#my dash is just...anons being stupid

[azrahelhasmoved]

if you shit on villian muses and people who write them, please unfollow me. especially since my azrael in a few verses and timeline wise is not a good angel.

[statementlou]

.

[hiramaris]

I'm gonna request something for haley bc i love how you write her and not so obsessed. im not sure if you are writing for request? but im gonna give my shot

a prompt where haley as wife, and the farmer was late passed midnight because of mining shit. and almost died (lmao). she got home safely, but limping with her wounds and bruise. then there's haley, saw her wife barely walking and her reaction, just comfort, fluff, worried and taking care of the farmer.

that's all, thanks, no pressure <3

Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 7

Chapter Summary:

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: violence, blood

Notes:

thanks to anon for being the first-ever reader to request a prompt. I initially thought to make a separate fic for this one but I realized why not make it as a new chapter? There would be some adjustments to the prompt, instead of Haley being the farmer's wife, she'd be somewhere in between a friend and a woman struggling to put a name to what she's feeling with the farmer. I'm really sorry anon for not following the route you're hoping for but I do hope you'll like this one.

Summer 9

The sound of thunder clapping from above her made it difficult for sleep to come that night. Despite the late hour, the darkness outside was illuminated intermittently by flashes of lightning, casting eerie shadows across the walls of her room.

Rain drummed steadily against the glass, a constant reminder of Yoba's fury. The room felt oppressive, suffocating almost, as if the storm had seeped its way indoors, invading her sanctuary.

She had always hated rain. Well, the main reason is it's horrible weather for a dashing photographer like her. Not only does it ruin her hair that she spent all morning fixing, but it could also ruin her equipment. Oh, did she also mention it gives an awful lighting?

She also shares the same level of dislike for storms because they destroy the calmness of rain. It's aggressive, cold, and destructive.

That's why the moment the news announced there would be a storm for the next three days, she was quick to stock every little favorite snack she could think of because there was no way she was waltzing outside in that kind of weather.

Haley popped out a tired eye as she looked at the clock beside her.

1:56 AM.

Oh, joy it's almost two in the morning. How in Yoba's name could she go outside with bags under her eyes probably heavier than all of Emily's hippie gems combined?

'I mean– there's always a concealer,' she thought but quickly dismissed the idea.

She has been minimizing her makeup since... since whatever (when you told her she looked prettier even without them) PLUS with summer's sweltering heat, layering on cosmetics seemed suffocating.

With a groan, she pushed herself up from the bed, determination flashing in her tired eyes as she made her way to the kitchen to get a glass of milk, hoping that this little solution would finally give her the sleep she'd been craving for.

But as she reached for the milk, a cacophony outside shattered the stillness of the night. Haley froze, her heart pounding in her chest. It's kind of hard to tell with the harsh rain and thunder and everything.

As if to confirm that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, a set of audible coughs echoed just behind the door. Haley's heart thumped so loud she was afraid it might come out of her chest.

That could only be an intruder.

In Haley's sleep-deprived mind, she didn't stop to even realize that Pelican Town had never experienced a robbery in the dead of night. Instead, she quickly bolted to her room, grabbing Alex's old baseball bat he had left here one time, not even having the presence of mind to wake up Emily to face this 'intruder' together.

****

Spoiler alert, it wasn't an intruder but an idiotic farmer covered in dirt and unbelievably wet from the rain.

You were holding your rucksack close to your chest for dear life with your sword held tightly by your other hand when Haley found you slumped against the door.

"What the hell are you doing outside at this hour and in this weather?" was the first words she uttered when her eyes spotted you. She was quick to help you up and bring you inside, not even minding the mud and water accumulating from where you stood.

When you didn't respond, Haley met your eyes.

Haley's heart nearly stopped at the sight beyond her. Without being hidden by the darkness, she could finally see your whole state.

There standing is the farmer herself. Your white hoodie was tattered and looked burned. Your hoodie's sleeves are ripped too up to your upper arms, and your left arm has a cut with fresh blood still gushing out of it.

You were missing the other pair of your shoes, and your hair was disheveled and covered with slime. You even had multiple scratches and scrapes all over your body. Your right cheek has some small scratches, and blood is rushing out of the wound on your forehead.

"Yoba..." Haley's voice was barely a whisper as she gently cupped your cheeks, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Her eyes flickered to the gash on your forehead, blood still seeping from the wound. "What happened, Y/n/n? We need to get you to Harvey!"

You shook your head weakly, struggling to stand upright. "No... H-harvey," you protested, your voice strained. "H-he'll kill me."

"Y/n!" Haley's arms enveloped you in a tight embrace as you nearly stumbled over her. She wanted to reprimand you, to demand answers, but the rush of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart against her chest prevented her from doing so.

For now, she needed to make sure you were okay.

You only grunted in response as you gave in to her, allowing her to guide you onto the cushions.

"I'm just gonna get a towel and the first aid." Her lips trembled as she said those words.

In record time, she was able to get everything she thought you'd need, afraid if she missed any more seconds you wouldn't be breathing.

When she returned to the living room, she almost went ballistic when she spotted your form unmoving from your seat.

"Y/n! Wake up, for Yoba's sake! Don't you dare die on—" Haley's words caught in her throat as you rasped out a response.

"...oh, look an angel," you managed with a small grin, your tired eyes fluttering open.

Haley couldn't help but smile softly at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Very funny," she replied, relief flooding through her as she saw you conscious, if only barely.

Wordlessly, she draped a towel over you, tucking it gently to ensure you stayed warm. It was the same blanket she used during storms like this when she felt cold herself.

With a purposeful stride, she made her way to the fireplace, adding more wood to the fire in hopes of warming you further.

"Keep your eyes open, please? I'm just gonna get some rags to clean up your wound," she requested gently.

She placed the first aid kit on the coffee table in front of you before heading to the kitchen to gather clean rags and a sponge.

Returning to the living room, she filled a bowl with tap water and carried it carefully as she made her way back to you.

With great tenderness, Haley cautiously wiped the blood from your body with the sponge, dampening it in the tap water she had prepared. She winced as the color of the water turned red.

"You lost too much blood," Haley commented, masking the shakiness of her voice. She wasn't a great fan of blood but she was not naive with treating minor injuries either. She silently thanked Yoba for letting Emily force her to learn a thing or two about first aid.

You only grunted in response to her observation.

"What happened, Y/n?" She couldn't hide the worry in her voice even if she dared try. "I should call Harvey and get you to the clinic."

You groaned as she accidentally applied too much pressure to your wound. "No... it's okay. It's n-nothing, I'm fine."

"These serious injuries don't shout nothing, Y/n. What the hell happened?"

"'I went to the mine..." you explained, and Haley waited expectantly for you to continue.

"It's storming."

"I know..." You couldn't look at her in the eye. "It's just that there's not much going on in the farm so I thought I should continue my expeditions in the mine. I thought it would be safe but..."

"But it wasn't." Haley couldn't helped but deadpan.

You visibly winced, unsure if it was because of your wounds, Haley's biting remark, or just both. "I heard from Marlon I could find rare items once I reached the hundredth floor, which I did," you explained, tapping your rucksack beside you. "But I should have known better that those items are rare for a reason. Not because they're hard to find, but because they're hard to acquire. Once I got hold of this baby," you gestured to your bag, "the whole cave was swarmed by slimes and shadow people."

"What?" Haley's voice sputtered with disbelief, her brows furrowing in concern. "Shadow people? I thought they were just myths!"

You tried to nod in confirmation, but Haley kept a firm hand on your cheeks, preventing the movement. "Uhuh, they're very real," you affirmed, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "And I can say they aren't really fond of us humans and, uh, dwarves I think. They're more scared of me than intimidating. I tried not to, y'know, hurt them."

"That's a stupid idea."

"I know," you admitted, your gaze dropping to the floor. "But given our history with them, I didn't want to give them any more reason to hate us. Plus, I was the one invading their homes."

Haley let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping with weariness. "Still, you should have fought back. What if they had killed you in there? How would we have known you were down there and rotting? You're the only one crazy enough to go down there anyway."

You didn't speak after that, and Haley mistook that as compliance. She was too busy fuming at your lack of self-preservation to notice the frown creasing on your features.

After managing to cleanse the visible injuries of your body, she began to grab some clean rags to apply some pressure on your forehead and your forearm to keep your bleeding to an absolute minimum.

She cursed softly under her breath, trying to think of what to do next.

"…Y/n? Y/n, wake up, stop sleeping," Haley's voice was quiet, her tone laced with urgency as she gently tapped your cheek.

Your eyes pulled themselves open and looked tiredly at her. "Hn?"

"I need you to sit up straight and pull your hoodie off. What do you have underneath?" Haley's words were gentle but firm as she carefully supported your shoulder and hip.

"…just a tank top."

Slowly, you strained to sit upright, wincing with discomfort. Haley could tell from the way your grip tightened on her wrist that you were not comfortable sitting for very long.

With Haley's assistance, you managed to pull your hoodie off, careful not to aggravate any wounds. Once the clothes were removed, Haley's eyes lingered on the minor cuts just below your chest, blood still seeping from the wounds. She grabbed the sponge again, gently brushing away the blood from your cuts.

After cleansing the wounds, Haley applied alcohol and antibiotics, causing you to grunt in discomfort. No words were exchanged as she skillfully wrapped bandages around your forehead, forearm, and abdomen. She then helped you into warmer clothes she found in her wardrobe, her movements gentle and reassuring.

"How do you feel?" Haley bit her lip, anxious. Honestly speaking, she wasn't confident in her abilities to treat injuries, so she anxiously awaited your response, hoping she hadn't made things worse.

"…I'm alright now," you rasped, your voice hoarse with exhaustion. "…thank you, Hay."

Haley felt a wave of relief wash over her at your words. Your face had regained some color compared to earlier when you looked as pale as a ghost.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she questioned tentatively. "I'll whip you up some tea and soup."

You swallowed gently and nodded your head.

"I'll be back soon then. Rest. I'll wake you when your soup is done."

****

About twenty minutes later, Haley went back into the living room, a tray in her hands. She found you sprawled on the couch (thankfully not moving too much), embracing your rucksack in your arms once again. She wanted to question what was inside and why you couldn't part with it so much but decided to make sure you were okay first.

The things she does for you.

She placed the tray of food on the coffee table and sat beside you, taking in your sleeping form.

"Y/n/n? Food's ready," Haley said softly, tapping your thigh to rouse you from your slumber.

Startled and kind of a forced of habit, you tried to sit up straight. Thankfully, Haley was fast enough to stop you.

"Don't get up. | don't want to wrap your wounds again," Haley admonished, her tone firm.

She grabbed a pillow and propped it behind your back to elevate your head slightly. As she picked up the bowl of chicken soup, she could feel your eyes on her.

"I can feed myself, Haley. Thank you," you finally spoke. Haley's eyes met yours briefly before she averted her gaze, a flicker of emotion passing over her features.

"Clearly, you aren't capable of feeding yourself. Stop being a baby and let me do this."

Your eyes settled on her for probably a full minute before you sighed in resignation. Despite the hardened gaze she probably wore on her face, Haley gently placed a spoonful of soup in your mouth.

