#i have so much to say but i just realized i put way too many tags

[under-clouds-and-stars]

yeah, the ADF has several lines that are too reminiscent of prior pseudo-nationalist/revisionist rhetoric for comfort. hinting at the idea that germans are singularly guilted and down-trodden on the world stage and need to have a cultural reawakening to how great their history is bound to lead to a nationalist mindset. much of the emphasis put upon the holocaust in german society didn't come from outside influence, but by the next generation of germans upon reaching adulthood in the 60s-70s, and realizing how little they had been told about anything by their parents. i cannot speak to the way its presented in germany today, i've never been there, but the arguments used by some prominent afd members are nothing new in the "revitalization" of the holocaust legacy. the holocaust-in terms of the complacency needed and the industrial-ilke manner that it was carried out with-was entirely unique, and should never be forgotten.

i don't know tons about the adf in-depth, but they seem populist, which is a bad sign in and of itself. whatever legitimate concerns they have about immigration (and yes, there are plenty. islamic cultures have values that are absolutely contradictory to ones held in a modern-day germany, and so massive amounts of people from these cultures permanently moving in, without taking their troubling views into account, poses huge problems for the maintaining of civil rights, especially of women and jews) their rhetoric is worrying. undoubtedly several members of it have been outspokenly revisionist and have blown actual anti-semitic/racist dog whistles. if i were german, i would not vote for them. but i don't think that everyone voting for this party is a bona-fide white supremacist either, though; many people vote out of anxiety over what they see immediately around them and do not think in the long-term. that's just my view of it as a non-european, can't do any better than that.

for a man so obnoxious as to make holocaust jokes after being accused of nazism, him showing up on stream for the afd could be anything from just another show of how edgy-controversial he is, or genuinely buying into revisionist rhetoric. i don't claim to know his motivations for doing it, and i hope for everyone's sake he doesn't hold racist views in his heart. also, i dont see why an american should weigh in on german politics like that. i would certainly be pissed if some rich german phoned in to try and influence US politics, so i hate it on that principal alone

considering that he is an avid and vocal supporter of israel (reportedly even censoring tweets that referred to "de-colonization" of Gaza, which is definitely an overreach of his power) nazism would be a weird stance to take. whatever your view on israel and its actions, his insistence that the destruction in gaza is justified in order save israelis from genocide, and pouring tons of cash into the campaign of a pro-israel president, cannot be squared with him secretly hating jews and being a nazi. you can argue its all a front, but he's certainly put his money where his mouth is. he don't seem thoughtful enough to be playing 4-d chess or anything.

also, jic, i am aware that there was a movement among the nazis in pre-war germany to get european jews to immigrate to israel. because they hated them and didn't want them there. if millions of european jews had done so back then, do you think the nazis would've shed a single freaking tear about them being killed after the fact. the motivations behind these two positions are completely opposed, and i hate how often this is brought up because its disingenuous.

here's the thing. i do not argue that the video above does not look bad. it does. what i argue is that it is dishonest and unfair to paint anyone who has any doubt that he meant to do a nazi salute as a brainwashed idiot, shill, or a nazi. by and large that is what people on this site and others are saying, the insistence that everyone in that room knowingly and whole-heartedly applauded a sieg heil is ludicrous. side note, USA-only politics i know, but the whole freaking media circuit and the former VP tried to act like they had just noticed that biden was mentally impaired after his incomprehensible debate with trump went viral, when conservatives had been pointing it out for years. i didn't see progressive leftist-twitter going nuts and quoting 1984 over that.

i'm done spending my time on this fiasco. from a cursory at your blog and replies, we are so different we will never agree on a single point. you would consider me a "christofascist" i guarantee it. case in point: i first read "AFD" as "ADF" looked up the "Alliance Defending Freedom" and went "well, i gotta say; at first glance they seem pretty alright to me

make of that what you will ig

USA... Elon Musk just did the sieg heil (nazi salut to Hitler)

[dixonsdarkelf]

Not An Invitation: Daryl Dixon & Fem!Reader

Full title: This is not an invitation (fuck you mean you need it?)

Summary: Shane never knew when he wasn't welcome in someone's space, and he was often invading yours. After one time too many, a certain archer comes to your defense. Inspired by the song 'Invitation' by Ashnikko.

Era: Season 2, Greene Farm

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: No use of y/n, swearing, Shane being a major-league creep

“I told you to leave me alone,” you protested. The anger you’d been able to keep at bay thus far threatened to bubble over, simmering just below boiling point under the surface. You were usually the more relaxed one in the group—calm, level-headed, and rational. You hated confrontation and aimed to avoid it at all costs. But you’d had enough.

Shane took a liking to you from the moment you arrived at the farm. He’d often find ways to get close to you, even if what he was supposed to be doing was nowhere near where you were. You’d told him to scram on more than one occasion, usually under the guise of needing to scamper off to do your chores.

One thing about Shane, however, was that he didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“All I said was you’re lookin’ good today,” he repeated. With an eye roll heavy enough to nearly roll your head back with it, you rose from your spot on the porch and started walking away, knowing the asshole deputy was close behind.

“That isn’t all you said, and you know that,” you snapped, not so much as turning your head back to look at him as you kept walking. He’d said far more than just that, as he often did. His other commentary made your stomach churn, and it was enough for you to not ever think of repeating it.

“C’mon, it’s just a little harmless fun,” he sighed, picking up his pace to catch up to you. You swallowed hard and kept your eyes on the field in front of you. The only one having fun in this situation was him.

“Hardly call it harmless,” you scoffed. You heard him catch up to you, but before he could get close enough to reach for your arm, he was, as he would have put it, “rudely interrupted.”

Your saving grace approached from your peripheral, slipping past you without a word to confront the man on your heels. He stood between you, not quite completely shielding you from Shane’s prying eyes, but close. You couldn’t see, but you pictured his beautiful, piercing baby blues searing through Shane. It brought a hint of a smile to your face to know that, of all people who could’ve come to your defense, the handsome archer was the one.

Daryl Dixon was the quietest one of the group, often keeping to himself in his tent on the outskirts of your makeshift campsite. You’d heard him equated to a feral dog, minus the possible rabies. He was more than just a little rough around the edges, but you saw right through it. You knew there was more to the man behind the crossbow.

Shane had taken a liking to you, but you had taken a liking to Daryl.

“Think she said to back off,” Daryl cut in. You looked up at him. eyes traveling from his chestnut locks to his broad shoulders and up to the beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck. Some would say it was from the heat. Others might say it was from anger.

“Don’t think I was talkin’ to you, Dixon.” Having been a cop in the old world, Shane was used to bossing people around without any back talk. His voice was rigid, sharp enough to slice through anyone who got in his way. Except for Daryl.

“Dun’ think she was wantin’ to talk to ya,” he repeated, more stern this time. He held his crossbow firmly in his hands, 

You’d never seen him use it on anyone in the group

When Daryl didn’t so much as flinch, Shane took one last look at you before walking off, his tail between his legs. You hadn’t realized that every muscle in your body tensed up, but the moment Shane was out of sight, you relaxed, quickly steadying yourself. Once you did, you went to turn to Daryl, but during your moment of unsteadiness, he’d pondered off. You would just have to thank him later.

Later that afternoon, after all your work had been completed, you wandered over to Daryl’s tent, half-expecting him to not be there. Yet there he was, carving a stick into a bolt for the thousandth time. You ran a hand through your hair to brush it out of your eyes before gathering the courage to get close enough to talk to him. Once you were only a few feet away, he looked up at you, those gorgeous pools of blue making your heart stop.

This was the closest in proximity you two had ever been while alone.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you,” you said, your voice timid in comparison to your usual confidence. You had no evidence that you’d spooked him, but you were nervous, and not knowing what else to say to start the conversation, that’s what came out.

“Dun’ get spooked,” he replied, focusing his attention back on the stick in his hands. The movements of his knife were fluid, easy, like he’d done it so many times, he could do it in his sleep. It was simultaneously attractive and terrifying.

“I, umm…” your voice trailed off, the whole monologue you’d prepared in your head being dwindled down to two simple words as your nerves took over, “thanks, Daryl.”

He looked back up at you again. “For what?”

“For earlier,” you explained, “for what happened with Shane.” You lowered yourself slowly, hesitantly, as if you were still deciding whether or not to sit down despite doing so. You made sure to keep your distance as to respect his personal space.

“Wasn’t nothin’,” he assured, pausing his handiwork, “asshole’s bein’ a creep. Someone had to put ‘em in his place.”

A small smile graced your lips. “Well, if meant a lot to me.” He simply nodded and continued what he was doing, but you weren’t finished. “He said a lot worse, y’know? You just weren’t around for that.”

Daryl’s gaze scanned over you, like he was trying to read between the empty spaces of your words, eager for more details but not pressing. He’d known Shane for far longer than you had, and he was well-aware of the kind of shit he’d said to women in the past. The thought of him saying such vile things to you made him sick, but he kept his expression stoic, same as always.

You echoed your earlier words, your voice thick with emotion. “So…thank you.”

“Dun’ mention it,” he reassured. For a brief moment, you thought you’d caught a glimpse, a tiny hint, of a smile from the archer. However, it was so quick, almost like a glitch, and you couldn’t be sure.

“Do you mind if I stay here for a while? I don’t exactly feel like going back to the others yet,” you confessed. 

“Long as ya promise to be quiet,” he teased, “had enough yappin’ from Sheriff Shithead already.”

You chuckled softly and dropped your gaze for a moment before meeting his again. For a brief moment, his heart stopped, taking in the stunning sight and sound in front of him. Your laugh was like music to his ears. “I can do that.”

The silence between you was soft, comfortable, the only sounds around you being the birds in the trees and his knife scraping across yet another stick. And you sat just like that for hours, not bothered that barely a word was exchanged.

