#my life and not contact you because you dont want me to

[nemesyaaa]

kxizkfkzkdke oh my god, the situation is so intense, it's feel like watching an action movie but with words stucked on papers (screen*) but anyways, that's so fucking fantastic. this is getting even more fun. but i love how they handle the case and this reader is amazing. she's offers us a good dynamic with rafe. that's so well-written, can't believe you're the same girl who feeds me with zach mclaren fics because this is truly two diff atmosphere. the light and the dark. 😩😩🫶🏿

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once. — this is just such a powerful line to introduce the second chapter ‼️

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth. — «They’d watch. They’d let him die. » I just think i dont feel good about this. my baby deserves some more love (I KNOW, he isn't a good guy but PLEASE, he went through a lot 😭😭😭)

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying. — the last line, I felt that so much. she never gonna forget about him, even if he's dead. and the fact, that she killed him with rafe make the situation less forgettable. this is so sad :((

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him. — but he's now your partners in crime. dont you dare screw him

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons. — ahh the selfishness IS back ‼️ no but rafe feeling the need to protect the reader ?? i'm in, I WANT TO SEE HOW torn he is it about this

the act of unravelling (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Rafe stands and looks down at the body, his fists clenched tightly. Reality is setting in now. He could go to prison. His future could be ruined.

He’s perpetually at the mercy of his impulsivity, thinking only of the minute he’s living in, burdened with the consequences later. But still, even with his head a little clearer, he doesn’t regret this.

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once.

You feel heavy as you push yourself up off the floor. You wish you could curl up in your bathtub under hot, gushing water, washing away everything that happened tonight.

The corpse is harder to look at with every second that passes. You glance up at Rafe, blood splattered on his face as he stares down at what he’d done, at what you’d done, chillingly unfazed.

“We can’t leave anything that’ll point back to me,” he mumbles, his voice low over the fireworks still crackling outside.

“Or me,” you have to remind him tensely.

His eyes land on yours. He’s always only looking out for himself. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to worry about someone else.

“I’m serious,” you urge. Your survival instinct rushes through you for the second time tonight. You refuse to let Rafe throw you to the wolves. “I saved your life. You owe me. I won’t take the fall for this.”

“Well, neither will I,” he snaps.

“You shot him.”

“I could say you did,” Rafe replies. “And it’d be your word against mine. What then?”

You scoff, in disbelief of his selfishness.

“I saved your life,” you repeat. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth.

“We’ll look out for each other, alright?” he relents, letting his guard down for a moment. “Let’s just clean this up.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again. You pull it out, seeing Pope’s name. Twelve missed calls.

You hope your friends don’t get so worried that they come up here, ignoring the Off Limits sign Porter had put up across the stairs. But they don’t know where you went. You’re almost certain.

“My friends keep calling me,” you whisper.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. His friends aren’t worrying about him.

“You can’t answer them,” he snaps.

“I know.” You let out a shaky sigh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “We have to be fast. What do we do? Do we bury him?”

Rafe takes a beat to think.

“We dump him in the ocean,” he finally says. “We go to the marina and drive my boat out far enough where nobody will find him.”

“How do we move him so nobody sees? We can’t go through the house. We might run into someone.”

Rafe looks to the glass door on the other end of the room, the balcony offering a view of the inky night sky.

“There,” he says. “We’ll push him off and put him in the back of my truck.”

You consider it. Of the limited options you have, it seems like the only one worth trying.

“Okay. We have to clean the blood off the floor,” you say. “And everything we touch needs to be wiped. Maybe there’s something with bleach in it around here?”

For the first time since you entered this room, you feel hope. There’s a chance, a real chance, you could get away with this. You look back at the desk Rafe ransacked.

“Pick that stuff up,” you say. Frustration rolls through him. He never liked being bossed around. “I’ll try to find something to clean with.”

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Rafe mutters.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you huff before you turn towards the door.

You tiptoe through the second story, peeking into a bathroom cupboard. When you find a spray bottle that reads Cleaner and Bleach on the packaging, you grab it and head back to the room.

