#you know i can usually tell if something is off or whatever

[starkeysbunny]

tears [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x reader

summary - rafe was a busy man. but, when his girl knocked on the doors of tannyhill with tears streaming down her cheeks—nothing was more important than her. and he’d fix whatever was bothering her. or whoever. he hated to see his girl cry.

warnings - none rlly, hurt/comfort, protective and attentive rafe

rafe sighed into his phone call when he heard a knock on the door. he stood in his father’s office—which was now his—pacing the room.

“hey, hey man, just hang on a sec, sorry.” he muttered to the potential investor before he put him on hold. he set his phone down on the desk and marched out of the office, curses and mumbles leaving his lips.

“somebody always fuckin’ needs something.” his hand rubs over his buzzed hair as his other hand curls in and out of a fist at his side. “goddamn. probably fuckin’ sarah and her stupid—“

his mumbles come to a halt when he opens the door and sees his girl standing there, tears staining her flushed cheeks. “rafe..” she whispers weakly, her frame shaking as she looks up at him.

“hey, hey, baby.” he says quickly, completely forgetting the phone call waiting for him as all his attention, worry, and concern is shifted to her. “what’s wrong, c’mere.”

his hand reaches for her wrist, pulling her into his chest. she lets out a quiet sob as she buries her face into his chest, stepping inside. he haphazardly pushes the door shut as he keeps her close to his chest and walks them both inside and through the foyer.

he whispers shh’s, and coos at her in his arms as he heads for the living room, sitting them both down. he softly pulls her from his chest, his head dipping down to her level. his hands come to her cheeks, wiping the tears off her soft skin.

“hey, baby, what happened? talk to me.” he says, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“i-i-“ she stammers, unable to get words out as she chokes on cries. her breathing quickens, getting close to hyperventilating. when she cries, she goes too fast, losing control of her breathing.

“hey, hey, no. don’t do that. c’mon baby, you know better. breathe, baby, breathe.”

she begins to slow down, her breathing coming back to normal. she keeps her eyes on rafe’s, slowly calming down.

“there ya go. atta’ girl. good job. breathe.” he praises, his head nodding softly as he watches her. once her breathing fully calms, she takes one last deep breath and wipes the last of her tears.

“now, gonna tell me what’s got your pretty little head so worried, hm?” he coos, his head tilting slightly. “what’s bothering you? who do i have to kill, huh?” he jokes with a grin. but to be honest—he probably wasn’t joking.

she sniffles, her eyebrows furrowing. “my uterus.” she whines. “i’m on my period. my cramps hurt like a bitch. and my mom is pissing me off.” she sniffles, stumbling over her words slightly. “and i’m hungry. and you weren’t answering, i know you’re busy. but i just really needed to see you, i’m sorry—“

“hey, hey, it’s okay.” he nods softly. “i’m here, it’s alright. i’m not busy, doesn’t matter.” he says matter-of-factly. he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “what do you need? hm? i have that heating pad in my room i bought for you a couple months ago.” he whispers sweetly. “i can make you somethin? buy you stuff? i dunno, what do you need?”

he was willing to do anything, he didn’t care. when his baby cried, he’d move mountains to make her feel better. he’d go to every store in town, run up his credit card, do anything. as long as she got a smile on her face at the end of it.

she nods against his chest, looking up at him. “yeah.. the heating pad. and—and can you make me a grilled cheese? you make em’ so good.” she asks sweetly, her voice gentle and weak.

he smiles softly, looking down at the sweet girl in his arms. “yeah, baby, of course. i don’t know if they’re that good. everytime i make them, you’re usually drunk and it’s three in the morning. that might be why they taste so good.” he jokes.

she shoves his chest playfully. “i don’t care, you can’t fuck up a grilled cheese. please?”

he grins. “yeah, yeah. grilled cheese, heating pad. got it, baby. anything else?” he says thoughtfully, his fingers coming to push strands of hair off from where they stick to her tear strained cheeks.

she shakes her head. “just you.”

he smiles. “okay.” he kisses her forehead. “i’ll be right back, gimmie a few minutes to get all that.” he stands, making sure she’s laid comfortably on the couch. he grabs the blanket from the end of the couch and drapes it over her. his eyes search the living room, landing in the remote, he hands it to her.

he leans down, placing another kiss to her cheek this time. “put on whatever you want. i’ll be back, promise.”

he leaves her at the couch and heads back to the office. he picks up his phone and takes it off hold. “hey, gotta go. somethin’ came up. i’ll give you a call later.” he hung up before the guy could even get a word in.

nothing came before his girl.

