#something something “friends of death”

[ezrazone]

my friend mohamed’s cat, amy, is older than all three of his children! he carried her with him when he and his family were forced to evacuate their home in north gaza due to the brutal colonizing forces and their us-funded death squads ravaging palestine for its land.

here is amy now - she’s been skin and bones since the genocide has prevented mohamed from accessing adequate care for her illness. still, she makes his children smile and he hopes to get treatment for her when they are able to evacuate into egypt. just the same as mohamed plans on finding care for his wife, who is suffering from advanced uterine cancer, mohamed cares a great deal about this little cat.

here’s another picture of amy and of the two birds that mohamed’s family escaped north gaza with. how incredible is it that so many palestinians refuse to abandon their beloved animals, even as the occupation indiscriminately brutalizes and destroys all life?

something beautiful happened! this tiny kitten has joined mohamed’s family in the tent! abdul rahman, sarah, and lynn all love this kitten and hope that they are able to bring it across the border when the rafah crossing opens back up.

despite serious illness, mohamed’s daughter sarah talks constantly about how much she loves these cats and wants to play with them again. mohamed tells me that she loves cats more than she loves her own parents sometimes. i understand her. can you help keep her safe and ensure that she can bring these animals with her to egypt?

donations increased temporarily after the election results were called, then slowed down again as americans seem to retreat back into themselves. please let these people hold your attention this time.

mohamed is #192 on this verification sheet.

if you would like an alternative method for donating, please use this cashapp QR code to send money to mohamed’s fundraising coordinator. we are in constant contact and mohamed confirms to me that 100% of these funds are sent directly to him without delay.

please help me protect this family and their pets.

[sylvianritual]

Personally, I like winter because I get to wear sweaters and jackets without getting overheated.

It also helps that I know I'll end the cold nights with a roof over my head, which is a luxury that many people in Gaza do not have. Maybe the idea of a dangerous winter is something that feels alien to many of us, but for families in Gaza, winter poses a very real risk. Few have a proper shelter and are living in cloth tents, which offer little protection from the cold. Getting proper clothing and food, much less warm food, is an incredible struggle.

My friend Dina @dinamahammed99 is living in this kind of situation every day, with her two very young children. Her son has already gotten a fever, and proper healthcare is hard to find right now. She also wants to be able to buy a better tent to keep her family warmer in the winter, but resources in Gaza are limited and the prices keep rising. If she can't get a proper tent, the winter will be incredibly dangerous and they will be left unprepared. She is asking for your help to save her children from this fate. No child deserves to freeze, or to go hungry or thirsty. If you believe in the rights of all human beings, then please move to help my friend and improve the situation for her children.

$17,515 / $50,000

Dina is verified by association, please see this post. Thank you

[obxanon]

Addressing the OBX drama and the speculations:

Was JJ’s Death planned?

No, Rudy asked to leave the show. It wasn’t something the writers planned. He didn’t want to renew, the writers were rightfully upset and then decided to kill JJ off.

Did the writers/producers create an uncomfortable set?

No, they didn’t. This post is not true. The brothers were never inappropriate.

Was Madison a bully on set?

I’ve seen a post going around of someone saying Madison was a bully, controlling the set, and bluntly treating Rudy and crew members like crap. That is NOT true. 

Was Rudy’s decision sudden?

Yes and No. No as in he let the Pates know ahead of time he didn’t want to continue (some time during the strike, so they had time to change what was already written). Yes, as in they were shocked by it.

Was there on set drama between Rudy and the Pates?

Yes, there was many disagreements/personal problems during s4. Yes, Elaine was involved and so was Lilah Pate. They are civil now.

Why did every ship but Jiara get a still?

The jiara still does exist but idk why it was not released. My source doesn’t know either and I don’t want to spread something not true. Rudy and Madison took pictures just like everybody else did.

Why did the cast chemistry seem off in part 2?

They shot episodes 1-5 first, THEN 10, then 6-9. The cast didn’t know rudy asked to leave until they received the script for episode 10. You can tell there was a drastic change between JJ and Kiara in part 2 because after the cast found out, Madison was upset with Rudy and his decision, so she didn’t put in as much effort into the scenes with him. She was upset because she knew that would mean the near end of obx and her character… in a way.

Was there alternate endings?

Yes, but that was only because they wanted to see if rudy would change his mind. There was even scenes where a funeral was shot (obviously they didn’t air it so I’m assuming they’re saving it for s5). From March-June of 2024, they spent the entire time doing reshoots of some scenes. That is why some things don’t make sense.

Did Rudy and Madison talk on set?

Yes, but not closely or anything. They’re not friends, they just did the scenes they had to do and that was it. All those people saying they’re hiding their friendship from the cameras or whatever… that is not true sorry. The pates can’t force them to act like best friends as long as they were doing their scenes.

Why did Jiara have “less” than everybody else?

It’s true that Jiara scenes were toned down. Part of it was Rudy asking for it. Madison didn’t care as much. Another part was just Rudy and Madison not doing more than what the script asked.

Was Elaine uncomfortable with Jiara scenes?

Yes, and she has been since s2. It got worse during s3 and obviously s4. That was part of the conflict.

What is the Rudy and Madison Drama?

Obviously what happened between them is private. It wasn’t the fans. The fans were more so the catalyst to something that had been brewing. 

It is true that the girlfriends are involved and that they weren’t happy. Madison hurt Rudy, but not by being a bully. It was emotionally. The feeling was then returned on his end and it just got worse from there. It didn’t help when the girlfriends and fans were involved. It is true that it’s not a coincidence this happened when they both got involved with relationships. Most of you have speculated correctly, that is all I will say. I think you know by now what I’m trying to say.

Also when I say fans, I don’t mean the “shipping.” They never cared about that. What I do mean is that all this drama happened when Jiara fans were at their peak. Them wanting to see those characters together put Rudy and Madison in a problematic situation because they knew they couldn’t avoid each other on screen. Instead they just did so off screen.

Should the Writers/ Directors/ Producers stepped in?

Yes, but what I need you guys to understand is that these writers were basically father figures to those actors. They watched them grow their careers, supported them, made them who they are now. It’s hard when you spent so much time with each other and became a genuine family. Even their conflict with Elaine was hard because Jonas knew her family, his wife treated her like a daughter, and lilah treated her like a sister. They had every right to be bitter because from their POV, it’s basically like “hey I trusted you to bring my project to life and now I’m being forced to go in a direction I never wanted to go in.”

What’s going on behind the scenes right now?

A mess. They knew it would be bad but infact it is worse and they know that.

Am I reliable?

Honestly I don’t care if you believe me or not. You didn’t before and I got attacked (literal death threats in my inbox). I’m just a messenger. I’ve given you info before and clearly I didn’t lie about it. It’s up to you to decide.

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain, alcohol, smoking

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 3.2k words

Remus is quiet the next day at practice. Or maybe that’s only in your head. After all, it’s not like he can just shout across the ice at you like he used to at home, not with the rink packed with a dozen other figure skaters practicing before their events today and tomorrow. Maybe it’s only easier for you to imagine he feels as confused and conflicted as you do. 

Evidently you’d been wrong about the feelings between Remus and Sirius. Or if you were right, Remus hasn’t taken notice of it himself yet. But perhaps it’s not your place to assume that you know what he wants. As you learned last night, you don’t even know what you want. 

You didn’t realize how badly you’ve been wanting to kiss Remus until he did it for you. Your mind emptied out and your body reacted like it had been waiting for years, desperate to feel him, to learn all of him, with your mouth and your hands and the press of your nose against his cheek. Your skin became more sensitive than it’s ever been under his touch. You’ve never felt more aware of your body than you are on the ice, but Remus ignited something different in you. The softest press of his hand made you want to bend and mold yourself to his liking. 

Ordinarily, you’d be desperate to tell Sirius. He’s your best friend, your partner, he’s known about every crush you’ve had since you were teenagers. But when you woke up this morning, thought about seeing him and divulging every detail from the night before, something odd and unpleasant curdled in your gut. 

You’ve never had the urge to keep secrets from Sirius before. But this, you find, you don’t want him to know. It makes you feel sick even now, going in and out of turns with him while Remus watches you both from outside the boards. Watching your best friend look at you like everything is normal, with all the trust in the world, and knowing that you’re keeping this from him. 

You feel guilty, though you don’t know why. And you don’t know if it’s for kissing Remus or for letting Remus kiss you. All you know is that suddenly whenever Sirius looks at you, you feel like you’re holding his heart in your hands, and you aren’t certain you can be trusted with it. 

“The American is looking at you,” Sirius says as you finish your routine. 

You glance behind you, catching the eyes of another skater before he looks away. Your face heats. 

“He could’ve been looking at you,” you point out. 

“Babe, there are lots of people here looking at me, but just as many with their eyes on you.” Sirius grins, slipping an arm around your waist. “We can feed the rumors that we’re together if you want to keep them from bothering you,” he says in a low voice, eyes drooping in a show of flirtation, “but don’t pretend you’re not the most gorgeous thing here.” 

Remus’ voice echoes in your head. You’re beautiful. Your heartbeat pounds. Sirius is watching you with an easy familiarity, waiting for you to either give him the go ahead or tell him to back off. The feeling of his hand on your back makes something tighten in your core, even as that strange guilt spreads through the same area like a blight. 

You swallow. “Would you be okay to run the death spiral again?” 

Sirius blinks. “Now? It’s a bit crowded for that.” 

“I think we can manage.” You move away from his arm, taking him by the hand instead. Your eyes meet Remus’ as you skate to a clear part of the rink. Maybe it’s still only your imagination, but you think he looks as distraught as you feel. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus feels like a piece of shit. 

He’s known about Sirius’ feelings for you since forever, but you’d looked at Remus like he was still worthy of admiration and apparently that was all it took to bring him to his knees. It felt like the worst possible betrayal of Sirius, who was finally maybe becoming his friend, and then when Remus had tried to reverse course he’d hurt you, too. 

The way you’d looked at him—surprised, wounded, uncertain. Remus had been too panicked to give you the explanation you deserved. He’d left you like that. And though you acted normal at practice today, he can tell he’s left you confused. 

Weeks of building trust with the both of you—at first unconsciously, but lately with more intention and hope—and Remus has managed to ruin it in the course of a night. You and Sirius deserve better. 

Remus wanted to be your friend—if his actions last night were any indication, part of him has wanted to be more than that—but he’ll have to make it up to you by being your coach. If he can’t do anything else, he still can get you through this competition. He’ll leave it up to you to decide if you want anything to do with him after that. 

And part of being your coach, he reasons, is making sure you get enough sleep the night before competition. He doubts you’ll want to see him again, but still Remus knocks on your door to ensure you’re getting ready for bed at a reasonable hour. His heart squeezes when you answer with your toothbrush in your mouth, those sweet pajamas of yours creased and crinkled from the night before. You’re an angel for making it easy on him, your usual smiley self as you assure Remus you’re going straight to bed and wish him a good night before shutting the door. 

Sirius’ room is only next to yours. The lights are out, which Remus takes as a good sign, but when he knocks there’s no answer. He knocks again. 

“Sirius,” he says into the doorframe. “Just say something if you’re going to sleep.” 

He waits for a groan or a resentful grumble, but there’s no sound. He knocks for a while longer. When Remus finally gets out his phone to call his charge, he listens for buzzing in the room, but he doesn’t hear it. 

Sirius picks up on the third ring. 

It takes Remus a while to find him. Sirius’ instructions were vague and convoluted, partly because he was lost himself and partly because of the way his words were slurring. Eventually Remus locates the other boy on the rooftop of a bar, Sirius’ legs dangling out over the street and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. 

Remus has to negotiate with the bar manager for a handful of minutes before he’s shown the frightening metal ladder that goes up to the roof. When he sits down beside Sirius, the first thing he does is pluck the cigarette from between his lips. 

