am when i look in the mirror.”

The strangest thing of all is that it didnt actually take you long to figure it out. You knew all along, of course, but when you’re fighting against yourself, you’re supporting both sides and so a part of you decided not to dwell on a certain bit of information too much. The reason for that to be pushed aside is no part of you wanted to face it.

Your heart always secretly wished someone would find out— that someone would push past the walls you’ve banged so hard against even if they were crafted by the webs of your brain. You prayed and prayed that they’d read through it all, express their concern and one day, one day you’d be saved from this hellish feeling. It was a common daydream for you and yet you were terrified of it. If someone knew, there was no guarantee they’d follow the fantasy. They could ridicule you, or they couldnt be able to comfort you at all, maybe they’d try and it wouldnt even do anything or maybe, just maybe— they wouldnt give a damn about it. What happened then? If that daydream was real, and that was the final outcome, there was no turning back in time. It seemed like only one person would ever figure you out, after all, no one had up until this point.

But then Simon became aware, and you got terrified. You hid away because you were too scared to know his reaction to your problems, even more so his reaction to you. You wanted someone to help, you really did, and yet your brain feared to know the uncertain future of it.

His ungloved hands card through your hair, the callouses gentle against your scalp as he slowly scratches at it. “You need to speak with us, and the others. Your feelings are real— hell, we all have our doubts. I used to feel it before every mission. Soap began to tell me his, then Gaz joined too. Price always looks for a way to solve it, and i give my two pence when i feel i want to. Just cause you feel different, doesnt mean you are. Plenty o’ people felt the same way you did before.”

“Really..? I’m not like.. crazy?”

“No, never. Even if you do some stupid shit sometimes.”

That makes you finally crack a real smile, even if its small and you’re unable to stifle the small chuckle that bubbles in your throat and although he’s the epitome of stoicism, he smiles beneath the mask. “Everyone’s out on a mission, ya can't leave me alone tonight. C’mere.”

You settle yourself in the crook of arm as he lays back against the bed with you, propping up his laptop on his lap as he searches for a good movie.

“You better report back to me everyday this week, alright? I want you here at nine pm sharp, dressed in your pajamas. That’s an order.”

Thinking over all your previous daydreams of how this would eventually go, this was far from how you expected it to be. Firstly, you never expected Ghost, nor it to happen in the military at all. Perhaps you thought maybe later in life it’d occur or maybe Soap or Price would figure it out. Either way, you arent actually upset over it. No one would be your fairy tale saviour in life, coming forward to fight the demons that plagued your head all the time. Even so, the way Ghost had shut you up and calmed you down makes you think he’s pretty damn close to being one, even if knights usually dont scoff at their princess.

He doesnt even look like he’d be willing to give a little kid a hug, but still, you couldnt be happier with how this turned out in the end. Compared to fairytale princes and men in the movies, you knew Ghost and you knew he was serious— so if he wanted to help you, he would. And no, he wouldnt ridicule you throughout the process, nor ever feel like you’ve been misheard. You know that if you spoke to Ghost, he’d listen earnesty and never forget, carrying that around with him even if those anxieties eventually died out.

You knew he’d always linger around, never forgetting you or leaving you behind. Just like a Ghost.

“Okay, i promise i will.”

You say softly, pressing your cheek against the curve of his chest, the faint thump of his heartbeat drowning out any lost thoughts. He was your support, and no matter how bad it got for you, no matter how many times you get overwhelmed and lash out, not even when you avoid everyone— he’d never break away. No, he would always be beside you.

[mythalism]

it’s so interesting bc i actually was not one of the people advocating for an inquisitor da4 main character like many others were before we knew anything about veilguard. like i fully wanted and expected a new protagonist because yeah it makes sense to have a new protagonist for a new story in a new place. but then they literally wrote a game where every 5 seconds i went “wow this would be so much more impactful if i was playing as my inquisitor”. “wow sure wish i was playing my inquisitor right now”. “wow this would be the culmination of a 10 year journey for my inquisitor but im playing as some random idiot instead.” like they COULD HAVE written a story where it made sense to be rook and that’s what i expected and anticipated. but the plot of veilguard is not that story.

anyway this is 100% about me being bitter that it’s rook and not my lavellan that got to go meet the fragment and earn mythal’s favor. like my dalish first lavellan who was elevated to near godhood by the armies of the faithful against her will coming face to face with the all-mother the most central goddess of her people and having her be a total fucking bitch to her…. if lavellan was the one to look her in the eye and say that she should have respected solas more…. for her to confront her over the blight and for failing to be the goddess her people needed……. for her to earn her respect and favor after everything she had seen and been through…. the has walked through her temple she has completed her rituals she has met her sentinels and they called her SHEMLEN but if she could just prove herself to MYTHAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this isn’t even beginning to touch on how both of their love for solas would come through in this moment. even without that it would be an insane moment for any dalish inquisitor that just does not feel satisfying for the only vaguely elven rook who cannot even be sufficiently dalish. and even for non-elven inquisitors…. MORRIGAN CONFIRMS JUST BEFORE THIS CONVO THAT MYTHAL WAS WITHIN ANDRASTE!? so any inquisitor would get to confront the prophetess they are the herald of. any inquisitor could mention meeting Flemeth and how this Mythal should help them because that other part of her helped them once before. any inquisitor could bring up their shared betrayal by solas. god there is so much they could have done with this FUCK!!!!!!!!

the reason they couldn’t is probably because the moment mythal realized that my dumbass inky had both 1. fucked solas and 2. drank from the well of sorrows she would make her head explode with a thought. actually now im thinking about how insane this would be. imagine she basically casts a successful feeblemind on an inquisitor who drank from the well who challenges her + romanced solas and then u gotta drag her back to the lighthouse and tell solas his super ex situationship feeble-minded his most recent ex gf because she was dumb enough to drink her bath water after he begged her not to. ok brb actually i should write this

[sleepystargaze]

On Caitlyn's 180: An Essay

This is all spoiler below. But I NEED to talk about it.