[godsfavdarling]

waiting for the day to end

my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You and Spencer come back to his apartment, and your boyfriend’s drunken state brings old wounds to the surface. words: 2,3k warnings: angst, panic attack, drunk Spencer, mentions reader's ex-bf who was an alcoholic, no y/n a/n: I'm imagining later seasons Spence but I am not gonna yuck anybody's yum!

You smoothly place the keys in the lock of his apartment and quickly turn them twice to unlock the door. The dark room abruptly brightens when you flick the light switch on.

Spencer, who has been leaning against the wall near you, stumbles into the room right behind you.

The door slams shut behind him, the thud reverberating through the room.

You flinch, spinning around at the jarring sound.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbles, a bit unsteady.

He throws himself onto the armchair with a heavy sigh, his head lolling back as he closes his eyes.

You murmur under your breath, “I’ll get you some water,” and head toward the kitchen, your heels clacking against the floor. 

In the quiet, you take a few deep breaths to steady yourself before filling two glasses of water. 

When you bring them back, you hand one to Spencer, urging him to drink. He gulps it down immediately, nearly draining the glass in one go.

You’ve never really seen him like this.

Spencer rarely—almost never—drinks. But tonight, it’s obvious just how far gone he is. He’s coherent enough to hold himself up, and his words still make sense, but you can tell he isn’t fully present. 

He was already fading hours ago, just an hour into dinner at Rossi's when his team had convinced him to relax and celebrate Garcia’s birthday with a few drinks.

Now, he’s staring off into space, eyes glassy, a faint smile still lingering from whatever joke had last drifted through his mind. You swallow, feeling the anxiety tug at you.

You felt it early on. But you tried to ignore it.

Spencer was different. 

He was responsible and careful. He liked being sober and in control. He was someone who avoided excess.

He was not a drunk. 

You knew all this and tried to stay rational. 

After his third drink, though, all that rationality flew out the window. With the last gulp of his third drink, you decided to excuse yourself, claiming you weren't feeling well, and spent most of the evening outside. The poker game was so intense that no one really questioned you or bothered to check on you.

You had thought, knowing Spencer’s sharp observation skills, that he would come find you shortly and ask what was wrong. He always did. He could always tell when something was off and always wanted to know. But tonight, he didn’t.

You waited, each minute stretching longer than the last, hoping he’d realize and come find you, that he’d be his usual self. But as the laughter and clinking glasses carried on from inside, you realized he was somewhere you couldn’t reach him tonight.

As you watched him now, slouched in the armchair with you far away from him sitting on the edge of the couch, your heart ached. 

This wasn’t the Spencer you knew. He was lost in his thoughts, barely acknowledging your presence. You handed him your glass of water, and he took it with a mumbled "thanks", sipping it more slowly this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you finally asked, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He looked up at you, his eyes a bit clearer but still distant. “Yeah, just... tired,” he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, but the anxiety still sat inside you.

Stop!

Spencer is not him! 

He is nothing like him!

You keep staring at him, fidgeting with your fingers and the hem of your black velvet dress, feeling helpless as you try to guess what he wants. 

Is he going to stay here for a while? Does he need more water? Is he going to shower, or maybe just head to bed?

Finally, Spencer glances up, his gaze focusing on you as if for the first time tonight. His brows knit together as he notices the anxious look in your eyes. 

"What’s wrong?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with confusion.

You swallow, feeling a rush of emotions you’ve been holding back all evening. He’s looking at you now, really looking, like he usually does, but something about his unsteady, drunken state makes you hesitate. 

He’s here, yet somehow not fully here, and you’re not sure how to answer.

You force a smile, shrugging as if it’s nothing, but your heart pounds. "Just… tired, I guess."

Spencer’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you know he sees through your answer, even in his state. 