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract @dixons-sunshine

GIF and copyright below by me, sparkle dividers by @anitalenia

[nemisuki]

Intertwined

Dating AU | He wasn’t aware such a small insecurity could affect your relationship that much. Lucky for him, she seems to know how to ease his worries away. 

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, no manga spoilers, pure fluff, no smut, no angst, reverse comfort lowkey, aged up to third years, they're both whipped, two idiots in love, wholesome short oneshot, 821 word count

His brows furrow with frustration at the glistening skin - small droplets of sweat already beginning to form at the surface of his palms.

Bakugos mood immediately getting ruined at the sight of it.

He takes pride in many things in his life, one of them being his quirk, the ability to create explosions from mere sweat is truly an odd but valuable power.

One that needed proper training to get used too and eventually perfected. But there was always one problem that remained and perhaps is unavoidable.

Excessive sweating.

At first it was manageable, he simply wiped it away on his pants, not thinking much of it.

Though as time went on, it grew out of control. Perhaps it was a side effect of puberty now that their seniors in highschool, who knows?

What he did know was that it was beyond irritating.

Maybe this was his karma for being too cocky in the past. He assumed his quirk had no downsides he couldn't manage, but the gods just had to humble him.

For an over hygienic guy - this was probably his worst nightmare come true.

Especially now that he has a girlfriend.

"Cmon Katsuki, we gotta return to the dorms before curfew!"

She quickly grabs a hold of his hand, cheerful expression on her face, a bright smile that could battle the sun.

Oblivious to the swirling thoughts in his head.

Dating was a concept he never thought he would experience - til he met Y/N. As a new couple he didn't expect this personal issue to have such an effect on his relationship.

But here we are.

He flinches at her touch, swiftly extracting his hand from hers, simply praying she didn't notice his clammy hands.

Her face instantly falls, switching to one of worry and hesitation, "Katsuki? Hey what's wrong?"

The blonde didn't know what else to do but stay silent, avoiding eye contact with her as he tried to think of something to say, subtly wiping his hands on his school uniform.

Feeling embarrassed to tell her about this 'problem' he's been recently dealing with.

"It's nothing."

Noticing the clear shift in his demeanor, she tries connecting the dots and gives him an apologetic look, "I'm sorry if you were uncomfortable with holding hands! I should've asked first since you hate PDA." 

His head snaps back at her, realizing the careless mistake he just made, "No no that's not what I- uh"

He sighs as irritation begins bubbling inside him, directed at himself for making her worried over something so trivial.

"It's not that dummy. My hands are..." he looks away once again. Feeling self conscious all of a sudden - opening up has never been an easy thing for him.

She notices the tip of his ears burning with a pink hue, rare shyness creeping in his voice, "My hands get sweaty a lot because of my quirk."

A moment of silence passes between them.

"It's been out of control lately so-"

His words waver as he feels her pinky finger slowly wrap around his own. Her eyes soften as she stares up at him, a look of understanding on her face.

"Ah I see. Then this is fine right?" she smiles, tilting her head to get a better view of his face.

 ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

"...Yeah sure, whatever" he clears his throat, avoiding her gaze completely.

She giggles at his cute demeanor, not used to seeing him like this, just thinking how soft this blonde truly is under all the walls he put over his heart.

He doesn't say much as they continue their walk back towards campus. His heart doing somersaults in his chest at the contact.

"It doesn't bother me by the way" she mumbles, smiling up at him again, "I just want to be next to you."

"You're such a sap."

He pinches her puffy cheek with his other hand - making her whine in response, trying to distract the effect her words have on him.

A small laugh escapes him as he mushes her face to form pouty duck lips, rolling his eyes at her unintelligible words of plead.

"So fucking dramatic." 

Whether to shush her up or satisfy his own desires, he quickly leans down and presses a small peck to her puckered lips. Letting her face go a second after, making the poor girl flustered and silent with shock.

"What was that for?" she says, fidgeting with her sleeves like a love struck fool.

"Tch, can I not kiss my own girlfriend?"

He spins around to walk away - making her rush to catch up, a knowing look on her face.

"I know but in public? Katsuki you sly dog~" she cooes, trying to rile him up.

"Fuck off."

"Love you too!"

At her continuous laughter and teasing, all he could do was put a fake frown on his face, but only from her eyes - she could see the small smile underneath it all.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| im really sorry for not posting much u guys! i kinda lost motivation these past couple of weeks but im finally feeling better. i actually relate to this so much bc i sadly suffer from hyperhidrosis. If you don't know what hyperhidrosis is, it's "a medical condition in which a person exhibits excessive sweating". So im basically bakugo irl u guys! one side effect is that my hands are constantly clammy and it's so annoying, me and katsuki twinning fr. my apologies go out to fellow people like us, this condition sucks so bad *sighssssss* tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

[butternutt613]

PSA!!! IT IS OKAY TO CHANGE YOUR STORY HALFWAY THROUGH OR TO NOT HAVE IT BE PERFECT!!!

Fanfic writers (myself included) are way too hard on ourselves sometimes. I was chatting with a few amazing creators on Discord about this, and I realized just how much pressure we put on ourselves to make everything perfect.

Let me remind you: it’s completely okay if your story isn’t flawless right out of the gate.

The way I see it, fanfics, and most things posted on AO3 or Wattpad are like first drafts. ESPECIALLY!!!!! when you’re still actively writing your story. You’re still figuring things out, shaping the narrative, and building the world. It’s not set in stone, and it’s okay to make changes as you go. Hell, completely rewrite it!

So many of us get caught up in trying to make our stories perfect from chapter one because we’re scared that if it’s not, no one will read it. I experience imposter syndrome so hard lol

But NEWSFLASH!!! Even published authors don’t create flawless stories from the start. Their first drafts are messy, full of edits, rewrites, and changes. Entire chapters get cut, characters get reworked, and sometimes entire backstories get scrapped. AND THEN!!! EVEN WHEN THEY THINK THEY ARE DONE!!! THEIR EDITORS GIVE THEM 39 THINGS TO CHANGE!!!

If that’s how the ‘pros’ do it, why are we holding ourselves to an impossible standard?

And I’m going to be so real with you right now… 99.99% of the time, the characters we write about aren’t even canon or have never even interacted in canon or only had 2.3 lines of dialog (I'm looking at you, Jegulus….)

That’s the magic of fanfiction. You get to create something ENTIRELY NEW. You get to take these characters and give them experiences and a life the og author never did or never could. Fanfiction is about imagination and creation, not about rigid rules.

There will always, ALWAYS, be someone who says "you're doing it wrong” or “that character wouldn't do that” and I'm sorry to break it to them but idk if you know this but… THEY AREN’T REAL!

If I want these two guy best friends to kiss, I will! If I want my MC to save Anne by perfecting Isadora’s magic, I will! If you want Ominis to say “fuck you” to his family or Sebastian to become a healer or an auror or a potions master, then GODDAMMIT YOU DO THAT!

BECAUSE YOU ARE WRITING YOUR STORY!! It is YOURS, not anyone else's. You’re the author. Your creative process is valid and so is your work, even if you decide to change direction halfway through. (Elsa was originally going to be evil…)

There will always be haters. Even when something is canon, there are people who’ll criticize it (seriously like look at flat earthers….) That’s why you can’t let the fear of criticism hold you back. Write what YOU love. Create what brings YOU joy. The right people will find your work and appreciate it for what it is.

At the end of the day, fanfiction is about expression and connection. Whether you’re writing for an audience of hundreds or just for yourself, it’s yours. You’re building a world, shaping characters, and sharing something that came from your heart. And that’s what makes it meaningful. So stop being so hard on yourself. Keep WRITING. Keep CREATING. KEEP COMING UP WITH FUN HEADCANONS!!!

Your story deserves to be told. And you deserve to have fun and love doing it.

*mic drop* *peace sign*

[metaphorfordeath]

Anti-Psychotic

A person living with schizophrenia finds that their delusions may have more basis in reality than they thought. Originally published in the Fall/Winter II issue of Diet Milk Magazine, available here. Content warnings for depiction of psychosis, violence, ableist language.

No one is watching me.

Julie has me write that down at our session. She never listens to me. She says, it can be comforting to realize that people don’t think of you as much as you think they do. I know this already. She asks, what evidence do you have that you are being watched? I say there isn’t any. Just a feeling. She writes something down, and asks about my meds again. 

So fucking patronizing. Of course I take them. I have taken mine like clockwork, every day, for five years. Maybe I missed a few days, but who doesn’t forget sometimes. My meds are cleat spikes jabbing into the earth. Helping me keep my footing. Making sure I don’t slip.

Last week I started getting the prickle again. Like fingers up my back. Someone standing behind me, breathing. I live alone. When I felt it, I wasn’t scared at first. These things happen sometimes. I’ve been around the block. The prickle and I are old friends, practically. When it finds me, I have ways to forget it. 

I drew the blinds, which helped a bit. I had a drink—nobody's perfect—but the prickle didn’t dull. So I peeked through the shades at the street below. Normal street stuff. The sun was setting, painting the world in shades of fire. Cars went by, all the usuals. Some kids were yelling in a driveway. A wasp tapped at my window, wiggling its feelers at me. No obvious source for the prickle. So, probably nothing. For the rest of the evening I puttered, read my book, ate some frozen nothing heated in the microwave, and took my meds. The prickle was temporary, I told myself as I lay down to sleep, the usual fog settling over me in a cool, clammy layer. No one was watching me. No one ever is.

That was a week ago. It’s only gotten worse since then. The prickle turned into a terrified stomach ache that kept me up for nights and nights. I called in sick to group, told Cheryl the caseworker that I have the flu. She sounded alarmed, but she’s only worried because of what happened to Devin.

