#of fucking blown up hospitals and fucking dead kids.

[notahorseindisguise]

fuck dude. the more i find out sbout world news the more i wanna fucking die. like. fuck.

[scaryscarecrows]

Nicole doesn’t like the hospital smell. Nobody does, she guesses, but Gotham hospitals have an extra underlying something. Chemicals, maybe, she’s not sure. It’s worse than normal hospitals.

The locals don’t seem to notice. Or maybe they just don’t know. Why would they? They live in Crazy Town, USA. Most of them were born here. Most of them will die here, too.

She wants to go home and hide, but Cobblepot made her bring Dove a briefcase and flowers, pink and yellow daisies. Why he couldn’t come down here is a who-knows thing, but whatever, fine, here.

Dove’ll be out tomorrow, probably. She’s here now, though, because Scarecrow. Scarecrow happened. He and Cobblepot had a falling-out or something. Nicole’s not sure, she wasn’t at work last night. All she knows is that three people are dead and twelve are in the hospital from fear toxin, Dove included.

“Hi.”

“Hey, hon.” She sounds awful, hoarse and and raw, and she sure as hell doesn’t look okay. Her wrists are bound up, both of them, and her pupils are blown wide. She’s sallow and shaky and wrong, somehow. “Cobblepot send ya?”

“Yeah. He said he was too busy to come himself.”

“He hates hospitals--ohhh, those are pretty.”

Nicole sets the flowers down first. Hovers the briefcase around a little next before settling into one of the chairs. She can stay for a few minutes. That’s okay, right? Expected? Nice? She’s pretty sure Dove would stay if it was her.

“He sent this, too,” she mumbles. “Um. Are you. Are you okay?”

“Not my first run-in,” Dove says, but her voice is flat like she’s not okay at all. “Shit’s nasty. They caught him yet?”

“No.”

She closes her eyes for a second, looks caught between being impossibly older and...and a scared little girl.

“You weren’t there last night, were you.”

“Uh-uh--”

“Sir--”

“Sir, you can’t--”

“Oh, God--”

What the hell?

Nicole’s about to...she doesn’t know. Panic, she guesses. Hide. Run. Something. She’s about to do something when the thump-thump of heavy boots rounds the corner and a nurse skitters back into the room, still protesting that, “You don’t have permission to be here--”

She’s followed, a second later, by a familiar, ominous shadow. It might be daytime, but the Red Hood is still scary. He’s big and probably pissed and those look like bloodstains on his jacket. But he’s not here for murder. Nicole would be happy to never cross paths with him again, just in case, but she’s pretty sure he’s not here for murder.

“Hood?” Dove blinks at him. “Hood, it’s fucking noon. It is way past your bedtime.”

He doesn’t answer, just shuffles to the other chair and plunks himself onto it, hands clasped between his knees and shoulders hunched inwards.

“I got ‘im,” he breathes. “Bullock showed up ta. Ta take ‘im back ta Arkham, but I got ‘im.”

Dove stills. When she finally speaks, her voice is scarcely above a whisper.

“Did you.”

He nods. A second later, he’s being pulled to the edge of the chair as Dove squeezes him and starts sobbing into his chest. It’s an awkward reach for both of them, and Hood seems oddly alarmed, but all he does is hug her back and mumble, “‘ve got blood--he had people an’ I--I guess it’s a hospital anyway, huh?”

Had people. Are they dead now? Seems likely.

Dove’s quiet, raspy sobs taper off and she draws back. Her face is a red, blotchy mess but honestly, she looks a little better than she did earlier.

“You’re a good kid,” she forces out. She sounds like she’s been chugging molasses mixed with gravel. “Don’t you let. Let anyone tell you different.”

“Eh.” He shrugs. Nicole has the hilarious mental image of this hulking Jason Voorhees-looking man (shut up, she doesn’t know what he looks like under there) blushing like a tomato. Maybe with red ears. “Y’know. You’re. You’re okay, right? You’re not...nothin’...”

Dove blows her nose and coughs, fumbles for her water bottle.

“I go home tomorrow,” she says at last. “Back to work next week.”

[v-era-18]

Red Licorice

Chapter Nine: Bloody Press 

“One day you’ll fucking regret crossing the wrong bitch Weathers! And there’ll be no fucking flowers on your grave!” - (Y/n) (L/n)

9

The smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs filled the Riley kitchen with a surge of hope for a new day. The atmosphere was warm in comparison to the other night that will surely be remembered for the rest of their lives.  Mrs. Riley had made it her priority to fill the kids stomachs as much as possible before the day got started. They needed some sense of normalcy before heading into the school doors. The campus was already swamped with the press, there was no doubt that the students were restless as well. 

“I know they let you guys have a day off yesterday but do think you should stay home,” 

Tatum dug into her pancakes with a grimace, “Your objection is duly noted.” 

The girl had preferred if they didn't talk about what could happen at school today. The cheer team had blown up the house phone non-stop yesterday to talk about Sid and (N/n). She understood the curiosity and the drive for gossip, but privacy was what was needed for the both of them at the moment. There were lines even she didn't cross when she had enough sense. 

Although her best friend wasn’t showing any signs of fear she could sense it wafting off of her. And who could blame her, with the killer calling again the other night saying she had pointed the finger at the wrong guy again? The Cotton Weary case is still being talked about even with the serial killer at large, and it did truly make her wonder if the man truly did kill Sidney’s mother. 

The town talks alot about drama and rumors, and Tatum has heard a thing or two in regards to Mrs Prescott during cheerleading practices here and there, but it wasn't something she would rely back to her best friend. She didn't want her best friend to think she was  gossiping about her family, that simply is horrid. 

“I want to be around a lot of people, mama Reily,” Sidney mustered up a smile, “Plus I want to see how (Y/n) is doing today. I should've called but I wanted her to be able to process everything going on.” 

It was mainly the truth. The other reason she didn't call is because she would feel inclined to tell her the phone call she received the other night from the killer in question. (Y/n)’s names rolled off that sick man's tongue as if it was second nature— a blessing to be able to utter it. And the possessive crossroads of his tone with calling her his— Sidney could only shiver at the thought. 

As if sensing her discomfort, Tatum placed a hand on her shoulder. She too was worried for the girl, but she was with someone who didn’t have family around her right now. There were still no signs of Sidney’s dad according to the police officers and not to mention she was practically alone due to having no mother. One that was brutally murdered. Just like her alibi was the other night. 

Whoever this man was needed to be stopped before he could do further harm. 

“She's fine Sid,” Tatum tried to reassure, “Stu went to visit her yesterday to make sure she was alright.” 

Sidney's eyebrows shot up at the news, “Stu went to visit? Where was her Aunt?” 

“He said something about her not having enough hours at the hospital. I wonder what's going on,” The strawberry blonde pursed her lips in worry, “You don't think they're running out of money do you? I thought their house was fully paid off. Or do you think something happened with CPS—” 

A whack to the head was sent over by Mama Reily in response. In the morning gossip wasn't allowed at the table…only at dinner time. 

“Now don't you go talking bad about that woman! She works a lot harder than alot of people in this town trying to provide for (Y/n),” The mother placed the fresh stack of pancakes just in time as Dewy rushed in his brown shirt of his uniform untucked from his trousers. “I still remember the night that the girl's parents were pronounced dead with no leads. It had to have been an armed robbery, but who honestly would be that desperate for money and kill a loving husband and wife.” 

The town knew about how Gia (L/n) immediately took up the task of taking care of (L/n) after her brother's murder. She made sure (Y/n) was always on time for school, had the best packed lunches and even made sure the girl had enough movies and comics to keep herself occupied. As an aunt she was still considered young even though she was only twenty nine years old at the time. She worked day shifts when the girl was younger and switched to night shifts recently when (Y/n) turned sixteen. 

Gia has been giving (Y/n) the world as much as she can. There's only so much you can do to give someone who has unfairly lost their parents.  

It was honestly disrespectful the way the town looked down upon them with no man in the home. It was a mindset that needed to be changed that had a male running the home and the woman at times to stay with the children. The fact that Gia wasn’t married and had no husband was a jab here and there the Woodsboro housewives would talk about. But it seemed like Gia didn’t mind or wasn’t worried about that fact. In fact she took strides in it. 

Sidney wrinkled her nose in distaste at the memory of Billy coming to her house with a bloody nose one afternoon to study over her house. Her concern for him was genuine at first then shattered when she learned what it was for. 

“Billy! What happened?!” Sidney followed the Loomis boy down the hall to her bathroom with a towel in hand. Her body was rigid from the sight of her boyfriend's nose bleeding on the white tiles floor.  

Billy simply grabbed the towel out of the girl's hand wetting it underneath the sink, “Some dipshits were talking about (Y/n) and Gia. I had to put them in their place.” 

Sidney’s eyebrows creased in agitation, “You got into a fight over (Y/n)? Why would you even-“ 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

The silence in the bathroom was deafening. All she could do was take in the boys' aloof expression as if he did nothing wrong. And in a way he didn’t-although the bruises and busted up knuckles said otherwise. 

At the moment she shouldn’t be thinking about that. She should be thinking of a way to gain evidence against a convicted murderer who was coming after her and (Y/n). Since she was proven wrong she would at least need to apologize to Billy-her own boyfriend for causing him. 

But her gut. It was telling her something wasn’t right. 

 “You don't think it could've been the man that attacked them do you? He does seem a bit obsessed with (Y/n). Do you think he sees her as ‘the one that got away’?” Tatum theorized, she missed the way Sidney tuned back in from messing with her pancakes on the plate. 

“That wouldn't make any sense,” Sidney muttered, mouth full, “(Y/n) was home with her grandmother when it happened. They were walking home from date night when they were killed on the street corner-two different places. The killer wouldn't even be considered a suspect because (Y/n) never saw him.” 

“Aw thats right….maybe he's a weirdo that likes her because.. she's —ya know—-” 

Mama Reily gasped, “Tatum-”

“What—?”

“There's no talking like that in this house! I taught you better than that!” 

The blonde sent a nervous expression her way, “I wasn't saying that in a bad way. Her race is very beautiful—” 

Sidney nudged her roughly, before quickly changing the subject, “H-hey Dewy what do you think? Is it possible the case involving (Y/n)’s parents should be opened back up? Especially since the man has an obsession with her.” 

Dewey frowned, his mustache bristled with crumbs from the jelly toast he ate. “Hell if I know. The case was first introduced when I was simply a rookie, armed robbery happens all the time, nothing abnormal. And the street corner they treat didn't have cameras or witnesses. I will admit-,” The phone rang in the living room drawing their attention, he held up a finger, “I will admit that something doesn't seem right about it though. Something happened more than an armed robbery. I just can't prove it.” The deputy went to answer the phone letting the news blare into the kitchen cutting off the awkward tension. 

“-This is not the only thing that this reporter has in story for you in regards to Sidney Prescott, who escaped the vicious attack last night  was the daughter of Maureen Prescott who was brutally killed last year when convicted murderer Cotton Weary broke into their home and savagely raped and tourchred the deceased. Cotton Weary is now currently awaiting an appeal for the death sentence handed down after the young Sidney testified against him. She was the key witness to the states prosecution-” 

“It's never gonna stop. Is it?” Sidney frowned at her pancakes. 

Tatum started to rub her friends back in comfort until Dewey emerged from the living room off the phone. 

“Turns out Billy was released yesterday without my knowledge. His phone records were clean. He didn't make those calls to you guys the other night.” 

Sidney looked utterly baffled and upset with the news, “Somebody called us Dewey! Me and (Y/n) aren't making it up!” 

“I know,” Dewey reassured, well at least attempted, “We're checking every cell tower in the county for a ping around the time the call happened. Any calls made to you, (Y/n), and Casey are being cross referenced. Now it's going to take time, but we'll find him.” 

Hopefully. 

“And my dad?”

The male only shook his head in guilt. 

“Breaking news! From the press papers this very afternoon written by none other than our latest news reporter Gale Weathers, has called it the latest ‘break in the case’ in concerns of Casey Becker and (Y/n) (L/n)! As you all know Casey Becker was murdered Tuesday August and Miss (L/n) was attacked by the same killer only forty eight hours ago. The paper has pointed to Becker having romantic feelings for her best friend and tried her best with keeping it a secret going as far as to document her feelings in a diary. The papers this morning have shared entries of evidence of possible fingers being pointed in many directions of who could be responsible behind these crimes-” 

“What the hell?” Tatum stood up along with Sidney in shock. 

Casey had feelings for (Y/n)?

“ Although Miss Weathers  has said it is very unlikely that Miss (L/n) is a suspect behind these crimes we cannot ignore the fact the killer has interest in her and even pointed out the murder of her parents many years ago that was ruled to be ‘armed robbery’-” 

“Oh my god,” Dewey ran out the door onto the steps to grab the morning paper. He fumbled to unroll it at a fast pace as Tatum and Sidney came up behind him watching the man's face go from shock to utmost horror. “Oh my god. Every entry from Becker's diary is here.” 

“Why is she doing this? Isn't it a crime to publish evidence like this-” 

“Yes—no—well—”

“Yes or no it's a simple answer Dewey!” Tatum hissed, snatching the paper from her brother's hands, “How did they even get it out this fast?! Did they work overnight?” 

The older Riley seemed at a loss for words. There was no way that a publishing company would work late at night willingly unless the details were that good or if they were going to be paid a hefty sum for the trouble. Dewy’s bet was on the ladder. 

Still he couldn't believe the work done in front of him. What kind of sick story was this? And who in their right mind would hand over the diary for Weathers to take it to the printing press? The male frowned to himself in disappointment; he thought he would have a chance with the women after their discussion yesterday in the department hallway. He’s not a jealous man of course, but seeing officer Montana come up behind her and lead her out the door-. 

Dewey paused, staring at the scene as Tatum started screaming and hollering in agony in the living room. Sidney was trying to calm her friend down but the teenager was inconsolable. 

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” Tatum rocked herself back and forth in her mother's arms as her mascara ran down her face in unruly ways, “ Why couldn't he tell me the truth! I knew he wanted her! What does she have that I don't?! What does (Y/n) have?!”   

“Tatum,” Sidney hovered over her friend uneasily. 

The strawberry blonde turned to her best friend in fury, her eyes were wide and bloodshot, her face matching her hair. She was scanning her friend's face widely, taking in her cautious approach and uneasy eyes. She could tell what Sidney was thinking-she didn’t have to even say it. 

Yes. She was inevitably jealous of (Y/n) and the fact she was unaware Stu was wrapped around her finger. And she fucking hated it. 

