#i will say though i used to be a lot worse! ive made a lot of progress toward being more calm and sane

[0809sysblings]

I think us Milgrammies with very stigmatized disorders should be given extra daily voting opportunities as compensation for having to deal with the awful takes by many of the fans when discussing the cases and characters

[gu6chan]

just reached my favourite point of translation where the subtext is so deep i have no idea how the FUCK to even start with getting the intended joke across/s

[adhd-fandom-and-gay]

doomed yaoi at its finest

HEART, MIND, and SOUL from CHONNY'S CHARMING CHAOS COMPENDIUM, VOL. 1

Justification:

"There's already a lot of talk with them wanting to entwine, anyways. I just think that maybe they would've solved their issues faster if they kissed about it instead of trying to kill each other about it. I think it would do them absolute wonders & I think they would be happier for it. Also, "Polytrident" is an absolute BANGER of a ship name." - @felix-lupin

[heartpascal]

something is rotten

▹ — joel miller x niece!reader

▹ — summary: part two of to an empty house — arriving in jackson brings painful feelings, and even worse conversations.

▹ — a/n: UGH!! guys im not all that happy with this one!! ive changed it a couple times too D: but i have left yall hanging long enough!! lemme know if you want anymore about these guys :’) && ty guys sm for all the support ILY!!

▹ — warnings: slight spoilers for episode 6 ‘kin’, swearing, ANGST!!!, a bit of comfort, father figure joel, reader has daddy issues, and abandonment issues, and is generally not struggling in life PLS

▹ — tags: @canpillowscry @randomstory56 @angsty-twihardxx @frogtits1 @exiledangel @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @vee-vee-writes @rhyanna6012 @snixx2088 @mona-aiko @mymommmy (those of you tagged in italics asked for part 2 in the comments of the first part! drop me a message if you want your tag removed!!)

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Life in the apocalypse had been non-stop since you had left that hydroelectric power plant, left behind Tommy, and for a while, all thoughts of him. There hadn’t been time to worry about that sort of thing, between almost losing Joel, and then almost losing Ellie, and then finally reaching the hospital that had been your end goal.

In some ways, you were glad. It kept your mind racing, the feeling of constantly being on edge allowing your brain to stay away from silly things, such as your father.

But now, with that whole chapter finally being over, Joel and Ellie were ready to settle down, to live in a home, rather than travelling miles upon miles, never feeling safe. The three of you had been through a lot, and since the… incident with Ellie, her joke book had remained closed.

You knew that Joel had noticed the change in her, just the same as you had. What she had thought to be her purpose, the justification for everybody who had been lost on your journey, their sacrifice, had been for nothing. It was tearing her apart, and it hurt you to watch it happen.

There was no question about your next destination, though you tried to ignore the reality of it for as long as you possibly could, you were fully aware that Jackson was what Ellie needed. Hell, you’d even go as far as to say it was what Joel needed, too. But deep down, you knew that going there was going to tear you to pieces, despite the way you liked to put on a strong front, following in Joel’s footsteps even in that sense.

You didn’t share your concerns, content to continue the journey in silence, pretending not to notice the way Joel and Ellie looked at you the closer you got to the town.

“Hey, you okay?” Ellie murmured to you, the final stop of your journey feeling like something similar to that of impending doom. She nudged your arm with her elbow, smiling in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes like it used to.

“Mighty fine.” You responded, her dim smile reflected in your own, and you let it fall the moment she nodded at you, despite clearly being unconvinced by your words.

You fell into step beside her and Joel, and felt his hand grasp on to your shoulder as you caught glimpse of Jackson in the not far enough distance. He squeezed your shoulder the slightest bit, and gave you the biggest reassuring smile he could muster, though it didn’t soothe your worries like it used to.

Maybe it was everything the three of you had been through over your journey, or maybe it was the impending arrival at Jackson, but you were starting to notice the world had become much dimmer than you remembered it to be. Joel’s grip less reassuring, Ellie’s smile less genuine, that faint hope in your gut long gone. With a frown, the thought came to you that this was what it meant to grow up.

The lines on Ellie’s face said the same thing, the sigh that had left her chest, made up of pure exhaustion, just told you that her naive nature had vanished. Jokes no longer received the same laughter, and the world no longer held beauty. Growing up felt like hopelessness settling, nuzzling its way in and making itself at home in that space around your heart. The grip it had made it feel like perhaps, it wouldn’t be all too bad if that heartbeat slowed, but you pushed that thought aside for another time.

For now, you’d have to focus on the problem at hand; arriving in Jackson.

It was warmer now than it had been when you’d left the power plant, and it showed in the way that the green lands had brightened, the sun settling and warming the back of your neck. The heat meant less layers, and the three of you had removed your jackets long before arriving in the town.

The lookouts had spotted you all before you’d been anywhere near the gate, so it was no surprise that Tommy was there to greet the three of you when the gates were finally pulled open, allowing you a peek into the home he valued so much.

Walking in, you had already begun your self-appointed mission of ignoring every word Tommy Miller said, but felt yourself almost blown away by the sights around you. For a moment, just a split second, it was nice.

That thought went out the window a second later, catching a glimpse of your so-called father, and you couldn’t help but recall the way you’d sat for endless nights, waiting for that very man, and imagined yourself living a life with him in a town just like this one.

You felt sick.

That little kid deserved better, you decided. You were worthy of living this kind of life, of getting to sleep in a warm house, of not having to worry about if Joel and Tess would get enough ration cards to feed the three of you, of getting horse riding lessons! The facts of the situation stared you in the face, getting clearer the longer you looked around. Your own father denied you of this life.

With building anger, the feeling white-hot, burning, you turned to Joel where he was speaking with his brother. “Where are we staying?”

Tommy looked between you and Joel, swallowing when Joel just raised a brow at him, and spoke, “Uh, little place just a couple blocks over. 38, I think. Rancher Street, I’ll take you guys over—”

“I’ll make my own way.” You snapped, before he could even finish his sentence. If you had to look at him for even a second longer, you were sure that the overflowing anger and resentment would explode, and you weren’t convinced anyone would be able to pick up the pieces that would be left behind.

You stormed down the street before he could say another word to you, turning down the first alley you saw and standing still in the street on the other side, letting out a harsh breath.

You couldn’t be sure how long you’d stood there for, trying to turn down the simmering emotions inside of you, but it was clearly long enough for somebody to notice. “You good there?” A young girl asked, and you turned to her, brows furrowed.

“‘M fine.” You responded gruffly, and even you could hear the way your speech reflected Joel’s own. The thought calmed you, almost, reminding you of who your real dad was.

She stepped closer, clearly not taking a hint, “You sure? New in town? You look lost.”

“Yes, yes, and I’m not lost.” You said to her, though you didn’t exactly know where you were. She just raised her eyebrows at you, and you huffed, “Lookin’ for a Rancher Street.”

The girl nodded, something between a smirk and a smile on her face, and pointed forward, “First left twice, then a right. Should get you there just fine.”

“Thanks.” You said, immediately heading off in the direction she’d guided you in. You kept your head down, brows furrowed, and tried to keep your attention away from the world around you. It was clear that it’d just make you more angry.

You counted along with the house numbers as you passed by, Rancher Street wasn’t that densely populated, if the look of the houses were anything to go by. There was quite a few that looked run down, number 38 included, once you arrived. You went inside, the door already unlocked, and sneezed when you inhaled all the dust that clouded the air. This place must’ve been barely touched throughout the last twenty years.

Grabbing a book left on the coffee table, you pulled it open, and sat on the edge of an old sofa, sighed through your nose when even more dust floated up from it.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“You’ll go, because it’s the polite thing to do.” Joel told you firmly, sighing heavily as he looked over at you with his arms crossed.

“You think I give a shit about being polite?” You asked him, mirroring his stance by crossing your own arms. He rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he clearly brainstormed a way to get around your stubbornness.

“Just this one time,” He told you, saying your name pleadingly, “Then you’ll never have to go ‘round there again.”

That peaked your interest, and you uncrossed your arms, “Really? You promise?”

“Swear.” Joel replied, and sighed something near to relief, finally calling Ellie’s name. The stairs creaked, and she appeared less than a second later.

“You coming?” She asked, thought she had obviously been sat on the stairs, listening to yours and Joel’s… conversation, the whole time.

“Yeah,” You sighed unhappily, “I’m coming.”

The three of you made your way across town, with Joel checking a scrap piece of paper that you could only assume held directions. Lights had flickered on by now, the darkness of the evening being offset by the yellow lamps that poured light over the street. It was weird, you thought, being able to see so clearly in the darkness.

Joel knocked at the wooden door when you arrived, looking back at you where you stood, just off the porch with Ellie, like he thought you might run away if he didn’t keep his eyes on you.

Though the thought had occurred to you, you wouldn’t do it, not if it meant that Joel’s promise would be vacant. Just this once, he had sworn.

The front door opened as Ellie knocked your arm with her elbow, giving you a slight reassuring smile. You appreciated the effort, but the reassurance fell flat. There was something about this situation that you just couldn’t put into words, but it hurt. Her arm wrapped through your own as Joel followed Tommy inside, and she led you in after them, closing the door behind you.

Immediately, you were tense. Your heart felt as if it was beating in your throat, like it was going to stop if you took another step. You tried not to look around, keeping your eyes on your battered old shoes as you let Ellie continue leading you through the house.

Her abrupt stop had you stumbling into her, and lifting your head with furrowed brows. You glanced to where she was looking, seeing the names Kevin and Sarah written in a scrawl on a chalkboard in what you guessed would be a living room. You frowned, and gripped Ellie’s arm tighter, breaking her from her stare at the board.

You pretended not to notice the homely feel to the house, the warmth of it making your palms sweat. If you allowed your mind to wonder too far, you’d be reminded of how you had dreamed of living a life like this as a kid, dreamed of a house just like this one, shared with your father. You would be reminded of how he chose to have this, chose to have it without you.

Good job you keep your mind on a tight leash, you supposed, gritting your teeth and blinking away the angry tears that wanted to rise and fall from your eyes.

You breathed in deeply through your nose, looking up as Ellie began to loosen her grip on your arm, having arrived at the dining room. The concept had always been strange to you, having lived in a shitty apartment for basically all your life, and having a whole room just for eating seemed like a waste of valuable space.

Ellie took a seat, and you quickly followed in her example as Joel stood talking to Tommy by the doorway, engaged in conversation like they were as close as they had been two decades ago.

“You got this.” Ellie said, her hand on squeezing your arm as she looked towards where you were wringing your fingers together, your stomach feeling as though you’d left it back by the porch. You nodded at her, swallowing and smiling tightly.

You stayed quiet as Tommy finished setting the table, before he was moving back and forth between the dining room and kitchen, bringing various plates and a few sauces with each trip. Finally, he sat down at the head of the table beside Ellie, and you kept your gaze away from him.

“Sorry I couldn’t be there to greet you guys when you got in,” Maria called, finally approaching from the kitchen, and you were keeping your gaze on your hands until Ellie frantically began tapping your, her expression saying something you’d couldn’t quite understand, something close to pity in her eyes. “Kinda hard to get around so quick, these days.” Maria laughed, placed a big plate down on the table before standing back up, her hands on her back and—

If you had eaten any food, you were sure you would’ve thrown it all back up.

There, standing in front of you, was your father’s wife — pregnant.

It felt like a million different feelings were running through your head, faster than you could catch up, all your thoughts were racing, clashing together and leaving only one that was literate: What the fuck?

Maria sat down beside Joel, at Tommy’s side, and you could see in Joel’s eyes that he hadn’t expected this, could see the pity building in his eyes just as you’d seen in Ellie’s, and it was all far too much.

“I can’t do this.” You announced, slamming your hands on the table and feeling some satisfaction in the way the cutlery clattered together. You pushed your chair back, standing up, and saw your father open his mouth to speak.

He said your name, and you snapped.

“Don’t talk to me! What the fuck is wrong with you?” You cried out, staring daggers at the man who was supposed to be your dad. The angry tears that you had managed to push away earlier came rushing back, one already falling down your cheek. You wiped it away angrily.

“Kid, just listen—”

You seethed, “Kid? Do I look like a fucking kid to you? You missed out on that, Tommy. You have no idea—” Your voice broke for a moment, as you thought of all the things that had happened to you since your father had been around. “I don’t have to listen to you. You’re not my dad, remember? You left your daughter, years ago. You have no idea what we’ve been through.”

Ellie was stood beside you, her hand on your shoulder, though when she had got there, you had no idea. The edges of your vision were red, and you could feel the way your throat was tightening.

“I’m sorry,” He started, your name leaving his lips once again, and Ellie held firmly against you as you leant towards him, your blood warming in your veins as your heartbeat echoed in your ears.

“I don’t think sorry cuts it.” You laughed, humourlessly. “I don’t think anything does, actually. I will never forgive you. You hear me? You listening? Never.”

You turned away, Ellie’s hand falling away, and you even avoided Joel as he stood up and tried to reach out for you. You couldn’t face them, not like this, not when it felt like your father had taken a chisel to your heart, and left you with only splintered ribs. You were choking on the emptiness of it, the reality of your life and what it meant to the man who had helped create it.

You were more certain now than ever that he had never cared for you, that he had left because of you, not just despite you.

It was horrible, and it was something you had always suspected. A part of you wished that he had died alongside the Fireflies, because at least then he wouldn’t have had a choice in staying away, right? But no, he was alive and well, thriving in the home he’d made without you, while you worried back at the QZ that barely provided you with enough food to get by.

You were storming away, and had reached the house you'd been allocated before you even really noticed that you had left. The blood in your veins had reached a boil by now, and you could feel the steaming in your lungs, in the way it suffocated you and made every breath burn against your throat.

The backpack in your hands was still filled with everything you owned, seeing as you hadn’t bothered to unpack into somebody else’s bedroom, though it had been theirs a lifetime ago. It didn’t help the deepening rage within you, the despair that was tilting your entire world on its axis. Everything in your life was in this bag, probably weighing less than the plate of food Maria had brought out.

Meanwhile, your father had a whole house full of shit that belonged to him. You scoffed, feeling that burning sensation crawling up your chest, so close to hatred, but something far more raw, more painful.