Devin was like me: good at meds, good at therapy. We were friends, in a psycho kind of way. A few weeks ago, Devin started to get bad. Stopped showing up to group, didn’t even call. I haven’t seen him in a while, even when I went looking for him in his usual bad places. I miss him. I told Cheryl not to worry. I’m steady, just sick. I’ll see her again soon. 

I keep taking my meds, but they aren’t helping like they should. The fog I count on to sleep is thin, or missing. Something scrabbles at my skin from underneath, and I keep catching myself scratching little bits off of me. When I lay down, a low, neutral voice whispers nonsense at me through the pillow I clamp over my head. I can’t shower; that’s when the prickle gets stronger. Someone standing on the other side of the shower curtain, someone looking down at me through the water stain on the ceiling. I hiss and babble out loud just to hear myself talk, to shut up the voices that aren’t mine. I get sicker by the day.

By now I haven’t been outside in over a week, but my meds are ready to pick up. I don’t want to miss a dose, so I put on shoes and the big jacket that makes me feel safe, and I go outside. Birds leer at me from the tops of buildings. Walking in the opposite direction, an old lady frowns at me.

“Hmph, same to you,” she snaps.

My stomach lurches, but I don’t say anything, just keep walking. I hadn’t spoken. Had I? 

The drug store is brightly lit. It hurts to be inside. Too many things to look at. Faces on packaging look strange now. Confrontational. Interrogative. But at least they look like faces. When I look at anyone real, their features shift. Static snow eats at the air around their heads in a halo. It frightens me, so I keep my eyes on my shoes. The pharmacy tech who’s always there gets the packet for me, rings it up.

“Any questions about your medication?” he asks. I shake my head, pay with a card. He has glasses that give his face a sort of stability, so I look at it. His eyes are brown, beard gray, no hair on his head. He smiles at me. “Have a nice day, miss.”

“You too,” I mutter.

And then I go home, have to stop myself from running for safety. The walk is twenty minutes each way; harrowing, the passing cars huge and hungry, huffing and snorting at me. The prickle is more than a prickle by now. It feels like someone is pulling out the hairs on the back of my neck, one by one. My heart thuds against my ribs so hard that I’m afraid it will burst out, plop on the sidewalk and keep throbbing without me. The paper bag with my pills turns damp and tattered in my sweaty hand. 

And getting home doesn’t even help this time.

Julie says too much TV can be a trigger for me, but I start leaving it on all the time. Noise beats silence, any day. No empty spaces that need filling. I can’t watch sitcoms or anything fictional, so I tune it to the news. The news is always. Steady, real, factual. There’s a story about a body they found by the freeway. Pushed out of a moving car. No one knows or cares who it was. There’s a picture of the scene, taped up yellow and covered in those little numbers that say where a bit of evidence is. A tattered jacket lays in a ditch, dark with blood. 

I stand and race to the bathroom, cool porcelain against my hands, bile and nothing coming up as sweat pours down my back. My head pounds, edges of my vision sparkling. I can only see the jacket. Not dirty or bloody or ruined but the way it used to look. Devin’s jacket.

Something is horribly wrong. Men-in-black wrong. The-end-is-nigh wrong. 

The prickle wasn’t imagination. It was intuition. 

Someone got Devin. Who else did they get before him?

---

The next week, I force myself to go to group. I need to see faces. See who else is there, or not. Cheryl picks me up for these, since I don’t drive. I’m sicker than I can remember being, and try to remember to ask Julie about my dose on Tuesday. I sit silently in the passenger seat, feeling Cheryl’s eyes on me. Caseworkers all have the same eyes.

“Feeling alright today, X?” 

My name isn’t the name she calls me. You don’t need to know it.

“Fine,” I say, pinching my hands between my knees. They shake if I don’t. “Still getting over that flu.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she says. Her sedan has beige fabric seats. The passenger seat is dark, stained with sweat and whatever else from all the people she’s ferried around. A vanilla air freshener dangles from the rear view mirror.

Someone shouts in my ear, so close I feel a little blast of hot breath on my neck, and I flinch. Cheryl looks at me suddenly.

“Everything okay?”

She didn’t hear that. “Yeah. Sorry. Weird itch.”

“Hmm.” 

Group is fine. It’s usually fine. I don’t say much this time, just look around at everyone in their folding chairs. Their faces are wrong. It makes me nauseous to look, but I look anyway. I need to see who isn’t here.

There are no empty chairs, but there are fewer. One or two down from usual. All the other regulars are here, picking at their skin or looking at the clock or chewing their hair. I glance across the room and for a second I think I see Devin, sitting in his old coat. But when I look again, it’s just Tom. I almost hoped.

When it’s over, there’s bad coffee to drink. I suck on a red straw and let the bitter taste anchor me to my tongue. I inhabit my body, touch my fingers to the side of my face to know that it and my fingers exist. Sufficiently convinced of my realness, I go to Amber, our de facto leader.

She’s drinking water from a bottle with cucumber slices in it, cloudy with pulp and seeds. Ectoplasmic. It makes my stomach turn.

“Amber,” I say. My voice feels far away. She looks at me, expectant. “I missed last week. Have you seen Greg, or Mariah?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t. Greg was here last week, but I haven’t seen Mariah since like, last month. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

A crinkle appears between her eyebrows. I focus on that, since the rest of her features won’t stay put. “You’re worried because of what happened to Devin?”

“I think Devin is dead.” There is a sudden hush as other people in my vicinity overhear. “I saw his jacket. On the news.”

Cheryl appears beside me. “X, would you like to talk in the hallway?” 

She pulls me out before I can answer. “Have you been feeling alright?” she asks again. “Taking your medication?”

“Yes,” I say, a little forcefully. She clicks her tongue.

“Really? Because if you need to move up your next appointment, I can make some arrangements for you.”

Despite the fact that I do want to move my appointment up, her tone hits a button in my brain and my face turns red. “No,” I say. “I’ll wait until the next one. I’m fine. I just need to know what’s happening.” A rancid taste creeps up the back of my throat. “Where are people going?”

“Honey, everyone’s here that needs to be here.”

“No—that’s not right. I need to know.” 

I can tell from the way she moves that she thinks I’m getting agitated. She doesn’t understand what I’m saying. “People call in sick sometimes. You did, just last week. Mariah was having issues sticking with the program, so we’re working something out. No one’s gone.”

“Devin is gone. Devin is dead. He’s dead and no one knows it.”

Cheryl comes closer, her voice so low and venomous that it starts to meld with the others. “I’m going to give Dr. Bern a call and try to get you in with her sooner than Tuesday. If you can’t keep up with your regimen, we’ll have to consider another in-patient stay.”

Anger chokes me until my vision goes white. “Okay,” is all I can manage. I have some unsavory thoughts, which I won’t repeat to you now.

“Good,” says Cheryl, holding my leash. “Let’s get you home.”

I don’t sleep. I don’t even try. Someone is watching me. I think about Devin, the last time we spoke before he was gone. He got paranoid, too. He jabbered sometimes, when we would see each other. The same face, he said, with glass eyes. Looking at him. Following him. He said his pills were replaced, his furniture moved, nothing looked the same as he’d left it. No one listens to me, he said. I’m scared, he said. I’m scared of what will happen next.

“I’m scared, too,” I say to no one. A chorus laughs at me. 

---

“So,” says Julie. “Cheryl told me you’ve been having some trouble sticking to your medication.”

“I stick to it,” I say, and set the pill bottle on the desk in front of her. “Count them and tell me I’m not.”

She doesn’t move to count them. I’d hoped at least that she would humor me. “It sounds like some of your persecutory thoughts are returning. Tell me about what you’re worried about.”

“I saw on the news that they found someone’s body in a ditch off the interstate. They showed pictures. I think the body was Devin.”

“Devin from your group?” I nod. “We actually just heard from him last week. His brother answered when we called his phone. Devin is currently in a private rehabilitation clinic in Cincinnati. He’s alright, X.”

A numb feeling falls over me all at once, like a sheet. Something crawls up my thigh and disappears into a deep hole in my flesh. “Oh.”

“Amber talked to us, too. She said you asked her about Greg and Mariah’s absences this week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I followed up on those for you, too. Greg had an accident at home and was in the emergency room during your meeting time this week. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to reach Mariah personally, but her father informed me over the phone that her family has pulled her out of the program. She won’t be returning.” Julie leans across her desk. “X, can you please look at me?”

I look at her. Her face is twisted, like a mask, papier mâché, drooping strips of plaster bandage. The static threatens to consume her, and me.

“I’m going to increase your dose to eighty milligrams. For now you can take two of what you have at the usual time, but I’m sending in a new prescription to the pharmacy.” She scrawls something on a pad at hand, and I take the opportunity to look away. “I’ll see you again this time next week, okay? And if anything’s the matter, you can call the nurse’s hotline. We’ll take care of you.” She hands me the script. 

“Thank you,” I say, and then someone brings me home. I am silent for the drive. Thinking.

Wasn’t Devin an only child?

I start doubling my dose. The fog doesn’t come. The prickle intensifies into ceaseless paranoia. I check the window locks three times a day to make sure, even though I live on the third floor. Chair under the doorknob, empty bottles stacked on it so I’ll hear if someone comes. I can’t stop thinking about Devin, and the others. Were they all really fine? Was this just a breakthrough-breakdown, pills ceasing their function and leaving me alone, spiraling? 

I hadn’t tried calling Devin in weeks. He didn’t pick up the first few times, and anyone in that state doesn’t usually want to talk anyhow. But Julie said someone answered when they called. Maybe they would answer for me.