What if this is the exact moment Caitlyn puts everything together, including Vi being one of the children who burglarized Jayce's penthouse.

Hear me out.

So, Caitlyn asks Vi what she's doing there, and Vi says, "Trying to save my dad." She has this little "AHA!" moment.

(go look at the last panel of this gif set rn for more context)

That woman just had an epiphany. Furthermore, the way the music swells at this exact moment just feels like it's clueing in on more than meets the eyes.

She clearly realizes, at minimum, that her and Vi are here for the same thing: Warwick. And then doesn't even really question it. This got me to thinking, "but how she do that though?"

Well, she has all the information she needs to put it together, this is just the first time she's had a reason to pull that SPECIFIC information together.

Let's start with the fact that Caitlyn loves a mystery, and the rise of shimmer is a part of her favorite mystery.

Literally, in her giant bedroom, the only part of it that looks lived in is the big map at the foot of her bed. The show doesn't indicate when exactly this obsession started for Caitlyn, but it makes it clear that it's been on her mind for a very long time. Jayce called it "the great conspiracy," so she definitely talked about it a lot. And Jayce's flippant attitude tells us she's definitely been thinking about it since she was a teenager.

Educated guess, I believe this started with Sheriff Grayson's murder. (a) It would be unsurprising Caitlyn felt a great need to bring justice to the person that murdered someone she cared for. (b) It was a murder that would ultimately become a cold case. (c) Silco being the main conspirator to her murder, the trail would lead her to a larger conspiracy.

And from this scene above, we know that Vi is impressed with what Caitlyn was able to gather without ever going to the Undercity. Which means, we know her board was really close to the truth. Afterall, it did lead her to Vi, who single-handedly led her to the answers she sought.

So, why the hell does this matter in regards to Vi being involved in the burglary?

Caitlyn knows that Grayson's main priority at the time of her death was finding the culprits of the explosion.

Caitlyn's parents clearly involve her in the conversations revolving around the explosion at the penthouse. I don't feel it's a stretch to assume she also knew that the council were putting pressure on Grayson to solve the case.

The explosion of the warehouse happened on the same night as Grayson's murder. While I don't think Caitlyn had a way to really connect the 2 explosions except that they happen within days of each other, I doubt Caitlyn forgets this fact even if she does not connect them initially. 

Now you may being wondering why the heck that matters. What does the warehouse have anything to do with it?

Caitlyn was in the ruins of the destroyed warehouse at the end of season 1.

In which she heard this conversation.

Thing is, she was going through an extremely traumatic experience at the time... Then her mom was killed... So I doubt she realized it was the same place nor had the mental capabilities of processing the information. And by the time she did have the capacity to really consider it, she likely had no reason to...at least yet.

Regardless, she's here for this conversation. She now at least knows Vander's name and that he was important to them and that Silco murdered him here.

So, she has her connection here. If she realizes this was the location of the second explosion, she now knows that Grayson and Vander were murdered on the same night. And if she connects it to the penthouse explosion, Grayson's investigation and main focus at the time, she also knows that...

4 children were fleeing the scene.

Seems like everyone knew this within the hour after the explosion. Word spread so fast, Vander knew before the kids even got home. Caitlyn undoubtedly knows about the kids. She just doesn't know who they are, but she has seen them.

Caitlyn has an eye for detail and a mind for investigation. I doubt she lets much fall between the cracks. They didn't leave Ekko's home until it was dark. She had plenty of time to look at this mural, at the 4 children including Vi. Then at the tea party when Jinx starts talking to her hallucinations, she's pointed to...

Again, traumatic experience. Probably not thinking about it that hard, but she did see the puppets. Again, no reason to connect those things yet. But she does now have the context to connect that these 2 other children are important to Vi and Jinx and that they were important enough to be brought to the "tea party."

And because of the mural, she knows that these were real people and that they died.

FURTHERMORE, they undoubtedly know who Vander was by the reputation he left behind.

When that one guy getting tortured gave up Vander's statue as the meeting location, Ambessa's second-hand man, who is not from Zaun OR Piltover, knew exactly where that was. There's no way Caitlyn doesn't also know about the statue. Besides that, she also saw him in the mural. If she's seen this statue, she knows it's the same man.

Caitlyn would now know that Vander is important to the whole undercity. "Well respected."

Lastly, Singed told Ambessa about the man behind the monster.

This one is a bit of a stretch, but think about it. Ambessa has no reason to withhold the information Singed gave her. Here it is below if you want a reminder:

"He isn't a monster. He was once a man. Well respected, at that. Victim of great tragedy. He had a furocious will to live. An incredible tolerance for pain. With him, I was able to make strides impossible with any other specimen. But the mind... the mind I could not recover. The man forever lost in the bowels of the beast, compelled only by the scent of blood. Or so I thought. It now seems I had yet to uncover the right catalyst."

