#kind of not really but whatever

[voltstone]

scav·eng·er | TWDG Retelling | 1

"But we don't eat monsters." "Yeah, but if we could, we probably would..."

At least, that's what Clementine tells him. Because AJ doesn't need to know how warm the fresh ones are on the tongue, nor how decayed flesh claws on the way down.

[The times she scavenged, the times her secret was caught, and the one bite that started it all.]

— — —

Basically I took my creative liberties and ran with them. Head-first. Into…whatever this is. (Based off of the most out of pocket dialogue prompt, which this post is about.) I will blast through all the seasons, so. A full retelling! :D With cannibalism! And gore! And Clementine is not a-okay!! >:D

However, I did decide that I will have to break it apart for pacing, and stuff. But I will post the story in-full as well if people want to read it that way when I'm 100% done. This is the first part of…I dunno yet. But each part will effectively go through each season, or however I think to do it.

Now this is mature, and I did tag it dead dove. Because. Cannibalism, technically. And like. Violence. And stuff. But genuinely though, it is written to be unhinged. Lol.

Anyway. Hope you enjoy!

:)

AO3 | FF | Wattpad

THE BITE

she did not ask for this. it hurts.

[2,721] [Apr.25.2024] — — —

"The first thing that changes, sweetie, is the smell of them."

.

"It will only take a couple hours. They'll all … start smelling sweet, more like a citrus."

.

Clementine whimpers. She holds her hand tightly around her arm, up towards her shoulder where he wrangled the dress. Her throat's raw. She's swirling over the conversations Lee had with her, after her hair was grabbed, and he had to explain why the St. John brother horrified her the way he did. The other one. With shadows around his eyes, and a smile that always twitched around her.

Amongst that, Lee admitted why he killed him the way he did—pitchfork at hand.

He horrified him too.

.

She decides though, as she scrambles away from this man, that it isn't the same.

The man is good with his words, for one, and there's a…sincerity to him. A genuine one, but there's something to his face that Clementine never could've seen through the radio.

He's tall. Gangly.

And in his face, there's something not quite right. It's not the blood—her blood—he wipes from his mouth by a gentle hand. It lies beneath that.

.

Insanity.

.

"It hurts, I know. That's what my daughter said too. And that's what I felt when Tess bit me."

.

This is insanity.

It doesn't matter how well he preens it, this is insanity, and he just… He just—

He. Bit. Clementine.

Didn't look happy about it, and he still doesn't. But he just. He bit her, and hard, like he meant it anyway. He continues look at her like he means it, right with all the ramblings about his family, and how nice they are, and how she'd fit right in. At least, after he gets a proper brush for her. Her hair's quite a bit different from his daughter's.

. "I don't really understand what it is either, or what does it. "I just know…, biting you, you can be a part of my family this way."

.

"You've already met my wife… You can join my daughter in the backseat. You just have to keep quiet, and she won't do anything to you."

.

She doesn't really listen to what he says. There's too much of the day's horror racing through her body.

It's the bafflement, however, that strikes her mute.

Because this man bit her, and it isn't something Clementine can just wrest from herself. It spins and twirls until she feels an unease build, and she's about to vomit, her heart's thrashing beneath her palm…

She can't. She's barely eaten enough to force the urge.

.

It's dark in the bathroom. He's tall. Looming over her. 

And.

And Clementine's been bit. He stares at her as though it means the same as every other bite, yet it doesn't, because he's not dead. 

.

She knows how long his teeth are.

They sank far too deep for any genuine, sincere man in his right mind.

.

"She won't do anything."

.

Clementine hides in the bathtub for the longest while. Ducks right into it, the moment he shuts the door, and she hears him string the handle, then tie it to the closet across from her.

Every now and then, she dozes. Not because she wants to. She's desperate to stay awake. Yet Clementine is small, and she's tired, and there's no fighting this. It's an exhaustion she never could have fathomed. There's strange nightmares she can't quite place, and they rattle her back where her eyes fly open, the ceramic's cold, she doesn't want to sleep. There is nothing to see in them, those nightmares. Just a desolation, and a twisted ache down her throat. She smells gore in them. Can almost feel the blood and bone bathe down her skin, then crack in her hands.

The meat… There's meat.