The phone buzzes. Surging forward and receding, like a tide. Devin could be there on the other end. Getting better. Being cared for. I close my eyes and wait to hear his voicemail, or something else.

Click. “Hello?”

The voice startles me so much I can’t speak. A stranger.

“Hello?” says the phone. “Who is this?”

“Um,” I say suddenly, “Devin?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the voice says. “Devin isn’t here right now. May I ask who’s calling?”

“I’m—his friend. X,” I clarify. My voice is not of me. “Can I talk to him soon?”

“No, unfortunately he can’t talk. But I’ll let him know you called, he’ll be happy to hear people are checking up on him.”

“What’s—who are you?”

“I’m Eric, Devin’s brother. I’m taking good care of him, miss. Have a nice day.” 

The call ends. Something in my stomach shrivels. I run to the bathroom, but there’s nothing to bring up. I don’t know why that voice scared me so much. Why had I thought Devin was an only child? He hadn’t mentioned his family—maybe I’d just assumed, or forgotten if he’d said. Of course he had a brother. He was alright. They all were, now.

---

Days pass. Bugs make their homes in me. My medication runs out, the new pills ready for pickup. I’d rather die than set foot outside. But I need my stability. I steel myself to leave, and exit my apartment into the world. 

Everyone looks at me. They all want to hurt me. A car drives slowly past me and I try not to look at the people inside. My head hurts. It’s hard to see where I’m going, but I go.

The drug store is bigger than it was last time. Brighter. Angrier. People avoid me as I shuffle towards the pharmacy counter. The pharmacist who’s always there smiles at me again.

“Do you have any questions about your medication?”

I shake my head, fumbling for my card. He’s staring at me through his glasses.

“Do you need me to call someone for you?”

His voice makes me want to puke. I shake my head again, take the pills and make for the door. A crowd of voices shout at me as I stagger out into the air. I miss the way things were. My cleats don’t fit anymore. I tear the bag open, pop the lid off the bottle and shake a pill into my mouth, force it down dry and sticky and hope it does its job. My mouth is sweet where it lingered. It didn’t used to be so sweet.

There is a dull shock of understanding that blooms at the edge of my mind. The prickle rises on the back of my neck, and I look over my shoulder again. The pharmacist is looking at me from his position behind the counter. His face ringed in static. He waves at me. And I take off running.

There is no one I can call. No one who will listen. There are only doors that will slam in my face, white speckle tile and fluorescent lights and needles. He knows that. He knew it for Devin, too. He knew it for the rest of them. The wind in my face feels like fingers grasping at me, tugging at my hair, slowing me down. I race home, up the stairs and lock the door, brace it with furniture and then I sit on the floor and cry and cry. They’re laughing at me. Trading whispers. Look how stupid. Look how gullible. Go on and cry, crybaby. 

So I do. It’s all I have left.

The next time it’s group, I don’t come to the door. Cheryl calls me, but I don’t answer. There will be a wellness check if I don’t come. I want them to, now. When her calls finally stop piling up, I wait fifteen minutes, then step outside. I leave my door open, leave what I can to show that I am gone. I leave the pills out, and the script. Crush a few with my heel for good measure. I hope they can put the pieces together.

It’s dark, cool. It reminds me of the fog, makes me wish I could sleep. Eyes follow me through the evening. Headlights burn me as cars move past. I walk slowly in my big jacket, letting myself be watched. Letting the prickle come up my neck, creep over my scalp, trickle down over my face until it covers me in a thin layer and I prickle all over. The prickle and I are old friends. It tells me when to be afraid.

Then there are headlights at my back that don’t go away. The growl of an engine crashes into me. I stop walking, and someone gets out. I don’t turn to look. I can’t stand to look at faces anymore. Suddenly, I have a funny thought. Maybe I do have some questions about my medication, after all.

Something whistles through the air above my head, and the world disappears.

When I wake up later, I’m not sure if I have. There are stars. It smells like gasoline, copper and dirt. My jacket is gone. My mouth is gone, too. My hands. You’re caught, someone says in my ear, you let it happen. With my eyes, which I still have, I look across the floor. It hurts to look. There’s blood under me, sticky black. The prickle is gone. I discovered its source.

I’m alone for a long time. It’s hard to say how much. I realize that there’s a door behind me when it opens. Light falls across the floor, yellow tractor beam coming to take me away. I long to be weightless, but the earth won’t let me. Then the pharmacist who is always there puts his shoe against my face and turns me over. He doesn’t speak. He crouches down and looks into my eyes like he is trying to take something from me. Then he takes the tape off my mouth.

All I do at first is scream. It's all my body knows how to do. He sits and watches me. When I can see his mouth, it’s smiling, and I realize he likes it when I scream. So as soon as I can, I stop. Silence rushes back into the gaps, roaring in my ears.

“Good girl,” he says when I am quiet. His voice is a distorted growl, infrasound, rattling my eardrums. “Aren’t you such a good girl?”

I think about his throat in my teeth. I think about his blood on my face. For a moment it feels like I am lunging for him, jabbing thumbs into soft and fragile places. But he still has my hands, turning numb and purple at the small of my back. So I sit up as much as I can and spit at the floor near his feet. Faster than my eyes can track, he lurches forward. Fist in my hair, hauling me up to hip height.

He looks into my face with his glass eyes. His mouth is monstrous, all his white teeth sharp in a thicket of gray.

“I’ve been watching you,” he says. 

I know this already. There is nothing satisfying in the confirmation of it. 

He is not the man in black I always pictured. He could be anybody.

“Think of this as a favor I’m doing you.”

Then he hits me again. And other things.

When I’m alone, voices chatter in my ears. No one is coming, they say, you are alone. They will not find you. You and the ditch will be friends soon. So you amounted to this—better than nothing, we suppose. I shush them, rock myself against the cement floor and hum and think about grass, and birds. I try not to leave myself room to cry. I don’t want him to have the satisfaction.

A thousand years go by. Outside the room, there are voices. Not any of mine. His, and others. They start loud, and get quiet. His voice goes away completely. Doors open, distant, then closer. Light falls over my body again, and I feel the weightlessness. Real this time. My hands come back to me, but I can’t move them. There are faces, more than I’ve seen in a while. They scare me, but I can’t run, so I try not to look. Except at his. They take me past him, and I look. Through his glasses I see his eyes, still trying to take something from me. He has, by now. But not what he wanted.

I sleep for a long time, and when I wake up, the world is the way I remember it. My feet on the ground, cleats and all, not slipping. When I’m well enough they bring me to identify Devin’s body, since he didn’t really have a brother after all. They find Mariah’s, too. Greg really was in the emergency room, turns out. But there are others. Too many to think of.

Cheryl changes careers afterwards. Probably for the best. I find this out when she drives me to group the first time after I get out of the hospital. She doesn’t look at me much, but when she does, I can see her eyes are different. Not caseworker eyes anymore.

“Lauren is going to be taking over your case starting next week,” she says after a long silence. “So this will be the last time I see you.” I can tell she’s trying not to cry.

“Okay,” I say. 

She never apologizes. No one does. They all say they’re sorry for what happened to me, but that isn’t the same thing. People who don’t listen never think to apologize for it. They think they were listening all along.

Things are mostly the same as before, except I get my pills mailed to me now. And I think about Devin a lot. When I pour myself a drink, I pour one for him too and pretend he’s with me. I don’t have any pictures, so mostly I think about his voice. The last time we ever spoke, he told me, no one listens to me, X. 

What I said then was, I know the feeling, man.

But now I just tell him I’m sorry.

[croxxbow13]

The Sweet One

Warnings: language, mentions of violence and mild adult thoughts.

Takes place during Alexandria era. Just some musings as you’re trying to adjust to this new, impossible way of life… and trying to make sense of Daryl’s intoxicating presence.

A/N: Honestly, I’m not sure what this is. I just opened my notes app and just started putting words down. Will do a part 2 if theres any interest.

Please be gentle with me, its my first time.

It’d been three weeks since our group had stumbled into the walls of Alexandria, dirty, dehydrated and half starved.

Everyone had done the best they could to settle in, though it still felt like most of us were still holding our breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Places like this didn’t exist anymore.

At least, not for long.

We all slept in the same house, hell the same room for the first few nights, not wanting to let our guard down. The floor a patchwork of arms and legs and blankets, while the beds lay empty in their vaulted ceiling bedrooms.

After the things we’d experienced on the road, how could we not? Cannibals, rapist, psychopaths that tried to take us down, slaughtering their whole communities in the process without so much as a flicker of remorse.

I remember one night on the road, everyone sitting around the fire, Daryl said that the world really hadn’t changed all that much. People had always been shit. Now they were just more open about it. There was no reason they could see to keep those terrible things inside.

No reason to fear hell when we’re already there.

And now, to look into these strange smiling faces offering promises of food, walls, shelter… hot showers?

I stuck close to Carol for a while, trying to keep a low profile, putting on a nice face, but all the while keeping my ears tuned to the low whispers, the quiet conversations in adjoining rooms, listening, waiting for someone to slip up. To show the other side of the coin, but they never did.

It didn’t take long working in the small confines of the kitchen and pantry to feel like the walls were closing in on me. The daily droning of bored housewives going on about their ridiculous reasons to be at odds with their husbands, or gossiping about this person or that person… cackling together like a bunch of restless hens.

It reminded me too much of the old world. And I’d rather use an ice pick as a q-tip.

But thankfully, after some convincing - and maybe a little bit of begging - Aaron finally agreed to let me help with scavenging. He said that he, Daryl, Glenn and a few of the Alexandrians were going to be checking out a warehouse tomorrow a few towns over. Something about an old cargo depot.

I couldn’t give a shit less, as long as it gets me outside these walls for a little while.