Singed is awfully forthcoming with information once he realizes he doesn't have to hide it from Ambessa. And when Caitlyn walks in on them in Singe's lab, Ambessa makes no effort to hide her current involvement with Singed. AND even if Ambessa realizes Singed is talking about Vander, I highly doubt Ambessa has the information necessary to realize she's literally delivering Caitlyn to a connection to not only Vi, but Jinx.

Caitlyn, however, does have all the information. If Ambessa or Singed told Caitlyn the same info or even more, Caitlyn could likely start making some assumptions on who the man behind the beast is.

She just didn't have a catalyst to put everything together... Again, yet.

And while we're on the topic of this scene...

We learn Caitlyn abhors a gap in information.

Caitlyn talks about the mystery of shimmer, "This led to one other missing puzzle piece whose absence has always gnawed at my mind."

She wants all the details even if it does not add much to the full picture.

She already knows Silco and the chembarons are responsible for the manufacturing and distribution of shimmer. Learning who made it only tells her who made it. It doesn't solve anything or change what she would have to do to stop the spread of shimmer. But she wants to know. She HAS to know.

She wants all the dots to connect and is not satisfied until they do.

So, when Vi says, "Trying to save... my dad."

What if this one sentence was all Caitlyn needs to connect everything she didn't understand before. I mean, how else do you explain that little "aha" head move she does.

There is no way she did not take a greater interested in how the heck Vi was involved to begin with and especially as a child.

Her main focus has been on Jinx: finding her and bringing her to justice. She's been distracted.

What if this is the catalyst, the first time she has a reason to connect all those dots to make what Vi said make sense. And suddenly it all does.

Honestly, it would explain why Caitlyn jumped ship so easily.

In conclusion.

Caitlyn has all the information she needs to connect the dots.

She has the motivations to continue seeking those answers.

She just didn't have the mental opportunity to really consider it... until she did.

Anyway... Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe one "Cupcake" is just not enough to convince me she'd immediately plan a mutiny, but maybe she is that simple! (She's definitely not. *coughs*)

But you know what, even if she didn't glean that Warwick is actually Vander and Vander is Vi's dad in that moment, she definitely knows after this...

So, anyway, I think she definitely knows or is at minimum primed to have the realization. Guess we'll see.

[lilithofpenandbook]

Out of everything that traumatised Neville, Snape isn't one of them. If he is, that's not because Snape is abusive, it's because Neville is literally weak. That's not an insult, that's his flaw- being unnecessarily scared of everything. The other children are not afraid of Snape himself. They're more afraid of the consequences of angering Snape (house points lost, detentions, scoldings) rather than Snape as a person.

Neville's feelings are shockingly enough, not valid. Those feelings of fear, that cowardice? A flaw. Just as much as arrogance, spitefulness, being overly afraid is a flaw and in his case makes him a danger to others, as does his clumsiness and forgetfulness. Now, forgetfulness isn't something you can choose, I'd call it a weakness more than a flaw, but at the same time there are ways to manage it. But the cowardice? That's a flaw that needs to be corrected.

Neville's trauma comes from his family. His uncle is awful to him, as is his grandmother, and seeing his parents in such a state is enough to mess anyone up. He comes from a messed up family. It does not come from Snape.

People also like to say that "Oh look his boggart is Snape even though his parents were tortured!!!" but here's the thing: Neville was probably never even present.

He probably never ever even saw his parents tortured. He knows what happened, but was most likely never a witness. If he was present would he have actually lived? Of course not. So of course he's not going to have that as his worst fear. It's not going to come to mind in school. Not when he just got grilled by Snape.

Neville's been through traumatic events, that's undeniable. But Snape is not one of them. Snape isn't obliged to be nice to Neville. Snape's job when it's Neville is, by some point, just making sure Longbottom doesn't kill them all. Neville's cowardice and clumsiness aren't reasons to coddle him. If I was teaching Potions, I'd have kicked Neville out by second year- no way am I risking a whole class because one child can't follow basic instructions.

Neville's family is the real problem in Neville's story. They're supposed to look after him and care for him. If we're going to be talking about this boy's trauma, we need to discuss how he was more alarmed at the thought of his grandmother being his boggart than Snape was to the point that he didn't mention her, Lupin just mentioned her to give Neville an idea of how to sort out the boggart

And let's also talk about why Lupin decided to essentially completely humiliate a colleague that is already not respected by the children. Making his likeness look ridiculous is so petty and unprofessional. Lupin could have easily told Neville to do literally anything else that would have made the situation funny without making a mockery of Snape, but he didn't. He chose to suggest the grandmother's clothes to humiliate the real Snape- look at what happened at Christmas when Snape got that hat from his cracker, he was clearly upset by it, he clearly knew why the boys were laughing-and not only that, he prompted Neville through the entire thing. He didn't simply say "imagine Snape in your grandmother's clothes", he dragged out the entire thing to make it as ludicrous as possible (like, why the handbag? Why did he prompt Neville to also describe her handbag? Obviously to add to the ridiculousness). That's his colleague. He's leading the kids to disrespect his colleague, their teacher. When you read that scene, it's fairly obvious Snape was likely to be Neville's boggart due to him literally making a remark that embarrassed Neville seconds prior that Neville visibly reacted to (and in all honesty, it was a fair warning. Sarcastic, but fair- Neville should not be entrusted with anything dangerous and DADA involves doing things that could hurt others). If you want to talk about the boggart scene, acknowledge how Lupin had a full conversation with Neville to prompt him to imagine something to humiliate Snape with. "Oh, it's just a boggart" But it's not. Something like that is going to be spread, gossiped about, it will ruin whatever little respect the kids have for Snape. Lupin was behaving absolutely unprofessionally and honestly when I looked at it just now, it made me feel a little sick the way Lupin was talking.