"I know you can, Y/n," Haley spoke after a few moments. "But you lost too much blood already, I don't want you to bleed again."

"I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble," you uttered softly.

Haley paused and finally looked at you, like, really looked at you properly this time. Since you had arrived covered in mud and blood, she had been operating on autopilot, with only one mission: ensuring you were okay. It's the only thing running through her mind, leaving no room for anything else. Mainly, she hadn't thought about the impact of her words.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's no trouble. I'm just..." Haley paused, thinking about what words to use without giving away that she cared too much. "I'm just glad that you're okay."

Once you had finished eating, Haley placed the empty bowl down and reached for a damp cloth. Brushing away a stray lock of your hair, she gently wiped away a few drops of blood and dirt, her touch surprisingly gentle. She was so focused on her task that she didn't notice you watching her quietly, your expression softening as she attended to the blemish on your face.

"Haley..." you called softly, breaking the silence. Haley looked down at you, her eyes startled. A small, appreciative smile graced your lips as you continued, "Thank you."

Haley couldn't help but smile in return. Sometimes it's hard to stay mad at you. "You can thank me by resting and making sure this won't happen again."

You chuckled softly as you closed your eyes, resting your head against the pillow once more. "No promises."

Seeing that you were getting sleepy, Haley quickly gathered the empty bowl and cup and placed them in the sink. When she returned, she extended a hand to help you up, much to your confusion.

"Come, let's get you to my room."

"Haley," you protested weakly. "I couldn't possibly impose more than I already have."

"Shut up. I won't let an injured woman sleep on the couch, Y/n."

Despite your protests, Haley managed to convince you to agree with her proposed setup. While Haley wasn't entirely keen on sleeping on the couch herself, it's not like she has a choice on the matter. The cushion is uncomfortable as hell, it's like sitting on a pile of bricks. That's more than enough reason to let you sleep on her bed. Plus, with the mess and worry weighing on her mind, she doubted she'd be able to sleep anyway.

She was about to leave to clean the mess in the living room when she finally sat you down on her bed, but a hand stopped her.

"…have you seen my bag, Hay?"

"Oh, that? Do you want me to get it for you?"

"No, no. Thanks but I can get it myself." You made a move to stand but Haley kept a firm grip on your shoulder.

Haley frowned. "You can't barely even stand. Do you think I'm gonna let you walk by yourself? What's in the bag anyway? I'll get it for you."

"I'm wounded, not disabled–" you tried to say but Haley only raised an eyebrow at you, daring you to finish your sentence. You sighed when you realized that you wouldn't win against her again. "It's... it's a gift."

"For whom?" Haley couldn't help but ask. Who could you possibly want to give a gift that you almost died just to get it?

Was it for Penny? Haley heard she liked gems as well. Or was it Maru? If she could remember correctly, tomorrow's her birthday and she seemed to like everything you can find in caves. This totally makes sense.

But why did her heart clench at the thought? More importantly, how did she even remember all this information when she didn't care about them at all?

Before you could respond, Haley left the room to retrieve your rucksack. She felt like she didn't need to hear the answer to her question.

When she returned, she wordlessly handed the bag to you, prepared to leave the room once more. However, your voice stopped her in her tracks.

"It's for you."

She turned, mouth agape. "What?"

"It's for you." You smiled warmly as you held out a familiar-looking crystalline gem, about the size of a palm, emitting a dazzling array of colors.

Haley's initial surprise quickly turned to dismay as she recognized the mineral. Her frown deepened, and a flicker of discomfort passed through her eyes at the sight of it. She knew what it was, and just the thought of touching it made her feel physically ill.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concerned at her sudden change in demeanor.

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

"I..."

"Keep it," she said with finality. "Good night, Y/n."

With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and stormed off, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in the room as she left.

****

She shouldn't have said that. She knows she shouldn't have but she was just so worried she couldn't control anything else spouting from her foul mouth.

She hated how she caused the light in your eyes to die down. Hated the way you weren't able to say anything else. Hated the way she just couldn't probably express her worries properly.

Now you probably thought she hated your guts.

Which is far from the truth. Kind of the opposite actually but she's far too tired and confused to delve into her feelings further at the moment.

It's true she doesn't share the same passion for gems and rocks as her sister Emily, and people will generally thank someone who will give them a prismatic shard because for one, they are pretty, she's not gonna lie about that. Secondly, they're super rare and by extension, expensive.

Haley just couldn't bring herself to appreciate it in the same way.

She hated them with passion. And she hated people assuming she liked shiny things because of her personality.

While it's true she's kind of materialistic, it was a trait ingrained in her from years of her parents trying to compensate for their absence by showering her with gifts.

She didn't like being materialistic, but she's so used to it that it's hard to stop.

And she hated how you seemed to think the same way about her when you thought about giving her a prismatic shard as a gift. That all she ever was were just pretty and expensive gifts.

And she hated how you let yourself get hurt just to give her this.

She hated everything about this.

****

Haley spent the majority of the night cleaning the living room, hoping to tire herself out enough to dull the heaviness and emptiness in her heart. She didn't know it was possible to feel both at the same time, but there she was, experiencing it firsthand, and she despised every moment of it.

And she hated herself more now because she found herself padding her way towards her room. Her steps faltered when she saw you peacefully sleeping on her bed. A gentle smile touched her lips at the sight of your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Unable to resist, Haley approached you quietly. She carefully tucked you in, a tenderness in her actions that betrayed the turmoil in her heart. Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to your bandaged forehead, a gesture she had learned from her late grandmother.

"To kiss the pain away," her grandmother used to say, and Haley found solace in that belief.

With one last caress of your cheek, Haley settled onto the foot of her bed, a magazine in hand, silently hoping for the sun's rays to finally peek behind the horizon by her room's window.

****

Haley woke up surprisingly lacking any back pains. She didn't feel sleep-deprived either.

Wait—

How'd she get in her bed? You're supposed to be– Oh.

She sat up straight when she realized she was holding a letter in her hand. Straightening up the almost crumpled paper, she could recognize your handwriting immediately.

Good morning, Haley. Sorry for the disturbance last night, and thank you for taking care of me. It means a lot. I didn't want to impose more than I already have so I excused myself while you were asleep. Thank you again. — Y/n

Haley studied the letter, noting the hastily scribbled handwriting that differed from your usual neat script. She could imagine you rushing to write it just to avoid dealing with her.

It hurt more than she cared to admit. But after what she said to you, who was she to complain?

At this point, it would be a miracle if you still talked to her.

"Good morning, sis!" Emily chirped, her voice echoing through the room as Haley emerged from her room. She sat on the couch, casually knitting what appeared to be another sweatshirt.

Haley's expression was one of mild annoyance as she replied, "It's noon."

"Storm has passed but Caroline canceled, just to be safe," Emily responded, her fingers deftly working the knitting needles as she spoke. "And I know it's noon. Just wanted to emphasize you slept late, little lady."

She glanced around the living room, noting the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, indicating that the day was well underway and the storm had thankfully subsided.

"Why are you here anyway? Don't you have a yoga class to attend to?"

Haley let out a resigned groan, her movements sluggish as she made her way toward the kitchen to avoid further conversation with her sister.

"Just so you know, I saw Y/n/n come out of your room!" Emily called out from the living room, her tone playful yet teasing.

Haley froze mid-step, her grip tightening on the handle of her mug. "Wha—" Her voice wavered slightly, betraying her surprise. "Nothing happened!"

"Of course, nothing's going to happen in that state she's in," Emily retorted.

Haley couldn't ignore the sense of urgency that suddenly gripped her at the mention of your state. You're in no condition to go home all by yourself.

"Just tell me you took her home," she pleaded, her tone softening slightly as she returned to the living room.

Thankfully, Emily's too caught up with her work to notice that brief slip-up of vulnerability Haley rarely shows.

"I volunteered actually, but Penny saw us on our way and insisted she could do the job," Emily explained, her tone matter-of-fact.

"And you agreed?!" she sputtered incredulously.

"Of course, I would!" Emily readily defended. "She volunteered!"

Haley's sigh was heavy as she sank down onto the couch next to Emily. "You should have woken me up."

She could feel Emily's eyes settling on her as if trying to decipher what's got her so distressed.

"I tried, but Y/n/n won't let me. Said you needed the sleep," Emily finally answered after a few moments of silence.

"You're unbelievable." Haley couldn't help but massage the bridge of her nose at Emily's casualness about the situation as if seeing a heavily injured farmer waltz out of Haley's room was just a normal occurrence. "I suppose she told you what happened then?"

"Uh-huh. Accident in the mines, right? And she went here instead to the clinic because Harvey would kill her once he saw her state." Emily chuckled, her tone light as if discussing the weather. "He just literally told her last time to take it easy."

Haley blinked in disbelief. "And how do you know this?"

"Everyone knows this, Haley." Emily looked at her as if wondering why she didn't know this piece of information. "It's practically a common thing to see Y/n/n passed out outside in the morning."

Haley's brows furrowed in frustration, her mind racing with thoughts. Of course, she doesn't know this. If she would have known, she would have told you to take it easy. Hell, she'll help with farming if it will make things easier for you. This thing where you pass out and overwork yourself shouldn't be normalized. Actually, if anything—

She stopped herself from this line of thinking because why the hell was she even considering helping out with your farm when she, in fact, hated dirt?

"She also told me how you stepped up and helped her," Emily continued, her voice pulling Haley back to the present moment. She felt Emily's hand pat her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "I saw she's well-cleaned up. I'm proud of you, sis."

Haley forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. I'm not proud of what I did, Em.

*****

Summer 10

The sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as Haley sat alone on the shore, the gentle sound of waves lapping against the sand providing a soothing rhythm to her troubled thoughts. She had come here seeking solace, the ocean always offering her a sense of peace in times of distress.

The events yesterday had bothered her more than she had let on. She convinced herself you'd understand why she reacted the way she did but a part of herself thinks she should apologize.

But as stubborn as she is, she instead spent the whole day sulking, which is what she did.

She embraced her knees closer to her chest, fingers brushing the bracelet adorning her wrist. It was her great-grandma's, a delicate piece of jewelry passed down through generations adorned in gold and pearl on the middle part. Her grandmother has given it to her instead of her mom because she'd rather wear luxurious things than some hand-me-down jewelry. But Haley loved them, and it's probably the only piece of jewelry she'd ever wear aside from the shell necklace she was wearing now.

It was a ritual of sorts for her, wearing the bracelet whenever she felt sad and alone. It's as if wearing it made her feel like her grandma was with her at this very moment, comforting her.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize her bracelet had slipped from her wrist. It wasn't until she reached to adjust it that she felt its absence.

"Oh, no..."

With trembling hands, she combed through the sand, her movements growing more frantic with each passing moment. Her eyes scanned the water's edge, fearing the worst as she desperately sought any glimmer of gold amidst the grains of sand.

No, no... impossible. She made sure she was far enough from the water for that specific reason.

An hour passed with no sign of the precious heirloom, and Haley felt tears welling up in her eyes as desperation threatened to consume her. She practically combed the whole beach for it and still no signs of the bracelet.

She couldn't help but slump back to the sand. She's feeling everything too much.