I never thought it would be hard to transition back into some semblance of normalcy… but I feel like we’re all just kind of playing house. The people in this community have just as many dirty secrets as the people out there. The only difference is theirs is hidden behind neatly manicured hedges and eggshell tinted semi-gloss paint.

-

I’m sitting on the steps of Carol’s house when she returns home from another’s day work.

I say Carol’s house, but I guess it’s also mine and also Daryl’s. Though I’m pretty sure his residence here was just a given whereas I actually asked Carol if she minded that I stayed here.

Rick and Michonne have their whole family dynamic thing going on with Carl and Judith, so I would just feel like a fifth wheel.

Abraham and Rosita had room… but after being on the road with them and realizing how obnoxiously loud they are during sex… and don’t even get me started with fucking Eugene. I swear to God, when he starts rambling off at the mouth with his overinflated self importance. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve imagined cutting off that ratty ass mullet and gagging him with it. My luck though that would just add more material to his mental spank bank that he would recall as he’s beatin’ one out watching his compadres going at it.

I hate that I think about these things, and I hate that I have a vivid imagination because I immediately feel the bile rise in my throat, taste the acidic disgust on the back of my tongue.

I must’ve made a face because Carol stops and looks at me before she makes it to the steps.

“Well I’m glad to see you too.” She says, fighting back a sarcastic laugh.

I shake my head, trying to be reassuring while I’m still fighting the churn of my stomach.

“I’m sorry, just been a long day.” I say, giving her a lopsided smile. She puts a steadying hand on my knee as she swings around and takes the space on the step beside me.

She unbuttons her muted green sweater, or should I say her chosen costume of the day, and pushes up the sleeves. Usually she waits until she’s made it into the front door before she goes through her “becoming Carol” ritual that Daryl and I tease her about most nights.

We give her shit, but I gotta give it to her. She’s smart.

Seeing her now, It’s crazy to think of the transformation she’s undergone since I first met her back at the quarry. Back then she was so… small. And quiet. And just scared all the time. And I get it. Being beaten day in and day out by the person who should be your biggest sense of security will do that to you. Hell, the end of the world was probably the best thing that ever happened to her.

Daryl, too. Granted, he doesn’t talk much about his life before. But from witnessing his toxic ass relationship with his brother, I can only imagine that home for him was never really much of a home. And I’ve seen the scars. At least some of them. He didn’t get those from learning to ride a bike.

Dad was probably a drinker with no outlet for his anger. And Merle was probably old enough and big enough to at least get away from him eventually. I don’t know how much younger Daryl is, or was than Merle. But if I had to guess there was probably a solid 10 years that Daryl would’ve had to fend for himself. And Merle said it…

He was always the sweet one, my baby brother…

It’d made me so angry how he had said it so condescendingly. Like it was something to be shameful about. Like it was a weakness that should be hidden away. Because “real” men don’t show emotion.

Fuck him. I’ve literally watched Daryl rip out vocal cords with his bare fucking hands. And his arms… jesus christ, his arms.

Apparently I just sighed because now Carol has turned her attention towards me again. I clear my throat brushing non-existent dirt off the knees of my jeans.

“Want me to start on dinner?” I ask her, hoping the flush I feel creeping up my neck isn’t obvious.

She gives me a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s ok, I ate a little something before I left work. Daryl might be hungry when he gets in though, if you’re wanting to make something. I think we’ve still got stuff for some spaghetti.”

And then as if conjured up from the depths, Daryl turns onto the street from the way of the front gate, the sounds of his boots thudding lightly against the pavement.

Daryl didn’t walk, it was more a saunter if anything. That one hand always gripping the strap of his crossbow that laid across his chest, the other swinging by his side, always a little wider than necessary.

I wonder sometimes if he’s aware of how much space he takes up at any given moment. Though I could never bring myself to ask him, because then he’d want to know what I meant. And I had no intention of letting him know how small he made rooms feel when I’m in one with him.

He’d probably take it the wrong way and go brood in the woods for a few days.

That sweet baby brother.

I’m self admittedly pretty terrible at recognizing when someone’s flirting with me.

But Daryl… Daryl. Fucking. Dixon. Takes the cake with that one.

At times I wonder if he’s actually had any kind of intimate interaction whatsoever. And, oh to have been a fly on the wall…

Doesn’t mean I can’t try though, right?

I mean, it can’t be completely one sided. I’ve caught him stealing glances when he thinks he’s out of my line of sight. I mean, christ, we live in the same house together.

And god so help me, for as long as I live I will never forget the look on his face when I came out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel because he’d come back from a run early. I had my face down, trying to towel dry the rest of my hair and he rounded the corner as I was stepping into the hallway and I basically face planted his chest. It took him about three syllables worth of his sentence, his hands gripping my arms to keep me from stumbling backwards, before he realized that that single layer of cotton that hit just a little too high on my thighs was the only thing saving us from an even more awkward situation.

His eyes went wide as he’d snatched his hands away like he’d been burned. And the color that immediately flushed his cheeks made me want to sink my teeth into the vein that pulsed too quickly in the side of his throat as he dropped his head and retreated out the front door.

Damn… Im starting to sound like one of them.

“Perfect timing! Your ears must’ve been burning!” Carol’s chipper tone pulls me once again from my thoughts, though this time it’s not as welcome. Daryl’s boots scuff against the sidewalk as he comes to a stop in front of us.

“What d’ya mean?” He says, his voice gruff as his gaze bounces between the two of us. I’m still fighting off visuals of lips and teeth and tongues, so I just raise my eyebrows and shake my head, doing my best to avoid meeting his eyes.

“We were talking about dinner, you hungry?” Thanks, Carol.

Daryl shakes his head and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Nah. Not really.”

“Alright, well I’m going to go shower, that way you can get yours whenever you get ready.” Carol stood and turned for the door, giving me a small pat on the shoulder as she crossed the porch and disappeared into the house.

I looked at him then, and thankfully his attention was somewhere down the street.

The sharp orange streaks of light from the setting sun highlighted the beads of sweat on his brow, and judging by the dirt that clung to his arms and clothes, they’d had an eventful day.

Good. He always seemed to be in a better mood those days.

He was chewing on his bottom lip, as he always did when he was working a thought over in his mind. And I figure its as good a time as any to snap him out of it. Before he turns and I’m just staring at him like a fucking weirdo.

“Aaron’s letting me come with you guys tomorrow. Said that it’d be a good time for me to come along and see how you guys work together.”

He nodded slowly before he turned his eyes to me. “Yeah, he told me.” He slid his crossbow over his head and leaned it against the step railings before sitting down on the landing next to me.

And true enough, it now felt half the size as when Carol was sitting there.

“It’ll be good for ya,” he said, pulling at a string that hung loose on his glove. “Get out there an outta here for a while.” As he said it, his eyes scanned the other houses in the neighborhood… still looking for the cracks. For the slip of the stage props.

Maybe we’re not so different.

My eyes follow his gaze. And when I speak, it’s lower… only meant for us.

“You’re still looking for it too.” I say. It’s not a question. He turns his head and looks at me now. The dirt smudge across his cheek brings out the blue in his eyes.

His response is more of a grunt than a word. He wants to know what I’m talking about. Even though he already knows what I’m talking about. He just wants to hear me say it.

“You’re looking for the strings. For the wizard behind the curtain. This place can’t be as perfect as it looks from the outside. There’s something… there’s gotta be.”

He slowly nods and I know that he’s starting to realize the same thing…

Maybe we’re not so different.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon. I can only tell because that first faintly cool breeze that precedes the darkness is creeping between the houses now. And thanks to it, I’m now aware of the heat I feel radiating off of him. I didn’t realize that my arm was that close to his. Even through his jeans I can feel the warmth of his legs on the steps beside mine.

Why are my fucking ears hot?

And why do I have to fight the urge to lean over and lick the sweat off his neck.

Can you imagine the look on his face?

Stop. Stop.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I need to get up and go inside before I embarrass myself and just have to go knock on the door of the love nest and ask if I can big spoon Eugene.

Fuck that.

And then he bumps his shoulder against mine and suddenly I have no escape plan. I actually don’t plan on going anywhere. I actually would probably have to be pried off this step.

“Come on, we’ve got an early day tomorrow.” He says, and I can feel the words vibrate through my chest. He stands and grabs his crossbow, but he doesn’t sling it across his back like he usually does. He just holds it by his side, stretching out his other hand to offer me help up.

Sweet little baby brother

Naturally I go against my better judgment. Of course I do. I reach up and grab his hand and with little effort, he hauls me up and I’m now even more aware of how effortless he could just pick me up and snap me in half.

Or pin me against a wall.

Stop.

We’re toe to toe, though on different steps, which only adds to the way he’s towering over me. But I can feel his warmth. I can smell the sweet tanginess of his sweat that’s saturated his shirt. The earthy smell of the dirt.

He takes a step back, which part of me is thankful for. As I should be.

I know that if I ever genuinely made a pass at him. And it wasn’t reciprocated, things would probably never be the same between us. I wouldn’t be able to look at him. And he would probably never put himself in a position to be within arms reach of me again. Be it from fear or embarrassment or just the typical, awkward Daryl.

And I don’t want that.

But god damned, I want him.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

[huntersrequiem-if]

Nsfw - you don't have to answer if not comfortable

How would the ROs react to finding out the MC had a wet dream about them?

Like MC has been acting weird around them all day and they only figure it out because someone says something like, "Oh, they won't tell me who, but they said they had a weird dream about someone last night."

(I'm going to assume they're in a relationship at this point)

Oh? How rude to not tell him! See, if you told him this earlier it would been easier. But now? Well, he has to make it count, maybe a small... lesson. Astaroth spends the rest of the day between your legs, enjoying each sound that falls from your lips. When the sweet release is near he stops suddenly, head raised to rest on your quivering thigh. "Don't look at me like that, darling." He licks his lips, boasting an amused smirk. "I'll give you want you want... eventually."