It wasn’t like she could copy everything the girl did. She watched every horror movie with him, gave great sex, sometimes she would dress down like the girl in order to get longer glances, only to see the disappointment behind his eyes shortly after. She didn’t understand. Did she have to fully change her appearance? 

Tatum didn’t have to say it out loud her actions in the past as well as now we're telling enough that she practically wanted to be her. She was mortified and terribly embarrassed. 

“Did you know?” She directed to Dewey. 

“Tatum—'' Mrs Riley tried again to pull her daughter to the hallway. 

“No! Did you know?! My own flesh and blood about what happened in that diary?!” 

The living room grew tense by the minute as the Riley siblings looked at one another. Slowly Dewey tried to approach his sister only for her to take a few steps back in return. It was a hurtful sight but honestly what else could be said at that very moment? This has quickly changed from precessional to personal. 

Dewey shuffled on his feet awkwardly, “Tatum-“

“Did. You. Know?” 

The older male let out a huff. Before letting out the words he knew he was going to regret. “Yes” 

It was then and only then did Tatum Riley lose her fucking mind. 

~ ☿ ~

Bus rides were usually so loud and obnoxious to the point where (Y/n) would be able to tune it out, but today…it seemed like the world had other plans. The moment she stepped on the bus along with the others on her street it seemed like the whole atmosphere grew strained, heavy she even dared to think. 

One of Casey’s fellow cheerleaders, Autumn, had insisted she sit with her while Jonah sat in the other seat beside them like it was some sort of protection protocol of some kind. She knew about Jonah’s girlfriend although she heard more about her from Casey’s point of view. They did have their moments here and there when discussing what was best for the team and (Yn) had to listen so she wouldn’t blow up at the wrong moment.

She would glare to stop other people from talking to her ‘which in itself wasn't normal’. Otherwise the conversation seemed fair, she asked how she was doing and what she had got on her recent exam in English. The girl was so tired in all honesty, but she was able to get some studying in for the history exam that’s for today's quick quiz. If the teacher was lucky she 

Sure people would talk and bother her from time to time on an average day, but this day seemed different. Their eyes were bugging out in desperation for answers like she was the only one who had them. 

Upon arriving at the school it was no surprise the press was all lined up harassing students for their teenage mindset with a serial killer on the loose. It wasn't like they were going to miss out on a scoop like this. She could see the headlines in next Thursday's newspaper; “Teens Thoughts on Horrid Murder of their dear Classmates”. 

The one thing that worried her was the cameras and whispers going on around her whenever she walked passed. There was a reporter here and there that would ask her random questions about Casey and their relationship. Or if “the murder seemed familiar” “did it seem like he was only targeting teens”.  

The one thing that stuck out to her was the mention of a diary. As soon as the question left the reporter's mouth Autumn had steered her in another direction and flipped the man off. 

They made their way through the courtyard after that, students whispers of gossip getting louder and louder with each step to the front doors. It was twisting the girl's stomach in knots with how the stares seemed to clawing at her. She could only imagine how Sidney felt since they were in the same situation, although the girl had gone through the same thing only a year before with her mother's murder. 

Bad luck was following the both of them. They were now dealing with two different scandals and murders on their backs. Talk about trauma bonding. 

Autumn suddenly shoved a girl out of (Y/n)’s permitter a scowl on her face, “Move along Candace! She doesn't need your craving to solicit gossip.” 

The tall cheerleader popped her gum with an eyebrow raised. Kandace was one of Casey's favorites and made sure to tell (Y/n) to go to her with any issues if she wasn't around. Just by the look of her she could see why. Jean short skirt, with a cropped airbrushed tee and new balance sneakers to tie everything together. Her long locs casted over her shoulders and rested along her front nicely. She was pretty by the current beauty standards, but regarding her soul it radiated big sister energy. 

Kandace simply gave what would be assumed a sympathetic smile her way. Her hands were raised up in surrender, “I'm not trying to start anything. It won't do any good after everything she’s experiencing. My only solid remorse is that I couldn't give our dear cheer mate some advice to snag her-“

“(Y/n),” Autumn cut off the girl quickly, “why don’t you go ahead? I think I see Randy over by your locker.” 

This caused (Y/n) to immediately snap her head in the direction and sure enough through the crowd of students she could see Randy leaning up against her locker reading the paper from this morning. The boy looked to the side, his eyes widening when he saw her before quickly waving her over. 

(Y/n) smiled to the redhead in thanks before she made haste in the boy's direction with a smile. The two cheerleaders watched as the crowd quieted down before parting for the girl. They felt themselves stiffen as Randy started to frantically talk to the girl placing the newspaper behind his back. 

“She doesn't know,” Autumn hissed quickly to the blonde. 

This caused Kandace to go from sympathetic to utterly mortified. “Y-you’re -you’re going to let her go inside not knowing-?”

“I’m going to let her friends handle it. She needs to find out from them. no one else  has asked her about it this morning. I made sure of it.” 

The brown skinned girl frowned, “I hope you know I’m very disappointed with your decision.” 

Autumn rolled her eyes, “And I’m very disappointed with almost all of yours. Especially letting Tatum still be on the team. ” 

“Randy, for the last time I’m fine! Are you feeling alright this morning?” 

Meeks perished his lips together in inner agony. It was clear that no one had told her about the news from this morning or the paper. And he hated it, he fucking hated it because she was already going through so much already and now she had to worry about reporters dragging her friend when she hasn’t even had the chance to go to her funeral yet. 

Randy looked down at the paper, then back up at (Y/n). If he was being honest he would rather be the one to tell her everything going on than anyone else. She deserved to know those closest to her. 

However, before the male could hand over the paper it was abruptly snatched from his hand. Turning around he came face to face with Stu Macher, his face red and chest heaving up and down in panic. Randy honestly has never seen the boy so out of sorts before. Sure there were a few moments where he lost his temper but he was usually seen as the easy going one most of the time. Although now his secrets were laid out all on the table glide to the morning paper. 

Randy snarled at the boy remembering how his stomach sank reading the entry where Casey and Stu discussed having a threesome with (Y/n). What kind of sick fucker would want to take a girls virginity in a fucking threesome? With her best friend watching no less! Where was the intimacy? The seclusion and the patience? 

Is that how low he thinks of her? After all these years of them knowing each other? 

Yes. Randy was not only angry because the girl he has feelings for is being disrespected, but because she had been through enough already. And Stu was showing he wasn’t fit for her. 

“Give it back dick face-“ 

Stu’s heated glare cut him off like genome, “who are you callin’ dick face ya twink?! I bet you were so excited to hand this over! It was a frickin’ drunk conversation it didn’t mean anything-“ 

“Didn’t mean anything?” Randy scoffed, “give it to her and see if she feels the same way.” 

(Y/n) watched the two boys carefully while taking in their expressions before looking around the hall. Everyone’s eyes were on them now and the whispers were getting louder. They were making a scene, 

“Uh guys, maybe we should-” 

“Don’t try to hide your fucking sins now!” 

The group of teens snapped their heads to the left to see a red hot fiery strawberry blonde walking their way. Never had the student body seen Tatum Reilly so angry and flushed. Her mascara was still runny from the tears she was shedding to the way her tight cropped jersey seemed to be wrinkled as if she'd taken it off and on several times within minutes. Not to mention her shoes that were currently un-tied as well Sidney was only a few paces behind her trying to grab onto her arm but it seemed like with each passing second she was only getting further away from her. 

“Oh god!” Stu rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “I can only handle one thing at a time!” 

“Oh really?” Tatum laughed in mirth, “you seemed pretty happy with the thought of occupying two women at the same time-“ 

“I was drunk and fucking unhappy-“ 

“Like that’s any excuse!” 

Stu smiled ruefully, “Oh don’t try to act like you’re any better. Let me remind you they all now know what you also did to Casey and (Y/n). Cornering her in a sleepover and calling her a slut!” He looked her up and down, the smile slowly turning into a slight snarl, something (Y/n) had never seen on the boy's face before. “Don't forget how this relationship started in the first place. “Casey is slow and boring-I can give you exactly what you need and more. Follow me and I’ll show you.”” 

Tatum looked around her cheeks flamed, the cheer team gasps, whispers, and glares were apparent making her blood run cold. She couldn’t believe he was telling everyone how they started, with her desperate attempt to sleep with him 

“You're just as guilty! Who leads girls on when you've already made up your mind on who you want?” 

“I told you who I wanted!” 

(Y/n) felt her nerves start to rise with each sentence being argued with Tatum and Stu. What the hell were they talking about? How did everyone find out about the sleepover? And why is Stu trying his best for her to not read the newspaper. She looked around slowly before her eyes landed on Kandace and Autumn promptly gesturing towards her with their own newspaper in hand. While her group of friends were distracted she quickly rushed over towards them seeing how Autumn looked sad and ashamed. 

“What's going on?” (Y/n) questioned. 

Kandace did not respond. In a way she didn't need to, her sorrowful expression was enough for the girl to understand it wasn't anything good. Reluctantly the cheerleader handed over the newspaper that felt way heavier than it should’ve. 

It seems like time slowed down with each entry the girl had read. From the front to the back, from the good to the bad, from the confessions to the secrets it was all laid out before her. And it hurt, it fucking hurt. Not because of how Stu viewed her, all of the ruthless things that were all done by her friends behind her back, no. It was the fact Casey loved her. Her best friend loved her so much and she couldn't say it in person. It had to be written down in a diary because she was afraid no one would accept her for who she is. 

Casey was gay. She fucking loved her. And now she is gone because of a ruthless killer that had a vendetta. And instead of her having the right to express herself to the world herself, a fucking reporter did it for fame. 

Stu shoved Tatum off of him once more, “Enough Tatum, we've had this discussion before. This was only temporary, I told you I didn't want anything serious!” 

“What does she have that I don't Stu!” Tatum hissed with venom lacing her tone, “She's a fucking virgin! And she most definitely doesn’t want to fuck you after you’ve sat back and fucked me-” 

“That's enough!” Sidney said with conviction, “The both of you look ridiculous! Just break it off and apologize to each other-” 

But it was already too late, Stu lost balance and fell on the floor from a wack to the back of his head with a history textbook. The crowd of students gasped in shock from the girl's actions, and her friends took a step back all except Randy Meeks. He simply stared at the sight before him, (Y/n)

“Is that how you view me?” It was above a whisper, but Stu could hear her tone clear as day. The anger and malice was there to play , “You view me as a friend to simply have sex with?” 

“No!” Stu tried to get up quickly but stumbled due to how dizzy he currently was, “ No! Please listen to me when I say this! I was drunk and messing around. I would never think of you as easy or to take advantage of you like that (N/n)! You know me better than that!” 

A permanent frown rested on the afro haired lips, “Do I Stu Stu? You seemed to be having a lot of fun with Tatum and Casey as if I wasn't there, always waiting and watching….. I knew I wasn't the prettiest….but I thought you would eventually realize how much I wanted you. But you had never changed, you’re fucking to deep up your ass to look and see the girl who was willing to die for you idiot!” To add more effect she threw the textbook one more time-only it wasn't at Stu-it was at Tatum. “Don’t think I didn't read that you fucking went behind Casey’s back you bitch!” 

(Y/n) pushed through the crowd with her friends quickly calling after her. It took a flat two minutes for her to get outside to the courtyard and see that van with other reporters doing an interview with the woman that was the cause behind her sheer heartache and rage. 

“Gale!”  (Y/n)’s shout was thunderous and unfamiliar. The looks she got alone showed that it was frightening to say the least. “I want to speak to the bitch that decided to give you evidence to a murder investigation! And that ducking decided you knew what the fuck you were doing with writing a story about this case concerning my parents.”

A reporter who was interviewing Miss Weathers promptly got out of the way of discussion, their cameraman ready. Gale watched the girl come up hastily and tried to remember everything she noted down that morning for the incoming questions the teen girl would have for her. 

“Are you happy with yourself?” (Y/n) snarled in fury. 

“To tell the whole truth about Casey’s final moments here in this world yes-“

“Moments that were kept in a diary for a reason. You’ve just outed a whole eighteen year old from beyond the grave and she’s not even fucking six feet under yet! It’s nearly impossible for her to be embalmed properly and not to mention the fact her parents didn’t even get a word in on this?”

“Did you even think about what it was like for her family and friends? About the risks of your actions and how they could affect others close around her? Or were you too selfish and money hungry for that to even cross your mind?” 

Gale looked around to the cameras and students who were listening intently. She felt the embarrassment and shame start to sink in from the angle she tried this at. From her perspective it was the only way to get the killer to come out from the shadows and to feel the pressure but the way the teen girl was looking at her made her feel terrible. The words cut like a knife and she was trying her hardest to come up with a comeback—and an explanation, but her words were dying in those venomous eyes that were staring back at her. 

“Well--” 

“Well?” The girl scoffed, “That's what you start off with? Well?! For my best friend you're disrespecting beyond the grave.” 

Sidney hesitantly reached out to the girl, “(Y/n) she's not worth it--” 

“No,” (Y/n) snapped, “It's been overdue for this conversation.” 

Stu stayed in the back trying to ignore the heated glare he was receiving from Tatum. He would try to go up and calm (Y/n) down but that would mean he would look guiltier than he already was. Not to mention the throbbing ache on the back of his head was terrible, in his opinion he did deserve it though. He shouldn't have gotten so drunk and excited when having sex with Casey, now (Y/n) knew of their drunk conversation and probably hated him. He was going to have to find a way to ask Billy to help him-.

“Are you not even going to try to apologize for what you did?” 

The male turned back in and looked at Tatum in frustration, “We’ll talk about this later, can you at least give me later?” 

Tatum wiped at her eyes and nodded, he expected for her to turn and walk away only for her to stand beside him and watch everything go down. A part of him knew that she was too in love with him for her own good, it was going to be hard to let her down easily without hurting her anymore. It was never meant to be a full relationship, she was only supposed to be there to help when he got upset or lonely. She started calling them boyfriend and girlfriend first, not him. 

“What's going on?” Billy’s voice cut through the tension between the two teens. Stu honestly was so glad to see his boyfriend, after everything gets settled at the school they are going to have to rethink about their plans concerning winning (Y/n) over. 

“(Y/n) is confronting Gale about the article, if we don't stop them it could get ugly,” Randy rushed anxiously. 

Tatum scoffed, “(Y/n) would never—” 

“You and community dick over here just got whacked over the head with a text book. Do you really want to finish that sentence?” 

Loomis ignored the squabble that started, and made way towards the front of the crowd near (Y/n). Sidney peered at him from the corner of her eye but refrained from saying a word to him. She was too suspicious for her own good, but it was okay, he would mess with her head again later. 