Now he sees. 

He’s silent, watching you with a slight frown like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. The quiet stretches between you, heavy and thick.

You glance away, twisting the hem of your dress tighter. 

"Maybe you should get some rest," you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. You try to keep the tremor out, but it’s there. A lot of it.

He’s never seen you like this—not this vulnerable, this close to tears. You’ve not been dating that long. A lot of things are still unknown, unsaid, unshared and the toxic, drunk but highly functioning, unpredictable boyfriends have not yet come out in any conversation.

"I’ll be fine," Spencer mutters, rubbing his face with one hand as he sinks further into the chair.

His words are gentle, but they’re not the reassurance you’re aching for. 

You wish he’d tell you he’d never do this again, that he understands why this is hard for you. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, distant and hazy.

A lump forms in your throat as the silence presses down on you. You stand up, needing some distance, and force a tight smile. "I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll go… take a walk or something."

As you turn to leave, Spencer reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft but unsteady. "It’s like 2 AM. You’re not going anywhere alone."

You stop, frozen, a tightness forming in your chest. You want to say it’s fine, that you just need space, but the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. Instead, he continues, unaware of how badly his presence is affecting you right now.

“Let’s take a walk together. It’ll help,” he offers, his voice tinged with concern, though still a little slurred.

You turn sharply, frustration and something darker bubbling up in your chest. “No!” you snap, louder than you intended, the word echoing in the quiet room. You instantly regret it, but the hurt is too raw, too overwhelming. You try to swallow the sudden surge of emotion, but it’s too much.

You finally realize that his hand in on your arm, and the realization hits like a cold wave. You feel an intense rush of discomfort. You don’t want him near you right now. 

The feeling of his fingers on your skin, even though they’re meant to comfort, feels wrong.

You can’t breathe. You can’t handle his touch, not like this, not after everything that’s happened. You jerk away, backing up, your heart hammering.

Without a word, you turn and storm toward the bathroom. You lock the door behind you and lean against it for a second, trying to steady your breath. 

The walls feel like they’re closing in, the anger and fear swirling inside you until you can hardly tell the difference between the two.

It’s not his fault, you think, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside your chest.

He’s just drunk, he’ll be sober soon, but... why does it still feel so wrong?

You press your hands to your face, feeling the tears already starting to form.

I’m not that person anymore. I’m not going to let this take me back. I can’t let it.

Your thoughts race, but you force yourself to focus, turning the shower on. The sound of the water helps. 

You quickly but clumsily step out of the dress and underwear, leaving them in a heap on the tiles. 

You step under the hot spray, closing your eyes, letting the warmth soothe the tension in your muscles.

Just wash it off, just wash it off, you tell yourself as if the water could cleanse more than just your skin.

You’re lost in the sensation of the water for long minutes when there’s a gentle knock on the bathroom door. 

You freeze. Your heart skipping a beat.

“Hey… uh… I really need to pee,” Spencer calls out, his voice even softer than before.

You swallow, fighting the panic rising in your throat, and quickly shut off the water. You wrap a towel around your body and open the door just enough for you to slip past him. Without a word, you go into the bedroom and gracelessly put on one of the shirts you left in his drawer.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow everything will be fine, you think, climbing into bed, curling up under the covers. 

You just want this day to end. You need it to end.

Then it hits you—you’re in his bed.

You stand up and then sit again on the edge.

You should go home. You should be in your own bed. You want to get up, gather your things, get dressed, and leave, but you're paralyzed. You're overwhelmed. You can’t breathe. You can’t move.

Then Spencer walks into the room, his gaze landing on you. As if he can read the turmoil in your mind, he says softly, "It's late. Stay here tonight. Take the bed. I’ll take the couch."

You don’t say anything, unable to find the words.

He pauses, watching you for a moment, before quietly pulling his pajamas from the closet and heading into the bathroom.

You just need to sleep. You’ll sleep it off, and when you wake up, things will make sense again. Maybe Spencer will apologize. 

Apologize for what?

He didn’t do anything wrong.

He’ll be sober. Everything will go back to normal.

But sleep doesn’t come. The bed feels cold, and the silence in the room is suffocating. You can’t shake the thoughts in your head.