“Oi!” Sirius turns to him. Remus sets a hand on his chest, a perhaps overcautious measure to ensure he doesn’t lean himself right off the roof. “I thought you were cool about that.” 

“Not the night before comp.” Remus steals the cig for himself, looking at Sirius over the glow of the cherry. “Did they just let you up here?” 

It takes Sirius a second to catch onto what he’s asking about. “Yeah. Why?” 

Remus shakes his head, fighting a grin. “You always get whatever you want, don’t you?” 

Sirius' laugh is short and bitter. “Not quite.” 

He turns away from Remus, and Remus’ heart sinks. For a brief, harrowing moment, he thinks, He knows. 

Sirius says to the empty night air, “Why don’t we see how we place tomorrow, and you can tell me then if I always get what I want.” 

“Oh, I see.” Remus takes another drag, relieved. “So you’ve come up here to have a pity party about things that haven’t happened yet. Have I got that right?” 

Sirius pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Remus snatches it before he can react. The other boy turns around, angry now. “Piss off, Remus.” 

“Wish that I could,” Remus says evenly, stowing the pack in his pocket, “but it’s my job to make sure you perform as well as you can tomorrow. That means working lungs and a clear head.”

Sirius sulks but doesn’t try to grab them back. He only looks out into the black night. 

“Sirius,” says Remus, “if you’re worried about whether you’re going to medal, or what medal you’re going to get, that’s pointless. You can’t control how anyone else performs or how you measure up relative to them. All you can do is give your best to your routine.” 

“Right. Is that how you thought about it as well?” 

“No,” he admits. “But you guys didn’t hire a competitive teenage prick, you hired a coach.” 

Sirius’ mouth kicks up at the corner. “I suppose that is better.” 

“I think so,” Remus agrees. He watches the other boy for a handful of moments, sensing an opening. “You know, when it comes down to it, doing your best might involve doing an actual death spiral.”

Sirius’ expression sours again, but Remus presses on. 

“I know you could do it if you wanted to. You don’t seem to want to, though. I don’t get why. At first I thought you might not trust y/n to keep herself level, but obviously you’d trust her with anything. And she trusts you to keep her there, too, so what’s the issue?” 

For a while, it seems as though Sirius might not reply. The silence is thick and heavy. He continues looking out at nothing, at the stars hidden behind thick clouds, but eventually his lips part on a sigh. 

“She trusts too easily. She shouldn’t be so sure of me.” 

Remus’ brows furrow. Something unexpected about getting to know Sirius has been learning how quickly all his brash confidence can crumble away. It’s almost never when someone else is upset with him; rather, when he’s upset with himself. Remus used to get irritated by the other boy’s bravado, but now he’s just beginning to realize how fragile it truly is. That he never needed to bring Sirius down a peg, because Sirius was almost always already doing it himself. He’s still not quite used to it.

“Let’s get back,” Remus says gently. “It’s cold up here.” 

Sirius doesn’t protest as Remus leads him downstairs, watching carefully as he climbs down the creaky ladder. On the street Sirius nearly walks into a brick wall, and Remus takes his elbow in hand to prevent it. 

“You know,” he says, “y/n was actually just telling me last night that she was worried she was going to let you down.” 

Sirius makes an appalled scoffing sound. “Her? What for?” 

“I don’t know,” Remus half fibs. “But it would probably sound equally ridiculous to her that you’re thinking the same thing about her. And from an outside perspective, it’s always seemed to me like you’re perfectly suited to each other.” 

Sirius makes a low, whiny sound. Remus startles when he pulls out of his grasp. 

“Neither of you get it.” He lists sideways. 

Remus grabs for him, getting an arm securely around Sirius’ waist. He can’t help but think that two weeks ago this sort of behavior from Sirius would have irked him, but now he only feels a bemused sort of tenderness. He doesn’t understand what Sirius is so upset about, but he can tell it’s not nothing. “Explain it,” he coaxes. 

Sirius seems almost relieved to have been pulled back. He lets himself lean into Remus’ side. “I don’t deserve her trust,” he says in a quiet, mumbly voice. “I don’t deserve any of her. I don’t know why good people like her and James and you always find me, but I’m no good at keeping you. I’ll get mean, or selfish, and you’ll see. But I can’t—” His voice thins, and Remus’ grip on him tightens unconsciously. “I can’t risk losing her. I’m going to get her hurt, and she’ll stop trusting me, and I’ll have let her down again. I can’t do it.” 

The pair walks for a while in silence. Remus can feel the shadows of deeper fears swimming underneath the ones Sirius has just divulged to him, but he’s not sure how to respond. Even during Remus’ most spectacular failures of his career, he was at least the only one who got hurt. He was never tied to anyone else, never risked anybody but himself. If he messed up, he suffered the consequences, and that was it. 

Remus holds Sirius against him as he uses his card to enter the Village. The halls are quiet, most athletes and staff having turned in for the night. 

“When I first started working with the two of you,” Remus says lowly, “I didn’t always see why y/n trusted you so much, either. You were a brilliant skater, of course, but you just seemed like such a tosser.” 

That works as intended, getting a puff of laughter out of Sirius. 

“But I knew I had to figure out a way to work with you, and she just seemed to have complete faith in you. So after a while, I just started trusting that she knew what she was doing. She knew you better than I did, of course, so I figured the two of you had an understanding I just couldn’t comprehend. And the longer I worked with you, the more I could see how she was right.

“What I’m trying to say is, it took me a while to trust you, but I came around because I trusted her. You trust her, don’t you?” 

Sirius has been quiet, but at this, he looks up as though in surprise. “Of course, yeah.” 

Remus suppresses a smile. They both fall silent as they pass by your room, eyes catching on the door you’re sleeping behind like there’s a siren’s call coming from within. Remus wonders if it’s for the same reasons. 

After Sirius lets them into his room, Remus continues softly, “So maybe you ought to give it a try. If you can’t trust yourself, trust the faith she has in you. When is she ever wrong?” 

He expects Sirius to smile at that, but he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for joking. His eyes are big and sad as he sits down on his bed, a quiet sort of asking in them. 

“I think she could be wrong about this,” he says in a near whisper. 

Remus’ throat aches with sympathy. He crouches by Sirius’ feet, ignoring the protests of his hip to start taking off the other boy’s shoes. 

“She’s not,” he says. “She’s just smarter than the both of us. You’re loyal, and brave, and kind. She’s always known that, but it took me a while to catch on.”

“I’m not.” Sirius sounds almost desperate. 

Remus doesn’t back down. “You are.” Frustration and tenderness war inside him. He sets his hands on Sirius’ knees, looking him in the eyes. “Why would I lie to you?” 

A look comes over Sirius face, peculiar only in the moment before Remus recognizes it. He’s seen Sirius look that way a thousand times. At you. 

Remus’ heart thumps. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus’ thumb strokes over his thigh, and Sirius’ heart does something abhorrent behind his ribs

“Sirius.” Amber eyes look into his, warm and earnest and unrelenting. “Why would I lie?” 

Sirius began to sober up as soon as Remus called him earlier tonight. He’d started drinking to try and rid himself of that pesky, familiar feeling of derealization that had taken hold, but he’d stopped then. Paid his tab and gone up to the roof, where in the cool air Sirius had the powerful, frightening urge to wait for Remus and tell him everything about himself. Tell him every last terrible thing and see if he flinched. 

Only he hadn’t flinched. He’d taken Sirius home, whatever drunkenness was left lost on the wind during the walk, and taken his shoes off for him, and told him in various words that he was worth something. 

And now Remus is rubbing the sides of his knees. And his hands are gentle and so are his eyes, and his expression says that he believes it, that Sirius is worth something, and Sirus thinks, Fuck it. 

If it goes poorly, he can say tomorrow that he was drunk and doesn’t remember a thing.

Sirius mashes his lips into Remus’. 

A hoarse sound tears from somewhere inside Remus. He pushes against Sirius’ mouth, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pressing him backwards onto the bed. The mattress is hard and the frame creaks under their combined weight, Remus’ hand finding Sirius’ throat and wrapping around it like an embrace. 

Sirius flips them over. Remus lets him, reclining back against the pillow propped along the wall and tugging Sirius closer like someone’s going to rip him away. He tastes like chocolate and cigarettes. A low whine rises in Sirius’ throat. 

Remus’ hands loosen their grip. “Wait.” 

“No,” Sirius pleads. 

“Aren’t you….” Remus pants. He pulls their lips apart but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Sirius’. “I’m confused. I thought you had feelings for y/n.” 

Sirius sucks in a breath. “You know about that?” 

A quiet, nervous chuckle. “Yeah, love. But you’ve just kissed me, so…I suppose I’m wondering what that means.” 

Sirius’ heart trembles. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus’ voice is a balm. He kisses Sirius once, a soft peck. “What do you feel?” 

Sirius opens his eyes and finds Remus watching him. The other boy’s forehead sits a bit higher than his, so Sirius has to tilt his gaze up, feeling cracked open and wretched. 

“I don’t know,” he says again, softer. “Is it bad to want both?” 

There’s a brief pause. Remus’ brow creases slightly. “I don’t think so,” he replies. “But I have to tell you something.” 

Sirius takes his forehead away from Remus’, putting a couple of inches between them. “Go on, then.” 

“Last night, I kissed y/n.” 

Sirius braces himself to hide a reaction, but there’s nowhere to hide from Remus’ perceptive gaze and after a moment, Sirius finds there’s not much reaction to hide anyway. He doesn’t feel upset. The idea of Remus kissing you is…well, it’s not unlike hearing him call you pet names or watching him touch you. Sirius doesn’t wish that Remus hadn’t done it, only that he’d been there as well. He does sort of wish that he’d gotten to kiss both of you first, though. 

“I stopped it as soon as my head caught up to me,” Remus goes on. He seems to be studying Sirius, though Sirius has no clue what he might find. “I felt really awful for doing it when I knew you had feelings for her, but now that you’ve said that, I think I might have feelings for both of you, too.” 

“Brilliant.” Sirius’ heart is hammering, but he does his best to make his voice sound unaffected. “Then what do we do now?” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You stumble out of bed half-awake. You’re not even entirely sure if someone’s knocked on your door or if you’ve dreamed it, but your feet propel you there with urgency nonetheless. You rub your eyes as you open it, mouth stretching with a yawn. 

Sirius and Remus are standing outside, both rumpled but still in their daytime clothes. Their pupils are blown and lips wet and swollen. 

“We were wondering,” says Remus, slightly breathlessly, “if you might have a moment.”

[badgerbaggage]

Look, unfortunately, Santa is actually right.

And I think it's a means of our survival.

We need to entrench ourselves in our communities, fortify our bonds, recruit sympathizers. We start where it's safe, but we start exposing these people to the fact that we're not disposable, that we're not some scapegoat.

So let's reframe "disagreeing yet remaining friends."

You don't need to agree, nor "be friends" with bigoted ideologues to practice what the Santa account is saying.

Treating them as a friend is a performance (as many human social customs are). Be polite and be interested in their personal lives, what matters to them, what they're excited for, what they're afraid of. be known in your community, whether it's as a flashy character that's a staple of the local alternative bar, or as someone who walks their dog around the neighborhood. Find ways to display your artwork somewhere in town. Do favors for people.

You can refuse to engage with the horrible bigotry.

Rejection is a subtle means of advertising "this is intolerable and I will not engage with you if you continue." If somebody brings up something volatile, simply excuse yourself to get some water. You can leave outright, or you can return and try to shift the conversation. It is very difficult to do this when the current climate is about LIFE AND DEATH to us, but it is possible. This is a means of survival. Tread carefully and keep yourself safe. Let people understand you as a being before they know you as an extension of your identity.

On a wider scale, people NEED to be exposed to these larger topics other than through rightwing propaganda.