In her mouth.

And she chews. And Clementine swallows.

.

She doesn't understand.

.

There is one nightmare she sees. It knocks her head into the ceramic tub by the time she wakes again.

.

A farm. Dairy. Except there's only slaughter. There's butcher across tile. The barn's locker rots.

Clementine never ate there. Never the meat. Not a bite.

Lee saved her back then. He did.

.

Lee saved her. He'll save her.

Again, and again.

.

He begins to be what she stirs to.

Her sweat's cold. The world blurs when the tears come.

Before Clementine is lost to nightmare for another time.

.

Then...

She snaps upright. Finds herself clambering from the bathtub and to the door. Her head is a smog, but she… Clementine can hear them both. Her voice rattles from her. She doesn't quite hear what she says— All she knows is Lee. At least, she thinks. Hopes so.

.

A citrus bleeds from the door, and to her nose.

.

It's likely the man's. He is bit, and his eyes are not quite as…human as he tells himself.

He's just…not dead, exactly.

Not truly alive either. His gaunt complexion tells her so, and the weary treble in his voice. Or he's always just been like that. Sickly looking, if not just plain unnerving.

Clementine can't really tell. It's hard to piece together a person like him, amidst the self-hatred. A loathing, if anything.

Because she fell for it. Fell for his words, the promise for her family. Even though…, Clementine knew, in the back of her mind, it's too good to be true. A random voice on the radio, how could he have known her and her parents? And Savannah? And Lee, and Macon, and everything between?

.

Simply put…

That random voice knows, because she told him herself.

Told him everything.

.

The fight for the world's clarity stands no better with her at the door. She sags against the wall. Her arm pangs. The bathroom is…cold, beneath her feet.

Frigid, even, the more the stupid girl's remorse blisters her.

This is what desperation has brought. It opened its mouth for her. His long teeth. And she stared. Looked at this gifted horse in the mouth; discovered a reason to run.

.

"Yeah. I'm not some cannibal, Lee."

.

Lee… So he has come to save her.

She knew he would. Clementine just knew he would.

It's enough to spark urgency. She stands.

.

"Some killer out in the woods. Some v-villain…"

.

That man is a liar, though. Lee is here, but the man is a liar.

Unless…, what he's done really wasn't murder, nor a kidnapping.

.

"I'm just a … dad."

.

Perhaps. Maybe that is right.

.

Still however. Clementine decides then and there to creep from the bathroom.

She makes sure to keep her sleeve down, and her dress over her shoulder. Because she isn't bitten. Not really.

.

The same way that man didn't murder.

.

"Have you ever hurt somebody you care about?" "My wife."

.

Clementine tries the handle first. It twists, yet the string holds it firm.

She almost weeps. Or she does, and her head is too numb to know.

The bathroom is all the more darker, and her exhaustion grows all the more heavy.

.

"I hurt her a long time ago. "In a lot of ways…"

.

Lee sounds… He sounds weaker than he did last night.

Exhaustion slinks from his mouth. It worms the same in her ears—the same as her own. There's a wavering, and then a husk. Like there's not enough life to draw from. And it says something—says a lot, actually—how much stronger the man with his treble is in his words. He's steady. He carries an unruly intention.

And Lee…, he sounds tired. And bleak. Mostly bleak. Doesn't talk much.

Clementine doesn't want to believe the strained breaths cleaving the room is him.

.

"I hurt her so bad."

.

"I hurt her so bad."

.

The man's wife has her head in his bowling bag.

She rolls in it. Smudges the tearstreaks left behind.

.

"I hurt her so bad."

.

Clementine flares the last of her strength. She swallows down the last of the dairy farm as it twitches for another nightmare.

She clasps the handle. Twists it, and tests the string. She doesn't want to get caught. Noise is her bane, and she knows the man has an ear for her.

.

"Do I look like a monster to you?"

.

She has to bide her time. It's daunting.

However, Clementine listens for the moment where he's engrossed, and the man is sunk back into his writhing sanity. He likes to ramble. Did it a lot that day, and he even did it routinely on the radio. On and on and on about his wife, and his kids.

Family.

It's always family with him. Family, and being a father, a husband, and having his nice daughter.

.

"She's already a part of my family now… "There's no reason for you to have come, Lee."