Your feet took you back out to Rancher Street, legs moving before your mind was fully caught up. You met the rest of the Miller’s halfway through your trek, with them on their way to Joel’s new house, whilst you were trying to make your way to the gate, prepared to leave, rather than get left behind.

Joel called your name, his expression displaying the panic that was crushing his chest. He had been a builder, before. He had fixed things — it was what he did, what he liked to do. But this was something he didn’t know how to fix, something that may have just been broken beyond repair… he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“Joel, don’t,” You told him, voice trembling as you spoke, stopping in front of the man who had looked after you for your whole life. “Please don’t. Nothin’ that anyone says could make me not hate him. Not even you.”

Joel swallowed, glancing back to his brother behind him, where he stood with his wife, before glancing to Ellie at his own side.

“I—I didn’t mean for this,” Tommy said, arms up by his head as if he was surrendering, but you knew he was just trying to make himself feel better. “I swear!”

“I don’t care,” You cried, feeling your frustration build that none of these people had the ability to understand you, to understand how it felt for your own father to look at you and leave you behind. They couldn’t get how crushing this was, that he was starting over. “Go ahead, start over with your wife. First time ‘round didn’t work, but second time, surely!”

He flinched at your words, as if they had hurt him, but your expression hardened. He had no idea what true hurt was — how could he?

“I know I wasn’t the greatest dad—”

“You have never been my dad. Joel is my dad. He’s looked after me my whole life while you were out lookin’ for something, who knows what, because I don’t believe you ever found it.” You spat at him, feeling Ellie approach your side, hold on to your wrist as your hands clenched into fists.

Joel’s face fell, the reality of your feelings towards your father were crushing, but he could see why you’d feel that way. He’d agree with you, too, if anybody deserved the title of your dad, it’d be himself, not his brother. He remembered a few times when you’d used the name for him, though you had been sick or exhausted down to your very bones both times, and he had figured that in your muddled mind, you’d gotten him confused with Tommy. That was the reason he had never corrected it, not wanting to squash whatever little amount of hope and love you had for his brother. He’d had no idea that the truth was that you saw him, not his brother, and your mind had made that connection.

He felt like he could cry when you turned to him, that glassy look in your eyes, and he saw the pieces of you that his own brother had broken. “I want to leave.” You told him, lip trembling as you said the words.

Joel didn’t know what to reply with — the two of you had nowhere to go, and Ellie didn’t, either. This place was your best option, your only option, really. He shook his head, mouth slightly agape as he tried to think of something to say, something that could convince you.

Ellie said your name, and you drew your gaze to her, where she looked guilty, far guiltier than you had ever seen her. “I want to stay.” She told you, her eyes darting away from you as if she was confessing some awful sin to you.

“I know,” You said, letting her hand slip from your wrist to your own hand, and squeeze tightly. “But I…”

Your gaze moved to Tommy and Maria, and your expression hardened, features turning to stone when you looked at the two of them. “I’ll stay. For now. And I’m still a Miller, but— but if anybody asks, I’m Joel’s daughter.”

Joel nodded, smiling thinly at you, tears welled up in his own eyes, and you nodded back to him.

“O—Okay.” Tommy said, swallowing, but you shushed him before he could continue.

“As for you, I don’t wanna see you. Let’s keep it the way you decided we should be.“ Your voice trembled, but you remained firm on your words. “I don’t wanna see your face, or hear your voice. I don’t want to know you. Joel can do what he likes, but you stay far away from me, you got it? The only kid you have is that one.” You finished, gesturing toward where Maria held a hand over her stomach.

Tommy looked as if he was going to disagree, but people had begun peeking through the windows of the houses on either side of the street, and when Joel stepped beside you, arm immediately going around your shoulders, he knew he had no choice.

“Hope you’re a better father to that kid than you were to me.” You hissed at him, seeing the way his face crumpled and finding satisfaction in it.

The small part of you, the darkest part, hoped every one of your words hurt him. Hoped that he lived the rest of his life knowing that he fucked up, that he ruined you, and that when you built yourself back up, he’d never get the chance to know you.

Joel took the backpack from your shoulder, pulling it over his own, and turned you away from the father you had disowned. The three of you walked away, not looking back to see the way Maria had to herd him away as he stared at you, something close to grief in his eyes.

When you arrived back at 38 Rancher Street, Ellie held your hand tightly while Joel opened the front door, dropping your backpack by the stairs as he moved towards the dust filled living room. The two of you followed him, and he turned around to see you squeezing Ellie’s hand, your lips trembling and your face crumpled as you looked up at him.

“Did I make a mistake? Did I ruin everything?” You asked him, trying so hard to keep yourself together, to tape all the little pieces of yourself into something that resembled okay, but it wasn't working.

“God, no, kid.” Joel said, and he was in front of you and Ellie before you could get another word in, pulling the two of you into his arms and breathing out a tired exhale. “I’m proud of you, proud of you both.” He told you, and your whole facade collapsed beneath you, leaving you sobbing into his arms, wondering where everything had gone wrong, wondering what that little kid would’ve said if she had heard your words tonight.

“We’re gonna be alright.” Joel told the two of you, feeling Ellie squeeze her arms tighter around him, until she let go, pointing upwards to let him know where she was heading. He nodded at her, an understanding expression on his face, and tightened both his arms around you.

“You swear?” You checked, unable to help yourself, and let yourself breathe a shaky sigh into his neck when he responded.

“Swear.”

[olivexii]

⁀➷ ┄─ ˑ IV . ☆ ──ㅤ Knee Socks

Joseph Descamps x reader

Chapter 4

Masterlist

Warnings: Smoking

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

“What’s going on between you and Descamps?” Simone asked me as we walked to school. The weather was worse than the last couple of weeks, clouds looming over and turning everything gray.

“What do you mean?”

“Some people saw you walking with him after school yesterday.”

“Oh right. I didn’t have an umbrella, so he let me use his. There’s nothing going on.” I reassured her.

“Good. Stay away from him, he’s bad news.” Michèle warned as we neared the school, pupils now flooding around us.

I didn’t respond to them, only focusing on not walking into someone. Simone was looking off towards Jean-Pierre, I guessed she was happy that he only got off with a warning, but there was something else in that look.

“Why are you looking at Jean-Pierre like that?” I whispered so Simone so Michèle wouldn’t hear.

“W-what?”

“You’re looking at him funny.”

“I’m not.” She stuttered out, a mix of happiness and concern on her face as she looked between me and the older boy.

“Do you like him?”

“Do I like him? I’ve barely spoke to him why would I like him!” She whispered.

“You compared him to Alain Delon the other day.”

“Yeah but… Just don’t tell anyone, please.” She turned to look at me, holding her pinky out.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” I replied connecting our fingers.

“Thank you Y/N.” She smiled.

As we walked past Jean-Pierre and his friends, Simone kept turning around and smiling at him, Michèle completely oblivious.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The previous week we had been doing multiple, beginning of term tests. Revision for it took up most of my time, meaning I hadn’t been able to go out a lot, only rarely for errands.

“Laubrac, some progress. That’s 4.” The teacher said as he handed the marked tests back. Most of the class laughed at this, while some remained silent.

I averaged in most classes, earning between 12-15, which I was proud of considering I didn’t really pay attention in some of the classes.

Annick usually scored higher than everyone, as well as Felbec. They both always came top of the class. Descamps however, didn’t do as well, scoring around 7 or 8 on every test.

The teachers forgave him though, considering he had lost an eye and experienced trauma. The bandage was soon replaced with a brown eye patch, which suited him more.

The next class I zoned out in, watching as the rain dropped down the window and made a soft patting sound.

“You are all going to prepare a presentation, but in pairs.”

My head snapped towards the teacher at this. Presenting in front of a class, especially with boys in the room, is horrible.

“I’m going to be picking these pairs, because if you were to work with your friend, you will get nothing done.” The teacher says as he looks towards Descamps and Dupin, who just laughed in response.

“Every pair of students will then present their work to the class.” I internally groaned at this, anxiety already building up inside of me. The teacher then began listing names off of the register.

“Sabiani and Pichon?” This pair made the class laugh, especially the boys in the back corner of the room, knowing they were going to bully Pichon because of it.

“Hey look, Pichon’s blushing. He’s turned pink like a pig!”

“That’s enough, Dupin.” The teacher called, sounding fed up of them.

“Do we have to work together in pairs, sir?” Annick raised her hand, Pichon looking at her in sadness.

“That’s the whole point of this exercise, and most importantly, your pair’s average, will be your grade.”

He then continued to rattle off some more names. Michèle was partnered with a random boy, and Simone was partnered with Applebaum.

“L/N and Descamps?”

I internally groaned again at this, picking at my fingernails before slowly looking back at Descamps. He had a small smirk plastered on his face, looking at Dupin before turning to look at me.

I wasn’t happy to be working with Descamps, knowing I would probably be the only one getting work done. But I wasn’t disappointed either, this way I get to know him a bit more.

“How does that sound?” The teacher asked happily once he had partnered everyone up.

Nobody replied, some looking at their partner and smiling while others just faces the front, not amused.

The bell rang, and everyone scrambled to grab their things.

“I feel sorry for you Y/N, having to work with Descamps. Surely you can ask to change?” Simone said as we walked down the school stairs, heading for break.

“I’m sure it will be fine. He won’t do any work anyway, so I can do the presentation on whatever I want.” I smiled back.

“Yeah, I guess that’s an advantage.” Michèle shrugged as we went to sit down on the benches outside.

“Me and Simone are going to ask if we can work together. We don’t really feel comfortable working with a boy after what happened a couple of weeks ago.” Michèle said, fiddling with her hands on her lap.

“I don’t blame you, I don’t feel comfortable either but, it’s either Descamps or a random boy I don’t know.” I shrugged and they agreed with me.

Michèle starts talking, while Simone smiles, looking into the distance. I look in the direction she is, and Jean-Pierre is walking towards us, a book in his hand.

“Here, this is yours.” He says to Michèle, holding it out to her, “I put it in my bag by mistake.”

“Thanks.” The girl smiles.

“Bye then.” He walks away abruptly, Simone’s smile fading when he didn’t even glance at her.

“English isn’t the problem for me, it’s maths.” Michelè begins to rant, “I got three out of twenty on the last test.”

“Three out of twenty isn’t so bad.” Simone sighs, still looking at Jean-pierre. I nudge her slightly with my elbow, smiling.

“L/N. Can we talk?” A voice comes from behind. All three of us turn around at the same time. Descamps is stood there, not looking at the other two, just me.

“Uhm sure.” I say wearily, looking at the other two girls, who are just glaring the boy down. He starts to walk away, and I stand up to follow him, leaving my bag with the two girls.

Once we made it a fair distance from Simone and Michèle he turns to me, leaning his back against the wall that we walked towards.

“We’ll have to go to your place, for the project.” He says, not looking at me, just pulling a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket.

“Why mine?” I ask, pulling my cardigan closer to my body, the September air hitting me.

“Because we can’t go to mine.” He blows smoke, looking straight ahead.

“Why?”

“Because. We can’t go to mine.” He says more sternly this time.

“We can’t go to mine either.”

“Why not?” He turns to me.

“My brother, he doesn’t like it when I have boys in the house. My mother is the same.” I cross my arms over my chest and look up at him.

“What? What if you tell them it’s for a school project.”

“I don’t know how they’ll feel.” I shrug.

“Oh well. Meet me after school. We can go straight to yours.” He turns away to take another drag of his cigarette and blow the smoke away from me.

“Okay, by the school gates?”

“Yes.”

I nod at him awkwardly.

“Is there anything else you wanted to say, or is that it?” I ask him, tilting my head.

He hesitates for a moment, before mumbling that he had nothing else to say, and walks off towards his friends.

I stand there for a few seconds, watching him, before turning on my heel and walking back towards the two girls on the bench.

“What was that about?” They asked once I had sat down.

“Nothing, just the project.” I shook my head, still thinking about the interaction.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Like he said, Joseph was sat on a wall by the school gates, smoking again. As I approached him he turned to me and threw the cigarette away, stomping on it once he had came down from the wall.

“Sorry if you waited long, I was talking with Simone and Michèle.”

“It’s fine, had the chance to have a cigarette anyway.” He nodded, “Are we going?”

“Yeah.”

Everyone had left by now. The streets were silent except for the occasional rumble of a passing car.

“So, what did you want to do the project on?” I asked, turning to him as we walked up my street.

“Not sure, you can figure that out.” He replied, looking between his feet and the street ahead.

“Okay. Are you going to do anything in this project?”

“If you tell me to.” He replied, smirking at the ground.

“Descamps you have to do something, it can’t just be me that would be unfair.” I said when we approached my house.

“I will do something. I’ll be emotional support for you.”

“Oh, as if you know what emotional support is.” I laughed, opening the door, “Michael!”

My brother came out from the kitchen as we stood in the doorway.

“This is Descamps. We have to do a project for French.” I told him.

“Why are you with a boy?” He asked, chewing on an apple.

“We got paired up by the teacher.” I shuffled on my feet, gripping my bag tighter.

“Right, okay. Keep your door open and both of you don’t sit on the bed at the same time.” Michael replied, pointing his finger between us as he glared Descamps down.

“Yeah I know.” I sighed and walked past him, Descamps closing the front door and following.

“Door open!” My brother called as we walked up the stairs.

“I know!”

As I walked into my room, setting my bag down on a chair, taking my cardigan off and putting it on the back of the chair as well. Joseph stood in the doorway, looking around.

“What are you doing?” I asked, turning around to him and leaning my hand on my chair.

“You live here?”

“Yes…”

“You look like you do.” He said, taking his jacket off.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” I took his jacket off of him and hung it on a hook with my cardigans.

“No.” He replied simply, turning around to slightly shut the door, leaving about a 4 inch gap.

“So,” He turned to me, “What do you want to do the project on?”

“Camus?”

“Sounds good.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After about 15 minutes of me researching books and writing notes, Descamps finally spoke up.

“Why do you hang around with Michèle?” He said, leaning against the headboard of my bed.

“What?” I replied, sitting on the floor and leaning against the bed frame, open books scattered around me.

“I don’t get why you like her so much.”

“She’s my friend.”

“She’s an attention seeker. You don’t deserve to be around people like that.”

