#one time my therapist was like “when's the last time you forgot something you cared about” well i don't know because I Forgot.

[californiaquail]

literally wrote "don't forget sandwich" on my hand so i didn't forget my breakfast sandwich in the fridge at work well guess what i forgot. and now it has to spend the weekend in the work fridge. 😐

[alchemistc]

i like your voice in person

Evan's staring at the bed like he's trying to navigate a minefield.

Six months ago that would have sent Tommy on another journey of self-deprecation, a reminder that he'd known Evan wasn't ready for this, known this was a possibility, but Evan, for all his own insecurities, knows what the hell he wants and if he'd felt even an ounce of pressure or remorse up to this point he'd have said something long before now.

Sometimes Evan likes to work it out himself, and sometimes he needs a little nudge, and Tommy watches the head tilt and the angle of his pursed lips for cues as he settles under the sheets.

"Something on your mind?" he prompts, and Evan blinks, like he hadn't realized he'd gotten lost in his thoughts.

"Uh...nothing, maybe."

"Sounds like something, probably."

Evan's smile tilts up at one corner, and he settles on the bed a little stiffly. "It's nothing major. Just. Something I've been thinking about?"

He can feel his brows jumping, can see the way Evan takes in the look with a fond expression. Evan steels himself for something -- they're still muddling through past experiences and learning how to be a bit more intentional in some of their conversations, because they both have a bad habit of reverting to flirting and deflection.

"You remember what we talked about last weekend?"

Tommy can genuinely remember about 93 percent of what he and Evan talk about at any given time, which is an astronomically high number and not at all an exaggeration. He'd be embarrassed about it if he didn't have clear evidence that Evan was as deep into this as he was.

They talk a lot, is the thing, about inconsequential shit just as much (definitely more) than the important stuff. They talk far more than Tommy can remember talking in any other relationship he's been in. But Tommy can pinpoint the exact one he means.

"You mean the roles thing."

Evan hadn't been a stranger to a little daddy talk in bed when they started to explore it, and he'd brought it up right at the start for a reason, but Tommy had taken a while to come around to the realization that Evan had sort of internalized the 'I don't have daddy issues' of it all in a way that Tommy hadn't actually meant it. There'd been little things, here and there; like Evan reaching a door before him and then bashfully waiting with it half open like he'd made a misstep; like twisting his mouth a little funny when he snatched the bill from the table before Tommy could get it. Little things.

Things that, in the abstract, yeah, Tommy liked to do for his partners, but in reality weren't actually that big a deal to him.

He'd needed to clear the air.

Evan nods. Curls a hand around his knee before he shifts his body so that he's facing Tommy. "So, I like taking care of people."

(A conversation, a month ago, Evan grimacing around "My therapist says I have to stop calling myself a people pleaser in a derogatory way.")

Tommy hums, something to remind Evan he's listening.

"And I guess I sort of built up this idea in my head that that was like, a hard stop with you."

("Everyone likes being taken care of sometimes, Evan.")

"And I'm not -- I'm not upset at you, or like, feeling guilty, I just -- I've been thinking about it, and I feel like I forgot to ask you how you wanted to be taken care of."

The thing with Evan is that no matter how often he'll deflect with a joke, when he wants to say something serious he's blunt as hell about it. There might be some hemming and hawing to get there but sometimes he says things that just make Tommy wonder if he'd ever actually learned how to say things before Evan.

"I don't really have a list, babe," he says, and then sort of hates himself for it. Deflect, distract, hey baby how about I blow you about all these big feelings inside my chest I can't articulate.

Evan, though, Evan squinches his eyes and runs a heavy hand through his hair. "I...sort of do?"

"Lay it on me."

Evan grins. "That's actually one of the things on my list."

Tommy blinks. Tries to figure out that trail of thought, but he's coming up with nothing. "Okay, can you expand on that?"

"Like --listen, you know I'm a huge fan of being the little spoon. I'd let someone put screws back in my leg just for continued little spoon privileges. But sometimes I miss being the big spoon, and in my head the idea sounded so stupid to bring up but now I'm wondering if, like, maybe I've just been denying you the joy of being the little spoon?"

Tommy thinks of Evan's hands spread big and warm across his belly, of knees tucked up behind his, warm breath on the back of his neck like when Evan stumbles up behind him in the mornings whining about coffee, and maybe he blue screens a bit because he's never actually dated someone so close to his own size, because there's always been an assumption at the outset that he wouldn't want that.

Alex had been a little too into the same dynamic he'd seen Evan stumbling through, and Colin had hated sleeping with someone's flesh touching his own. Beyond that he hadn't really dated anyone long enough to really form a preference.

Maybe Kara might have been willing, back when he'd been closeted enough to pretend it wasn't an effort to get it up when she had his dick in her mouth, but they'd been young enough that staying the night wasn't really a consideration.

"And like -- listen, I don't necessarily prescribe to gender roles as a thing in general, but a few weekends ago I spent like twenty minutes staring at a bouquet of flowers in Trader Joe's and convinced myself you wouldn't like the gesture so I didn't buy them but you have a few vases in your moms old china cabinet and the moment I remembered them I felt stupid for not buying the flowers."

There's something curling tenderly underneath Tommy's ribcage that he's not sure he's ever felt quite like this before. It's not new, exactly, but it seems to be thrumming particularly hard tonight.

Three months in, Tommy had gotten the man-flu from hell, temperatures so high he'd been grounded and sent packing to rest it off, and he'd texted Evan a jumbled mess of barely discernible things when they'd tucked him into the Uber.

Evan and Bobby had made chicken noodle soup at the station and Hen had sent Evan off with a laundry list of things he could do to help drop the fever, and Tommy had spent the duration sulking and glowering and dragging himself out of bed every time Evan had wanted to change the sheets, to keep Tommy as comfortable as he could, but when Evan had caught it four days later he hadn't hesitated to do all the same shit with gusto. Evan hadn't been particularly grateful either, because neither one of them liked being laid up when the world was out there waiting for them, but he'd at least had the grace to not be an asshole about it.

He had, though. Been grateful. A little awestruck, too, at the mere idea of someone so unafraid of just being there through all the moaning and groaning and hacking and coughing, keeping the tissues from piling up on the bedside table and switching out cold packs to the freezer so he always had one ready in case he wanted it. In the clarity of a full day without fever making his brain feel like cotton candy he'd stared down at a sleepily wheezing Evan and known he could absolutely lose his heart to this man.

"Also I don't want to toot my own horn here but I give excellent foot rubs, and I feel like there's about a million other things I've just been -- holding back from doing?"

"Because of the role thing, or because all your stupid exes told you you were needy?"

It's not a night to pull punches. Also Tommy wants to send thank you cards to every single one of them and attach them to boxes with a bark scorpion inside.

"Both," Evan says without a second of hesitation. His smile crinkles at the corners of his mouth, and Tommy is suddenly annoyed with the space between them. When he holds out his hand to tug Evan into him, Evan melts into it for the space of a moment before he pulls back. "I actually kind of desperately want to be the big spoon right now, if that's something you'd be into." Evan had definitely clocked the look on his face when he'd mentioned it, but he's keyed into the way Tommy checks in and reciprocated in kind since the start of this, so.

Tommy peels his glasses off, snags his bookmark to keep his spot in the monstrosity of the Wrangler maintenance manual he'd stopped being cagey about the fifth time Evan caught him flipping through it, and watches Evan settle comfortably into bed next to him. The problem is, Tommy actually isn't sure where to go from there, which is a ridiculous thought to have because Evan hadn't either and he'd figured it out just fine.

"How do you want me, Buckley?"

The roll of his eyes is so bitchy that Tommy has to remind himself that for all his people pleasing attributes, Evan Buckley is, at heart, a huge fucking brat. Evan tugs and twists and maneuvers his arms and Tommy sort of sinks into it, head tucked in the crook of his shoulder, draping his leg over one of Evan's when he shifts his knee pointedly, a massive, unruly breath escaping Tommy once they're all done shifting.

"You should absolutely try out the rest of your list," he murmurs into the space where Evan's shoulder meets his neck. "Although you don't need to woo me anymore, I'm actually fully wooed."

Lips against his crown, pressed tightly enough that he can feel the smile against his scalp, Evan chuckles. "You don't know how good my wooing is."

The fingers shifting up and down his arm feel somehow different, from this position, even though Evan has done it a hundred times before from the spot he likes to claim with his head right over Tommy's bleeding, three-sizes-too-big-for-him heart. It's ridiculous, and it shouldn't feel any different, but it does. He wants to be greedy with it, soak it in and then never let Evan do this again because he finally understands the appeal and he doesn't want to deprive Evan that.

"This is nicer than I expected."

Evan's soft laugh ruffles his hair, and Tommy wonders if he's dumb enough to ask Eddie how long he should wait before he can reasonably beg Evan to spend the rest of his life with him.

"Save the reviews for when I actually spoon you. It's gonna rock your world." His hand drifts up, fingers digging into the dimple of Tommy's skull.

The hum in his throat has a mind of it's own, going thin and reedy and --

Evan pauses, and Tommy can practically see the gears whirring in his mind, because this is new information.

To both of them, actually, but Tommy doesn't have time to process it because the fingers on the back of his skull spread and sink deeper, just enough pressure to be more than a glancing ruffle, and Tommy can't quite help the way he tilts his head back into it, or the way he hitches his leg to press his groin a little more firmly to the outside of Evan's thigh.

They're both too tired for it to really mean anything -- both off 48's and a fumbled round in the shower while they were already bone weary -- but Tommy wants the reminder for them both when they wake up in the morning.

He can feel his eyes drooping the longer Evan scrubs his fingers against him, and the thought pops into his head as he's drifting off. He doesn't want it to disappear into the fog, though, so he murmurs it into the soft, warm skin of Evan's neck. "I like camellia's. White ones."

Evan hums, and Tommy just knows that the moment he drops off, Evan will be reaching for his phone to google the language of flowers.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Just know you're stronger than you think

⟫ Alphabet Challenge, J - Just know you're stronger than you think

Pairings: leah williamson x teen reader

There's a been a lot of tears writing this one, but it comes from the heart.

Shoutout to @alotofpockets for being one my biggest supports when writing and dealing with my rants and emotions, massively appreciate the virtual shoulder to lean on! 💗

"Why is it that the people we care about so much are also the ones' that hurt us the most?"

That particular question has been on your mind ever since it happened, two whole days ago.

"Did something happen?" The therapist, sitting opposite you questions, her voice full of concern.

Fumbling with the strings of your Leahs' hoodie that you are wearing, you slowly nod and look at the older woman, "My mum showed up, completely unannounced."

The memories of the past few days begin to replay in your head as you remember the conversation very clearly.

"Hi sweetheart," You're shocked to open the front door and come face to face with your mother, who you haven't even heard of in a few months, following the last conversation that you had with her.

Yet here she stood, smiling like there was nothing the matter. Had she forgotten what happened?

"Mom? Wha... What are you doing here?" You're confused to say the least and you couldn't understand why she was here, at your front door, after all of this time.

"I wanted to come and see you," The woman replied, still continuing to smile condescendingly at you.

Your eyes furrowed in confusion, "And you didn't think to let me know first?" You questioned her.

"I didn't think I would need to," Your mother was quick to respond, "And besides, I tried to call, but you've been avoiding me, haven't you?" She asked, knowingly.

"I've had stuff going on," You admitted to her quietly, shrugging your shoulders.

The older woman hummed in response, "I know, you were in the hospital, and guess where I had to find that out? The news, social media-- You didn't think to call your own mother?!" She barked at you, like it was her right to know about what's been going in your life.

She didn't deserve that right, not when shes' not bothered with you for as long as you can remember.

"I guess... I guess I forgot," You mumbled, feeling ten times smaller like your mother always has a way of making you feel like that.

It  was like a flip switched right there and then, your mother's smile changed to a scowl right in front of you.

"After everything I have done for you, and you just throw it back in my face, Y/N!" The women shouted angrily, her emotions completely changing in a blink.

The therapist sat opposite you, listening to you completely as you tell her about the conversation and relayed it back to her, "Okay, and how did that make you feel? How did you handle it?" She asks.

"The same way that I always did," You murmur, still fumbling with the hoodie strings, "I blew up."

"Mum, I haven't been well-- I tried to kill myself. I wanted to die, I... I tried to end my life because I didn't want to be here anymore!" You completely poured your emotional vulnerability out to the woman, hoping that she'd comfort you, something in which you deeply craved.

The woman literally scoffed and shook her head, "And you don't think that's incredibly selfish to do? What about me-- Wha... You can't leave me, Y/N!" She exclaimed in disbelief.

Your initial confusion turned to anger very quickly, how could she make it all about herself, even now?

"Mum, I'm the one that's been suffering and in pain, this whole damn time!" You didn't mean to yell at her, but something inside you snapped.

"You don't think I have? Y/N, I've been in pain for a lot longer than you have-- You don't know the half of it!" Your mother shouted right back at you, completely forgetting the fact you were both outside in broad daylight where anyone could hear the shouting back and forth.

The very sentence made you realise how inconsiderably selfish she has always been, and she will still continue to be.

"Why has it always got to be about you? I can't even talk to you because you're so wrapped up in yourself-- See this, this is the reason I didn't tell you because yet again, you just once again go and make it about yourself!" You were seething with anger, you didn't care at this point which neighbour did hear you, "I needed you, mum, I really... I really needed you and you weren't there." Your voice was vulnerable and raw, showing the true hurt you felt right there.

"Because you didn't tell me that you needed me, Y/N," Your mother threw it back in your face, having the audacity to even tut at you, "How could I when you don't keep in touch anymore?" She asked.

You really did need your mum, but once again, she was nowhere to be seen when you did.

"She doesn't get it, she never has. Shes' always been this selfish and I've never realised..." You speak directly to your therapist, once again showing your vulnerability as the tears continue to spill down your cheeks.

Your therapist nods and continues to listen, shifting the paper in her hands completely aside, "Did you tell her how you felt?" She wonders.

"I did," You nod in response, "It was hard, but... I did it."

"I deserve to know if theres' something wrong with you, Y/N,'' Your mother stated, like it was her god-given right to know.

Was it really?

"I'm telling you now, aren't I, mum?" You responded, quietly.

Your mother exhaled a sigh and shook her head, "Were you alone in the hospital?" She questioned.

"No, I had Leah--" You were cut off before you could finish that sentence.

Your mother had the audacity to scoff, "Leah is not your mother, Y/N. I am!" She stated, firmly.

"Yeah, well shes' been there a lot more than you have in the last few years!" You confessed your inner thoughts, you were damn right about that statement.

Leahs' been there a lot more than your mum ever has been.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Your mother questioned in disbelief.

"It means... It means I'm done, mum. I'm done with always having to be second best-- I'm done with you and your selfishness! I'm just... I'm done now!" You told her, not having the energy to keep up this argument with her as you deflated your shoulders.

Your mother had the nerve to look at you hurt and it made you feel instant guilt about what you said, "All that I have done for you, and this is how I am treated? By my own daughter!" She said quietly, barely louder than a whisper.

"Mum, I'm sorry... But I can't, I can't do this anymore," Your telling her nothing but the truth, your tired of the bickering, your so tired of it and its' draining you both mentally and physically, "I love you because your my mum, but I'm done, I can't... I think its' best that you go."

"I'm the one whos' always been there, Y/N. I am the one... I am the one whos' been there when that deadbeat of a father walked out on us. He walked and I stayed, I didn't have too. I could have given you up but I stayed and this is what I get?" Your mothers' words hurt, they're gaslighting and manipulative, but you know this is exactly what she is like.