And I'm not even going to discuss Trevor The Toad, I've already gone on about him multiple times before. It's probably the most misunderstood and misused scene against Snape. Like, it only takes two seconds to realise that if Snape's intention was to hurt or kill Trevor, he would have just squished Trevor when Trevor was reduced into a tadpole (was it a tadpole?). As it was, he didn't even leave Trevor as a tadpole and make Neville make the counter-potion, he administered it himself and was specifically mad that Hermione helped Neville after being told not to. Once again, Snape's not being abusive or a bully for the sake of it- he's trying to be a teacher. It's the kind of thing you hate as a child but grow up to realise that actually, the adult had a point. Even if it seemed unfair at that moment.

Anyway, people geniunely don't give a shit about Neville's trauma, and when they do, it's to use it against Snape without acknowledging that actually, it's far worse that his Boggart could have easily been his grandmother but Lupin didn't allow it (he didn't even question why he was so afraid of her). It's far worse that his uncle treated him so badly. It's far worse that the people who were supposed to raise Neville were cruel to him. And it's far worse that McGonagall, who IS supposed to care for Neville, is just as mean to him as Snape is.

The fact that people (Marauders Stans) only care about Neville's trauma to bash Snape. It's always Snape was his boggart never McGonagall risked him dying twice and humiliated him in front of everyone. Or his grandma treated him like shit and his great uncle nearly killed him several times. They literally don't care about Neville. It's Snape fans who actually care more about him (even if they don't care about him) because they don't treat him/his trauma like a tool (which is a very low bar). I feel really sorry for him. After everything he went through, his trauma is not talked about enough.

[thelunarfairy]

Hey there! Am back :3

Chap 120 was uh...ow. AidaIro hurt my feelings to put it lightly.

Ahem- anyways.

I was thinking a lot about how in thos timeline, Tsukasa and Amane almost switched roles. I mean, Tsukasa is still infested with the entity, but Amane is the one doing the enitity's bidding this time. I know Hanako still had the entity in him in the normal timeline, but you het the point.

Anyway, I wanted to know your take on why Amane seems so out of control with the entity, and Tsukasa handles it better. Why Hanako needs a seal. I mean, Tsukasa does some pretty fucked up shit, sure, but he also doesn't try to kill everyone or sacrifice them (Sakura, Natsuhiko, etc). It's like Tsukasa and the entity have more of a partnership, while Amane is almost enslaved to it.

Now, I know memory also plays a part here, because he doesn't recognize Kou or Nene (at least not u til the split second when Nene screams for Hanako to help her) and it snaps him out of it. If he remembered them, would he able to hold back and not murder Kou and Mitsuba? Then again, can't exactly ignore all the murdering he's doing anyway. Besides that, Amane has always been known to have the kinder temperament. You can see it in his eyes versus Tsukasa's, and his personality in general.

I guess my curiosity stems from the fact that with the entity, Tsukasa never killed humans despite having the entity in him. He was probably hurting Amane, but it was because he WANTED to break Amane right? Wanted him to kill him. So why could Tsukasa grow up (before he was murdered obv) and not go on a murderous rampage, while Amane does? Amane is literally an adult too, and Tsukasa is still a child! Lil psychopathic bb.

Sorry if this is too long of an ask 😅 I really dont know how to stfu lol. Excited to see your take on this if you decide to!! No worries if not :)

Hello dear!!!!! welcome back!!!

That chapter made the fandom suffer XD

You answered your own question. Tsukasa has a special connection with the entity. Apparently he is the first one not to fear the entity, he taught it to speak and stayed with it daily for a while.

Tsukasa sacrificed himself willingly, he fulfilled the agreement, and he went alone, he didn't have to be forced to do it. So yes, he and the entity have a partnership.

Tsukasa does what the entity asks, which means that it doesn't need to control and order him, because he will do it.

And the entity "trusts" Tsukasa so much, that it allowed him to come back, and the one who asked it to come back with him was Tsukasa.

It wasn't the entity that said "you'll only come back if I go with you".

It was Tsukasa who said that the entity would go with him.

In the old reality, Tsukasa is committed to accomplishing some still mysterious things, his intelligence resonates with the entity. He can convince it to do certain things or stop it.

Like how he easily makes the house retreat when he sets it on fire.

Not because the house wouldn't listen if he asked, but because Tsukasa was pretending not to have a direct connection with the house to Kou and Nene, so that they wouldn't suspect.

He wouldn't say "stop it" in front of them, so he used another effective way without taking away the idea that he is trapped and is a victim of the house. Yes, he is a victim, but he was the one who chose to sacrifice himself, he wasn't forced to do it.

He talks casually with the entity, as if they were close friends. He isn't afraid of anything, so Tsukasa doesn't need to be manipulated or controlled, he does what he has to do.

Remember that I'm referring to Yorishiro and little Tsukasa from the old reality. It's still too early to conclude anything about Tsukasa of the new reality.

Amane from the old reality fears the entity, you can see the fear reflected in his eyes, he knows the danger that creature represents. Hanako doesn't like the entity and is forced to do the things it demands.

He doesn't like what he does and is against it, but it seems that he has too much experience and understands that fighting the entity is problematic. The entity will force him to do what it wants, as you saw, and since Hanako doesn't want to do what it asks, then the entity takes control over him.

This seems to be something that really happened in the old reality too, since he can only control himself if he is sealed.