Moon would notice immediately the cause of your weird behavior, but she would say nothing. Instead, her eyes sparkle, a mischievous smile on her lips. Over the course of the day, she would tease you with touches that were a bit too long, leaning forward a bit too low, the slits of her dress arranged just so to leave the imagination running wild. If you give her a look, she is the very picture of innocence. Wide eyes and fluttering lashes. Only when night falls, does she pounce. "Oh, don't be mad, my love." She giggles, lips pressing a trail of kisses down your neck. "Want makes everything sweeter, as they say."

They watch you with a quirked eyebrow, noticing the strange behavior. The way you can't quite seem to meet their eye, gaze darting away. Your fingers twitching, pressed against your thigh. Worry finds them easily, but they try to shrug it off. You will tell them later, when you're ready, surely. Only later, much later, does Night realize the reason of this strangeness. When you lean against the doorway, looking at them under heavy eyelashes, heat radiating off your posture. They hide the small wince with a glare aimed at the papers strew across the desk. Of which many occupied their day. A fool, too blinded by useless things to see what is right in their face. Pushing the paper off the desk with a sweep of their arm, they pat it with a smile. "Do take a seat." Their voice lowers, eyes roaming your approaching form. "I can spare a moment for you. Let's make it count, shall we?"

Santana is concerned. They noticed the sudden distance, the awkwardness in the air. Nibbling at their lip, they do their task absentmindedly, mind far away in search of a reason. Have they caused offense? A word spoken with carelessness? Should they apologize? Would it even matter if they don't know the offense? Their mind ruminates on this all day and the quality of their tasks suffers for it. In the end, they decide to ask someone. Perhaps someone else knows more. And what luck - the first person holds the answer! They thank them, but it leaves Santana with more questions than answers. A dream, a nightmare? With a sigh, they have no choice but to approach you. Would you take whatever comfort they can give? Only when they see the way you watch them, do they realize. A fierce blush rises from their neck to the top of their ears and suddenly they can't meet your eyes. "Oh." Their laugh is small and strangled, unsure. With a wince, they clear their throat. "I - um, we can... spend the night together." They have to resist the urge to facepalm, to turn tail and flee from the sheer awkwardness. Thanks the gods you look more amused than put off. "But, for the future, please tell me if you have those kinds of dreams. I - I could've helped way earlier."

???: Do with it what you will!

[vixen7243]

Part 2

Masterlist | Original Thought | Pt. 1

TF141 X AFAB!Reader (Soon)

Tag list: @the-faceless-bride @persephone-kore-law

*Persephone had given the brilliant idea of being closeted bisexual to add to the drama...And of course I'm going to run like a maniac with it because YEESSS, as one myself, I have so many things to put in with this. and hope they/you like how I'm taking the route so far. If anyone would like to be added to tag list let me know, and leave comments on thoughts of ideas or if there's just anything you like so far.🥰 Enjoy the reading.* CW!:SA,VIDEO OF SA, HARRASSMENT, MENTION OF SELF HARM *Oh My God, this is longer than I thought I would do, but by god. This is the set up and hopefully yall like it.*

From early on it was easy for Y/N to realize that she was into girls, secondary school when she was 11 being the biggest case in point when she had her first experience kissing a friend, ‘to see what’s it like’ of course. The giggling was endless, but when she wanted to keep going back for more and seeing that she wasn’t interested in wanting to see what it was like to kiss a boy, she talked to her mom and had a long talk and learned about lesbians, and that she was one from what she was gathering. Her mom was, to say at the very least, unsupportive, and angry, claiming having come from a family that is conservative she told Y/N never to kiss a girl again, never look at girls like that ever again. The fight that broke between them was horrible, and as much as she wanted to call her dad and tell him about what had happened, she was afraid that he would also be upset with her, and maybe disown her, telling her she was never welcome back home. She wished she hadn’t given her mom a chance this year to keep her, but the guilt of having chosen her father ate at her making her think it would do her and her mom some good to spend the year together. Now, she regrated it, regrated it even more when she came to her mom with questions of her feelings and thoughts.  

As time went by, she counted down the days till she could return home, she stayed on the phone most nights with her stepmom, trying to stay positive. Only, the worry started to set in when there was only 3 months left till it would be summer and she could return home. Her stepmom had informed them that she hadn’t heard from her husband, Y/N’s father, and that she was worried for him. With him gone, your mom would be able to keep you longer, due to the fact he was supposed to be picking you up and flying back to Barr.  

Then one day she had gotten a call from her stepmom, broken up with sobs, it was hard for Y/N to understand her, but she could just barely pick up that she had said something about her dad going MIA and visitors? She wasn’t sure, but she was panicked as she went to her mom crying, begging to go back and be with her grandparents and Sharon to wait to hear about her dad. She never understood what had happened between her parents to make them divorce and for her dad to move from America all the way back to Scottland, but whatever it was, she had no doubt her mother was to blame. When she refused, took Y/N’s phone and soon moved, she hated her. Hated her with a passion, tried endlessly to find her grandparents on any social media and Sharon too, but Sharon had kept her last name, and she had no clue what it was. She wished she had asked before, she cried most nights after they had first moved thinking the worst fate for her father, mourning his potential death. She never let her self-stay close to her mom, she shut her out and delved headfirst into her sexuality, dating a girl that she had learned, after they had moved, was gay. As much as her mom wanted to say something, she had to bite her tongue, only because she learned that her girlfriend was the daughter of her new boss.  

That’s certainly not to say that she didn’t making life at home a living hell for Y/N, chores, no phone, took all the money she somehow managed to make by doing yardwork for neighbors and even pet and baby-sitting. Y/N eventually broke up with her girlfriend, when she had realized she did like her at first, everything was now because she was dating her out of spite and loved her more as a friend than romantically. Even though she was angry, Katy understood and, at first, kept a little bit of a distance before becoming great friends. 

When she was 15 and her guy friend came over to work on a project, when she walked into her room after grabbing drinks and snacks, he was laid out on her bed, shirt ridding up showing off his abs. The flutter feeling in her stomach and blush had her freezing in her doorway as she stared at him. What in the hell is happening? Why am I feeling so... 

“Sweet, you brought soda.” When he sat up, you slowly walked in and handed him a can before going to your desk quickly sitting down and trying to hide your face. “So, you want to go through the article, and I’ll look for more websites to use as references?” 

“Sure.” Burying your nose into the papers you had printed earlier that day, you couldn’t stop looking at him, why did he seem so different? He’d been over plenty of times, times when you guys laid in bed watching movies or playing new games, had slept stacked on each other a few times even and you’d never felt anything before. So. Why now? What was different? Why were you feeling how you usually down when you would see an attractive girl that you were crushing on? “Oh god.” 

“What? Can’t find anything?” 

“Huh? Oh, no, nothing.” You chewed your lip, cursing to yourself when you felt him lean against your shoulder, he was reading the page, but you felt his breath against your neck, could ever so faintly hear him mumbling under his breath as he read, and it was making the hair on the back of your neck stand. When he finally went back to his spot on your bed you let out the breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Trying to refocus on the work at hand, you tuned him out and got a few pages of writing down before debriefing him on what you wrote and handing it to him so that way, he could add to it with whatever he had been able to find. 

While he was packing up his back you cleaned up the cans and wrappers before watching him, non to subtly. “What’s the matter? You’ve been staring at me on and off all evening?”  

You shook your head, although he was your friend, he wasn’t close enough that you would ever tell him that you were feeling things, things that you only feel for girls, since you were gay... or you thought all this time and had been. But now here he was out of the blue riling things up inside of you. “It’s nothing.” He was popular in your school, the same group of girls that had tormented you and bullied you since you had come out had the biggest crushes on him, and most importantly, Sam, the head bitch, had dated him for a while and hated that he hung out with you. If you told him, you started feeling... conflicting feeling towards him, things that you haven’t yet processed properly, he’d tell his friend, because he couldn’t keep anything to himself and then they would go around spreading things about you behind your back. 

“Yeah right, just tell me?” When you avoided looking at him, he sighed, “You heard then huh?” 

“What?” 

“That Sam and I are back together.” Looking at him surprised you scowled, “We talked out some issues, and figured why not try again.” 

“Didn’t she -” 

“We talked things out.” He cut you off standing up. 

“She sucked your cousins dick.” 

“Y/N” 

“He took a video and spread it all through the school.” 

“And we talked about that, it’s none of your business anyways.” He waited at beat before squinting at you slightly, “Do you have a thin fer me?” 

“WhAt?” You looked at him wide-eyed and mouth open, “Why would you ask me that? Ye know I-” 

“Sam said you have been looking at me differently lately and that we’ve been spending time together too-” 

“We’re working on a project together.” 

“I told her that... you're not denying that you’ve been looking at me differently.” 

Scowling you crossed your arms over your chest huffing, “Because that’s insane Jake. Ye know I’m lesbian, I’ve never been into guys. Ever.” When he opened his mouth to say something you quickly spoke up, “And even if in some other bizarre world, why would I start liking ye?” 

He glared at you at that, “What the hells that supposed to mean?” 

“Yer not special Jake, pretty fucking typical and boring, why would I have a thin fer ye?” You wanted to bite your tongue off, you’d never been to mean to anyone other than Sam and her little click, but you vouched that, that’s because they deserved it.  

“Fuck you Y/N.” He snatched up his back and walked out, you took a deep breath before collapsing onto your bed sighing. You weren’t sure who to talk to, but you wanted to talk to someone, so, pulling out your laptop you pulled up skype, you’d found a sweet guy that lived in Edinburgh, Scottland, when you were looking for your dad and had become good friends. Dominic, he was gay and your most trusted confidante when it came to anything you needed to talk to someone about. 