You have to try and remain strong in this decision.

"I think you should go now, mum. I... I don't want you here anymore," You told her, quietly as you avoided looking at her, "Please, just go."

"Y/N, you can't just push me away. I don't deserve to be treated like this," The women continued to gaslight you, showing the toxic traits of her personality.

Shaking your head, you remained firm on your decision, "It's always the same thing with you, mum. Just... Just fuckin' go!" You exclaimed, trying to keep your tears at bay until she left.

You watched as your mothers' face turned to look like complete thunder, "Don't you swear  at me, young lady!" She shouted, enraged.

This time, you couldn't help but scoff, "Please, you can't tell me what to do. Just leave and never come back!" You demanded.

"Y/N," Your mother pleaded, but you didn't want to hear it.

Your therapist leant forward to pass you the box of tissues and looked at you in great sympathy, "And then what happened?" She asks.

"Leah showed up," You tell her, giving her a brief smile while trying to harshly wipe the tears away.

"I think you should do what she says. She's asked you to leave and you're not welcome here," Leah appeared behind your mother, coming back from a quick trip to the shops to pick up some much needed essentials and was shocked to see the women on her doorstep after all this time.

"You!" Your Mother turned round to see the voice behind her as she glared, "You've poisined my own daughter against me!"

"Me?" Leah scoffed in response before she shook her head, "That wasn't me, I think you'll find that was all done by you. So you can see Y/N is upset, so please Y/M/N, just go because like I said before, you're not welcome here." Her words were firm and it made you smile slightly with the way that the blonde fought in your corner.

"So, she left?" Your therapist questions, curiously.

You nod in agreement and use your sleeves to wipe your face, "She left, I felt... I guess I felt relieved, free almost? I... I just wish that things could be different, you know?" You tell her, confused about the feelings you have.

Your therapist smiled at you sympathetically, "You don't deserve to be treated like this, Y/N. Even if its' your own mother and you did the right thing here-- Remember we talked about healthy boundaries? Those apply to family members as well." She tells you.

"I know, it just hurts," You murmur, feeling complete exhaustion after spilling everything out in the open.

"It will for a bit, but then it'll heal. This is about you, Y/N," Your therapist continues to speak open and honestly to you, "It will take time to heal, but you're strong enough to do it, and you're not alone either." She states, kindly.

"Rough session?" Leah questions in concern as she glances at you beside where she sits in the driver's seat.

You must be somewhat predictable, or she can tell from the red puffy eyes and tear stain cheeks.

It may just be the latter one.

"Yeah," You murmur in response, you barely have the effort to even want to vocually communicate right now.

Leah continues to look at you in further concern, "Do you want to talk about it?" She offers.

"No, I don't... I don't want to talk about it," Your quick enough to disagree with that.

That was a complete lie, you did want to talk about it. Even if you won't admit it though.

"Okay, that's fine. You know where I am though if you need me, bubs." Leah sends you a gentle smile and squeezes your knee to let you know she's here for you.

"Thanks," You lean your head on the window, watching the passing traffic as you head back home to the flat you shared with the blonde.

The rest of the ride home was quiet, you felt so in your head right now.

Therapy was meant to help, right? Why did it feel like the complete opposite, right now.

"I'm gonna make tea, what do you--" Leahs' words are cut short with the sound of your bedroom door slamming shut behind you, "I'll be out here if you need me at all." She calls out, hoping that you can hear her.

You do hear her, but you just don't have the energy to verbally respond right now.

You used it all in therapy, pouring your emotions out and showing your vulnerability, and that's something which rarely ever happens.

You keep yourself shut away in your bedroom for the rest of the day.

Leah of course has tried to prise you out of your room, but you are very much reluctant to leave your confined space.

You don't want to talk anymore today, you'd already done enough of that with the therapist.

So instead you bury yourself in a blanket, shamelessly clutching hold of the little stuffed green dinosaur that you won at a fair when you were eight, while you just sob endlessly into your pillow.

"Why is it that the people we care about so much are also the ones' that hurt us the most?" The question still plays on your head in a loop, because even now, you still don't understand the answer to it.

What shocks you the most is the fact that your mum hasn't bothered even once to contact you.

That shit hurts, to realise that shes' not bothered about any of it.

Not a single thing.

Somehow during the time you've spent in your room, you end up crying most of the time. Unfortunately, the habits' become more familiar over the last few months than you realise, all because of that woman.

There's a knock at your door, followed by the blondes' voice, "Bubs?"

"G' way," You mumble from underneath the covers, trying to block out the rest of the world.

Hearing the door creep open, you know that Leah isn't going to do that, "I heard you crying. I'm not going to leave you when you're this upset." She states, firmly.

"I don't want... I don't want to talk," You stutter your words, trying to control your sobs no matter how difficult that is.

"That's okay, we don't have to talk about things," Leah moves further into the room as her heart breaks at the sight of you curled up into a ball in the middle of your bed, clutching a hold of the pillow with tear stained cheeks, "Oh, bubs. C'mere, my girl."

That sight was enough for Leah to swiftly move to lie behind you in your bed, gently scoop you up and pull you closer to her, to be able to allow you the comfort even if you didn't want it.

The blonde knew different, she knew not to believe you when you said you didn't want to talk, she allows you the space but shes' not going to allow you to be completely torn up about this.

"Le," Your voice trembles, you don't have the words to say right now, but your grateful for the blonde being there.

Leah quietly shushes you and wraps her free arm around you, "I know, I know it hurts. You don't have to say anything, but know I'm here for you, regardless."

"Why... I don't get why, why does it hurt this much?" You're completely heartbroken, you thought pushing your mother away would help with things, but it makes it all that worse.

"I wish I could tell you the answer there, bubs," Leah murmurs and rocks you back and forth slightly in her arms, "Sometimes' it hurts to do it, but it's' for the best, you know?"

"S... She hasn't even phoned me. She doesn't care about me," You cry openly, showing the raw vulnerability you felt about this situation.

You feel like you've been abandoned, somewhat.

Parents aren't meant to do that, but yet its' easy for enough for it to happen.

And now you're the one in the wrong? It doesn't make sense.

"It hurts now, but things will get better," Leah tells you honestly, running her slender fingers through the strands of your own hair, "And I promise to never leave you alone, ever, okay? You've always got me!" She promises.

"You... You've always been more like a mum to me, more than my mother ever has," You admit to her through small sobs, shuffling around to be face to face with her as you move to rest your head on her chest, "Thank you for never giving up on me or leaving."

Leahs' heart cracks just that little bit more as she smiles sympathetically, "Your my kid, regardless of blood or not, and I love you so so much," She speaks from the heart, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, "The day I met you, it felt like one of the best days of my life and I feel so grateful to be a part of your life, kid."

"I'm grateful you're a part of my life too, Le," You murmur quietly, your voice is hoarse from how much you've been crying but you really do mean what you say, "I wish you were my mum instead, you wouldn't abandon me like she did." You admit, your voice is still no louder than a whisper so you're not sure if shes' even heard it.

"I'd love to be your mum as well bubs, you deserve so much better," Leahs' response is nothing but the honest truth.

Your eyes start to flutter shut, "I really wish it could happen." 

Somehow you feel closer to falling asleep, you don't know what it is but you feel that with the presence of Leah there with you, it's a lot easier to fall asleep.

"I'll make it happen," Leah whispers, still running her slender fingers through your hair gently, "Get some sleep, yeah? It's been a long day."

There wasn't any response from you as you'd somehow managed to fall asleep in that short space of time.

"Bubs," Leah peers her head over slightly to see you fast asleep and she can't help but chuckle fondly, "I mean it when I say it and I'll keep that promise, kid. You're never going to be alone again." She states, firmly.

The blondes' heart aches so much for all the crap that you have had to put up with through the years and now she'll do anything to make it better.

"Sleep well, bubs. I love you," Leah whispers, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your forehead as she pulls you closer towards her, allowing you to sleep practically on top of her, allowing her to lie there and think through things with the determination of a way for you to finally be happy.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[deansapplepie]

The Spitting Image | Part 1

Summary: Years passed since last time you saw your ex-boyfriend and father of your son. Fate decided the perfect moment for you to reconnect was after the end of the world.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f! Reader

Warnings: swearing, threatening, someone is punched, mentions of violence, mentions of doing harm to children (none of the characters, it’s just a thought), walkers, mentions of injuries, a little angsty. Minors do not interact. (If I forgot anything let me know)

Word Count: 4,419

A/N: It was supposed to be a one shot, but it was getting too big and I wasn’t in the middle of it, so I’ll make a mini series of it.

The reader’s son is 17 yo, so if you don’t feel comfortable reading something self insert having a kid this age, it’s up to you.

Here I’m supposing Daryl is in the beginning of his 40s when they get to Alexandria to make sense the age of his son.

Also, I have no idea how are the laws in the U.S.A. To register your children, so if it’s not possible to register a kid with the name of the father without the father, let’s pretend in this universe it is.

Series Masterlist Part 2

Main Masterlist

It had been days that you were out there with Aaron and Eric, you had found a possible group to invite to Alexandria. While you and Aaron was observing them from afar in the road, Eric was in a nearby city waiting for you.

That group seemed like a good group, they took care of each other and shared. They also had a kid and a baby, it needed to mean something. As a mom, you could clearly identify with their struggles and want to protect every kid you came by, unless it was a psychopath kid that wanted to kill you and your son, then… you had no empathy.

United and righteous people were exactly the kind of people you needed for Alexandria. It seemed as they were hungry and thirsty you had some supplies you could give them to help. Hiding on the trees you could only observe them using binoculars as you needed to remain far from them because of safety. You had never zoomed to observe them this much before, but there was something intriguing you and you didn’t voice it to Aaron yet. He was one of your best friends back in Alexandria, but you had to make sure.

There were a guy, all wearing black. He had a sleeveless black shirt that showed his toned arms, he seemed to be tall and had really broad shoulders and a relatively long hair. He carried a crossbow, and even though he was as tired and week as everyone else, he tried to not let it show. You only knew a person like this, but it had been so long since you last saw him that you thought this was your mind playing games with you. You were so young back then, you changed so much… he probably did too, probably you even crossed paths before the world ended and you didn’t recognized each other. But you had to make sure it wasn’t him so just your mind would relax and you could control your anxiety.

That’s why you were zooming the binoculars to the maximum and focusing solely on him, expecting him to look to a side so you could clearly see his face. He did, and when he did your heart stopped for some milliseconds and you thought all the air was drawn from your lungs. “Holly shit!” Was the only thing you were able to say, so glad now you could openly curse, because there wasn’t any child around.

“What’s it?” Aaron asked curiously and you passed him the binoculars unable to say anything. He looked at it, zooming out and couldn’t see anything extraordinary. “I don’t see anything. What did you see?”

You rested your back on the trunk of the tree that you were both sitting on its branch. You tried to breath in and out, just like your therapist had recommended you when you started to treat you’re anxiety.

“Y/N, what happened?” Aaron asked again turning his attention to you and holding your hand, which you accepted gratefully.

“I… I think my ex is in this group.” Oh my God. You were freaking out! It wasn’t as if you had ended bad, well it depends on the point of view, but seeing him after all this years, after all that happened, after…

“You think?” Aaron asked one more time, if it was your ex why you sounded like you were not completely sure.

“Yes, it was a long time ago. We were barely adults, so we changed a lot, but I’m 98% sure the archer is him.” You said continuing your exercise and taking your canteen with shaking hands to drink some water.

“Oh… let me check him out and see if you have good taste in men.”

“Aaron!” You protested the most silently you could. “Well, you may surprise a little when you see him, he is…”

“… DJ’s father! Holly crap!” He looked at you as if he had seen a ghost as the man looked exactly like the teenager boy he knew back in Alexandria, of course the man was way older than the boy. “Do you have an uterus or a copy machine in your belly?”

“Ok, if even you can see it’s totally him.” You said and you didn’t know if you were relieved or anxious, probably both at the same time.

“Ok, so… is he a good person to take with us?” He had to ask, even though you were good friends, you never talked much about him, it seemed to hurt you a lot, so he never pushed.

“Yes, of course. Don’t think I’d have named my child after him if he wasn’t.” You answered. It wasn’t his fault or yours, you just had to blame people like your parents that thought they were better than everyone else. “It’s just that it has been so long after last time we saw each other, I’m just nervous to meet him again.”

You tried approaching them by letting water and food as a gift for them on the road, but they just rejected everything, they were suspicious, they probably went through a lot of shit. You don’t blame them, you’d react the same if it was you. A heavy storm caught you by surprise, you needed to find shelter and protect yourselves. Once you saw the group entered a barn, you decided to go back to your RV and wait the next day or the storm pass before approaching them more directly this time.

The next morning the weather had improved, so you left again to where they were. At distance you saw two women near to the location of the barn, you approached them and presented yourselves and minutes later both of you were on your knees, hands behind your heads and an angry man in front of you. But before the said angry man could do anything or ask anything, the archer came from the shadows and your name left his lips. “Y/N”

“Daryl.” You replied a smile on your face, you wanted to keep a more straight face don’t be so pathetic about how you were happy to see him there alive, older and hotter, but you couldn’t, because it had always been like that, you’d see him and you wouldn’t be able to control yourself. You’d open the biggest smile at him and would have your heart racing with excitement and anxiety.

“Do you know each other?” The angry man asked Daryl, but you replied. You couldn’t hold your tongue, you were anxious and when it was like that, you’d say even what you weren’t meant to say.

“We dated.” You answered, also you knew that Daryl would die of shyness if he had to say you dated or anything like this. That’s if deep inside him he was still that boy.

The man you came to know the name was Rick Grimes shot you a look that said ‘I wasn’t talking to you.’ and then looked back at Daryl in hopes he would confirm it or not. “Yeah, it’s true.”

“If she’s his ex, she’s no good. We should better don’t believe them.” You saw a ginger man with a big mustache speaking.

“Listen here, Obelix. You better not bad mouth me again or I’ll beat you so hard your mustache is going to end on your ass!” You were normally sweet and polite, but you’d never let anyone judge you, or anyone that you loved, especially this person that doesn’t even know you.

“Definitely related to Daryl.” An asian man said and couldn’t contain a small laugh, even in the state the group was.

Daryl had a smirk on his face and you couldn’t read what it meant. The Rick guy didn’t took it easy on you just because Daryl knew you, he argument people could change and he wasn’t wrong. Most of the time he hold the conversation with Aaron and you were glad about it, Aaron was better at this than you were, even though you could bring a sense of comfort most of the times when you approached women or groups with children, this wasn’t a situation where Aaron actually needed you. Unless they decided to kill both of you or something else, then you’d have to play the last card you could with them and that could only be used with them, because of Daryl. You’d need to use your son to convince them to let you go, and you’d hate to do such thing. Using your son to blackmail someone was never something you’d like to do.

You remembered the day you first had the courage to talk to him, you had always thought he was cute and cool, but you never had the courage. Until a day your “friends” excluded you and you didn’t even got to know why. You were 16 and they were so immature to do such thing, so yeah, it was their loss you thought. That’s what you tried to say and convince yourself you were better without them.

At lunch time having no table to sit, you went straight to his table, that was it, your opportunity to get to know him. “Can I have a sit here?” You asked in front of him.

“ ‘m not the owner of the chair.” He said, eyes on his plate. “But ya won’t want to be seen with me sweetheart.”