She's such a useless piece of shit. She couldn't even kept an important heirloom. How the hell can she even keep someone like you in her life?

Everyone's right. She's way up high in the clouds that everything she touches crumbles within her fingertips.

The tears are threatening to fall from her eyes and a sob is rising on her throat.

And just before a tear fell from her eyes, a hand shot up and grabbed her by the shoulder.

She looked up and met a pair of gray eyes staring into her own. The grayish color of your eyes is stark and deep and seemed a little bluish from the illumination of the sun. It almost looked like the sky during spring or the ocean seen from a cruising ship as a cold tundra threatened to ruin the quiet solitude of the season. Your eyes telltale thousands of untold stories with every blink, stories too ambiguous, too dark for any of them to understand. Though not dark enough to feed her thoughts of the midnight sea, of storms and drowning.

Calloused fingertips thumbed mascara stains from her cheeks with such gentleness Haley doesn't think she deserves.

"I'm here," you murmured. "What happened, Haley?"

"I l-lost it," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she struggled to hold back tears. "My bracelet... it's gone! I know I had it on when I got here... But now it's gone, Y/n and I can't find it anywhere..."

She couldn't help the sob that escaped her as she burrows closer into you. She had probably stained your shirt with expensive make-up and salty tears but she didn't care as she dug her face deeper into your collar bone further and sucks a shaky breath.

"Shh," you soothed, sturdy arms wrapped around her tightened instinctively. "I'll go find it, don't worry."

"I'll never find another one like it..."

"I'm really sorry..." she felt you murmur against her hair. "I'm sure it's just around here somewhere."

"...maybe it'll wash up on another shore," she hiccuped between sobs. "I can't bear to think of it at the bottom of the ocean."

"We'll find it, okay?" you assured her, and Haley swore her heart stopped beating when you planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Stay here. We're not leaving until we find your bracelet."

****

And truth be told you did find it.

After what seemed like an eternity of combing through the sand, Haley's eyes lit up as she spotted the familiar-looking bracelet in your hands.

With a smile so bright it rivaled the sun, you approached her.

"You found it!" she cheered as she run towards you, hopping from the sand and straight to your arms.

You weren't deterred by this and proceeded to secure your arms around her to prevent her from falling.

"Careful there, we don't want to drop it again, do we?" You barked out a laugh but Haley was quick to recognize the grunt of pain in them.

"Yoba, I'm sorry! I forgot you're still wounded!" Haley made a move to let you go but you weren't having any of it. If anything, you hold her tighter. Haley couldn't help but let out a laugh as well as she wrapped her arms around your neck just as firmly. "Thank you so much, Y/n. You're a lifesaver."

"You're welcome," you murmured against her chest. "Here, I'll help you wear it."

You gently set her down, much to her disappointment, and began to fasten the bracelet around her wrist, your actions filled with care and tenderness.

"Thank you, Y/n. Really," she murmured softly. "You're always there whenever I needed you and all you get as a thank you is me being... a bitch to you. I'm sorry."

You frowned. "You're not a... 'b' word. Far from it."

"'B' word,"she scoffed, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips "What are you, twelve?"

"Hey!" you protested in mock indignation. "I can cuss. I just don't want to use it around you. I don't want to get used to it."

Haley's gaze softened drastically. If you keep this kind of consistency around her then Haley's bound to fall hard on her back. And since it's with you, you'd probably made your way to ensure she'll be falling in a pile of pillows and flowers. You're thoughtful like that.

"I'm sorry for giving you that gift yesterday..." you started after a moment of silence. "Let me finish first," you interrupted gently when you saw her mouth open to speak. "I just... prismatic shards are rare to find and I wanted to give it to you because I thought it's something you'd like to photograph."

You took her hand in yours, a tender gesture that made Haley's heart skip a beat, her cheeks flushing slightly at the warmth of your touch. The soft morning light bathed the shoreline in a golden hue, casting long shadows across the sand as gentle waves lapped against the shore.

"But then I realized how it may have looked like to you, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

"Y/n..."

"So I like to try again." Without further explanation, you strode towards the boat beside Elliot's cabin, your steps confident and purposeful, and produced a bouquet of—wait, are those sunflowers?

"No way!" she sputtered as she tried to fight the grin threatening to spill on her face. You're not supposed to look this dashing walking towards her with a bouquet in hand. It's unfair!

"Yes way." you grinned at her as you handed her the flowers, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hope I'm forgiven."

"I'm supposed to be the one saying sorry, you dunce!" Haley playfully slapped your shoulders before accepting them. "They're beautiful, Y/n! These are my absolute favorite! Thank you."

"No worries. And if you're free you can take a look at them at my farm."

"You planted them?" Now that she had mentioned it, it sounded like a stupid question. Of course, you planted them yourself, where else can you get these flowers?

But as usual, being the kind and patient person that you are, you only beamed at her and nodded. "Yep! I planted a whole yard."

"For real?"

"For real," you affirmed, your smile widening at her incredulous expression.

"But why? I mean compared to other crops I'm sure sunflowers aren't that profitable."

You shrugged again, your expression softening. "Eh, I wasn't aiming for the profit. I was aiming for your smile."

****

Previous

Next

A/n: my toes are curling while I wrote this, I hope you felt the same. Anyway, the bouquet of sunflowers isn't the same bouquet that makes Haley your girlfriend. It's just a regular ol' bouquet our farmer has personally crafted because she's a simp for our queen but just too oblivious to see it. Sorry for the delay, I had just finished my clinical recently so I was busy the whole month of April. Hope y'all like this one!

P.S. comments are much appreciated!

THANK YOU FOR 2500 LIKES! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST, SERIOUSLY.

taglist:

@joordynn

@taliiiaasteria

@iluvwomen01

[froggibus]

Hey can I request headcanons for overwatch characters and if their gf was drunk and asked them "would you still love me if I was a worm" with the overwatch men please (you don't have to do all of them but PLEASE include McCree and Reaper)

“Would You Still Love Me If I Was A Worm?” - Overwatch Boys

Includes: Cassidy, Reaper, Genji, Zenyatta, Ramattra, Hanzo, Lucio + Baptiste (w gn! reader)

Genre: fluff/kinda crack?

CW: general crack, kinda dumb tbh, suggestive in Genji and Baps, Ram is Ram (lmk if I missed anything)

been in a little bit of a writing slump but this was too good to pass up lol. I want to get a bit more writing done this week so who knows how that will go. anyway, enjoy <3 hope you like it anon!

————

Cassidy:

“what kinda question is that??”

looks at you in flabbergastation 

you pout and bat your eyes at him and of course, he breaks 

“you’re really not gonna let this go, huh? alright—of course I’d still love you, darlin’. I’d keep you in a lil jar and you could accompany me on my missions”

a jar????

now you’re the flabbergasted one 

jars don’t have air—he’s gonna let you suffocate?? 

what are you?? rainbow dash (sorry)??

somehow leads to him going out into the yard despite it being the middle of the night to try and find a worm

somehow finds one?? 

keeps it in a jar as a pet just to prove he would love you as a worm

even names it after you and pets it’s head and calls it “my wriggly little y/n”

weirdly wholesome experience would try again

Reaper

“of all the stupid shit you could have asked me…”

he says that but he’s already considering it after the question leaves your mouth 

would he love you as a worm? 

“what kind of worm”

what do you mean what kind of worm?? does it matter?? 

obviously the pink wriggly kind 

he has to ponder this 

sits in his chair stroking his chin trying to think of how you would be as a worm

“would you still be able to talk and think or would you be an actual worm”

????

“it would be me if I was a worm, Gabe”

more pondering 

“I’d love you platonically but you would probably have a short life span. I’d throw you a worm funeral.”

better than any response you could have expected but would not try again

Genji

“would we still have sex”

please hit this man

he’s joking of course—he’s not that weird 

“why would you be a worm tho”

just answer the question, Genji

green cyborg ninja dude has no idea what to answer 

will you be mad if he loves your worm self more than your current self?? would you be weird if he said he would love a wormy version of you??

“I would get myself turned into a worm too and then we could have a wormy life together and a wormy wedding and little wormy kids”

“you just want to have wormy sex” >~>

“that too”

at least he’s honest?

exactly as you expected, would not try again

Zenyatta

“a worm? like the insect?”

“yes? what other worms are there”

considers this

“is everything okay?”

poor omnic boy is so confused. are you planning on turning into a worm??? 

please reassure him it’s just a hypothetical and you’re not turning into a worm

goes on a ten minute tangent about how we are all the same in the Iris, and that he will love you no matter what form you take

honestly so wholesome + cute 

“i will care for you in this life, and the next, and all of the ones after that. even the ones where you are a worm.”

good enough would try again

Ramattra 

“No”

way to sugarcoat it, babe

it’s only when you get upset that he sighs and pulls you into his lap

“why would you ever become a worm? is someone trying to harm you? you know I would never let anyone bring harm to you.”

you try to explain that it’s just a hypothetical but he’s already going on a tangent on what he would do if you got turned into a worm

talks for five minutes alone on how he would defeat your enemies and defend your honour 

says he would “put you out of your misery”????

“you would KILL ME?!”

“as an act of honour”

babe….

0/10 would not try again

Hanzo

“why”

idk bro just answer the question 

lots of sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose

“would I also be a worm or am i still human” 

only gets more confused when you say he’d be a human and you’d be a worm

probably looks up worm life expectancy and if worms are capable of love 

“would you even know who I am if you were a worm”

has to ask a million questions before he can give his final verdict 

lets out a long sigh before looking you dead in the eyes 

“…yes”

cute in the end but would not try again 

Lucio:

“would you still love me if I turned into a frog?”

that’s not the question 

somehow it turns into a discussion on if he would eat your worm self if he was his frog self? 

he insists he wouldn’t and would let you ride on his back but you insist his frog instincts would be too strong 

“babe I’ve once seen you almost eat your own finger while eating chips”

“ok and??”

says you guys could live in a swamp together and he would protect you from evil

“I could be like your own frog superhero. I could even sing you little froggy songs”

makes up this entire life of you guys living together as a frog and a worm and him serenading you by croaking songs at night 

honestly it’s the best reaction you could have gotten, would try again

Baptiste:

“i would find you a cure and turn you back into a human”

honestly he’s very amused by this whole situation 

“but what if I want to be a worm”

“if I cure you and you want to turn back into a worm, that’s on you”

fair enough

insists he needs to ‘examine’ you so he knows you’re not turning into a worm 

makes a lot of jokes at your expense too

finally sighs and admits he would keep you in a little terrarium with all the food and nutrients you need 

“ha, so you would love me if I was a worm”

“love is a strong word”

good enough, would not try again

[shaisuki]

Oh Oh Oh, I have an idea!

Yan,husband reo has an argument with reader before dragging her to the gala with him. As pictures are taken of them and so forth, the two finally go inside reo's limo.

He then scolds her for how she was being difficult before, but admires how beautiful she is. So for being a good wife for him, he'll be a gentle to her this time around.

The two exit the car to their home, as reader is wobbling in her heels and covered in bite marks, unprepared for round 2.

Sorry if it's long, hope you have a good day!