Experiencing queer people is far better if it's firsthand. "The supreme leader hath given us a new Scapegoat" works because they have completely MONOPOLIZED the narrative of who we are to our communities. They listen to the Heritage Foundation propaganda because that's the only depiction they've seen. Yes, some of this is out of their own ignorance and malice, but you DO have the power to change minds.

People also need to experience WEIRD SHIT that isn't hurting ANYONE.

There are unironically people who hate us just because their entire perception of us is manufactured by third parties. We all have the power to change perceptions in little ways. For example, I dress up like a punk werewolf and walk to a local alternative bar through a park and bustling downtown, even past an ice cream shop. It paints a massive target on me that says "IM WEIRD, LOOK AT ME." It is terrifying and I am incredibly uncomfortable the entire walk, but I'm exposing people to my gender queer ass in the periphery (I have the privilege to do this for many reasons; I'm not exactly living in my old, conservative, shitty hometown. Your mileage may vary). I am become Exposure Therapy.

You don't have to save the world, you just have to save yourself.

Again, we must ENTRENCH ourselves in our communities. We must forge bonds that our communities don't want to sever. Take root and prepare for the storm. Your efforts alone won't save the world, but if we can all just become a valued part of the life of 1 single detractor, that would have drastic effects on the national perspective of our movement.

Isolation is the end-bringer.

Just find one thing to agree with someone on. If they're deplorable, you can just agree that the weather is shitty, but through careful conversation and creative framing, you can easily get a hardcore MAGA fanatic to agree on culture and policy issues. We often want the same things, like freedom and prosperity. Find the NUGGET under the fascist shit and say, "we both want to be safe and with our families. We're not so different afterall."

LEGITIMIZE YOURSELF!!!

[princesssmars]

home sweet home

a vi x reader.

the war between the silco and the firelights has gotten tense, and all you want is a day off to rest. but when an old flame returns from the dead you find the energy to give her a welcome home present she won’t forget.

wc: 4.491

contains : fluff, adoptive brother ekko and firelight reader. mentions of vi's abuse in prison :c smut. dry humping and tribbing yippee.

a/n : idk something about being separated for years and celebrating the reunion with rough and/or desperate sex does it for me bro 💔 started this beforeeee everything and hopefully this gets posted the morning of act ones drop <3 update i love vi but i need to kick her ass yayyy enjoy.

-

for lack of a better word, your day was getting really fucking weird.

you woke up with a weird feeling in your stomach, an ache strong enough to rouse you from your sleep and out of your bed. you chalked it up to hunger, having skipped another meal last night to stay up looking over some of the injured firelight’s and new schematics for tools and weapons.

but once you got a good meal into your stomach, staring up at the giant tree you called your home, you realized the feeling wasn’t from neglecting your appetite. it was that feeing you got when something big was about to happen.

you felt it when the breakthroughs were made on some of the bigger inventions like the hoverboards, when the firelights found this impossible and beautiful grove and made it their home, on that day years ago where your life crumbled around you in the space of a few days.

so it was only up to fate if something bad or good would happen today. and you didn’t feel like waiting to find out.

quickly making your way up the tree, you rapidly do your special knock on ekko’s door, only to be met with silence. you try again and silence still. trying and slightly failing to keep yourself calm, you head back down and start asking others if they’ve seen him, the ache in your stomach growing at some of the awkward and shifty responses you get.

for six years you and ekko have been inseparable. both traumatized by the trials of growing up in the undercity, getting taken in by benzo, and then the sudden and bloody death of your friends, you had no one else to depend on except for each other. it was hard to put it lightly, navigating a rapidly changing undercity and taking care of your little adoptive brother while trying to deal with your own trauma. even as you met others and formed this group you now call family, you made a promise to each other to stick side by side no matter what.

and that included not running off and doing god knows what in the early morning while the other was sleeping.

you’re halfway through pulling on your coat and mask when you hear the sound of the main door opening and a small commotion, running as fast as you can to get down the tree again before a tall figure stops you.

he tries to be funny, throwing out a 'hey hey hey, slow down! your running like there’s a fire-ow!' before he holds a gloved hand to the side of his arm, cradling the spot where you punched him. you get a solid minute of berating and cussing him out before the look on his face tells you he's being serious, conflict clear in his brown eyes.

you have about a million questions running in your head as he leads you to one of the stock rooms, his breath inhaling multiple times to explain before he lets it out in frustration.

“just…promise you won’t freak out, ok?”

you nod before he pushes you inside and closes the door behind you.

you scoff, calling his name and knocking on the hard material for him to let you out. you weren’t in the mood today to entertain his hidden playful nature, most of the time you indulged him but you were too worried at the moment. you’re seconds away from cursing him out again when a soft voice calls out your name from the darkness behind you behind you.

no. it’s not possible. it’s deeper, more rugged then you remember, but you wouldn’t, couldn’t forget that voice. you heard it in your dreams for years, pushing you to keep going for yourself when you felt like giving up, reminding you she was always there by your side when you felt so alone.

you slowly turn your body, unconsciously trying to protect yourself from the possibility of this being a farce when two strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a sturdy torso. at the slightest glimpse of hit pink hair your eyes start to water and your chest is heaving with long building gasps, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and digging your face into her neck.

for years you’d daydream about this moment, what you’d say if you were reunited with the girl who was your best friend and likely the love of your life. you’d imagine the rushed out words and apologies, the shared wails as you assured the other you’d never leave their side again. but this silence just feels so right, makes so much sense for all the emotions you’ve been letting sit in your heart without any kind of resolution or closure.

she pulls away from you slightly and you hope she ignores the subtle whine that leaves your throat as she does. her large, and you mean really large, palms come up to cup your cheek as she stares at your face, blue eyes flitting across your features like she’s trying to commit every piece of you to memory. you don’t mind, you remember how she liked when you let her observe things so she could take in things as much as possible lest they be gone in a second. it just gives you an excuse to stare at her, too.

and gods above are you staring. obviously a large part of you is sentimental and sad as you see how much she’s changed over the years; the longer jagged shapes of her jaw, her nose. your heart pangs seeing the cuts in her brow and lip that you unconsciously bring a finger up to rub at. but it takes an embarrassing amount of strength not to pay attention just to her lips as you feel over the scar, how her bright eyes go wide and unblinking as she stands and lets you do whatever it is you’re doing.

you want to do anything to break the tension and you’re given the opportunity when your eyesight drifts slightly to the right and catches onto the tattoo on her upper cheek.

“did you…tattoo your name on your face?”

you’re still so close you can feel her laugh rather than hear it, her chest pressing into your when she huffs through her nose.

“wanted to make sure the guys in there knew who was kicking their asses without the need for introductions.”

“still punching first yelling insults later?”

“nothing anybody in there didn’t deserve.”

gods does your heart hurt for her. you knew it was likely other people like her were probably in stillwater, disposed of to cover someone’s ass or see as thrash just for where they were born. but you knew despite that she would have faced so much being thrown in there at such a young age that you not anyone else could understand, the way they must have treated her…

even after all these years it’s like she can ready your body language like a book, able to know your fingers stalling in their exploration means your mind is wandering, and given the previous subject matter she knows it can’t be good. her bandaged fingers gently wrap around yours and rub over your knuckles until your attention is back on her.

“hey, stay with me for now. we’ll have time to go over all that stuff later. right now just stay with me, alright?”

like you could ever say no to her.

you figure the best way to make progress until your much needed conversation is yo acquaint her with where your sure she’ll be staying until she gets back on her feet, however she chooses to do so. at first she seems uncomfortable with the idea of staying at the base, like she doesn’t want to intrude on the home you and others had built from the ground up.

“obviously i’ll help with anything you guys ask but are you sure everyone would be alright with me staying here? i kind of punched the shit out of that scar guy.”

“he’ll get over it just like everyone else. you’re a legend here, vi, you’re up on that mural for a reason.”

the whole time you show vi around you feel a warm mess in your chest. you forgot just how nice it was to spend time with her, thinking back on fond memories of the two of you sneaking away when the others were busy to spend time together on the safer and quieter parts of the undercity. your feelings aren’t helped with how close vi insists on being, hand never leaving your grasp as you tug her around and occasionally bumping her shoulder into yours when your mind wanders.

you’re recounting the story of how one of the hoverboards went haywire and crashed into one of the bases walls when a low rumble from the side of you cuts you off, footsteps halting you in place. when you turn to vi she has that same cute embarrassed look she used to have when you were younger, eyes wide and body still like if she didn’t move you wouldn’t acknowledge what just happened.

she knows better than to argue with you as you drag her pliant body somewhere, most likely to get her something to eat after only having some scarfed down jerichos a few hours ago. you bc lead her to some small communal dining area before not so gently guiding her to sit, eyes on her form for a few seconds to make sure she won’t be stubborn and refuse to let you grab some food for her.

and why would she even think of resisting when she can sit here and finally get a few minutes to just relax. ever since cait somehow managed to get her out of prison her body had been on, sheer stubbornness and willpower keeping her going until she found what she was looking for. a part of her knew she wouldn’t stop searching, wouldn’t stop hoping to see you and her sister again.

but as she watches you across the room pick and prod over a meal a vastayan is helping to out on your plate her shoulders unclench and the muscles in her legs ease. nothing felt better than when you’d dote over her. she remembers one time she caught a flu and had to stay inside and distant from everyone, ready to be miserable in solitude until you burst in with vander hot on your heels and insisted you wouldn’t leave her side until she was better, that she’d do the same for you.

which she did have to wind up doing as you caught the sickness from her after only three days. she never once complained.

when you finish her plate you look back to her with a sweet smile and start to walk back over to her. she writhes in her seat a bit under your gaze, suddenly feeling a little too warm when you sit the plate in from of her and tell her to eat up. she tries her best not to scarf this down as well, but when you give her a look that says you know how hungry she she is and won’t mind she can’t help herself.

she spends the rest of the day by your side, never leaving your sight as you introduce her to some of your fellow firelights and some of the younger kids who’d heard stories about her and vander. you can tell it still prods at an unhealed wound to talk about him in past tense, but that she still looks back on those fond memories with happiness. you’re more than happy to join in and help narrate the tale of one of your more adventurous and dangerous trips through the old undercity.

eventually the sun starts to set and the lights of the tree turn from a dazzling green to a soft collection of oranges and yellow, a signal to everyone that it’s time to wind down and end the day. the two of you meet back of with ekko who tells you he had already shown cait to an extra room she could use for the next few days.

“cupcake didn’t put up too much of hassle today, did she? don’t think she’s ever spent this much time past the promenade.”

“she was alright. uptight but i can tell she means well. you can talk to her in the morning, her room is right across from yours.”

you’re paying too much attention to just being in the space of two of your favorite people again that you don’t even notice how vi has turned her head to look at you, silently asking you to ask her for what she hopes you both want. by the time you realize and turn back to ekko he has that dumb little grin on his face that he used to wear all the time he’d catch the two of you getting a little too close for comfort.

“don’t even start, ekko.”

“i didn’t say anything! i’ll catch up with you two tomorrow. try not to be so loud, some of us need a good nights sleep tonight-“

you quickly reach over and swat at the young boys arm as he laughs and hurries away from the two of you, voice carrying as he leaves to head off to sleep.

it’s surreal as you take vi’s hand into yours and start the brisk walk to your personal quarters. you don’t have any expectations about tonight but you can’t lie and say a deep part of yourself isn’t hoping to get more than close with her tonight.

once you reach your bedroom you start shuffling for some clothes for the both of you to wear while she prods and examines all of your things. you watch her for a moment, nearly giving yourself away with a laugh when she nearly breaks the dusty antique snow globe you’d found abandoned on a scrap run.

“it’s crazy, right? how they’ll just abandon things without even thinking about their worth.” you speak offhandedly as you settle yourself on to your bed and start to remove your boots and holsters.