In the new reality, Amane has no control at all, suddenly he is controlled and the entity does what it wants without even allowing Amane to have memories of it, so that he won't be able to try to get rid of it.

So in short, Tsukasa has a partnership with the entity, so it doesn't need to control Tsukasa at all. (in the old reality).

Hanako fears and is against the things the entity does, that's why he is possessed, to be forced to do what the entity wants.

Amane probably wouldn't kill Kou and Mitsuba if he were fully conscious, at least if it didn't have any direct objective.

For example, if he needed to sacrifice the two for someone he loves, he would do it. He already did. Hanako will always be Hanako, what changes are the circumstances. As much as he is kind, he still has the potential to be someone bad.

Tsukasa hurting Amane is an old theory, because the signs point to it, who would Amane forgive for hurting him like that?

Tsukasa, but Nene too.

Tsukasa can be aggressive and violent with people, but so far he has never been like that with Hanako. That must mean something. I once created a theory about Amane's injuries.

Now about Tsukasa, don't believe that he is a "psychopath".

We now understand how the entity works, in many moments we have clearly seen how the entity also influences Tsukasa's actions, just as Aidairo made it clear how the entity acts.

Amane is a serial killer now, but it is not exactly him. The boy is just a shell that is being controlled by the entity, it is the entity that wants the deaths.

You just said that Tsukasa does not kill humans, how would he be a psychopath if he does not kill humans?

Remember, the entity is still inside him.

Why is Tsukasa, who has always had the entity inside his body, still considered a "psychopath", and when Amane kills MANY people, he is just the boy who is being "controlled?".

Do you see the point here?

They both have this thing in their bodies, and they are both under its influence. Neither Amane nor Tsukasa want to kill anyone, in any reality.

The only psychopath that exists here is the entity.

Don't worry!!!!!!! Thank you!!

[rafyki]

Episode 11 really showed Jack's growth

Okay, I know what you're gonna say: "but he lashed out at Joke! He threw him away again! He got so angry!". And like- yes he lashed out, yes he didn't stop to think, yes he got extremely angry. But that literally happened in the first ten minutes of the episode, alright? There's more than a hour after that, so please let's focus on everything else that happened too, and the fact that Jack acting like that literally only lasts for a short while (as I already said, everything happens extremely fast in this episode, if you really think about it he only stays made for less than a day, which is a perfectly valid period of time to need to sort through complicated feelings - hell, it's an incredibly short time, Jack got over himself extremely quickly).

Anyway, lemme go in order, because I'm not just talking about his relationship with Joke here, but about everything else too.

There are two main things about Jack's character arc (well, more than two, but I wanna focus on these ones now): first, his tendency to hold grudges and be hard on forgiveness and, second, the fact that he never stands up to power and powerful people in an active way (I'll explain better what I mean later).

As for the first, I made a whole other post about it, so I'm not gonna repeat everything again, but let's see how in this episode he got to the end of his growth in this aspect.

He's extremely mad at the start of the episode (rightfully so), so much that he goes on a rampage (we love to see it, tbh), even though he should know that it wouldn't end well.

When he wakes up, he's still mad - of course he is, he didn't have time to think and process everything yet, given that he was beaten unconscious until now. He gets mad at Grandma when she mentions Joke, and then he lashes out at Save and Hope. It's understandable.

But then? Then it only takes Hope saying this for him to calm down and put things into perspective

I think it's important to point out that here it's only been maybe a few hours since the hospital scene. And here, Jack finally has time to think.

This it when he finally stops and thinks and realizes that he was wrong, that he didn't have any right to be mad at Save or Hope (or, well, he does, but how should also be able to understand their positions, because he's been there too), because they're all in the same situation in the end; and he realizes that Joke only did what he did for him. This is the moment when he finally has time to think and realize he was wrong (both about Save and about Joke), realize that he doesn't want to lose Joke, that he misses him.

Let's not forget that the start of Jack's character growth was to learn to forgive. And here, he shows that he's finally able to do this.

He works together with Save and Hope, he trusts them. Why didn't he call Joke to join them then? Well, I think he probably wanted things to calm down first so that after that he would have the time to actually talk to Joke. He didn't have the time to do that in the end, and that's the tragic thing.

But we know that's what he planned to do, because that's exaclty what he says.

Anyway, let's move on or this will become way too long lmao

It's not only in terms of learning to forgive that Jack grew. It's also in the way he finally decides to actively act to oppose Boss.

I mean, Jack was caught in Boss' web of power since he was young, and he's had to deal with the fact that he couldn't escape it, couldn't defeat it, for years. And so, he always submitted to Boss, in a way.

Yes, when he was a debt collector he went against him, in secret (and sacrificing himself and his own money), until Boss found out and Jack had to bow his head againt before him. When Gradma was in the hospital, he let himself in Boss' grasp again and even when Joke and Grandma slapped some sense into him his way to oppose Boss was to simply tell him he didn't want to marry Rose anymore, but was still willing to work for him; now, we know that that only worked because Joke had stolen the ring. What would have happened if Joke hadn't done that? Boss would have refused, of course, and Jack would have had bowed his head again.

Until now, Jack's actions were often passive, a result of him having no choice. Even when he played the ladder game against Lompran, that wasn't a real choice.

Not now, though. In this episode, Jack finally realizes that he can't keep doing it, that he needs to fight back for real. And this is the first time that Jack realizes that he can't always do the morally correct thing if he wants to defeat people like Boss.