Billy stroked the girl's shoulder gently trying to direct her away from the reporter, “Come on (N/n). This isn't what Casey would have wanted—,” 

With a sniffle  the girl reluctantly managed a nod, “You're right. This isn't what she would've wanted.”

 The girl looked at Gale for a long moment watching the women begin to ease up on a sympathetic smile. As if a red thread snapped at once, so did her sanity. 

“—But it's what I want.” 

No one had a chance to pull (Y/n) back before the first hit landed and Gale's hair was in her fists. The older woman let out a scream of terror as the teen girl let off hit after hit. Her face twitched into a crude smile. She couldn't recall the moment they started rolling on the ground and her refusing to let go. The tufts of hair would slip through her fingers to the ground before grabbing at another section, ripping and tearing whatever she could. 

In all honesty it didn't seem like a fair fight. 

All the pent up rage and frustration from the past few days were unleashed with each punch and hit the girl could land. She couldn't hear the other commotion around her or the pulling and tugging Billy was doing to get her off the women. She was pretty sure who heard Deweys voice at one moment begging her to stop, and she would have listened-she honestly would have but the way Gale had the nerve to smile at her after everything she had done she couldn't let it go. 

She was done being pushed around like she was no one. Of being nice and ‘letting things go’ because ‘it was the right thing’ to do. When was justice ever going to be served to the people that wronged her and her family? This town was sucking the very life out of her by basically existing. The flashing lights of photos being taken, whoops and hollers of all the nearby student body cheering her on. 

No one cared about the fact Casey was outed by this woman. No one cared that her friendship would possibly be ruined with her friends due to the many secrets that were revealed. And no one cared that she hadn't been able to properly mourn the fact that the people she loved were crumbling and dying around her without warning. 

She was tired of loving people that weren’t going to stick around. 

“(Y/n)!” A lift of her arm then another tug was felt moving her weight off the older woman, “Dear god! She’s bleeding! (Y/n) she’s fucking bleeding get off!”

The girl zoned back in on her hands seeing the crimson red staining them from her knuckles to her elbows. Her breathing was heavy as she stared at the woman below her sobbing, Gale's nose was busted and bleeding all over. Her strands of hair loss and mixed into the blood and matted together I hurt her grip. 

(Y/n) could feel the perming snarl slowly being life’s from her face then sheer terror sinking in. She had done that. She had scratched and pummeled Gale Weathers. 

Looking down at the hand underneath her arm she traced to find Randy holding her. Billy was in Dewey’s grip and hand on his cheek as if he’d been hit. The guilt slowly started to sink in but by bit as she took in her actions. 

“That’s enough (N/n),” Randy whispered  softly, “she got the message.” 

(Y/n) felt a lump in her throat and slowly released Gale completely. Looking down at her bloody hands only then did she begin to cry and sob. The anger, the loss, the frustration, and overall sadness came to light. She never wanted to hurt anyone, she was just so tired. 

“Dee I-I would never-“

“Shhh,” the boy started to pull the girl up and off the reporter gently, “I know I know-“ 

“It’s not fair!” (Y/n) cried out, “She shouldn’t get anyway with it! She’s tarnished her name-“ Randy pulled the girl away again but she turned to the reporter one last time her words still star and filled with hate, “One day you’ll fucking regret crossing the wrong bitch Weathers! And there’ll be no fucking flowers on your grave!”

Randy cut the girl off with a full embrace to muffle her pained cries. He refrained from flinching the way her bloodied hands gripped his shirt tightly. It seemed so long while they stood there holding one another while the girl was sobbing. The cops surrounded the scene taking Gale to the paramedics while Billy was looked at quickly for the bruised on his cheek. However the boy wasn't focused on the searing pain of his face, no his eyes stayed glued on the male hugging his precious (Y/n). 

[creepling]

For the 1k followers thing (congrats btw, you deserve it), how about a Drabble with Johnny slaughter x reader with the prompt “one gets in an accident and who’s there when they wake up in the hospital? Their sworn enemy themselves” from the “enemies but one of them has a crush” list? Like maybe they’ve been neighbors for a while and just can’t seem to get along, and then one day he attacks her (or them if you wanna kept it gender neutral) thinking that it’s his victim and then he takes the reader to the hospital and they wake up like bro wtf is even happening (if this is too much story, feel free to scrap it, I saw the prompt and got carried away, may or may not write a whole fic based on this, we’ll see). Anyways sorry this was so long, hope you’re having a good day ❤️

you don't have to be sorry i love this concept!! sorry if i couldn't fit all the details but feel free to use this drabble as inspo for your fic series!! i'd love to read it<33

tags: gn!reader. johnny feels guilt. descriptive violence. full blown enemies. reader is fiestyyy and injured. not proofread.

Your head stirs awake after an everlasting dream. Opening you to the in-between of life and death. The afterlife light blends with the hospital room's fluorescent glow. You squint, groaning in fatigue, a stale numbness comatosing your body. “Where am I?” You groan, noticing the shadowy figure through your blurry vision.

“You’re awake,” The figure was surprised, rushing to your aid. They held your hand in a familiar firmness, and you grimace at their touch.

Your head pounding, you finally adjust to your surroundings, making out the person in front of you. Hair slicked back, eyes stern, absent of that smirk that makes your blood boil. He looked concerned, but it wasn’t enough to soothe your anger.

“You-” Lurching forward, you wince at the drip needle yanking at your skin. Johnny lays you back down, trying his best to calm you down.

“Now’s not the time for fighting,” He says, studying your dry lips and sullen eyes. His carelessness brought you here, the image of your spilt blood burning a hole in his mind. It was the first time he ever felt guilty.

“Get the fuck away from me,” You spat, “You’re the reason I’m fucking here. Once I get out, you’re fucking dead meat!”

“I can explain-” Johnny begins, but you’re quick with your tongue.

“After all these years of hating me and me standing up to your bullshit, and this is what I get? You try to kill me? Fucking piece of shit. It’s about time I slit your throat,”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Johnny barked, trying to keep quiet. “Look- you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. I thought you were . . . one of the kids escaping. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I had to get them before they-”

Johnny stopped talking once he saw your stare, that loathing stare he hated to see. You were conflicted by the way he stared at you. He looked hurt, possibly guilty – but it wasn’t enough to convince you. You knew him inside out for the narcissist that he is. If only you knew his suppressed feelings for you, how highly he thinks of you. You are the last person he wants dead in this world, even if it is a means to an end. He made matters worse, concealing it by being mean to you. If he were honest, you wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Slaughter. Once I’m back in good health, I will hunt you down like you do those silly little girls. And I will make sure your death is long and painful.” You spat, looking him up and down. “Now, get out before I strangling you.”

[deathsmallcaps]

prompt for any fandom or original fiction:

waking up in hospital, but the lights are off, no ones around.

Thanks for the ask! My inbox is open for prompts! This is for Talk To Me (2022), an Australian horror film.

The candle is blown, and Mia opens her eyes. She’s back in the hospital. It’s darker now, and there’s nobody.

Mia explores, walking now instead of running like before. The elevator her Dad took has a lit button panel, but nothing happens when she presses them. Riley’s recovery room is bare. The windows are mostly opaque, but occasionally a warm light will appear, or the shadow of a hand (rarely as mangled as her own) will brush up against it, indicating light beyond.

She tries to break them, to reach out to those hands beyond the glass, but all that happens is that she wakes up in the same starting spot, all over again.

Purgatory is fucking boring to the point of being awful. But Mia is vaguely glad she’s not in hell, if she’s this miserable here.

Occasionally, the darkness will envelope her, and there will be a candle and a hand, reaching out to her.

She always takes it, of course. Despite the gibbering, repentant madness that overwhelms her mind each time, she needs that interaction. There are very few things that are worse than being alone in that hospital.

At first, over the years, all she can do is desperately beg to speak to Riley, and Jade, and whoever else she hopes could still possibly be alive, could still forgive her and her sins.

But they’re usually just kids. Kids at a party, who often don’t even speak English. So after a while, she can occasionally swallow the madness. She thinks back to one of the first times she herself was possessed, and a Frenchwoman sang a song, perhaps about fools. She didn’t do well in French class. It seems so long ago now. And stupid.

How long had she been dead?

She doesn’t want these kids to be dead.

So she tells them. When she can. Tries to warn them of the curse she can only guess at, the rumors that floated through the wind when she was trying to fix Riley’s possession.

And slowly. Slowly slowly slowly. She can tell them more often. And the time between Talks takes longer and longer. It’s agonizing to be alone, in that hospital, where either her insanity or her trusting, loving foolishness reached its peak.

But it’s better than knowing that somewhere, out there, another soul is entering a purgatory like hers. Or worse.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been alone now. Even the shadows of hands seemingly fade away.

Mia is laying on the floor one day, face up, contemplating trying to eat the ceiling tiles again (all that lay behind is that opaque glass again, and all damage, all proof of herself resets after each Talk. There’s no point really.) when she hears a tiny crinkle.

There is no sound except for herself and the Talkers. Something is different.

She goes into the room where the sound seemingly echoed from. Riley’s room.

There’s a crack in the glass.

And it grows, splintering and shattering, the longer she stares at it.

Mía tries to break through, but she ends back up in her starting spot. And when she opens her eyes, she can hear again.

And everything is shattering.

She scrambles to her feet. The noise, a mere few moments ago a curious joy, is now overwhelming. Running, running past the desk and the beds and everything else, Mia arrives at the elevator.

It dings.

And the door opens up.

Mia rushes in, and turns to see her entire little world shattering into void.

And there is a man standing by the button panel inside the elevator. He presses the up button and smiles, holding his arms out to her.

“Dad?”

[shyphonics]

Salad Days, Chapter 9: Baby, Detonate for Me

(babypunk Rodrick Heffley x reader)

all chapters | playlist

I just want to give a warning for this chapter for mentions of mental health issues, antidepressants, and hospitals. This got weird and I'm sorry lol. My brain went to a dark place and I started thinking about my horrible middle school experience and the years I spent in a pit doing antidepressant roulette. This is also not any sort of anti meds/hospital propaganda, do whatever works for you :)

Anyway, this one's long and kinda sad, but I promise you it's uphill from here. These kids are gonna get their shit together.

9 to 5, they got you where they want you

There's a better life

And you think about it, don't you?

It's a rich man's game

No matter what they call it

And you spend your life putting money in his pocket

~

“Dude, are you kidding me?” Ben sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, dude! I have to work!” Rodrick insists, trying to step around him to get to the door.

“Ward worked really hard to get us this practice space, we already set up your drums, and you won't even come for just a little while? Call in sick!”

Ward crosses his arms, nodding, hurt in his eyes.

Rodrick thinks. There was a time when he would've blown off just about anything to go practice with his friends, in a real studio space. Now he's not even sure if he remembers how to play.

“All the big local bands practice there. It's, like, a little apartment building with studios! It's awesome! And we got in!” Ward frowns.

“All the big local bands?” Rodrick turns to look at him.

The guys all nod.

Rodrick sneaks around Ben wordlessly, heading towards the door and slipping out. The guys yell in protest as he walks down the hallway, but he doesn't stop. He can't face them, no matter how terrible he feels about all of this. He made this mess, and he has no idea how to fix it.

“That girl emailed you!”

Rodrick freezes. He turns around.

“That's fucking low,” He breathes, pointing towards the open door of the apartment, “Don't fuck with me like that.”

He storms off down the hallway, driving the band van across town, to the plant. He loads up his truck in anger, shoving the cases inside and slamming the door. Maybe he doesn't even want to be in the band anymore. Not with people who will toy with his emotions like that. The guys at the plant suck, but at least they don't need much more from him than “deliver the beer.”

He really does hate hanging out with them, though. He drives fast, the cans and bottles in the back rattling underneath the sound of a mix CD he hasn't listened to since high school. The radio isn't safe right now. Not when the only good station gives him a high chance of hearing you.

He stops at a red light, grunting and gripping the wheel. He didn't think his friends had that in them, to try and trick him like that. Unless they weren't… unless you really…

No. No way. You want nothing to do with him. He shakes himself out of his thoughts, driving through the green light.

He wheels his dolly into a grocery store, head down, until he hears a throat clear.

A man stands before him, holding up a picture. He looks at the picture, then the man, in total confusion.

“Do you know this girl?” The man asks.

Rodrick looks back down, the features slowly coming into view. It's you, without a doubt, but you look… different. Younger, straight laced, maybe a little dead behind the eyes. He squints in confusion, then looks up at the man.

“Why?”

“Why? It's none of your business,” He scoffs, “Do you know her? Do you know where I can find her?”

He eyes the man strangely, not liking the frantic look in his eyes. After everything he's done to you, he's not taking a chance on any weird shit like this. He’s at least not going to make anything worse. He shakes his head.

“Never seen her.” He keeps his face straight.

“Are you sure?” The man pleads.

“100%. I gotta get these cases in, ‘scuse me.” He pushes his dolly around the man.

He feels eyes on him the whole time, hunching over as he wheels into the store. He doesn't like that. He doesn't like it one bit.

Sitting in his truck after the delivery, he feels uneasy.

He sighs, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot. There’s a car right on his ass, some flashy, white BMW. He raises an eyebrow, speeding up a little.

“Just pass me, asshole.” He mumbles, turning up his music.

The white car follows him to all of his deliveries that day, and at the third one, the driver gets out. It’s the guy from the grocery store. Rodrick wants to say something, but he’s not exactly the confrontational type. He decides to just keep an eye on him, for now.

He’ll just end up on the opposite side of town from you, anyway.

~

I am the girl you know, can't look you in the eye

I am the girl you know, so sick I cannot try

I am the one you want, can't look you in the eye

I am the girl you know, I lie, and lie, and lie

I'm Miss World

Somebody kill me

Kill me, pills

No one cares, my friend

~

2 weeks. It’s officially been 2 weeks since you’ve seen Rodrick. On top of that, you and one of your best friends are not on speaking terms, and it feels like your dad gets closer to finding you every day. Not to mention that you’ve been alone, cooped up in the house all week. No bar, no radio, only a few horse calls from Mike to drop off groceries and scheme with you.

You lie back on your bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling defeated.

You should’ve known. Should’ve taken Rodrick’s whole “bad boy” schtick as the red flag that it had been. A “bad boy” schtick usually means one thing: coward. You should’ve protected yourself. You laugh, despite yourself, shaking your head. You can feel the crazy coming. It’s always preceded by feelings of rejection. And thoughts of your father. The beast comes out. You know how you are.