“yeah, no offense but i just. really don’t wanna talk about abandoning things right now.” her tone is malicious enough to make you sit your movements, eyes softening at the broken and tired woman in front of you.

“i’m sorry, i just-“

“no, no, it’s okay. i understand,” you gently reach out your hand to hold hers, locked in that tight fist she does when she’s bottling up her anger. “can you talk to me about it? whatever you want to say, just say it.”

she rolls her shoulder before setting down the globe and sitting on the bed, her tensed back facing you. you gently pass the spare clothes you have for her and watch as she takes them and sets them on her lap.

“every night for the first year i was in there i’d have these nightmares. about what happened. first it was just, replaying what happened on this endless loop. then it was wondering what i could’ve done different, if i could’ve been smarter-“

“vi dont do that,” you crawled over to sit right behind her body placed your hands on her shoulders, gently rubbing them across and down to her forearms. trying to look her in the eye proves useless. “what happened was…tragic, and blaming yourself is pointless. you did what you could, i know you did.”

“how? how could you possibly know?” she finally turns her head to you and the look in her eyes does nothing to help the sick feeling you have building up in your throat and stomach. “i told you to stay with ekko, you weren’t there. how could you not be even a little angry at me, for not being here for powder, for ekko and the firelights, for you?”

you can hear the lump in her throat and see the tears building in her eyes when you bring your hands up to cup her face. a stray tear runs down her face and you brush it away with your thumb.

“i could never be angry at you, vi. not for this. the girl i know always kept fighting for her family, and if she didn’t come back to us it was because she couldn’t. she’d never abandon us, you wouldn’t abandon us.”

she gently nods her head and nuzzles her face into your hands. you give her a minute to calm down, continuing to softly brush her cheeks and her crazy hair out of her eye.

“what is going on with your hair?” you whisper as you struggle to push a strand away and out of her face, giving up once it falls back into place for the tenth time.

her eyebrows scrunch. "what, you dont like it? its cool."

"its covering half of your face, its horrible."

"you'll get used to it." she shakes her head with a small smile before softly resting her hand on your lower waist.

"maybe, but im definitely not going to brush over you tattooing your name on your face. please tell me you didnt make any other rash b ody adjustments in there."

the growing smile on her simultaneously puts butterflies in your stomach and makes you very nervous. its not helped when she turns her back to you again and starts to shrug off her jacket, revealing the previous glimpse of her neck tattoo you'd seen goes further down. way further down.

"wow. that's...wow." you want to bury your head into your hands and leave the room. 'wow just wow?' really smooth. "can i touch?"

"uhhh yeah, no problem."

after she gives her consent your fingertips lightly hover and brush over the interlapping lines of curves inked into her skin. you feel a small thrill seeing the goosebumps rise on her arms when your hands glide down them, taking pride in knowing you can still bring out a physical reaction in her with your touch.

"this is really nice, vi. did you get someone in there to do it for you?"

"nope, did 'em both myself. wasn't exactly the best environment to ask people to have access to your body with a needle for hours at a time."

you hum in response while continuing to observe the tattoo. you can see it goes further down her back and decide to speak without thinking too much about what you're saying.

"can i see the rest of it?"

you're a bit scared at how still she goes, wondering if maybe you crossed a boundary before her hands slowly reach behind her and start to lift the white fabric of her shirt until its full taken off of her body.

you make sure to continue the gentle touches as your hands run down the muscles and planes of her back, continuing to admire the clouds and gears that make up the design. you feel a little pang in your heart when you see the initials of mylo and claggor at the bottom of the tattoo, along with the number of welts and scars on her skin.

"its beautiful, vi." you whisper. her body subtly scooches back on the bed to get closer to your touch. the moment is just shy of overwhelming, which is probably why you leave a small kiss on her shoulder, right where one of the scars starts before trailing down her back a few inches. she lets out a muffled noise and you start to pull away before the strong grip of her palm clasps down on your leg, holding you in place.

you leave more kisses and pecks over the length of her tattoo as your legs start to wrap around her from behind, both of her hands grasping your thighs as she relaxes into the affection. you test the waters when you come back up to her neck, lightly sinking your teeth into her skin.

"oh fuck-" her strained voice hits your ears right before she abruptly pulls out of your arms and tugs you by the arm and leg until your reversed, sitting in her lap with her hands gripping at your hips.

you continue to drag yours up and down her arms, reveling in the fact that you can now see her facial expressions, how her eyes droop and lips part as you slightly scratch at her skin.

you adjust your hips to sit closer to her at the same time she lifts hers up, the friction causing small noises to escape both of your throats. her eyes open up and she stares up at you with those big light blues.

your hand travels up to her hair, running through it as you keep looking at her. "are you sure? i dont wanna push you,"

"you wont, i do. please, just wanna be close to you."

you give in, wrapping your arms around her neck and bringing her into a sweet kiss, reveling in the feel of her arms coming up to grip on your back. its slow and languid as you get used to each other before she adds her tongue to the mix, pulling a moan from your throat as you try to bury yourself even closer into her hold.

you move your focus onto her neck, trailing kisses and bites down and across her throat, as she rocks your bodies together and claws at your back.

"used to dream about this, about you, missed you so much," her voice has a slight rasp to it already that drives you nuts, instantly darting back up to bring her into a messy kiss. she adjusts her knee to rest in between your legs and lifts it up into your core, pulling away to look at you as you moan at the friction.

"jeez, what'd they teach you in there?" you let out a breathy chuckle while you grind down into her knee. your eyes drift close before her gentle kiss to her cheek drags your gaze back to her, unblinking as she watches you come undone for her. her stare along with the hazy smile on her face yanks you to the edge, gasping and moaning as you come in her arms.

you feel almost drunk as you come down from your orgasm, nuzzling into her neck while she presses gentle kisses to your shoulder and the side of your neck. she starts to place your body on the bed before you tug her back on top of you.

"what, aren't you tired?"

"maybe, but not tired enough to stop now. take off your pants."

she grins like she'd just been offered free sweets from a piltovian candy shop for the rest of her life. you try not to giggle as she stumbles off the bed and tugs her pants off before settling her body back on top of yours. she resumes her barrage of kisses and bites into your skin, finally paying some attention to your chest while you bring your hands up to thumb at her nipples, biting your lip at how sensitive she is to the touch.

she wastes no time spreading your legs beneath you and getting your silent agreement before moving her lips to rest over yours, taking a second to drag her fingers through your cunt and stuffing them inside her mouth.

"vi!"

"sorry, was just curious." she leans down to kiss you sweetly before resting her self on you, legs draped over the curves of her arms as she oh so slowly starts to drag herself back and forth over you.

you slightly wish you had done this first as the overstimulation makes it oh so intense for you, the feeling of her hair and clit rubbing over yours nearly sending you into a frenzy. your eyes roll back into your head once she starts to speed up her movements, her soft whines and grunts into your neck only adding to the physical stimulation you're feeling.

your core feels like its on fire when you start to hear the subtle whispers she's letting out into your neck, curses of 'fuck, fuck oh-fuck,' and grunts of your name mix together to create a desperate harmony.

"vi, feels too- oh my god i-"

"i know, baby, i know," she moans, pressing a harsh bite into the underside of your neck. you can feel her smile into it when you involuntarily let out a squeal at the action. "never gonna leave you, pretty. could never leave you, leave this."

you never fancied yourself the possessive type, but the reaction you have to her words definitely proves there's something there as you wrap your hands around her shoulder and squish her down into you again, moaning just a little too loud at the lack of closeness and feeling of her chest rubbing against yours.

you can feel your next orgasm building quick and fast, thighs trembling as you desperately grind your hips into her even harder. you can tell she's close too, hips losing their rhythm as her panting gets even louder. you nudge your face to the side and rub your cheek against hers, thankful she gets the hint to smother both of your noises with an intense kiss.

"fuck, vi, missed you s'much, love this, love you-"

you're grateful that you have some semblance of brain activity left to drag her head down to your neck to bit down as she cums, her groan loud and long as she keeps moving her hips until you cum only a few seconds after she does. you can feel a tear or two escape your eyes, overstimulation so intense you think you see janna for a moment.

both of your chests are rapidly panting as you catch your breaths, dragging your hand through her sweaty hair while she presses gentle kisses over the marks she no doubt left over your chest. now you'll have to wear more layers for a while, but at the moment you cant find it in you to care.

"you have no idea how glad i am that i still have you," you almost dont pick up on the silent whisper she says, muffled by the current kisses. you lazily drag your fingers to lift her up by the chin until she's looking at you, eyes filled with nothing but love and affection.

"you're always gonna have me vi, i promise."

you can tell she has her doubts, you do as well. but she lets herself relax into your hand yet again and wears the tiniest smile while she starts to fall asleep in your embrace.

you gently pull the covers over both of your bodies and follow her into the lull of sleep, falling asleep in vi's arms again for the first time in years.

you have the nicest dreams you've had in years.

[cranberrymoons]

the thing about buck and eddie is that on some level i think they've both always thought that they've already found and lost the great loves of their lives. when in reality both of these women (abby and shannon) were idolized and put on a pedestal until they came to represent something in death/absence that they never actually were in real life.

shannon was an overwhelmed teen mom who felt like she'd been abandoned by her best friend and then in turn abandoned him right back. if she had lived, they would have gotten a divorce, and it would have probably not been a very pleasant one, and there would likely have been a bitter custody agreement which ended with eddie resenting shannon for not fighting for more. abby was a grieving woman in her early forties who was rebounding from a long-term relationship where her fiancé abruptly left her and never gave her a reason beyond the fact that her mother was dying and the time she was devoting to caring for her was getting in the way of their relationship. buck to her was Fun and Silly and the first step on her own journey of self actualization, and she was nowhere near as invested in the relationship as he was.

and maybe buck and eddie both finally realizing separately that these relationships were not the perfect end-all be-all that they've made them out to be in their heads – maybe that is actually the step they both need to realize that like. not everyone has just one Great Love in their life, and people are not symbols of things. they are literally just people – imperfect and messy and on their own paths which sometimes converge with yours, sometimes for a long time and sometimes for a short time and sometimes forever. and what they've both been looking for all this time is something they already have with each other.

[raysrambles]

on the day the election results got announced, one of my friends wasn't at school. she was the friend that I had the most classes with, and I remember as the hours ticked by the painful knowledge that she wasn't sick, not physically, but that she just couldn't bear to be there that day.

i overheard classmates talking. "how are you?" asked one; in a broken voice, another: "I don't know".

"I'm scared," was the most common sentence I heard that day. "i can't live like this," said someone in the hallway; "we've still got each other," said another in what I desperately wanted to believe was hope.

"I prayed last night for the first time since I was five," said a friend of a friend; I looked out the classroom window at the cloudy sky and wondered if there was a god, and if he had heard them.

I watched people break down crying in the middle of class. by the end of the day, several kids had left school early.

"I need to get out of here," I said to my friends at lunch. "we're not going to make it another four years," said one of them grimly. how dystopian, how orwellian was it that a group of seventeen year olds were so casually discussing their escape from the country they had grown up in, the country that had raised them only to throw them to the dirt before they were even able to vote?

after school i drove to another school for a debate tournament. one of the judges who I hadn't seen in a year and with whom I'd only had one or two conversations came up to me and asked "how are you doing?"

"could be better," I admitted, "but I'm surviving." that was a bit of an understatement; there were tears in my eyes even as I spoke.

"I'm here," she told me, this woman who I hardly knew, and I realized that she was asking because she remembered one of our only interactions, a year ago, where I had casually mentioned being trans--

--and her gaze flitted down to my shoes, where back then I had had beads in the colors of the trans flag, beads that weren't there anymore, not because of any change in myself but that of the world around me.