“Thanks.” You put your tray on the table and took the chair in front of him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Daryl. We already know each other. We had a subject together. Once.” He remembered! You were ecstatic, of course you’d remember him, you developed a huge crush on him since you had to pair up, but you didn’t expect him to remember you. You didn’t think you were as cool as the other girls to be remembered. “Ya still have time to maintain the integrity of yer reputation and leave.”

“I have no reputation to save, my friends simply decided I’m not cool anymore, so… fuck them, gonna make whatever I want.” He snorted, he never thought he’d live to see you cuss. You never looked like one to do so. “What’s funny?”

“Thought you never cussed.”

“Well, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me Dixon.” You replied and from this time you started to pass more and more time together, starting a strange friendship that was the commonest thing for both of you, but people outside loved to judge.

Most of the time they were discussing, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. It was as if you did, he’d disappear into thin air. In the end Rick sent a group to your RV to confirm if you were telling the truth and threatened killing you if they took too long to comeback. After they came back, Rick agreed to go to Alexandria but they would drive and you should tell them where it was, and then started again another drama.

“How are we supposed to trust you? Maybe you got another group and a radio and you’re going to attack our place. We have children and elders, we can’t risk.” You tried to reason with him, even though you knew you were in a small number and you’d never win this ‘battle’.

“Don’t you trust Daryl?” Rick threw this card. Really?

“How am I supposed to when you didn’t believe me and he did nothing to tell you were wrong and I could be trusted?” He knew you were right, not even for a second you thought Daryl wasn’t the same, but you had a point and even he knew it.

In the end you had no option but give in to their requests. You took them to the nearest city so you could take Eric too and while fighting against walkers he got his ankle hurt. Not longer after you got back to the road and in direction of Alexandria. While going there you tried to make some small talk with them, but most were not very open to it.

“What’s her name?” You asked Daryl that had a beautiful baby in his arms.

“ ‘s Judith.” He answered, he looked at her with such adoration. It was adorable to see such a big and rustic man being so tender with a baby in his arms.

“She’s so pretty.” You always wanted a baby girl, but of course you were more than happy with your baby boy. It was just a silly girl dream to have a daughter so you can play doll with them. “Can I hold her a little? There’s a long time I don’t get to hold a baby.”

Despite the common silent agreement of the group to not trust you just yet, he trusted you and was sure you’d do nothing against his ‘lil ass kicker’. So he let you have her a little in your arms and she continued to sleep peacefully. Carl observed you with the eyes of a hawk, ready to end you if you did anything wrong against his little sister, but you didn’t.

“Is your family with ya?” Daryl drawled by your side while you were mesmerized by little Jude. He wanted to know if your asshole of dad was still around and also your mom, but he couldn’t ask it like this, he didn’t know how your relation with them were after everything, he didn’t want to offend you.

“It’s just me and my son, but he’s not this cute anymore and I no longer can carry him in my arms like that.” You replied, wishing he’d have curiosity about DJ, but also afraid of where this curiosity could take you in this moment.

“What’s his name?” He asked trying to be polite, but deep down it hurt him that you had another lover and had a child, he couldn’t control this, but it was painful anyway.

“DJ.” You simply said, god you didn’t want to reveal at this moment your baby was Daryl Dixon Junior. Before he could ask the name and not the nickname, you threw another question at him. “Did you get any of my letters?”

He was taken aback. You tried to keep contact with him. You tried to reach him out. “Did ya send me letters? I… Ididn’t know. I left with Merle shortly after what happened. Probably old man got them.”

By his surprise you believed he really didn’t know. He never read the letters. He never ignored you or pretended your son didn’t exist. Deep down, you knew he’d never do that, but you never could confirm it, because you never got to see him again. Until now.

A little after Carl took Judith from your arms, you already had enough. He couldn’t let you more than you were supposed to with the baby. While your mind wandered to the past, Daryl’s were a turmoil trying to decipher what could be the name of your son, since you gave no detail.

The day prior he had warned you ‘wear sneakers tomorrow, you asked why and he just repeated what he said before. So you did. There was almost a year since your friendship with Daryl Dixon started and at that moment, he was your best friend. Sometimes he’d stay with you studying in the library or just hanging out around the city. You trusted him.

Next day, you arrived at school and found him next to an old blue truck. “What’s that?”

“A car.” He answered the obvious.

“I know dumbass! But where did you get it?” You asked curiously, he had never gone to school in one.

“I borrowed it from Merle without telling him.” Which means he stole his own brother, at least for some hours. “I’m returning it later, probably won’t even know about it. He’s knocked out in his bedroom.”

“Ok, if he catch us, I’m telling it was all you.” You played with him, but you knew Merle would never catch you, at least not before Daryl arrived at home with it.

“It actually was.” He shrugged. “Also, no way he’d believe a sweet thing like you helped me in any of that.” You instantly blushed, it wasn’t always that Daryl would throw sweet words or compliments at you, so every time you’d not fail and blush. “Did ya wear sneakers?”

“Yep.” You put one foot in front of you to show your sneakers.

“Pink? Really?” He teased you, he knew for sure you’d wear at least one thing pink and you were always wearing sandals or any other more delicate shoes.

“I don’t have many sneakers, so… yeah.” You retracted your foot to stand close to the other again.

As soon as the bell rang you entered the school and went to your classes. In the end of the day, you got together at the parking lot ready to spend your day together. “Where are we going?” You asked curiously.

“Get in the car and you’ll see.” He replied going to the driver’s side.

“Ok, Dar. I’ll let you be all mysterious while I die out of curiosity.” You dramatically entered the truck and took the passenger sit.

You drove for some time and even got outside the city. You knew he was familiarized with the forest, he told you he’d hunt, but you never thought he’d bring you someday near it. “You know I know shit about hunting, don’t you?” You asked while the car stopped close to a small trail.

“Yep, dun worry. I didn’t bring ya here to go hunting. It’s something else, wanna show you a place.” He slightly touched your hand reassuring you and you could swear it sent a delicious tingling sensation all over your body.

He got out of the truck, took a bag in the truck bed and waited for you so you could start the trail. There was 5 minutes you were walking when you tripped and almost fell down, leading to the boy to hold your hand until you arrived at your final destination.

It was a waterfall, a beautiful one, with a small lake. The water was a beautiful green surrounded by big rocks. You got all excited with the sight and gave your biggest smile to him, which made his heart flutter and stole a small smile from him.

You took your sneakers off and both of you sat on a rock where you could put your feet in the cold refreshing water. There was the shadow of a tree that made it bearable to be outside there in the warm weather. You loved how Daryl was relaxed and just enjoying the place and your company, you could talk a lot or talk nothing and it would be perfect for him.

You don’t know what made you do that, but the moment just felt perfect to speak your mind to him, actually speak with your heart. “I like you, Daryl.”

“Yeah, we’re friends of course ya do.” It was obvious if you didn’t you wouldn’t be around.

“No, I like you in the way I’ve been crushing on you for years and just now I have the courage to say, yay…” you said, trying to be a little funny so the moment wouldn’t be so embarrassing, but it would be already too embarrassing if he just rejected you at that moment.

He looked at you impressed and thinking how you could like him for so long if everybody in the school, no, in the damn city thought he was a sore loser and a scumbag. “Are ya sure?” He double checked, just in case.

“I wouldn’t put myself in this embarrassing situation with risk of you rejecting me and losing your friendship if I didn’t.” You turned to look at him and were struck by his deep blue eyes that seemed to see your soul every time you looked into it. “It’s ok if you don’t feel the same, I’ll…”

Before you could finish your apologetic sentence, his lips crashed on yours and his hand held yours one more time, and that was the first of many kisses you’d come to share in the following years.

You woke up startled, the RV came to a stop. You were finally at the gates of Alexandria, you and Aaron got off first and the rest of the group followed you and once the gates were open you could see that at the same time they were cautious they were also impressed with the place. You entered the gate and Deanna came to welcome the new people. Aaron took Eric to the infirmary and before you could excuse yourself and go home take a good bath and spend some quality time with your child, you saw the tall teenager in his 17s running in your direction. You suddenly worried, he would see him. Both of them would see each other. You smiled at your baby boy that wasn’t a baby anymore, and he hugged you tightly even taking you from the ground. He had became so tall in the last years that it was funny to see the difference of his height to his mom’s.

Daryl was frozen in place, when he saw the young man running in your direction it was as if he could see his younger self in the past, but he wasn’t hallucinating or anything like that, because that boy that looked so much like him had also many features from you. The group looked surprised at the boy, probably thinking the same thing Aaron thought when he landed his eyes at Daryl. A million thoughts ran on the hunter’s mind, this kid just could be his… he had too because no way someone could look so much like the other and don’t be blood related, especially being the son of your youth lover.

“How are you baby?” You asked cupping DJ’s face with your hand and checking his face to see if he was healthy and well.

“I’m ok mom, are you good?” He asked back observing you, he had always been such a good observer.

“We need to talk…” you started to say but couldn’t finish because the boy’s eyes landed on Daryl some meters behind looking at both of you.

DJ knew, you told him before how he looked so much like his dad. So he knew when he looked strictly to an older version of him. He put you aside and walked strong steps on Daryl’s direction, you yelled his name but he just ignored you and before you could stop him, he punched his father right on his jaw.

“DJ! No!” You put yourself between both of them.

“No? Mom! He never cared about us and now he just shows here like this? He ignored all the letters you sent and the pictures of me, and…” he bursted the feelings trapped on his chest all those years. He had the perfect speech on his mind, he elaborated it for years just to end his father and make him ashamed of what he did, but now he didn’t even say half of it and the rest stayed stuck in his throat unable to come out as tears accumulated in his blue eyes.

“It’s ok. I probably deserve it.” Daryl said from behind.

“Honey, it’s not like this. We don’t solve anything like this. You don’t know the whole story.” You rested your hands on your son’s shoulders.

“You mean the edited version of how he never cared about us, or looked for us? I know you never told me everything, I’m not stupid. And I also know men are bastards that don’t care about discarding pregnant women!” Shit. Shit. Shit. Things were getting out of control the boy was causing a scene.

“Listen to me, Daryl Dixon Junior! I’m your mother and I’d never name you after your father if he was this kind of bastard!” You firmly told him, there were so many years that you didn’t call him by his whole name that he knew he would be in trouble if he didn’t obey you at that moment. “Now, apologize, go home and wait for me.”

“Fine.” The young man said teeth greeted. “I’m sorry for punching you because you’re an asshole.” With that he turned around and left before you could lecture him one more time in front of everyone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Daryl asked. Obviously not talking about the past, it was clear to him that you tried in the past.

“I wouldn’t dare use my son to bring you to safety. I know you’d come if I said, and your group… I know this kind of bond, you’re family. I didn’t want to be selfish and make all of you come because I used DJ to convince you. I wanted you to come because you wanted, because you trusted what Aaron and I were offering.”

He couldn’t understand well about it, he wasn’t a father till some minutes ago… even though he wished he was one long before, the kid really had a personality, reminding him a lot about himself and even about Merle. But he could try to understand, to listen to you and if he stopped to think, it didn’t made a difference if you told before or now, he would still have the same feeling of anxiety, excitement and lost, lost for all the years and everything that he lost not being around his son.

“I’m sorry you had to discover like that.” You apologized even though you knew in no way it would be less shocking for him. “We have a lot to talk, the three of us… of course, if you want to.”

“Yeah, we need to talk. I wanna know everything and I wanna know him, if ya allow me and if he wants.” He was quick to answer. God, how could you even give him a choice? He had to do it.

“Great. So… I’m gonna let you finish solving things with Deanna, when you are free, come to my house. It’s the one with the magenta pink doormat.” You give some steps backwards, eyes still on him.

“Pink, hugh…” he knew everything with you needed to have a little of pink and for sure with the end of the world you could not afford pink acessories, at least you’d make sure that one thing in your life was.

“Yes…” you almost murmured. “I’ll see you later.”

“See ya…” he replied. Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 10 | stanley pines x f!reader 

Summary: pictures paint a thousand words, and it’s time you take some of your own

warnings (TW): swearing, discussions of death, grief, familial-loss 

tags: mutual-pining, character background, familial bonds

notes: HELLO ALL! I am doing much better and settled into my new apartment :) ive had a rather hectic couple of weeks and it may take me a couple more to really transition into my new space and job so there may be some breaths between updates for now!! Does this chapter reflect some of my own experiences? Of course, it does. Was I always gonna write this chapter? YES- this chapter is a reflective/background for our beautiful reader/doc’! The formulative next chapter is BIG BIG BIG (unless i think something is missing in which it will be thrown into said plot between this ch and the next “formed” one) but okay! I missed u all! Apologies for the lack of actual… well STAN in this ch lol

word count: 4.5k 

| masterlist | 

Her childhood home’s walls’ were scattered with differing picture frames. If you were to ask her what she remembers most distinctly about her abandoned corn-field house she would recount the countless pictures her grandmother collected and stretched across every inch of the hallways between closed doorways. She’d recount most distinct the presence of her mother, only ever in picture form, and the bearing weight of her grandmother's ire. 

Not to say the older woman hated her. No, she constantly breathed everlasting love at her. But when she tilted her head in certain lights her grandmother would remember that she was not actually her daughter. She had existed in the shadow of a dead woman for a long time, in that home. Her grandmother didn't have a waning memory though, only a waning heart. Forget herself in between her blame and love for the young child she was to take care of. 

As she grew with age she began to sympathize with her grandmother more and more. To lose a daughter so young, to have to raise the thing that tore her apart. It made her grandmother sick at times, and she didn’t have the heart to fault the woman for open palms and harsh words.

Her grandfather was quite a pillar in her memories though, a lasting good memory of the house and her childhood. He’d come home with dirty hands from fields and fold her into his arms every day, anyway. Some of her favorite memories are shucking corn on the porch with him, the sun cresting over the skyline, and crickets chirping between. She’d talk, and he’d listen. He was a quiet man, a content one, but he also carried a certain grief in his eyes when he’d look at her at times. Something she blamed herself for entirely. 

Reasonably she could compartmentalize that the death of her mother was not her fault, even without a therapist. Her mother was young when she fell pregnant with her, still in high school, had just gotten her driver's license. She knew, could reason, that she held no fault in this. In the entire situation. Besides her looks, she blamed herself plenty for that, she blamed herself for not doing more to distance herself from those picture frames. 

It’s why her grandmother forgot at times, why her grandfather looked most grieved when the sun set just right over the dinner table. She looked remarkably like her mother, a perfect picture replica in just the right shadows, just the right cadences. 

It’s why her grandmother didn’t take down the pictures, truly. Pictures of her mother in her prom dress, of her first and last Christmas under the tree. Of her mother in the backseat of her grandfather's old Buick, of her mother in the golden-crested corn fields just outside their back door. Because there was no point in forgetting because she haunted them every day. Her face was proof enough of that. 

She didn’t have any pictures of her own, any hung up anyways. She had the official ones done, of course, the yearbook photos and the prom pictures her friends’ mother took for them. But that’s where it stopped and ended. It was her own secret grief, but wasn’t comparable to the glint in her grandparents' eyes. So it stayed that, a secret. 

She dreamed of a simpler life at times. That she was her mother. That the pictures were her own, that her (grand)mother kissed her goodnight, and that her (grand)father didn’t hesitate when he hugged her. Dreamt of a life with her very own lover, dreamt of a life filled with children and apple pie and Christmases at her (grand)parents' house. She dreamed about that fantastical American dream, of wrap-around porches and pastures full of fireflies. But this too stayed a secret, until her junior year of high school. 