Feeling like this makes the memories come out. The bad ones, stored real deep, where you won’t dare dwell on your own.

You have passing memories of the first time you ever heard good music, which is kinda fun, at first.

You were 12, innocently flipping channels, when you’d landed on MTV. Hole, No Doubt, Smashing Pumpkins… whoa.

You’d been so curious, chasing the sound you’d heard that night, that you’d walked down to the mall, to the music store the next day.

“I’m looking for something… I- I saw these people on TV.” You’d looked away from the counter, embarrassed.

“How old are you?” The guy at the counter had smiled, his spiked hair huge, lime green. A thick, silver ring sat in his lip, and his jacket was covered in spikes. He looked like a dangerous disco ball.

“12,” You couldn’t meet his eyes. He’d just been so cool.

You’d left with a stack of CDs, sold on discount. The older boy had given you an ‘introduction pack’, as he’d said.

7 albums that would go on to change your life.

Misfits - Walk Among Us

Ramones - Rocket to Russia

Black Flag - Everything Went Black

Dead Kennedys - Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables

Bad Brains - Bad Brains

Bikini Kill - Revolution Girl Style Now!

The Dead Milkmen - Big Lizard In My Backyard

The music reached you, where nothing else had reached you before.

Especially the basslines- you’d waited ages on dial-up internet to find out who the bassists were. Jerry Only, Dee Dee Ramone, Chuck Dukowski, Klaus Fluoride, Darryl Jenifer, Kathi Wilcox, and Dave Blood, your new heroes.

You laugh a little painfully, remembering the candle you’d lit earlier this year, to commemorate the one year anniversary of Dave Blood’s death. You and Mike had cried at the bar together, listening to surfy basslines like they were funeral hymns.

That summer, you’d begged your parents to let you into a music program.

They’d assumed it would be something classy, you playing chamber music on a violin, but it was a rock band program. Sure, you’d lied. Who cares?

You’d had the time of your life, all decked out in prop leather jackets and Halloween eyeliner. Learning how to play, how to be a band. Togetherness. It had only been a two week program, but you bonded with those guys more than any kid you’d ever met in school.

Your music teacher, Frankie, had awoken you to your own power for the first time.

You were already learning bass- you’d learned all the songs your tween rock band had decided on- but he’d wanted you to be the singer, too. No one else wanted to do it.

He’d placed a folding chair in front of you.

Yell at the chair. He’d said, like it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

I’m sorry, what?

Yell at the chair.

You’d yelled, half heartedly, looking to Frankie for approval.

He’d looked at you, deadpan.

C’mon. I know you can do better than that, Don’t look at me! Scream! You hear me? Scream like a girl!

You yelled, and screamed, as Frankie urged you to think about anything that made you angry.

You’d thought about your recent debilitating period cramps, your mother’s magazine fad diet obsession, and both of your parents’ lament that they could never have another child. As if to insinuate they’d had one shot with you, and you’d better be good, dammit.

You’d yelled until you could completely nail a song that you’d suggested to the group- California Uber Alles. Eerie wails left you until it was like the spirit of Jello Biafra was possessing you himself.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh…

The final performance came, and your parents looked horrified, a stark contrast to the supportive classic rock dads and lowrider moms, cheering from the audience.

You’d taken center stage, a too-big Fender bass positioned on your hips, and said to the audience, “We! Are! Ne’er Do Wells!”

You’d looked across the stage, the lights bright in your eyes, and god. For the first time in your life, you’d felt like you had some sense of control over yourself. You felt like you had power. The set had been incredible- you’d yelled, and jumped around, even dramatically dropped to your knees, scraping yourself up on the splintery, old wood of the stage. People went crazy for it- well, except for your parents. Your bandmates’ parents and Frankie more than made it up to you. You’d had stars in your eyes. Finally, a beam of hope.

That’s what I wanna do. You’d repeated, over and over, that’s what I wanna do when I grow up.

You were 13 years old the first time you were put on antidepressants.

“I don't know. She's angry, she doesn't listen,” Your mom says, rolling her eyes, “Fix her.”

The doctor doesn't even look up.

He's not even a psychiatrist.

“We can start her on 75mgs of Zoloft,” he scribbles on a sheet, “Standard practice for a girl her age. I'll send it in.”

It's just like that. You're not involved. No one wants to know how you feel.

You think maybe it won't be so bad, but the first dose hits you like a truck. You stand from the couch, and a blast of vertigo sends you flying sideways to the floor.

Your mom looks down at you.

“I guess you can't go to your bass lessons.”

You panic. No, no, no. That's all you have left. Frankie had taken a liking to you, and gave you lessons for free. He’d known your parents hated the music thing, and he took pity on you. Your one safe place.

“No, I can go!”

You stand. You fall. Your mom brings you to your room.

“You should rest.” She closes the door.

You sit on your bed, knees to your chest. You look at the walls, a chaotic collage of magazine cutouts and posters, and are comforted, slightly. Dead Kennedys; 3 regular looking guys, and a screaming, shirtless Jello Biafra. Bikini Kill, solemn in sepia, with dark lipstick and baby tees. Suicidal Tendencies, sitting on a curb in their flannels and Dickies, hat bills flipped up. You try to slow your breathing, your head feeling cloudier and cloudier as a wave of nausea hits. You roll onto your side, coming face to face with a goofy, shirtless pinup of 80s Danzig, trying to look tough. It always makes you laugh. This time, all you can manage is a faint smile. Sleep eventually finds you.

The pills just make everything worse.

You're a zombie, except for brief outbursts of rage. Nearly always directed at your father, but sometimes just when you're alone.

This only angers him more, and your dose is upped.

You float through school, numb and confused, barely even noticing when they make you switch schools.

It's a private school, a tiny series of buildings on the outskirts of town.

Your dad insists such a small school will make you focus, and thrive. It’s some kind of experimental learning style.

All it gets you is the attention of the principal, a meek, older hippie named Dina.

She looks sweet, but soon- you find she's your worst enemy.

Every little thing you do is under scrutiny. She pulls you aside in the short hallway, nearly every day, demanding to know what you'd lied about.

“I haven't lied about anything!”

“That's not what your dad told me.”

She keeps you there for whole class periods. Your grades suffer. Your dad is pissed.

She slowly breaks you down, more and more as months go by. Even when you think things have been going well- you've been pretending to be happy, talking to people, engaging in class- it doesn't stop. She's relentless.

Eventually, a breaking point comes.

You've been working on oral reports, you've spent months on them. You're a nervous wreck. Sitting at your desk fidgeting and twitching. You can feel the bags under your eyes, and your dry lips are chewed to the point of bleeding.

Dina makes you go first.

Your blood boils.

She knows. She can see you. Why does it have to be you first?

Finally, you stand.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You shriek, the built up rage of nearly a year evident in your voice, “Why? Why? Why, Dina?”

She stares at you, not shocked, but something like a smirk on her face.

The students around you are stunned.

“Oh, right, because you hate me! You're always on my fucking case about shit I didn't even do!”

“I'm just trying to help prepare you for the real world.” She smiles, her voice cold, “They won't care if you're a little tired in college.”

“A little tired?” Your voice grows quiet, breaking, “I'm not a little tired, I am drugged out of my fucking mind and under constant suspicion from every single person in my life!”

People stare as you cross the room, looking at her eye to eye, your fists clenched.

“Fuck you.” Your voice comes out low and shaky.

You shoulder the classroom door open and leave the school, stumbling down the sides of busy streets, no final destination in mind.

You have passing thoughts of jumping in front of a truck, the option seeming better and better as you grow exhausted, collapsing on your knees in a dirt lot.

Then you hear the ambulance.

And that marks the start of your first visit to the psych ward.

White, sterile cinder block walls. Tiny little window to the outside. It's like you're in prison.

A woman enters your room, smiling. You manage a smile back. They've got you detoxing off the antidepressants, to get a better scope of what's actually wrong with you.

“Hi, I'm Dr. Parks. You can call me Marie, though.”

The doctor has a kind face, calm eyes, pink lips, and a freckled nose. Her hair hangs in soft, brown curls.

“What were your symptoms before you started Zoloft?” She asks.

“Well… I didn't really have any. I didn't have any symptoms until I started taking it.”

“What?” She asks, after a pause.

“I guess I got a little sad or angry sometimes, but it wasn't that bad. I thought that was normal. But maybe I'm wrong.” You look down, doubting yourself.

You hear Marie arguing with a man outside of your door.

Her dad says she's out of control!

She seems perfectly normal!

You don’t even know what you’re on now. Three different pills a day, and your mom watches you like a hawk when you take them. You’re on edge constantly, feeling like any little thing you could possibly do will land you in more trouble. You feel like a stranger in your own body, like you’re dreaming everywhere you go. You’ve lost all autonomy, all awareness. Is this normal? Is this what life is supposed to be like?

The corners are all that remains of your old, glorious poster collage. Your dad has ripped everything down by the time you got home.

You miss goofy, shirtless Danzig.

You miss being able to trust your own thoughts.

You miss feeling alive.

~

They can't make things worse for me, sometimes I'd rather die

They can tell me lots of things, but I can't see eye to eye

I know they know the way I think, I know they always will

But someday I'm gonna change my mind, sometimes I'd rather kill

Bloodstains, speed kills

Fast cars, cheap thrills

Rich girls, fine wine

I've lost my sense, I've lost control, I've lost my mind

~

“Rodrick!”

A girl's voice. A wasted girl’s voice. He turns around.

Heather stumbles towards him, picking blonde hairs out of her lipgloss.

“Rodrick, hey,”

He feels his whole body stiffen as she approaches, and her hand lands on his shoulder.

“Can I talk to you?”

“No.” He shrugs out of her touch.

“We can go somewhere private, let's go to my place.”

“No.”

She narrows her eyes.

“Okay, well I guess I'll just drive home like this, or maybe I'll be safe and walk, and get kidnapped or something.” She throws her hands out to the sides, wobbling slightly.

“Ricky, are you fuckin’ crazy?” Buck whispers.

“What?” Rodrick turns.

“If you don't take her home, I think I might,” he laughs.

Rodrick wrinkles his nose.

“Buck, she's wasted. And half your fucking age.”

“What, like that's a bad thing?” He looks around at the group. Everyone laughs. Rodrick feels a pit in his stomach.

It hits him. They're disgusting. All of them. Why is he even here?

“Fuck you, Buck, I quit,” He stands up, not waiting for a reaction, “Heather, give me your keys.”

Heather grins, smug.

She walks out, clinging to him, and he helps her into her passenger seat. Her red convertible is stupidly nice, and he's afraid to mess up the leather seats just by sitting down.

“Blue sorority house on campus,”

Rodrick nods, pulling out of the parking lot. They drive in silence.

The house is empty, and he helps Heather onto a white sofa.

“Will you at least sit down?” She sighs.

“We don't have anything to talk about, Heather.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief. She scoffs.

“My boyfriend's got the cops on his ass because of you.”

“How is it because of me?” He gives up, sitting on the opposite side of the couch.

“Whatever. Either way, he's probably gonna go to jail.” She rolls her eyes, scooting closer to him.

“Uh-huh,” Rodrick moves until he's right against the arm of the couch.

“But he was kind of a bad boyfriend anyway.”

Rodrick is silent, looking at her. Searching her blue eyes. She looks part drunk, part sad, part… smug, maybe?

“And, y'know, it's got me thinking,” she puts her hand on his chest. Rodrick’s heartbeat skyrockets, “Maybe I should've… given certain people a chance.”

“Heather,” he looks down at her, breathing heavily as she combs her fingers over the fabric of his shirt, “Don't. C'mon.”

“Why not?” She pouts.

“You're… you're drunk. And I think nothing ever happened between us for a reason, I mean… I don't even feel anything for you anymore. You made my life hell after the party. And after we graduated.”

Her hand grips the front of his shirt, knuckles white. He stares down at it, eyes wide.

Then her face is right in front of his, and before he can stop it, her lips are on his, and it feels… oh, god, it feels wrong.

He pushes her off and stands up.

“Heather, no. It's not gonna happen.”

She sneers up at him.

“Fine, then leave.”

“I've wanted to leave this whole time!”

“Then go!” She yells.

He stands outside the door, breathing fast, fists clenched.

After all that time, it finally happened. And it was awful. He curses, kicking a piece of gravel across the street as he starts walking back to the bar. It takes a while, but he gets there, not bothering to go back inside. He spots Caitlin outside, on her smoke break.

“I’m glad you quit,” She laughs, a bitter sound, “Fuck those guys. I’m gonna miss you, though.”

“Thanks,” He sighs, looking down, holding the door of the truck open. “You should see about getting a job downtown. Don’t put up with them anymore, y’know?”

She smiles, taking a long drag.

“Yeah. Yeah, I should. I’ll work on it. See you around?”

“We’ll see.” Rodrick smiles softly, opening the door of the van.

He gets home to a dark, empty apartment. He should’ve gotten the address of that practice space. He feels bad for how he left this morning, even if they did hit him a little below the belt.

Unless they didn’t.

Rodrick eyes his laptop, his hands hovering over it, his mind flipping rapidly back and forth between open it and don’t fucking open it!

He opens it, and there it is, plain as day. World’s best bartender.

His eyes scan the page, mouth falling open in disbelief.

I assume the ship has sailed.

Dick move.

You probably don’t care anyway.

Rodrick’s heart drops.

You’d been waiting for him. You hadn’t hated him from the start, but you have to by now. It sure sounds like it. The offer to email back and call seems like a bitter formality now. He might as well just stay in his little shame bubble.

He’d hurt you.

He’s done stupid things before, lots of them, but he’s never hurt someone like this. It feels horrible, and here he’d been thinking it was all for your benefit.

He slowly closes the laptop, curling onto his side on the couch. This time, he lets himself cry. Without the shame, without the frustration. He just cries, until his eyes are dry, and he’s a lump on the couch.

He remembers the guy at the grocery store, and then the line from your email. Bonnie Forester…

I can’t answer mystery numbers right now.

He shifts to lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling, troubled. Are you in hiding or something? Who the hell was that guy?

He takes out his phone, and nobody has tried to get in contact with him all day.

Well, except his mom, who sent him a low resolution image of a kitten in a tree, with the text: hang in there! He rolls his eyes, but sends her a thanks, mom.

At least he has someone.

He decides to do something possibly stupid. He scrolls down to your number, saved as your name with several question marks afterwards. He debates for a while, thinking very carefully about what to say. He finally dials, and hears Bonnie's voicemail once again. Beep.