You and Rafe move quickly and quietly, using clothes you found in the closet to wipe everything with bleach. After a loud, consonant cracking of fireworks that you assume is the grand finale, the show ends. And you know people are on their way back to the house.

The neighbor’s private beach can’t be that far away. You have a minute. Maybe two.

You’re glad Rafe thinks to find the shell of the bullet. He puts it in his pocket. You spray the bleach over the floor again, cleaning every drop of blood you can see.

“Tuck this stuff under his shirt,” you say breathlessly, handing Rafe the bottle and the blood-soaked clothes.

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying.

You pick the gun up off the floor, then open the balcony, relieved you can’t hear any voices yet. You peer over the edge to see the sandy ground. The balcony overlooks the side of the house, dark and secluded.

Rafe grunts as he drags the corpse out onto the balcony. You have to muster up every bit of strength you have as you help heave Porter’s body over the railing. He falls with a hard thud, facedown in the sand.

You have to jump the balcony. You can’t risk going downstairs. Rafe is wide-eyed as you hitch your leg over the railing, looking down with shaky breaths.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Let me go first. If you break something, we’re fucked.”

He shifts down as low as he can before letting his feet hang over the edge. He lets go, dropping hard, his ankles pinching with pain from the impact.

“Okay,” he says. “Go.”

You feel a splinter dig into your palm as you clutch onto the wooden railing with one hand while the other holds the gun. You make the split-second decision to keep the balcony door open to air out the smell of bleach.

You hope you cleaned away every drop of blood in the room. There’s no going back to it now.

You sink, hanging as low as you can, looking over your shoulder before you drop. Rafe’s arms wrap around you as your feet hit the ground, his chest hard against your back, breaking your fall.

“If someone comes,” he whispers in your ear, “run.”

Waiting for him to get his truck is torture. The humid night air presses against your face and you can’t bear to look down at the body on the ground.

Rafe returns and you move quickly, straining as you carry the body over the uneven terrain, the soles of your shoes slipping on the sand.

Once the body is in the trunk and Rafe unfolds the cover, blanketing the cab and concealing the evidence, you feel a shred less frightened.

You glance back into the darkness just in case. A glow of a phone screen is in the sand. Rafe is already behind the wheel, demanding that you get in, his voice carrying through the open rear window.

You feel for your phone. It’s still in your pocket.

“Do you have your phone?” you whisper.

He responds after a moment, “Yes. Get in.”

“I think his phone fell on the ground when we were carrying him,” you say. “We should–”

Faint laughs in the distance interrupt you. There’s no time to run back and get the phone without being seen.

“Get the hell in,” Rafe mutters angrily.

You obey, swinging open the door, barely closing it in time as Rafe peels away. Your muscles prick from the weight you’d just carried as you drive past the partygoers coming back from watching fireworks.

“Holy shit,” Rafe chuckles, near elated. “We did it.”

You stare ahead, your head foggy.

This will haunt you for the rest of your life. The thought forces a torrent of dread through you worse than you’ve ever felt before.

What if you’d run out of the room when Rafe and Porter came in? What if you’d left Rafe to deal with the body on his own?

What if you’d never gone upstairs?

You’re destined to agonize over the what if’s of tonight forever.

You gaze down at the gun in your lap and hold your hands out in front of you, skin stinging from the bleach. You’d wiped away the blood, but you think you’ll always see it on your hands.

You figure out that it’s a good thing you left Porter’s phone. If he was sharing his location, you’re sure the police could track where it was last before you threw it into the sea with him. They’d know exactly where to look for his body.

“We should shut off our phones,” you realize. “I think they can track GPS history from cell towers.”

Rafe digs into his pocket, glancing down to watch the screen go black.

“How’d you think of that?” he mumbles with a laugh. “Is this not your first time doing this, Pogue?”

“Nothing about this is funny,” you reply.

“Relax,” he says. “We got away with it.”

“You can’t be so sure,” you say. “One fingerprint in that room and…”

You can’t think about it.

In the paroxysm of emotions you’re already feeling, guilt digs a hole into your stomach when you see Pope’s most recent text before you power off your phone.