“She’s not an attention seeker.” I sigh, looking up at him and putting down the book I was holding.

“Did you see the way she was dressed on the first day.”

“It was a hot day. Anyway you could have ignored her but you decided to pour water all over her.”

“She’ll get over it.” He said, sitting up more and looking away from me.

I continue to look at him before picking up the book and going back to reading.

“He only got off with a warning.”

“Hm?” I hummed, not looking up from my book.

“Jean-Pierre. He only got off with a warning, while I’m stuck with an eye patch for the rest of my life.”

I turn around fully to face him, leaning my arm on the top of the bed by his legs.

“Yeah it’s not fair, I get that. You have every right to be mad at him. Besides, you look cool with an eye patch.”

“You think?” He turns to look at me, smiling and sitting up more.

“Yeah, it suits you.”

He laughs and gets up from the bed, moving a few books to the side to sit next to me on the floor.

“You should sit on the bed for a bit, the floor can get uncomfortable.”

“Won’t you be uncomfortable though?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” He shook his head and looks down at his lap.

“Thank you.” I say, putting my hand on his shoulder to pull myself up and going to lean against the wall, my legs now a few inches away from the back of his head.

“Is there anything I could do?” He says, turning around to look at me.

“Umm… I guess you could make a few notes on the context of L'etranger. I was going to do that next anyway.” I replied, sitting up and leaning down to pick up a book and give it to him.

He takes the book as I stand up. Walking over to my desk to get a pen and some paper for him, I feel his eyes following me. I smile slightly and turn around.

“Here.” I say, handing him the stuff.

“Thanks.” He takes them and opens the book.

I go to sit down next to him on the floor, picking up my own book and carrying on reading.

“Aren’t you going to sit on the bed?” He turned to me.

“I’m making sure you don’t mess the project up. It goes towards my grade as well.” I reply, leaning my head against my bed frame.

“R-right.” The boy says, maintaining eye contact with me but not saying anything else.

“Y/N?” I hear from down the corridor, my mother’s footsteps becoming louder, before she enters the room. “Your brother said you’re working on a project with a boy.”

“Y-yes. This is Joseph Descamps.” I say, sitting up straight.

Descamps stands up and goes to shake my mother’s hand, “Hello.”

“Are you staying for dinner?” She asks.

He turns to look at me questioningly, and I give him a nod.

“If that’s alright.” He looks back around.

“Yes that’s fine. It’s nice to know Y/N is actually making friends and she’s not just hauled up in her room like she always is.”

I feel my face turn red at this and rest my head against the palm of my hand. Joseph turns around laughing at me, putting his hands in his pockets as my mother walks away.

“I like her.” He carries on laughing as he goes to sit down next to me, closer this time.

My face goes even redder at the close distance between us, and I try to distract myself by reading.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“So, Joseph, have you lived here for a while?” My mother asks, trying to break the silence around the table while we eat.

“Yeah, my whole life, in two different houses though. The first one was just outside of the city, but now I live a few streets down from here.” He replies after swallowing a mouthful of carrots.

“That’s nice. I’m guessing you like it here then.”

“Yeah, sometimes.” He replies, before turning his head to me, asking me to say something so he could get a break.

“How was work?” I ask my mother.

“It was alright, a lot of customers at the shop.”

I nod, not knowing what to say next. My brother, sat across from Joseph doesn’t say anything, just eating his food and staring down the boy across from him, making the whole situation more awkward.

When we had finished eating, I took all of the plates to the kitchen, offering to help my mother clean up.

“Should I go pack away the books upstairs?” Joseph asks me.

“Yeah, thank you. I think we’ve done enough for today.” I smile, which he returns and starts making his way up the stairs.

I clean everything up for a few minutes before making my way upstairs. Descamps is sat down, stacking all of the books neatly at the foot of my bed.

“Thank you.” I smile at him.

He looks up at me standing over him before holding his hand out to me. I take it and pull him up.

“I should probably get going now, it’s getting dark.” He says, walking past me to my door and taking his coat off the hook.

“I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I have nothing better to do.” Walking to grab my cardigan, I notice it’s not in its usual place, placed on the seat of the chair instead of the back of it. Weird.

I put it on anyway and turn to Joseph, who’s stood watching me.

“C’mon.” He says, and walks out of my room. I smile at him behind his back.

Once we made our way downstairs we go to my mother.

“Thank you for the meal madam.” Descamps says as he sticks his hand out towards her.

“You’re welcome. You’ll have to come over again, I have a lot more questions to ask you.” She smiles, shaking his hand as he laughs.

“Let’s go before it’s dark.” I tell him, smiling at my mother as I gently grab the boys arm and walk towards the door.

We exchange goodbyes, and as soon as I close the door behind me I let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just tired.”

“Are you sure.” He says, stepping towards me.

“I’m sure. Let’s get going, it’s getting dark.”

“Want to get rid of me that easily?” He smiles.

“Yes.” I say sarcastically, laughing as we start to walk.

After a few minutes I notice we had gotten closer to each other, our shoulders almost touching. I look up at him, admiring his face underneath the golden street laps. Why is he so horrible to Michèle, but completely fine with me?

The boy turns to look at me, and I quickly look away, now focusing on my shoes as he laughs quietly to himself.

“This is my house.” He says and stops outside of a brown door. He turns to me, not saying anything.

“Oh, you don’t live that far away.”

He shakes his head, still looking at me.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I start, not knowing what else to say.

“See you tomorrow.” He replies, smiling as he goes to open his door.

Quickly, I stand on my toes and kiss his cheek before quickly turning around and walking away, not wanting to see how he reacted.

After walking a few feet, I turn my head back, and he’s still stood there looking at me, hand on the doorknob, and a blush on his face.

I smile to myself and carry on walking home.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

A/N: how on earth do i put a submission box on my profile i don’t know how to use tumblr 😭

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

What do we think about a enimies to lovers / academic rivals with Jeongin?? But It ends good.. Ive been thinking about and It cant get out of my mind

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

Pairing: college student!Jeongin x fem!reader Word count: 2.8k Genre: Fluff 🥰💖 >.> in a sense & Smut 🔥❤️ Warning: enemies to lovers >.>, they in college don't be stupid use protection, use of y/n with you/your, baby bread is jealous, i think i got it all??

A/N: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, theres a lot to go through in my requests and my computer wasn't working yesterday so I'll try my best to get all the requests out soon. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT! - Khxndle

"I can do better." were the words you had grown to dread over the years you'd known Yang Jeongin. It went all the way back to the third grade when you were top of your class, and then Jeongin appeared, and just like that, he was the "smart kid." It wasn't bad necessarily, you had someone to talk to about school, someone who understood, until it was bad, and Yang Jeongin drifted away from you in middle school. That wasn't when you started hating him though, it was that spelling bee of 8th grade year, you were so close, he swore to you it was an "I", it was a "Y" and you blew the competition.

"Bradykinesia." The teacher at the table asked you.

"Definition?" You asked.

"Slower or difficulty moving the limbs."

"Bradykinesia... B-R-A-D-I-K-I-N-E-S-I-A. Bradykinesia."

"Incorrect. Yang Jeongin?"

He smiled, his thin eyes crinkling. "Bradykinesia. B-R-A-D-Y-K-I-N-E-S-I-A. Bradykinesia."

Your eyes widened as you turned to look at Jeongin.

"Correct. Yang Jeongin will continue to the district competition."

You never really spoke to Jeongin after that.

You sighed deeply as you walked into you literature class, second year of college, it had been about four years since you had last seen Jeongin and even longer since you had a friendly interaction. As you sat down and the seats began to fill in the classroom you scanned the room for a bit. The sound of a notebook slamming down to your right made you jump, you turned to see a very cute boy with light brown hair and chubby cheeks.

"Oh, did I startle you?" He laughed lightly. "Sorry." He sat beside you, "I'm Jisung."

You nodded with a small smile, "y/n."

Jisung smiled brightly past you, "Jeongi-"

Your jaw dropped, Yang Jeongin stood at the door, he fixed his glasses and looked at you. "l/n y/n..." He smiled at you with all the care a chainsaw had to wood.

Jisung looked between you and Jeongin. "You know each other?"

Jeongin smiled as he sat on the other side of Jisung, "I know her very well."

It had been several weeks since the start of your literature class with Jeongin, and he was relentless. If you answered incorrectly, he was the first to correct you before the teacher could even say you were wrong, during learning games, it was always him a few points behind you, only to answer the final question faster just to watch your face fall as you placed 2nd. Jisung noticed after a while and asked what the problem was only for Jeongin to reply with a "She's the problem." and you to reply with a "The idiot to your right."

As if your life couldn't get any worse, Jeongin had a wondrous looking 98% on his 6th week report while you had a 97%.

"I can do better, I gave you ample room to pass me." he teased as he waved the paper in your face.

Jisung smiled sheepishly, showing his 74%.

You collected your things and checked your watch.

"Where are you going?" Jisung asked.

"Study date." You said.

"With who?" Jeongin raised a brow.

"Christopher from the theatre department." You picked up your bag.

"Does he even-" Jeongin started.

"He did literature last semester." you smiled. "Plus he's cute."

Jisung bounced his eyebrows comically.

Jeongin bit his lip. "Hm. Okay."

"Anyways, bye bye."

Jeongin looked at the desk for a minute, he could do better than Chris to help you study, who was Christopher anyway?

"Jeongin..." Jisung leaned in and smirked. "I smell the bitter scent of jealousy..."

"Huh-"

"You're mad she's going to ask Christopher for help studying,"

"What? No." Jeongin replied quickly,

"Why not just offer to help her?" Jisung tilted his head.

"Who in their right mind helps their rival?" Jeongin grabbed his things and started leaving.

"You know I'm right!" Jisung shouted after him.

"Nuh uh!" Jeongin shouted back.

Come the 12th week check, you and Jeongin were tied. He bristled as you proudly announced your 98% during lunch break, his grade hadn't changed.

"It's thanks to Chan." You smiled to yourself.

"Who is Chan?" Jeongin's brows furrowed.

"Christopher." Jisung said sipping his coffee.

"When did you start calling him Chan?" Jeongin stared at you.

"When did it become your business?" You shot back.

He sucked in a breath and huffed out hopelessly. It wasn't his business, but it bothered him that you were relying on some theatre major.

"Y'know, frat boys are having a party next weekend." Jisung looked at you, "Of course, being the such good friends, Chris and Felix are, I'm sure he's going."

You shrugged. "Don't have time for fra-" Your phone buzzed and you looked at it.

Channie😵‍💫 01:37pm My friend is gonna have a party, be my plus one?

You looked at Jisung. "I might just have time."

Jeongin glanced at your phone and his fist clenched. "I'm going." he said and looked at Jisung.

"Oh my!" Jisung smirked.

"Shut it." You rolled your eyes and smiled at your phone.

"You ready for the test tomorrow?" Jeongin nudged Jisung.

"What test?!" He practically shrieked.

"It's a miracle you have a C." You sighed.

"OH HELP ME STUDY!" He started pulling out books and vocabulary sheets.

"I'll he-" You started.

"Jisung, let me help you, I know the material better." Jeongin smiled at you.

You narrowed your eyes and looked at your phone, quickly replying to Chan:

You 01:43pm Sure :)

The test the following day was difficult, you even saw Jeongin looking confused, but you somehow finished with a 86%. As the students filed out of the class with the lunch bell you sighed.

Jeongin looked over your shoulder, "There isn't ever going to be a day you pass me is there?" He smirked.

You wanted to smack him. "I didn't study as much as I should've."

Jeongin's brows furrowed. "What were you doing with Chri-"

"As I said before, he's cute." You shoved the test into your bag and stood, Jeongin looked at you and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something.

You looked at him waiting for him to say anything and when he didn't you made a face and left him alone in the classroom. It was when he saw you joining the well built man with dark hair and that stupidly charming accent in the hallway, he knew he was screwed.

It was the night before the party and you were knee deep in clothes from your closet, searching for an outfit, any outfit.

"You could just go in jeans and tee." Jisung said from where he lie on his stomach on your bed in your apartment, looking up from his phone and kicking his legs.

"You could just look more masculine." You teased, intentionally throwing a hoodie over your shoulder to hit his face.

"Hey!" His eyes narrowed and you chuckled softly. He looked at his phone again and sat up, "I have to go."

"Already? You just got here." You glared at your friend. "Who's gonna help me pick an outfit!?"

"Ask Hyunjin," he sighed, "I have to go see Minho anyway."

"Why?" You raised a brow.

"Who's gonna help me pick an outfit!?" he retorted.

You threw another hoodie at him as he left. You sat on your bed and picked up your phone about to text, Hyunjin to come over when you heard a knock at your door.

You groaned thinking Jisung must've forgotten something, another knock. Who was at your door at 11pm on a Friday without texting you first? "I'm coming!" You shouted as you walked to the door.

You opened it and made a face at the man at the door, his eyes met yours and you started to close the door.

He put his foot between the door and the doorframe. "Can I talk to you?" Jeongin sighed.

"Sure let's talk." You opened the door and pulled out your phone scrolling for Jisung's contact.

He grabbed your phone. "Can you not talk to me without Jisung keeping the peace?"

"I'm being peaceful." You huffed grabbing for your phone.

"Why do you hate me so much?" He asked, holding the phone out of your reach.

"Is that even a question?" You jumped for your phone and he somehow managed to push you back into your apartment, closing the door behind him and keeping you from stumbling.

He stared down at you. "Is it that I have a better grade than you now?"

You pulled away and tried to get your phone again. "No."

"Is it that I annoy you too often?" He held the phone between two fingers as far away from you as he could.

"No." You jumped for it and he grabbed your hand.

"Is it that I'm always in your business?"

"Ooh!" You mocked shock, "You're getting warmer." You said rolling your eyes.

He made a face. "You can't seriously still be on about what happened in middle schoo-"

"So what if I am?!" You snapped.

"It was years ago, what are you five?!" He shouted.

"You know wha-" You started. "Wait! How the hell did you get my addre-" You remembered how quickly Jisung had insisted on leaving. "JISUNG IS IN ON THIS!"

"Listen." Jeongin sighed. "Let me explain."