“Hey, um…” He sighs, cringing, “If this is… Bonnie… I'm sorry. Just in case, though, it's- it's Rodrick. I got your email. I'm so fucking sorry. I know you probably don't want to hear from me, like, ever again. I'm really, really sorry, and I’ll give you an explanation and a real apology sometime if you feel like listening to one. I just thought you should know there's some older guy showing pictures of you outside the grocery store on 4th, asking where he can find you? I don't know. It was really weird, and I told him I'd never seen you before. I figured it’s better safe than sorry.”

He pauses, squeezing his eyes shut, tears pricking at the corners.

“I'm just so sorry for what happened to the bar, and I know you hate me, I just… I miss you so much. Fuck-” As he's trying to hit the key to start the message over, his dumb fingers hit the one to confirm it instead. Shit, shit, shit. That was way too much. He stares at his phone in shock, like it's betrayed him. He debates just throwing it across the room, but he settles for letting it clatter to the floor.

This almost feels worse than ignoring the problem. His heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest.

He had to do it, though. He doesn’t want anyone to hurt you any worse than he had.

~

I wait forever for you

Figure out your problem with me is you

I won’t ever be like you

Ever see right through

~

High school starts. Public, this time.

You walk through the halls, feeling like a ghost. People look at you, and then quickly away. Nobody talks to you. And can you blame them? You look like a total nutcase. Well, you are, apparently.

Your mother dresses you like a Catholic schoolgirl. Plaid skirts and knee socks, white button downs and stupid little ties.

All of your focus goes into school.

I just have to pass this class. I just have to pass every single class.

You get A’s that your dad wishes were A+’s.

You grow angrier by the day.

Your 16th birthday passes, and nobody notices.

Spring Break comes, and you're actually invited to a party. Well- everyone is. You have one friend at this point, a lanky, unpopular boy named Peter. He's been on ADHD meds since he was in Kindergarten. He understands you in some weird way. He'd told you about the party with great excitement- finally, the two of you had a chance.

You beg your parents to go. To feel normal for a night.

They say no. Of fucking course they do.

You spend spring break at home, studying for finals.

The night of the party comes.

Rage builds. You're wasting your youth in a brain and a body that don't feel like yours. You’re fucking sick of it. You walk to the bathroom.

You find a pair of clippers that your dad uses to touch up his hair. You plug them in, removing the blade cover. They buzz to life.

You take a chunk of your hair off, and your jaw drops in surprise. A huge, bald stripe down the center of your head. You grin, taking off another stripe. And another. And another. Until your head is completely bald. Your hair lies in a pile on the floor.

Your mother had always loved your hair. It was just like hers, she’d said. People could mistake you for sisters.

Not anymore.

You haphazardly shave your eyebrows off for good measure.

You walk downstairs.

Your parents sit in front of the TV, neither watching. Your dad reads a newspaper, and your mom is asleep with an empty wine glass in her hand.

You stand there, staring at your dad.

He blinks at you in surprise, “Good lord- you look awful.”

You don’t say a word. He sighs, his tone staying calm.

“Is this still about that stupid party? You know I just want what’s best for you.”

Your face contorts, and you feel hot tears leaking out of your eyes. You grab his newspaper, and throw it on the ground.

“It's not just the party, and you know it!” Your voice comes out ragged.

“Okay, just calm down-” he starts.

You grab your mom's wine glass and launch it through the TV. You move on a path of destruction, breaking stupid, ugly vases, the glass case for your dad's dumb signed baseball, the “good” china plates in the cabinet.

Your dad tells you to calm down, to stop. He threatens you.

Your mother’s voice is shrill and panicked, “Your hair! What did you do to your hair?”

A scream bubbles out from your throat that won't stop, and you wail until your voice breaks, smashing everything you can get your hands on.

Your dad follows you to the kitchen, and before he can grab you, you take a knife from the block and hold it to your throat.

“Stop.” His voice is still entirely too stern and calm.

You press the tip to the hollow of your throat, raising your eyebrow, your heartbeat loud in your ears. After all that, the biggest outburst of them all, he's still a cold, emotionless asshole.

Your mom tackles you to the ground.

You come to in a room, identical to the one before, in the psych ward.

You sit on the side of the hard cot, bouncing your knees, feeling your eyes twitch, dry tears in hardened streaks on your face.

A woman comes in. You see the light from behind her, shining through her soft curls. She looks like an angel.

“C'mon. Hurry.” She whispers.

This must be some kind of a hallucination, but… the door is open. You follow her.

She sneaks you through the hospital, retrieving the clothes you'd come in with and rushing you out the front doors. You're hurried into the passenger side of a car. You finally get a good look at her.

It's Marie, the doctor, from all those years ago.

“Are you… real?”

She looks at you.

“Yes. You shouldn't be here.”

You just stare at her, feeling dazed.

“Your parents want to have you transferred to a long term facility and put a conservatorship on you once you're 18.”

“What…?”

“When you shouldn't have even been here in the first place.” She huffs, starting the car.

“What does that mean?” you ask, feeling small in the car seat.

“They'll have guardianship over you for your whole life, unless you can prove to a court that you're able to take care of yourself. And you won't be able to if you're on drugs that you don't need to be on.”

You blink at her.

“Where are you taking me?” Your voice shakes.

“Well, where do you want to go?”

You look at her, stunned. You haven't gotten to make a decision for yourself in years.

“I get… to choose?”

“Yeah,” she smiles at you, “I'd hide you at my house, but I've got too many people at home. It would be too hard. Where's somewhere you've always wanted to go?”

You think, New York instantly coming to mind. It's not far, but… you'd get eaten alive. C'mon, think.

You remember seeing flyers here and there, outside of grocery stores, and on telephone poles by the high school, for punk shows.

Always in a town called Port Hanna.

You grin.

“I wanna go to Port Hanna.”

She smiles, and takes a turn that leads to the highway.

Port Hanna is 45 minutes away, and Marie lets you fiddle with the radio.

A station turns from static to a man talking, in a passionate, nasally voice.

“People thought I was crazy. My parents kicked me out when I was 16, and I said, okay, screw you. I'm going where the music is.”

Your ears perk up.

“I got to Oakland, and followed this group of punks onto a bus that went right to San Francisco. Followed ‘em to Mabuhay Gardens. Walked inside with the Xs on my hands, and Dirk Dirksen was calling the guy onstage a cavalcade of insults that I can not repeat on this broadcast. That man was Iggy Pop, and he played a song I had heard many times before. This time was different. This time, it changed me. This is that song.”

A bouncy, simple guitar riff kicks in. The music feels like it’s hugging your ears. You’ve heard it before, but you feel it changing you, too. Tears fall from your eyes uncontrollably as Marie drives.

~

Honey, gotta strike me blind

Somebody’s gotta save my soul

Baby, penetrate my mind

And I’m the world’s forgotten boy

The one who’s searchin’, searchin’ to destroy

And, honey, I’m the world’s forgotten boy

The one who’s searchin’, only to destroy

~

Marie pulls up to a motel. She gets the room while you wait in the car. She hands you the key outside the door, an outside entry on a 2-story balcony, and slips a bundle of money into your hand. You embrace her.

“I got you 7 days- I know it’s not enough. Nothing would be enough, but-” She sighs.

“It’s enough. It’s more than enough.” You squeeze her, “I’ll figure something out,”

“Jesus. You’re too young to have to figure something like that out.”

“It’s okay.”

“One more thing,” she pulls away, “If the phone rings, you don’t say hello. You wait until they talk.”

You nod.

“And as the meds wear off, you’re probably going to feel a little weird, but it’s worth it. I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle, after all you’ve been through. Just… please be careful. Call me if you need anything.”

She hands you another slip of paper, with a phone number written down.

You hug her one last time, and she’s gone.

The room is friendly, if dated. A tacky, fruit-patterned comforter covers the bed, with a matching armchair in the corner. The walls are a soft beige, and a tired-sounding air conditioning unit runs under the window. Your head feels freezing- an unfamiliar feeling- and you turn it off. You change out of your hospital clothes into the ones you’d been admitted in, and feel a little better. You click the TV on, sitting in the middle of the bed. Alone- the good kind of alone. You tune in to MTV, a formerly banned channel in your household. You don’t know who’s being interviewed, and you don’t care. You’re just too happy to hear music. To hear people talking about music.

Hello, my dears, Dave Holmes here-

An ad for a pizza joint grabs your attention from by the phone, and your stomach growls. You haven’t had much of an appetite in months, not to mention your mom put the two of you on a different restrictive diet every month or so.

You count the cash Marie had given you, wondering if you could even budget food, and are shocked at the amount. Feeding yourself is definitely in the budget. You’re so happy you could cry.

You use an alias on the phone- Debbie Carlisle- and don’t look too close at the pizza guy when he arrives. As you’re about to close the door, a voice stops you from outside.

“Debbie Carlisle? Is that your stage name?” the man laughs, tall and slender, leaning on the balcony, blowing out a plume of smoke, “Debbie Harry, plus Belinda Carlisle? I like it.”

“No. Yes! Uh… no.” You panic, standing in the doorway. How did he figure it out so fast?

The man turns around. He doesn’t look too much older than you are. A pencil mustache lines his lip, and his hair makes him look like a rooster.

“You look like you’ve been through hell.” He nods at your shaved head.

You’re silent for a few seconds.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“You watchin’ 120 Minutes?” He peers into your open door.

“Yes.”

“Alright, well I won’t bother you too much, then. See ya ‘round, Debbie.” He smirks, ashing his cigarette over the side of the balcony.

You shut your door.

The ending of the memory is bittersweet. Nick took your rejection hard. You don’t know if he’ll ever talk to you again. You sit up on the bed, looking out the window. You’re exhausted. You wipe a tear from your cheek and pull out your cell phone. 1 missed call, and a voicemail. The same number from last week. Strange.

You click on the voicemail, holding the phone up to your ear.

The shock of Rodrick’s voice makes your eyes go wide. You feel yourself go limp, your eyes welling up again.

I’m so fucking sorry.

I’m really, really sorry.

You let your face fall into your hand, your lip trembling. All your anger with him seems to fall away, all the bullshit you’d been telling yourself earlier.

Some older guy showing pictures of you-

Your head snaps up. Nerves take over your body. You sigh with relief that Rodrick had good enough instincts to not give you up.

Your heart warms when he says he misses you.

As much as you sort of hate yourself for it, you miss him, too. You really, really do.

You don’t have it in you to call him back, not right now. You’ll be a blubbering mess. You’d rather see him in person, anyway.

There’s a party tomorrow- a big one- and The Strike re-opens on Saturday. It’ll be your first time out of the house in a week, if everything goes to plan. Maybe, just maybe, his friends will manage to drag him out of the house.

For now, you wait.

~

Now you’re finally sixteen

And you’re feelin’ old

But they won’t believe

That you’ve got a soul

Whoa-whoa-no

tag list: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam , @stargurl-01

[sahisan]

it's rlly about time i understood that nobody cares about ukraine anymore after these 9 (2 for non-ukrainians) years.

like, i mean

20 percent of ukraine's territory is occupied by russia for almost two years of the full-scale war already.

mariupol - a city in south - does not exist anymore, thousands of people died there, thanks to russia. russian aviation dropped a bomb on a drama theater which had a large inscription "KIDS" near the building. in the theater there were not azov military, but people, families, children and newborn kids. all of them died under the rubble. mariupol - even as a "city" under russian occupation - does not exist.

nova kakhovka dam was blown up in summer 2023, resulting in one of kherson's banks being completely flooded, with dnipro river's water reaching the private houses' roofs; resulting in corpses of people and animals floating in the stream of this very water for kilometres away from kherson.

russia keeps bombing every single thing they can fucking reach, be it hospitals, schools, kindergartens, clubs, apartment buildings with people in there. they do not care about anything but destroying ukraine and killing ukrainians.

russia is planning on bombing ukraine's power stations in winter to cause blackouts for the whole country like it was in winter 2022-23. they want us to suffer without light, electricity, mobile connection and heat, that's why they're planning it on winter - they want ukrainians to freeze to death.

russia threatened to blow up the nova kakhovka dam. they did it. now russia is threatening to blow up the currently occupied zaporizhzhia npp, which is a threat to every single country in not only europe, but in the whole world. it will be a catastrophic event if it happens - remember chernobyl?

russia is not only putin. russia is every russian - every russian who is killing ukrainians at the war, every russian who supports putin, every russian who lives in russia.

and what i've listed isn't even a 2% of what russians have done.

there is no such thing as "a good russian". because a good russian is a dead russian.

have a good day and support ukraine. donate. don't be silent.

World Central Kitchen.

Voices of Children.

Humanity & Inclusion.

Future For Ukraine.

The UN Refugee Agency.

Community Organized Relief Effort.

Come Back Alive.

Razom.

[dimonds456]

The Hunger Games: a fictitious prophetic reflection of current reality

Just got done watching Mockingjay: Part 2, and... holy shit.

Watching it with the context of what's happening in Palestine is so difficult. There's one scene in particular where bombs are dropped on Capitol civilians, but it was disguised as aid. And the whole time I was sitting there like, "this is what the flour massacre was like. This is what it's like every time Palestinians have to swim out to sea to get food, knowing that if the water doesn't kill them, the snipers will."

In Part 1, as well, the Capitol specifically targets and bombs a hospital, killing all the survivors inside. I need not explain the parallels of this one to anyone who has even been slightly paying attention. It's horrific, but horribly accurate to reality.

It's the main reason I decided to rewatch the Hunger Games in the first place, cuz I kept thinking about that scene. Now that we got there, I don't think I'm ever going to be able to rewatch that scene again without thinking about Palestine.

There is a dark, poetic irony to the movie adaptations. Jennifer Lawrence, the girl who plays Katniss, is a Zionist, while Donald Sutherland, the guy who played President Snow, was an activist who was very pro-Palestine. The whole reason he took the role was to help inspire young people to stand up to authority. He's dead now, but I know he'd be disappointed in the world today. He'd be vocally cheering Palestine on.

Sutherland understood the Games and their real life symbolic meaning instinctively. So did the filmmakers. Watching this made me start to really wonder about Jlaw. How can you play Katniss and portray her so perfectly, and not get the fucking message of the film? How can you act in a scene where a bunch of children get killed, reaching their arms up for aid, only to get blown up in a trap, and not understand that doing that is pure evil? It's baffling.

But aside from that. I'm in tears. This movie is not an easy watch anymore. There is deeper symbolism here present only in retrospect that makes it near impossible to just turn your brain off and enjoy it. That's what I came back to understand; how war and oppression function on a personal level. That's the power of movies. They can place you directly in the middle of a war and show you exactly the cost. And the Hunger Games does that perfectly.