What if he doesn’t remember?

What if he won’t leave it and you’ll have to explain and he’ll be angry?

Why are you angry?

Why are you upset?

Just as you're about to give up on sleep altogether, you hear the soft creak of the door opening. Spencer slips into the room quietly, his footsteps hesitant. He walks to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying anything at first.

"Are you asleep?" he asks quietly, his voice gentle, almost too careful. You feel his gaze on you, even though you’re facing the window, your back to him.

You don’t answer at first. You don’t want to talk to him right now. You don’t want to explain why everything feels broken. You don’t want him to ask.

But you can feel him there, his presence. 

Finally, he speaks again, his voice low but steady. “Please... can we talk? I don't wanna go to bed with you upset and angry.”

You don’t move, staring into the dark. You wish you could say the right thing. You wish you could fix it, but all you feel is a dull ache in your chest, and the thought that maybe nothing will ever be the same again.

Spencer’s hand reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly as he hesitates for a moment before gently moving toward you. "Hey, I—" His voice cracks, and you can hear the sorrow in it, the regret, the helplessness.

But as his arms come closer, something inside you recoils. You can’t have him near you right now. Not like this. Not when everything feels so wrong.

You flinch, turning away from him instinctively, the words coming out before you even have a chance to stop them. “Please don’t touch me.”

The words hang between you like a heavyweight. 

Spencer freezes, his hand hovering in mid-air, and for a second, everything is still. You can hear his breathing — shallow, uneven — as if he’s trying to understand, trying to process what just happened.

You don’t want him to feel hurt, but you can’t help it. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a raw nerve, and his touch, even if it's meant to comfort, feels suffocating.

“Okay,” Spencer finally says, his voice small, resigned. He pulls his hand back slowly, as though giving you space to breathe. 

You don’t look at him. You can’t. 

“I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice distant now, like he’s trying to find his footing again. “I just... I’m not sure what happened. I know hurt you. I don’t know how but I’m sorry.”

The silence lingers, thick and uncomfortable, wrapping itself around both of you. Spencer hesitates for a long moment, unsure of what to do or say next. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t lift yours. 

Finally, he clears his throat softly.

“I’ll... I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he says, his voice gentle and careful like he’s trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

“It’s okay. If you want to talk... or anything... just come and tell me. I’ll be here.”

You don’t say anything. You still don’t look at him. But you can hear the sincerity in his voice, the aching honesty of it.

If only his words, his willingness to be there even when you’ve pushed him away could make things better.

But you don’t answer him, because you don’t have the strength to. You don’t know what to say.

Spencer sighs quietly, almost like a final surrender, and then you hear his footsteps moving away from you.

The door opens and closes softly behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence of the room once more.

Spencer’s words echo in your mind, but they don’t bring comfort. Not yet. 

[amazinglyashy]

hello!! can I request fluff reactions of the boys to mc craving something to eat in the middle of the night?

thank youu have a good day 🥰

I'm laughing because you asked this like it would be the most off the cuff situation, when literally every single one of these men canonly have an awful sleep schedule and nighttime habits. Like, there is absolutely nothing weird about this at all except the fact that you're awake when they're awake.

LaDS men when you crave something to eat in the middle of the night -

Zayne -

In all honestly, he was just now getting home from a shift at Akso hospital, so it takes him just a few moments to register why the situation in front of him was abnormal.

He can't help it, he's usually coming home in the early evening, not at three in the morning.

So when he sees you sitting at the counter, snacking on something, he simply sets his stuff down near the door and removes his tie, before coming over to give you a peck on the cheek in greeting.

He's made it halfway to the bathroom, yawning wide and telling himself to get some good sleep tonight- well, technically this morning- wait… morning…? What on earth were you doing up-

He's back in the kitchen in a second, with your eyes flickering back to him in an innocent question, confused as to why he's looking at you so bewildered.

'Why', is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, and when you finally process what he means by that, you can't help but give him a chuckle and a smile, still eating whatever you had gotten from the fridge or cupboard.

"I was hungry."