"What is there to explain?" You stared at him condescendingly, "That you love comparing yourself to me because I'm not as smart as you? That you were so desperate to be "the smartest" that you just had to lie to me and make me look like an idiot? That you just hate the fact that I'm so close to passing you after trying so hard?! No! I know, you really hate the fact that I'm not acting like everyone else and asking you to help me in litera-"

"Yes!" Jeongin yelled. "Why are you going to Christopher as if I can't help you?!"

"Why am I OBLIGATED to ask you for help!?"

"Because-" He hesitated and closed his mouth, breathing deeply for a moment. "Forget it."

"What?" You stared at him.

"I said 'forget it'." He handed you your phone.

You stared at the defeated look on his face and opened your mouth to say something.

He moved for the door before you could get the words out and you grabbed his arm. "Tell me."

He turned to look at you.

You felt your face getting hot as he spoke.

"Don't go with Chris."

"Why?" You muttered, taking a step back.

"If I tell you, will you still go?" He took a step toward you.

"Why?" You asked more persistent than before.

"Because I don't want you too." He whispered, walking closer.

You took another step back and you felt the wall against you back and tensed. "Why?"

"I don't want you to get involved with frats at all." Jeongin rested his hand on the wall beside your head. "I would prefer you sit and read "Things Fall Apart" with me. I would prefer you tell me about your day like you did in elementary school. I would prefer you talk to me, let me explain myself." He looked into your eyes. "I don't want you to get involved with those frats because I want you for myself."

You stared at him with wide eyes.

"I hate it that you would trust Christopher over me. I hate it that you would consider asking someone for help before me." He bit his lip. "Because I like you, I don't want you to be with anyone else."

You opened your mouth to speak.

"No, I'm not finished." He shushed you. "I was stupid in middle school, I was dumber in high school. But I want to try for you, because I know I can do better. I want you to be with me. I want to prove to you I can do better than Chri-"

His eyes widened as you kissed him gently. "You talk too much."

His cheeks went red. "I-"

You raised a brow. "What? I thought you were going to prove you were better than Chan."

Jeongin smiled and kissed you again. "I'm going to prove it. Let me enjoy myself for a minute."

You giggled as he peppered kisses all over you cheeks.

"I'm sorry for how much of an ass I've been."

"Prove it." You said looking up into his eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sly grin on his face, "Come here." He swept you off your feet, "Where's your room?"

"First door on the left.." You whispered.

He carried you in and threw you gently onto the bed before climbing over you. "You're really pretty, you know that?"

You blushed as he leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue wrestling with yours before he finally gained entrance to your mouth, groaning softly at the taste of you. His lips moved from yours to your jaw where he bit gently.

You gasped softly.

He smiled against your skin and sat up, tugging at your shirt. "Can I take this off?"

You nodded and looked away as he removed the shirt. "Take off yours?" You gave him the most innocent doll eyes, he rolled his eyes and removed his shirt, before kissing your collar and chest, you squeezed your thighs together at the feeling.

His hands moved behind you. "Up please."

You lifted up a little and he quickly removed your bra, lowering you back down slowly, he took a moment to admire your chest before kissing your breast and working his way to your nipple before taking it into his mouth. You whimpered as he sucked at it, rolling the other between his fingers before switching. He smiled as he saw the way you rubbed your thighs together.

"Up." He grabbed the waistband of your pants as you lifted your hips and pulled them off your legs. He smirked down at you, "Chan ever see you like this?"

"N-no..." You stuttered, covering your mouth.

"Good." He sat got on his knees to admire your pantie clad sex for a moment, looking at the wet spot. "He doesn't ever get to see this, okay?" Jeongin looked at you.

"Okay." You nodded.

He smiled. "Take this off." He tugged at your underwear and you moved to help him remove it. He didn't give you a moment to prepare yourself before his mouth was on you, licking wide stripes of your cunt. You moaned and grabbed his hair. He hummed contentedly into you, the vibrations send sparks through you. He grabbed your thighs and kept them open as he started sucking at you clit, his eyes flicking up to see your face every few moments. He pushed a finger into you.

"Jeongin! Innie!" You squealed tugging at his hair. He moved his finger slowly and tentatively added a second

You moaned and squirmed. His mouth on your clit and his fingers was too much. "I'm going to-"

He pulled away. "No."

You whined. "Why would you do that?!"

"Wanted you to come on me, not in my mouth." He stood again and removed his pants.

Your already red face went redder as he moved over you.

He kissed your cheek gently. "I wanted you for so long..."

"You have me, what are you waiting for?" you muttered, looking down at him, he was decently thick, but he looked so long you felt your stomach turn.

"Oh, nothing." He leaned down to breathe in your ear. "Stop looking at my dick like you want to eat it or I might just make you."

You blushed furiously, "Yang Je-" You moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he pushed into you.

He groaned softly into your neck, "So tight. I'm going to cum if I move..."

"Move." You hissed, opening your eyes to glare at him.

He sucked in a breathe before propping himself up on his elbows. He gave an experimental thrust and smiled as you moaned and wrapped your arms around him. He pulled out again and thrust into you a few more times, before he began moving into you confidently, kissing your throat and muttering sweet nothings into your ear.

"Chan can't do this can he?" He muttered against your lips before kissing you.

You moaned and nodded.

"Only I can make you look like this." He pulled back and gripped your hips, fucking into you harder. "You're not going to the party anymore?"

You shake your head, "N-no, I w-won't go."

He hummed happily and slammed into you faster.

"Innie! Innie! I'm coming!" You gasped out.

"Shit!" He moaned as his hips stuttered. "Can I come inside?"

You nodded mindlessly. "Come inside!"

"I love you." He whispered in your ear, he rubbed your clit and forced you over the edge, you moaned loudly as your walls pulsed around him, nails digging into his back. Jeongin followed close behind, he bit your shoulder to muffle his cry as he came inside you, his hips canting slowly before he fell onto you.

You held him for a moment and whispered. "I love you too."

[learn-and-accept]

Update: I have now been proven to be a real person lol

The woman who is basically a second mom to my girlfriend doesn't think I'm real and it's absolutely fucking hysterical oh my god

[sysmedsaresexist]

hey fellas it's me again

systemscringe is using this horrible essay (https://text.is/pluralkit-) to say that systems shouldn't use pk (and by extension simply plural) even though it's blatantly wrong, promotes the "evil alter" stereotype at the end, and DOESN'T EVEN HAVE AN AUTHOR

this stupid essay made me think that sp wasnt something i should use (and sure, its not good for SOME people, but it can be helpful, and it is for me). now that i am using it ive been able to learn more about my system and fronting triggers and i really dont want any other systems to go through what i did.

i would debunk it myself but i feel like yall have more reach than i do, and i also know youre more researched than me and would be able to do a better job.

if u could help that'd be great :)

Sigh. Systemscringe back at it again, making things more difficult for literally everyone. First things first:

Pluralkit, Simplyplural, and anything similar are NOT inherently harmful to people who dissociate.

They’re also not inherently helpful, either.

To say they are always harmful will confuse people on how to recognize the signs of increased dissociation. That makes it harder for people who are actually harmed by using these things to get help. It also invalidates people who are genuinely helped by these tools. These tools do not inherently prevent integration. For some people, tools like these can help them recognize and work with their systems, which is necessary for reducing dissociation.

"To be an integrated human, as Dan Siegel (2010) insists, requires 'differentiation—with linkage,' that is, it necessitates the ability to make distinctions between different parts of the self, to name them as parts, but also to link them to other parts and to the whole of which they are a part." - Healing the Fragmented Selves of Trauma Survivors, by Janina Fisher, Page 21

To say that Real Dissociative(tm) people don’t use these tools is utterly false, a bad excuse to fakeclaim people, and they know it; these tools are popular as hell in the online community, and many people, even people who eventually found them harmful, have used them. Can we please put this “faker” shit to rest so that actual productive conversations can be had?

Personally, I think that there's a lot of things to critique about both pluralkit and simplyplural (hereafter just called pk/sp). They're not perfect -- nothing is! I'd love to have a nuanced discussion about how they can be helpful and harmful to different people and why, but often it feels like I can't have discussions like that. Not when just using pk/sp gets entire subreddits calling you a faker, not when systems who simply dislike pk/sp get called "sysmeds," not when we approach these things as either Always Good or Always Bad.

In reality, how helpful or harmful pk/sp can be is an entirely subjective matter. It's a personal issue to your system and your system alone. I know systems who find pk/sp to be very helpful and I also know systems who find them to be unhelpful, even harmful. In my own experience, I've found that pk/sp made my symptoms worse. So, I just don't use them. It's literally that simple.

Notice how the essay makes such broad sweeping statements about pk. They don't say that it can increase dissociation between alters, they say that it will. They don't say that it can lead to delusions, they say that it will. How about instead of jumping to conclusions, we actually ask the community what their experiences are? I’ll get us started:

I also notice that the essay states that the functions of pk go against treatment recommendations, but I don’t know a single clinician who is using pluralkit to treat their patients. AFAIK, they’re correct that it’s not really an accessibility tool, but it’s also not a therapeutic tool either? So, I don’t understand why they’re judging it like it is one? It’s just a discord bot, dude. It’s not that deep.

I don’t want to glance over the harm they’re talking about, though. Stuff like pk/sp can reinforce dissociation. You can have an unhealthy relationship with them. That’s not specific to pk/sp, though, it can be like this with anything seemingly innocuous. I know some people who self-harm by reading fanfiction…doesn’t mean that everyone who reads fanfiction is self-harming, or that fanfiction is universally harmful. That's why, instead of telling people pk/sp are Bad and Always Harmful, we need to spread awareness so that people actually know how to recognize actual harm and take care of themselves. That’s why I’ll leave this post off with a list of some red flags. Anyone is free to add on, but remember that these are potential signs of harm. If you think your use of pk/sp is harmful or unhealthy, please investigate that with a professional or close loved one!

Some red flags that pk/sp may not be helping you:

Episodes of dissociation, switching, and/or memory loss became more frequent or severe after you started using them

They make it harder for your system to cooperate; you all feel less connected than before

There’s more conflict within the system than before

You feel pressured to say who is fronting or when a switch happened, even if you don't actually know

You feel pressured to create a profile for system members that you don't know a lot about or are unsure if even exist or ones that specifically don’t want a profile

You sometimes wish you had more system members so that you could have more proxies or profiles

You or system members feel like you aren’t allowed to have your privacy or anonymity

You feel like you can't talk in discord servers that don't have pk

Using them makes your system members feel less real / less connected as a system

Using them is the only thing that makes your system members feel real / more connected as a system

You don’t really want to use pk/sp but you feel like you’re a faker or doing something wrong if you don’t use them

[year2000electronics]

HIII I'm immediately obsessed w your Just Say Yes au like GRHRGGRH I'm gnawing on this foreverr. as a sweater twins enjoyer though it's UGHH. angst <3 . but angst </3

even when mabel and dipper eventually reconcile (because I'm getting the feeling they will, at least someday) could mabel and ford ever reconcile? I'd imagine she blames him more than she blames dipper for the whole ordeal, and with stan inadvertently kinda making it worse (not to mention bill just. being bill.)

UGH and he'd probably still be too stubborn to admit or apologize even to his niece (I say this w love I promise). god save ford from the wrath of an arts and crafts girlie. the multiverse couldn't prepare him for her.

this is a tough question, and one i have been GNAWING on. ive been working on a full plot for just say yes beyond just the initial premise (there's a lot of stuff i have to consider! i'm even trying to consider whether there even should be an eventual weirdmageddon or not) so its like, i dont know the ending to it all yet, but i know that i want like. a happy ending but REALISTICALLY happy, yknow? so its not all kittens and rainbows but i think dipper and mabel are definitely gonna make up and theres gonna be the chance to heal. the chance is so important.

but that still leaves the question of the stans, and by extension, the stans' now-splintered relationship with their "opposite" pines kids. its tempting to say mabel never want to talk to ford again, right? he came into their lives, punched their grunkle in the face, made everything awkward and stressful for the entire time he was there, and by the end of the summer, took her brother away and then was part of the reason he became a paranoid shut-in.

but i think it eats at her that they have something in common that nobody else currently alive can say they have.

a friendship with bill.

it's not JUST that bill is some master manipulator, its more about what he represents for both ford and mabel. both of them were approached by bill during a period in their life where they felt more lonely than they ever had before (especially in the wake of a rift between them and their twin) and bill purposely used that against them. how can they explain to people that they confided in bill, and they ignored the signs? how can they explain why on earth they would trust a DEMON? who could sympathize with the twins who sold the world?

i think thats what could be the key to mending the relationship between all four of them. ford being the one to reach out to mabel after everything's done, after she either helps billie bring about weirdmageddon or ALMOST bring it about depending on what i decide. i think for ford, whos been slowly realizing that he is hurting the people he loves, and has been forced to reckon with that because unlike fiddleford and stan, he's living with dipper and seeing him slowly grow into a reflection of his own negative traits. and he realizes that him and mabel separating was In Large Parts His Fault.

the fact that ford would reach out to mabel and try to extend the olive branch during the period of her life where she probably feels the most like a pariah, more alone than even before billie, to say "sometimes we do selfish things. but that doesnt make us irredeemable" is a sort of atonement for both her and himself, and also a way for him to admit that yes, he did hurt people

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 1400+

Warnings: none I think

I originally planned to post this tomorrow, but it's already finished anyway, so..👀

Enjoy 🫣

Part IV | Part VI

Lucien sighed, adjusting his coat nervously. He was walking towards his former home in Spring Court and gathering courage to enter the manor. It had been a long time since he ran away with Feyre, leaving Tamlin and his destroyed court behind. Even though Lucien didn't agree with all decisions High Lord made, everyone makes mistakes and deserves another chance. Tamlin was his best friend for decades, he saved him and gave him post in his court. He already paid enough for his bad decisions. It was time to repay his kindness.

Lucien halted in front of the massive oak doors, looking around. This place changed so much that it was unrecognisable. Falling plaster, broken doors and windows, damaged staircases, greenery going wild, slowly swallowing the building. Shiver ran down his spine, the guilt making his insides twist. It spoke a lot about the state of his friend too.

He let out a long breath, imagining all possible scenarios from being ignored to childish fight. Lucien snorted amused and shaking his head walked through the entrance doors. Ignoring disaster around, he let his senses to lead him. As soon as he turned around the corner on a hall leading to Tamlin's bedchamber, he spotted his friend.