With all the pictures and videos coming out of both Palestine and Israel, with Netanyahu treating it like one big "self defense" act to win people over, to "punish" Hamas... The parallels to the Games are too strong. Too real. Especially considering the original novels were meant to be a commentary on our collective desensitization to violence.

Don't be desensitized. Stand for what's right. That's literally the message of these films, and it rings true now more than ever.

If you find yourself becoming desensitized to the horrific images coming out of Palestine, I honestly recommend watching Mockingjay Part 2 again (or the whole series if you haven't seen it). By being on a personal, intimate level, it helps destroy that and reconnects you to reality. That's the power of fiction.

To any Zionist reading this: you are saying that they were right to drop those bombs on those Capitol kids. Because that literally happened. The Flour Massacre happened, SEVERAL times. Children are dying due to dismemberment, disease, hunger, and explosions. Adults struggle to keep themselves and their kids alive. Except it's not fiction. It's real.

It is our duty to stand up for what's right, to defy authority, and to fight for freedom until everyone is free. That's why President Coin also had to die. She was symbolic of a new era of oppression. And that isn't right. It never was, and it never will be.

Free Palestine.

[saturnine-saturneight]

OC questionnaire

Thank you for the tag x2 @paeliae-occasionally (here and here)!!

The questions:

Why did you leave home?

What is your ideal job?

What will life look like when you complete your main goal?

When were you most tired?

What would it take for you to give up on your goal?

What is a flaw that you have?

I'm gonna do something different with this - I'm gonna have my main group of characters answer these from the vantage of when they were younger :) More precisely, under a year before disaster strikes.

So we have Ron (15), Teo (19), Haru (18), and Yamilé (18).

Why did you leave home?

Ron: "Home like in Santarém? I picked the wrong fight with the wrong people! Pretty simple chain of events there."

Teo: "Wouldn't call it simple at all. Neither for him nor for me, but he's not gonna tell you that. I left because I just couldn't see eye to eye with my family about the whole Ron thing. Lost a lot of respect for them that night when I got him to the hospital, and they told me that it was the wrong thing to do and I should've just let him bleed 'cause street kids are used to it. It was a tough decision to leave, and it's been rough, but I don't regret it."

Haru: "I do regret it, and I am still conflicted on whether I should go back or not. But I just don't have it in me to take care of my father for even another minute. And - well. I'm needed here. Right?"

Yamilé: "Sure you are. For me, I was living a dead end life. Who knew if I was ever even going to get a job in our home town - by that I mean Teo's, Ron's, and mine. I need more. I can die of heat stroke or catch something nasty anywhere, I don't need to stay home for that. I need to see more of this world so badly."

What is your ideal job?

Ron: "Something that pays? I don't know. People like me don't exactly hold stable jobs."

Teo: "What's that supposed to mean, people like you? I think being a bandit, this whole thing we're doing right now, is as close to a dream job as it gets for me. We're sharing a tiny space, and we never know where the next meal comes from, but it feels free. You know?"

Haru: "Architect."

Yamilé: "Why an architect? That sounds boring. I would like to be an actress. A scream queen, or a romantic lead."

What will life look like when you complete your main goal?

Ron: "I'm supposed to have a main goal? I'm just winging this right now! Things are honestly pretty great as they are, and I just want it to stay as it is." (Uh oh, Ron.) "It's pretty sweet to have people around to rely on, and to get a chance to travel and see more of the planet. Lele's got the right idea there."

Teo: "What he said. Maybe I'd like to get some of my writing published, too. Can't actually imagine myself being famous. Would be pretty sick though, wouldn't it? No idea what life after that could look like. Do poets still get book deals?"

Haru: "My main goal in life... I would like to figure out where and how to help the most effectively. We aren't in a good state. The only people having a good round of existence right now are the ones who are extremely rich. I would like to do something useful with my life that changes that, at least for some people."

Yamilé: "Well, now mine sounds lousy in comparison, thanks a lot. I just want to be famous, no matter what. I want my face somewhere on a huge mural, blown up to fifty times its size. After that? Who knows! Whatever happens, happens."

When were you most tired?

Ron: "Like, yesterday. Shit's tough when you've got a bunk mate who snores like a bear choking on jello."

Teo: "When I fucking get you - "

Haru: "Right now. I am feeling the most tired I have ever felt in my life right now."

Yamilé: "Pull his hair! Get him!"

What would it take for you to give up on your goal?

Ron: "Still just coasting, sorry! As long as I'm still alive, I'm good. And that's not something I'm gonna give up on."

Teo: "Stop talking when I'm trying to kick your ass. I don't really care about the whole being published thing, and with leaving home, I'm pretty sure I've given up on it already anyways."

Haru: "I don't think I will ever change my mind or lose focus, really. I am a very determined person."

Yamilé: "But don't you ever just want to do something for yourself? For me, something better would need to come along before I give up on the fame dream. And - you know, I know that it's just a dream. Most people don't make it, one way or another. But it's fun to think about, isn't it?"

What is a flaw that you have?

Ron: "Can't keep my damn mouth shut to save my life."

Teo: "I've got a bit of a temper."

Haru: "...I suppose I put myself last."

Yamilé: "Nothing, I'm pretty cool."

I am tagging @rotting-moon-writes @fortunatetragedy

@cowboybrunch @fairytaleinagem @noblebs @davycoquette

Your questions:

What is one thing you'd change about the person you're closest to?

What is the best thing you've ever been told?

What is a good gift to get for you?

[toastthewolfie]

extremely long song thing regarding Ezra

yeah uh. Was supposed to be short and whatnot but uh. Ended up like this :’)

Life's alright in Devil Town

Yeah, right, no one's gonna catch us now

Dad has bought a new car now

We're fine, no one's gonna catch us now (okay)

This mostly refers to Ezra’s life before the war, how in their eyes, everything is fine, great even! Even though Echo, who was significantly more aware of the situation at the time, would help them and their twin brother, Otto, hide when their father got drunk and pretended like it was all fine, leading to Ezra and Otto having incredibly idealized versions of their childhood before the war while Echo’s is very fucked up

You said something dumb again

She's mad, at least that's what they say

Mum and daddy aren't in love

That's fine, I'll settle for two birthdays

This happens when their parents divorce when Ezra is 6. Their parents got into an argument due to something Ezra did (ask their father for help on something and he snapped and yelled as Ezra to go ask their mother, this lead to their mother confronting him and leading to them agreeing to get divorced. Ezra internalizes this and starts to view themself as the catalyst to this, even though they don’t outwardly show it.

Devil Town is colder in the summertime

I'll lose my mind at least another thousand times

Hold my hand tight, we'll make it another night

I still get a little scared of something new

But I feel a little safer when I'm with you

Falling doesn't feel so bad when I know you've fallen this way too

This mostly refers to Ezra as a medic for the Yatritian military. I cant really explain it as theres a part of another song that focuses on this so this doesnt really apply to Ezra but it kidna does so.

We're all dead in Devil Town

That's fine 'cause nothing's gonna scare us now

We're all in our dressing gowns

Mine's white and stripy, yours is green and brown

Again, doesn’t really apply to Ezra.

I forgot my name again

I think that's something worth remembering

Spiders in your favourite shoes

Just leave them be 'cause they're more scared of you

This kinda refers to Ezra’s progression as a character. How they left “Ella” behind and are now “Captain Williams”. They aren’t Ezra, the rising star medic/sniper of Icarus. They aren’t Fade, the ruthless solider of DEF. They’re Captain Williams of the Reinstated Icarus, and even if they’re rough and broken, they’re still a fundamentally kind person who genuinely cares (even if they’re much different and beating someone isn’t below them anymore)

Devil Town is colder in the summertime

I'll lose my mind at least another thousand times

Hold my hand tight, we'll make it another night

I still get a little scared of something new

But I feel a little safer when I'm with you

Falling doesn't feel so bad when I know you've fallen this way too

Again, same as before.

Devil Town is colder in the summertime

I'll lose my mind at least another thousand times

Hold my hand tight, we'll make it another night

I still get a little scared of something new

But I feel a little safer when I'm with you

Falling doesn't feel so bad when I know you've fallen this way too

Again, same as before.

Scotland - McCarffety 

What kinda God lets children die?

This refers to Ezra’s first deployment as a medic, to a field hospital dedicated to civilian casualties to the pediatric department. Ezra, for most of their life, was raised to think that the gods above were kind and caring (gods do actually exist in my world, and while the religion based around them is loosely based on Christianity, any character’s perception of them is NOT a reflection of my thoughts on religion, believe whatever you want, it’s cool man👍) but after seeing so many children with gashes where eyes should be, or kids with their chest cavity blown out, Ezra doesn’t believe that anymore. If the gods are so kind and caring, why are they letting this happen?

They probably went in her room

They probably thought she's asleep

This refers to everyone’s perception that Ezra is doing okay, despite this, when they very much are not.

What kinda God lets children die?

Same as stated above

They probably thought that she stayed the same

But she's not the same, no, no, not the same girl

This is based around Echo’s perception of Ezra. How Echo thinks Ezra is still child innocence incarnate and that they’re still that same little girl when Ezra has changed so, so much.

Bodies will wonder, and eyes will ponder

I dont really know but i think this kinda refers to Ezra’s first meltdown as what else could they do? They’re 15 at this point. They’re still a kid, hell, they arent even old enough to legally enlist! They lied about their age.

I need to know, will I make it?

I need to know, will I make it?

Based on Ezra’s fear of dying in the war and right after they get crushed by the building that cuts off their leg and is found by Whisper, Azure, and Vagrant (a character y’all haven’t seen yet)

He said, "grow up, grow up, grow up, grow up" yeah, yeah

"Grow up, grow up, grow up, grow up" yeah, yeah

"Grow up, grow up, grow up, grow up" yeah, yeah

"Grow up, grow up, grow up, grow up" yeah, yeah

This refers to all the stages Ezra went through during the war. How they had to change from this loving and openly kind individual into someone else. Someone cruel. Someone who was barely even human in terms of emotion (and the subsequent healing that came with joining the reinstated icarus)

[pwnyta]

man idk I’ve been contemplating re-reading or re-watching some of MHA up until like. Where the shittening begins but I’m honestly having to ask myself if this has just retroactively ruined it for me. This is my game of thrones moment. When something had all this potential on the table and it was going strong and I was hopeful for this fun manga about superhero kids and their friendships and the way they drove each other to improve but all that has slowly been pushed aside to sprint to the end. Idk I’m not even exactly mad at horikoshi bc lord knows Shounen jump works their artists like dogs and the results can sometimes be worse than just ‘manga ends poorly’, so I’m like. Fine that this will probably be better for his health. But I’m still sad. ):

I feel ya man. It blows... for me it was either the villain arc or Endeavors arc I cant remember what came first but it was one of those two that made me go 'Damn this blows.' and then the hospital getting blown up and Gigantomachia ripping through the city was the 'Oh this series is DEAD dead. Theres no coming back from that.' and that was true... there was no coming back from that.

Yeah i guess youre right... its probably not all Horis fault but its hard not to blame him at least a little since Ive had some of the same problems with his writing the entire time (like Bakugo being a dog shit flat ass character or just random stops and starts to big world building potential moments like Stains 'corrupt hero society' or even Quirk bigotry that could have/SHOULD have been brought up so much sooner or was shown after specific points (like Toko losing control during the camp arc.)

Its very frustrating. its a very similar frustration I had for Bleach when that went down hill...

How the fuck does Oda keep OP so reasonable after all this time. That motherfucker is BUILT DIFFERENT.

[siriusblack-the-third]

Si tu meurs, je mourrais aussi

"I'm going to murder her."

James looked up at Sirius, and Sirius felt his heart clench at the sight. He was lying on the hospital bed, splayed out black hair a stark contrast against the pristine white sheets. There was a bright pink burn scar all over the upper left side of his face, clashing horribly with the rest of his tanned brown skin. The worst, however, was his eye.

The left eye had lost its warm chocolate colour; it was now a dull, eerie steel grey that made Sirius want to cry and scream and throw shit around. Jamie's eye. His Jamie's beautiful brown eyes.

"I didn't lose my eyesight, you know," James said comfortingly, and Sirius let out a mirthless laugh. How ironic, that the one on the hospital bed with third degree burns was comforting the perfectly healthy person.

"I know," he replied, running his fingers through James hair in an ineffectual effort to try and untangle the knots. "That doesn't mean—"

Sirius can't get the words out. They lodge in his throat, reminding him of his terror when he realised the spell that had caught James, of the sheer mayhem he caused when he portkey'd into St Mungo's with James' limp, half-burnt body in his arms and screams for help on his lips. He thinks of the door to the operation room closing in his face, thinks of the six hours he spent pacing in the waiting room, still covered in James' blood, of the smell of burning flesh that clung to the very air around him and refused to leave him alone. He wants to tell James that he was utterly terrified, wants to say that he had nearly blown apart the battlefield in his efforts to get to James, had locked himself in the hospital bathroom and cried when he heard one of the Healers say James' heart had stopped.

The words lodge in his throat.

Instead, he bows down to gently touch his forehead to James' collarbone, nuzzling carefully into his jaw. "I love you," he murmurs, because that is all he can say— all he needs to say. James will understand. He always does.

"I love you too," comes the immediate reply, and the words never fail to make his heart clench with joy, but this time the joy is met with fear. Fear that the next time, Sirius won't be quick enough, skilled enough, careful enough, and that it would get James killed. Fear that if James died in this war, Sirius would lose himself.

Bellatrix's mad laughter still rings in his ears every time there is a lull in the noise around him.

His curls the fingers of one hand into a fist even as the other hand drags gently through James' hair, and presses a soft kiss to James' collarbone.

"I'm still here, Sirius," James whispered. "I'm still alive. I'm not going to leave you."

He doesn't make a promise. Sirius doesn't expect him to. This is war, and they both know that more often than not, people do not come out it unharmed and without losses. There is every chance that in a future battle, either James or Sirius might die. They know better than to make promises they may not be able to keep.

"I'm still going to murder her," Sirius whispers back, and there is steel in his voice— the kind that tells him the Black Madness is close to the surface.

"I'd be mad if you didn't," James answers instantly, and Sirius snickers inspite of himself. James chuckles quietly with him, and his chin knocks against the crown of Sirius' head, making him hiss.

"I'm not kidding Jamie," he says, so quiet it's almost inaudible. "I am going to rend her limb from limb with my bare hands."

James gives him a look, and Sirius realises that James was aware of that. James knew, and he still—

Sirius breathes out. "You, James Potter, never fail to surprise me with how willing you are to accept me."