School came easy to her, and it usually served as a much-needed reprieve from her mirrored hallways. Come five years old she most looked forward to early mornings and car rides with her grandfather. Her caregivers were always drowsy in the morning and forgot themselves in the darkness of early September. Her grandmother would kiss her goodbye, and fold a packed sack lunch into her small hands. Her grandfather would lean in closer, and read blurry newspaper headlines off to her, like she cared to be known and be seen. Soon though, these mornings disappeared, with age. 

From the ages of fourteen to almost eighteen years old she did everything and anything to impress them, to distress them, and to upset them. She wanted them to capture her achievements in scrapbooks, and laugh over misadventures she would get into, much like they did with her mother's memory. She figured that’s how one lived, in shadows and stories. 

She joined every school club, then quickly quit them. She excelled in writing and sciences alike, and then quickly failed them. She earned enough money to buy her first beat-up car, then quickly veered it into the nearest ditch. She snuck off, broke locks on doors and off windows, ran through fields, and came home late with mayhem in her wake. Prayed that the back porch light would be on, that her grandfather would be back there, on the porch, smoking his cigars. That he’d have that awful look on his brow, that he’d look at her different, speak to her like she wasn’t a shadow, carry a cadence in remembering her name in his anger. She hated when he didn’t remember her the most, even if the memory wasn’t a good one. 

For the longest time, her grandfather was her favorite person, even if he stumbled over his words, and misspoke her name at times. It almost didn’t matter as much to her, because he had a predisposition to always apologize, unlike her grandmother. 

She could always count on him being on the back porch, during the fall and summer and spring months. He had a favorite wooden chair, no cushion in site. Most would have called him a rather stiff man. Stiff in his gait, stiff in his politics, and he usually had a stiff drink on him. But he was a warmth that she didn’t wish to forget, she was his only granddaughter, the last line of his family. 

Her grandfather, while quiet, was an amazing listener, and had a plethora of solid advice to usually dish out most nights. But he was only open for certain hours and seasons, only ever when he was outside and only ever when the sun hung low in the sky. 

Most of her actual problems she never had the guts to voice to the stoic man, she mostly spoke of school, of subjects and passing friends and any gossip she could get her hands on. Her grandfather was a nosey man, funnily enough, and enjoyed listening to whatever she could sparse from the school halls that day.                                                                                 

Their topic that night, though, had her grandfather sitting in a longer silence than she was comfortable with, a stiff drink balanced in his left hand. Her grandmother had scolded her during dinner, for not having looked into colleges to attend as of yet. She was in her eleventh year and hadn’t even considered truly attending. She knew a handful of other female students who didn’t even plan to go, she figured she fell into that category also. Figured she’d wind up much like her grandmother was now, doing the dishes while her husband lounged. Something her grandmother claimed she didn’t mind but something she was still having a hard time wrapping her head around. 

Truly she did not know what she wanted to do after graduation. It still felt like she had so much time, but in all honestly that illusion was fading. She knew something for sure though, that she didn’t have a desire to go to college. She wouldn’t even know what for, and she wanted to be close to home. Closer to the shadow she lived in and in suffocating hallways. She didn’t know anything else. 

Perhaps that’s what her grandmother meant, that she didn’t mind, because she had no mind in it at all. She didn’t know anything else, anything other than this house and her husband and the child that had torn her own apart. It wasn’t a comfort it just was. 

She liked routine, despised change, and preferred her adventures in corn and soybean fields. Preferred late nights with friends with windows rolled all the way down in convertible cars, and preferred stiff drinks with her grandfather on the shaded porch. So she would stay. She said as such at the dinner table too, something her grandmother didn’t take too kindly to. Having her (grand)daughter speak back to her. 

She didn’t break the quiet tension between them that night on the porch. She’d love to forget what happened over the dinner table entirely. The heat in her grandmother's eyes, the ire behind her twisted words. That she would leave, would seek better for herself out there in the world. Educate herself and move on from this home, from suffocating walls, and from them. That's what she figured her grandmother really meant, that in some twisted way, she wished to be rid of her. Hated living with a mirror of her daughter around every corner. The old woman could take down sun-stained pictures and be rid of the image of her forever, rest peacefully knowing she’s finally pushed her so far away. Fold what was left of her mother into boxes and ship it all away for once. 

It made her bitter, at the time. She resented the older woman on and off for years. When she was younger she didn’t understand it all, couldn’t quantify her grandmother's grief, tucked herself into corners, and disappeared into nooks of fields and sheds to distance herself from heated looks. At seventeen it had transformed into an equal distaste. Nothing she did seemed to shape up to the image her caregiver had of her, and she grew tired of attempting to evoke even the slightest of positive emotions from the woman now. The only time she was ever at ease is when she forgets who she even truly is. How was she to pretend to be someone she didn’t even know? She couldn’t even compartmentalize the depth of her own self. She was still a little girl in her mind, still six and begging her grandmother to hang their family portrait that she had drawn on the fridge. She didn’t have it in her to beg anymore and didn’t have it in her to even define who she was. 

Looking back at it all, she realized she was never supposed to know. People change all the time, she had changed. It all just depended on who you surrounded yourself with. In that home, in those fields, and on those gravel roads she had no one. No one but a fading grandmother and a tired grandfather, and perhaps it wasn’t even fair to continuously implore that she stay. She wouldn’t be who she is now, wouldn’t recognize herself even now if she hadn’t left. And if her grandfather hadn’t convinced her of such. 

Her grandfather broke that tension between them that night. She remembers distinctly his words that he spoke between them that night. 

“You can live here sure, but could you die here?” He spoke abruptly, nursing his cup along the wooden edge of his chair. 

She scoffed, shaking her head, fixing her eyes to the fields beyond. “Now that’s just dramatic as hell.” 

“I’m being serious.” He sips his drink, humming along the rim of his cup. “You can see yourself living here because you do now, but can you see yourself dying here? Would you be happy to die here?” 

“What are you even talking about? Happy? To die?” She shifts her eyes back to him, his own eyes glassy. 

“Your mother never made it out of here. Never so much as had a life beyond this plot of land. I dreamed of her being free of it one day.” He sighs like it choked his throat and was too heavy on his chest to admit. They didn’t speak of her often, at least not when he was as sober as he was now. “ Happy, out there somewhere.” 

“Was mama not happy, grandpa?” She implores, figuring he may be being the most honest he’s ever been in this moment

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Your mother was the brightest thing in the room. But people grow up, get older, and sometimes those bright things die. I wanted her to get out, explore new bright things, things to push off the dying parts of you.” 

“So you think I should go?” 

“I think one day, when they put people to rest, that the dirt matters. I think you should find new dirt, kiddo.” 

She shakes her head, burying it in her palms. She can feel the pent-up tears, feel the shake of her shoulders before it makes its way from her stomach to her lungs. “I’m scared though, pa’.” 

“Good.” He hums, a comfort to his deep voice. “Humans are scared of things they don’t yet know. Soon, new dirt won’t be so scary.” 

She leaves that discussion on the back porch, and her grandfather does not discuss it again in her presence. He really only needed one conversation to sway her, make her consider. She kept it to herself though, felt too private to consider out loud across dinner tables and porches. She was afraid to admit that it… scared her. The thought of leaving the only thing she’d ever known, leave behind the firefly fields and the four corners of her bedroom. Perhaps she’d even miss the four corners of the picture frames, and the call of her name from the room over. 

Her grandfather's health waned that last year of high school. He soon forgot where simple things were. Forgot where the utensils drawer was in the kitchen, and wondered where the lamp in the corner of the living room was when he turned his back. She learned that memories fade in waves and that there are acts and paragraphs and distances between forgetfulness. That when he’d turn and forget to take his shoes off when he got home from the fields it would evolve into him forgetting where their gravel driveway was. That’d he’d forget numbers and words to describe things. That he’d forget soon, how to spell his name, and how to properly hold a pen. That soon he’d forget how to climb the stairs, and then forget how to put one foot in front of the other. 

Forgetting who people were always seemed to come last because categorically it was the most painful to forget. She suffered through being called by her mother’s name for months, she never had the strength to correct her wilting grandfather. But watching the man forget his own daughter was different, and she grieved differently for her and her own mother that last month of his life. 

After he forgot for good and faded from this plane into the next, it upset her, even more, to watch her grandmother do much of nothing about it. She waited in anticipation, for the rage and denial that came with death. She recounted the stages of them in her head for weeks, but never witnessed her grandmother falter in all that time. It angered her beyond anything she knew up until then. It exploded in her face one day when she came home to her grandmother folding away picture frames into boxes in the living room. 

It took her only a moment to find it was exclusively her grandfather’s pictures she’d plucked bare from the walls. Holes were left empty along the living room, nails protruding from the blank white walls behind the many portraits. How could she fold him away into boxes, remove him from walls and from corners of the house, like he wasn’t still here, in every room they passed through? 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

Her grandmother turned, her usual quirk in her brow and downturned look in her eyes. “Language, girl.” 

“No.” She stomped forward, ripping the frame from her caregiver's grasp. “Why the fuck are you putting him away.” 

“Enough.” She scoffed. “I’m not putting him away.” She waves her hands around the living room, to his recliner chair and the lamp he would turn on each night to read his newspaper. Points to his books of sudoku on the coffee table and his empty T.V. dinner tray he’d set his late-night hot coco on. “He’s still here. He’s right here.” 

“No.” She pushed back and away from her grandmother. “Why would you put his portraits away? Why would you take them down?” 

Her grandmother shakes her head, hands on her hips, a weird look of defeat on her face for once. “I won’t be interrogated about my interior design skills.” She moves around her, back through the open doorway into the kitchen light. 

She runs after her, picture gripped in her left hand, her right continuously running over her chest, self-soothing. “No!” 

“Yes!” Came her grandmother's reply from her position bent over the kitchen sink, going back to washing sudsy dishes that she left to soak. 

“Why?” She begged, stepping closer to her grandmother's back. “Why the pictures? Why the fucking pictures, ma’?” 

Her grandmother doesn’t wilt, twisting her head to look back at the girl she had raised, the girl she had raised twice now. “What?” 

“You know what I’m talking about ma’ don’t play dumb!” She never would have ever called her matriarch that in her right mind, but the disrespect felt inconsequential in the visage of her anger. “Why the pictures?” She held up the portrait in her left hand, facing it towards her grandmother. 

Only then did she melt in front of her, suddenly looking younger than she’d ever remembered her grandmother. Eyes teary and hands soaked from the kitchen sink she reached for the frame, holding it in weathered hands, tracing the portrait with slight fingers. 

It struck her, that she could not drum up a memory of her grandmother ever crying in front of her. Her caregiver had always been headstrong, stubborn at her worst, and mellow yet firm at her best. But never a wavered figure. She remembers now, the woman’s age. 

It has her moving forward, has her reaching for her grandmother's shoulders for the first time in forever, shuffling the smaller woman to the dinner table. Pulling the chair out and allowing her grandmother to compose herself while sitting at the unset table. 

It’s her grandmother that breaks that hanging tension, breathing out around her tears and stuffed nose. Chuckling at the image now held in her hands. 

“It rained right after this picture.” She couldn’t stop laughing now, bent over, and holding the image between them. “He took me out for a picnic, set up the stand for the photograph and everything. Then boom, ten minutes later we were caught in a thunderstorm! We were a good mile away from his car.” 

It was unlike her meticulous grandfather to not have checked the weather. Something she questioned out loud to her grandmother. 

She sighed, a tilt of her head that still spoke of her love for the man that haunted them both now. “He was so nervous that day, he forgot to check. He was going to propose that day, he told me later. Had it all planned out, but then forgot to check the weather.” The first thing he’d ever truly forgotten.

They both laughed, staring back at the framed photo of her grandfather and grandmother sprawled out on a checkered picnic blanket. 

She looked back at her grandmother, finding the older woman was already staring back at her. Her frail hand reached out, tucking frazzled hair behind her ear. Moving her hand back over her cheek to her chin, tilted her head up to face the older woman's head on. 

“I’m sorry.” A break in her grandmother's voice. “I kept them up because I thought it best. I thought you would want to know her.” To know her mother. “But it was selfish of me. To keep her up on all these walls.” Her thumb was firm on her chin now, tears leaking down her own face now, too. “I didn’t make any room, for you here.” 

“I’m not her, ma’.” 

She sighs a smile on her face suddenly. “You aren’t my daughter.” Moved her hand back, to cup her cheek again, palm warm against her. “But you are not nothing to me.” 

“I know, ma’.” Her grandmother moved, wiping tears from her cheeks. 

“But you need your own space now.” 

She nods, understanding what her grandmother finally meant. She needed her own walls and space and dirt. She needed to leave, and find her own four corners and hang her own pictures, and she knew her grandmother would help her get there too. 

“Do you want it?” 

“Huh?” She startles, turning her gaze to Stanley beside her. The camera in front of her was brand new, and a stupid turquoise blue. Turquoise like her mother's bike, in that one picture, hung along the wall right before her grandparents' room. Turquoise still, that bike was, rusty around the chains, when she found it stuffed in the back of one of the many sheds on her grandparents' farm one summer when she was but thirteen. Turquoise, which she loved to hate but secretly adored. Perhaps it was her favorite color, her mother's, that is. 

He’s waiting beside her, his arms full of odds and ends he found in the thrift store. Things he would tear apart and resew into new things- weird attractions to entice customers into their homes to pay the bills. 

She laughs, struck by his ridiculous tactic of not grabbing a shopping basket in favor of stuffing his broad arms full of odds and ends. Easier to steal, he claimed, when you don’t have a shopping basket. 

“Nah.” She lies. “Color just reminded me of something.” 

He shrugs, goofily dropping something from his arms. He bends over to pick it up, narrating out loud to get a smile back on her face. Anything but that deep contemplative look on her face and that scrunch in her brow. 

“I’m bending over now. Definitely didn’t just spot something on the bottom shelf that I want… definitely didn’t just get that also.” He stands again, shuffling things around in his arms. “That thing may or may not still be on the bottom shelf.” 

She laughs, taking some things from his arms and heading up. “Come on, you don’t need much else here. Let's get some dinner already.” Already thinking of the order she’d get at Greasy’s. 

They check out without a hitch, mainly because the teen at the register barely looks up from their magazine to take their money. Stan jokes about the potential to have just left the shop with their arms full without having paid a dime.

“They didn’t even look up! We could have just booked it, hun!” 

“No, we couldn’t have!” She laughs. “Plus I don’t wanna get some poor kid fired, Stan.” 

He huffs, pulling her door open, then putting their bags in the back seat of the car. He doesn’t make another comment until he gets to his own side, sighing slightly in the front seat while pulling something out of his inner coat pocket. 

“Now-” 

“Stan don’t tell me you took that dumb salt shaker from the bottom shelf for real.” 

“No, hun.” He laughs, handing over a flash of turquoise. “Just this.” 

She smiles unconsciously, holding the ugly camera in both her hands. Bringing it up to her eye to see out the camera, checking the back of it for the film. She can’t help but tear up, about something as stupid as the potential to finally take her own pictures. Something she forgot about even wanting between everything else. Next, she’d have to get out of the car and roll around this new dirt she found herself on. 

His doc’ was a terrible liar. He knew she wanted that camera as soon as she stopped in front of it. She kept passing it in the store, kept wandering back in front of it, but never reached out for it. Just… stared. He didn’t wanna figure on the significance of her fascination (unless she supplied it readily), only wanted to figure how she’d brighten up the room if she had it. So he took it. 

It was the best thing he’d ever stolen her. Between her snatched spoons and stolen diner crayons, this felt more significant. More purposeful, more solid between them. He knew she wanted it, so he got it for her. It felt significant, and it made her heart ache for the young girl surrounded by all those pictures that acted as twisted mirrors. He didn’t even know, what it meant to her. 