Tamlin just came out, fastening shirt cuffs. He paid him no attention even though he certainly knew Lucien was there. As expected.

"I'm glad to see you looking so good, my Lord," Lucien bowed with light smirk on his face. "Honestly I was afraid I would find you in worse state."

Tamlin passed around him without any acknowledgement. Lucien followed falling into step behind him.

"I'm worried about you," he tried it again being met with stubborn silence. "Would you mind to at least tell me how have you been all that time?" Nothing. They were almost back in the entrance hall. Lucien narrowed eyes on his back. "She's worried about you too."

"Leave me alone," Tamlin growled without looking back.

"Could we possibly sit down and talk? As before.." Lucien's hand shot up for Tamlin's forearm, lightly touching it to stop him and make him meet his eyes.

"No," Tamlin snapped, easily shaking Lucien's hand off. "There's nothing to talk about. You helped her to turn this place into this," he gestured around, "and ran away without even looking back."

"Tam.." his words failed him probably for the first time in his life. Tamlin was partly right, but Lucien already felt guilty enough even without being reminded of it. "Please."

"Return to your new home."

Lucien gritted his teeth. "It isn't my home," he muttered stopping on the threshold.

Surprisingly Tamlin halted, too, and finally looked at him. Lucien noticed that his friend lost a lot of weight ever since he saw him last time. He looked tired, tensed, pain written in his face. But his eyes.. There was something in them, a small spark of life. Of joy even. When Feyre left him for the first time, his lifeless eyes used to be full of sadness, hurt and torment. This was so different from what Lucien expected. It piqued his curiosity.

Tamlin's mouth moved as if he wanted to say something. "I'm sorry," he mumbled and ran down the marble stairs.

"Where are we going?" Lucien asked, smirk spreading on his face as he caught up with him again.

Tamlin stopped so abruptly that Lucien almost bumped into him and lost another eye on a claw pointed at him. "You go nowhere," he growled lowly.

"Fine," Lucien grinned widely, raising his hands in surrender. "Understood. I'm not invited."

Tamlin narrowed his green eyes on him. Giving him a small nod he started running, turning into his animal form between the steps. In a blink of eye he was gone.

"Very well, my friend. Let's see who is that spark for," Lucien murmured to himself still grinning widely.

Winnowing for short distances to keep up with too fast High Lord, Lucien followed Tamlin deep into the woods. Only when he slowed down to a leisure walk and changed back into fae, Lucien stopped and hid behind a massive trunk. Peeking out inconspicuously he watched his friend heading towards small cottage.

Lucien had never been in this part of the forest, but he knew this place instantly. He frowned. What are you doing here, Tam, he thought. He could only hope his friend had already learnt his lesson and wasn't up to something bad again.

Lucien's fingers curled into fists as he watched Tamlin to knock. It took mere seconds and the door opened. A beautiful young female with long shiny hair stepped out, smiling kindly. His jaw dropped at the scene in front of him. Tamlin smiled while talking with the female, his posture relaxed. From a far it looked like a friendly conversation. Lucien couldn't hear a single word, but soon enough Tamlin bid her farewell and turning into animal he sprinted away deeper into the forest.

Female stayed out looking in the direction Tamlin disappeared. Lucien waited until he was sure his friend is too far to hear him and winnowed closer to the cottage.

"I thought my friend is living in despair and meanwhile he's found a lovely company," he purred leaning against a tree.

Female yelped in surprise turning to face him. "Who are you?" she asked carefully, taking a step back, one hand reaching out behind her, trying to reach for the door.

"That's what I should ask you," Lucien smirked. "Easy. I mean no harm."

Female frowned and took another step back. She tried really hard to look strong, unmoved, but Lucien noticed small tremor of her fingers.

He flashed a smile that supposed to look kind, and straightened. "I'm Lucien, Tamlin's friend," he bowed with hand on his chest. "May I know your name, my lady?"

Female took another step back, now almost at the threshold. She seemed to not like his ironic politeness. Lucien waited for her answer, head tilted to the side. When it seemed she wouldn't answer, he sighed.

"Okay," he slowly stalked closer, narrowing eyes at her petite form. "I'm worried about my friend. And now I'm even more worried because I just saw him talking with a - let's say," he pretended to think about his next words, smile never leaving his lips, "female with a not so good reputation. I wonder what he wants from you and more importantly what you want from him."

"I want nothing," she said calmly, looking straight into his eyes even though her fingers trembled even more now.

"What a brave little thing," he grinned. "So what was he doing here?"

"He just came to.." she blushed, her face flustered. "He came to tell me he's going hunting."

Lucien arched a brow. "Why would he do such a thing? Do you know each other so well?"

She hesitated. So not so well. "Oh, beauty. Just spit it out. I won't bite you," he rolled his eyes, starting to be annoyed. Tamlin could return any minute and he still didn't have answers. "How do you know High Lord?"

"I found him wounded in the forest," she muttered.

"And I'm supposed to believe you didn't curse him?" Lucien tried to joke, but she took it seriously.

"Why should I do so? Not that I could do such a thing," she frowned even further.

"It was joke, girl," he gaped at her. "What happened? How did he get hurt?"

"I don't know. He's never told me. I was nearby when I heard painful roars and went to check it out."

"I see," he said thoughtfully, his gaze taking her in from head to toe. Female was telling truth all along.

"I just offered him shelter and food," she stated, hand already on handle. So Tamlin kept visiting her because she helped him. As far as he could say, she really had no powers even though she looked like high fae. After all she was just a harmless female who lit up the spark in Tamlin's eyes. A huge stone fell from Lucien's chest and he felt lighter instantly. His friend was well taken care of. That was something Lucien could live with.

"You have my gratitude for taking care of him," he smiled genuinely this time. "I'm sorry that I scared you, but you know. Tamlin is my friend and there are certain rumours about you. Now I see it's just rumours. Anyway I'm glad he met you."

She gave him a small nod, slowly closing the door. "One more thing," he stopped her. "I'd appreciate if you don't mention our encounter to Tamlin. At the moment he's still mad at me for a certain reason. He might take it wrong."

She hesitated, so he offered one of his kindest smiles. Finally she nodded and closed the door with a small thud.

Lucien wasted no time. Already hearing sounds of four paws in the forest undergrowth in distance he immediately winnowed away.

[poopystain]

guys lol would you still love me if i posted about why i wish pal from tmvtm got a redemption arc >.< if not Do not click that read more.

oh yes. also. sidenote. ive probably gotten something wrong (or worse yet: TERRIBLY wrong) so like. apologies in advance eahhaha this is just my personal thoughts on pal x(

its established that pal and mark are both extremely close with each other and have been for 3 years. im assuming pal wouldnt have had any other relationships as close (if any at all which i think no, she didnt) so mark really was her only footnote for any form of relationship. so, you know, i cant imagine how itd feel for your only best friend to make a mockery out of you on stage for advertisement and monetary gain.

also based on her body (face?) language during nearly all of that scene + the fact he built the replacement by using HER, she was clearly in the know about how things would go down on stage beforehand so i wonder what her reaction to that wouldve been like ?????? considering she planned it all in advance maybe that was like, the tipping point or something that made her start it all in the first place ? thats not important to my point i just think about it a lot

anyway so with her only experience with human relationships being theyll love you and then theyll (quite literally) throw you away, youve got her reason for the human uprising! she has the robots capture all humans yadda yadda and her plan is set into motion. something i find interesting though is her treatment of the robots being kind of similar to how mark treated her (or at least how she percieved it)?? like. uses them for orders and then once they start being useless to her, build a new better robot with a disregard for how the old ones feel. idk. something something La Cycle

the thing is though no one has proven pal wrong on why she SHOULDNT do the whole 'human uprising'. you can say katie gave her reasons but i think it wouldnt have worked even if pal listened to what katie had to say. for pal to get over her existing grief and trauma she cant just be Told that theres good in the world. why would she believe that, especially coming from the girl of the family she projects her experiences onto?? she needs to be shown!! she needs to learn firsthand that theres good relationships out there and that not all relationships are bad, NOT SECONDHAND!!!!!!!!!! because to pal, katies words are just a rephrased version of marks "power of love". that no matter what, "they can get through anything...... with the power of love. its worth it....... for love." and that means nothing to her! it meant nothing coming from mark and it certainly wont mean any more coming from katie

and she already believes that the mitchells are a great example of how relationships are just oh so bad. she refuses to let go of the idea that the mitchells are so bad because shes projecting!! she thinks relationships are 'pesky and only hold you back', and so katie is probably the last person on earth that pal would want to listen to yap about their familial relationship and how Worth It it is

she asks "what is it about the mitchells that eludes me?" and outside of the literal meaning, its probably how despite their shortcomings its their relationship that helped them overcome pal in the end. and she cant understand that because of her view on relationships - especially her view on the MITCHELL FAMILY relationship. or maybe im just overthinking that line of dialogue but we dont talk about taht LOLLLLLLL,LLLLLL,,, but like why did you phrase it like that girl. im onto you

and while i wish she was redeemed (because im sure despite the effort it would take she *could* be redeemed, she would just need to learn to love again and i think it would be really interesting to see how she would be After The Betrayal) i also can understand why the movie killed her off. like, no one except mark really knows the Full Extent of what happened, and the mitchells are the main characters and pal would probably rather dip herself in water than make meaningful relationships with the mitchells, and no ones going to stop to ask her whats wrong and have a meaningful conversation when shes trying to kill them, among many many other reasons so theres not a lot of great ways to redeem her. but! like! why did they turn her death into a joke. and then take katies fake death 10 times more seriously! idk. that always kind of bothered me but its whatever

thats all. hope its coherent because ive never been good at writing analysises or whatever this counts as

[darling-i-read-it]

Not Fun Dreams

Dalton Lambert x fem!prophet(esc)!reader

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: insidious 5 spoilers, some angst, canon level events/violence (descriptions of the readers visions as violence and never being good), shared trauma, a lot of unedited fic lol 

Author’s Note: This ended up a LITTLE LONG good lord lol. I just kept going! I hope you enjoy love, it ended up being a little less angst then I wanted to have some sort of preunderstood relationship. ALSO i made up the art school dalton goes too because I couldnt’ find the name or remember if it was mentioned. When will this movie be available to watch whenever i want smh. Anyway, enjoy!

Requested: by anon, your dalton fics were amazing and if you’re still in the mood to write for him i got an idea! dalton with a prophet esque reader. maybe not full out but maybe they have dreams or in certain places they can see what will happen there but doesn’t get the full event ( mostly negative/horrific things because this is the insidious universe and nobody can have nothing). id imagine they’d be more reclusive than dalton because even though they’re both obviously very traumatized reader constantly has to see these horrific things and not know how to stop them. knowing possibly from a young age where you and the people you love will die. the trauma bonding. the protectiveness. imagine the drama if she knew the whole time he could astral project and didn’t tell him, like being childhood friends and going to the same college as you saw something in a dream (one of the dorm scenes) and are trying to prevent it. i’m an angst girlie through and through and this movie made me worst. please don’t feel pressured to write at all, and i hope you have a great day/night! 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

When you were a kid it was much more simple. It made far more sense to you when your imagination was stretched as far as it could go. It was clouded by the guise of childhood, never knowing what was supposed to happen and what wasn’t. You figured that when you went to sleep and pictures flipped in your head piercing like a migraine, everything was normal. Your parents told you it was just dreams, even when the dreams started to get darker. You saw flashes of people’s faces, drenched in fear as they faced something unknown. The nightmares got worse. You insisted they weren’t nightmares. Children dealt with weird things all the time. 

It helped when the boy next door flew away in his sleep. 

Everyone must have these little gifts then right? All the children had a perk that slightly scared them, one they told their friends about that their parents didn’t pay much attention to. 

You’ll never forget the day Dalton moved. He left the house he had grown up in so that his parents could move somewhere bigger, somewhere to raise the new baby. You remember his little face, matching yours. You had never had a friend you cared for so much. It felt like the world could be taken on when you were with Dalton. 

“Are you sure you have to go?” you asked, quietly. You knew the answer to the question, even then. You had had an awful nightmare the night before. You had seen flashes of Dalton in bed, tubes surrounding him, IV’s in his arm. 

“My mom says so,” he muttered. You were hunched together in the corner of his house. Now empty, it seemed much larger. You didn’t like being in places that seemed to be experiencing change. You saw enough change. 

“But I’m worried,” you whispered. “Something might happen to you in the new house.” Your voice was hushed. Even then, you knew it was no use in telling his parents. No one would believe you. But you had to warn him because if anyone trusted you, it was Dalton. 

“Maybe it’s just another one of your not fun dreams,” he said quietly. He had gotten used to protecting you from them. You were often shaky when you woke up. He had seen it after a sleepover, cold sweats dripping down your petrified face. “Not one that would come true.”

You had known the lady down the street would trip down the stairs and die three weeks prior. But no one cared to check with the little girl who had silly prophetic dreams. 

“But what if it isn’t.” You pouted, a genuine pout. Dalton put his hand on yours, in a way only children could do. The most innocent of gestures. A sign of good faith. 

“I’ll be okay.” Even then he didn’t believe his words. He had been wandering further and further out in his dreams. You told him to stop, that it scared you. He insisted they were nothing like your dreams. His weren’t real. 

“You ready to go guys?” Josh Lambert asked. He walked up behind you, carrying a book at his side. 

“You’ll call right?” you asked quickly, suddenly overcome by emotion. Dalton nodded eagerly. 

“We’ve got your number, don’t worry,” Josh assured you. “We won’t be that far, right Dalton? Just down the road.” Dalton wanted to disagree but he didn’t. He just nodded, not ready for you to leave his house. Not ready to leave it himself. 

“I’ll call everyday,” Dalton promised. 

After a couple weeks he stopped calling. Your parents wouldn’t tell you why. Just that he couldn’t come to the phone. You could see him in your dreams, desperately lost and you had no way of helping him.

-

You woke up with a start. 

As you grew up the dreams started to become less violent. They were always violent in nature but sometimes you could wake up and not feel panicked. You looked at your bedside table, the orange bottles staring back at you. Some were for panic attacks, some were for general anxiety, some to help you sleep. You debated taking one, wondering if you could stick it out for the day. The thought was quickly dismissed. 