JUST FOR ME, PLEASE

YANDERE! MIKAGE REO X CHUBBY READER

content warnings ───implied forced marriage, yandere themes, gaslighting, dubcon, power imbalance, cunnilingus, car sex, exhibitionism.

notes. i'm sorry it took so long anon and thank you for this wonderful idea.

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ your husband who can't be upset to you even he's the reason of your anger.

“i have no significance to said event. why would i attend?” you reasoned out. flipping a page of your book without sparing a glance at the man who have been your husband.

“you're my wife. you are expected to be there.” reo's eyes scanning all over you and there's already a hint of disappointment in his voice upon the refusal.

“well, sorry. no one would bother to see me and it's only for your partners who wants to kiss your ass. they don't need mine, they need yours.” tongue sharp as ever he hears and reo frowns before turning into one of a smile. it was hopeful and bright. a complete opposite to your scowl.

“just for me? i promise we can do whatever you want.” he bargained and upon hearing that, you close your book. the impact of the two thick compiled pages resonating in the room and a brief silence covered the area before you face him. “whatever i want?" you scoff. “does that include having my freedom and there's no we. it is i that i want, reo and you're a selfish prick. there's no want in this deal. fuck that event and fuck you.”

reo who is a total complete delusional only took it as nothing but your tantrums. you must have been bored out of your mind and he admits he was busy lately and with the upcoming event, he sees it as a chance to spend the time with you. “treasure, i will give you the time to think.” he said before pressing a kiss to your lips which you can't avoid with his grip on you and reo smiles. wrapping his arms to your plush body. your head in his chest while putting a kiss in the top of your head.

you found yourself staring at your reflection. you want to laugh at yourself for being stupid. for believing you have a choice in this place despite the clutches reo have a hold on you. bitter tears pooling at your lashes but you fought them not wanting to show it at strangers who were currently dolling you up for the event you desperately didn't want to attend. the make up felt like paste in your face although it was just a light one. accentuating the natural beauty you have and enough for your features to pop out and then you were dressed in a exclusively designed outfit for the event. after that, you were greeted by reo. dashing and charming he is at the suit and tie he wore. you would admire him in different circumstances but now, all you felt is how you hated him.

your jaw hurts from smiling too much. names are exchanged that you didn't even bothered remembering along with formalities. pretentious event it was paired with the pompous plus ones and greedy associates who wants nothing but your husband's approval.

the cameras blinded you with every flashes while reo gave them the smile they always wanted at him. being the wife of one of the youngest ceo's in the whole world and not only in japan garnered the attention of the media. enjoying every bits of what he have to offer and reo flaunts you like a precious trophy he won and that is you. his trophy wife. his prized possession.

you didn't know if you could keep up with your facade the more you stayed at that damned event and you were glad that you're now sitting at the limo with your husband besides you.

the ride was quiet as reo looks back to admire at his wife — looking so regal and elegant. a sophistication that only belonged to you and makes the other looking so cheap compared to you. a solemn smile graced his lips staring at his wife who were taking the sights of the city light and quiet night life. he knows how you missed the way you were living before him but he can't help it to take you away. not when his feelings for you cannot be reciprocated by yours. you simply can't be wooed at the lavish things he have to offer for you. reo have the money but what is money when he can't have you. realizing it at the first rejection that money can't buy love — especially yours.

“it wasn't so hard isn't it?” he attempts to strike a conversation to you but only reciprocated with a glance and a huff. reo puts his hand on your thigh. “talk to me, treasure.” scooting closer to press his body to your plush one. his index finger and thumb are grasping your soft jaw to look at him and he was meet by the prettiest of eyes.

there's a thousand of emotions behind them and if reo would start a research and fund it with all of his wealth, he will never know them. one looks and he's bewitched. trapped in the pool of the colors of your eyes. he sees his reflection in them. what kind of man he is. a fool for love. that how many times you've trampled his feelings he will still devote himself to you.

“treasure, please.” he pleaded. maybe in different circumstances or you met him under in healthier conditions. you would have fallen for him and you could be so weak for him. a man like reo brings nothing but despair to you and adoration at the same time.

“you're hopeless, reo.” you softly muttered to him. following where his eyes darts. it stays to your eyes and then briefly landing in your lips. it's funny how reo have the power to break you and build you again like an infinity cube. complicated and endless.

“i can hardly keep up and pretend to your whims, reo. i don't like being dragged. i hate to pretend that i'm loving every minute of your stupid events. i hate everything. from the moment you made me your wife. i-i—....” tears springing up to your eyes that you can't prevent them from falling down your eyes. it was suffocating. having to fit in and to be molded in your husband's world. you hated being weak. to being vulnerable in front of the man you hated the most.

the young billionaire is quick to wipe your tears away. kissing your forehead in attempt to calm you down with a grip to make you stay in your place despise recoiling from his touches. you were hurting but his ego didn't understand it.

“but...” he pauses for a moment before continuing. “you have been amazing to me, so good for being my wife, treasure. i can't let you go away. leave me. i was right in choosing you. in loving you and the best party? you being my wife. don't cry, treasure. i hate seeing you cry.” he says, eyebrows furrowing and the downturned corners of his lips. his expression of concern to you.

“let me make it up to you.” and then his lips into yours. “reo, no.” you whisper. pushing him away but reo remains still. “reo...—mmm” you words are stopped again when his lips tangled into yours. holding your nape as his lips lowers down. smooching your cheeks and your jaw and sucking that sensitive spot in your neck. “fuck, treasure. i just can't wait to taste you.” he says in between kisses. his breaths turning shallow as he inhales your scent.

his hand travelling to your calf and gripping your thigh. flipping the fabric to get access to the expanse of your soft skin and before he continued to get things heated up. his fingers finding the array of buttons in the compartment of his limo. pressing a button and a divider appeared from the back of the driver's seat and where you two are seated. windows being covered by dark shutters.

reo kneels in front of you. “you have been good to me treasure. let me take care of you.” parting your legs as he places his face in between your thighs. his lips peppering kisses while he sucks the tender flesh of your thighs.

his nose nudging your clit and he licks his lips. your slick gathering between in your fat pussy lips. “keep those mouth open for me, treasure.” your thick thighs are now in his shoulder while his fingers dig in the doughy flesh of your thighs. the last thing you see is his purple eyes intensely looking at your own ones before taking a dive in your cunt .

“ahhh, reo~” you moaned out when you felt his tongue taking a lick of your slit and it's going to be a long ride home.

by the time you got back at the mansion. your thighs shake at every movement. your legs felt like jello from too much wobbling. it wasn't doing any good that you were wearing heels making it unstable to stand up and reo like a gentleman assisted you in walking. his cum running down from your thighs to your legs. your makeup smudged and dress in displaced.

the billionaire kisses your shoulder. fingers untying the laces of your dress as he guides you in the bedroom. there's no way he'll let go of this opportunity not when you're looking so beautiful for him. his darling wife. his treasure.

his long and thick, nimble fingers rubbing your clit. a weak whimper leaving your lips and reo kisses you.

“we're still not finished, treasure~”

[annabelle--cane]

I guess the thing that makes me not so fond of Jon's addiction allegory is that it's only coherent to a certain extent? Like I think people sometimes forget that he's actively violating these people

anon, through no fault of your own you have accidentally hit upon my sleeper agent trigger phrase. I have layers of answers to this.

so first off, yeah, it's not a 1:1 direct metaphor, it's a soupy dream logic fantasy plot device with flavors of a lot of different things. there's quite a lot of addiction in there, there's some abuse of power, there's some cyclical nature of trauma, there's a dash of disability, there's a few notes of gendered violence, there's a good bit of just. violence violence and being kind of a motherfucker because goddammit it feels good to be an active agent about something in your life, even if it's just choosing to be a worse version of yourself than you strictly need to be. a lot of tma's worldbuilding is very allegorical, but apart from aspects of individual statements nothing really matches up quite 1:1 with a real world counterpart, and if more things did then it probably wouldn't be a fantasy show anymore.

secondly. okay to contextualize this answer a little bit I have a kind of hypothetical video essay project about vampirism and addiction that I like to spend a few hours thinking about every so often but am almost certainly never going to make because the full research burden required is a lot higher than I actually have the time to properly do. but because of that I've spent a lot of time sorting through why framing vampires as addicts really works for me in a way that it doesn't seem to for everyone, and I think a lot of my thoughts on that also apply to jon. there's going to be a bit of a detour here before we get back to talking about tma, but we'll get there, I prommy.

I've seen a lot of people take issue with various paranormal addiction allegories because, a lot of the time, the act that is meant to metaphorically represent the act of use itself is something that is directly and inherently harmful to others, e.g. drinking human blood, handing over power to your hedonistic Evil alter ego, holding the cursed amulet and going crazy going stupid, slurping trauma out of the head of some guy you ran into on a boat to norway, etc., and yeah, I do get that. substance use is not inherently harmful like that to anyone except sometimes the user themself, and addicts are not inherently fucked up and destructive people; those are dangerous stereotypes that often lead to the demonizing of a whole group of sick people.

here's the thing for me, though: those are definitely truths I want explored and represented when it comes to portrayals of non-allegorical actual addicts, but fantasy fiction isn't for showing the world as it is, it's for showing a subjective fun house mirror version of reality where certain aspects are minimized and magnified depending on how it feels to live through it. and yes, absolutely in real life drug use is not an inherently evil act and it does not make you an inherently evil person, but... doesn't it kind of feel like that? sort of? absolutely no one is living their best life nor on their best behavior while experiencing any kind of major mental illness episode, and when it comes to addiction you've got a very clear tangible symbol of when The Episode is happening that it feels like you have much more control over than when it comes to other illnesses. it's also a thing where people are a lot more likely to be openly angry and distrustful of you if they find out it's happening. so you mix together the ideas of "I know I get worse as a result of doing this one specific thing" + "I act less like myself when I'm using, it rearranges my priorities and I care less about hurting people because that's what happens when you're experiencing The Horrors" + "society at large/people directly around me are pretty quick to say that doing this is evil," and you get the subjective emotional result of "I hurt people by using and it makes me monstrous." I tend to respond to those kinds of paranormal allegories like they're just cutting out the middle man of those subjective fears. "using makes me monstrous" -> "using is monstrous."

anyway. jon archivist.

don't get me wrong, I totally understand if this aspect of metaphor doesn't gel for some people and they only like taking it exactly as far as the text explicitly makes them, but I really get a lot out of reading jon's connection to the fears as addiction precisely because he does genuinely awful things to people as a result of it. he's a person in a very bad physical and mental place with little to no support who is constantly being told by both allies and enemies that he's already a monster just by being alive, and he copes with that by secretly falling further and further into an compulsive act of consumption that skews his priorities and makes him care less about hurting people because at least sometimes getting to be the cause of pain makes him feel a little bit less powerless when he has to be the subject of pain the rest of the time. then he's found out and is made to stop, and he has to grapple not just with the physical toll of withdrawal but with knowing there is a not insignificant part of him that will excuse any act of malice if he knows he'll feel better afterwards.

the end of tma is very explicit in the fact that the rules of its world are shaped by the subjective worst fears of those who live in it, it's "an exercise in unreliably reality" as jonny sims put it once, and I think that principle extends backwards in some ways to apply to the rest of the show. I don't think the fact that there are only entities of fear and not hope or love is meant to be a full commentary on the total nature of the real world, it's a reflection of what fear and suffering can make the world feel like. eric and melanie both go to really harsh extremes to extricate themselves from the fears and live peaceful lives, and in both cases something happens that foils their plans (getting murdered + the apocalypse, respectively), but I don't think the intended message is to say that is definitively how real life works, they are metaphors for the limits of individual agency in larger systems and represent two types of worst-case-scenarios. similarly, I don't think reading jon as an addict implies that addiction inherently involves violence or that the reactions of those around him were completely unjustified, it's just a subjective exploration of the kinds of fears that can come with addiction dialed up to 100.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

can you please write something angsty about dally helping out darry after discovering how stressed he is or maybe finding him crying

Hi anon! Sorry this took so long, but here it is. Gonna tag @chained-sweater and @johnnyburntcake because they both asked to be tagged when it was finished after reading my out of context snippet. As with most of my stuff this is unbetaed so sorry for any mistakes or typos

*******************

Dallas Winston needs a lot of things. His boots are held together with duct tape and about fourteen different layers of mud, his jeans are worn, torn, patched, and torn again, and his number of material possessions is probably something less than twenty- he never had much in the first place and he pawned just about everything he had when he ran from New York five years ago. But despite all the things he is lacking, all the things he’s never had and the things he could use, what he wants most right now is a fucking break.