Answer the phone. We’re worried.

·········

The clock on Rafe’s dashboard reads 10:44 when you reach the marina. He parks right by the main dock. The place seems quiet, the water crowded with seemingly unoccupied boats.

“I’ll take a walk around to make sure we’re alone,” he says, pulling his key out of the ignition.

The car door slams shut and you’re left with a gun in your lap, a body in the trunk, and your tormenting thoughts.

Maybe you missed something back in that room.

You picture Porter’s phone lighting up in the sand. His last text to you said to come upstairs. When the cops inevitably start searching for answers, you’ll be questioned.

A minute later, Rafe swings open your door, pulling you out of your daze. You meet his glare, his hair tousled and sweaty.

“We’re good,” he says. “Move.”

Having to haul the body over the dock past darkened, quiet boats is unnerving. Ater you leave it at the back of Rafe’s boat, you stand behind him at the helm.

Your arms are crossed and the gun is tucked by your elbow, because if you learned anything tonight, it’s that you can’t trust anyone.

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him.

“I should wait in the car,” you mumble. Rafe shakes his head in frustration, driving the boat forward. The boat’s motor hums as you rock with its movements.

“No,” he mutters condescendingly. It reminds you of why underneath the stubborn pull you’ve always felt towards him, you’ve also harbored a quiet fear. Rafe is violent. Possibly enough to hurt you the same way Porter did.

You feel for the gun again. If two men have to die tonight, so be it. The fact that your mind went there chills you.

Rafe looks over at you, lips twisting in annoyance.

“Don’t feel bad for that asshole,” he mutters. “He asked for it.”

It’s the worst possible thing he could’ve said. Your throat is raw with the threat of tears. Asked for it. Would he say the same about what happened to you?

“I don’t regret it,” you tell him, sure that he’s assuming that that’s why you’re so tense. “I’m just worried we missed something.”

“If we did, nothin’ we can do about it now,” he says. You look ahead at the dark sea, moonlight shining over the water’s ripples.

“We need to figure our story out,” you say. “How’d you end up upstairs? Did anyone see you?”

“I stopped him while everyone was going outside to watch the show,” he recalls. “Told him to show me where he was keeping his coke because I heard he was selling again. It was loud. I don’t think anyone heard, but maybe someone saw. I don’t know.”

“Why do you sell?” you ask, face pinched in confusion. “Why did you even care that he was selling, too? You don't have enough money already?”

“I gotta keep your tips coming, don’t I?” he says smugly. You scoff, jarred by his blasé attitude, despising his cold arrogance.

He notices the angry scowl on your face. He’s convinced he’ll never break through the hatred you have for him.

“I want to make my own money. That’s why,” he admits. It’s half the truth, but it’s good enough.

It’s surprising to hear that Rafe, a man you thought coasted on the wealth he was born into, possesses a work ethic. Even though he uses it to deal drugs.

“Did anyone see you go upstairs?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you say.

“Why were you there?”

You chew on your lip, the truth sitting on your chest like a ton of bricks. There’s no point in telling him. He thinks your motive was the same as his. Money. And you’ll let him believe it.

Besides, talking about it now, merely an hour afterwards, will only make you cry again and your head is pounding from how much you’ve already wept tonight. How could you possibly say it out loud?

“To buy pot. Then I smoked too much and passed out.” You keep talking before he can ask anything else. “Are we far out enough?”

Rafe looks back to make sure the marina is out of sight before he kills the engine.

Pushing Porter’s body over the guardrail is harder than the other times you’d carried him tonight. The water is rocking the boat so much now that you’re far into the ocean. Your breath is strained as you heave him over the metal, his body hitting the water with a loud splash under the bright moon.

Rafe pulls out the bullet shell in his pocket and tosses it in the water. You know you have to throw the gun in, too. It’s hard to. But you do it.

Rafe looks over the edge now that everything is sinking to the bottom, his forearm brushing against yours. He notices how quickly you jerk away, refusing to let him touch you. The pull he feels towards you is obviously one-sided. Your eyes flit away when you look at him.