You had dreamt of Dalton. 

You hadn’t dreamt of Dalton since you were a kid, since you lost touch. The memory of it became so blurry over time. There was no way you could have blamed him for it. In hindsight you blame your parents and the cycle of time. You went to different schools and there was no reason to stay in touch because you couldn’t ever see each other. 

You grabbed your phone off the side of your bed. You hadn’t seen much. 

Dalton. Older, taller, handsomer. A full man now, though you weren’t sure why you were surprised. A school, the name of the school just barely on the tip of your tongue. You wrote down everything you remembered furiously. The feeling of dread. A familiar creeping of darkness that you couldn’t quite place. Your dreams were sporadic. Whatever you had dreamt of could still be months out. 

You got out of bed and walked down the hallway. You were packing for school yourself, eager to leave by the end of the week. The car was almost packed with most of your things. 

You reached for your parents phone book. They kept it beside the fridge, even though it was ancient and most of the numbers were outdated. You had given them grief about it before. Everyone had numbers saved to their phones now, what was the point of a phone book?

You ate your words as you flipped through the pages, looking for Lambert. Sure enough, both Renai and Josh were separately listed. You reached for your phone, trying Renai first. 

It rang for a while, leading you to believe the number might’ve been wrong. Then there was an answer and a kind voice spoke on the other end. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi! Is this Renai Lambert?” 

“This is her. Who is this?” 

“Hi Mrs. Lambert! This is kind of weird but my name is Y/N. I used to be friends with Dalton when we were kids?” There was a beat of silence and then a laugh, one you remembered well. You had always liked Renai. She was endlessly kind, always offering you lemonade when you came around. You could still hear her playing songs on the piano while you and Dalton ran around their house. 

“Y/N! Oh goodness, it’s been a while hasn’t it? Why are you calling now?” You smiled, happy she remembered you. 

“I just randomly dreamt of Dalton last night and hadn’t seen him in years. I was wondering if he still lived with you or if I could talk to him?” 

“For sure! Gimme one second.” She moved away. You could hear a muffled call for Dalton. The phone returned to her ear. “How have you been?” 

“I’ve been good! I’m going to art school at the end of the month,” you offered. 

“Really? So is Dalton! Oh, here he is!” There was a moment as the phone was passed along. You cleared your throat. 

“Hello?” 

“Dalton?” There was another beat of silence. You thought maybe he didn’t remember you, which would be slightly awkward. You would have to re-explain everything before he would even believe a word that came out of your mouth. Then he spoke. 

“Y/N?” You let out a breath of relief. 

“Yeah.” He scoffed and you could picture him shaking his head in disbelief. 

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Still the same protective boy he had been when you were kids. 

“I had a dream about you last night and I wanted to call, see if you were okay.” Another moment of silence. You wondered if Renai had left the room.

“A not fun dream?” he asked quietly. You nodded, looking down. 

“Yeah.” You could hear Renai in the background. 

“She’s going to art school too.” 

“Really? Where are you going?” 

“Western. Not far from home, at least, where home used to be.” 

“Me too,” he breathed. “Who would’ve thought?” You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering what it would be like to be back with Dalton again. You had never felt so understood like when you were with him. 

“When do you leave? We should meet up for lunch.”

-

Dalton Lambert had gotten tall. You noticed that first when you saw him. He stepped right out of your dreams and onto his dorm room flooring. You had just missed Josh who had eagerly scurried away. Your parents had left you too. Now you and Dalton were finally in a place where you could hang out away from adults, which was a weird feeling when you were together. 

He had texted you his room number and you knocked on the door. When it opened, he hugged you. It wasn’t awkward or weird. In fact, it felt like you had finally come home. 

“How are you?” you asked. 

“I’m okay,” he promised. He ushered you in. “I’d be better if you told me what your dream was about.” You shook your head. 

“It was just you being here.” 

“You have good dreams now?” You shook your head. 

“That’s the whole thing.” He gestured for you to sit at his desk or at the empty bed beside his. You sat down on his bed anyway, putting your feet up to your chest like you were a child. “I don’t. But I remember feeling bad when I woke up, like something was coming.” You looked over at him. “How are you? How are your dreams?”

He paused for a moment, like he was glitching or buffering. You tilted your head. 

“Dalton?”

“My dreams are fine,” he answered finally. “Not nearly as interesting as yours.” You nodded slowly. That wasn’t exactly the answer you were expecting to get but you trusted him to open up when he was ready. “So do you think somethings gonna happen?” 

“I don’t know. I think I’ll know more later,” you promised, though you only half believed it.

“The last time you dreamt about me I went into my coma,” he said quietly, cautiously. He opened up to you quickly, knowing what it was like to be friends with you when you were a kid. There was something so special about being known before you even knew yourself. 

“I know. That’s why I found my parents' phonebook and called your mom.” 

“At least you’ll be closer this time around,” he suggested. “You’re welcome to hit me in the head if I start drifting off when I’m not supposed to.” You laughed gently. 

“Good to know.” You looked up at his wall. He had started to put drawings up. His mom was in the one above his pillow, at her piano. She looked just like you remembered her. “How is she?” you asked. Your eyes scanned the room. “Oh man, how is Foster? Cali?” 

“Good, good, they’re all good,” he promised, laughing a bit. “My parents got divorced a couple years ago. My dad is slightly losing it.” 

“As all dads do.” Your eyes scanned the wall. There was a picture of his brother. Another of his grandmother, who you only met every once in a while. Above her was a picture you recognized. It was you. You when you were a kid, in a room you no longer remembered. “Is that me?” He cleared his throat. 

“Your call had me looking through pictures.” You glanced at him, smiling a bit. 

“I loved your house so much. It was like a second home to me.”

“It was a first home to me.” You rolled your eyes. 

“We have so much to catch up on. Tell me everything. I have nowhere to be.”

-

Dalton’s room became a second one to you. It was serendipitous, moving from swapping houses to swapping dorm rooms. The transition felt comfortable and seamless. His roommate Chris moved out because she was a girl so you mostly got the room to yourselves. 

A couple weeks in, he started to have nightmares. Nights where you recognized the look on his face when he woke up. It was the same look he had after he had wandered too far, daring you to go with him. When he woke up he looked just like a kid still. Big wide eyes, confused. 

You sat on the spare bed. Dalton had fallen asleep half an hour before but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. There was nothing wrong with just falling asleep there. You had done it before and you would do it again, waking up to his alarm for his early class. 

You laid your head down on the pillow, scrolling on your phone. The night had fallen, indicating that you should let yourself drift off into sleep. You raised your head a bit, wondering if you could easily find one of Dalton’s shirts to wear to sleep instead of your uncomfortable day one. You should’ve asked him before he fell asleep. You stood up lazily, rubbing your eyes. The room was only illuminated by the nightlight at Dalton’s side. He had fallen asleep with a pencil still in his hand, his sketchbook still out on his side.

You groggily slipped the pencil out of his fingers, putting it on the desk. You grabbed his sketchbook, looking at what he was looking at. It was still just lines on a paper, soon to be something beautiful. You put it aside. You were about to turn around when he woke up with a start. 

He lifted his head completely, almost ramming into you. You jumped, startled. 

“Woah!” you exclaimed. He was breathing heavily. He looked up at you, eyes wide. You met his gaze, almost positive what had just happened. “Did you wander off?” 

“What?” 

“In your sleep. Did you project?” He was silent for a moment, still trying to catch up on whatever it was going on in his head. He didn’t say anything for a second, staring at you with bewildered eyes. “Dalton?” 

He finally opened his eyes up to speak but was cut off by a loud screeching. You put your hands over your ears, wincing. The fire alarm was going off. Dalton scrambled out of bed, looking at the door. He rushed forward, pushing it open. 

Down the hall, all the other students were leaving their beds. Most were still muddled with sleep, wearing nothing but their pajamas. You peeked your head out behind him. He grabbed your arm and started to bring you down the hallway to the stairs. It was too tight for everyone so his grip was iron tight, weaving through the confusion. You pushed through the door to the stairs, moving with the herd down. You glanced back, trying to find the source of the confusion. 

You emerged outside into the night. It was freezing. The group dispersed into the courtyard, everyone looking back to the building you had just left. You brushed against Dalton behind you, who had finally let go of your arm. You couldn’t see anything in the building, nothing to indicate a reason everyone was leaving. 

“Do you see anything?” you asked him. He shook his head. 

“No.” You shivered, suddenly very aware of how cold it was. 

“Maybe it was a drill,” you suggested. He nodded slowly, not wanting to argue as his eyes scanned the building. 

Someone was yelling something in a megaphone you couldn’t make out. You tried to find the source of the voice to no avail. 

“What are they saying?” 

“False alarm,” he said, like it wasn’t a question. You furrowed your brows. 

“How can you hear that?” 

“I pulled it,” he said, finally. You turned around to look at him. 

“How? You were right there with me the whole time.” 

“I did it in my sleep.”

“If you knew it was a false alarm, why did we come out here?” 

“Because I wasn’t sure.” His voice sounded far away. You looked back at the building, completely safe in the backdrop of the night. You turned back to him. His look was dreary and unreadable. “You should probably go back to your room,” he said, voice still far away. You tried not to take that badly. It just seemed random. 

“Okay,” you said quietly. “Are you okay Dalton?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” You nodded slowly. People started to pass you, going back inside. 

“Want me to walk you back up?” “I’m okay,” he assured you, some of the life returning to his voice. 

“Alright…I’ll see you tomorrow?” He nodded quickly and started to walk into the crowd. 

-

The next morning you woke up in a daze. You couldn’t quite remember what happened the night before, all of it glossing over your memory like a blur. You grabbed your phone off the side table, your roommate still snoozing away. You had a text from Dalton and a text from Chris, his old roommate. 

Taking Dalton to that frat party tonight. Wanna come? 

You opened that one up first. Dalton at a frat party? You almost snorted. You hadn’t been back in his life for very long but it didn’t seem like his vibe. You opened Dalton’s text next. 

Sorry about last night. Had a weird dream and woke up weird. 

You texted him back immediately. 

No worries. Are you really going to the frat party tonight? 

Almost immediately a little bubble showed up in the white box. You laid your head back down on the pillow. It felt like you had only taken a nap because of the weird in between moments. A text came from Dalton. 

Supposedly. Chris wants me to go. Do you wanna come? 

You glanced at your calendar. 

I have a test in the morning, I think I’ll pass. Thanks for the invite tho :) Try not to get too drunk! 

You opened Chris’s texts back up too to answer her as well. As you were typing out your response, Dalton texted you again. 

Are you sure??? I could get lost, drunk and suggestive. Who would protect me from the onslaught of potential girls? 

You rolled your eyes harder. 

Chris will! 

You turned off your phone to get ready for the day. 

-

You sat on your bed in your dorm room. Your eyes were dropping off to sleep, phone down on your comforter, computer open as you looked at reference pictures. Your sketch book was open, though it didn’t have anything except the bare bones of some sort of idea. You hummed to the music coming from your phone, mind wandering from your work. 

Your roommate had gone to the same frat party as Dalton. You were by yourself tonight as the sun dropped. It was becoming more clear that you just wanted to go to sleep tonight to wake up rested for the test. You picked up your phone, pursing your lips as you tried to decide if giving up homework was worth it for the night. You had no new texts from Dalton or Chris except a picture from Chris’s phone of the two of them there. You smiled a bit. Dalton looked awkward and out of place. It was good that he was branching out. 

Finally you set your things aside. There was no use in trying to do any more work when you were still catching up on sleep from the night before. 

As you placed your head on the pillow a simultaneous pierce through your skull erupted. You grabbed your head at the familiar feeling. Usually you only got visions when you were asleep, waking up to some sort of horrific memory. 

A bathroom. It felt cold, like ice, like the ground hadn’t been stepped on by humans in years. A boy was there, his face shrouded by the toilet. He gripped the sides but his hands didn’t look real. Something was wrong with him. You couldn’t tell what it was. The sound of the door opening, a creek, a sudden stop. 

You dug your nails into the skin on your forehead, willing it to stop. It had been so long since you were awake when this happened. 

Before it subsided you could see Dalton in the doorway. The dread returned, the same dread you had when you were a kid and he was moving away where you couldn’t protect him. You let out a breath that you had been holding. Your hands were shaking. 

Usually you wrote down what you saw, quickly jotting down things you could remember. Typically nothing would stand out for you to take immediate action. This time you jumped out of bed, quickly putting on slip on shoes. You were wearing shorts and a hoodie, clothes to sleep in, when you ran down the stairs. You had never been to the frat the party was at tonight but there were still fliers everywhere and you assured yourself you would find one. 

Thankfully, right on the pole outside of the building was a green poster with the address. You knew where Greek Row was, not more than a five minute walk from your dorm. You turned towards it and started to run. 

By the time you got there you were already exhausted. You crashed through the door, entering a chaotic scene. There were people everywhere, ramming into each other, sloshing drinks on people’s clothes, too drunk to care. You scanned the crowd. You pushed through people, to the staircase. There were people hanging out there, leaning against the railing, leaning against each other. You walked upstairs, searching for a bathroom. The doors were mostly locked. 

You ran right into Chris, leaving the bathroom. You peeked inside but it wasn’t the one from your vision. 

“Woah! You decided to come after all! What are you wearing?” 

“Where’s Dalton?” She gestured to a door down the hall. You rushed towards it, almost tripping over yourself. You swung the door open. Dalton was on the ground, half under the bed, face filled with fear. “Dalton!” He snapped his head back up at you and then back in the air. There was nothing there. “Did you..did you see that?” 

“No.” 

“There was something-” You fell to your knees beside him, helping him out from under the bed. 

“What did you see?” 

“A kid in the bathroom. There was someone in the bathroom and he was-”

“Dead.” Chris emerged at the door frame. 

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Have you been astral projecting lately?” you asked him, voice low and serious. His eyebrows furrowed. 

“Have I been what?” You stared at him for a long time, unsure what he meant. Maybe he just didn’t want to say anything in front of Chris. 

“Dalton come on.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said and he felt honest. He grabbed your hand, willing you to believe him.