.

"I smell it on you. You're not going to last."

.

There he goes again.

Clementine pulls the door just enough for the string to strain, and for her to untangle its knot. It snaps back for the open closet.

The man talks to his wife again. He stares into his bowling bag, and she knows the wife's head to roll again.

She meets Lee by his eyes. He's… He's missing an arm, and he looks ghastly. Drained too. Yet, he has enough strength to nod for the side-dresser, and when her eyes follow, there glints a cleaver.

.

"Hey, honey. I think this is all going to work out."

.

It's tight in her hand.

The dairy farm ravages to the blood she ignores down its blade. Clementine hears the groaning instead. The wife. Can almost make out the nonsense the man pulls a few words from.

.

"I'm glad too. "I wish you wouldn't have had to get this bad, but it's all over hon. Isn't it?"

.

"I hate seeing you like this. I just miss your smile, honey."

.

Her strides to him are careful. Clementine keeps herself far from his eye, his peripheral. Lee tenses, though in his face, there's a quiet resolution. His eyes dart between the man, then her.

Clementine raises the cleaver. Moonlight darts along the wall when she does. Her hands tremble; the moonlight does too. She can't help it.

.

"I miss you so much, Tess. You're gonna like Clementine a lot, though. She's not Lizzy, but she's sweet. "She wouldn't hurt a fly."

.

Clementine sinks the cleaver deep. Thinks of it as a bite for a bite.

.

The man lunges away from her, and he reaches for the blade plunged into his shoulder.

Lee hurls his weight across the table, and knocks into the man. The fight is blurring. Clementine strafes, feels her heart soar when Lee buckles him into the wall.

Before he curls. The fight is too much for him. The man is strong in his intentions.

His hands are around Lee's neck. The gun is heavy in her hands. She trembles again. Aims. The world is whirling, except for Lee, and for the man, and the bullet she punctures through his crown.

.

She—

Clementine just shot him.

Just shot the man.

He's dead.

.

Bafflement finds her again. Locks her there, in place. Trembling. Air doesn't come easy. Her heart does well to scald her, and it's restless.

It names itself shock, however. She's not inclined to argue.

There's a look in Lee's eyes. Gratitude, but the shock as well. It rattles them both.

.

She cries. He consoles. But air doesn't come easy, nor do the words to her mind.

When he dawns her back her Dad's hat, however… The world doesn't cage her anymore.

It's not as cold.

It's still a desolate shade of moonlight.

.

A walker stands at the door. The citrus is pungent in the room. There were traces before.

With the dead looming in the doorway, however, it swamps her now.

And the gore Lee lathers down her clothes makes it worse. A thousand times worse. Because the citrus is like… It's like the oranges she plucked from at a fieldtrip's orchard. It's sweet. She can't tell if she's about to vomit or not. She sweats. It's cold again. Lee mistakes both for terror. Or, it's that she's the one mistaken, and this isn't anything beyond a break in sanity.

.

Her parents are dead.

They have been.

.

She sees them, when Lee guides her into the dead's orchard.

.

"The first thing that changes, sweetie, is the smell of them."

.

"The second thing…"

.

The second thing… There's a second thing. It rattles somewhere. She can only see the red jacket he held for her. The same she refused before.

The same that… The same that Lee—

Lee's falling.

.

His voice trails after him. He stumbles too, the more she whimpers and pulls at his shoulder. He isn't limp. He is not awake.

But he does move. Her arm throbs, Clementine trips over herself, and Lee is staggering after her. With a haze in his eyes. He shoulders into anything and everything.

The dead don't mind. Not really.

.

They don't mind him. Nor her.

.

Clementine's left to pull him into a store. She finds a string. Reaches for it.

The gate it guides slams to the floor once gravity has its say.

They are alone, her and Lee. Secure. There is no leaving… Which frightens him. More than the St. John brother ever did.

.

Clementine knows he's bit before he says it.

.

It's the sweet citrus.

The same that washes off the walkers, it leaks from Lee in steady waves.

.

It just breaks her heart, knowing that… That he really is a-about to— To die.

.

There's no time to tell him about her bite. She wouldn't have had the heart to regardless, nor the mind.

So she clings to his words. Nods to Lee, when he tells her to keep moving.