"I'm here," she said again, and we stared at each other for a few seconds. I managed a "thanks", not trusting myself to say anything else.

that night I went onto Instagram. someone I hadn't spoken to since we fell out over a year ago had texted me a simple "I love you and am with you" type of message. all of my friends and even people I hardly knew were posting about the election, and I remembered

back when Biden was elected, the Republicans I saw online reacted with hatred, disgust, doubt for his abilities

but now all I saw from the ones who had lost this battle was fear

when the other side lost, they had the privilege of hatred

now that we've lost, all we can do is fear.

terrified sixteen, seventeen, eighteen year olds, in flurries of messages to long-gone friends and frantic posts. I had never felt more united, and yet I could not relish in our closeness because I knew it was not the closeness of friends but the closeness of soldiers too young for war, huddling close as their imminent death rained down from the sky, searching for some last comfort at the end of their too-short stories.

"I won't pretend this isn't as bad as it is," I typed out, "honestly I'm freaking scared. But we owe it to ourselves not to let this be the end of our beliefs.

"We still know we're right, even if the government doesn't agree. We're still all in this together.

"Love to everyone who's affected by this. I'm right here with you. Stay safe everyone."

I posted the Instagram story, praying to a god I didn't know that the words were true.

the next night when the house and senate election results came in, I cried, and it was not pretty crying, it was a child wracked with sobs in the dark on the floor of their room because they were only seventeen and terrified for their future.

I spent a long time writing that night, something I do to process my thoughts when everything is too much. I will simply offer this passage, which I think speaks for itself.

"Shall I tell them I am afraid because of the election? Shall I tell them that all day I have felt like a child masquerading as a man, scared of the boogeyman as i am scared of the fascist-like creature whose grasp is tightening and whose claws never cease, closing in on lives like a predator its prey? That I am a child scared of insignificance, of a fate I did not choose, of becoming a meaningless name among many, not of democracy falling but of not being the one who felled it?"

So to everyone celebrating the election, I'm glad that you're happy, truly I am. But I ask you to think of me and my friends, still children, most of us not quite old enough to even have our say in this country, as you laugh and rejoice and mock all of us who you defeated.

How many times must we cry, must we fall, must we watch each other die before enough will be enough?

Will it ever be enough?

[khioneee]

tap out.

simon doesn’t expect anyone to tap him out. a ritual where loved ones step forward to release a soldier from duty, creating a chance to reconnect.

based on this.

simon stands in formation, a soldier among countless others, each bound by discipline, each carrying their own story beneath a stoic exterior.

in the unyielding line, he’s silent, gaze fixed forward, while around him, families reunite: sons embraced by tearful mothers, women lifting their children into their arms, couples lost in long-awaited kisses. joy and relief fill the air, carried on quiet laughter and murmured words of love.

but simon is an orphan now.

there’s no one to step forward for him, no one to break his stance. he watches it all, standing alone, feeling like a stranger in this crowd of reunions, this world of connections he never belonged to.

over the years, the military has stripped him down, rebuilt him into something hardened and unbreakable. this new self is his armor, a wall between him and the life he left behind.

the tap-out tradition is a formality he’s only ever heard about, something he’s watched from a distance but never expected for himself.

he stands motionless as soldiers around him are tapped out by loved ones. he watches quietly, feeling a distant sense of satisfaction for them, grateful that they have that in their lives.

maybe soap would tap him out after he’d seen to his own family.

no matter how many times simon tried to keep him at arm’s length, he’d come to accept that soap wasn’t leaving him behind. coerced into the friendship or not, soap was a friend. until soap has been tapped out, there’s no one in simon’s life to come pick him out.

still, simon knew he was alone in ways he couldn’t change. or so he believes.

then he feels it—a subtle shift in the air, hesitant footsteps halting just in front of him, carrying a weight he doesn’t understand. his breath catches, but he doesn’t move. he’s trained to hold his position, but something in him almost falters as he senses a presence just inches away. slowly, he lets his gaze shift, barely, enough to catch a silhouette he thought he’d left behind a lifetime ago.

it’s you.

you. his childhood best friend. the love of his life.

you. the only person he thought of when he escaped his broken home. you. the guilt that wracked him when he ran, unable to say goodbye after the night he barely escaped after being beat nearly to death. you. the only reason he wanted to be alive, and the person he hadn’t been able to look back for.

—you. you. you.

and now here you are, standing before him, eyes wide with hope and uncertainty, tears gathering at the corners like unsaid words held back for too long.

he doesn’t understand, not fully. he thought he’d locked that door, left that part of him sealed away. and yet, here you are, holding everything he thought he’d left behind.

you hesitate, the weight of the years pressing down between you, unsure if you’re allowed to do this. if you can reach out to him after all this time, to be the one who taps him out.

he senses your uncertainty, feels it as if it’s his own, and in that moment, he lets a flicker of vulnerability break through—a slight furrow in his brow, a subtle nod. silent permission.

and you know, in that instant, it’s okay.

with a trembling hand, you reach forward, closing the distance. your hand hovers over his shoulder for a heartbeat, the air between you heavy with everything left unsaid.

then, gently, you tap him out. a simple touch, light and fleeting, yet it breaks something open in both of you.

in an instant, simon moves. his arms come around you, his grip unyielding as he pulls you close, lifting you off the ground. the soldier falls away, and he’s just simon again, holding you as if you’re the only real thing in a world that’s constantly shifting.

his head lowers, his face buried in your shoulder, and he breathes you in, lets the walls he’s held up for years fall away.

‘you’re here,’ he murmurs, voice rough, thick with emotion he can’t hide anymore.

his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, each touch soft, a silent promise. the weight of years and regret presses against him, but he holds you tighter, as if to make up for every moment he was gone.

you feel the warmth of his tears against your shoulder, silent and raw. he pulls you closer still, as if afraid to let go, his voice barely a whisper as he breathes, ‘i’m sorry, lovie. i’m so damn sorry. i’ll never leave you behind again. i promise.’

and in that moment, surrounded by echoes of lives left behind, he’s just simon again, the boy who belonged with you.

. ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ an. i know the tap-out tradition isn’t common in the uk and is usually done at the airforce but oh well.

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

Catalyst

so in my au which i'm totally not using to cope or anything haha, after realizing that curly isn't going to do anything about jimmy, anya confides in swansea and he goes Protective Dad Mode. i'm calling this the "Responsibility AU." ramble below cut.

swansea doesn't immediately go after jimmy with an axe or anything because 1. they're not in a high stress life/death crash situation and 2. anya specifically requests that swansea not enact violence upon jimmy after swansea says, and i quote, "i'm gonna beat his ass." anya just wants to feel safer and more supported on the ship—she doesn't want swansea to get in trouble even if jimmy does deserve to get destroyed by 10000 punches.

what swansea can do is watch out for anya and make sure she's never alone in a room with jimmy. if there's a situation where she has to be alone with jimmy (like the psych evals), she and swansea have a system where she can signal for help. with anya's permission, swansea asks daisuke to help look out for her too (without telling him the details as to why since that's anya's right to share or not). daisuke has already picked up at this point that something is wrong based on how much more hostile swansea's become towards jimmy, and he trusts his boss, so he agrees without much question.

anya, feeling less alone now that she has people watching her back, gains more confidence to stand up to jimmy. which makes him angry because his unwanted advances are being denied and swansea and daisuke keep getting in his way. he just can't understand why he's being treated as the bad guy here (this is because he is a delusional asshole).

meanwhile curly is slowly realizing that he needs to actually do something here because the tension in the crew is palpable and increasing by the day. also swansea is being mighty passive aggressive to him and talking about "responsibility" a lot. curly keeps trying to talk to jimmy about it but the guy just keeps downplaying it and blaming everyone else but himself. and curly is realizing that his friend isn't who he thought he was.

it all comes to a head one day when an angry jimmy tries to confront anya alone and swansea steps in. things get heated, people start yelling. curly show up to see swansea and jimmy on the verge of fighting with anya and daisuke trying to hold them back respectively. curly breaks up the fight. jimmy storms off. curly follows him and finds him trying to get the gun from the case in the cockpit. curly asks him why he's doing this and jimmy claims it's for his own protection because he feels "threatened by swansea." he tells curly to give him the code. curly, the sheer wrongness of the whole situation hitting him, finally calls jimmy out on all his bs. jimmy just laughs in his face, still believing that he's not in the wrong and curly doesn't have the guts to do anything anyway. so the captain fires him on the spot. jimmy snaps and he and curly get into a fight in the cockpit. jimmy is trying to crash the ship and curly is trying to stop him. then the rest of the crew show up and anya knocks jimmy's ass out with the gun case. swansea is so proud.

they throw jimmy in the cryopod so they don't have to worry about him pulling anything else and he can be properly dealt with once the stupid delivery is over. everyone's like, "wow that was a close one—could you imagine how messed up it would be if we ended up in a crash because of jimmy? thank god that didn't happen." curly makes swansea the copilot until they can get a replacement and swansea's like, "goddammit as if i don't already do enough shit around here."

anyway my whole goal here was to get rid of jimmy early so i can have beautiful Found Family shenanigans in space with the rest of the crew. apologies and healing and happy times will happen. no the whole getting laid off thing doesn't happen. no i don't have an explanation for it. sorry for the essay.

[dragon-ascent]

Imagine being able to see people’s elemental aura. If they bear a vision, the energy around them takes the color of the corresponding element. So Pyro users have a burning red-orange energy flickering about them while Dendro wielders are draped in a calm deep green. Only you can see their aura, perhaps just a special (but mostly useless) gift you were born with.

Which is why when you start working for Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and are introduced to Zhongli, you’re freaking out that you can’t tell anyone he’s actually the Geo Archon who is supposed to be dead.

Shimmering golden rays with a glare so intense they may just be exploding stars suspended in sunlight…yes, the aura around him is simply unmistakable. The Dendro Archon’s wavelength was of a similar intensity back when you attended the Sabzeruz festival. The appearance of the Raiden Shogun during Irodori had you beholding a similar feeling.

Zhongli’s every action only confirms it, not that confirmation was ever needed. His knowledge is too vast to be that of a young man, his mannerisms more ethereal than worldly, his gait steadier than stone.

Soon enough, he takes notice of the way you’re always so jittery around him – but he chalks it up to you being a naturally skittish thing. So he tries to alleviate your nerves by talking to you any chance he gets…not that that helps because his every word has you even more on edge.

“So true, bestie!” you blurt out after he’s told you something that’s gone in one ear and out the other. “Speaking of, isn’t it so sad that Rex Lapis is dead?”

Zhongli pauses, eyeing you curiously. “My dear, this is the third time this week you have brought up the topic of the Geo Lord’s death. Has it affected you so? Please take comfort in that He remains in all our hearts, watching over us common folk from the afterlife.”

He’s mocking me, I just know it! you think, your cheeks heating up as you try not to stare at the divine golden aura crackling around him.

One time, as (un)luck may have it, you accidentally bump into him and spill coffee on his beautiful suit. “Oh gods! Forgive me!” you wail, getting onto your knees. This time…this time he’ll certainly show you his godly wrath…maybe skewer you with his spear…or summon a fissure to swallow you…

But Zhongli is chuckling softly, dabbing at the stain with his lovely embroidered handkerchief. “Please do not fret, my friend. This is nothing a wash will not fix.”

You then insist you’ll cover the cost and get it cleaned, to which he eventually accedes. Holy…when he takes it off to reveal his cream-coloured shirt underneath, it’s like his aura gets even more blinding. It takes everything in you not to just throw yourself at his feet and sing his praises.

(How gorgeous he looks as he works the rest of the day with his coat off.)

He warmly invites you over to his place for tea when you come to return his coat, now cleaned; the house is as well-kept as he is. As night falls, the glow around him only strengthens in response. You can’t stop yourself from asking, mid-sip of your well-made tea:

“What’s Rex Lapis doing working a salaried job?”