Dammit but he didn’t think moving out to rodeo country would involve caring so much. His gang back in New York had been a proper gang- more organized and even crueler than Shepards outfit, a group of tough as nails dealers and muscle, who’d just as soon shoot a kid as they would give them a chance. Hell, he’d been scared of them back in the day, for all he’d been smarter than most of them, because that kind of casual violence only came from the joy of hurting something, not from necessity. Only an idiot wouldn’t be scared of those sorts of people. Here though, in sleepy little Tulsa Oklahoma his gang is…a drunk, a dropout, two high schoolers, one recent high school graduate, and tagalong middle school kid- and yet, Dally finds himself far more loyal and goddamn committed to the ragtag group of big hearted losers than he ever was to old Alfie and his ring of coke dealing miscreants. It’s maddening. It’s wonderful. It’s horrible. It’s tiring is what it is, and Dally needs a goddamn break. Who wouldn’t after the night he’d just had, which involved practically dragging a nearly hypothermic Johnny Cade out of the cold and trying to warm the kid up? And as if that hadn’t been bad enough, he’d then had the dubious honour of driving Ponyboy to school this morning. Something about the kid’s zombielike stare and hunched shoulders had left him thinking of how bright those eyes used to be, just three months ago, which led to him thinking of Mrs. Curtis’ stern demeanour but kind face, and it was all just too much. Dallas needs a break. He wasn’t meant for this sappy caring shit. He’s done his mourning- he doesn’t need to be knocked all off kilter because of two kids who think of themselves as gangsters but in reality are nothing more than battered kids, bruised in different ways. This is the problem, Dally has found, with gangs that are more family than function- they���re made of people instead of parts of a machine. You can’t care about someone who is replaceable- but no one in the Curtis gang is replaceable, not by a long shot. That wasn’t the case back in New York.

Whatever. He’s done thinking about this now. He’s going to go back to the Curtis house and watch shit tv and maybe steal some food if the kitchen doesn’t look too skint this week. He is not going to think about kids who aren’t his problem (and yet completely are because he’d joined this stupid excuse of a gang and made them his problem in the first place), and he is going to stop being so fucking soft. Geez. If Tim could hear his thoughts right about now he’d lose just about all his street cred. 

Of course, because he’s Dallas Winston, and life has never thrown him a fucking bone in all seventeen years of his life on earth, his hopes for a peaceful afternoon are dashed the second he steps through the door. 

Darrel Curtis- six foot two, two hundred pounds of pure muscle, cool headed Darrel Curtis- is parked at the worn kitchen table, head in his hands, a water bill and something Dally is reasonably sure is property tax forms sitting in front of him.

 And he’s crying.

Darry Curtis doesn’t cry. In all the time Dally has known him, he’s never seen the guy so much as sniffle- not even at the funeral three months ago when Darry buried both parents in one horrible day. Soda had broken down immediately, and Pony had stared wide eyed, rivers of silent tears pouring down his cheeks- but Darry hadn’t. He’s crying now though, and not just a little bit either, huge gut wrenching sobs tearing from his mouth and shit Dallas doesn’t really know what to do. What he wants to do is pretend he never saw this, pretend it never happened and leave, let Darry have his well earned breakdown in the solitude he clearly believed he had. Of course, he would have had to have the foresight not to slam open the screen door for that to even be a possibility.

Darry jumps at the noise, shoulders squaring immediately, letting out one last sob that he could easily explain away as a gasp of surprise as he regains his barings. 

“Oh,” He clears his throat, valiantly trying to pretend like his eyes are bloodshot and his stubble covered cheeks covered in tear trcks, “hey Dal. There’s sandwich stuff in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

In that second he sounds so much like his mother that it punches Dally in the chest a little bit. Something about the ocean of feelings quickly locked behind a kind word and a carefully controlled expression is so reminiscent of Mrs. Curtis that Dally almost finds himself nodding a yes and escaping into the kitchen. He can’t though, because as much as Darry acts like her, he will never be his godlike mother. Instead, he is his kind hearted self, a twenty year old with the custody of two kid brothers he couldn’t bear to be separated from, and all the pressures of adult life most people don’t even start having to worry about until they’ve had time to really live. Mrs.Curtis had taken care of all of them, even Dally when everyone else only ever looked at him as a lost cause. Darry can’t do that though, can barely look out for Soda and Pony. Anyone with eyes can see how he’s been struggling since the funeral, nevermind the way Soda’s endless energy has turned anxious and resentful, grades slipping, while Pony gets quieter and moodier, a thirteen year old ticking time bomb. 

“You stay outta trouble for me Dallas,” Mrs. Curtis said to him once, “I know you ain’t a good boy but you’re a loyal one and sometimes that’s more important. So don’t go gettin’ yourself locked up for a bit, savvy? My boys need you more than they know.” 

She hadn’t just been talking about Darry, Soda, and Pony. The whole gang was Mrs.Curtis’ boys and everyone knew it, but Dally had held those words close to his heart more times than he could count, a balm on his perpetually blackened soul. Mrs.Curtis had known the score, known that goodness wasn’t the same thing as love, and she’d loved him anyhow- unconditionally and more than his own sorry excuse of a mom ever had. She’d trusted him too, never babied him or tried to fix him the way every other adult was always trying to, just patched him up when he got into trouble, and scolded him for not being smarter. You wouldn’t have survived this long if you were stupid Dallas, so don’t go pullin’ a stunt like this again. C’mon and git some dinner now, there's casserole in the fridge.

It would break her heart to see Darry like this now, so small and defeated, two things her eldest son was never meant to be. But she isn’t here right now, never will be again.

But Dally is.

My boys need you more than they know.

Damn Mrs.Curtis and her all knowing ways, because she knew what she was doing when she took him in because now he’s stuck with this stupid gang in this stupid town forever because she made him love her and love them all too.

“What’s goin’ on Darry?”

“Nothing,” Darry lies, fingers twitching a bit to pull the papers closer to him.

“I ain’t Soda, you don’t gotta lie to me like that.”

Shame twists his handsome features and he looks down, fidgeting with his high school ring.

“I don’t got enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Money Dallas,” he snaps, “I don’t get my first paycheck from that new job until next week, and both these are due on Friday. I bought groceries yesterday, and paid the hydro on Monday, no matter what I’m short.”

There’s such fear in his eyes. Dally remembers what the social workers said when Darry got custody, how militant they’re going to be checking up on him. One missed bill could have Soda and Ponyboy taken away before any of them could cry ‘unfair’.

My boys need you more than they know.

Dally can’t let that happen. It would kill Darry, Soda might go full crazy and Ponyboy…the kid was already sensitive. He’d never make it in a boy’s home. 

“How much?”

“What?” Darry blinks at him and Dally rolls his eyes. Darry Curtis has never been stupid, so he doesn’t know why he’s acting stupid now. 

“How much money do you need?”

“Four fifty.”

Dally winced. That was more than he had on him right now, more than he could get from Two-bit and Steve if he asked on the down low. None of them ever had that kind of scratch just lying around- unless Steve’s dad had recently paid him to come back home, but the old man had booted Steve out two days ago and chucked a bottle at him yesterday when he went back to grab spare clothes so they probably weren’t back to playing happy family yet, and likely wouldn’t be for  while.

Still. There’s other ways to get money.

My boys need you more than you know.

“Leave it to me.” Dally promises.

“No.” Darry shoots him down immediately,  “It ain’t your responsibility Dallas-”

“It ain’t all yours either.”

“That’s exactly what it is!”

“Are we a gang or not?” Dally glares, “I know you Curtis boys are wicked at acceptin’ help but like it or not you need it right now! I ain’t watchin’ the state take Soda an’ Pony away because of your fucking pride Darry!”

Darry stares at him a moment, eyes hard before he sighs, shoulders drooping, suddenly looking the same type of bone deep exhausted that is becoming an all too familiar look on him. 

“Just…don’t do anything illegal, ok? The boys can’t handle you bein’ locked up right now.”

For some reason the words sting. It’s true the gang’s all been a wreck since the Curtis parents died, but Dally is under no illusions as to his place in their ragtag little group. They survived well enough before him, and they’ve survived every time he’s been in the cooler since knowing them, and it won’t be any different if he gets locked up now.

He must have scoffed or something because Darry glares at him. “I mean it.”

Whether he’s talking about the gang needing him or about him not doing anything that could get him into trouble with the cops, Dally doesn’t stick around long enough to find out. Instead, he turns on his heel, a plan already forming in his mind.

Buck Merril is just about the most pigheaded cowboy Dally’s ever met in his life, but he’s always running about half a dozen money making scams at any point in time, and he jumps anytime Dally offers to help because he gets stuff done and keeps his trap shut good. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, working for a guy he hardly likes and doesn’t respect, but money is money and Darry needs money desperately right now so he swallows his pride and asks Buck what needs doing.

He ends up two towns over, at a rickety trailer park off the main road, two kilos of smack stashed under the seat of Buck’s car. He makes the drop, bullies the buyer who wasn’t willing to cough up Buck’s agreed upon price, and ignores the way his stomach twists at the way he just gave someone else the very thing that destroyed his sister’s life, a million years ago back in New York. 

Buck claps him on the shoulder when he gets back. Dally shoves him off, takes his cut of dirty money, and leaves before he can punch someone. 

Warm light spills out the window of the Curtis house when he gets there. Ponyboy is leaning against Johnny on the porch steps, smoking a cigarette and staring at the sky, Johnny murmuring something to him that the kid doesn’t seem to be really hearing. It’s frightfully domestic and frightfully sad, the bruise on Johnny’s cheekbone almost black in the dim evening light, Ponyboy looking so skinny and tired Dally has the urge to tell him to go to bed. He doesn’t of course- it’s not his place, and Pony isn’t his brother. Instead, he ruffles both kids' hair as he passes them, tells them to get inside so they’ll have enough folks for a round of poker, and goes to find Darry.