Jack has always had really solid morals, and he's always lived by the fact that he needs to be better - better than the corrupted people in power who use them and look down on them. And that means he can't accept theft as a valid way to fix things, even if it would be justifiable and it would make things easier. But he can't do that, because that would mean that he's just as bad as them. Poor people are always expected to do the right thing.

Until now. Because now Jack has finally realized that he can't play it fair against people like them, he understood how that world works, and he realized that he needs to play following their game's rules.

He's learned the power game's rules and he's ready to play.

And that's what he does. He's able to take advantage of Lompran's greed and use it for his own ends, and he's not afraid of risking his own or Save's life - because he knows at this point that they can't play it safe anymore.

He played the game but he also kept his morals, because he still didn't do it for himself; he played their game but he's still better than them

Jack has mostly been a passive force until now, but in this episode he's finally the active force - he's the one with the plan, the one who takes the lead. (Joke, on the other had, has always been the active force of the show, and in this episode he's the passive one, but I'll make another post about this another day)

And I think this will be obvious in next episode too, when he'll (finally!) get a gun and do everything that's needed to save Joke and everyone else from Boss.

And he finally understood that the world isn't black and white and that sometime you need to do something "bad" to fight back, both for youself and for others. And that that doesn't mean you're a bad person.

[neverthebabysitter]

Steve has a bit of anger issues and a problem with repressed trauma so i thought it would be so funny if he would have got vecna'ed and talk back at vecna like if the mf can't just kill him on the spot.

I just imagine Steve being done with all his bullshit villain talk and call him a manchild freddy krueger wannabe who is so full of himself even when he has been defeted for three consecutive years by literally kids and teenagers.

Anyways, something something, here is something i wrote about it that i never finished.

—

And okay, Stress Steve didn't know how not to say things, he just gave away whatever thought he may have, it didn't matter if it was venomous or vulnerable, but most of the time just works to embarrass himself saying out loud his dumb thoughts, he just talks and, oh boy, he talks. 

Stress Steve didn't know when to shut up, Steve would say that he could be a Robin 2.0 but it was more about what he said than how much he talked (or rambled in Robin's case), which was more than he liked to admit.

Now, Afraid Steve wasn't much of a talker, he was more of actions, from freezing in place to just move. He gave barely any thought at what he would do but he did, maybe just a few seconds but he analyzed and thought about it. 

Contrary to popular belief he did think before acting, probably not enough, but he didn't have time to do that (Robin would– and did– argue with him about it).

The point is, when Upside Down shit happens Stress Steve and Afraid Steve kick in, so he has a weird combination of saying dumb shit and doing even dumber shit, like when he was literally yelling at a child, that child was Erica and she didn't even bat an eye, but still, you can get the point.

[Insert Steve and Vecna's talk]

So now not only he has Stress Steve and Afraid Steve in his system, Angry Steve has joined the mix and… listen, Steve is trying really hard to be a better person, he really is, scouts honor, but he knows that he can hurt people with his words. 

He would see the deepest insecurity and sore spot he can find and spit in it to make the other bleed, make them hurt, and if he couldn't find it he would instead make them snap, yeah, he is trying to stop but it is a part of him that it doesn’t quite go. It's in his blood. His DNA, or whatever.

He knows himself (he had to know himself if he wanted to be a better person– he doesn’t dare to think he can be a good person, just better, never good), that’s why he tries to just have Stress and Afraid Steve around when shit hits the fan because in the first round, Angry Steve appear and everyone knows how that went (I'm sorry Jonathan, I did deserve that punch). So Angry Steve is most of the time locked in a cage, deep down in some part of the still healthy brain that Steve has left.

Anyways, that doesn’t matter now, because Angry Steve has come out and is ready to spit at anyone who crosses his path, and maybe Stress and Afraid Steve can keep him on a leash but that doesn’t mean he isn’t there. Steve is just lucky enough that the one who crosses his path is Vecna.

How good is his luck that the moment he wants to make someone angry just like him, that the other one is a monster from another dimension that has quite literally his life in his hands and can kill him in any moment, ha.

Just his luck.

—

“Steve, What did you do?”

"I may or may not have called Vecna a Freddy Kruger wanna be"

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Pt 2. Of my one shot (will be posted as one big post on ao3)

Thank you for all the support! It's getting me through a tough time I'm going through rn in my travels. I had a short oneshot in mind like 1000 words but I think I'm gonna fluff it out.

-----

So it keeps...happening.

Eddie gets up, walks to the door, Steve's on the other side.

He pushes past Eddie and heads to his room.

Falls fast asleep.

He hasn't even been drunk the past two times.

This time is a little different.

Eddie's been sleeping next to him of course. How could he pass up the opportunity for something he's been dreaming about for years months weeks.

He can tell Steve's faking being asleep. He's breathing lighter, not the chainsaw snoring Eddie's grown used to. He's spread out like a starfish and Eddie is stiff on the edge of the bed. His face turned towards Steve, he can't resist staring at him.

Steve's eyelids flutter and Eddie's mind races with possibilities. Is he dreaming? Still awake? What's going on?

"Will you shut up and get over here," Steve mutters.

Is he talking in his sleep?

"Eddie." He opens one eye. "Get over here."

What the fuck.

He doesn't even have a second to panic before Steve reaches over and grabs him, successfully rolling him over into his arms.

"Finally." He nestles his face into Eddie's hair. "Give me a copy of your key I'm tired of waiting for you."

Eddie chokes.

"Steve." He strains. "What're you doing."

"Isn't it obvious? Sleeping."