Not even going to question why you acted on your impulses to eat at three in morning. He'll just sigh, and tell you to make sure you get to bed soon for the sake of your health and mood tomorrow. Gives you one more kiss before heading off to get ready for bed himself.

Sylus -

He's probably just getting up.

So when he starts to rise and notices you lying awake, he's going to be confused, hoping to himself that you didn't have some freakish nightmare, especially not any possibly involving your past experiences with him-

No.

Turns out, you're currently trying to make yourself go back to sleep, despite wanting something warm to eat, but also not wanting to cook.

He's going to find it terribly endearing, letting out a little snicker and making you blush at his reaction, his hand carding through your hair as he leans down over you.

"I think you're forgetting something, kitten. I wake up around this time- meaning, I need to have something for breakfast before working on anything. You do know you can ask the chef to make you something right now, right sweetie?"

He won't say it, but you can tell he's so pleased to be eating with you, even though he knows you'll be heading off to bed right after, it's a nice change of pace for him. He's more than happy to have your company, no matter the odd hour.

Rafayel -

He's finally ready to kick himself into going to bed, but the moment he opens the bedroom door, he runs into you.

At first, he's worried.

Secondly, he's miffed that you got up to come and harrass him into coming to bed again.

Thirdly, he's extra miffed that none of the previous answers are true, but you're actually just hungry.

He's seen the way you snack, he knows you're not just making something up. And he can't exactly let you go back to bed hungry so-

That's how he ended up making a late night dish rather than finally heading to bed.

Any protests to him cooking fell on deaf ears. He's having none of that. He can tell you're still sleepy, and since he hasn't wound down yet, he isn't. So he's more than happy to cook for you.

Definitely wasn't hungry himself, definitely didn't forget to have dinner, no sir-

He'll sit and eat with you, asking if you had any interesting dreams, before making up scenarios that may have occurred involving food monsters and treat fairies.

He's not trying to hear that beautiful sound that is your laugh. Not at all. He's trying even less hard to make the meal last longer, just so that he can spend a little bit more time with you-

Xavier -

He probably saw you on his own way to get a snack, in all honesty.

You two just have to share a look, contemplating the situation, before the both of you begin to grin, realizing what the other is awake doing.

He offers to walk you around the block to the corner shop that's open 24hrs, so that the two of you can get some junk food or spicy microwave noodles to have together.

If you don't want to go anywhere, he'll either go himself or order delivery from somewhere that's open all hours so that you guys don't need to cook. He doesn't want to put out a fire for his attempts this late at night, and you either don't feel like it, or you're not the best at it yourself.

(You're still better than him though.)

Whenever the two of you end up getting your food, you sit together on the couch, legs folded over one another as you tangle together to watch an episode of something you've been binging.

You'll both wake up completely different though- having fallen asleep together on the couch after finishing your food, and ending up snuggled closely, a bundle of warm blankets and pajamas mixed with the relaxing sensation of the other's breathing.

Thank goodness today was the both of your day off...

[everywherea11thetime]

Cady girl

cadygirl! reader x lando norris

summary: you usually hated being a cady girl but a certain boy changed that

a/n: reallyyy super short fic that came into my mind like an hour ago. enjoy! xx

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

Being a cady girl wasn't fun most of the time, 18-year-old trust fund kids thought that they could say whatever they wanted to you and give you the lowest of low tips. But it did have its ups, like the pay or like when a cute guy would come up to you but it usually always ended in him showing no interest in you or secretly being a freak. Today was one of those times, let's just hope it goes well

A man had waved you down mentally rolling your eyes because he just gave off gross rich boy vibes but when he opened his mouth you were surprised to hear a “can I just have a coke and water please” and not “are you offering any other things that aren't on the menu” accompanied with a disgusting smirk and a peak up your skirt. You looked schocked for a bit but then hopped off to get his things. “Okay that will be 9.75” you said with a smile that hadn't crossed your face in a long time, it was a genuine and nice smile. His friend said something that you couldn't hear and the cute boy replied with a look down at his golf cart and and laughed “chat stop” “sorry huh” you asked. He looked up cheeks bright red “oh sorry I'm live streaming and my chat said that you were cute” you let out a knowing “ohhh, well tell them I said thank you” and started to climb back into your cart “its true ya know” you turned around and smiled “oh really” he put his head down while stuffing his hands in his pockets and nodded shyly “yea of course, your gorgeous” “thank you” you felt your cheeks warm up and started to drive away