Darry’s in the kitchen, scrubbing purple mac’n’cheese off a saucepan when Dally finds him. He watches for a minute, sees the tension in Darry’s broad shoulders, the viciousness in the way he’s scrubbing the pan. Desperation, Dally knows Is all consuming, bleeding into every thought, every action, every facet of life. For all he’s a different kind of desperate, Darry Curtis is as desperate now as Dally himself is.

He spares a quick glance over his shoulder. Johnny and Pony have trooped inside, the latter robotically shuffling a deck of cards, while Soda and Johnny chat quietly. Steve is flipping through channels on the radio, and Two is nowhere to be found. None of them so much as glance at the kitchen. Good.

“Dar.” 

Darry jumps, turns. 

“Glory Dal, scare a man to death, why dontcha!”

He rolls his eyes. “Ain’t my fault you weren’t payin’ attention. Here.” He holds out an envelope, and Darry’s eyes light first in understanding, then in hope.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offerin’ if I wasn’t.”

“Dal…”

“Take it,” He shakes the envelope, “before the others see.”

Hesitantly Darry reaches out, but as soon as his hands close around the paper he all but snatches it from Dally’s hand.

“Dal…I…thank you. I can’t tell you-”

“Whatever man,” Dally can feel the discomfort that comes anytime he is thanked or treated half decently raring in his chest, “I told you I’d take care of it and I meant it.”

“I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”

“It ain’t a loan, it’s just helpin’ out.”

“That’s not what I- nevermind,” Darry shakes his head, mouth twisting in a rueful half smile, “There’s dinner in the fridge, I made sure Soda saved you some.”

Dally fixes himself a plate, glaring down at pasta that was never meant to be purple, and he and Darry join everyone else in the living room. Johnny grins when he sees him, scooting closer to Ponyboy to make room on the sofa, and Steve steals the cards out of Pony’s hands to start dealing, having finally found a station playing half decent music. 

Dally eats his dinner and plays poker, pretending he doesn’t care half as much as he does when he loses. He wins half of Soda’s cigarettes and quickly loses them all to Johnny, pretending the feeling in his chest isn’t softer than anything he usually lets himself feel.

These boys don’t know it but they need him more than they know, and he’ll keep them safe. For Mrs, Curtis, but for himself too. 

After all, he’s always been a selfish bastard. 

[purpledemonlilyposting]

Lily is making throwaways to talk to herself now cause she's too afraid to turn anons back on.

[Lily's post]

There are so many golden nuggets in here. Since these are both most likely Lily lets look at a few!

Lily's media takes are beyond just bad, she asserts that the creators of children's cartoons are dangerous extremists for perceived bad messaging in their works that Lily just makes up.

Even without that Lily's takes on symbolism, metaphor, and just basic narrative structure are worth examining because they are some of the most bizarre and ignorant many of us have ever encountered.

But no one "orients their life around you", Lily. It just feels that way because you sit in your subsidized apartment on the internet all day ordering Door Dash from a Subway you could easily walk to. I'd say get some sun but you'd probably turn to ash like a vampire.

As for me? I do something you're incapable of: putting on a show.

No one cares you're trans, Lily. Get over it. Plenty of trans people exist in online nerd culture. You can't hide from the consequences of your own words and actions by using your demographic as shield.

Pfft. They could try. Go ahead. Make videos about me. Hell, Lily, unlike you I don't even hold or delete comments. The little anklebiters who like to lecture me in my comment section don't seem to realize I'm the one allowing them to be there expressing their stupid ignorant opinions because that aligns with my principles.

Lily doesn't make a video about me because she knows I'd just react to and laugh at it. And with any luck YouTube has taken her ability to copyright strike away because she's used it maliciously 9 times.

Also retard. Just say retard, Lily. Not "tradigrade" not "child left behind" not "fetal alcohol syndrome". Just say retard.

You clearly want to. And are bitter you can't because of the insular audience you've cultivated.

This is how I know it's you because only Lily Orchard could be upset I criticized the bland Antarctica anime for being a bland Antarctica anime the sole focus of which is to get 4 teenage moeblobs on a big technical ship. Which is written by a middle aged man who does nothing but moeblob shows and directed by a woman who does nothing but moeblob shows. They both worked on No Game No Life, Lily. You know. This:

The one with the 11 year old loli in love with her step brother. Actually Lily it sounds right up your alley. You should watch it next.

Antarctica show is so full of so many plot contrivances. Why does Shirase just carry her wad of Antarctica cash everywhere and dropped it so carelessly? It's sure convenient that her and Kimari just happen to go to the same school and Kimari happens to hear her loudly wailing about the money in the bathroom. How does Hinata, a 16 year old high school drop out who works in a convenience store think she can even hope to afford this trip? Where are her parents in this anyway? We never see them.

The girls only get on the trip in the first place because another girl who is a child star vlogger just happens to be also going and just happens to contact them wanting them to go in her stead. And after making friends with them she tells her mother that she won't go without the other 3 girls but... the rest of the expedition that adamantly refused to let them on before just suddenly agrees to take them? Because this one minor celebrity and her manager mom who isn't even going said so? Takako only wanted to go to Antarctica because it just sounded neat, she's not an artic researcher, or engineer, or anything that would justify her being out there (a woman in STEM? Perish the thought says 50 year old Jukki Hanada I guess) and she died out in a blizzard trying to get a laptop to email her daughter who she has now left motherless for no good reason. And this is only ever treated as heartwarming and not idiotic.

Face it Lily. The entire show exists just to get 4 teenage girls on a big ship so otaku men can enjoy both brainless moeblobs and technical ship porn. The show sure likes to emphasize over and over how the girls are joshi kosei too. Why couldn't the show have been about the trip of the adult women (who incidentally also act like brainless teenage girls in the show)?

Yeah you guys aren't winning against me on Utena lol. Here, have my post where I have the video walking people through the episode itself. If you want to ignore the actual text of the series in order to appear morally forthright that's your own problem:

And everyone on the bus clapped, and that Asian woman's name? Albert Einstein. What does this have to do with anything except poisoning the well by linking this unsourced incident in peoples' minds to Ant and I?

Also it's Twitter. So Twitter is bad and unreasonable here, but they're not bad and unreasonable when they're squawking at me over a classic anime they've never even watched. Or squawking at Ant cause "L-L-Lily is totes a Native trans woman?? So you can't criticize any of the batshittery that spews constantly from her face hole??"

Ah now we're on to Lily's response to herself.

Oh look out Ant, Lily's got damning screenshots she just can't show anybody right now.

Probably similar to when she happily accepted a screenshot from Poppy of Poppy being creepy to Courtney and tried to blame Courtney for it.

Lily you attract attention when people talk about you because the wider nerdy internet knows your takes are insanely bad. And they know your takes are all tangled up in your personal dramas and heinous actions. They can tell. You're not as subtle as you think you are.

I cut together my response to your bad Utena takes in your 2023 Steven Universe video on a whim and slapped it on my completely unestablished personal YouTube account. It got 5k views in a few days. That's how disliked you are.

Nobody knows who I am but you sure copyright struck 4 of my livestream VODs trying to take my channel down. The 4 VODs where I most talk about your blatantly obvious incest fetish at that. Nobody knows who I am but I've gained 10k subs in 6 months primarily from dunking on you. Because I'm better at YouTube than you are.

And people do bitch at me for saying retard constantly. And you know why I keep doing it? Because the ones who most often tell me not to are some of the most annoying, entitled, self-righteous, puritanical control freaks and it's an easy way to weed them out.

By the way have fun trying to find a lawyer within 10 days who will tell you "Why yes, Lily, you can absolutely copyright these videos of yours full of footage that belong to Viacom, Netflix, Amazon, Toei Animation, Dreamworks, Activision-Blizzard, and many more!"

[mandiemegatron]

Why kill off the reader in the second part of losing the war? I was expecting Kidd or Killer to get hurt or something but killing the reader? Tell us you don't care about your readers without telling us you don't care about your readers. Who the fuck kills off the READER? Take the L and maybe stop acting like your writing is better than it actually is.

*deep breath*

Okay.

I've received a handful of anons similar to this one and I didn't think I'd have to come on here to break down my ideas and give reasons as to why I wrote something the way I did, but clearly some people are pretty pressed over my choices for Just Come Home. Everything under the readmore so I don't clog up people's dash.

Let's break this down one point at a time. So firstly, my choice to kill off the Reader was actually a last-minute decision while finishing it off. My original idea was reader never forgives Kid and decides to fight Kid and Killer instead, losing and being left for dead (for Law to find), but decided, why not even more hurt? More pain and more anguish, as I was asked to put Kid through via some askers/anons. I found the best way to do that, was to kill off the reader. Have them make amends only to have that ripped from Kids hands and destroyed with a simple flick of the wrist, and honestly, the fact that I had myself in tears while writing it gave me the motivation to continue with that idea.

I also wanted to delve into trying my hand at Law who felt backed into a wall and decided to spill blood, all for the sake of having an upper hand, and if that meant he had to off the reader to keep that upper hand, then so be it. I wanted to write something different from my usual angst, something a little more devastating and I feel like I hit that mark pretty damn close. Truly, I'm sorry you feel differently about it.

Secondly, don't you EVER come into my inbox and point fingers, saying I don't care about my readers. Buddy, I probably care TOO MUCH about my readers, about what they think and about how they feel when reading my writing. This is incredibly hurtful for you to come up here and essentially scream in my face that this isn't good enough. I need you to understand that if you dont enjoy something, that means it wasn't written for YOU. Not everything you come across is going to be to your taste and it's insanely self-centered and entitled of you to come in here and tell me I don't give a fuck about my readers because YOU thought it was stupid. It feels like you're taking this a little personally and I don't understand why.

Lastly, i don't sit here and brag about my writing. In fact, I feel like I stay pretty quiet other than some self reblogs of things I've written when I'm feeling that certain blorbo. It's confusing and again, hurtful, for you to come in here and essentially tell me to shut the fuck up... on my own blog. That's some strange activities there, buddy. I think you maybe need to log off for a bit, go sit in nature and do some deep breathing because this is crossing the line over to chronically online. Please go outside for a bit. Please revise your manners and remember the golden rule. You don't have to be religious for you to understand "treat others the way you want to be treated".

Do better.