.

Lee doesn't have to tell her what to do next. Clementine knows.

So when he runs out of energy, and time, and mind…

She just knows.

.

"I'll miss you."

.

The gun is the heaviest when she raises it to his head.

. . .

SOMETHING WAS VERY WRONG

. . .

There is no fever. She doesn't understand, because it is not a fever, it's this brisk chill across her body, beneath the morning sun.

Maybe it's from lingering beside Lee's body for longer than she should have. Or, it's from stalking in the shadows where the walkers couldn't quite reach.

Yet, no. Those were the quiet lies she told herself, before reality wormed its way the moment she found them. Or, when they found her—none of them can decide. The more they hug her, the more Omid squeezes her shoulder and Christa holds her from her from the weary ground, the more Clementine realizes this for what it is:

The bite.

And it's rough against cotton. Cold too, like the deep inhale before something really, really bad happens, and now her body teems of it, and her head swims to every sharp clap of gunfire. Her eyes too, because the world warbles whenever Clementine passes wherever the sun is strongest.

This is the same cold which agonized her body in the Marsh House. In the bath, then in the room—with Lee's rattled breaths, and the walker splayed beside them both. It's the cold she fought against. Fell asleep to. Would awake to.

It feels like her body has been disturbed. As though…she herself, to her core, hasn't grasped what hit her.

Except that it has a name, and its name is dread.

.

It takes months for the hunger to set in.

[Next] AO3 | FF | Wattpad

— — —

As much as I enjoy writing stories for the sake of catharsis, I do enjoy being unhinged and writing this kind of thing too. Cuz it can be fun. Once you get past the concerning things. Again, I am breaking it up for pacing's sake, so shorter chapters. My little writer gut tells me shorter chapters good, actually. For this. So the TBC will have a link to the next post once I'm done.

Hope you enjoyed so far! :)

[hinamie]

10 years later

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[sunderwight]

Headcanon that Shen Yuan was hotter than Shen Qingqiu, actually.

Like yeah SQQ being a cultivator gave him a boost to enough attributes + being in a stallion novel where everyone is either unrealistic hot or dog's butt ugly got the Shen Qingqiu body extra points, and he wasn't bad looking to begin with. Plus not being ill is vastly more important to the new Shen Qingqiu than those extra hotness points (Without a Cure notwithstanding). But part of the reason why he's kind of like, meh, at least I'm not hideous or anything, is because Shen Yuan's original body was a knock out.

I also like him as chronically ill, and, as many people know, beauty standards and sustained suffering are not as incompatible as they should be. Shen Yuan was conventionally attractive in part because conventional beauty standards seem to want everyone slowly dying all the time. But even setting that aside, the man had flawless bone structure, an appealing figure, captivating eyes, and the kind of voice that stopped people in their tracks.

All of which was a contributing factor to his antisocial lifestyle, actually. Despite the fact that Shen Yuan does enjoy company and requires a certain baseline of social enrichment for his enclosure, his internalized homophobia and closeting did not play well with overtures from interested parties (regardless of gender). The only way to minimize the odds of him being asked out on dates was to essentially become a shut-in, especially since even Shen Yuan can only make so many excuses before he himself starts to notice that he's going to a lot of effort to avoid specifically that avenue of socialization. Far better to just remove himself from any risk of it, and then vocally lament that oh no he's just too much of a nerd to get anywhere with women!

Anyway this largely doesn't matter much outside of sheer comedy potential for any situation where SY gets his old body/life back. Like imagine a reveal scenario where the System is going to transport them back to their old lives.

Shang Qinghua: well bro I guess this is gonna be the ultimate test of love, right?

Shen Yuan: what do you mean?

Shang Qinghua: our husbands are gonna see what we looked like back before we were glorious cultivators! they're going to have to track us down in our mundane, kinda shitty pre-transmigration lives! it's gonna be at least a little embarrassing, right?

Shen Yuan: *gets his old body back*

Shang Qinghua, normal human with average looks: ...

Shen Yuan, exemplary 11/10: ?

Shang Qinghua: what. the fuck?? bro what the fuck why are you hot???

Shen Yuan: don't make it weird

Shang Qinghua: make it weird??? why were you sitting at home reading my shitty novel when you could have been out there building your own harem???