“Thank you, Stanley.” She smiles at him, all bright like he predicted. The edge of a tear along her eye, so he reaches and folds her into his broad shoulder. He grazes his lips along her hairline, humming close to her ear like he knows she enjoyed. Perhaps it was like that thing she did, soothing her hand over her heart and chest. Maybe the warmth of him and the vibration reminded her of four corners and hallways and home. At least he hoped, stupidly. 

He brings her back out, reaching over her and buckling her in as she smiles stupidly at him and then back at the camera back in her lap. 

“To dinner!” He exclaims, turning the cars’ keys to begin their journey to Greasy’s for their yearly anniversary dinner. 

She’d have to get some picture frames, for them.

[starzshopoflove]

But did he ever make you cry? (Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x Reader)

Notes: fem reader! sfw, literally just me projecting onto reader, best friend Soap! Pining!! Hurt/comfort! I'll make this a series if you guys like it (WC: 1.7)

(Pov first person in italics) 

God when is this gonna be fucking over 

I’ve been here for what? 4 hours? He just keeps going on and on and on about his ex and “How crazy she was”. When was the last time he asked me something, feels like I'm sitting here for decoration. If he wanted to talk about another girl he could have found a therapist or something, Jesus.

This might be up there in the top 10 worst dates, maybe after that freak who got up in my ear after coffee asking if I wanted to go back to his place. Am I cursed?? What is it about me and attracting these absolute losers? 

Its been a while since you’ve gone out a bit rough around the edges since your last breakup. Sure the relationship wasn't that serious but it still bothered you that he left because “You weren't putting out enough” after he said it was fine that you wanted to take things slow. You got your hopes up a bit too high after this guy (absolute fuckin DWEEB) in your lecture asked if you could grab dinner together. You just wasted a solid 2 hours picking out a cute little skirt and doing your makeup checking twice to make sure you looked nothing less then too the 9’s. 

And then he shows up in a baggy pair of khaki joggers and hoodie, y'know after he said “Get pretty I’ll take you somewhere nice”. Oh but of course he just “accidentally” forgot the reservations but that's fine he knows a great place nearby. The great place being a diner in the middle of a highway rest with fluorescent lights that flickered too often with a weird smell in the air. 

His table manners were practically non-existent smacking his lips when he chewed, sucking on his fingers and getting ketchup on his face. That sight alone made you put down your fork that barely poked at your clearly reheat mush they insisted was a pasta dish. Oh and he wouldn’t stop fucking talking, honestly you were starting to question how it was possible he hadnt choked on his food when he spoke. 

You need to get out now. Any Longer at this table and your dignity might start slipping away. He yapped on about whatever as you tuned it out, nodding your head like you cared slowly tucking your phone back into your purse and pulling it onto your shoulder. You were already drawing up a game plan in your head, bathroom, call your roommate, tell her to come get you and block his number. Perfectly full proof. 

“You mind if I slip out for a moment? I gotta head to the bathroom, won't be long promise.” 

You slapped on a fake smile as he shot you a nod with a sleezy grin, all your senses pulled you back into reality as you felt disgust pool in your gut at the sight of him noticing more off putting things about the longer you looked. You platforms clicked as you pattered off into the one stall bathroom, you stood up straight inside not wanting to lean on the wall when you noticed the dried piss stains and mysterious gunk smeared on it.

It was suffocating, every second of it. The smell, The lights, the noise and of course him. You felt insulted, was this really the kind of place you deserved to be taken out too? You don't get to be wined and dined every now and then do you? Even after you spend days in class or at work and heaving your bones to the campus library to study for the hundreds of tests your professors insist on giving you. 

You let out a sigh of contempt digging through your purse shoving the ugly rearing head of disappointment back as you pulled out your phone. Scrolling through the contact list to find your roommates number chewing on your thumbnail as you brought your phone up to your ear letting it ring, feeling your heart pound further the longer the phone rang. You but down hard once you heard the automated message trill, a heavy sigh leaving your chest as you slumped against the wall of your stall running a hand through your hair. 

What the fuck am I gonna do, I can’t stay here any longer or i’m not gonna be held responsible for whatever happens to him if he brings up how much he loves blondes again.

You swallowed your pride unlocking your phone again scrolling up your contact list hoping he wouldn’t be too mad at having to save you from this god awful excuse for a date as you eyes settled on his number 

“Johnny 🧼” 

You thumb pressed down on the number bringing your shakey hand back up to your ear, the pressure that was just annoying you got heavier on your chest the longer you thought about having to stay here with him. You might burst into tears if you had to stay another hour and listen to this loser describe how much he likes girls that are the exact opposite of you basically holding you hostage to listen on this “date” 

The ringing stopped when a sigh on the other end of the line broke the silence 

“Ello?” 

You felt the pressure on your chest bubble and pop once you heard his voice, your own cracking a little as you spoke up. Yeah it was embarrassing to cry over the phone but it would be more embarrassing to sit there and finish the date with red eyes. 

“Johnny,, please tell me your not busy right now” 

“Can’t be busy when yer asleep” 

Your voice was shaky which chilled his nerves with worry, you don’t call him at night unless it was an emergency and with the way you sounded all he could do was think the worst 

“What’s wrong bonnie”

It was more of a hushed gentle voice than any annoyance you anticipated, he couldn’t see it but you were already bleary eyed and pouting over the line. 

You sat down closing the toilet lid as another shakey sigh let you while the seat creaked under you. You felt you words choke up in your throat pressing heavy on your sternum. You wanted to explain yourself, tell him how horrible your date went, how you felt stupid for going out with him, and how sorry you are for bothering him at night knowing he just got back from a mission only a few days ago.

“Talk to me bonnie, can’t help if you dinnae tell me” 

“Can you come get me, ‘m sorry” 

Barely a whisper over the phone, Johnny was already imagining the worst when you asked him that. You could hear him shuffling around the room already pressing his phone between his shoulder and ear. In his head you were already kidnapped locked away in some cellar ready to be shipped away, when you were just sniffling and tearing up in a shitty diner bathroom. 

“You ok? nbody hurtin you?” 

You could hear him tugging his heavy boots on, finally letting out a breath you were suffocating to hold knowing you’d finally get out of here 

“No ‘m just not having a good time please, i’ll tell you when your here.” 

Johnny looked down hearing his phone ping with the location hushing your sniffling through the line as he opened up the map shutting his front door and quickly sliding into his pick up. 

__________________________________

The wait felt like forever, it wasn’t of course you watched the clock religiously. 8 minutes, Johnny sped across town in 8 minutes for you, probably breaking a few laws he’d wave away once he got here. 

He walked into the diner seeing it empty, your date no where to be seen while he took in the atmosphere. It was disgusting, and all he could think about was how you got here and why you would ever be here heavily sighing as he paced over knocking on the bathroom door leaning slightly against the door as he waited for your response or even just a sound. 

“Steamin Jesus,, lovie you in here?” 

He could hear shuffling on the other side as you opened the door up looking up at him with a pouted face and flushed face trying to hold back any noise or tears not wanting to cry in front of him. His hand slowly went to the small of your back gently rubbing and guiding you away from the loo. 

“What you doin out ‘ere alone bunny?” 

His voice was low as he mumbled down to you softly, face screwed and eyebrows furrowed while he peered down at you spinning your head around the small dinner seeing your abandoned table and spotting a napkin with writing on it. 

You moved over to the table reading the napkins silently 

“Tif called, had a good time with you, sorry this didn’t work out!”

He left. He asked you out and left you abandoned in the middle of a dinner after trying to feed you shitty food. He asked you out and thought it was fine to treat you like this. This was the straw that broke your back crumpling the napkin under your hand as you pressed your palms on the table hanging your head, you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough what’s the worst some crying can do. 

Johnny watching you crumble felt like a punch to his gut knocking all the air out of his lungs, He moves your hand off the napkin reading it and turning his head to you. Your hands already found your face hiding your shame as you stifled your sobs and swallowed thickly at the fat tears pouring down your face. He could be angry later when he finally got his hands on who ever hurt you 

He pulled your hands off your face, wrapping you in his arms one hand on the small of your back, another petting at your hair, hushing you softly as you slid your hands up to cling at his shirt burying your face into his chest shaking and heaving as you tried not to be loud. He petted at your hair, rocking you gently holding you close tucking your head under his chin as he slowly turned back to sit down in the booth tugging you down to his lap letting you curl up in on him again letting you cry to him as he coo’d to you 

“Shh poor darling girl, talk to me bonnie, breath ts ok ‘m here for ye” 

[thissortofsorcery]

@intothedysphoria has inspired me to write about autistic!harringrove, and my own experiences with autism... Max, this is for you! I hope you like it!

tw for anxiety and sensory overwhelm, but it ends fluffy, I promise.

---

It started as a normal day, but it quickly derailed from there.

An asshole at work approached Billy from behind and clapped his hand around the nape of his neck, despite Billy having told him several times he didn’t like that.

Billy didn’t like being touched at all, by most people. And some people had no concept of personal space.

A horrible, painful shiver cut through his spine, icy cold and almost slimy, and Billy held back a shudder. He broke out in goosebumps, and only years and years of practice, of putting on the charm let him pull away from the dickhead graciously, laugh at whatever he said and keep himself together until he could hide away in a bathroom stall.

Billy presses his fingers to his closed eyes hard, seeing stars, and rubs the back of his neck vigorously, trying to replace that cold shiver with something else. Tears spring to his eyes, and he feels so fucking frustrated.

Finding out you’re autistic in your twenties is an experience. A lot of things start making sense, and a lot of things you pushed down and convinced yourself weren’t a problem spring back up like a jack-in-the-box, a hundred times worse.

Like the touch thing. It’s not that Billy doesn’t like being touched. He just doesn’t like being touched by people he doesn’t know, and for no reason.

Like, his physical therapist, when she was helping him regain dexterity in his hands after Starcourt, that was fine.

Some dude in the office touching his neck, even casually, not so much.

Billy takes a deep breath, tries to remember the self-care workbook he and Steve filled out together a couple months ago. Tries to calm down.

Three ways I can distract myself when someone touches me, he’d written, glancing back up at Steve with a smile. Happy they were doing it together.

Loud music + puzzle

Hot drink

Yelling

Steve laughed and shook his head (“it’s very you”) when Billy wrote down the last one, but it really did help.

Billy gives himself a few more moments in the stall before he slinks out, heading to the sinks and splashing cold water on his face. The sensory shock helps a little, the cool, pleasant feeling helping balance the sensation of something crawling under his skin.

He checks if the break room is empty before he goes in, and it thankfully is. He doesn’t want to run into anyone. Doesn’t think he has it in him to mask right now.

Billy makes himself a mug full of scalding hot coffee and hurries back to his office, avoiding eye contact with anyone who throws out a hello. So what if they think he’s angry. Maybe he is pissed.

He manages to spend the rest of the day locked in his office, headphones on, and only comes out when it’s time to go home.

Of course, all he wants is to see Steve, wants his comforting presence, even if they’ve been dating only three months. When he walks through the door of Steve’s house, he sees Steve sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, wearing his ugly vomit green socks with raccoons on them, that he’s had since he was 15 and won’t get rid of.

A wave of relief crashes through him, nearly leaving him dizzy. He breathes deep, catches the smell of his clean house, laundry, and Steve.

“Hey baby,” Steve calls, laying his head on the back of the couch to look at him, making his glasses just a little bit crooked. “Bad day?”

“Does my face look that terrible?” Billy grumbles, taking his shoes off at the entryway before he steps into the living room.

“Your headphones are around your neck,” Steve points to them, a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth.

Oh. Billy forgot to put them away. He doesn’t need them in the car.

He sighs and throws himself down next to Steve, a careful, deliberate distance away.

“I’m just ‘whelmed,” Billy mumbles.

“Overwhelmed?”

“Not anymore. Just whelmed,” He says, sighing again. His body sags, melting against the cushions. He doesn’t feel shivery anymore, but he feels tired, like he’s on the bad end of an all-nighter.

Steve puts his hand on the cushion between them, palm up, not touching Billy.

Billy takes a deep breath, watching Steve’s hand. He knows that hand intimately, knows it to be warm and soft and kind, knows how its skin feels against Billy’s, the friction making the shivers good instead of bad.

He puts a tentative fingertip on Steve’s pointer finger, and all Steve does is press back, smiling gently.

Billy slides his fingers in between Steve’s, laces them together, holds his hand palm to palm, and feels the touch of his skin like they’re buzzing together.

Billy knows he can change his mind, and all Steve’s gonna do is smile, sit on his side of the couch, and continue the conversation.

“How’s that book you were working on going?” Steve asks. He rubs his thumb over the back of Billy’s hand once, and stops. When Billy squeezes his hand, he resumes the movement, sending pleasant tingles up Billy’s arm.

“Good. The writer was receptive to what I said. They sent me a couple reworked chapters today,” Billy says, moving closer to Steve, so their arms press together.

As the conversation goes on, Billy presses closer and closer, at his own pace, and Steve accepts it crumb by crumb.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve Steve, or how Steve is so patient with him. Steve loves physical contact. Billy does, too, but he’s so particular about it that sometimes he wonders if he’s even worth sticking around for.

Billy ends up lying on top of Steve, chest to chest, nose tucked into his throat, breathing in his warmth and his scent.

“Don’t touch my neck, okay?” He asks, hunching his shoulders a little.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, easy as that. “Can I touch your hair?”

“Yeah.”

Steve turns his head and kisses Billy’s head, right on the hairline, pulling a deep, content sigh from him.

“Thanks, Stevie,” Billy says, squeezing his ribs just a little tighter. “For doing this for me. Being patient.”

Steve looks down at him, frowning slightly.

“‘Course. You shouldn’t— You don’t have to thank me,” He says, earnest. “It’s not a chore, Billy. You’re not…” He licks his lips, trying to think. When he looks at Billy, it's like he's telling him a secret. “You make me happy. All of you.”

Billy’s smile is wide, stretching his full lips and showing his teeth, and Billy only drops it so he can kiss Steve.

They keep it chaste, an unhurried, soft press of lips, enjoying their intimacy and their closeness and their familiarity. Simple as it is, it's one of the best kisses he's had. Steve's the best person he's ever met.

When Steve touches him, he feels safe. Billy wants to keep him.

[screamfome]

guys I maybe like John bender(John hcs)

(MENTIONS OF ABUSE!)

I was watching the fresh prince of bel air and it was a Christmas episode I believe?? Idk but Hilary mentioned JUDD NELSON AND I ALMOST SCREAMED BUT MY MOM WAS IN THE ROOM SO I HAD TO ACT NORMAL BUT I WAS SMILING NONONONONONONONNO

John bender n you sharing a blunt

vampire John bender,

John bender fixit au where he was never abused by his family. John bender who still lives with the breakfast club as an adult.

John bender who grows up to be successful despite what Vernon and his father says.

John bender BECOMING BUCK TAYLOR FROM RELENTLESS 1989- my bad guys…I love connecting two of my favorite films together…(ahem ahem, STAND BY ME TURNS INTO THE LOST BOYS.- *cough cough* ACE MERRILL DIES AND BECOMES DAVI-*)

John bender who isn’t scared of horror at all because what he went through was scarier than Micheal Myers. John Bender who makes jokes to cope with his trauma.

John bender who doesn’t have a therapist and cannot afford it so one of the members is his therapist(bonus if he lays on their lap as they run their fingers through his hair AGHHHHHH).John bender who becomes a therapist for abuse survivors who went through the same thing he did. IN FACT ILL DO YOU ONE BETTER.