[seirindono]

What are Sloth Sans/Demon Sans Powers; relationships; what is he like in the other runs???

Ok, let's talk about Demon! Sans!

The embodiment of idleness, he's the predator of many emotions and states linked to this sin, such as apathy, depression and resignation.

We've already talked about his use of illusions (music/ hypnosis) to charm and disarm his victims, dreams being his preferred hunting ground, and one his unique ability (your personnal sleep paralysis demon), but he's just as much as a threat in real life!

His preferred strategy is to lower the enemy's stats (DEF, ATK, HP, etc) so he can finish them off with a single strike or, better yet, let their body slowly die while he lulls their soul into an endless dream.

He gradually deprives them of the desire to attack or defend themselves, amplifying the fatigue (physical and psychological) and sense of powerlessness, of helplessness hidden deep in their souls.

If he's in a playful mood or if his victim has upset him, he takes great pleasure in awakening their traumas by peering into their unconscious and projecting nightmarish hallucinations. Making them super aware of their situation is also effective: they can't defeat him, and even if they could or if he decided to spare them, only death and more pain awaits them at the end of their journey, by the hand of another Lord or bc they're litteraly in hell. However, his habit of granting a “peaceful death” is viewed as merciful compared to the other Lords (or cruel and messed up by others)

A word of advice, however, to intruders venturing into his Snowdin territory: if you stumble upon his collection of ice statues or a suspicious pile of snow, keep walking and don't touch anything.

----

I'll focus on the relationships showed here

Gluttony - His brother. He practically raised him and supports him to this day, going so far as to share the territory where they grew up (Snowdin). Demons tend to avoid such close ties, as it can become a weakness, but the Skeleton brothers are a rare exception, having proven time and again their ruthlessness.

Lust - They don't usually interact but Lust suspects he's hiding something from the other Lords. + there was the time he teleported in his sleep onto the set of Lust (live broadcast), putting everyone in the audience to sleep. He doesn't remember but Mettaton might hold a ti~ny grudge.

Pride - A combination of distrust and disapproval of some of the King's past decisions. He remains loyal to him, but doesn't mind the distance between their respective territories.

Wrath (former) - Lord from the past generation. He was close to them and received a lot of help from both him and their skeleton friend. Both disappeared overnight, their names erased from the archives as Undyne took on the now vacant role. He can't openly look for them bc of the King's order, but he assumes they must have found a way to hide somewhere…

Frisk - The kid that somehow managed to become friend with his brother and is now cosplaying as an imp. He has no interest in directly harming them, only playing tricks on them and witness how far they can make it with that puny soul.

---

Other runs:

This part is still a WIP since I've mostly worked on a "neutral route" so far lol Also, Demons are, well, "bad", so the genocide run requires more reflection

Neutral:

Mischievous and willfully neglectful, he tolerates Frisk and the player on his territory, but doesn't go out of his way to help them since his brother is already helping.

Pacifist:

Still playful and unbothered, but Papyrus has told him all about Frisk's adventures and how they became friends with other Demons. He is curious and may appear at randoms moments in the run to help the player (tell them about a secret passage in Waterfall or come and play an instrument for Lust's show and put the whole audience to sleep).

.Gives Frisk a bone instrument (a very tiny violon) to celebrate their friendship and shares some secrets with them, like the origin of the bells on his and his brother's horns and how hell used to be before the Queen left.

Genocide:

Same as neutral until he kills Frisk for the first time. He'll trigger a blizzard on the next playthrough to block the door leading to HOME, trapping the player in the empty ruins to observe their reaction. If the player manages to find another way out (or force their way out), Sloth will appear to them only as illusions, asking what they are and mocking them for thinking they can defeat what is already dead, nonetheless sans is willing to watch them try.

.Observes and creates illusions along the way to hinder Frisk. He reveals that sinners can't escape hell until they're freed from their sins, and that the player will undoubtedly end up in the hands of Pride, the King and Demon who rules over those with egos as big as the player's (=that's why he and the other Lords are just toying with the player, they don't see them as a real threat and nobody wants to double-cross the King anyway).

.He's not that bothered by the actions of the player, they're demons and it's hell after all. He might even enjoy watching this more than the pacifist run at first....

edit:

Hm.... Actually, maybe I should rename these. Something like : Redemption or Sinner route idk the expectations are different from canon UT, Demons are USED to killing and stuff. Even if one of them die, a new demon reappear. No, the real surprise would be if someone tried to do good for once, wouldn't it?

As I said, it's a WIP

PHEW, there you go. That was a lot, enjoy!

[friendof-blahaj]

Okay, just gonna give my two cents on this real quick. Sharing a comment of "This looks good," or, "I like these regulations," while most likely appreciated, is probably not gonna be super helpful for a public comment period on proposed regulations.

If you want to express support the new regulations that's great, but during this period the agency is typically looking for changes or omissions that need to be made before the regulation goes into effect. For this reason comments like "I don't like the like the rule grrr I like my truck the way it is," also probably aren't gonna concern the agency. Their response would basically be, okay boohoo go cry me a river it goes into effect on X date.

What they're really looking for are arguments for or against specific lines in the new regulations. If I'm not mistaken, by law the agency needs to collect and collate these comments into specific concerns which will then need to be addressed and either accepted or refuted, and if accepted reflect changes on the final version of these regulations.

So ideally, the best thing to do would be to find specific arguments people are making against the regulations, cite those arguments in your own comment, and refute them, and if you have data to back it up then you've already done most of the work refuting the point.

If not that then the next best thing would be to cite a specific line of the regulation that you appreciate the inclusion of. If you have a friend or a loved one who would have avoided death of serious injury if one of these rules was already in effect that's the sort of thing the agency wants to hear about, or if you have data to back it up even better.

And as stated previously a big thing they are looking for is omissions. If you believe there is a bit of wording or a line of text that fits under these new regulations and should be added that's exactly the sort of thing they're looking for, and if you have a personal story or data connected to it that'll be exactly what they're looking for.

I apologize if I came off scolding and for not having specific arguments you can use when commenting on this specific regulation, but seeing this post make the rounds I just wanted to give some advice from my perspective on how to best influence your government agencies and regulators.

Also, as an additional note, big influences like automakers or lobbying groups may have submitted there comments by mail or even published them in an article somewhere to show they're "fighting the good fight," to their customers/supporters. Those would be the most important comments to refute.

Think of this comment section less like a normal one, and more as part of one of those reply chains you see when a bunch of pretentious people start arguing about something unrelated. It's basically a debate floor.

IF YOU LIVE IN THE US AND WOULD RATHER NOT DIE FROM BEING HIT BY A CAR

please submit a comment on the NHTSA proposal to implement pedestrian safety test requirements for cars and trucks!!

It would finally make manufacturers design vehicles that are safer for pedestrians and cyclists, instead of the massive wall-of-steel front ends that are excessively deadly for no reason. Europe already has rules like this, but unless we comment in approval, they're not going to do anything to halt the increasing pedestrian deaths in our country.

And please share, even if you don't live in the US!

[maybefae]

How do others perceive you?

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Tips!

Pile 1

Tarot: Page of Cups, The World (Life on Earth), Queen of Cups, The Hermit (The Cosmic Tree), The Chariot (The Spirit Plane), Page of Wands, The Star (The Veil), Four of Wands, Death (Past Lives), Wheel of Fortune (Life Map)

There is an air of being from the energy of the Earth itself. Not necessarily in a grounded way but in a more light way. People definitely think you have a beautiful smile and you have a laugh that almost sounds like bells ringing. I don’t remember if there’s a scene like that in the Tinker Bell movie or if her voice/laugh sounds like bells, but that’s a message. 

They think you’re really connected to Earth, to the energies that be, and that’s something maybe you don’t even notice about yourself. Since I’ve pulled the cards, I had a feeling of “they don’t even believe it” even when they were telling me all these lovely things. This feeling is something I wish for you to feel, and you can! Especially since it’s your energy. 

There is a feeling of familiarity with you. You flitter in and out of people's lives for brief moments, and if you believe in past lives (since energy is continuously recycled), you probably have met a lot of the people you come in contact with in lives before this one. There’s a safety, like stopping by a fire on a long journey. Strangers may get reminded of loved ones when they meet you. 

They see you as a healer. And this may be something you notice about yourself actually. You may get tired easily because it seems like you have to help people all the time or people ask a lot of you. And I do wish you returned this energy to yourself, even if it’s for a small time in the day. Set boundaries. This could also be a reason why you filter in and out of connections with people. 

I also wanna add that this deck was really excited and wanted to be the first in line. People are probably really excited to see you and talk to you. You may have a really bubbly energy and like being a social butterfly. You may also be the subject of friendship crushes, like people really wanna become friends with you.

Pile 2

WARNING: This pile was more on the “negative” side. If negative readings aren’t for you, I would suggest not reading this one.

Tarot: Three of Wands, King of Wands, Queen of Swords, Two of Wands, Eight of Swords, Five of Swords, The Star, Seven of Cups, The Magician

Before I even pull cards, there is an air of seduction. It’s like I made eye contact with a feline in the wild or a snake just slithered in. A large portion of the deck was in my hands but the other half was stuck in the box and fell onto my desk very noisily. You probably don’t give a lot of tells right away and it takes a lot of time for you to show your other self. The air of mystery is what makes you seductive; people want to figure you out. And, from experience, this could drive you absolutely insane because once they figure you out, they leave.

I’m going to be honest, I think a lot of people perceive you as “bitchy.” It could honestly just be because your stubborn and you know what you want, you go for it, and achieve it. A lot of men see you as a threat just because of your strong personality. In some ways, you could be seen as selfish because you won’t bother looking from someone else’s view. If you are an ex-people pleaser, this could be an absolute compliment. You know your worth and you want to achieve your dreams, people being threatened by it are none of your business.

If you are actively being selfish and not bothering to have empathy, well…I would do some self reflection.

Something about this pile seems so angry? There’s an aggression about this reading. Some people could take you as someone that constantly feel like you have to defend yourself, in an angry way, or you’re someone that has a hard time taking accountability. 

I’m getting Kat from 10 Things I Hate About You, “Planet Look At Me, Look At Me.” Some people think you have to be the center of attention. They acknowledge that you definitely can get whatever you set your mind to, but they might not think you deserve it.

There is an air of being very misunderstood, my loves. For the people that don’t mean to come off this way, I feel like you have probably gone through a lot in the past. You’re defensive due to past hurt. You honestly may not even love yourselves and it comes off as anger to others. I couldn’t move on to Pile 3 because I kept over thinking. You may feel really bad with how you react…There’s heartache. I wanted to come back since I felt the need to hug you all. For readers (and you don’t even have to like this series or author), but you give me Nesta vibes (iykyk).  

Pile 3

Tarot: The World, Three of Swords, Five of Cups, Seven of Swords, Page of Swords, The Hermit, Knight of Pentacles, King of Cups, The Star, Ten of Cups

Ah, this is my melancholic pile. People see you guys as troubled, wounded from your past. You are well loved! But I think you have a hard time accepting it or you don’t see it. There is a feeling of always having to fight, sword raised, but you are very tired from battle. I’m getting the image of a knight falling to their knees after a battle is over, some with their heads looking up at the cloudy sky and others with their heads lowered. 

There had been a painful heartbreak where you went into hermit mode. You turned into yourself so you don’t get hurt again. It’s not that you aren’t friendly! But you certainly keep everyone at arms length. You’re constantly looking at the past, at the empty cups, at what you don’t have anymore…I don’t even think you’d even see new and beautiful things and people that will come into your life. You could, unfortunately, have had things pass by you without realizing. 