Shen Yuan: stop exaggerating

Shang Qinghua: oh my god you've always been like this. this is it, isn't it? it wasn't even brain damage from the transmigration or something--

Shen Yuan: hey

Shang Qinghua: --you've just always been completely unaware, haven't you? every time I wrote a beautiful woman who didn't know her own appeal you'd be jumping down my throat--

Shen Yuan: because that's a stupid trope--!

Shang Qinghua: --JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT EXACTLY LIKE THAT but this whole time THIS WHOLE TIME it wasn't even a glow-up issue, you've just been that, personified, yourself--

Shen Yuan: look I know I'm not ugly but I'm not I'm hardly that good-looking

Shang Qinghua: YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO CRITICIZE THAT TROPE AGAIN! oh my god. how many broken hearts did you leave behind when you died?!

Shen Yuan: none, I wasn't even seeing anyone--

Shang Qinghua: yeah full offense but I am nottt taking your word for that. I bet you had a harem you didn't know about in this lifetime too. I bet you had a fan club, like an anime prince

Shen Yuan: *mumbling*

Shang Qinghua: what was that?

Shen Yuan: I said... only in high school...

Shang Qinghua: oh my god

Shen Yuan: it wasn't a big deal!

Shang Qinghua: *frantically trying to see if he can find any trace of it on the internet now*

[wishing-well-art]

Hermits in 1.21!

[egophiliac]

Please elaborate on your twst Pokémon headcannons I’m very interested

I had planned on drawing everyone for this (I made a LIST!) but it. hasn't been going well. 💀 soooo here's what I have so far!

Riddle - Roserade (I was going with 'no legendaries', otherwise I would've given him a Shaymin) (and I don't think Togedemaru is actually a hedgehog or I would've given him one of those too) (...they kind of do fit though. hmm.)

Trey - Alcremie (clover/mint cream + strawberry/ruby cream)

Cater - DITTO SQUAD! DITTO SQUAD! DITTO SQUAD!

Ace - Impidimp (I feel like there's probably a better one for him, but I can't think of it)

Deuce - Scraggy (meanwhile I KNOW deep in my heart that this is true)

Leona - Pyroar (but like. a nasty Pyroar. just a grizzly old Pyroar with the shittiest attitude imaginable. they pretend to hate each other but secretly they are a bonded pair, do not separate)

[leol]

logan 2017 movie canon divergent au kinda.. kurt deus ex machina, everybody lives, happy family = profit

[barghest-land]

they're done! a little study of psittacosaurus sibiricus. i really like them and wanted to explore and learn more about their anatomy in the process!

[idolomantises]

I… don’t really see myself continuing with the Amazing Digital Circus anymore.

[antiadvil]

hold on when did the subreddit add this rule lmao

[remxedmoon]

go my hyucker (human gucker)

ssso my good friend pastell @startagainaprologue mentioned it was struggling with making a human design for the guide and i rubbed my hands together evilly and got to work. aaaaa this was super fun to work on!!!!! thankyou again for letting me draw this graaaa. as always my deranged character design ramblings are below the cut 👍

CHARACTER DESIGN BLAST

most of guide’s colors are slightly shifted to be closer to red and more… desaturated? my default bonnie colors clashed with the palette i usually use for guide so they got changed slightly. i did add the blue on the sash as a reference to my nille design however! and i tend to use cooler colors to represent countries outside of vaugarde, so you could interpret it as a link to the island. if you so desire :3

speaking of the sash, just about everything they’re wearing here is based on another character!! in this case, it’s meant to resemble nille’s waist sash! but with a different pattern. something something only having an imitation of what it lost. the stars are meant to represent siffrin and loop, and also just the universe in general. fun stuff!

i mostly just made their shirt longer for the sake of looking Different from normal bonnie? but combined with the sash it has the fun bonus of having a silhouette similar to siffrin’s cloak. not full intentional but hey! i’ll take it!

the gems on its tail are there to represent odile!! as well as referencing the ka buan tradition of compressing ashes into diamonds. you can draw your own conclusions there! and they go ding ding when it walks :3

the hat/halo isss probably self explanatory? it’s a way to fit guide’s Spiky Head into the design. the halo was added pafter pastell drew buns version of the design auau. i like both! so their hat can be whatever shape you please.