[osarina]

to the anon - i’m putting it under the cut because i’m not bringing discourse to my dash again. you are right in that you’re getting blocked, but i'm afraid that's where it ends!

i don't know WHERE you get the inclination that you think i think i'm being "cool" by my previous message, i'm sure that you think you're cool coming on anon to act like the selfship police, but i'll entertain your shitty asks one last time. i did not LIE about anything you said, that's a bold and absurd accusation.

i fear that is common sense. if someone does not have their exact age on their account and gives a vague range instead, you're a crossing a boundary by pressing for that exact age range to call them "weird". don't play stupid, it's not "mature" of you.

but quite frankly i don't CARE what you find weird! i am not aging myself back to being 18 again in my fics, i'm portraying the two of us at the stage in our selfship when we would have both been 18. when people write childhood friends to lovers, and the scene includes them being 12, they are not "regressing themselves" to be 12 again to selfship with a 12 year old version of a character. they are creating plot and substance to that point in a timeline and that's NORMAL. that's how writing works. i can write the 18 year old versions of me and dazai from the past in my fics to portray that portion of the story while still being in the 20s! i like substance and background to my selfships.

what about this is NOT judgmental? you come into my ask box judging me for having a selfship with dazai and pressing me about my age while calling it "weird" (that's a quote!) there is no twisted narrative here, you're acting like the selfship police. more than that, you're prioritizing the feelings of someone that does not exist over the feelings of a real life person. comparing someone in their early twenties to finding comfort with a character that is LITERALLY THEIR AGE is fucking absurd. dazai is 22 currently, he was 18 once. i am in my early twenties currently, i was 18 once. ???? i'm going through the timeline of what our relationship would've been like. comparing this to someone who is 50 selfshipping with a 14 year old is INSANE. that is a FOUR decade difference, not a few years. be fucking real right now, i actually can't believe someone typed this out and thought "wow this will totally get her!!"

again - your "simple question", if you put a little thought behind it, crosses boundaries. don't YOU lie. you can play innocent all you want but we all know that if someone doesn't have something explicitly stated - ESPECIALLY when they have an alternative there - it is CROSSING BOUNDARIES to press and ask for it. you can play innocent and stupid, but it's not going to work here, sorry. i'm not going to let you come onto MY blog and disrespect me.

... let me understand this .... dazai left in the spring .... his birthday is in the summer .... dazai is eighteen when he leaves the mafia .... meaning his birthday in the summer passed (and thus spring as well), so he left the next spring ... which means he's been 18 for nearly a whole year ............ regardless of the fact that you just disproved your own point, you sent no source and i'm afraid i'm not going to just take your word because i cannot find ANYTHING on this topic online.

on this topic, i never claimed to be the end all knowledge of dazai, i am not asagiri, i don't know everything and i dont claim to. but continue to get your snide comments in, i hope it makes you happier.

i allow simple questions when they are not rude and disrespectful. furthermore, i am NOT a content creator. i am a person who enjoys writing and enjoys sharing it. this is my personal blog, i don't make money from this. i will repeat - i am NOT a content creator, i don't like that term and the implications/expectations that come along with that. and this ask is precisely why.

this is the end of this discussion. there is one immature person here and it is YOU. you can act innocent and play stupid, but everyone knows that wasn't meant to be a simple question, and your response is even more showing of that. you're not going to come onto my blog - MY safe space - and disrespect me. the moment you ended that ask with "it's weird" it becomes rude and judgmental. if it was meant to be a simple question, you would have cut commentary altogether.

comparing someone who is in their early twenties selfshipping with a character who is ALSO in their early twenties to someone who is 50 selfshipping with someone who is 14 is actually insanity. i will always add substance and backstory to my selfships, just like i do with my fics. if you don't like that, kindly stay off my blog.

and claiming that i'm immature when you're throwing a fit in my inbox over someone selfshipping with a fictional character is more telling of you than me.

i will reiterate one last time that i am not a content creator nor do i want to be treated like one. this is my personal blog that i write fanfiction on. i don't get paid, i don't get sponsorships, brand deals or anything. i write fanfiction for myself and i share for those who might be interested. i'm not going to sit here and be told i'm "bad" at something that i'm not because you have a preconceived idea of how i "should" be acting because you presume i'm something that i'm not. it says right on my nav that this is a personal blog.

you're blocked, this conversation is over. i hope you reflect and realize why you were wrong here and you don't put another writer on here through the same thing.

i hope you have a good life and heal. peace and love.

[petite-madame]

I just found again your account. I first saw your art when I was a teenager. And its been a while. Your art has felt like coming back to a brewed coffee and some pastries. Winter wind blowing against the coffee shop windows.

It feels like coming back home to fandoms i used to adore. And look at it fondly, in a nostalgic lense. You've worked very hard and honed your skill. I'm proud of how long you've been drawing and how you provided such joy and excitement in so many people. Heck even just sparked a glint in their eye whilst being on the internet.

Tu est merveilleuse. Tu as tellement contribué pour les fandoms. Merci énormément ♡

Hi anon ^^

First, I apologize it took me so long to answer. Messages kept piling up and it took me time to reach yours. 😳

This is one of the kindest messages I ever received. Not that other messages are not kind or sincere, or that I don't enjoy receiving or reading them but...you see what I mean ? 😳 Comparing my art and the feeling it brings you to "coming back to a brewed coffee and some pastries. Winter wind blowing against the coffee shop windows." is so...so poetic ? And strong ? And it talks to me, you see ? The nostalgia, the feels. 😭

It's really funny because I received a message from another anon who told me they hadn't "seen (my) art for years but it randomly came across (their) dash and (they) recognized the style right away" and I compared the experience to finding out that an old restaurant you used to go to as a kid was still open. That's me, I'm the restaurant, this little coffee shop that still tries to bring you good pastries. 🥳Sometimes, the menu changes a bit but it's still the same recipe and the same owner, who starts to get a bit old, but who is still enthusiastic about the new cakes available in his tiny shop.

I'm proud of how long you've been drawing and how you provided such joy and excitement in so many people.

I've always drawn, I think I will carry on as much as I can. And even if I draw for me (almost like a compulsion, a need), it's messages like yours that makes me carry on sharing my art on the internet because even if I have a "successful coffee shop", sometimes, I can't help thinking about some drawings I do "Nah, nobody's going to care about this one". 🤓 I forget about it but then, sometimes a few weeks later, I post the art and I receive messages from people telling me I made their day, that they were having a bad time but that my art cheered them up. It's incredible, right ? Someone is having a bad day in Milwaukee or Jakarta and me, and my stupid little "bakeries" helped them smile (*) for a couple of minutes. I think it's fantastic. So even if as an artist I love to share what I do, sometimes when I think that "nobody cares", I think about some random people and the possible positive outcome that my art can produce.

(*) Sometimes, I make people cry too because of death art and pretty angsty illustrations but that's another story. You're welcome, by the way 🤓

Of course, my artworks are not masterpieces, I'm not starting a pictural revolution, it's just TV show and movie characters doing "random stuff" but if these artworks that will be forgotten in 10 minutes will make someone smile just a couple of seconds at some point in time then, it was worth it. I guess. I hope so. (And sometimes, it's more than a couple of seconds because some people put my art as their desktop wallpaper or phone background. How awesome is that ? 🤩🥳)

Anyway, I'm rambling. 🙃🙃🙃 Thank you so much for this amazing message and for enjoying my art all these years. (Because I write, I write but I didn't even thank you!!)

I wish you a great weekend and I hope that you'll stop by my coffee shop again. 💗

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/756016587973279744/httpswwwtumblrcomolderthannetfic755410324078

Honestly, while I'd be nicer about it, I agree flags are kind of cringe, or at least how seriously people take them is. It's really stupid seeing people treat flags like they're a really big deal. Other than the two rainbow flags, no one even recognizes most of them. Plus you only see them in people's icons online most of time so like... look away? Scroll? Curate your experience? It's not hard.

Also like above anon, I also definitely knew some people in college whose every outfit for a semester or two included pins and pride patches. It was definitely to get other people to know they were queer so they could talk about being queer. But they were always really new to knowing they were queer and they sort of... moved on sounds wrong because they're still queer, but they stopped doing that and stopped being all, "Have you heard about this sapphic movie?" "There's a bi character in this!" every conversation and went back to having more interests.

Meanwhile, I don't get why we're plastering them on everything in the first place. Like, should I be feeling affirmed or uplifted by pride shoelaces or pride socks or something? Is the pride pin supposed to make me feel happier, like how crystal mommies think rose quartz makes you happy? Are these colors here to do some color theory psychology thing? Because whatever I was supposed to get out of them, I've never gotten. I'm 32, 33 pretty soon, and I've never gotten this. I remember pins being a thing people were into in college, but even then I didn't get it. (And before anyone goes, "they're supposed to make you feel safer with your fellow queers and in the queer community", having been raped by a guy from the queer student club when I was in college because he 'knew' aroace black men didn't really exist and I must just be gay and in denial and he could fix me and, that, uh. That's not where my brain goes. Shit people can have any pin on their jacket, it's not a magic talisman that removes evil.)

I mask a lot as a neurodivergent person and I've always had to mask when I don't like something other people are hyped about because they get along with you better if you do. But whenever I see people on my dash oohing and aahing over pins or shoelaces or bracelets or hats I just reblog out of wanting to support the queer creators of whatever it is. I don't feel anything when I look at flag merch. It doesn't evoke anything in me. I know better than to say it doesn't because then you're suffering from internalized queerphobia or whatever but it's just... nothing, to me.

--

I haven't had any pins in decades and thought the rainbow ring necklaces were tacky back in the day, but honestly.

I own a sweatshirt from some botanical garden I supported once. And a college shirt. No sports team gear since I hate sports, but that wouldn't be weird either.

College students are frequently annoying about their new identities or political affiliations, but you are also being ridiculous. Humans like markers of identity of many types, including logos on clothing. This is just more of that.

[protagsbf]

hi can i request

coworker x reader hc:the reader who is good at a lot of things so their only flaws that they are very clumsy and shy.

head over heels for you! (literally..)

coworker x gn!reader, normal au : hcs + scenario

— suddenly getting thrown into a completely new workplace, you can't help but stress. luckily, your new coworker's here to help you out of your shell!

an: first request yayyyyy!! school starts next month BUT I PROMISE TO STAY LOCKED IN POOKIES also thank you for the request anon (´◡`) also im basing this off my case of shyness because idk i can!! AND YES GUYS YOU CAN CLAIM EMOJIS FOR YOURSELVES HEHEHEHE

picture this: you, the person who'd trip over their shoelaces, misplace at least half of their things, and practically break into a cold sweat when a stranger talks to you, go a job at a major corporation!

you honestly don't even understand how you made it past the interview (or how you got one in the first place...) but now you're here, sitting at a cubicle with a stack of paperwork that needs to be done.

but with your exceptional performance from your past jobs, you at least got put in a cubicle near the breakroom, which is where you'd hide yourself away during breaks so no one would come up and talk to you. it wasn't that you hated everyone in the workplace or anything, you just didn't know how to strike up a conversation without making you look like a complete idiot.

though one day, you found yourself stuck on a piece of a paperwork for a project. it needed a signature from a superior, whoever that may be.

now, were you going to walk up to someone, tap their shoulder, and ask who you need to ask to sign the papers? of course not. no way in HELL you're doing all that.

and that's why you're here now, wandering the hallway as people brush your shoulders with no clue of where you're going or who you need to see. soon, you found yourself nervously standing in front of an office, ' ████ executive' engraved on a metal plate on the door. surely this guy's signature would be enough, right?

after a quiet knock to their door and a somewhat loud "come in!" came from the inside, you hesitantly opened the door, walking into the office. you were met with a man sitting at his desk, pushing a burnt cigarette into the ash tray on his desk. he had blond hair and wore a green suit, nothing you hadn't really seen in an office like this.

to break the awkward silence in the room, you tried to small talk with him for a bit, and damn did he talk a lot. wanting to get out of the interaction as soon as possible, you mentioned the papers and walked closer to hold them out to him. he waved his hand dismissively, telling you to just leave it there. you nodded, putting the documents down before turning to leave.

yet, just as everything was going well, you tripped on seemingly nothing and fell face first onto the carpet. you groaned quietly in pain, quickly getting up. shit, shit, shit, you probably looked so stupid in front of that guy! before he could say anything, you practically dashed out of his office.

a few days went by, and you couldn't help but constantly think back to how you tripped on your way out of an executive's office, praying he'd forget.

though... turns out you weren't so lucky.

you tapped your foot repeatedly against the breakroom's carpeted floor, waiting for the coffee machine to finish. as much as you wanted to forget it, your brain seemed to enjoy tormenting you as it never let you forget that vivid moment of you tripping in front of possibly one of your superior's faces, then running away before anything else could happen. he probably thought you were some sort of weirdo! who even does that?! what if he—

"ah, there you are! took me long enough to figure out which department you were from."

a shiver was sent down your spine as footsteps approached, that voice being all too familiar. you then felt a hand pat your shoulder from behind.