----

Steve's a sweaty sleeper.

Eddie only knows because he wakes with his face in his BARE chest.

Yes he's been sleeping better since this started but at some point Steve's gonna have to give him an actual explanation.

How does he get out of this one? It's his trailer he can't exactly walk of shame it.

Steve's starting to wake up. He sniffles a bit and squeezes Eddie before letting go.

"Mornin." He rolls Eddie off and gets up.

"I'm going to work. Give me the key later."

....ok?!?!?! Eddie's sure he looks completely flabbergasted.

"Bye."

Eddie's watches him as he walks out.

Well...he's just gonna follow him. He needs answers. It's not like he hasn't been trying!

-----

"Ok!" He screams as he throws open the doors to family video. "I want answers!"

Robin looks at him in shock while Steve looks bored.

"What's this about?" Robin asks.

"Probably about us sleeping together." Steve says, bored.

"I'm...sorry...what's this?" Robin looks shocked.

"You know, that I've been sleeping with Eddie."

Robin whips to look at Eddie who doesn't look much better. They both are speechless, eyes wide, mouths open.

"No I do not know!"

"I'm restocking!" Steve yells as he walks past them into the back.

As soon as he's gone Robin stomps over to Eddie and punches him in the arm.

"OW!"

"What the hell doofus! You're sleeping with him? Why wouldn't you guys tell me! When was Steve even gay? I mean I know that- nevermind that's not important. You're dating!?!"

"No! I don't know!"

"How do you not know?!"

"We're not sleeping together! We're literally just sleeping in the same bed. We're...sleeping...together?"

Robin squints at him.

"You." She pushes a finger into his chest. "You better figure this out."

"Talk. To. Him." She jabs her finger into his chest between words.

----

Comment your thoughts! Comment your feelings! Comment!

I know it seems basic but I kinda had the thought of "what is Steve just took over the trailer because he needed to sleep without nightmares and then just never left"

More of this and my other oneshots coming soon!

I'll also be working on uploading everything I've ever written to my ao3 which is pinned on my profile

[amomentsescape]

Yay request are back! I loved your yandere slasher sleepwalking one shot so may I request another sleepwalking reader scenario?

But instead of sleep escaping they just roam around like a drunk saying cute things like about how much they love them and silly things like how the strawberries are so obnoxious always saying they're the best fruit while the reader is just sitting in the fridge and random stuff like that?

And the Slasher just finds it aboustly adorble and fondly giggle at their antics while lovingly guiding them to bed?

😴😴😴🤤🤤🤤🥰🥰🥰

Slashers with Funny Sleepwalking! Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

A/N: It's been a long time coming. I'm so sorry for the wait on this, and on anyone else's requests still sitting in my inbox. This was a joy to write though, so thank you!

Freddy Krueger

Who needs TV when Freddy has you?

You aren't really able to fully sleep in his world, so he comes to you most nights

He just flops into your still warm spot in bed and watches you stumble around the room

"Freeeedddy! I love you!" you coo over and over

And every time, he replies with a chuckle and an "I love you too"

You giggle and just stumble around some more, bumping into the same wall multiple times

When you finally come back to bed, you just fall right on top of him, not even noticing he's there

Michael Myers

You've woken up a few times in the morning to sore lips

(He duct taped them shut throughout the night)

He's not really home most of the time anyways, so it doesn't really matter

But when he is, the last thing he wants to deal with is you laughing and practically screaming at any object you bump into

He's quite literally locked you in the bedroom some nights so he doesn't have to hear your incessant babbling

"Michael, why is there glue on my cheek?"

He'll just shrug and walk off, tossing a broken glue stick in the trash

In his defense, the glue was nontoxic

Jason Voorhees

He loves to hear your random laughs and nonsensical talk of hysteria

You've grabbed onto his arm multiple times, using all of your strength to pull him outside to go on an "adventure"

"But, Jason! There's strawberry unicorns and feather fields out there!"

He honestly isn't sure if he should be laughing or feeling actively concerned for your wild sense of imagination

He always guides you lovingly back to bed while you have the cutest pout on your lips

"But it's time to explore!"

He just kisses your head and places the blanket back around you

It only takes a few seconds for you to fall peacefully back asleep again

Thomas Hewitt

You're going to make this man go into cardiac arrest

You're sleep talking is adorable, of course

But what isn't adorable is how you think each one of his carving knives is a toy doll

"This one is so pretty! What should we name her?" you asked all giddy

Thomas's smile turns to one of horror as he watches you swing his freshly sharpened butcher's knife around like it was flying

"Weeee!" you squealed happily, only to drop the knife two inches from your foot

Thomas about died

Since then, he makes it a point to lock you both in the bedroom each night

He'll happily indulge in your fantasy like dreams from there

Bubba Sawyer

He literally sets an alarm so he can see what made up conversation you're going to have each night

He'll follow you around, giggling with you about whatever you have to say

"And then I told him to go away cuz why would he say that my favorite fruit isn't his favorite fruit? Who does that? Oh, and then he went and..."

And Bubba just holds your hand and hums along with you as if he's listening

He has no idea what you're talking about most of the time, but hearing your sleepy voice is just so heartwarming, he can't help it

You always wonder why you wake up in the morning sounding like a dying frog

Brahms Heelshire

Oh, Brahms eats it up

You're constantly on a rampage going on and on about how much you love him and how much you need him

And this is exactly what he wants to hear

The moment he feels you stir in the middle of the night, he rolls over and holds you tight, making sure your sleeping actions don't cause you to leave the room

"Is there anything on your mind?" he asks softly

The moment you hear his voice, a big goofy grin spreads across your face

"Oh, Brahms! I love you soooo much. I wish I could just be here with you forever!"