2 hours later you were still thinking about the cute boy you served but tried pushing the thought away thinking you'd never see him again. Deep in your thoughts suddenly the sound of an engine catches your attention you turn around and see the cute boy from earlier. He walks up to you “Hey so you can totally tell me to go fuck off but could I get your number so maybe we could go on a date or something?” extending his phone out to you. God you never thought you would be excited that a golf boy was hitting on you “yea, of course, I’d love to!” you said as you typed your number into his phone “Thanks by the way I’m Lando” you smile “my names y/n” “cute name to match the cute face.” you laugh shyly as he starts to speak again “so what days do you have off, so we can hang out” “I only work on weekends and fridays, so any other day is good” he nods reassuringly “ok so how about coffee at the cafe like two blocks down on Monday?” you’d seen the coffee place and has been meaning to go get never ended up going through with it “yea actually I’d love that I’ve been meaning to go” “nice I’ve been meaning to go too! I’ll see you Friday, it’s a date” Lando said with a smile then walked away He was the cutest boy you’d ever seen. And from that moment on you knew you were doomed.

[nanenna]

Jeez Louise This is a Mess

Sleepy King (Nenna edition) Master Post

Apologies in advance, I'm not very familiar with John Constantine, trying to do anything from his perspective is definitely an unwise decision. I have chosen it anyway. He's almost definitely OOC.

---

John watched the Fentons and the mayor just saunter through the brand new hole in the mayor’s wall like this was just a normal Friday for them. Considering how weird the town was as a whole, it probably was. And he meant that by the old meaning of the word and as literal as one could possibly interpret it. He’d never been anywhere where the veil was so thin over such a large area, with æther so thick in the air of course it was affecting the locals. Probably had something to do with whoever or whatever had cloaked the whole town.

John turned to Tall Dark and Broody, “So, what happened to all the bugs and trackers you put on them originally?”

Batsy frowned, “Danny’s are still in the Fenton residence, expected since he clearly changed his clothes. His parents’ trackers and bugs all went offline not long after arriving home, the ones I placed inside the residence are malfunctioning.”

“And that’s not the least bit suspicious?” John asked.

“It’s incredibly suspicious,” Batsy said with a completely straight face before turning and also walking right out the brand new hole. “I suggest you actually use the comm I gave you earlier, they’re explaining the situation to Masters.”

Unfortunately Mr. Gargles Gravel for Breakfast had a point, John sighed and did put in the comm, though he knew it would be spotty with the use of magic to follow the group. Batsy and Wonder Woman could follow however they liked, John did not have the energy for that.

The comms were staticky, cutting in and out even without John’s abuse of the thin veil to quick step around town. Not surprising, the amount of pure death magic radiating off the two dead-alive people in that tank would be enough to mess with most electronics even if the veil weren’t practically non-existent.

“Somehow this place feels cozy,” Boston commented as he followed John.

“You would think so.”

The conversation on the comm was getting worse, the bugs were clearly slowly giving up the ghost. John only caught a few words here and there, and those were only because they were Ghost Speak, something that shouldn’t be possible for flesh and blood mouths to speak. It’s just bits and pieces, names and titles mostly, but if he’s understanding this right…

“Huh, that may change the situation a bit.”

“What are you going on about?” Boston asked.

“It sounds like Pariah isn’t the Ghost King anymore. But Batsy’s bugs are losing the war against æther, so when we get there you’re gonna need to go spy on them.”

“Will that work?”

“Try to keep out of sight, but even if you get caught the worst they’ll do is kick you out. Undead solidarity.”

Boston grumbled, but when John met back up with Batsy and Wonder Woman staring through a window right to where the group was talking, Boston did as he was asked and slipped right through the wall and inside. John cast a quick spell to spy through Boston.

Boston floated slowly into the room, seemingly becoming braver as the Fentons looked right past him without reacting. Unfortunately, he got a little too close to the one person in the room that could definitely see him. The kid jumped out of his seat in surprise.