“Hey lass, what’s going on?” 

“I’m, surprised you answered, isn’t it like midnight for you?” 

“Yeah, but I can’t sleep, so again, what’s te matter?”  

You leaned back into your pillow and told him what had happened when you first walked back into your room and seeing Jack on your bed to what you had said making him leave. When he stayed quiet you wrapped your arms around your waist, “I’m confused on why I was feeling that way to him and then he wouldn’t shut up about Sam and what she had said about me.... There was so much going on in my head and he was overwhelming me with so much I just went off on him and said what I shouldn’t have.” Looking up at him you whispered, “What’s going on with me?” 

“Oh Christ lass,” he started laughing a bit before shaking his head, “Ye’ve gotta crush on him.” 

“What? But I-” 

“I know, but... from the sounds of it, ye like him. And There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“So, I’m... I’m bi? How? I’ve never liked any guys before? How am I 15 and just now liking a boy... JAKE no less?!” 

His laughter made you sigh, “Late developer. It happens.” You doubted that you were still confused on your feelings but decided you’d just slowly sort yourself out.  

So, for the next few months you broke down your feelings and realized that yup, you were into both guys and girls, and Jake was ignoring you still.... until. There was going to be a party at Sam’s, and your best friend Kieran had pulled you along, you lied to your mom that you were going to her house, and she lied that she was going to yours. When the bother of you walked into her house, Kieran pulled you into the kitchen handing you a cup, when you took a sip you choked huffing, making her laugh, “You never drink before?” 

“No, my god, have you?” 

“Few times, with family, mom would always have a cow though.” She took a swig from her cup before urging you too try and take another drink. After 2 cups, you were slowly feeling the effects before you seen Jack walking to you, Kieran already got the rundown of what had happened and that you had concluded that you were in fact bi now. She just wasn’t sure if you would be so comfortable around him yet. “Want me to distract?” She whispered tucking into your side. 

“No, it’s okay.” You said taking a deep breath before smiling when he stopped in front of the both of you. 

“Hey.” 

He was staring right at you, you felt the blush cover your face, you swallowed thickly, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you and crack, “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Kieran chirped, her smile spreading when he glanced at her for a moment before looking you over. You weren’t the thinnest, you had a little extra meat around your middle and your thighs certainly had no gap, but your confidence helped you feel comfortable wearing the short shorts, tank top and torn flannel that when seen from behind damn near made you look like you weren’t wearing any short at all.  

“Wanted to talk to you in private.” 

Your eyes widened as you looked to Kieran before looking back at him, “Alone? With me? Why?” 

Rolling his eyes he grabbed your wrist turning and pulling him with you, when you felt the cup being pulled from your hand you looked back at Kieran who was giving you thumbs up making a smoochy face before laughing. You looked at the back of Jack’s head anxious, Where are we going? Upstairs? Why? You didn’t pay attention to the people that were watching the two of you disappear up the stairs, your sole focus was Jack and them way he laced his fingers with yours. Despite yourself on a few occasions, he had been an invading guest in some of your fantasies and dreams, that to now feel him pulling you into... oh god, a bedroom, alone, the two of you. “Whas goin on?” 

After he had closed the door he guided you to the bed, making you sit down, he looked at you intensely, “I know you like me,” as you opened your mouth getting ready to say something, the hand he was holding, he pulled making you push forward and resting your other hand on his shoulder, “You’ve been staring at me a lot more since I left your place a couple weeks back, and don’t think I didn’t notice how you always blush when passing in the halls. Just say it Y/N.”  

Your cheeks were burning, he was so close, you could feel his breath fanning your face, opening your mouth, a small croak came from your throat making you close your mouth swallowing before going again, “Yer still wit-” 

“Say it.” 

The quiet of his voice made you throw caution to the wind, “Okay, fine... Jack... I like you.” Closing the distance, you kissed him, your breath halting in your throat, his lips aren’t as soft as the few girls your previously kissed, reaching up and cupping his jaw, it was firmer, sharper. A boy, not a girl, your mind reeled with the sensation of your nerves being consumed with Jack, Jack, Jack. Feeling his hands grab at the flannel you were wearing and start pushing at it to slide it down your shoulders. Easing back, you gathered yourself, “Wait.” 

“Come on.” Pulling the shirt off his hands started going for your tank. 

“Hey, Jack.” Before you could say anymore, he kissed you again slowly working the top up, your body froze at hearing something in the room bang, blood running cold when laughter sounded from the closet. 

“Shit, I can’t hold it in Jack, fucking look at her.” The laughter echoed in your ears as you quipped your head around and watched as 2 boys stumbled out of the closet laughing. 

“Never seen so many rolls, jeez, ever heard of self-restrain piggy?” 

“What are they doin here?” You looked to Jack shocked, tears threatening to build as he smirking then shook his head. 

“I was close guys; this doesn't count against me since you guys interrupted.” 

“Wha-” 

“She would’ve stopped you anyways, she was trying.” 

“Unless you were just going to ignore her protests?” 

“Shut up, just keep recording, this will be good.” 

“Wait, recordin? Why, stop Jack!” You cried as he yanked your tank top up before holding you, arms pinned behind your back.  

The other 2 pulled their phones up recording, flashes on, catching everything, as you thrashed trying to get loose their laughter rung loud in the room, “You thought he liked you? What a joke, maybe you would’ve let him fuck you.” 

“Would’ve been an easy bet for Jack to win. How annoying, I thought she was a lesbian?” 

“Faking that shit for attention probably, knew no guy would want to be with a piggy unless there was something interesting about her.” 

“But to think that even a girl would find this attractive? Yeah right.” 

The tears were unstoppable, their horrible remarks burning and cutting into you, finally getting loose enough in his grasp, you dove down to your top slipping on your flannel running out crying, the others following and laughing, snorting at you. 

“Y/N?!” You didn’t stop to wait for Kieran as you made a mad dash home, climbing up and into your room. Your phone started ringing, seeing Kieran, you ignored it, ashamed and embarrassed. 

Through the weekend, you stayed away from your phone, the constant dings and ringing going ignored till it finally died. On Monday, your mother none the wiser of what had happened forced you to school. Walking up to the front you tried to ignore the laughs and people pointing at you, when you walked into the main hall, everyone was staring at you, your skin breaking out with goose bumps. Head down, you got to your locker, when you opened it, pictures and notes flooded out, you looked at as much as you could before your vision blurred. They were still images of the video, notes and drawings of pigs and insults, the worst, comments to harm yourself. “Y/N.” Looking up at Kieran, the worry written all over her face, you watched as she picked up all the papers and yanked them out of your locker yelling at everyone that was now huddled around you, phones out and laughing. After she had all the papers, she pulled you into a bathroom before you broke down, holding onto her. “Come to my house, let’s just skip today.” 

Following her to her place, you sat with her in her room, telling her what had happened when you and Jack went upstairs. She held you tightly throughout the whole ordeal, curing Jack and his stupid friends. It was only a few hours before the both of you jumped at her door opening, her father stepping in looking at the both of you, “Why did you skip out of school? What’s going on here?” 

“Dad, listen, please just understand we have very valid reasons, just...” She looked at you hesitantly, “Can’t say right now.” 

“Can’t? Or won’t?” He looked over at you, “No child of mine skips school, what’s going on?” 

Before she came up with anything you started standing up grabbing your back, “I’m sorry sir, it was my fault, I pulled her out of the school and suggested we skip.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Why?” 

Making your way to the door you tried to squeeze past him, but his hand shot out blocking you, “No reason sir, please ju-” 

“We should just tell him, he will help yo-” 

“Don’t Kieran.” 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing!” Pushing his hand down, you bolted out and started making your way home. Going to your room you charged your phone and saw every notification start to pop up, messages from anyone and everyone from school laughing at the video and calling you. Silencing it you laid in your bed crying, shortly, your mom came home screaming at you as she climbed the stairs. 

“What in the hell did you fucking do?!” As she slammed your door open, the hatred in her eyes burned into you, “My boss just called me and told me you whored yourself at some fucking party? What fucking party did you go to?!” 

“What? How-” Keiran told him, you snapped your mouth shut, you couldn’t believe she told him. You knew she was trying to look out for you, but damnit if you weren’t made at her for saying anything. 

“Answer me! Don’t you dare play dumb; there’s video evidence of you screwing someone? Have you lost your damn mind?! Everything I fucking do, and this is how you repay me?!” You glared at her as she went on; How is this my fault? Why is she insisting it’s my fault? 

“I didn’t do ANYTHING on purpose! They forced me and recorded me!” She glared at you before turning on her heel leaving slamming the door behind herself. You sighed walking to the door locking it before grabbing your phone and computer, pulling skype up you called Dominic. While the ringing was going you opened your bank app, checking what you had before opening a new tab on your computer for flights. 

“Y/N, wha-” 

“Ye remember a while ago when ye suggested I move out that way to just run away?” 

“Yeah?” He looked at you skeptically, “Are ye-” 

“I’m buying a ticket as we speak, I will be there in two days.” 

“Woah, lass, whas go-” 

“Please, Dom, jus... tell me now if I can’t stay with ye till I find my dad so I can figure something else out for hiding.” 

“Of course, ye can stay with me, but lass, what the hell happened?” 