You are ones to focus on the material world. I don’t necessarily see back-breaking work, but enough to get by. You’re numb and can only exert as much energy as you can. You don’t have any battles with others, more of the battles come from yourself. You beat yourself up. But you don’t realize the potential you have.

There is an older man here. A wise man. This could be someone in your life or someone who has passed…he watched over you. He has so much love for you and it pains him to see the turmoil you cause yourself. He wishes to share the burden with you. He wants you to talk to him and seek his comfort. And honestly, he could offer you very good guidance/advice. 

Decks Used: Ophida Rosa Tarot by Leila and Olive, Ethereal Visions Illuminated Tarot Deck by Matt Hughes, White Numen Tarot: A Sacred Animal Tarot Deck by AlbaBG

Dividers: @inklore

[stargirllanaa]

Death Grips - R.C

Dark!Frat!Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Warnings: Dv( physical abuse),NONCON, Mentions of Dv, Cheating, mentions of cheating, abusive relationship, gaslighting, manipulation, frat!rafe, blackmail, emotional abuse, underage drinking, he’s an asshole guys

Summary: inspired by ‘death grips’ by Etta Marcus/ After a messy break up with Rafe Cameron your freshman year of college, he can’t seem to leave you alone. Whether you’re awake or asleep

A/n: hey guys I haven’t wrote in so long but I had this idea in my head for so longgg, hope you enjoy cause this is a series!!<3

Part: I

……

It had been four months since you broke up with him, yet he still haunted every aspect of your life through your dreams. You were beyond tired of waking every morning with a pounding heart and a bed drenched in cold sweat from memories plaguing your mind. You always thought the most challenging part of a breakup would be the actual breakup, but it wasn't; no matter how hard you tried, you knew you would never forget the heartache Rafe put you through, and you had come to peace with that, what you weren't prepared for was his looming presence in your life even though he wasn't even physically present, that was the hardest part.

“You all packed up?” your mom asked, snapping you out of thought as she peeked through the crack of your door, only her eyes showing.

You had been so lost in thought that you had almost forgotten you were supposed to be finished packing up for school by now.

“Yeah...” you nodded as you quickly bagged up some remaining things that had sat on your bed.

“Well, almost,” you chuckled as your mom entered your room,folding up clothes to help you finish.

“Listen,” she said softly, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. “I know you're really stressed about going back. "

You sighed as she spoke. Part of you felt guilty for the way things went last semester. You always tried not to blame yourself, but you couldn't help but feel like you put yourself in the situation, so it was your fault.

“But this year is going to be better, okay?” You simply nodded in response as she brought you in for a hug. “Freshman years like a trial run.” she giggled warmly.

You had never been in a serious relationship before Rafe. The two of you had started dating at the beginning of your freshman year.bYou met him in your psych class, which you had been failing horribly. It's not like you were stupid. You could easily understand the material if you tried, but you were lazy and didn't feel like it. You had to guess Rafe was failing too, because when your professor partnered the two of you up for your big midterm, which was 30 percent of your grade, you got 72 percent.

Although getting 72 percent wasn't exactly a grade to be proud of, it was enough to pass, and it seemed like a victory at the time. Rafe had this way of making even the most minor victories feel significant, and it was then that you started to see him in a different light. After the project, you both started spending more time together, studying, hanging out, and gradually, what began as a partnership for class grew into something more.

Your relationship with Rafe had always been complicated, to say the least. He was a junior, part of a frat, and you were just a freshman with like two friends, and everyone knew Rafe. So when you started dating it was cool that everyone started to know you.

Rafe was the worst, something you only fully recognized in hindsight. At first, his attentiveness felt like care, and it was easy for you to fall into his traps because you had never been with anyone else. but it quickly morphed into control. He picked who you could hang out with, what you could wear, and even how you spent your free time. You knew you didn’t like that but it was your norm.

Arguments between the two of you were frequent and intense, His yelling at you to “get away from him” turned into full-fledged pushes across the room. What started as him grabbing your wrist a little roughly turned into him using that exact grip to drag you across the cold floor as you kicked your feet, trying to get away. It was a classic case of an abusive relationship. Ignoring the red flags till they hit you in the face. Literally. The breaking point was when you caught him cheating on you mid-fuck.

It was devastating, not just because of the betrayal, but because it forced you to confront the reality of your relationship with Rafe. The breakup that followed was messy and painful, with Rafe oscillating between begging for forgiveness and blaming you for his actions. Not only were you heartbroken, but the stress of your relationship caused you to fail most of your classes, forcing you to have to retake them the whole summer.

So yeah, you were stressed to go back to school, not even stressed; you were terrified; after you and Rafe broke up at the end of last semester, you didn't leave your dorm for anything other than class, so you really didn't have to see him or interact with him. This year, you couldn't do that; the self-isolation would only worsen things and make you more depressed; you wanted to have experiences, go to parties, and hang out with your friends. The only thing was Rafe was a horrible boyfriend, so he had to be an even worse ex. Even though you wished and hoped that the two of you could just ignore each other and stay cordial, you knew Rafe better than that.

-----------

You sat in your dorm, headphones on, blasting music as you focused on finishing your English paper. Looking up, you glanced at your roommate Mia, waving you down and clearly trying her best to get your attention. Slightly giggling at her efforts, you paused your music, sliding the headphones off your ears.

“Oh my god, finally!” she mocked, sighing before sitting on the foot of her bed with a playful smirk.

“I've been trying to get your attention for 20 minutes!” the curly-haired girl exaggerated as she threw her head back.

“Oh, please! I haven't even been working on this for 20 minutes!” you bantered back, throwing your pillows at her.

“Yeah, right, like I believe that. Everybody knows that all you do is work all day.” Mia giggles playfully, throwing the pillow back at you.

She wasn't wrong. You had told yourself that this semester would be different; you would go out, make friends, and party, yet you were still glued to your dorm a month into it. You tried to push yourself; you really did, but the constant dreams about Rafe didn't help you feel better about potentially running into him.

“That's not true..” you awkwardly laugh as you nervously scratch your neck.

“Yes, it is,” the brunette slowly says, looking around as if missing something.

“No, it's-” you try to get out before being cut off.

“Then prove it.” Mia cuts you off, standing off her bed to walk over to you. “Zeta’s throwing tonight, and I don't wanna go alone.”

When Mia mentioned Zeta,Aka Rafes frat, your heart sank, but you tried to stay calm. The last thing you wanted was to end up at a party where he would almost certainly be, but Mia had no idea how bad things had gotten between you. She knew you and Rafe ended on bad terms, but she didn’t know the full extent of what you’d been through.

"Zeta?" you repeated, trying to mask your anxiety. "Why do you want to go there?"

Mia gave you a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Because Topper's been trying to get with me for weeks now, and he invited me tonight.”

Your stomach churned at the mention of Topper. He and Rafe were close, practically best friends, which meant Rafe would definitely be at the party. The idea of seeing him again, especially in a place that held so many bad memories, made you feel sick. But Mia had no idea how deep your anxiety ran, and to her, this was just about a fun night out and a cute guy.

"Mia, you know Rafe’s going to be there," you said carefully. "I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for that."

Mia’s face softened, and she shifted, leaning forward. "I know things didn’t end well, but you can’t let him keep you from living your life, right? You deserve to have fun, meet new people, and not let some jerk control how you feel."

You bit your lip, staring at the floor. She was right, in a way. You couldn’t hide forever. But the thought of being in the same room as Rafe, of possibly having to interact with him, made your chest tighten with fear. Mia had no idea just how bad things had been between the two of you. To her, Rafe was just a messy breakup, not a nightmare that still haunted your every step.

"I know, it’s just…" you trailed off, unsure of how to explain the weight of it all without giving too much away.

"Look, if it gets weird or if you feel uncomfortable, we’ll leave. I promise. But maybe this is your chance to show him that you’ve moved on, that he doesn’t have power over you anymore."

Her words hit you, and for a moment, you considered it. Maybe going to the party was a chance to reclaim something, to face Rafe without fear, and show him—and yourself—that he no longer had a hold on you. But a part of you still hesitated, the fear gnawing at your resolve.

"Okay," you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll go. But if things get too much, we leave, no questions asked."

Mia’s face lit up, and she pulled you into a hug. "Yes! Don’t worry, we’ll have fun. We’ll stick together, and it’ll be fine. I promise.”

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach as Mia rushed over to her closet to pick out outfits. You hoped she was right, that tonight could be a fresh start, but deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that being so close to Rafe again would stir up things you weren’t ready to confront.

--------------

The bass from the music thudded through the ground as you and Mia walked up to the Zeta house. Even from outside, you could hear the chaotic hum of voices and laughter mixed with the pounding beat of whatever random early 2000s white boy song was blasting through the speakers. Your nerves tightened with every step, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

Mia seemed unfazed, practically glowing with excitement. She gave you a quick, encouraging smile as she adjusted her skirt. “Okay, we’re just going to have fun, remember? Topper’s probably already inside, and we don’t have to stay long if it gets too crazy.”

You nodded, though your heart was racing faster than you’d like to admit.

The front door was wide open, people streaming in and out like they were at some exclusive club. Mia grabbed your hand, pulling you inside with a grin.

The moment you stepped through the door, the atmosphere swallowed you. The smell of beer and sweat mixed with the sharp scent of alcohol. The dim blue lights illuminated the crowd of bodies packed together. It was overwhelming, and for a second, you considered turning around and leaving before anyone noticed you were there.

You thought you pregamed good, but apparently not good enough. The minute you looked around, you felt too sober to be there. Mia was already scanning the room, probably looking for Topper, as you tried your hardest not to scan the room and end up making any unnecessary eye contact with you-know-who.

“Oh, he's right there,” Mia yells over the loud music, reaching for your hand.

You tried your best to down the alcohol from the water bottle you and Mia had brought, the bitter taste burning your throat as she pulled you toward Topper. You knew the only way you'd make it through the night was if you drunk enough. Topper knew you, and you knew him—and you were almost sure he’d mention your presence to Rafe if he hadn’t already. This whole situation felt like a setup, a trap you’d willingly walked into.

When you finally reached Topper, you stood awkwardly behind Mia as she and Topper made small talk. You tried your hardest not to look at him; even though he wasn't Rafe, he was still a huge reminder of him, but every time you found yourself accidentally looking at him, he was already looking at you. You found it very strange, even looking at Mia a few times to see if she noticed. It sent a shiver down your spine; you already felt anxious about being here, but how he looked at you made it seem like he knew something you didn't.

Not long after Mia had been chatting with Topper, she turned toward you drunkenly with a big, mischievous smirk.

"Hey," she slurred slightly, leaning in close to you as if sharing a secret. “Topper wants to show me his room upstairs. You cool waiting for me here?" Her voice was filled with a mix of giddiness and anticipation.

Your stomach dropped a little, but you forced a smile, trying not to let your anxiety show. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone in a place like this, especially with the looming threat of Rafe showing up at any moment. But Mia was your friend, and she deserved to have fun.

“Yeah, sure,” you said, your voice sounding steadier than you felt. “I’ll just hang out on the couch or something.”

Mia’s grin widened, and she gave you a quick, sloppy hug. “You’re the best! I won’t be long, I swear.”

Before you could respond, she grabbed Topper’s hand and dragged him toward the stairs. You watched them disappear into the crowd, your pulse quickening as you realized you were alone in a house full of people you didn’t want to see.

You looked around, searching for a spot to sit. The couch in the corner seemed the safest option, so you headed that way, trying to ignore the unease creeping up your spine. Sitting down, you took another swig from your water bottle, hoping the alcohol would kick in soon and numb the nerves threatening to take over.

And it did; about 20 minutes later, you felt on top of the world. You had made it off your spot on the couch, made a whole new group of friends for the night, and started dancing like no one was watching, but someone was, and you started to feel it. The party's energy had begun to lift your spirits, and you felt freer than you had in a long time.