okay! nno more talking about clothes i promise. similar to my ghostlight loop design, i gave it spikier hair!! i have to give sponsors spiky hair to resemble their Spiky Heads. it’s the law. their hair was supposed to be shorter but. i’m pretty sure this is the exact same length i usually draw bonnie’s hair. oops? oh well it looks cute. the stars are honestly just there for fun i didn’t have anything specific in mind

in a similar vein, i changed their eye shape to match the eye shape on guide’s ref! perpetually Sad Looking. on the bright side they aren’t constantly crying anymore!

thheir body is. mostly the same? i decided to make their body Red Tinted for the sake of consistency and i removed the separated limbs aaand. that’s basically it? not much to say! i did add the halo bracelet around their wrist as a callback to the separation though. i didn’t do the same for its shoulder because i am Lazy 🩶

aaand i think that’s everything? well it Isn’t but i think everything else is self explanatory and frankly this is long enough as is. here is the """greyscale""" version as compensation 🩶

[vaguely-concerned]

on the one hand I think inner demons could stand to have a bit more romanced rook specific content, but on the other hand the underlying in-built implication that 'yours is the one true voice of comfort and safety in my inner world' is a sentiment and intimacy so way beyond the romantic or the platonic or any secret third thing you could care to name that it makes me lose my entire poor little mind a bit. it's so big and fundamental — near-existential — that in that exact moment at least the distinctions kind of seem irrelevant.

all the people lucanis' mind conjures up along the way are relationships he has that are unavoidably mixed and fraught in some ways even when they're also full of love (they are fraught BECAUSE they're full of love) — the good in them inseparable from things that hurt him at the same time. (it's about: the basic disorganized attachment patterns this poor guy is dragging around with him. careful with those, they're dellamorte heirlooms. what you love also inevitably hurts you and you won't be allowed to have one without the other, you have to surrender parts of your soul to hold on to what little you have left: this is the story up until now.) and the idea that rook isn't that to him — that beneath the fear of wanting them when romanced (which is more its own separate thing because within this psychology, actively wanting something and not just clinging on for dear life to even a meager status quo lest you lose it is in itself dangerous bordering on catastrophic), this is a relationship where there isn't resentment, or guilt, or shame, or dread, or rage, or self-hate, or any of the other emotions that keep him paralyzed, unable to move this way or that. no debts, nothing owed of yourself and your soul's substance except what you can freely and safely and happily give. love and freedom don't coexist — but, I mean, you're almost starting to make me think........... unless...👀👀👀. the unconditional and undramatic 'you are here and I am here with you, you can be exactly how you are right now with me and it's safe for us both even though you're afraid it won't be, I'm not going anywhere' acceptance rook shows him here that he returns to them in the big romance scene, when it's rook who needs it. the way he's just. standing there in the center of it all, like a child desperately helplessly waiting to be found, hiding in the place he hopes you'll know to look first. (rook does know. it's one of the first things they say in there.)

in short the most important room in his little mind palace for the romance is the very first room — the one where rook isn't. where, in fact, rook cannot be, because they disprove the entire structure of the place with their existence and presence in his life. with everyone else he's putting words in their mouths about what they think of him, and rook is the one who actually gets to come in to speak their own words to him — and have him listen. ('he'll listen to you, he always listens to you', 'your voice is a comfort'.) of course rook isn't present anywhere else in there — at the risk of stating the obvious to a tedious degree, they aren't one of the locks, they're bringing the key. in the very finest 'the messenger and the message' sort of way.

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

wow i can't believe they were actually allowed to show gay sex onscreen in 2011

[paladinsbrainrot]

my favourite stranger things duo 💜 (they have interacted Once)

+ close ups !!

[zazagundam]

Hey friends, I hate to ask again, but with missing work due to covid;

for my birthday this year, (June 1st) I would like to ask for, and appreciate, any help with raising what I'd have made while working, is around $400.

any, and every bit of help is appreciated and I'm hoping next year will be better.

vmo: @RubyLovehart csshaap: $rubylovehart pypall: @rubylovehart

rb's help immensely.

[rozugold]

I wanna feel like I’m gonna die any second— I wanna feel calm!