Do you even know what you're saying? Of course not

But Brahms will do everything he can to believe it

Norman Bates

Norman is certainly guilty of staying up too late reading some new novel that has him engrossed

You've almost scared him a few times when he turns to look at you only to be met with your open eyes and droopy smile

"I like the bagels that jam," you say sweetly

Norman just looks at you in a confused smile

"Sure you do, honey"

You just smile and flop your head onto his arm

"Jam jam bagel. Jam jam bagel," you whisper-sing

Norman just chuckles quietly and goes back to his book, letting you continue your random sleepy talk

Billy Loomis

Billy just wakes up with a groan each time

"Babe, please just go to sleep"

"But the caterpillars! They're hiding..." you say, rolling all over the place

He replies with his usual grunt and rolls over, flopping right on top of you

"They're gone now! How did you do that?" you exclaim

He puts his hand over your mouth

"We do this every night," he mumbles into your neck

He's just met with a snore as you've already passed back out

"I don't know how I put up with you," he says with a slight chuckle

Stu Macher

He wakes up to the sound of yelling and fast thumping coming from the living room below

He all but trips on his way downstairs, worried something was wrong

Except he is simply met with you running around in a blanket, yelling about incoherent nonsense

"The snakes! The berries! The fridge!" followed by an immediate laugh

Stu stands there for a bit before finally chasing after you, swooping you up into his arms

"No! They got me! I'll never surrender!" you yell at the top of your lungs

"And I thought I was the loud one," he laughs, carrying your wiggling frame back upstairs to bed

Vincent Sinclair

He wakes up in the middle of the night to a soft voice singing

This would honestly be terrifying in any other context

But since this is almost a nightly occurrence by now, he just responds with a sigh

"Then the fruit tree grows, and the fruit starts to fall, and the-"

Vincent picks you up and tosses you back into bed

"I can fly now!" you yell, kicking your feet

He can't help but smile at your behavior

It might be two in the morning, but seeing you so goofy and free warms Vincent's heart

Just please don't sing so loud anymore, or else Vincent is going to get an earful from Bo the next morning

Bo Sinclair

He can hear you banging around in the kitchen

And he's about to storm out there to complain how it's 3 in the morning, and you shouldn't even be awake right now

But instead, he finds all the food on the floor as you try to wedge yourself inside the fridge

"Lava. There's lava everywhere," you're muttering

"Darlin' what in God's name are you-"

"Bo! You're on fire! Hurry! Hop in!" you yell, trying to make room for him in the cramped fridge

He just lets out a frustrated sigh

"Not tonight, sweetheart."

He quickly picks you and carries you back to the bedroom

"I didn't know you could walk on lava!"

[alchemistc]

Apparently the pumpkin pie I made two days ago is almost gone and the bf and I only had one slice each.

We live in this house for free and the bf's mom is out of state at least half the year. I have no right to make demands of her.

But she leaves her dishes soaking in the sink without bothering to even scrape off the leftover food in them, she uses entire bags of flour and a full dozen eggs she doesn't replace (to feed the people she works for, not even for the house) (and then gets defensive when I very politely ask her if there is any more of *insert item here*), every snack food is depleted by half before we can even get to it, when she offers to get groceries and we give her BARE MINIMUM shit (because again, we live in this house for free bc of her) she either forgets or gets something completely random neither one of us will use. I stock up her bathroom before every visit and still run out of toilet paper a week early. We do our best to avoid using big appliances during peak hours even though we don't pay that bill (it's just common decency to keep that energy bill low when someone else is kind enough to take care of it for us) but God forbid we ask her to wait an extra hour to load up her laundry. She got high a few nights ago during a cold snap, turned the thermostat up to 73, and then flipped the damn thing to Cool because she was cold but also not paying attention and thought the heat was OFF instead of just set low. (I literally just went through every setting and set them btw 63 and 66 bc again, we don't pay that bill). She over feeds the cat she left behind for us to take care of and every time we remind her that the cat pukes all over every time she gives her too many treats it feels like she spitefully gives the cat more treats. She hoards dishes until she's sure she won't have a witness for leaving them in the sink, occasionally soaking (see above). She fills up the trashcan out front and then gets miffed when we tell her we only pay for one can so no, she cannot leave more bags next to the can because 1) critters will get into it and 2) they won't pick it up.

I love her. She's sweet and kind and generous whenever she can be. She takes us out for dinner every time she's in town and she always brings trinkets back with her for us, makes sure we always get gifts for birthdays and Christmas even when we insist she doesn't need to. She spent an afternoon raking all the leaves on the lawn because our second cold snap FINALLY had the rest of the leaves drop and I'm doing my best to be completely normal about the fact that she used twenty-three trash bags to do it because she didn't want to crush the leaves once they were in the bag. She just spent three hundred bucks to replace plumbing that's desperately needed it that we've been putting off.

And I fucking knew that pie was gonna be gone before our mini-thanksgiving. Which is why I bought and HID a second pie crust and can of pumpkin, and only got Cool Whip for it this morning.

All this to say I'm never gonna say a fucking word about ninety-seven percent of these gripes because we live here for free.

But just once, it'd be nice if she asked if she could finish more than half a pie by herself in an evening, or even said something about it before she was back at work for two days and I had to discover it an hour before my turkey was finished.