Booking the flight ticket you took a deep breath, trying to hold the tears back, being tired of crying you didn’t want to shed anymore. You told him everything that had happened over the weekend, the party, letting your phone die and having a mental break down to the crap that happened at school, your friend telling her dad who is your mom's boss. Finally, the yelling match with your mom that just transpired. When you finished, he slammed back into his chair huffing, “Jesus Christ lass... what te fuckin hell? Firs off, yer more tan welcome here, ma and pa have been wantin to meet ya bad and when they hear bo-” 

“No, please Dom. Please don’t say anything bou-” 

“Lass, listen, I’m real fuckin sorry bout was happen to ye, but we gotta tell them somethin. They are goin to won-” 

“Tell them, I’m coming to find my dad, which won be a lie, ye jus don need to tell them the other shit. Please Dom? PlEaSe? I’m beggin ye.” 

He was quiet a moment, but he relented, “Fine, but they ask more questions, we tell them lass.” 

“Fine.” 

The two of you hashed out the rest of your plan, you’d stay low at home, steering clear of your mom for the next day before calling a cab to take you to the airport the following day, ignoring her and creating distance was a piece of cake, she was still irate with you and constantly trying to think up of lies to tell her boss about your ‘mistake’. 

When the time came, right as soon as your mom was out the door, you grabbed your 2 bags and made a mad dash to the cab that waited out front, sliding in, you felt like everything was moving on X2 speed, the drive to the airport, getting through tsa, and waiting to board. Your heart pounded in your chest; you were finally leaving your mom, and going to look for your dad, you remembered faintly the areas he would take you and replayed every detail hoping that when you get there if you can’t find him, then at least his wife. When your phone started ringing, you slowly looked at it before staring, Kieran, she had no clue what you were doing. You had ignored her calls and texts yesterday and the previous night, you knew she would and is still worried about you. You wanted to tell her what you were doing but didn’t know any more if you could trust her not to tell her dad and then eventually report you running away. Damnit though if the guilt of her worry and self-blame didn’t eat at your conscience, sliding the answer across your screen you lifted the phone to your ear. 

“Oh my god! Y/N! I’ve been trying to reach you! Listen, please, I’m so sorry for telling my dad, but he needed to know! Please understand I only told him because he would help. He said he talked to your mom, but she called the cops to file a report.” The momentary silence lasted long enough for you to sigh, “H-how was it making the report? Did they say what they would do?” When you didn’t respond, you heard her sniffle, “Please, Y/N, I’m so-” 

“Don worry bout me anymore Kieran. I’ll be okay.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Jus don worry, I’m not mad at ye, well...not anymore.” 

“Y/N, where are you? You turned your location off.” 

You looked up at the boarding sign, “I’m goin home, I’ll see ye later okay?” 

“Oh, okay...Love you.” 

Swallowing, you grabbed your bags walking to the podium, “Bye Kieran.” You hung up quickly before turning your phone off and wrapping it in napkins and tossing it in a can passing by. 

Landing in Edinburgh Airport you hailed a cab and gave them Dominic’s address, you’d sent him money to buy you a new phone, so he knew the time window of when to expect you. Pulling up to a beautiful house I handed the driver some cash and started making your way to the front door. When it opened you smiled, Dom, in person quickly ran to you hugging and picking you up, “Jeez Dom, don’t break yer back.” You laughed, but when he set you down, a hard look on his face made you shut up. 

“Don be sayin no mean shit bout my best frien. I ain fraid to smack some sense into ye.” 

“An I an fraid to smack some sense into ye if you lay one hand on her.” You both turned to see his mom at the doorway with his father. 

A sheepish smile made its way onto his face, “I was only messin ma, promise.” 

“Hmhm” She hummed smiling walking down the path before smiling at you and wrapping her arms around you. “It’s so nice to finally meet ye hun.” 

“Oh, uh, thank ye fer lettin me stay here till I find my dad and mom.” You smiled back looking between her and her husband. 

“Come in dear.” He said grabbing your bags smiling, you all walked in, they lead you to the main room and sat you on the couch. While his mom got drinks for everyone you looked around, “When Dom said ye were comin to look fer ye father, I asked a few questions around town to see if anyone knew anything.” 

You looked at him shocked, “Oh, ye didn’t have to do tha, I don want to bother ye all while I stay here.” 

He shook his head, “I don mind one bit, I only wish I had some good news fer ye, with the lil I knew and Dom, not many people could really offer anything.” 

“I understand, there were a few places I remember visiting and going to many times when I was younger, I was goin to visit those places and ask around, if not fer them then at least my grandparents.” 

“Tomorrow, we’ll be more than happy to drive ye around and help.” 

And they did, it was a couple weeks of traveling and asking friends, and old connections till you found a small scrap of information. It was a long, short given to you by one of Dom’s dad’s old cop friends, but you didn’t want to leave no stone unturned. Going just outside of Edinburgh, you went to the address that was scribbled down, it was a long dirt driveway to a beautiful 2 story house, huge with hills and fields surrounding it. On one side there were highland and belted Galloway cows, the other side of the road was cheviot sheep, your heart was pounding a mile a minute in your ribs, your limbs felt heavy as you climbed out of the car, looking around. Everything felt so... 

“Can we help ye all?” That voice, your body felt like the earth was shaking, could feel every muscle trembling as you slowly turned around and ... It was like everything froze in time, tears weld in your eyes, even though it had only been 4 years, it was like you’d only just seen him yesterday. 

“Dad.” You whimpered; you covered your mouth. 

Looking you over, he swore he thought he was looking at a ghost, “Y/N?” Nodding your head, he took one step down the stairs before the both of you made a mad sprint for each other. The collision of you both slamming into each other, wrapping your arms around one another tightly, weeping into the others shoulder. He pulled back first, cupping your cheeks in his hands moving the hair from your face, “My god, Y/N. Yev grown so much.” You both laughed before going back into holding each other, it wasn’t until his wife came out asking what was going on till she saw you.  

“Oh my god, MA, PA!” She screamed before running to you laughing and hugging you.  

You looked to the door, your grandparents walked out confused, and slightly worried, but upon seeing you, God, they all had never felt so whole and complete, they all cocooned you into a bear hug. Only pulled apart to thank and welcome Dominic and his parents inviting them in.  

You never told anyone the truth of why you ran away and sought them out, you didn’t even have to worry about your mom making a report, when you had left she counted it as a silent blessing that she could move and start over fresh, she never thought you went back to your father, all that matter to her was that you were gone. Your dad and mom asked as often as they could to figure out the truth, but you only insisted that you missed them and decided enough was enough, you were going to find them no matter what. You’d told them and your grandparents that you were lesbian, not expressing that you were bi, they excepted you none the less, and you were sure they would still except you even if you told them, you were bi, but you weren’t going to be dating or seeing any guys for a very long time. Yes, you knew and understood not all men were the same, but that doesn’t change the fact that at the thought of being intimate with a guy had you breaking down and having an anxiety attack.  

It wasn’t for a long time till you found inner peace with yourself and what had happened to you those years ago, you just always kept to one rule when it came to guys. You were never going to get anywhere near intimate with one unless you guys were a serious thing; no one nightstands, no games, no bets, no lies. 

[raspberryjellybrains]

image I.D. below the cut

image description start:

[a promotional picture of Sam and Dean Winchester, Sam on the left and Dean on the right, their images from circa 2010. They both stare challengingly into the camera with their arms crossed, though Dean also holds a large blade. The background is a two lane blacktop with an older style of power line and corn on either side. At the top and bottom are flames. Sam says "im restricting", Dean says "and im bingeing" and the flaming text gif at the bottom reads "the eating disorder brothers.]

image description end.

[jackass-jones]

God every day I think about Akane’s breakdown in door 3 because there really is no correct way to interpret that and every possibility makes me crazy. Like she sees this fucked up corpse whom Junpei (and the player, depending on how they play) believes is their friend Snake, but she knows that it’s Guy X. It’s a man she very intentionally put in the game for this very purpose, so that he could die horrifically and be displayed for everyone to see. And she has a full mental breakdown over being trapped in this room with the corpse, being trapped by Junpei, to the point where she rips out her hair and starts bleeding from how much she bangs on the door screaming to get out. And fuck, there’s so many possibilities like

Akane could be feeling genuine terror over the sight of the body, and with that remorse. She made this happen, she wanted this to happen, and now she’s forced to quite literally watch the damage she’s caused unfold. She can detach herself from his murder easily in other timelines where she doesn’t have to look at it, and she can sleep easy knowing that her hands are technically clean because she didn’t do the literal killing. But she can’t do that here, and she has to face the fact that not only did she happily cause this death, she failed her mission. She isn’t going to survive, and now this man is dead for nothing and everything is her fault

On the other hand, her entire breakdown could be completely fabricated in order to keep playing the role of the damsel in distress who is so innocent that the very sight of blood drives her to insanity. The interesting part about this is that if she could fake such a horrific breakdown, just how much of her personality a facade? We know she wants revenge, for everyone from Cradle to feel even an ounce of the pain she and so many others went through, but we don’t get to see the extent of how much she feels this way. We never hear directly from Akane about her feelings on any of the original organizers, just her note about her desire to punish them. She hates them, but does she see their deaths as a necessary evil, or does she feel joy and satisfaction at watching them go? It’s absolutely horrifying not knowing, not being able to see her true feelings, not knowing just how real or fake she is, the extent of her madness. Perhaps she doesn’t even know that herself

IN OTHER WORDS, it’s fucked

[thebigqueer]

unrelated to that rb but im thinking about it and i dont think piper liking jason was ever a forced heteronormativity thing i think she genuinely liked him

[leapinarmadillo]

ohhhh. i forgot that people used to say michael was getting surgeries in order to look like diana ross. ugh. i don't think there's anything to that but............ugh.

[bunnyboy-juice]

oughghgh

[fardf150]

fuck

[silverselfshippingchaos]

one day I'll be able to tell what I feel towards certain characters LMAAAOOO

[automatic-midnight]

My biased, really unpopular take is that I think rit/su/maya is an objectively boring ship.