James chuffs in faux annoyance. "You're my best friend, you idiot. You're my lover. I know you inside out, and I love everything about you."

Sirius smiles, soft and fond, and brushes a lingering kiss over James' lips. "I was so terrified, Jamie," he chokes out. "Fuck, I thought you were already dead, and then the Healers shouted about your heart stopping and I—"

A wet sob rips itself from his throat, and he feels James raise his hand to tug gently at his hair. Two tears fall from Sirius' eyes onto James' cheeks and slide down to his jaw.

"Shhh, Sirius, it's okay, I'm fine."

"You're not, though," Sirius sniffs, lifting a hand to wipe the salty water from James' face. "Your eye—"

"It looks kind of cool, doesn't it?"

Sirius stares incredulously at him. For a second, there is nothing but silence. Then, both of them burst into giggles. If Sirius' laughter sounds a little more wild than it is supposed to be, James does not say anything.

"You should sleep," he says to James when they have calmed down. "The Healer told me you need to rest."

James groans theatrically, but Sirius gives him a raised eyebrow, and he subsides with a huff. "Fine," he mutters petulantly. "But only if you sing me a song."

Sirius laughs silently, and nods. When he starts singing, he changes the tune from the original to something quiet, soft, and simple.

"Tant qu'l'amour innondera mes matins, tant qu'mon corps frémira sous tes mains," he sings, and James' eyes flutter shut. "Peu m'importe les problèmes."

The song is a couple of decades old, but Sirius has heard his grandmother Melania sing it for Arcturus. Right now, he thinks it fits the situation very well.

"J'irais décrocher la Lune, J'irais voler la fortune, Si tu me le demandais."

James' breathing slows. He is at the brink of sleep but not yet completely sunk into his mind, and so Sirius keeps singing, voice soft and hand running gently through James' hair.

"Si un jour, la vie t'arrache à moi, Si tu meurs, que tu sois loin de moi," Sirius can't help the hitch in his breath, but he swallows down his tears and sings, voice trembling with the memory of how close James had come to death. "Peu m'importe si tu m'aimes, Car moi je mourrais aussi."

He stops and stares down at his James, tucking a black curl behind his ear and leaning down to press his lips to his forehead, murmuring the last two lines into his skin. "Mon amour, crois-tu qu'on s'aime? Dieu réunit ceux qui s'aiment."

.

@padfootastic @pan-diasaster @narcissa-black-supermacy @fiendishfyre @in-flvx @ad1thi @the-chaosbringer @xxmysticrose18

Explanation: James got blasted with fiendfyre in the face point blank by Bellatrix. His left eye is now grey, but the loss of eyesight isn't severe. This comes from my own experiences in the last year and a half. For context, here's a badly taken photo of my eyes:

(the eye looks blue bc of the filter but it's actually grey)

[brainddeadd]

BRAINDEAD REVIEWS

THE WALKING DEAD: Season 5

Overall thoughts

They’ve been on the run and fighting for their lives for so long, they’ve forgotten how to exist peacefully and without fear - without the suspicion and without feeling like everyone and everything is out to get them 

S5, ep 1

‘Then’ THEN WHAT 

BEFORE THE WORLD WENT TO SHIT ???

WHOS SCREAMING 

Were they forced into being pieces of shit at Terminus ????

‘Now’ ok 

They gassed them ?!?!?!?!

THEY GOT THE KID FROM THE HOUSE IN SEASON 4 

They gonna chop them in half or something ?????

THEY SLIT THE KIDS THROAT

IMAGINE SURVIVING A FUCKING ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE JUST TO HAVE SOME DICK SLIT YOUR THROAT 

And now the place is being blown up

Jesus christ 

CAROL NO

TURN AROUND 

“Bitch looked like a weapon with a weapon.” You’re correct but don’t you dare call her a bitch 

Carol not believing a word that dick says - queen shit 

“Horrible shit just stacks up..” You are the horrible shit man 

ITS CAROL BLOWING THE PLACE UP 

HELL YEAH 

Carol I love you 

On fire zombies.. well shit 

Rick what a man 

WHAT 

THE 

FUCK

ARE 

THESE 

PEOPLE 

DOING 

JESUS 

CHRIST 

The shit from all the people they’ve killed - the teddies from children 

LEAVE THE BABY OUT OF IT FUCKER 

Eugene is full of shit 

100% full of shit 

CAROL AND DARYL HUG 

YES

REUNITED AT LAST 

HIS CRYING AND PUTTING HIS FACE ON HER SHOULDER 

OJSDNFJDENFKDS

WNDFJKDN

DCJNWRIJVNAEUIVRSKVWAPIREJNDV

REUNITED

YES

That’s quite a group they’ve got 

Who the fuck took over terminus tho???

“You’re either the butcher or the cattle.” Yeah but y’all chose the wrong cattle this time 

S5, ep 2

“Will you have us?” Dude you’re her family 

Daryl just.. being there for Carol, knowing what she needs, accepting that she doesn’t wanna talk about it 

WHAT WAS THAT

WHO WAS THAT 

“We surrender.” He’s so funny man 🤣🤣🤣

Not Daryl being confused that the Pastor is puking after seeing them kill walkers like pookie not everyone is like you 

Gabriel - I don’t trust him

The loyalty to Rick is amazing 

Gabriel is too scared to not be hiding something 

Bob, this is the world now. It’s not gonna get better. Eugene is full of shit. 

DROPPING THE WATER AS HE’S ASKING IF SHE WANTS HIM TO CARRY ONE OF HERS 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 HER LIL “hmm no” 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 that was 100% a blooper they left in 

“It was a stack of boxes.. and a mop.. and I tripped.” 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

‘YOU’LL BURN FOR THIS’ well fuck 

Where is Bob going 

Tara thank you for telling Maggie the truth 

Oh damn Rick ok slay 

THE CAR THAT TOOK BETH 

Who the fuck

What the fuck

Its the Terminus fucks 

EATING PEOPLE 

PARDON

OH MY GOD

THEYVE TAKEN HIS LEG

OH MY GOD

“If it makes you feel any better, you taste much better than we thought you would.” HOW IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MAKE HIM FEEL BETTER 

S5, ep 3

I’m still reeling from the fact that they’re cannibals 

“You join us or feed us.” That’s not much of a choice buddy 

Gareth wanting Carol - gonna have to go through Daryl and me first buddy boy 

Bob losing his shit laughing because they’ve just eaten him when he’s been bitten - karma 

There’s the ‘A’ again - what the fuck does that mean 

I get Abraham wanting to leave but come on man, Eugenes full of shit 

Gareth is a fucker 

HE SHOT OFF HIS FINGER HELL YEAH 

They got what they deserve 

MAGGIE AND GLENN LEAVING NO

DARYL

Where’s Carol?

Who ?????

S5, ep 4

Beth ?!?!? 

In a hospital ?!?!?!

Police ?!?!?!?

“So you owe us.” FUCK NO

WHAT 

THE 

ACTUAL 

FUCK

THE BODY DOWN THE ELEVATOR SHAFT 

Ok yeah I kinda skipped the rest cause I don’t really like Beth - but ik wack shit happens to her 

S5, ep 5

Eugene is so full of shit holy fuck 

Who the fuck is beating the shit out of someone ???? Pls don’t let it be Rick 

ABRAHAM - flashback ??? Yep 

“Really need some ass first.” Why would you.. don’t.. no yuck.. ugh men 

FUCK EUGENE 

He put crushed glass in fuel line 

Oh god what was the fire truck keeping locked away 

Yo what the fuck is going on in Abrahams past 

He is Insane 

“I’m not a scientist!” THE FUCK YOU MEAN BOY

OH 

I 

FUCKEN 

KNEW 

IT

EUGENES A PIECE OF SHIT 

Fuck Eugene 

S5, ep 6

They really want Beth back 

A woman’s and children’s shelter that Carol went to 

Daryl stopping her from killing the walkers of people she probably knew - doing it for her and burning them 

Whos following my people around 

“Looks like a dog sat in paint and wiped its ass all over the place.” 🤣🤣🤣

I love the way Daryl says ‘stop’ when someone’s (Carol’s) saying funny shit and he doesn’t wanna laugh 

“You don’t know me.” “Yep. You keep telling yourself that.”

Is that the dude from the hospital?? The one that tried to help Beth escape ??

Daryl taking a child abuse survivor book, I love him 

THE VAN

ON THE BRIDGE 

SHIT 

“It’s like you were a kid. Now you’re a man.” 

“We ain’t ashes.”

“I already helped you once. It ain’t happening again.” Damn ok 

THEY JUST RAN OVER CAROL 

SO NOW THEY’VE GOT BETH AND CAROL 

OH THEYRE FUCKED 

S5, ep 7

I still don’t trust the pastor man 

Maggie pulling a gun on Abraham when he threatens Rosita slayyyy

Fuck Eugene 

Fuck the guys in the hospital - those cops are shit 

The walkers on the ground that’s a lot in the burnt area 

Don’t hurt Daryl fuck 

Handful of Dixon ass - mood 

DON’T TRY AND FEED DARYL TO A WALKER BITCH 

USING A WALKERS HEAD AS A WEAPON KFNJRNFOO YUCK 

What is the pastor man doing??

Beth being sneaky is not what I thought I’d ever see 

Fucken pastor man 

Why the fuck would you trust the cop you just kidnapped ?!?!? Are you stooopidddddd

S5, ep 8

RICK HITTING HIM WITH A CAR 

I mean.. at least he didn’t let the walkers get him

Maggie and Glenn are back finally

Go get Beth

Beth killing that dickhead cop

Don’t fucken ask for the kid - let him go 

Daryl and Rick squaring up for Noah 

BETH STABBED THE COP

BETH GOT SHOT IN THE HEAD BY THE COP

DARYL KILLING THE COP - shit he’s pissed 

DARYL CRYING

Daryl carrying Beth out and Maggie falling to her knees 

Holy shit 

That.. fuck ok

S5, ep 9

Noah’s family 

Finding his mother like that 

OH MY GOD 

TYRESE 

NO 

GETTING BIT BY NOAHS SIBLING 

Why is Tyrese SEEING DEAD PEOPLE 

Cutting off his arm like that 

Holy shit 

Who the fuck decapitated those walkers???

NO TYRESE NO

S5, ep 10

Daryl don’t eat the worm

Please don’t eat the worm

Oh for fucks sake

He ate the worm 

Y’all can’t die like this cmon 

How they keeping the baby alive ?!?!?

Carol telling Daryl to feel it and then kissing his forehead in what is probably one of the only moments of kindness and gentleness he’s ever experienced is WAY too much for me to handle 

THE WOMAN TIED UP IN THE BOOT OF THE CAR AND LEFT TO DIE 

The feral dogs - good lord what are they going to do 

SASHA KILLED THE DOGS 

THEY EAT THE DOGS 

I GET IT BUT HOLY EW 

Daryl putting the cigarette out on his skin fuck

CRYING NO 

The water being left for them - who the fuck ??

GLENNS SMILE AT THE RAIN !!!!!!!!!!

Carl covering the baby with his hat so she doesn’t get too wet 

STORM 

Bby Carl sleeping finally 

“We tell ourselves that we are the walking dead.” “We ain’t them.”

OH THATS A LOT OF WALKERS 

He cleaned the music box for Maggie 🥹🥹🥹

HOLY FUCK 

THAT WAS A BIG ASS STORM 

Aaron ??

How does he know Rick ?!?!?!

S5, ep 11

Daryl going absolutely insane when Aaron is brought in 

“Audition for membership” the fuck 

AYO RICK 

“Long enough to see that despite a lack of food and water, you never turned on each other.” They’re family dude 

“You can trust me.” They’re running a bit low on trust at the moment buddy 

Driving through the walkers like that is wild 

Why so freaked out over a flare gun ???

Alexandria 

Eric 

S5, ep 12

“We brought dinner.” 🤣🤣🤣 

Don’t mind them, they haven’t been house trained yet 

Deanna and Reg 

The beard really makes Rick look feral 

“I’ve killed people.” Yeah how many now?? 

“Sounds like I’d wanna be part of your family.” me too lady, me too 

“I want you to help us survive.”

THATS SO MANY GUNS

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 Carol struggling 

OK WHYD HE SHAVE IT OFF COMPLETELY 

Jessie - Ron & Sam

“I won’t bite.” He might 

“The boy and the baby, they deserve a roof.” Pookie 

GUTTING THE ANIMAL ON RICK’S FRONT PORCH IS FERAL OF YOU DARYL DIXON 

Them thinking that being neighbours is too much distance - staying in one house together 

I love everyones collective shock at Rick’s shaved face 

“And I’m just trying to figure Mr Dixon out, but I will.” I wouldn’t count on it hunny 

Daryl please for the love of God, have a shower 

Rick’s panic - bless him - “I was in the middle of losing my mind.” 

Mikey and Enid 

Oh poor sweet baby Carl - bless you child 

“I didn’t just lose her. I killed her.” Jesus 

They’ve been on the run and fighting for their lives for so long, they’ve forgotten how to exist peacefully and without fear - without the suspicion and without feeling like everyone and everything is out to get them 

“They’re weak. And I don’t want us to get weak too.” I genuinely don’t think that’s possible Carl 

CAROL 

“DEN MOTHER” 

“NICE ENOUGH TO PROTECT ME”

WOMAN 

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

DARYL’S FACE WHEN SHE COMES OUT IN THOSE CLOTHES - MAN LITERALLY FROZE 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

THAT WAS A LAUGH  

“Have you taken a shower yet?” “Mm-hmm.” When? The 80s???

“Im gonna hose you down in your sleep.” Please do. I think he has to smell like a bio-hazard by now. 

“You look ridiculous.” How kind of you Dixon 

Enid sneaking out ok 

Aiden and Nicholas 

CARL DON’T FOLLOW HER 

Who took the gun Rick hid???

They WHAT with the walker ??? The fuck ???? 😐😐😐

Aiden swinging on Glenn - Glenn dropping him with a single hit - Daryl immediately jumping in - Daryls growling and feral dog pacing - yes 👀

When your own mother thanks someone for knocking you on your ass you know its bad 

“.. Then we’ll just take this place.” Oh FUCK

S5, ep 13

Sleeping on the floor in their own places cause its what they’re used to 

Olivia - pantry and weapons 

“They just keep getting luckier.” .. “We’re here now.” Facts 

Them pretending to be teaching Carol how to shoot while they make plans - iconic considering she’s a queen 

‘W’ on the walker’s forehead ????? Or ‘M’ ??