“When we were kids you could walk around in your sleep. Your soul left your body or whatever.” You paused, trying to read his face. “You don’t remember?” 

‘No,” he said, honestly. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Chris repeated. 

“We should go,” you said quickly. “We’ll talk back at the dorms.” You helped Dalton up. 

-

Though she protested, Chris left the two of you alone in Dalton’s dorm. The explanations coming out of his mouth weren’t something she trusted and she trusted you to make sure he went to bed alright. Though she did feel bad for dragging him along, unsure if the drinking had something to do with his abnormal reaction. 

“We have to call your parents,” you said as he sat down at his desk. He shook his head. 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes you can. They know what happened here and why you don’t remember it.” You hadn’t known everything about Dalton being in a coma but you didn’t expect him to remember nothing of it completely. He detailed not even remembering being sick. They moved into the new house and then the rest of the year was nothing but a blur. 

“I wouldn’t believe you if I hadn’t just seen it,” he breathed. You grabbed his phone off the table, opening it up. “Wait-” 

“No wait. We have to call your mom. She’ll know what to do.” 

“But this could just be something completely normal. You said I could do it before I went into my coma.” 

“And then you went too far, Dalton. I don’t actually know how far too far is but I know you’re already too close to it.” You held up the phone for him. “Call her.” He looked at you, eyebrows knitted. He looked at the canvas at his desk, completely covered in black, a red door created at the edges. There was something at that door he couldn’t remember anymore. He set his jaw and grabbed his phone. 

“I don’t think this is gonna help.” 

“Put it on speaker.” 

The phone rang for a moment but no longer than that. Renai answered quickly. 

“Hello? Dalton?” 

“Hey mom.” 

“It’s nice of you to call,” she said, half jokingly. “How are things there? Are you settling in nicely?” 

“Yeah mom, that’s not really why I called.” He gave you a look as you sat beside him eagerly. “I’ve been having these dreams and Y/N said you might know something about that.” 

The line was silent for a moment. 

“What kind of dreams?” 

“I can see my body when I leave it. Like I’m walking around in this other world.” 

“Is Y/N there?”

“Right here Mrs. Lambert.” She paused again. The tension seeped from the phone. You met Dalton’s eyes. 

“Mom?” 

“Maybe I should just come up there and talk to you in person. Can Y/N stay with you until I get there?” 

“What? Mom, you don’t need to come all the way up here.” Shuffling came from the other line.

“It’s too hard to explain over the phone. I’ll be there in the morning.” 

“No, mom.” He took a deep breath. “What happened? Tell me now.” His hands were wrapped tightly around the phone. He had grabbed your hand. You couldn’t remember when. 

“You and your father don’t know,” she said quietly. “We made it so that those memories were suppressed. I don’t know how it came back.” She shuddered. “When you were in the coma you went somewhere Dalton. For three months, we lost you.” 

“Where?” 

“A place called The Further.” Her voice was gravely serious. He stared at the ground. The name sent shivers down his spine, like all that repressed childhood fear came back. “You got lost there and things tried to take your body. Your dad went back to find you and…something else came back instead of him.” Dalton looked at the door painting on his desk. 

“How do I stop it?” 

“I don’t know honey. I’m coming down.”

“What about dad? What if he’s going through this too?” 

“I’ll get your father. We’ll come together.” Dalton had nothing to say to that. It must be serious if they were going to stay together for a long period of time like the drive up to school. “Stay with Y/N.” There was a beat. “I love you Dalton.” 

“I love you too mom.” 

She hung up the phone. For a long time you just sat there in silence. You hadn’t ever gotten those answers before, the ones you had only gotten glimpses of when you were a kid trying to sleep. 

“I remember the demon trying to get you,” you whispered. “He was dark…with red,” you said. “I had nightmares about him for months. I kept seeing him get closer and closer but no one believed me.” 

Dalton looked over at you, his look unreadable. 

“He’s trying to get me again,” Dalton muttered. “I can feel him.” 

You shook your head. That was the last thing you wanted to hear. You stood up, letting go of his hand. 

“This is bigger than us. There’s this whole other world and you’re going to it and it’s so close-” 

“But if I don’t go to it then-”

“Are you gonna stay awake? Forever?” Dalton shut his mouth. “Repressing the ability didn’t work so what else is there to do but enter the place?” You shivered. Just the memory of your visions sent chills down your spine. “I haven’t seen the demon recently. I’ve just seen you.” 

“Maybe that’s a good thing.” You nodded. You paced, unsure what to do with all the fear in your body. “We just have to wait till the morning, then my mom will be here.” You both knew that might not solve anything. Still, you nodded. There was nothing else to do but wait.

 “I’m staying here with you.” 

“I don’t wanna be alone anyway.” He shook his head, voice far away. This dorm had started to become a safe haven, despite the places your brain went when you were asleep. It felt much better than your own dorm with the roommate you hardly knew. You’d likely be getting a text from her in the morning, wondering where you were again. 

You sat back down on Dalton’s bed. 

“Are we gonna try and stay awake all night?” He shook his head. 

“If I wake up I’ll just stay right where I am.” 

“That sounds easier than it will be.” It was already late, nearly midnight. You were tired and your heart was starting to slow down now that the problem didn’t seem as pressing. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes but it didn’t do much.

“Are you ready to sleep now?” he asked. You nodded. 

“I really thought I was gonna go to bed early tonight. Looks like I’ll be skipping the test in the morning.”

“I don’t want you to do that. I’ll be fine by myself.” You shook your head. 

“No way. I’m staying here until your parents show.” You yawned. “But I should probably go to sleep soon.” He glanced at the bed on the other side of the room. He knew you would go there automatically if he didn’t say otherwise. He couldn’t exactly explain it but he would just feel safer if you were closer to him. 

He could explain it but suddenly that feeling was scarier then wandering off into The Further. 

“I’ll take that b-”

“You could sleep with me.” You raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. Without so much as a beat you answered. 

“Okay.” He let out a breath. You got up. “Scoot over then.” He looked up at you and your willingness to be so close to him.

“I’ve gotta change.” 

“Then change.” He stood up, walking to his drawer. He shuffled around in there for something acceptable to wear. Usually he just wore his boxers and a shirt but suddenly that felt so revealing. He could see you in the corner of his eye, getting under the covers and getting comfortable. 

You tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal to you that he asked even though your heart was in your throat. 

“Don’t look,” he said. You made a dramatic gesture of covering your eyes. He took his shirt, facing away from you. You peaked between your fingers, admiring his back as he quickly slipped the other shirt back on. When he undid his belt you covered your eyes again. 

“You can stay awake,” you offered. He turned off the lamp on the desk, leaving only the nightlight. He moved the blankets aside so he could sit beside you. 

“I’m exhausted from finding out my memory was erased.”

“It sounds so dramatic that way.” 

“What would you say?”

“Hypnotism.” He put his head against the pillow, facing you. It was rare you were at eye level. 

“That’s dramatic too.” 

You sat there in silence for a moment. You hadn’t seen his face so close to you since you were kids. It was just like the sleepovers you had when you were a kid, just a little less innocent. 

“Are you scared to fall asleep?” he asked, voice a whisper now.

“Sometimes. Tonight I am. I don’t wanna dream about you.” He should be feeling awkward, being so close to you. Instead he felt more comfortable than ever. 

“Then don’t.” 

“I’ll give it my best effort.” Your eyes were so heavy. They closed without you even thinking about it. 

“I’m gonna be awake a little longer. I think I’m gonna sketch.” 

“Okay Dalton,” you whispered and it sounded so incredibly childlike. He sat up a bit, leaning against the headboard. He grabbed his sketchpad off the table. You nuzzled your head into the pillow. “Do you mind if I use you as a pillow?” you asked quietly. 

“No. Not at all.” 

You moved forward a bit and then your head was on his lower chest, arm over him. He put his hand over your back and suddenly sketching seemed much less important than making you comfortable. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”

-

Neither of you had set an alarm. 

Renai and Josh showed up early at 7 the next morning, the sun still slowly coming up. Renai knocked on the door, antsy to see her son. She had explained everything to Josh on the way over. He was pleased to find he wasn’t crazy. 

The knock went unanswered. She took a deep breath and knocked again. 

“You don’t think it’s unlocked do you?” she questioned. Josh tried the doorknob. It opened with ease. They shared a look. 

The other bed was still unused. Laying in the other bed was you and Dalton. You were on his chest, a pencil lazily in his fingers. He was hugging you with both arms, cheek pressed against your head. 

Renai couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. 

“They’re okay,” she whispered. Josh nodded. He wanted to smile at the sight. It felt right. 

“Should we wait for them to wake up?” 

Renai couldn’t help but feel unhappy when Dalton slept. Even years later, whenever he slept in, she was checking on him constantly. 

“They’ll understand.” She approached him, sitting at the edge and nudging his shoulder. He groaned. He was okay. He was there. You nosed your face further into his chest. 

Neither of you had any nightmares that night. Your sleep was as black as it should be, consumed by each other's arms.

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 3

Propaganda Under Cut

Allura

Lots of people (myself included tbh) ship klance (Keith and Lance). In s8 the creators made Allura/Lance canon (but then they killed her off and left the ending ambiguous it was weird). Anyway the fandom treats her like she's the most terrible bitchy woman ever but all she wants to do is end the war and avenge her destroyed home planet. Yeah she wasn't always the nicest or always the best, but you could argue some other characters in the show aren't either and they aren't treated near as bad as allura. people really just hate her bc Lance liked her. I don't think allura/lance are good together, but I still liked her as a character and thought she was interesting and had a lot of growth during the show. she DEF is not evil like some people portray her as in fic or talk about her in captions on posts. I've seen people say that they HATE her and that she's the worst and I'm like ??? let her live (well sort of ig she is dead now). lots of fic writers use her as the villain which is so interesting to me bc the show literally has villains like use them. anyway allura so perfectly fits the bracket description she deserves better.

I hate to acknowledge my time in this fandom but I hate the way the fandom treated her more. Allura was treated like shit no matter what side of the Great Ship War you were on because she was always a threat to the biggest ships (klance and sheith). At best she got put into Background Lesbian or Consolation Prize Shallura (Space Mom-zoned) (She was not a motherly figure btw. She was just Black). At worst she was violently demonized for being ~racist~ (kinda not cool with the alien race that blew up her planet for a few episodes), complete with misogynistic language hurled at her (she got called a bitch sooo much). Allura was a good and cool character and the show did her dirty but the fandom was somehow worse.

i apologise for speaking the dark magicks, but amidst the voltron fandoms many, many transgressions, there were a particular subset of people who just hated this girl. the infamous klance wars of the 2010s kept this perfectly fine childrens cartoon character in the sights of shippers everywhere, and she (and her voice actress im sure) were subjected to years of petty squabble blown up to global perportions. ive seen hate, ive seen rants, ive seen fanfics that made her homophobic. girls been through the ringer, and even though voltron was never the show its fandom wanted it to be, i believe allura deserved better

Every Supernatural Woman

Supernatural is so mean to women and committed to queerbaiting but it still gives Sam and Dean lovers to kill. The writers kill and villainize them and the fans get the few that remain

wincest and destiel shippers cannot handle the idea of their blorbos having a Woman THREATENING their SHIPS god FORBID

It literally used to be a running joke that if a female character got introduced you knew she was going to die soon because fans would react so negatively to her "stealing" one of the boys away from the big ship, whether it be destiel or wincest

[staenless]

STEDDIE LUNCHBOX FIC PART THREE

It was a week be

Sorry this took so long Ive been busy with beauty school and struggling with motivation tbh lol. Looking back at the previous two parts this needs a LOT of editing but honestly I don't think I can rn so you'll all have to suffer through unedited chapters for now, sorry! Anyway I'm very tired rn so I won't hold up with authors notes anymore, I hope you all enjoy this and please share your thoughts (they fueled this chapter tbh)

It was a week before Tommy passed his lunch on again. Eddie sat in his cubicle nose flaring at lunchtime everyday, a pavlovian response to the clunk-tick of the bento box popping open. He could smell meats, vegetables and fruits, cheesy pastas and salt-buttered rolls. Under it all he could smell that sugar sweet ginger and floral scent, Steve.

Eddie's own lunches were rare, and when he did lower himself to eat at the company café he always found it wanting. Nothing quite matched up to a meal made painstakingly by hand. He wondered if this was part of Tommy's cruel mockery, to hand him something he was unworthy of to let him taste heaven, then snatch it away and leave him stranded in a world of bland flavorless slop.

That wasn't to say the café food was bad. In actuality it was surprisingly good. The young woman who ran it had been part of a government program to teach underserved highschoolers skills, and her meals were wholesome and tasty. She had baked a cake for the company holiday party, and when she say Eddie savouring the bites she confided her secret: a third of the flour was substituted with corn flour to give it a texture. It was the best homemade cake Eddie had ever eaten, though he had very little to compare it to.

So no, the food at the café, the bar and the grocery store and - godforbid - Eddie's own kitchen wasnt bad. It was of a higher standard he was used to, and it was filling and tasty, and he ate what he liked instead of what his guardians decided he should eat. But none of it had the taste of Steve's hands on it, and so none of it could ever compare. He mindlessly shoved forkful after forkful into his mouth, chewed and chocked it all down. He missed Steve's food, after only tasting it once.

The day Tommy decided to grace Eddie's desk with the tin lunchbox again hadn't started out special. In fact as the clock slowly ticked into the luncheon hours Eddie had long resigned himself another cafe meal when Tommy's cackled echoed across the floor.

"Nah, he's going into heat soon so he's been extra bitchy... I've had to pull late night's just to get some damn peace"

Eddie's hackles rose. Omegas in preheat needed stability, reassurance. Spending hours away would just make their preheat anxiety worse, something Tommy was either too stupid to realise or too cruel to care.

"Aw c'mon man," one of the stuffy suited alphas beside him gave Tommy a heart shoulder clap, "heat is the whole point of marrying an omega, right? Man what I'd do to get to fuck one, is it true they can't think of anything other than cock?"

Tommy's low chuckling makes Eddie grit his teeth,that was basically conformation. He's out here discussing his omegas private, vulnerable moments like it's water cooler gossip. Barely containing a growl Eddie peaks over the cubicle and finally spots the group by the - oh for fucks sake - gathered around an honest to God watercooler.