"so, you're the one who handed me those papers, right?"

"yeah..?"

"so, this is your guys breakroom, huh? it doesn't even have a television? no wonder people who work here are so depressed.." the blond commented, looking around the room.

you had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. was this guy actually being serious? wait— why was he even here??

"by the way, how's that forehead of yours? you took quite the fall the last time i saw you!" he laughed, leaning against the wall as you took your mug of coffee from the machine. what were you supposed to say? i mean, your forehead was fine, at the very least.

"oh, uhm.. it's okay. thank you for the concern."

"hah, good to know! if it were anyone else, an incident like that would've scared anyone into never showing their face again!" he suddenly ruffled your hair, catching you by surprise. "y'know, i've heard people talk about you a lot. you sound pretty good for a newbie, despite you not being one for words. i'm looking forward to working with you!" that statement couldn't help but make you smile for a little.

you and him talked for a little longer before he made his leave, patting you on the back and saying he'll catch you later. even if he had been the one doing most of the talking, he still managed to make you feel all light and bubbly. like all your worries had been lifted off your shoulders in those few moments the two of you exchanged words.

maybe working in this company wouldn't be so bad.

ever since then, he'd often drop by the breakroom to chat with you. he even invited you for smoke breaks with him! (even if you don't smoke, he'd drag you with him anyway.)

when you asked him how he has so much free time to spend with you, he'd always find a way to dismiss the matter.

he'd also often help you when talking to others when he could. needed to send a request to another department? he'll send it for you. have a meeting you really don't want to attend? you're suddenly not required to attend anymore.

your tendencies of clumsiness never seemed to end, yet he found it endearing regardless. he'd often offer to carry your stuff and even replace the things you break. no matter how much you tell him he should stop or he doesn't have to, he still does it, he was just so persistent, maybe even a little stubborn. even when he'd take you out (as a friendly gesture to a coworker, as he says), he'd always offer to be the one to talk to the employees and cashiers of the stores and cafés.

no matter how much you fell, he'd always be there to catch you.

soo....... this ended up WAY longer than i expected. oops. i mean its still KINDA short but shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... anyways, i really hope i did your request justice!!!!!!! its kinda sloppy considering i wrote this in a day or two butttttt i feel like i pooped out as much as i could for this and i really wanted to post it already auduiaodsohsahosdo IM GONNA GO WORK ON THE OTHER ASKS NOW ILY GUYS BYEEEE!!!!!!!!!!! ^^

[rat-rosemary]

In case people are wondering how close drantis are sometimes to dsmpblr and dreblr:

That cgeorge art people are reblogging? He dangly one with the caption of they want to make it a keychain if there's enough interest?In the tags of the original post they say they hate abd "do not endorse" ccGeorge LMAO.

I feel you on the "dont vet blogs" thing because like throwback to the 2nd great twitter exodus and i had people all up in my asks because I reblogged rivals art that crossed my dash and apparently OP shipped a ship twitter did NAWT like. Like. Ok. First off I saw Rivals Duo on my dash. So I reblogged Rivals Duo on my dash. Second, thats my friend (didnt you scroll and vet my blog anon? 🤨). Third, even if they werent, why do i have to scroll someones blog for 10 minutes to make sure theyre Kosher to reblog from when im just trying to look at art on my 10min break at work THATS STUPID. Fourth if youre from twitter and trying to control what tumblr does instead of adapting to tumblr i think you should fail at an attempt to crosd a busy road

Augh :[

Yeah okay so maybe there are a lot mores sucky people then what I realized :[

Even then I feel people can have odd standards for what you should veto as well

Like, for the anon who accused me of being a dranti I should be checking the blogs I interact with, but me shipping Quackity and Dream was completely fine (funniest asks ever btw, I hope that anon is doing well)

For someone else I should not be following or reblogging art from people who ship dreamnoblade (which is, in my opinion, the most obvious post-pandora ship along with Drunz. Like. The chocolate ice-cream of dsmp ships)

Even if you tried you couldn't make your blog safe for everyone, and you shouldn't try!

But yeah, people who got used to the high control environment of twt can have a hard time disconnecting from those expectations and habits, but I think most of them need time and space

[eddiediazismyhusband]

I had to see it and suffer and now others must know as well. There is a gifset that one of T's fans made, I kid you NOT, the gifs of Buck they used are dead ass from the 'you wanna go for the title' kitchen scene with Eddie and then they added gifs of L from some show other than 911. And the comments are legit shit like...."I will never get over the way Buck looks at him' and 'oh that boy is so in love with his man' and 'that belt grab he wants him so bad' and the best of all...'as if he would ever look at anyone else including Eddie the way he's looking at Tommy here'

I can't

I'm legit terrified of these people. They absolutely know that is a Buddie scene and Buck is looking at and talking to Eddie in that scene. They've just decided to pretend and headcanon it as a BT scene. And have decided to gif it as if it's real! and tag it as their ship name. WHAT?!?! HOW THE HELL DID WE GET HERE!?!?! They're just out here straight up changing scenes to be about T and just expecting everyone to think that's normal. I'm terrified. This is cult level shit.

it absolutely is borderline cult activity from some of the fans.

now in the spirit of being fair it is not all of them, but the unfortunate fact is that the people coming across as having this cult-ish worship of tommy and lou ferringo jr are the loudest among them so we have to see their shit front and center.

i have blocked so many people and filtered out so many tags to prevent seeing that stuff bc at the end of the day it’s either just pure delusion or rage bait, so i’ve found best to ignore it and not give these people a platform.

i know it’s hard to, and i am definitely guilty of not ignoring some of the crazy stuff, but when you do it can relieve so much stress.

At this point (especially with clownery like that) it’s probably best to just block the user and ignore it… bc at that point, that’s just blatant stupidity that they’re watching buddie scenes and trying to act like it’s s scene between their ship 💀💀

i definitely understand it’s annoying to see and hear all the time but that’s why i stay away from fandom twitter and instagram, and keep my tumblr dash to strictly my mutuals/people i’ve intentionally followed… yes sometimes things leak through the cracks but it’s often much less impactful that intentionally seeking it out (if that makes sense)

just take a deep breath and keep your head up, anon. these people will be proven wrong sooner or later, we just need to be patient and ignore their bullshit the best we can 💕💕

[pray4saint]

Can I please have a tall latte with a dash of cinnamon with a cupcake and fortune cookie on the side? Thankyou

For the 100 follower celebration (congrats)

guest of honour

masterlist & descrip. pg-13. 13+. streamer!reader. ted nivison x reader. jschlatt x reader. mentions of alcohol, bongs, vapes and implied mention of weed.

a/n. tysm! here's your order anon :] (i did do these separately but if you wanted them together you can send another request! also i picked the prompts since you didn't add one)

prompts: ”you look stupid as fuck right now.” / ”that could be us.” ”that is us.” / ”can you repeat that? i don't think i heard you..” / ”my kiss?” ”right, sorry.”

ted

your fans knew you had a boyfriend, they knew he was also in content creation, they knew you loved him, and they knew he was always texting you during your streams. since he'd always been faceless, voiceless, and nameless, it was a shock for the viewers to see the door open and someone walk in, head cut off by the camera placement.

it was planned, to a degree.. you knew ted would show up on your stream, in your office but you didn't know when, and that's what made it fun. ”oh my god, hey babe!” you spun in your chair and got up to hug him, the height difference clear to all. and now your fans knew he was tall too. before you were able to get back to your seat, ted pulled you back to him. ”excuse me? sweetheart my kiss?” you smiled and got up on your tippy toes, ”right, sorry about that.” hands flat on his chest when you kissed him.

you walked back over to your desk to see how the viewers were taking the small interaction, and from how you were positioned leaning over your desk, ted was able to pad over next to you, still out of view of the camera. when you realised how close he was you pulled a chair away from the all beside yours and you sat down. ”oh chat did i mention my boyfriend was joining today?” you gave the camera a cheeky smile, watching as chat was still trying to put the voice to a face.

ted leaned down into frame before he sat down, smiling at the camera with a wave. the moment he sat down, he started a bit. ”do you have audio listeners?”

”no.”

”what a shame.” you rolled your eyes at him before pulling yourself towards the desk to move apps across your monitors. ”shit, almost..” your voice trailed off, neither ted nor your stream heard what you said and while it's easy to ignore chat's pleas, it's a little harder when it's your boyfriend. ”what was that angel?” you hum at him, question in the sound. ”can you repeat that? i don't think i heard you.”

this wasn't a bit, but it sure as hell was clipped a ton. ”i said,” you began, voice louder than it was most of the time. ”'shit, i almost leaked our discord dms.', happy?”

”very.”

schlatt

your boyfriend's fanbase knew of you, but they didn't know anything about you aside from that schlatt loved you. of course it had to come sooner or later, but after a long talk about the consequences, you'd talked each other into a deal for you to go on his stream with him.

for awhile schlatt streamed and you sat just off camera, looking at your phone and back up at him from time to time. it was something that your best friend had sent you that made you scrunch your face up, and your boyfriend noticed immediately. ”you look stupid as fuck right now.” it was the first time he'd acknowledged you were around on stream and his chat was freaking out. of course it didn't stop you from getting up and slapping his arm. ”ow. you're mean.” he didn't mean it, yet it only made you hit him again before you finally pulled your chair out to sit with him.

once chat had gotten a good look at you and you waved and said hello, schlatt pushed his phone up to the camera before giving it to you. ”hon' that could be us.” it was a picture of two cats; one holding a bong and two vapes while the other held a case of beer. ”j, baby that is us.” now you show the camera the picture of the cats and schlatt takes the opportunity of being hidden to press a quick kiss to your cheek, making you gasp.

”chat did you see that?! did you hear that?!” they all seemed confused as you went off on your tangent, face making the :o while schlatt's mouth twitched up into a smirk, bordering on the grin as you tattled on him to his viewers. ”he kissed me when you guys weren't looking!”

oh boy did twitter have a fun time over analysing the clip of the short kiss sound, trying to figure out if it was true.

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.