JOHN BENDER WHO BECOMES A TEACHER AND RECOGNIZES THE SIGNS OF A CHILD BEING ABUSED AND DOESNT BLOW IT OFF AND INSTEAD MAKES SURE THAT THE WILL GET THE CARE THAT THEY NEED.

Bisexual/Pansexual John Bender(listen you can’t tell me that man is bisexual or pansexual,he’s just like ME.)

John who loves snakes.

John who actually WOULD hang out with the lost boys.

John and David would be best friends ABSOLUTELY.

John who stares at everyone on the first date(yeah that’s right)

John who hates cops.(they did nothing to help him and his dad was one so he doesn’t really like them)

PUNK JOHN BENDER.

John bender who stole a switchblade(then Allison took it)

John bender who hates birthdays and only remembered his birthday through his other family members that came by for a “Bender family reunion”.

John Bender who was jealous of everyone in the breakfast club. Especially Brian + Claire. Andrew related to him as did Allison.

John Bender who listens to all Grunge Bands.

John Bender who has an album of Jimi Hendrix(I NEED TO LISTEN TO MORE SONGS,I LIKE HEY JOE SO FAR)

John bender who would become famous by making a band and naming it “The Breakfast Club” to honor his friends. He would then make an album dedicated to each member,the last one being for himself.

John Bender who grew up too fast.

John Bender who slowly likes to read books.

John bender who’s more used to everyone calling him “Bender” but not John. Sometimes it’s used to differentiate him and other John’s , but most times people use it because they don’t respect him enough to call him by his first name. Because John acts like a jerk to others so they don’t even call him by John.

when he IS called “John” he is deeply confused and doesn’t even know you’re referring to him. Tbh he completely forgot that his name was John.

John is absent from school the majority of time due to his home life and sometimes he just skips school entirely. He only came whenever there was something that dealt with HIM in general. Until the breakfast club formed.

John bender who becomes a lawyer…and defends the wronged.

John Bender who is so scared of becoming a father and does not want a child. If he did have one however, he!d be frightened of being like his father to the point where he wouldn’t want to take care of the kid at all.

John bender with anger issues and does not bottle up his feelings at all.

John Bender who believes he’s a criminal and was trapped in the mindset of “if they think I’m a criminal,I’ll be the criminal.” And just does bad things to tick people off.

John who becomes softer with time.

John who will randomly point out random things like “Look” as he grows softer because I KNOW HE WOULD.

He doesn’t know affection and if you hugged him or something he would immediately think that you wanted something from him.

But when HE DOES? OH HE WILL SMOTHER YOU IN LOVE.

He never got a gift in his entire life other than Christmas and his 10th birthday.

If you saw him blush,no you didn’t. It’s the Sun.

John Bender who’s house is near A BASKETBALL COURT MY BOY IS BALLIN’.

John bender who’s like 6’1.

John Bender who’s fairly skinny under his clothes. John Bender who’s insecure about his looks because of it. He can’t even bear to look at himself.

John Bender who doesn’t know how to cry(HES LIKE NILES CRANE BEFORE DAPHNE KISSED THAT BARISTA GUY-)

John’s full name is John Abraham (short form:Abra) Bender…(@danyayeni2)

John Bender is a senior by the time the breakfast club movie events happened.

Cat John BENDER. I SAY IT ONCE AND AGAIN.

[kokiriofthevalley]

My silly little Link headcannons

hii again I'm very bored rn sooo

again for Zelda, it's only the major ones, sorry obscure link fans

also wtf is this gif I found 😭😭

Skyward Sword

✯has the biggest crush on his Zelda bc they're so close

✯like it's VERY obvious how they feel about eachother

✯His fav flavour of ice cream is Oreo ice cream but he also loves toffee and vanilla too

✯He can talk but he prefers sign language (dialect of sign language may vary on preference ((like ASL or BSL or LSE, ect)) ) and talks to save time in an emergency in case the other person may not know sign, but DOES sign if they do

For this one, I thought about the cutscenes where he's explaining something (like the current location or condition of Zelda) to another character and we can see his mouth moving.

✯no because if video games existed in skyloft, i just know that he's playing stardew valley and papas freezeria. I can feel it in my BONES

✯Definitely woke up under his bed once and hit his head on the bedframe

✯him and Groose have insult battles but then they get ice cream together after

Ocarina of Time/Majora's Mask

✯somebody get this poor boy a therapist and a hug PLEASE

Twilight Princess

✯it felt natural to him when he transformed using the Zora mask in mm, because both the models for adult link and Zora link are the same size

✯mute

✯i think he played the ocarina like a recorder (aka with no experience at all) and did each note individually and the magic of the ocarina of time was probably like "there is NO WAY that I'm letting this kid tarnish my reputation goddamit" and made the songs sound nicer after he had played all the notes

✯forgot once that he was a kid again and walked to Romani ranch to get some chateau Romani and was genuinely surprised when Cremia said no

✯Had more of a genuine connection to Midna, but still had a friendship with princess Zelda

Wind Waker

✯felt a strange familial connection to the hero of shades when he met him and made link want to find out who the hero of shades was

✯does NOT like how short he is when he transforms into a wolf

✯Best poker face in history

Breath of the Wild

✯Gives Aryll piggybacks when she wants

✯would gladly eat his grandma's soup for the rest of his life

✯His grandma gave him the recipe to her soup when he left to discover the new Hyrule

✯Has the most major and unhidable (that's not a word but who cares) side eye in the history of time

✯If the events of WW didn't happen, I think he would have grown up to be a cartographer or he would REALLY like making his own maps

✯sorry to get all angsty but I don't think he wanted to kill Ganondorf. I just don't. I don't think either of them wanted to kill eachother. I feel like Link feels guilty about it because it's so obvious that it was only self defense after the triforce was touched by king Daphnes and it literally drove Ganondorf insane

Tbh I'd go crazy too if something I had wanted so badly got taken by another person even tho I literally got SEALED IN ANOTHER FUCKING REALM FOR A LONG AMOUNT OF TIME for it

Again sorry for no totk for this one pls no spoilers

✯Gets ambushed by Yiga so many times that he knows their names

*Yiga poofs into existence* "IM HERE TO KILL YOU LINK, IN REVENGE FOR MASTER KOHGA!!!!"

"oh hi jerry, nice weather eh?" -link

✯After he saved princess Zelda, he took a nap that lasted 4 ENTIRE days

✯not even the sound of kass' accordion could wake his ass up

✯very obvious but if he wasn't a knight, he would be a chef. Not sous chef. He would be head chef.

✯His hands are probably rough as hell from all that Hero Of Hyrule™-ing he has done

✯despite being able to lift heavy objects, his arms are still noodles

[nerhusconnection]

Solveig: “… And as the third element I took pictures with your old camera and used those for that collage, too. I could feel how it added to the meaning, and changed the meaning of the cloth and the painted bits. It’s definitely something I’ll explore further. I have to say, this mixed media project was rather intriguing for a change. I didn’t expect Mr. Cramer to come up with a project like this. Not that my work made it into the exhibition. He decided to pick three rather boring works but they had big titles. One was called ‘Peace’, all blue and doves and feathers, one ‘Exploring me’, she used nudes of herself for it, can you imagine that? I wouldn’t be surprised if he had jacked off on it. And I forgot the title of the third one. Mine was just called ‘A Study in Black and Red’ because that’s what it was. But it was so much better than the ones he picked.”

Malte: "I’m sad I missed the exhibition. Sounds like we could have had a lot of fun there. Will you show me the picture when we’re back home?”

Solveig: “Sure, no problem. I can also show you some other stuff I made since you were here last time.”

Malte: “Yes, please do, I’d love that. But there is one other thing I want to hear about. Mom said the school called again?"

Solveig scoffed: "Oh, I knew it. Are you going full big brother on me again?"

Malte didn't reply, so they walked in silence, with the only noises being the sound of crunching snow and an occasional bird’s call.

After a while Solveig started to talk again. "They said I might fail this year and not get the recommendation for Art College."

Malte: "What happened?"

Solveig groaned. "I just hate it. I just hate everything. And now you are gone, and I hate that, too. Everything bores me and I'm just so angry all the time. The others in my year are mostly busy with calling each other gay or gossiping about who is doing it with whom. Or dissing each other for the most stupid shit. The other day Henrik told Line she was just as gross as her sister. You know, the one with cerebral palsy? I know I should have used other means to convey my averseness to this display of dumbassery. But I couldn't help it. And the biggest fuck? The dean told me afterwards that he feels Henrik had deserved to get his face smashed but of course blablabla."

Malte: “What a jerk. Are you still seeing Dr. Poulsen?”

Solveig: “Of course. And she is amazing, and it does help, and it got much better. I'm good, usually. And yes, we talked about it already. It’s just… it was ok when you were traveling, I knew you’d come back. But now… you’ll probably not. So I’m stuck here. And… it doesn’t make it any easier.”

Malte just nodded. She had been struggling with impulse control all her life and he had to pick her up from the dean’s office more than once in the past. She was her father’s daughter after all.

Malte: “So what’s the status now?”

Solveig shrugged. “I don’t know. Mom talked to the dean, he wants to have written confirmation I see a therapist regularly and I had to apologize to Henrik. And if anything else happens until the end of term they’ll expel me. “

Malte nodded. “That will be a long term for you then. Just one more term, Solveig… Do you think you will manage?”

She took her time with an answer. “I have to, don’t I? If I fuck this up, I have nothing. Mom is looking at me as if I had already failed. And her constant questions and offers... I know she cares, and I wouldn't want to miss it. But it’s not helping.” She grimaced.

“I’ll talk to Mom. And maybe we can arrange more sessions with Dr. Poulsen, like, two times a week?”, Malte asked. “I’ll help with the bills. Also, mom told me there was a new art school in town with an interesting program, maybe one of the classes would be something for you?”

Solveig nodded. “Yes, we already talked about that. Everything away from home and school is good." She grimaced again. "Man, this sounds so bad. I love them, you know I do, right? I just… I feel so trapped and I don’t want to hurt them.” She hesitated. “You know, I'm all happy for you, and I can't wait to meet Rachel, but can't you live here? Or, maybe I can come and live with you?"

Malte smiled. "You know the answer to that", he replied softly. "Also, Mom needs you, even if she is much better these days, and Anne-Lis does, too. And you need them just the same if you’re honest. At least for another while. But things will change, inevitably. And you'll do all the things you dream of, I know that. You can start right now, at least with some of it. You don't have to wait until some distant future happens."

Solveig: "I know, I know... Your footsteps are just so big, I can't walk in them."

Malte: "Solveig, you don't have to. You'll make your own, and they will be beautiful." He hugged her long and tightly. "And remember, I'll always be your pesky big brother, just a phone call away."

Solveig snuffled a bit. "When did you grow up, Fishhead?"

[archivalofsins]

Huh- wild week so far. Well, I guess this is less about this one week and more about the past three years.

On top of yesterday, I had a disability court hearing today. Something that had been stressing me out for a while in private.

That got postponed for later due to paperwork issues. Yet at that brief meeting it became abundantly clear to the judge, my mother, my sister, a friend, and their mom-

Yep, still disabled. Most definitely.

So, let's postpone until you get the representative paperwork that is required by law as of eight days ago in because you cannot do this without one.

Then after that my sister discovered that the psychiatrist who's been purposely blocking me from disability and accommodations for going three years as of 08/17/24. This woman is literally mentioned in the court document 334 times and the document itself is a total of 375 pages. Yeah that person became a limited liability psychiatric specialist. Something that means she is protected when it comes to cases of malpractice.

Neato. Love to see a bad bitch winning, gaslight, gatekeep, get legally protected from screwing over your patients by becoming limited liability~

That psychiatrist who I have mentioned here before was mentally abusive, dehumanized/infantilized me, withheld my diagnosis forms (for several months after testing completed), tried to get me institutionalized by claiming I was suicidal because I stated I was cutting ties with her after getting said forms, and retroactively changed my diagnosis after I cut ties while claiming I hadn't done that despite the fact I sent her a formal sign and dated letter stating I was doing that.

This is the state of american mental health care if you're black. I suppose-

Yet, some know-it-alls will still go if you have x why aren't you diagnosed. Prove it go on.

I've been in what can only be referred to as Schrodinger's diagnoses since 2022 because of this one woman. This one psychiatrist. Who for all I know is legally protected from the consequences of her actions now. Like the things she actively choose to do which includes lying Social Security Administration with malicious intent which is perjury.

Something that has led to several ever postponing court hearings based on her words alone. Each time going well maybe it will be over after this. Maybe, this will be the last time. Even worse I'm pretty sure if I was still living in the city where I was born (where it's difficult to even get a mail in ballot for some people), this may not have even gotten as far as being seen by a judge.

I genuinely thought well that's just how things are for African Americans for like the past several years. Because it is this lady's actions weren't new to me when she did it yeah it was terrible but I literally said multiple times well that's just how it goes.

Until this phone call today where several people went hey these are actually egregiously horrid circumstances and this bitch is insane.

She deserves to be sued. So, at this point, if anyone tries to act like early diagnosis isn't a privilege afforded to a lucky few- They can honestly kiss my whole ass. I don't have time to explain the intersectionality of race and class when it comes to the mental healthcare one is capable of obtaining be it through school, vocation, or familial intervention outside of what I'm typing right now.

Which is the most extreme case in my circle of associates. Even my mother was like "Oh my god she never told why didn't you explain in depth." to which I went oh yeah I forgot about that like it was just a casual thing.

Because everything else is fucking outlandish the therapist before her refused to test me because I could hold a conversation and believed critical race theory shouldn't be taught in schools which dates that interaction rather well. At that point the bar was in the fucking in the fucking ground I just wanted to get tested. That's not even touching on how most people only test children for the things I wanted to get tested for which was the issue with the critical race theory shouldn't be taught in schools psychiatrist.

My current therapist the one into Milgram has been like oh my gosh I'm just happy you wanted to continue therapy- Because this literally happened while I was seeing her. The person retesting me for adhd was like oh my gosh I'm just happy you're trying again. Meanwhile my ass has been here like it's not big deal shit happens no reason to give up on seeking treatment and lose faith in psychology as a whole. I like psychology people don't always use it right but it is a truly great field of study and tool for navigating life.

Which I still believe is a fair reaction but maybe not a strong enough one considering the last person who diagnosed me literally tried to have me arrested due to said diagnosis. Then went lol there's nothing wrong with her to a court of law in order to make it as difficult as possible for me to get disability or accommodations in any way.

Also learned my visual processing is slow and it's immensely understandable I'm not okay with driving and that's been my Tuesday. I have therapy at four pm.

In short fuck people who commit malpractice~

This shit is not fun to go through but at least I'm still alive. Next year I'll be thirty dealing with the fall out of something that happened when I was literally-

This shit is impressive. What the actual fuck is my life right now? I hope this ends soon but now my family, my friend and her mom are discussing suing this woman. Because got damn this is a lot... Fuck it. It happens to others too probably I don't know any others but like if it happened to me it's happening to someone else probably as I type this because,

Sources

Forbes Advisor: Medical Malpractice Statistics Of 2024 The Law Offices Of Jaroslawicz & Jaros, PLLC: When Can You Sue a Mental Health Professional for Malpractice? Lipkin & Apter: Types of Psychiatric Malpractice

Learning a lot today. Know your rights I suppose. Well I can take solace in knowing some of the prisoners experiences with this have been just as bad. Silver linings you know it's happen to more people because it's somewhat being represented in media for once instead of blatantly fucking ignored.