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” The kid whined as he picked himself up off the floor. Then he froze, eyes glaring at Boston. “How did you sneak up on me? You didn't activate my ghost sense at all.”

“Oh, you can see me? And ghost sense?”

“You don't know who I am?”

“Uh… Daniel Fenton?”

“Well yes, but ghosts don't usually call me that.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“How about you tell me your name first?”

“I’m Deadman.”

The kid burst into laughter. “Are you for real?”

“Danny, is it Youngblood?” The sister asked.

“Huh?” The kid looked to his older sister, then back to Boston. He gestured, “You can't see him?”

The Fentons all shook their heads.

The creepy mayor came back into the room holding a cardboard box, knocking a thin layer of dust from the top. “Here it is!” He looked up and frowned. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?”

“I’m Deadman and I’m uh… lost?”

“He didn't set off my ghost sense,” the kid added. He turned back to Boston, “Are you even a ghost?”

Batman, who’d spent the last few minutes getting into the perfect position while he waited for the most dramatic moment chose then to crash through the window. John started cursing as he rushed to climb in after the loon, already prepping a spell. The moment he had a clear line of sight he shot off the revelation spell at the kid.

It did… well not much.

Really about all it did was give the kid a couple extra accessories. He expected them, but he also expected it to somehow reveal the kid’s undead status too. Make him look all glowy and ghostly like he had when he’d first arrived last night, because John was pretty sure the kid hadn’t been kidnapped after all. Or at least not how they originally assumed, he was pretty sure some spirits considered an unwilling summons a kidnapping.

Still, there the crown was. Just floating over the kid’s head, toxic green æther flames around it like a death energy aurora. And like any teenager the kid seemed completely oblivious, having to be told the crown was even there. Once he got a hand on it though he said something odd, “Okay, crown retrieved.”

John just tucked his hands in his pockets, waiting to see what they were doing. Why did they think they needed to find the crown?

“We may have a problem,” The creepy mayor said as he pulled an identical crown from his cardboard box.

“What.” The kid looked back and forth between the crown in his hand and the one in the creeper’s. “Why are there two?”

And, well, John agreed. Why the fuck were there two? He already started muttering an identification spell as the kid turned to him.

“What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything,” John protested, “that was purely an identification spell, it can't duplicate things!”

“Well clearly you did something wrong,” The kid’s mom said while glaring at the him.

Of course things got dicey after that, the kid and the creepy mayor got into a fight over the second crown, things turned into a right mess, and John was quite content to let them squabble among themselves. He moved to go stand next to Batsy and Wonder Woman, Boston with him, waiting to see how this went.

Of course the tussle then turned into fighting over the ring on the kid’s finger, still blaming John for just revealing the crown and ring the kid had apparently had this whole time.

“Alright, that’s enough. Shut up!” John may have put a bit of intent into that, and it worked beautifully. The whole group stopped and stared at him, finally shutting up. The parents managed to get between the kid and the creeper, each one still with one of the crowns.

The crowns he now knew were both, somehow, legitimate.

John pointed at the kid, “Just call the crown, it’ll listen.”

The kid gave him a disbelieving look. “Oh sure, I’ll just,” he hunched forward a little bit, clapped his hands, and whistled like he was calling a dog, “here Crowny, Crowny, Crowny.”

For a brief moment nothing happened, then the creeper mayor jerked forward as the crown yanked itself from his hand. It went to go join the other crown floating over the kid’s head, one of them grew wider so the other could nestle inside it, both spinning in place but in opposite directions.

Everyone was staring at the display.

“What uh… what are they doing?” The kid asked nervously.

“They… like each other?” The sister asked skeptically.

“Great, wonderful, fabulous, just what I need in my life.” The kid sighed and turned to glare at John. “What. Did. You. DO?!”

“I didn’t do shit,” John replied, much to the parents’ combined horror. “Looks like somehow they’re both legit, my best guess is one of them isn’t from this timeline.”

“Oh,” the sister said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “The Nasty Burger explosion happened after the fight with the king, right?”

“The what?” the kid’s parents asked.

“Oh,” the kid responded, “I’m starting to see why the council of eyeballs hates my guts.”