“You have blood on your face,” you tell him soberly. His temper flares, feeling stupid for thinking a girl could feel anything but afraid of him after he shot someone right in front of her. Even though she was the one who told him to do it.

You might have a deadly thirst for revenge in common, but that’s where the similarities end. He stalks past you to wash himself off in the bathroom below the deck.

You let out a shaky breath. The unexpected contact with Rafe startled you. After tonight, you’re sure you’ll always be scared to be around men you don’t know all that well. Even the ones that seem decent are just lions in sheep’s clothing. The monster that proved that to you is below the ocean’s surface now.

You look into the murky water, and despite the fear and the anxiety and dread weighing on your heart, you’re glad that this is how it ended. Porter paid the ultimate price for what he did to you. He doesn’t deserve to live, to smile, to feel anything ever again.

·········

You and Rafe sit behind the hull, the boat swaying with the tide. You start to piece together an alibi and decide to admit you were upstairs together. If even one person says they saw either one of you go up there, you won’t be caught in a lie.

As you talk, Rafe can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re clearly scared, but trying to stay level-headed. He doesn’t get how you do it. He’s always been bad at keeping his mind steady. He never had a reason to even try.

“So, I went up first after he texted me to come buy from him,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. “I got high and passed out. Then you came up with him to find his stash. We’re obviously going to have to come clean about the drugs.”

“What do you mean obviously?”

“You’re going to be a suspect the second the police start talking to people,” you tell him. “Everyone knows you had an issue with him. And why. You can’t lie about the coke. And they’ll have evidence that I was buying weed from him. We have to be honest about it. They’ll find out anyway.”

Rafe sighs, knowing you’re right.

You hug yourself as a cool breeze carries over the water. The weakness in your gaze reminds Rafe of the way you’d cried on the floor earlier tonight. Before all this, he only ever saw you as strong-willed and sharp-tongued.

Even though calming a man like Rafe down when he’s angry sounds like it’d be impossible, you figure it’s the only direction your alibi can go.

“We’ll say I talked you down and…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t make sense that we’d stay up there. I think we say we left him in his room and sat on the beach alone in front of the house to watch the fireworks from there.”

You worry it’s not enough. You’re certain that no one who knows either one of you would buy that you voluntarily spent time together.

“Maybe the cops would believe we hung out,” you mumble, “but nobody else would.”

Rafe stills. His friends like to give him crap about how much time he spends talking to you when he supposedly hates Pogues. If he told them he was with you all night, they’d say they saw it coming.

“They could,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“My friends would never believe it,” you scoff. He purses his lips, pissed off at your tone, at the clear implication that you talk shit about him with your friends.

“It’s our only option,” he mutters sharply.

“You’re right,” you give in. “Then what? We went home before people got back? I guess that way if anyone saw us leave together, we have it covered.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “That’s the story.”

“Okay. It’s not great, but it’s the best we can do.” You check your phone for the time, only to remember it’s turned off. “Can you drive me home now? I’ll say my phone died. You should do the same when people ask where you’ve been.”

Rafe doesn’t admit to you that nobody was checking up on him, that nobody ever does. He only stands up to drive back to the dock.

·········

Your first priority when you get home is to text your friends, guilt consuming you now that it’s been over two hours since you last saw them and they have no idea what happened to you.

You turn on your phone to see a string of missed calls and texts from the guys. You open the group-chat and type: I’m so sorry. I’m okay. Got too high and lost track of time. Home now.

They video call you to be sure that you really made it home safe, drunkenly rambling on about how they assumed you went to see the fireworks early, leaving them to search the neighbor’s beach for you.

As you listen to them talk over each other on the phone, it’s the first time you see your reflection since you left the house, when you were oblivious to the fact that the impending hours would change you forever.

You can see it in your eyes that you’re not the same. You can only hope that they don’t catch on.

·········

It’s been three days. You haven’t been sleeping. You’ve hardly been eating. And no matter how many times you tell yourself there’s no use in thinking about how different the night could have turned out, it doesn’t stop your head from spinning into hypotheticals.