[elisysd]

Castles Crumbling

Cruel Summer Masterlist

Charles and Lyanna's relationship

And here I sit alone, behind walls of regret Falling down like promises that I never kept

He forgot it. He forgot to pick up his son from his weekly session with his therapist. He didn’t have much to do, just to pick him up so that Lyanna could enjoy her afternoon without having to worry about anything. Yet, he couldn’t even do something as simple as pick up his son. Lyanna had received a call from the center saying that Louis was alone and was waiting for an hour now. She had left abruptedly and found her son, tears straining his cheeks and remaining silent. She had tried her best to make him say someting, even if it was just a sound but she had to give up as he refused to pronounce a word.

When she finally got back home, she was fuming. Not only was she angry but she was sad and disappointed. Lately Charles was hell bent on the idea of winning one last title to the point that nothing seemed to matter around him beside the victory. Sometimes Lyanna was not recognizing the man she had married almost fifteen years ago. And sometimes, when se was alone in bed, waiting for his call that he had promised her but never gave, she couldn’t help but think that maybe it was the end of them. All that their marriage was now was only empty promises and little white lies for the sake of pretending that everything was fine in front of the kids.

The man that had promised her to always come back to her was just the shadow of himself.

When Louis and her got back home, she sent her son away, promising him that she would come to play with him later and went to the office, in the back of the house where her husband was having a conversation with some members of the Ferrari staff. When he saw her in the door way he silently indicated her that he was busy but Lyanna didn’t care. Forgetting his son was the last straw. One she would not ignore. She stepped in the room, waved to the staff and pressed the mute button.

“Lyanna. I don’t have time right now. It’s a very important meeting.”

“More important than you son, apparently.’ she said, taking him by surprise.

She could see him mutter a “shit” and not wanting to create a scene, she left the room. She didn’t know what else to add. She heard Charles saying that he would call back, that there was an emergency at home and she heard his footsteps behind her.

“I can’t do that anymore Charles…” whispered Lyanna as she was sitting down on the sofa, her head between her hands.

“Can’t do what, Lyanna?”

“This. Us. I’m tired, I’ve got nothing left in me.”

“What do you mean? Lyanna talk to me.”

“You’re never there!” she exploded. “ After all this time, you're still chasing pipe dreams. Whereas I'm here, with your daughter and your son, waiting for you. But I have the feeling that you don't care... that one last title with Ferrari is all that matters to you.”

“That’s not true. You know that.”

“Where were you for the appointments with the doctor and the psychologists when we couldn't understand why Louis lagged behind the other children in speaking or even making a sound? When he refused to look at me and I didn't understand and thought it was my fault, that I was doing something wrong, that I was a bad mother because I couldn't understand my baby's needs? Did you know that Louis can't stand his vegetables being mixed? Did you know that I have to sort them by colour before giving them to him, otherwise he won't eat them? That before every excursion I have to put on his noise-cancelling headphones, otherwise he cries because he can't stand certain noises? Of course you don't know. How could you? I can't do that anymore Charles. They need you. I need you, I need my husband.” she let a strangled sounD escape her throat and she was crying.

“Lyanna, you can’t ask me to leave everything behind. I know that I can do it, I know that I can win one last championship. I do it for you love, I do it for Julia and Louis. Whenever I step into the car, I think of you. You guys are my fuel.”

“But we don’t care about any of this, that’s what you don’t understand. And if you can’t understand… maybe that means that we are not on the same page anymore.”

“Are… are you saying that you want to divorce?” he was astonished and his voice hoarse. Tears were threatening to fall.

“I don’t know Charles… I don’t know.”

He tried to take her in his arms but she rejected him. He tried to take her hand but it seemed like it was not fitting in his anymore.

“I love you, Lyanna. You’re the love of my life.” His voice sounded like a plea. He wanted her to believe him but she shook her head.

“So prove it Charles…”

Charles remembered how Lyanna left that night, saying that she needed space to think things through. He stayed alone, in their big house with Julia and Louis and for the first time he felt like a stranger in his own family. He didn’t know what Louis needed, he didn’t know what to say to him, he didn’t know how to be the dad the little boy needed. And from afar, he looked at his daughter doing everything he should be the one doing. Cutting vegetables in regular pieces, being careful to not mix anything, always making herself seen by Louis so he wouldn’t be startled. When finally he was alone with his daugther she spoke.

“I understand why mom left tonight.”

“Did she tell you anything?”

Charles was hoping that since Lyanna was not answering his texts, she would at least update Julia.

“No. But she doesn’t need to. I see how unhappy she has been lately. She misses you. I miss you too. We all miss you, even Louis. You screwed up bad, dad.”

“I know, princess. All I’ve ever wanted was to give you all a nice life, one you would be proud of. I want to make you all proud.”

“But that’s the thing, dad. We are all already so proud of you. I love you, even if you were not a world champion. And that’s the same for mom.”

“What should I do, then?”

“I think you know. But the question is, are you ready for it?”

Without another word, she got up, kissed her dad’s cheek and went to her room. She was trying to be strong, for Louis but seeing their family picture, taken during Christmas last year, she let a tear fall from her eye. She didn’t want to have a broken family.

The next few weeks, Charles hadd several meetings in addition to the races and the season was almost coming to an end. After a lot of thought he finally made a decision and he was hoping that it would save his marriage. He was going to retire. His place was with his family, that is where he needed to be. They were right, they needed him but if Charles was being honest with himself, he needed them more.

Lyanna took his decision with caution. This was a first step towards repairing the broken pieces of their relationship. But it would need time and she hoped that Charles was ready. To her surprise, it’s him who brougt up the idea of couple councelling. And Lyanna agreed. And it helped them. Slowly but surely, Lyanna was starting to see the man she had fallen in love with all those years ago, coming back to her.

=================

author's note: Don't hate me please lmao. Next bonus is the last one and will be a focus on Julia and Ethan, hehehe. It won't be as sad as the previous ones don't worry. No more heartbreaks for you guys.

taglist

@zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali @blueflorals @aundercover @ruleroftheuniverse @fangirlika @writerscurse @elijahmikaelsonbitch @leclerc13 @karmabyfernando @stargaryenx @pitlanebabe @boiohboii @reengard @shikshinkwon@smoooothoperator

[raayllum]

too many bangers to just do one little blurb, so here's a few of my favorite excerpts from the chapter that absolutely destroyed me

"...the dam bursting of every time she’d been frightened or hungry by herself, every time she’d wondered if she’d ever make it back to Katolis or see anyone she loved again, and the persistent pulsing push in her mind, constantly telling her that she didn’t deserve to." 

"'You are not a burden,” he continued. 'And even if you are, I want to carry you. You don’t have to be good enough, Rayla. There is no invisible standard you have to meet. You don’t have to be perfect to be perfect. You are not responsible for other people’s choices, and you don’t have to pay the prices for their mistakes. You don’t have to pay the price for your choices and mistakes.'"

"'You are a person and you deserve to be here without having to constantly be hurting yourself to earn it. You don't have to justify your existence by punishing yourself for it. You deserve to just be. To live and exist and be loved. Unconditionally.'"

chapter 7 man.... lives were changed. as someone who has the absolutely hardest time describing feelings--especially something as complex and messy as depression and suicidal thoughts feel--you just absolutely blew me away. and THEN to just put therapists across the globe to shame with the literal most perfect affirmations of all time? when i said this chapter destroyed me i forgot to mention that it also healed me. this is classic literature. this fic should be required reading in schools. shakespeare and my therapist are rolling in their respective graves

I have a lot of Rayla feelings in Ch7: at the end of the tunnel in particular tbh so I'll break them down here in regards to what went into the passages above.

To begin with, I'm so glad this part of the fic resonated with you. This isn't the last time we'll be addressing Rayla's mental health but it is one of the more prominent, as idk how anyone can watch s1-s4 + TTM and not take away that... she's not Doing Well, to say the least. I was definitely thinking about quotes from the show's writers with "Rayla can sometimes default to 'hurting myself is clearly a good, because I'm taking it away from someone else'" to heart.

I've written this discussion and affirmation scene in other fics, and explored Rayla's mental health before (probably most notably "say the winds won't change on us," "i care if i am guilty," and "i hope you die (i hope we both die)") but given that fanon s6 is such a big ambitious project I wanted to make sure I was getting it right in particular, here. While I've never experienced Rayla's forms of self loathing myself / to the same severity, I have quite a few people in my life that I deeply cherish who have, or in ongoing struggles with it, and I've been Callum here more than a few times.

I think a lot about how Rayla rarely allows to let two things matter if one of those things is herself ("Don't worry about my hand now; the egg is all that matters") when the boys are perfectly capable at holding space for multiple concerns, including themselves, in most instances. Rayla leaving in TTM is just the most extreme version of that, and I think the way Rayla will exceptionalize herself in a negative way—everyone else deserves good nice things / second chances / happiness except her, for Some Reason ("Your plan was fine! [...] You should cut yourself a break. Everyone messes up sometimes, or in my case, all the times [...] That shouldn't have mattered; I had a job to do")—is like... relatable for a Lot of people even when they don't also have symptoms of PTSD/depression/passive suicidal ideation.

Like Rayla was not safe or happy when she was away, and it would not surprise me at all if, while I don't think canon will necessarily touch on any of this as intensely as I have, I do think we'll get something of her having a hard time of her talking about how she suffered in favour of wanting to talk about how she made Callum suffer, for obvious reasons. Which is exactly why she left in the first place (s4 my beloved)

With all that out of the way I wanted to set up her breakdown accordingly:

You have the chapter title which is a reference to the literal tunnel they exit, and an Orpheus and Eurydice reference, while also very much being about Rayla finding the light at the end of her tunnel regarding her mental health

"I was a coward. I was weak." ("My parents aren't really dead, but I wish they were! They're cowards" / "It was the same problem every time. Hesitation, sympathy, distraction… all just weakness in a different mask.")

And then we see Callum shift to the heart of it, which is that her letter and mission was basically suicide and she knew it, and still won't really acknowledge it out loud or why it was Okay for her to do that but not for Callum to come with her, because she feels Inherently Unworthy and that there's something fundamentally broken with her, which has been pretty clear in canon for a while tbh.

With that in mind, I wanted to take Callum's viewpoint and affirmation a step further. I always say that the first step in therapy is learning to assume that no one is mad or annoyed with you at all times. The second step is learning that it's Okay even if someone is mad or upset with you. I think Rayla fears being a burden or more trouble than she's worth so much, and I think Callum at this point (in fic / canon, 5x01 you beautiful episode) has progressed to the point of like...

Rayla's not going to believe that she's not a burden, and sometimes people are burdens, shit happens, life is hard. What's most affirming for her to hear is that he wants her and loves her even if/when she IS a burden. It cuts right through all the bullshit and fear to the "you think you're terrible and awful and unworthy" and go "so what if you are? I still want you" and there's just not a lot of places for self loathing to go after that point. Like it's still there, but it can't grow to be as intensive, I find.

It's also written in mind from Callum's perspective because I've said this before, but Rayla is not an Easy person to love. Like feeling love for her is easy — she's warm and funny and kind — but she's not easy to love in terms of getting her to accept and rely on love. She's incredibly secretive and has a lot of hyper-independence as a result of her trauma and survivor's guilt, and Callum — especially post-s4 / 4x09 — has fully accepted all of this. Even if Rayla doesn't change, he's there. He knows this is not going to be an easy climb for either of them, but it's worth it to him, because it's her.

At the same time, Callum in canon has always been good at not making Rayla dependent on him ("You're too good to feel this bad about yourself. I know that, and you should know that" / "But it's your choice. No one else's" / "No, I meant what I said. You don't have to justify or explain anything to me") and emphasizing that she can and should want to get better and treat herself better for herself. So I really wanted to capture that vibe here. Rayla feels unworthy of his love, to an extent, yes, but it's also far more about her life and how routinely she puts what she wants on the back-burner... like, Rayla is a character who's always gone looking for redemption, and often times rightfully so! But I am very excited for her to realize there's nothing she has to Redeem herself for, there's nothing she has to earn or pay a price or suffer for in order to get to be Happy on the other end or put herself first for once. She deserves to just get to exist and live and be happy about that, y'know?

And I think Rayla also fundamentally wants those things, as she states at the beginning of the chapter, “I want to see the sun again first" before she'll let Callum heal her. Because you can only save someone who wants to be saved, and you can only save them so far if they want to save themselves, too, and that starts with you, that you have to want it. You have to want to live and love yourself.

Cause everyone deserves to. They really, really do.

And I just have a lot of feelings about fics / things / anything where Rayla goes "I don't want to be broken. Maybe I never was. And I want to live" because like. Yeah

[kitpanthera]

chapters 23-25 🎉

1. i forgot to ask about it with the last chapter, but what did bill need to do that required him to possess dipper? did they destroy the laptop?

2. with dipper spending all of that time in the mindspace, are there any other consequences beyond his internal clock being messed up?

3. dipper enjoying not being in control,,, not having to worry about what he's doing because he doesn't even want to be awake anymore,,,, side effects of always having to monitor and adapt to the moods of those around him? or constantly having to be "on" in case mabel needed him or needed his emotional support?

4. dipper doesn't care about his hands being hurt unless he has to go to the hospital for it because it'll delay their plans,,, i'm wailing in the streets. does bill not teach dipper any healing magic because he doesn't know any? it's not like an interdimentional demon with no weaknesses would need it!

5. "what i don't say doesn't mean anything." "i disagree." in one character interaction, you've outlined the entire story.

6. Axolotl!

- immediately calling him mason... to throw dipper off, because that's his birth name, or to signify how serious the conversation is?

- dipper feeling peace he's never felt before,,, i know it's the axolotl's soothing magic but it's also imagine it has to do with dipper never feeling at peace in general? the axolotl turns out to be a cosmic manifestation of anti-anxiety meds lol

- "i did not intervene last time, and the consequences were nearly catastrophic for this dimension." THIS dimension,,, the title being "take two",,, are they in something similar to a time loop? bill's second attempt at winning dipper over?

- the axolotl saying that they agreed on stuff and then dipper being an idiot NOT being one of the things lmaooo, frills is so messy for that 😭

- dipper trying to fight the peace so he can stand up to the axolotl and defend bill!!! he's absolutely right though -- i can't see bill doing well in the theraprism. it's not an environment that works for everyone! but dipper is giving him a reason to change,,,,

7. "even if i wanted to, which i don't, i have nothing to go back to." 😐 if i had a therapist, you would be hearing from them about this 😐

8. bill literally having a breakdown but dipper just cheering that they're making progress. at least he was able to help bill ground himself?

9. THE LAST SPEC OF BILL'S DIMENSION BEING A STAR IS SO CRUEL

10. no "it would eat you alive, pine tree" because dipper already knows that what destroyed bill's dimension isn't a monster to him!

11. dipper swearing not to betray bill,,, i wonder if there's more magic in statements like that than he realizes. not a deal but more like a magic promise, even if unintentional?

12. during the training with illusion-ford, ford cuts himself off from the third thing he was going to list bill as,,, billford nation rise ‼️

13. dipper literally repeating what he said last chapter about being in too deep,,,, i wonder if he's really pondering about that or just something he's accepted?

14. "i'd like to see mom and dad ignore that!" i'm going to end up on national news ✨️🥰💞 though i'm sure his parents would still find a way to ignore him during the apocalypse!

15. "nothing anyone says will be able to change my mind." hm.