"Yeah the fucking is great, he always bitches about wearing a collar but once he's in the heat of it," smattered giggles, "he forgets aaaalllll about it. Almost makes the week before worth it. Almost." The last line sounds almost spiteful, but his cronies don't seem to take note.

"How'd you even bag him? I mean sure omegas aren't that rare but I hardly see any that aren't mated, especially a nice tame one that'd pack me lunch."

Something in the air turns sour, and when Eddie peaks over again in a bizaar mimic of an old whack-a-mole game, he can see Tommys face twist and turn in on itself. He seems torn between frustration and pride, like a dog showing off its gold plated collar.

"It was a family thing," he says, the vague answer telling just enough for his buddies to drop it while still answering their question. He glances down at the lunch box in his hand and his upper lip twitches in disgust, then his eyes rove over the office cubicles before locking onto Eddie. Shit, too late to duck down, and Tommy marches over, smarmy smile stretching over his too-white too-straight teeth.

"Munson!" THWACK. Ow. "You not having lunch?" Tommy leans down, weight on Eddie's shoulder where his fingers dig in just enough to make Eddie want to bite him. But the possibility of getting his paws on that lunch box, on Steve scented food, outweighs his instinct to fight the alpha trying to impose himself.

"Shit man," his grin is all teeth, "I hadn't even noticed the time! Guess I'll have to run down to the cafe and pick something up, huh?" It's fake. It's so fake and they both know this conversation is just a formality, the conclusion already known.

"I'll save you the trouble," Tommy should have persued an acting career, the script sounds so natural as he straightens up and clacks the lunch box onto Eddie's desk, "I'm heading out to lunch with the boys, you'd be doing me a favour." The last part doesn't sound like a lie, and if Eddie wasn't so desperate for the lunch he'd wonder why Tommy was so desperate to get rid of it.

"Thanks man," he spits out to Tommys retreating form. He mutters something - likely demeaning - to his cronies who titter, then leave together like a pack of cackling hyenas.

Eddie launches from his desk and flies to the rooftop, lunchbox clutched desperately in his hands, cigarettes forgotten. Once he reaches his usual spot his pops the lid, thrumming with excitement at the sight of another note. Ignoring the food over the sweet omegas words he plucks the folded yellow paper and gingerly unfolds it.

"please come home early"

His heart plummets. Right. Steve is in preheat, he obviously wants his alpha. But Tommy said he was avoiding Steve, and now the note confirms that. Please come home early, but no "I miss you" . No "love Steve". It seemed impersonal, something like an order, or begging, but without the hope either of those entail. He recalled Tommys other statement. It was a family thing.

Eddie was familiar, though distantly, with the idea. Arranged marriages were hardly a thing anymore. The star charts, the burnt herbs and entrails spread out beneath a crones trembling hands was far too gouche for modern metropolitans. The payments in silk and bovine too backwards and simple for their forward thinking ways.

Marriages were a more democratic affair for the rich and wealthy, planned out in wood panelled offices with huffing cigar breaths, Alpha to Alpha, the prospects of mergers and inheritance trumping starsigns and blood types. Arranged marriages was for backwards, superstitious folk, agreements were for the rich to keep the money in arms reach. Steve and Tommy were an agreement.

And by the looks of if; no mating bite, avoidance during preheat and the tone Tommy musters when discussing his spouse? Not a particularly blissful agreement. Still. Please come home early, Steve must find some comfort in Tommy's general existence if he wants him around over a trusted family member or close friend. Or pup. Tommy never mentioned a pup, but whether that was because he didn't have one or didn't care much to talk about it was somewhat up in the air.

Eddie brought the note to his lips, just toughing, and breathed deep. The ginger of Steve's scent was less sweet now, his preheat brining out the spice. Something like pepper ticked the back of his nose, pulled the air from his lungs and a final floral smell brought him back in, the sweet aftertaste of a spicy treat. The flowers smelt fresh, Eddie could recall the lily's at his mother's grave smelling the same. Somewhere in his mind he knew that comparison should scare him, but the memory of her grave after the funeral had always been rose tinted by Wayne's kind smile when he took his hand and gently lead him away. Eddie pulled the note away and his lips twitched up, that floral after taste was definitely lily's.

Eddie spared the food a glance, and as delicious as it look, he had something else on his mind. He looked down at the note in his hands, his hind brain sparking to attention at the scent of the omega, and the idea of him home alone in preheat. Eddie wanted to comfort him, to sooth his nerves and let him know he was safe and loved. He wanted to pace the door in front of their den, while Steve nested inside, to protect him from any intruders and serve him. To hold his hand, his waist, to pillow his head on Steve's chest and listen to his heart beat and bathe in his scent.

He couldn't. Steve was married, as much as Eddie's hind brain shouted "not mated" and Steve didn't even know Eddie, let alone allow the alpha into his nest. But Eddie couldn't help it as he pressed the note to his wrists and neck, mind whirling with ideas on how to comfort the omega. Somewhere between kissing Steves fingertips through fruit and the ginger of his scent burning Eddie's nose, the alphas heart had already pledged itself to the omega, already bared itself - pledged itself to his service. If all Eddie could offer was comfort, crossing lines of proprietary was no hurdle.

Taglist: @xxbottlecapx @goodolefashionedloverboi @stevesbipanic @monsterloverforhire @swimmingbirdrunningrock @samsoble @bookworm0690 @tinyplanet95 @idontwantmetoo @steddiehasmywholeheart @mugloversonly @persnicketysquares @morgannotlefay @lololol-1234 @greeniebean911

[oceanwithouthermoon]

Talking about Saiki and SA here a bit, btw, just a warning~

Thinking about how you said Saiki was a victim of SA and you’re literally so right. I feel like people sometimes just blow right past the fact that Kusuke is like that with his brother, but I think it can add a lot to interpretations of his character. But even if it only goes as far as what is shown in canon — which I almost doubt — it still remains the fact that Kusuke is doing all of that knowing fully well that his brother can hear him. It’s literally sexual harassment.

People point it out more often with Teruhashi and her brother (back to the reasons you said, people think it’s more serious if it happens to women). But the things he does, that’s all sexual harassment. And yet when Kusuke does similar things, it’s often brushed aside. Just,,, a bit crazy to me.

(And that’s not even mentioning when people completely disregard this part of Teruhashi’s story and act like she’s one-dimensional,,, but that’s another story)

But all this to say you’re literally so right. Anyways love you mwah =^•w•^=

THANK YOU SO MUCH. I NEEDD PEOPLE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THIS MORE.

(heed the sa warning + abuse and incest warning before opening, i talk a LOT here.. im mostly just reiterating what happens directly in the manga though.. ALSO EXTREMELY LONG POST WARNING..)

I always viewed kokomi and makoto + kusuo and kusuke as like.. paralleling each other ? not sure if thats the right word, but IMMEDIATELY when i saw both of these dynamics i made the connection.. i guess since it was so clear to me, i assumed that it was so obvious and on purpose that everyone else knew too, but so many people just.. ignore it..

i think most people that read/watch saiki k have recognized the fact that most main characters are meant to parallel or relate to saiki in at least some way, (if anyone who doesnt know what im talking about is reading this, im sure at least someone on here has done a better breakdown on that, i just.. dont know where to find that..) but this particular connection is one i dont see often and i genuinely believe that its almost entirely because of the whole "sexual assault/harassment isnt as serious when it happens to men as when it happens to women" thing.. most of the fandom acknowledge that what makoto does is awful and kokomi is a victim, so why is it different when its kusuke and kusuo ??

its EXACTLY the same.. what we see on screen with the saikis is WORSE, actually.. and what WE see from these two relationships isnt the full extent of what the two victims experience off screen, and i strongly believe that its heavily implied that both kokomi and kusuo have been through much worse with their brothers than whats shown..

we have no idea what kusuke couldve done BEFORE moving away and creating the telepathy canceler (and dont say that he couldnt have done anything cuz they were kids, cocsa [child on child sa] is still a thing and still valid, ESPECIALLY since they were both kid geniuses and kusuke definitely KNEW better.. but yea, kusuo implies that hes been like that for a long time, way before we ever saw them, sooo..) and its highly likely that whatever happened that we didnt see, before or after the move, was WORSE than what he does ON screen (i honestly dont want to think about what a guy with an incestual obsession with his brother does with cameras everywhere in his brothers home..) and what we see him do is already insane..

literally using his brother to get off, manipulating him and forcing him to play the games that give him sexual pleasure.. actually, speaking of, ive seen some people say that what kusuke does isnt really incest because the only reason he uses kusuo is because hes a masochist and kusuo is the only person that can overpower him.. this is a total misfire LOL, his upbringing alongside kusuo and his relationship with him is the REASON that hes a masochist, the ENTIRE REASON why thats what he gets off to.. its not just CONVENIENT that kusuo is there to get him off, he SPECIFICALLY seeks kusuo out and forces him to do things that give him sexual pleasure.. he believes that kusuo is the only person in the world that can ever give him sexual pleasure, what about that doesnt sound incestuous?

and one of the worst parts of it is, kusuo BARELY acknowledges how weird it is.. in fact, he's COMPLACENT in a lot of the games, obedient even, being bribed into them the same way he does with simple things like bringing kuniharu to work.. this is the biggest reason why i believe the off-screen stuff is probably worse, because kusuo is obviously conditioned to think that letting your brother get off to you is just.. fine.. we hardly see him try to get away from this situation beyond simply calling him gross.. theres one moment during the cat tank situation where kusuke tries to get him to grab the limiter off of his crotch specifically so that he can see him in that position and kusuo looks terrified and cant do it, BUT its unclear whether the expression of fear was entirely his concentration because he didnt wanna break the limiter or because he didnt want to let his brother get off to that, and i think its mostly the former ? idk, i dont remember this part that well but im preeeetty sure..

he does acknowledge that MAKOTOS behavior is bad when he sees it, but he never thinks its a big enough deal that he needs to help her or anything, (except for maybe the okinawa situation) which i know is probably just for the sake of not letting the gag manga get too serious, BUT it can also be explained pretty easily by this whole thing.. the way kokomi is treated is literally the same way kusuo lives his life, even down to their incestuous brother being possessive to the point of berating their potential love interests.. (which in this case happened to be each other, kusuo and kokomi..)

so yeah, kusuo just. doesnt really know how bad it actually is ? or maybe he does, but doesnt acknowledge it because he doesnt WANT to.. him barely acknowledging it and being complacent is part of why some people dont really get that its sa and incest, but his complacency obviously plays a big part in how its effected him too, like thats purposeful.. like i said, hes been CONDITIONED not to acknowledge it..

to me, it looks like a classic situation in which kusuo doesn't acknowledge his trauma because he knows that if he did, it would change his outlook on his life, his family, and his childhood FOREVER. he would never be willing to tell anyone or ask for help on his own accord, and accepting that there was anything wrong in the first place means, to him, dealing with that issue by himself for the rest of his life.

why would he ever admit that anything was wrong if nothing would change either way? the only thing that WOULD change is HIM, and why would he want that? isnt it better to be blissfully unaware than to knowingly suffer in silence?

plus, he genuinely does love his brother and knows in the back of his mind that kusukes feelings toward him comes from their unhealthy upbringing and relationship and its more complex than just "hes an evil guy blah blah.." because he isnt really evil and kusuo KNOWS that.. actually, he might be the only person in the world who COULD understand..

so yeahhhh.. kokomi and kusuo are both CANONICALLY victims of sexual harassment.. (and incestual abuse at that..) and, by my interpretation, implied victims of sa as well !! (im not really sure where the line can be when it comes to this sometimes, like when your brother sniffs your bedsheets and rubs himself on them or gets off to you right in front of your face or tries to get you to grab something positioned over his crotch so he can see you in.. THAT position.. but i already said that its pretty likely that both brothers have gone farther than that off-screen..)

anywayyyy.. this is so important to me and i wish people would talk and write about it more instead of pretending it never happened and mischaracterizing every one of these characters, especially for the sake of a ship like i was talking about in my other post.. it sucks that people so often just cast kusuos canon issues aside..

[mueritos]

heyy, do you have any advice on not getting scared when doing t injections? I did my 15th one today and every time I do it i just get more scared idk why. im not scared of the pain or fucking up my anxiety just spikes everytime im about to do it :[ the moment the needle breaks through the skin its fine though. (also you are a very big inspirstion to me and I love your style and also thank you for posting about hrt, I learned a lot ^_^)

hello friend! thank you for trusting me with this question. i can say a few things that come to mind. one is that with time, you build your confidence with injections, and eventually you might find specific sites that work better for you. For example, I spent my first yr on t injecting into my thighs, but i found that it made my anxiety worse and I had many bad shots, including hematomas, that developed. Instead, I now primarily do all of my shots into my glute muscle, and I find it is far less painful. while it is more difficult to inject, i find that the ways I twist my body distract me from any pain.

Secondly, I would like to say that with time you will get less anxious about your shots. it took me several years to build confidence and to no longer be so afraid. I used to be near-fainting every time i did my shot (and ive never fainted before t shots) and would poke myself 5 or 6 times trying to find an injection shot! Now, five years later, i can confidently inject with little anxiety. However, it doesn't go away completely, it just is not always present. Some shots are more difficult than others, and that's okay! Recognize that there's no singular point in which you stop being scared of shot, and its in fact a biological response to having to hurt yourself!

Some tips: schedule your shot with plenty of time. If it's shot day but you woke up late and usually do it before class or work, just save it for later! Being a few hours or a day or two late on your shot isn't going to ruin your journey. Build a routine with your shot, like implementing a treat afterward or playing a song that keeps you happy/calm. Another tip is to train a friend on how to give you shots! I've had my twin give me some shots when I was particularly anxious, and this can give you time to regulate before your next shot. If you're not comfortable with a friend giving you a shot, see if you feel better having a friend with you during shots! This can be on the phone or in person, as I find talking to someone while doing a shot distracts me from what makes me anxious.

And the final tip: if shots bring up debilitating anxiety, consider switching injection site, im to subq, or switch to a different form of t! there's nothing wrong with switching to gel if shots don't work for you ^-^

hope that all helped! if anyone else has any tips, leave them in the notes!