All you told your friends was that you were with a boy and that they didn’t need to know any more. Because they all see you as a sister, they were happy to be spared the details.

If only they knew. A few nights ago, you promised them you wouldn’t talk about Rafe ever again. You never would’ve thought the reason would be because you’d committed a crime together.

You’re back at work. Smiling and chatting and serving drinks and acting like everything is fine is harder than you expected.

The thought of seeing Rafe again is oddly comforting. No matter how twisted it is, you have a bond now, held together by secrecy and shared trauma. He’s the closest to knowing what you’re going through.

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons.

No matter how unhinged he is, having someone like him in your corner is comforting after what you’d suffered through.

You spot Rafe sitting alone at the near empty club bar on your way out and your heart settles, but when you catch a glimpse of the flatscreen mounted on the wall a moment later, it drops. You knew it was inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any better.

Rafe swallows bitter whiskey, gazing up at the tv. Under a photo of Porter reads MISSING as his parents speak to the press. What if he went missing? Who’d care? What would his dad say – at least it wasn’t Sarah?

He looks down at the bartop. The thrill of what he did has faded. It’s not a surprise. His life is nothing but a cycle of short-lived highs.

When he sees the look on Porter’s parents’ faces on the tv, jealousy and loneliness screw a hole into his heart. He knows it’s fucked up to envy the man he killed. He doesn’t care.

His eyes drift over the bar to see you standing on the other end. You’re in shock as you stare up at the broadcast, looking guilty as hell. He glares at you until you finally meet his eyes.

Rafe curtly gestures to you to sit next to him. Even though he looks mad, you’re relieved to close the distance between you.

“You’re being obvious,” he says quietly once you sit next to him, an edge to his tone.

You look back to see only a few other people sitting in the restaurant area behind you, far from earshot. You won’t be heard, but you both know you have to speak vaguely just in case.

“Someone I know is missing,” you reply. “It’s normal to be worried about that.”

“What do you know about normal?” he scoffs.

You lock eyes, sure that you’re both replaying the night in your minds, sure that you’re both far from sane after what you did. His gaze is cold, a reflection of how angry he is that you’re not handling what happened as well as he is.

“Great talking to you,” you snip sarcastically, shifting to stand up.

“Wait,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at you again, this time with a bit of the hardness in his eyes gone. “We need to talk.”

next >

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[snixx]

i miss stupid rafaela

[baalzebufo]

some additional doodles and a Lot of Headcanons... sorry if im spamming these a little bit. ive got so many thoughts in my head, lmao

theres my older pacifica- after weirdmageddon, her and gideon become friends. theyre both sort of ostracized from the town as a whole bc of their past attitudes/actions so they cling together and become buds. its nice having someone else who 'gets' it.

pacifica moved out as soon as she could to get away from her folks and has a job at a local mall. gideon enables her to enjoy at least SOME of her old luxuries by taking her shopping and to get their nails done together and stuff. also his prison buddies help ''kindly persuade'' her parents not to break her enforced no-contact rule from time to time. i know the two have the bitchiest gossip in the entire town together. sometimes when its hard to be 'nice' they know they can at least vent to the other and they wont get judged for it, yknow?

also some backstory doodles! he was a Normal Kid, Once. or close enough to it. gideon was a sickly child and was sheltered and homeschooled for most of his life. the gleefuls moved from texas to oregon when he was about seven (yes i know this breaks canon a little. its fine shh.) and he found journal 2 shortly after. things went downhill from there

other notes. he's always kept his hair long, but used to either let it down or tie it into a long braid. he very briefly attended a public school and he didnt fare very well there (fat kid + albino + 'girly' + general weird interests is basically painting a massive target on your back) he used to stay up and watch late night televangelists when he couldnt sleep in hospital and copped his aesthetic from there

sorry this post is so long i have a lot of thoughts about him </3

[straycalamities]

heyyy. how was truffula flu supposed to end? who died? were there any planned events?