But then, in a split second, that sense of freedom evaporated.

It was as if you could sense him before you even saw him. That familiar tension gripped you as your eyes instinctively scanned the room, and there he was—Rafe, leaning casually against the far wall. His eyes were already on you, a predatory gleam in them, and your heart sank. You wanted to leave immediately. You looked down at your phone, immediately texting Mia that the two of you had to go. Your new friends even looked at you, concerned at the change in your demeanor, asking you what was wrong, and in your drunken state, you told them.

“My fucking ex is here, and he's staring at me!” you stressed to the group of girls over the blaring music.

“Girl, that's amazing! This is your chance to make him jealous!” one of the girls slurs with a glowing smile as she takes your hand. her comment earning nods and smiles of agreement from the rest of the group.

“No, you don't get it. He’s like crazy!” you whined as you looked down at your phone, waiting for a response from Mia. “and my roommate hooking up with his best friend.”

Sure, if Rafe was a regular ex, you would see him at a party and maybe be happy for a petty chance of revenge, but he wasn't a regular ex. You didn't even wanna interact with him yet intentionally piss him off, but you obviously couldn't just leave your friend, so you had to just try your best to ignore him, and you tried, but he made it pretty fucking hard.

He wasn’t alone. Surrounded by his friends, Rafe looked every bit the confident, cocky guy you had once fallen for, except now, that same confidence felt menacing. The smile tugging at his lips was more of a smirk that sent a chill down your spine.

He knew you had noticed him.

And as soon as he caught your eye, he kicked his act into high gear.

Rafe started laughing louder, nudging the guys around him like he was the life of the party. Every gesture felt exaggerated, every movement too calculated. He wanted to make sure you saw him and felt his presence as much as possible.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at that. It was sad that he was acting like this. I mean, how immature was he. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much seeing him affected you, so you turned away, trying to refocus on dancing and getting back into the moment. But it was too late. The room felt smaller and more claustrophobic, and no matter how much you tried to immerse yourself in the music again, you could still feel his eyes on you.

And unable to resist, you glanced back.

Rafe had taken it a step further now. One of the girls nearby had found her way beside him, blonde, tall, and obviously intoxicated. She pressed herself against him, laughing as she draped her arms around his neck. Rafe barely acknowledged her, his attention still fixed on you. It was deliberate.

Your stomach churned.

And then, as if to solidify his little performance, Rafe pulled the girl closer, gripping her waist. The girl giggled, clearly enjoying the attention, oblivious that she was being used as a pawn in Rafe’s sick game.

You tried to look away, but the weight of his gaze held you in place.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and kissed her—slow, deliberate, and intense. His hands roamed her body as she melted into the kiss, all while Rafe's piercing eyes remained locked on yours.

It felt like a punch to the gut. The room seemed to spin, and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe. He was doing it on purpose. Every touch, every movement, every second of that kiss was for you, to hurt you, to remind you of the control he used to have and still has over you.

And it was working.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Your heavy eye contact with Rafe was broken as you turned around to face Mia with teary eyes. You didn't say anything, but she clearly saw what was upsetting you from a mile away.

“Oh my god, he's fucking disgusting.” she gasped, looking directly at Rafe with disgust painting her face. “Let's go right now.”

On the walk back to your dorm, Mia went on and on about how what he did should confirm the breakup was the right choice and how he just did it to try and make you jealous, and you knew that. You didn't need her to tell you, but that didn't make you feel better. He had caused you enough pain, so much pain, so why was he still going? When would it be enough?

“How was Topper?” you questioned curiously, honestly hoping selfishly that he did something that would make her never wanna see him again.

“Horrible.” she cringed, mock gagging, waiting for your reaction.

Really?” you chuckled, trying not to beam from ear to ear.

“No, the dick was average, but he's hot,” she giggled, looking up as she reminisced on the hook-up. “But why were you so happy?” she full-on laughed, crossing her arms over her chest

--------------

“Have you seen Rafe?” you asked around the party, looking around every corner for signs of your boyfriend.

You were supposed to go back home for the weekend for a doctor's appointment, but your doctor actually canceled the appointment, so you stayed on campus instead. You had tried to call Rafe multiple times to let him know you were still at school, but he hadn't answered. You believed it was because the two of you had gotten into a fight that morning, and Rafe was known to give the silent treatment, so you thought you might as well just find him yourself if he wanted to play that game.

You navigated through the crowds of people, your heart racing as you called out to a few acquaintances, hoping one of them had seen Rafe. He had been so distant lately, and the tension between you from earlier that morning hung like a thick fog.

“Have you seen Rafe?” you asked one of his friends, who shrugged and waved you off, lost in a conversation. You sighed, the knot in your stomach tightening. The last thing you wanted was to spend the night worrying about where he was, especially after you fought.

“Maybe he’s in the back,” another friend suggested, nodding toward a dimly lit hallway. You nodded, grateful for any lead, and made your way in that direction, your pulse quickening with every step.

As you reached the end of the hall, the music faded slightly, replaced by the muffled sound of voices. The door was somewhat cracked. You could hear muffled moaning, grunting, and clapping. You gasped, hand clamping over your mouth hard. You didn't wanna believe it, you couldn't, but there was only one way to know. Hesitating momentarily, you leaned in closer, peeking through the small crack of the door. Your heart sank as you recognized Rafe’s frame as he fucked some blonde bitch from the back, and if seeing what could be his frame didn't confirm it was him, the “fuck Rafe that feels so good.” did.

You felt as if the world around you had come to a standstill. You knew your relationship with Rafe was far from healthy. Anyone could see that, but you never expected him to do it. To betray you in such a hurtful way. Your mind started to race. Had he cheated before? Was it the whole time? Did everyone know but you? How could someone treat you like shit every single day yet be the one to cheat on you? It wasn't fair, and to be honest, you felt embarrassed.

You turned and rushed away from the door, tears welling in your eyes and blurring your vision. You needed to escape this suffocating atmosphere. As you moved back into the main party area, you tried to shake off the weight of what you had just witnessed, but it clung to you like a heavy blanket.

You stumbled into a group of your friends, busy dancing and laughing, oblivious to your turmoil. One of them, noticing your teary face, hugged you. “Hey, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. But deep down, you were anything but fine. You felt hollow, betrayed by someone you trusted more than anyone else.

As you moved to the crowd's edge, hoping to catch your breath, you couldn’t shake the image of Rafe with that girl. How could he do this to you?

You grabbed your phone, fingers trembling as you dialed his number, your heart racing at the thought of confronting him. But it went straight to voicemail.

------

“y/n!” You woke up to Mia shaking you awake, your heart beating out of your chest, and your sheets dripping in sweat. “God, are you ok?” she chuckled with a worried undertone.

“Y-yeah... Yeah, I'm fine.” You yawned, looking at your roommate with a mixture of confusion and anxiety. That was the third time you had that dream since the party. You didn't realize how much seeing Rafe kiss that girl really affected you until you went to sleep the next day.

“Well, it's 9:30; breakfast closes in 30 minutes,” Mia informed you, staring at you, waiting for a response or some form of movement to show your getting up. “That means let's go.”

Every time you had a nightmare, it made you lose your appetite the following day, reminding you of how you felt during that time. In fact, it made you lose the urge to do anything, and the nightmares did come more often than not. So when you made your way to the dining hall, you only planned to get a small bowl of cereal and maybe some fruit.

You and Mia sat down next to each other, opting to eat there. You had faced your fear of going to the dining hall multiple times, never seeing Rafe there, and everything went smoothly until it didn't.

“Oh my god, Toppers here.” Mia gasped, eyes sparkling with excitement as she made eye contact with him and waved.

You looked up, confused as to why he was even at the dining hall when you knew his frat had better food than the campus could ever provide, let alone why he was there ten minutes left before it closed, but it clicked when you saw Rafe right behind him with an empty plate in hand. Part of you felt like they were there to antagonize you, but at the same time, you felt that thought was semi-narcassistic because why would they go through all the effort. But it was Rafe, and this was all a game to him; it was fun to him.

As Topper approached, Rafe lingered just a bit behind, his blue eyes scanning the room with that familiar cocky smirk plastered across his face.

“Hey, ladies,” Topper said, his tone light and teasing. He leaned against the table, completely at ease.

“Hey, Top.” Mia chirped, seemingly oblivious to the tension hanging in the air.

Rafe finally stepped forward, his casual demeanor masking the intensity beneath.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, shooting you a sideways glance.

You hesitated but finally nodded, wanting to keep the peace for Mia’s sake. “Yeah, sure.”

He slid into the seat beside you, and for a moment, the conversation flowed easily. Rafe leaned back, looking relaxed as he chatted with Mia and Topper. You tried to focus on your cereal, but his presence loomed over you, reminding you of everything you wanted to forget.

“So, what’s everyone up to later?” Rafe asked, his gaze flickering between you and Mia. “Got any fun plans? Or is it just another boring day in paradise?”

You rolled your eyes slightly, hoping to brush off the comment. “Just studying,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light.

“Like always?” Rafe smirked, leaning closer, his tone teasing but laced with something sharper. “You know, I thought you’d be over us by now. Seems like you still care way too much.”

The comment hit you like a punch in the gut, and honestly, it was weird to you that he even noticed you'd been glued to your dorm. It just showed you that he was still hung up on you. Your heart raced, anger bubbling to the surface. “Wow, really? You think it’s about you?” you snapped, the words slipping out before you could think twice.

Rafe shrugged that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “I mean, it’s not like I’m the one who’s still depressed about it,” he replied, his tone smooth dripping with amusement at the fact he was getting to you.

“Unbelievable,” you said, standing up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor before You gathered your breakfast—cereal, fruit, and all—and headed toward the trash. You tossed it all into the bin. “Enjoy your breakfast,” you called over your shoulder, the disbelief mixed with fury driving you forward as you stormed out.

-----------------------------

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[ilovemosss]

YOU GET IT!!!! my tags were def looking more at like. specifically the much more surface level physical aspects of each character but yes. wade IS body horror from the perspective of his regenerative healing and functional immortality. that rapid healing and ability to regrow from everything absolutely is horrifying when viewed from that perspective. the idea of being able to regrow entire limbs, to come back from being just a head, and if you follow some lines of comic lore, wade wilson can regenerate from a single cell, whatever part of him his soul clings to. and that's the most interesting part, to me. the fact that he can regenerate that way in part because his soul can never untether itself from his body sweetens that horror pot. elevates it to something eldritch and Wrong. he can't ever die because his soul clings on, defying death, defying the laws of life and nature. i imagine that after a while, the average human can practically smell it, the sheer unnaturalness of his existence, and the same with logan. the pair of them together giving off this faint aura of Wrongess that nobody who doesn't know the truth can quite place. even their friends sometimes feel a cold shiver run up their spines if they look for too long. these are two beings that will outlive us all, whose bodies stubbornly refuse to be parted from their souls, and whose souls refuse to be parted from each other. combine that with the unnatural sharpness to logan's canines, and animalistic way he sometimes behaves. the way wade sometimes looks at the people he loves like he's already seen their corpses (and in vanessa's case, he has). that haunted look clings to people's minds, refuses to release them from its grip. wade and logan are terrifying, but not perhaps for the reasons people think. at first glance, perhaps wade's scars are offputting. maybe it's true that when he aims it at you, logan's glare is enough to make a grown man whimper and slink away. you're sure you imagined that predatory growl, except...did you? but the true horror lies marrow deep within them both. crouching in wait for the next time you stare deep into their eyes, and feel- just for a moment- the heavy weight of all their lifetimes settling on top of your lungs, suffocating.

Scars? Not body horror. Limb differences? Not body horror. Facial differences? Not body horror. Feeding tubes, colostomy bags, etc? Not body horror. Movement disorders? Not body horror. Visibly disabled people just existing is not horror.