Imagine trying to get the jump on Daryl - could never be me 

Daryl’s extra hot these last 2 episodes 

YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU CAN’T TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HUMANS AND WALKERS BY SOUND ?!?!?! HOW ARE YOU ALIVE ??!?!?!?

She has high hopes for a world in the middle of a zombie apocalypse 

“People are the real threat now.” They kinda always were tho dude 

A welcoming party ??? Seriously ???

“We can’t use Daryl. They’re watching every move he makes.” Leave my Pookie alone 

“I get to be invisible again.” DFNDWOSKNFLKDKNFIJ I HATE YO EX HUSBAND 

Horsey 

Knowing that Norman is terrified of horses makes this hilarious to watch 

“I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” Pookie 

“You used to be somebody’s huh? Now you’re just yours.” That’s oddly profound 

Tobin - weapons 

“The more afraid they get, the more stupid they get.” 

Daryl going to save the horse 

Walkers eating animals - I knew it but fuck it sucks 

NO

NO 

NO 

NO 

NO 

NO 

NOT THE HORSE 

NO 

NO 

Killing the walkers that kill the horse 

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

THATS THE SADDEST DEATH SO FAR 

Daryl lurking outside the party 

“I said try. You did.” 

Pete - doctor 

Pete and Jessie have red ‘A’ on their hands 

Idk how I feel about Jessie 

“I’m just saying, we all lost things.” Yeah but you’ve been behind a wall for god knows how long while Rick and his family were fighting for their lives from cannibals and rapists

Spencer - one of Deanna’s sons 

Pookie, baby, stop eating like that 

“👹Thanks👹”

Aaron has a job for Daryl - and a bike 

YOU WANT DARYL DIXON TO BE A RECRUITER ?!?!?!?

“You want me risking mine, right?” Such a fair comment 

Was that a flicker of emotion on your face I just saw Daryl Dixon ?!??!

“Thanks.. 👹I’ll get you some👹 rabbits👹” 

God Carol don’t get caught 

Not the fucking kid 

CAROL

DAMN 

“You’ll be outside the walls, far, far away, tied to a tree.” Fuck ok 

Why are people expecting them to just.. bounce back into ‘normality’ after god knows how long fighting for their lives ???

RICK

NO

NO

ABSOLUTELY NOT 

It’s a zombie apocalypse and you’re worried about your book club ???? The fuck is wrong with you 

SASHA BBY CALM 

I KNOW THEY’RE CRAZY 

KEEP IT TOGETHER 

S5, ep 14

Pastor man ripping up the Bible 

BIKE 

DARYL 

DARYL ON BIKE 

KSJDFNORNFVOIK

Reg agreeing to teach Noah about architecture 

I’m just waiting for shit to hit the fan 

“Now you’re going to die.” On the music is ironic and not at all helpful 

EUGENE SHUT THE FUCK UP

Why are you questioning Glenn?!?!?

Aiden you are a fucking idiot and I hate you 

Glad he’s dead

Tara pls don’t be dead 

Eugene pls die 

This fucken kid is really annoying Jesus 

Fuck Aiden’s not dead 

“Let’s be friends man.” Why you being threatening then Pete ?

Aiden deserves it 

Pete’s abusing Jessie - calling it now 

Fuck Nicholas man - walkers got Noah because Nicholas is a coward 

Pastor man thinks that Satan is at play in the walls of Alexandria - through Rick and his family 

Carol also thinks Pete is abusing Jessie 

“The day will come when they’ll put their own lives before yours and everyone else’s and they will destroy everything you have here, everything you’re working so hard to build.” 

“You’re gonna have to kill him.” Uh.. ok. 

S5, ep 15

The music is a vibe 

Sasha sweetie you ok? 

OI CAROL MADE THAT FOR YOU

DON’T YOU DARE IGNORE IT 

Light off in the distance - Daryl leave it alone 

Nicholas you piece of shit 

Also don’t trust Spencer 

Actually - I don’t trust any of the people in Alexandria 

She knew he was beating his wife and she did nothing about it - get fucked 

They’ve been fighting for so long they need it 

Who’s hacking up walkers ????

THE WOMAN TIED TO A TREE AND LEFT TO DIE 

‘W’ again 

“If it’s gotten worse, it means he’s killed you.” Facts 

Rick why this chick ??

Don’t lie Rick, you have done this shit foe others 

“Someone who’s trying not to kill you.” I get it, but like.. please do 

“We’re the ones who live.” 

“We have to control who lives here.” “Thats never been more clear to me than right now.” So Rick’s gotta go but the wife beater can stay? Get fucked 

MICHONNE ?!?!?!

S5, ep 16

Morgan? 

Who’s the dick with the gun? 

HES GOT A ‘W’

Y’all are getting yo asses beat 

Why’d you roll up on a man with a gun that doesn’t work?????

DARYL

YO THIS EPISODE IS OVER AN HOUR LONG THE FUCK 

“Because these people are children and children like stories.” 

Sasha what the fuck are you doing? 

Are the people they sent away going to cause problems ???

Side note: Carl and Rick have the same eyes - the casting director did a good job there 

WHO RIGGED THE TRUCKS 

‘W’ 

Using the chain fuckkkkk

‘Trap. Bad people coming. Don’t stay.’ Well fuck 

“And then who would believe I did it because I didn’t like you?” Carol my queen 

“You’re a small, weak nothing.” Slay 

NICHOLAS I WILL KILL YOU

HOW DARE YOU 

LEAVE GLENN ALONE 

Why in the FUCK would you make it so the wife beater can see his wife’s house when you’ve separated him ?????

Ayeeeeee we got a Daryl chuckle !!!!

MORGAN SAVING DARYL AND AARON 

Please let the Pastor man die 

Rosita meddling to get Abraham and Eugene to talk - mother of 2 shitty kids behaviour 

NO

DON’T LEAVE THE GATE OPEN 

YOU FUCKER 

Don’t fucking leave Glenn to die you bastard 

“I’m still with you.” Obviously 

RICK 

LEAVE THE GATE 

PASTOR MAN HAS PROBABLY DONE IT ON PURPOSE TO FRAME YOU 

FUCKEN HELL

WALK AWAY 

“I think I wanna die.” Sasha you’ve been through hell and you’re not back yet. 

Pastor man can rot 

GUYS

WHILE YOU’RE DECIDING IF HE’S WORTH IT, HE’S SAVING YOUR LIVES FROM WALKERS 

Oh thank god Glenn 

Who shot the walker on Rick ??? Sasha ????

“Simply put, there is a vast ocean of shit that you people don’t know shit about. Rick knows every fine grain of said shit and then some.” Yes, yes he does. 

Rick, bby, that’s not how you do this 

Nicholas begging for his life - as he should 

‘W’ has photos of Rick and Carl -  fuck 

Pete killing Reg 

“Rick.. do it.” Oh so he can kill when its convenient for YOU 

Daryl and Aaron bringing Moran to Rick, just as Rick kills Pete 

[plumbogs]

While Mary sleeps, a strange man appears outside at 6 in the morning. He was dropped off by the rare bus that runs to Brookton and walked the rest of the way.

He uses a key to the house to go inside and start doing his laundry.

This is Zach. He's her cousin. They share the dead grandmother that left the house behind.

Beans doesn't make much of a guard dog. He rolls right over and lets the man get to bonding. He's not useful for much beyond digging holes.

She sleeps in, unaware of her guest, until about 11 in the morning.

He's pretty pissed about how messy the place is, so he just starts cleaning up.

Mary finally drags herself off of that mattress on the floor and heads to the oddly-clean bathroom. She decides to question who the fuck is in her house after she's done in there. He gives her the "don't you remember me, we hung out as kids sometimes" treatment, and slowly it comes back to her. Then he has to drop the whole "well I don't really have a place to stay right now haha, I was hanging out with friends but that's not a long term solution" and she asks him how much money he has on him.

He has a grand total of 500 simoleons on him, which is frankly more than she does, so she lets him stay as long as he doesn't trash the place. Which, you know, he'd have a remark about considering the fact that he just cleaned up her messes, but he's trying to leave a good impression. He helps himself to one of her many frozen dinners while mildly annoyed, because he's a cuisine guy.

She goes out to get the mail and meets a woman walking by. Might as well get to know her. Her name's Edith.

Mary invites her in for a carbonated beverage, because she's hospitable like that.

She doesn't really care for Mary, but she does watch a game of sports with Zach, who does actually like sports a fair amount. They also put together proper beds since they have the money to leave behind the floor mattress setup. Life's good.

Mary was distracted by the arrival of a guest she did care to see. Tara and her weird hat have charmed her, it seems. She brings up how she's been watching the entire Hellraiser franchise lately, even though the first three are the only ones worth watching.

Tara is blown away by her analysis.

She's sooo obsessed with her it's not even funny.

Zach senses that the bed was unmade and immediately goes upstairs to fix that. Come on, man. Let them have some privacy. Mary's off work tonight and Zach doesn't have a job yet, so they turn into bed eventually.

[the-graves-family]

8. Overcrowded ER

There is still blood on his hands and shirt, and he’s not sure what to do with himself. He’s already told the medics a thousand times he’s not injured, and he can’t understand why they just look at him with disbelief on their faces.

Every door slammed open, every object that falls, every loud noise reminds him of the exact moment he saw his life go up in flames.

Some part of him knows he shouldn’t be taking up space here, he should go out and find his platoon sergeant. Stop disrupting the medics. Report. Do something other than just. Stand here.

But Adam was taken away and he can’t—

It just plays in his head again and again. Waving across the base, Adam’s small grin as he turned to walk towards the repair station, the way the humvee they had all been gathered around had just—

The searing heat and concussive force of the blast.

He’s already been checked for burns and other tertiary injuries. Nothing. He’d been too far away. He knows one of the other mechanics is still lying dead outside. Adam has the worst injuries of the survivors. The others are being taken care of.

Someone shoves a paper cup full of something hot into his hands, and he realizes he’s been sat down with a shock blanket over his shoulders. Guess the medics decided something needed to be done about his hovering.

He should be outside with his unit, helping with the cordoning and checking for more IEDs. He could be written up for unjustifiably taking medical resources. It could hurt his career, especially since no one knows he and Adam are—

Fuck his career.

Fuck anyone who tries to get him away from here, fuck the whole system that makes them hide away, his fiancé almost bled out in his arms.

“—ta. Huerta!”

Hands on his shoulders and he’s staring up at his superior officer. Right. Yes. David has to take a backseat for now. Staff Sergeant Huerta is still on duty, and he needs to start acting like it. The base is thrown into chaos, they need to get it under control.

“Sir, I—”

“Are you capable, right now?”

He could say no. He could, justifiably, ask for a few minutes after just seeing first hand several people get blown up. But there’s a part of him that looks around, at the frazzled medics, at the crowded space, hears the orders being barked outside, and realizes that there are more people in the world other than Adam.

Even if it doesn’t feel like it.

So David swallows dryly and nods, shrugging off the blanket and downing the coffee in one go. “Yessir.” People rely on him, he can’t break down now. When all is said and done, he’ll come back, and his love will have survived. And he won’t care that he’ll be missing a limb, and that he’ll be discharged. David will take him home and give him all he’ll need. It will be just like they talked about. A wedding. A house.

Kids.

His uniform is still bloody when they tell him Adam has been airlifted to a nearby hospital.

Washing the blood off with trembling hands, he doesn’t think for a moment that it’s the last time he’s going to see the love of his life.

Why would it be?

[alyosiuscreightonward]

Dear Diary.

I don’t have the words to express my feelings about this situation however I’m still processing it all.

When I got a ping on my phone from her mom. I was like oh okay. Here’s the conversation:

Mom: I’m sorry you have had to put up with Childzillah and her toxic boyfriends. I keep trying to get her in therapy and take her meds everyday. She was not brought to be like this 😞

ACW: I’ve been in therapy since I was 8 years old. I had gone to Blank Anonymous meetings over the years. I get it. I’ve got my own stories. I’m going through shit myself and I too am looking to get on meds. I’m just going to say that Accept, Acknowledge, Affirm, Responsibility and Ownership are the keys to self compassion and self care. I hope that one day she will realize that therapy is a good thing and maybe even a Codependency Anonymous meeting would be helpful. Regardless I’m here for her and if chooses to seek help I’ll be there for her.

Mom: Well I appreciate you taking the high road. Jaye, Bexx, Rhi and I always say to her do you realize what you are putting Aloysius through. I have tried everything with her to get her help since she was 16. I am always here if you need to vent. We are all on your side ❤️👍🙏

ACW: TYVM, Mom. Let us all hope and pray for her. I know that I am prepared to help her. I too want to held etc but in the immortal words of Whitney Houston, “I’d rather be alone than be unhappy.” I’m still working on myself and each day is a struggle but I have yet to go. We all do. One day we’ll love ourselves enough to have that partner who will do the same for us and we’ll be able to give it back, but right now we’re just on the road with the potholes etc and we’re working hard to get there. It’s true, life is a journey with a series of tollbooths and we all pay the price and hopefully it’s a learning moment to help us keep going forward onto bigger and better things. Until then, keep on trucking. Don’t just show up, show up for yourself. TTYS.

Mom: ❤️🙏

That was the extent of our conversation.

One thing I do know is that we both glossed over and skipped over the parts of her story that I had learned from my late husband. Her dearly departed father had a drinking problem. Any bottle that came with a handle, he was all about it. Mom. Over the years has checked herself in and out of various hospitals. The Brother and Fiancée apparently have nothing to do with any of this mess. I’ve got my own issues and I’m working on them. I’m saying that once you cross that line in the sand, I’m done. “You’re dead to me.”

In this case, I too had been in an abusive relationship, twice. I then went to work on it. Therapy helped me. It’s fucked up. Though I am blown away by Mom saying that she didn’t raise her kids like that. Then why have I heard that, either Mom or Dad, the parent, took a baseball bat to her car in a stupor and broke shit. Then moments later, went in the house, opened the window and threw her stuff out the window. That’s just one of many stories I’ve heard about. I’m talking about the movie, Mommie Dearest. The scene where Dunn Fadeaway and the no Wire Hangers. All the clothes go everywhere and she says, “Clean. This. Mess. Up.” What the actual fuck??!! I’m sorry. It was the liquid courage. Not sure if it was the Clear or the Brown liquor but it was the liquor. Sprinkle a little bit of mental health and BOOM.

I took the high road and said that it is her choice to ask for help. As I know firsthand, I can’t help you unless you want the help. Take those teeny tiny little itty bitty steps before you can take that one giant step. Look before you leap, still waters run deep.