16. dipper reflecting the changes he's gone through,,, him stepping out of the shadows,,,, (shooting stars do burn very bright! some awfully dark shadows there)

17. dipper going to stan and being all "it's a day for family" probably did more to convince stan that bill was being possessed than anything bill ever did

18. stan being proud of dipper for coming back to them and trying to reconnect,,, trying so hard to not think of him when things inevitably explode

19. dipper's whole "i still care about you and stan and everyone" speech to mabel,,, he really does, even if he isn't usually showing it! it's just buried under all of the anger and hurt he feels right now

20. "the invisible twins" i'm telling you: i'm going to end up on national news. they're both invisible,,, mabel just got lucky and has a sheet over her to show people she's still there.

21. once stan has the whole picture, he's going to realize dipper only believed in him because of bill. the twins' roles were switched,,, but neither of them trusted HIM.

1. They did! The consequences will be seen in the novella, actually.

2. His internal clock is messed up, and being awake and in control of his body, he feels very heavy. Spending most of your time out of body or at the very least, floating, will make it feel like that. Any further consequences, yet to be seen.

3. Yeah, basically! He's always "on", always having to worry about everything and everyone around him. With Bill in control, he doesn't have to worry. Someone else can take on the burdens he never asked to bare, and can face consequences for not doing it.

4. Yeah, healing magic isn't really his thing. He supposes he could heal, but he's never learned how. Generally the things Bill has done to others are... beyond healing. He's always healed from his own wounds on his own account, naturally. Because of his species, he's a fast healer, but humans don't work the same way.

4a. Clarifying a point I realized I didn't clarify before: I know Bill says he can't feel pain in his triangle form. However, he is also a lying liar. He has basically become desensitized to it in that form. Aside from his eye, which is permanently sensitive due to... silly straws.

5. :)

6. The Axolotl Section

1. Oh, definitely a sign of how serious he's being. Also a bit of a show of omniscience.

2. He's only ever felt any level of peace with Bill before. The Axolotl has magic peace, which is naturally just More™️. Sort of based on the vague Biblical concept of the peace that passes all understanding. Just pure peace that comes from being in the presence/under influence of a good deity.

3. I wonder? A good question indeed... :)

4. He calls Dipper out subtly and with ✨ love ✨

5. Dipper will stand up against God himself (clearly) to defend Bill. He knows him pretty well at this point, and he knows that he himself wouldn't want therapy, wouldn't do well with it, so he knows Bill wouldn't even more.

7. :) He is in too deep!

8. He's not forcing anything. He won't force anything, because he knows it would be harmful, so he pretends he doesn't understand, and everything is fine. If he keeps doing that, eventually Bill will trust him enough to open up more! That's his goal. He also knows how to get Bill to calm down. :)

9. :)

10. Exactly!

11. With their pact bond, who knows...

12. ‼️‼️

13. He kinda knows he's in too deep to ever go back, but he's in willingly, so he's fine with it.

14. Oh trust me! :)

15. :)

16. :)

17. Dipper likes to act like he's just as omniscient as Bill sometimes, even though he's not. He does know more than he should!

18. I think a lot of things will fall into place for Stan at that point! He's kinda a whump baby for me, though :)

19. Yes! He does still care! He's actually a sweet boy! He's just grappling with a lot and also planning the apocalypse!

20. ✨ Exactly ✨

21. See my previous comment about Stan in question 19 (whump baby) :)

[caitierose-butwithfics]

Exes and Woahs

Author's Note/Description: This is just a silly little idea I had where Brezziana gets her heart broken by some ass... some ass Jack knows more than he would like to;) (And yes the Exes name is Valentino because of that one Years And Years song it's one of my favorites and it's currently stuck in my head oki)

Currently very sick so if this fic seems like a fever dream it probably was anyway-

Jack was perfectly cozy and content on the coach, reading a book with the early evening light coming from the window making him feel warm inside and out. He had been trading between his friends' Danceverses, and Brezziana had insisted he stay with her for a little. Dancity was busy and constantly full of excitement, but in the evening all of that died down and you could feel peace and tranquility rest on the Danceverse. It was soothing to Jack's soul.

Jack's reading was interrupted when he heard a disturbance outside. Looking out the window, he could see Brezziana talking with an unknown figure in a very animated way. Talking wasn't the best way to put it. Screaming obscenities was better.

He couldn't see who the other person was, but Brezziana took one last swing at the guy before stocking inside of the house and slamming the door. Jack could not make out a single word she was saying as she stared at the door with watery eyes. Finally she took a shake breath and slammed her back on the door, taking shaky breaths and descending into messy tears as she lowered herself to the door floor.

Jack stared at her, dumbfounded for a moment. He had to say something.

"Uhhh... Brezz, you ok?"

Brezziana nearly jumped out of her skin with a startled scream. She saw Jack on the couch and took a deep breath.

"Christ Jack, forgot you were there."

"You uh... you wanna talk about it?"

"No." Brezziana stared into the distance, gripping her arm so hard she was sure to lose blood circulation. She shook her head, tears starting to run freely down her cheeks. "Yes."

Jack had no time to respond before the Dancer threw herself onto the coach and started to sob unto his shoulder. He started to pat her back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. Whenever Brezziana hugged him, it was because she wanted to support him and let him know he was one of them. That's how she had always been. If the conversation somehow turned to Mother, she was quick to change it. If he ever seemed drained or overstimulated, she was quick to make sure he had peace and quiet and time to rest. She had even gotten weighted blankets and soothing teas and herbs in her house in preparation for Jack's visit. Jack had always wanted to pay her back for her kindness, but never knew how. He guessed this was one way to show his appreciation, he just was never great at being the shoulder to cry on. He hoped he was doing ok.

"5 months!!!" Brezziana cried into his shoulder. "5 months of me pouring everything into that man and what does he do?? He cheats on me!!! With one surfer girl from Sun Horizon, one carnival act from Carnivalium, and that stupid blonde reporter guy from Winterhaven!!! 3 different people!!! He's nothing but a-but a-" She hid her face back into Jack's shoulder and started cussing the guy out in Spanish. Or at least, that's what Jack assumed she was saying from the sound of her tone.

"God, the guy sounds like a douche." Nice one Jack. Gotta put that on your resume. Performer, Danceverse hero, and as of recently, worst therapist in all of Dancity.

Brezziana was silent for a little before giving a dejected sniffle. "Total douche." She sat up and stared daggers at the ground with her red eyes. "Valentino Rivera, total douchebag."

Jack raised an eyebrow at that name. Had he heard that name correctly? He knew a Valentino Rivera. Better yet, he had dated a Valentino Rivera.

When he was about 17 Jack had decided to try to date online. It was the most rebellious thing he could do without his mom finding out. As long as he was careful enough.

Turns out, there was a really nice guy named Valentino that was from Eternyx. Jack used to sneak out as much as he could to secluded areas with Valentino. Valentino of course didn't know who his mom was, but that was ok. They used to talk about their future together, how they would run away from Eternyx and start their life again in a better Danceverse. Until 3 months later when Valentino ghosted Jack and moved to Dancity. Apparently Jack wasn't part of that equation after all.

Brezziana shook her head, scrubbing at her eyes. "The worst part about this is I owe Mihaly so much money."

Jack leaned back, a confident smirk on his face. "So what I'm hearing is that betting on the outcome of your shitty relationships is a quick and easy way to earn money, no?"

Brezziana nudged him in the shoulder. "No! Not you too!"

Jack stood up and dusted himself off before offering a hand to Brezziana. "Come on. I'm sure Wanderlust can find the guy's house in no time, if your down to egg it."

Brezziana accepted his hand with her usual mischievous smile. "Now that sounds like a plan."

[kamryn1963]

So Long, London- Chapter 11

Things did start looking up. Al decided to turn back to journaling, something a therapist he used to go to years ago, suggested. It had been a long time since Al did it but he forgot how much it helped. After writing down everything he remembered and felt about the Dennis Lee case and the blame he thought he held, Al began forgiving himself. 

It was a slow process but writing everything out helped and he was starting to feel better. He even started leaving the pocket knife at home and not bringing it with him to work everyday. 

Trudy was also doing better. She had ended up taking a week off and after that and after Nadia’s funeral, Al saw her start to heal and give herself time to grief before coming back to work.

Erin still wasn’t doing well and not back to work. He knew she handed Hank her badge and “quit” but Al also knew that she’d be back eventually. It would just take some time for her. They had talked a couple days ago on the phone, Al just wanting her to know he was there when she was ready. He was surprised but glad that Erin didn’t hang up on him right away and let him speak. 

Now he was on his way to meet Linda Sovana. Alvin had gotten that phone call the day before. That had been a surprise if he ever had one. He didn’t even know that Linda knew Al had been an undercover cop when they met, let alone his name and number. 

After the meeting he was left with more questions than answers. The meeting had lasted a whole ten minutes where Linda had been incredibly vague before leaving. Al stood there longer. He had taken the morning off work so he had three hours of time and a whole ton of questions. 

Al sighed and climbed back in his car. He could go into work now anyway, but Al had somewhere else he was going to try to go first to get his mind off this meeting with Linda and check in on his neice. It was about a twenty minute drive from where he was. 

When Al pulled up, he was glad to see Erin’s car was the only one in the driveway and he didn’t have to deal with Bunny today. 

Al was also glad to find the front door was unlocked. It was good for him but why did no one care about safety? 

Al let himself in finding Erin on the couch looking like she was nursing a pretty bad hangover as she looked up and met his eyes. 

“That’s called breaking and entering”. Erin said her words slightly slurred as Al perched on the edge of the armchair. 

“Don’t leave the front door unlocked than”. Al retorted as he looked her over. She looked as bad as she had sounded on the phone. 

“What are you doing here? Hank send you?” Erin asked once she realized Al wasn’t about to leave anytime soon. 

“I was in the area. I wanted to check on you, entirely on my own free will”. Al replied. 

“Well I don’t need checking on ''. Erin responded defensively as she stood up and stumbled to the kitchen. 

“Clearly”. Al scoffed. 

Erin didn’t reply, just rolled her eyes as she grabbed two mugs and started making a pot of coffee. 

“What were you doing in the area?” Erin asked after a couple minutes of silence. Al wasn’t just going to leave and at least this way he wouldn’t be questioning her. 

“Meeting somebody. A woman I met on an undercover assignment I was on, oh, fifteen years ago now”. Al replied as Erin came back in the room and handed him one of the mugs which he accepted with a nod of thanks. 

“She just randomly called you?” Erin questioned and Al understood why it sounded weird. It was weird to him. 

“Yeah. Didn’t tell me why either, was really vague”. 

“Do you think it’s anything bad?” Erin asked. Despite quitting her job, Erin had missed this. She just wasn’t ready to go back and see Nadia’s empty desk everyday. 

“I’m not sure, honestly. Probably, but if that was the case, wouldn’t she tell me instead of meeting up with me and not saying anything. All she really said was reminding me that she saved my ass, when I was undercover and told me to remember that”. Al said as he thought about the interaction. That part stuck out to him the most. 

“That’s not creepy at all”. Erin replied as she rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee. 

Al chuckled as he nodded and drank his own coffee. 

“Keep me updated?” Erin asked and Al could see the concern in his eyes. 

“Of course, kid”. 

Al ended up staying another hour until Erin said she was going to try to sleep for a bit, and Al decided to just head into work. Al hugged her before he left, making sure to tell Erin again that he was always there to talk. 

Work was fine, a regular case which was good because Al’s mind was occupied with his meeting with Linda. 

Four days later he had his answer. 

A week later he was driving to a cafe to meet with Michelle Sovana. The fifteen year old tennager that was apparently his daughter. 

Al understood what Linda meant when she said not to forget that she saved his cover all those years ago, Linda was going away so what better time than to spring the fact he has another daughter on him. 

Al tried not to think about that night. The night he slept with Linda. That supposed to be a few weeks undercover assignment, had turned into a year. This had happened near the end. Linda hadn’t lived in the same city as her cousin who Al was trying to take down for years, but moved back there in the eighth month of his assignment. 

Al’s Sergeant wanted him out as much as Al himself wanted out and told Al the best way to end this was for him to use Linda to get information. 

Al never wanted to do that, didn’t want to cheat on Meredith and ruin his marriage but he knew he didn’t have much of a choice. He either slept with Linda for the information, or his Sergeant made it pretty clear he wouldn’t have a job anymore. 

Al made a choice but he hated himself for it everyday. 

When he met Michelle, Al decided he might hate himself a little less now. 

Michelle was already there, huddled in a booth with a backpack. Al took a minute to just look her over. 

Trudy had joked before that his genes were strong when Lexi came out looking so much like him and little like Meredith, but he really saw it right now n Michelle who looked like a female version of him. . 

Al would probably do a paternity test later, he was almost positive he wasn’t the only man Linda was sleeping with back then, and he didn’t want to get anyones hopes up, but Al would be surprised if Michelle wasn’t his with how alike him she looked. 

Eventually Michelle seemed to spot him and Al took a deep breath before coming over and sitting across from her. Neither of them said anything until Michelle finally broke the silence looking at him. 

“You're Alvin right? My dad apparently”. Michelle asked and Al could see the various emotions in her eyes. 

“I am. And your Michelle”. Al replied as he started tapping his fingers on the table unsure what to say or do. 

“Look I just need some money and I won’t bother you again”. Michelle said after a few minutes of awkward silence. 

Al instantly shook his head but still reached for his wallet. “You're not bothering me, Michelle. Not at all”. Al responded as he grabbed out all the cash he had. Fifty dollars, and handed it to her. 

“Thanks”. Michelle responded as she solved it into her backpack and went to stand up. 

“Do you need a ride? I’m more than happy to take you somewhere”. Al offered. He wasn’t going to force Michelle to talk more but he wanted to know she was somewhere safe. Even if Michelle wasn’t his daughter, she was still a teenage girl with little family probably living on the streets. 

Michelle seemed to hesitate and was about to turn his offer down, but she nodded and Al was relieved as he smiled and gently led her to his car. 

“So you're a cop?” Michelle asked. They’d been driving for about ten minutes at this point. Al was focused on the address Michelle had given him of her cousin's house the place she had apparently been staying since getting out of juvie. It took a minute for Al to realize she was talking to him and when he did he looked over at her and his badge that was in the cup holder she had obviously noticed. 

“Yeah, twenty five years now”. Al replied. 

“How did you and my mom meet?” Michelle asked next and Al felt like he was being interrogated. Or like Hank and Trudy were talking to him. 

“I was undercover”. Al answered honestly as he pulled up at the house. He didn’t know how much details to give Michelle right now. How much did he tell a fifteen year old girl he just met. 

“Do you have other kids?” Michelle said next, not looking that bothered that they were at the house. 

“I do, Lexi, she’s eighteen”. Lexi had just turned eighteen a few weeks ago and graduated highschool in only three months. It was insane to Al and made him feel old. 

Michelle nodded digesting the information and went to ask another question when the front door of the house opened and a man probably in his early twenties, opened the door and looked at his car seemingly spotting Michelle and looked to be waiting for her. Al assumed this was her cousin and judging by the gang tattoos he was covered in, Al assumed he wasn’t the nicest guy around. 

“I should go”. Michelle said as she grabbed her bag and looked at Al. 

“Are you sure? I have an extra room in my apartment”. Al offered but Michelle just shook her head as she opened the car door. 

“I’ll be fine”. Michelle replied and Al nodded as he grabbed the pad of paper and pen he always had with him, and quickly wrote his number and address down. Al handed it to Michelle who stuffed it into his pocket with a grateful look. 

Michelle quickly got out and after she was inside, Al started the drive back home. He was ready to collapse in bed and try to figure out what to do. 

Al wondered what Erin would say about this.