i dont even know how to accurately answer this anymore because of reasons and things other than: there's an old list of endings a couple of the writers of a few characters gave said character here

beanpole, one-ler, and rocky's are all still accurate and relevant as far as i know, but swag's is severely outdated and not true anymore

well i know rocky's is stlil accurate because we were so set and ready for it. it was supposed to be the very next big plot point before the blogs died. big shame it never happened because it was going to be epic.

last i heard 72 and ted's endings were set to be changed from what i knew them as. audrey's and dave's i won't reveal for my own reasons. and i never planned an ending for entre and that continues to be true.

we had at least (other than rocky's) two more big plot arcs to cover. honestly i think the RV/Stripmall arc was sorta the beginning of a snowball to an ending of sorts, but it never truly got rolling.

[assmaster-8000]

can we honestly e date? you’re so beautiful. You always make me laugh, you always make me smile. You literally make me want to become a better person... I really enjoy every moment we spend together. My time has no value unless its spent with you. I tell everyone of my irls how awesome you are. Thank you for being you. Whenever you need someone to be there for you, know that i’ll always be right there by your side. I love you so much. I don’t think you ever realize how amazing you are sometimes. Life isn’t as fun when you’re not around. You are truly stunning. I want you to be my soulmate. I love the way you smile, your eyes are absolutely gorgeous. If I had a star for everytime you crossed my mind i could make the entire galaxy. Your personality is as pretty as you are and thats saying something. I love you, please date me. I am not even calling it e dating anymore because I know we will meet soon enough heart OK I ADMIT IT I LOVE YOU OK i hecking love you and it breaks my heart when i see you play with someone else or anyone commenting in your profile i just want to be your girlfriend and put a heart in my profile linking to your profile and have a walltext of you commenting cute things i want to play video games talk in discord all night and watch a movie together but you just seem so uninsterested in me it hecking kills me and i cant take it anymore i want to remove you but i care too much about you so please i’m begging you to eaither love me back or remove me and never contact me again it hurts so much to say this because i need you by my side but if you dont love me then i want you to leave because seeing your icon in my friendlist would kill me everyday of my pathetic life.

Happy birthday Lázaro!

Happy birthday to our hand-stabbing diva! 💜🎉 Can't wait to show you more of them in the Extended demo! 😏

[gremzon]

I might have OCD actually

[natandacat]

The notes are so funny bc here are the 'downsides of being an only child' that are literally not unique to being an only child and more of a parenting/situational thing really:

- "It's lonely!/Siblings are built-in friends!" One of my brothers played with me out of a sense of necessity because we were not allowed to be with other kids and he deeply resented me for that, which made for a bad relationship and me being extremely alone all the time anyway. I'd rather have skipped the hatred (on his part) and heart break (on mine) and gone directly to playing alone. I have literally never had an intimate conversation with any of my 3 brothers (except literally One time with one of them) but I've had countless of horrid fights (with me or witnessed). Hell is other people, etc.

- "All the attention is suffocating!" I was monitored 24/7 and pretty much never left alone, up to a point where my bathroom time was also monitored. My brother actively and voluntarily participated in the monitoring at some points.

- "You get unconditional support as an adult!" I've been in a lot of trouble since I was 17 and they've never helped, not materially or emotionally.

-"You have more people to build happy memories with!" My brother got married 3 days before I was back in the country (he set the date way after I had bought my plane tickets and also he actively chose to hide it from me) and still blames me for being upset because "it was a ceremony for closed loved ones only anyway" (I guess I wasn't counted!). That's just the most egregious examples in a long, long list.

I get grass is greener ect but what bothers me is that it reinforces the idea that sibling relationships are *always* a net positive, in a very "nuclear family is sacred" way

Like I'm not venting for the sake of it, I've been no contact for 4 years and it's great, I'm just frustrated that it's so goddamn hard to get people to acknowledge sibling abuse, or even get them to *not* perform shocked incredulity at the idea. Especially on tumblr, THE website where people talk about parental abuse all the time and understand that sometimes you really cannot salvage the relationship and it truly is detrimental

All I'm saying is stop assuming that things would be better with a sibling around. You don't know that! Believe me, things could be so much worse with a sibling around.

The good news is you get to choose your friends and siblings as an adult! :) Life can be sweet not matter who your nuclear family is! You're not a failure for not experiencing the hegemonic ideal of siblinghood! It's okay!

[majimaisms]

do u even understand. what farsighted majima is doing to me. ive BEEN wondering about this specifically. and now i have my answer and its. awful. like oh my god he talks about it so calmly as if hes not FREAKING the fuck out. GUY WHO FIGHTS MELEE AND IS ALREADY VISUALLY IMPAIRED

[inniave]

messy phone demo written while trying to keep myself from absolutely fucking losing it :)

lyrics below the cut

i feel you in me all the time it really makes me want to die how long must a body remember and how much longer to forget the things it grew up with in and around (in and around)

torn into pieces then glued together once more over and over its the only thing im good for

you wanted to keep me small, you said so, easy to hold with my screams and my sobs and my cries and my 8 year old self that wanted to die and all the parts i learned to hide (deep inside)

i dont think i can do this i am so very scared the skin splits on my knuckles, my fist the pain comes like a flare

because i feel you in me all the time and it really really makes me want to die i’ll never make it out, will i? i’ll never make it out, i want to die

[mbat]

honestly my biggest wonder about yesterdays drama was like... who even was that? not the person being called out, but the one calling them out. like, its one thing to make a throwaway to make a callout post, but to go on anon and try to pull unrelated people into it? this was clearly someone still in the taleblr server since they had screenshots from literally the same day in their callout

this isnt me taking sides because genuinely i have more important things to worry about than all that, but its different when it comes to this person because like... i just thought yall were different than that? maybe we all dont totally consider eachother friends entirely but i liked to think we were all somewhere around there for the most part

theres only so many of us and we all try to stay chill (to more or less success) because like... theres probably less than 100 of us left, and we're all adults by now as far as i know, and i know age doesnt really equal maturity, but its just so immature to try and stir drama by messaging unrelated parties.

honestly even if the person told me in private who they were its not like id make shit worse by posting about them or something because, again, i have bigger things to worry about, im just curious at this point. its not even an obligation for them to come forward, im just admitting that im curious.

if anything all i have to say is be the bigger person and block and move on when you dont like someone or something someone did. i get that you saw stuff that you found gross and you wanted everyone to feel the same way you did, but the rest of us just want to live our lives. plus i think the people that were messaged arent even in the discord so it was honestly even weirder to do that

ive had my fair share of seeing things that made me feel gross to see or read or know about, like, seriously i found out one of my friends was a pedo last year (and i promptly blocked the cunt). but it doesnt do anything to pull other people into the mess and try to start shit.

basically, just be more mature, cause i know yall are better than that. you dont have to read fics that you dont like, and you dont have to interact with people you dont like. your online experience is yours and the best option is always to block and move on. ive had my fair share of drama, and all it does is ruin peoples days, and not much else.

my biggest point, honestly, is that this is such a small fandom and i dont want whats left to come crashing down because some drama makes everyone left hate it here. i dont care whos right or wrong because literally whatever its internet drama, i just dont want this community to die out.

[mechanicalbowtye]

read the scratch upd8. little too close to home

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[timiddot]

i need a new job but im disabled and autistic and i cant drive and ive only ever worked one job before the one i currently work and i don't have any college and the job market is so bad right now i don't know what to do at all i just need to make more money but i'm completely fucking drained mentally and physically from my current shitty job that isn't even that hard i'm just weak to the point where i don't have the energy to look for other jobs and my fucking computer is kinda broken and i really want to work a remote job but i can't with my computer like that and i don't know what to do but i can't keep earning fucking $9 an hour with like 20 hours a week but i can't work another retail job or i think i will genuinely lose my mind more than i already have and that therapist hasn't gotten back to me and i don't know what to fucking do at all i am so lost i just want it all to be fucking over!!!! AND IM SICK HAHAHA FUCK ME !

[skinnymeanfaggot]

also

[salsflore]

been almost 3 yrs and i am still struggling with the whole mikachi first meeting thing. bye

[arcalian]

.