And wasn’t that a concerning sentence. John desperately needed a drink, thankfully he had a flask on him and chose that moment to take a swig. “Alright, so there should be a second ring too, no point leaving that on Dark’s finger in case he gets out again.”

“Vlad did it,” the kid said while pointing at the creeper.

“Excuse me!” Creeper actually put a hand to his neck, like some fainting Victorian lady.

“Vlad tried to steal the ring and crown, so he let Dark out of the sarcophagus and I had to go clean up his mess, like always.” The kid glared at the creeper, it was starting to paint a really concerning picture.

“I’m sure Vladdie was just trying to keep these powerful artifacts safe,” the kid’s dad said loudly and happily. Yeah, there was the concerning picture again.

“I’d believe it if all he took was the ring, but the crown was safely sealed away with Pariah and he let the guy out to steal it.”

“Just call the ring,” John said gruffly.

“Here Ragey, Ragey, Ragey.” The kid whistled and clapped his hands again. The ring showing up on the kid’s other hand was expected, the glowing green hell hound that came sprinting through the wall and practically tackled the kid wasn’t. “Cujo! Hi! Who’s a good puppy?!”

Keeriest, John needed a stiffer drink.

[loveparqdise]

Summary: chris is a drug dealer and y/n’s a ballerina. you’re not happy with they way he does drugs and kills himself by doing so.

Warning: angst, cursing, drugs? yeah i think that’s all. no smut.

A/N: this is my first fan fic i don’t know if it’s nice or not but it took me a while. it’s based on the song “you by chase atlantic” (it’s a really good song) and there is a bot also on my cai acc based on this, this fic is more detailed tho. (cai is same as my username on here jf you wanna check it out.) feedback is always appreciated and tell me if you want me to do more in the future! also if you wanna be added to my tag list please comment on this post! 🤍

chris was a pretty fucked up dealer, tbh. he would sell drugs, take them, party and that was — until he met you. you changed his life. you were a ballerina, you were usually quiet and reserved. he met you at one of your shows, the show nick literally dragged him too.

despite him being a dealer, who does drugs, you couldn’t help but fall in love. you both started dating, around a few months ago. you guys were like a normal couple, if you weren’t comfortable with something, he wouldn’t force you — no, not at all. he would respect your boundaries.

you’d just wish he stopped doing drugs. he was literally killing himself, every single day and he knew that. and still he would do it. one day, you finally thought you’d break up with him, so you told him to come to the spot you and chris always went too. he arrived and saw you sitting there. he approached you and sat next to you, giving a small kiss on your cheek. “hey, ma. why’d you call me here all of a sudden?” his fingers intertwined with yours as he gently caressed your hand with his thumb.

“chris, i don’t think this is working, i mean, i really really love you but you’re killing yourself everyday because of these drugs, and i hate seeing you like this, i’m giving you time to work on yourself. we can be together after some time, chris i promise.”

he felt as if a ton of bricks hit him at once. were you really breaking up with him? he couldn’t stand this, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream at you, “are you serious? really y/n? after all we’ve been through you’re throwing it all away just because i do drugs?” anger and frustration were clear in his voice, he just couldn’t get it.

“chris, try to understand please, i do love you but i want you to work on yourself and stop doing drugs, please.” he scoffed, he couldn’t believe your words. he got up, “whatever.” he left, on the outside, it looked like he didn’t care but on the inside he was breaking, he felt as if a dagger had hit his heart.

the next few months, chris worked everyday, to be a better person for you. he didn’t deal as much as he used to. he stopped taking drugs and going to parties. instead, he found his new hobby, writing songs. He wrote songs about you, about how deep in love he was with you.

he wouldn’t release it until you forgave him, he wanted you to be there with him throughout this journey. he finally thought it was time to talk to you, tell you that he’s improving. he reached your house & knocked on your door. his heart was beating fast. what if you found another guy? what if you had a boyfriend who was way better than him? what if— his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by hearing the door open.

there you were, wearing a simple outfit but gosh you looked absolutely stunning. he handed you the flowers he bought you, your expression softened. “Hey.” he was clearly nervous, you returned a smile and told him to come in.

you both sat on the couch as he handed you a book, it was full of his songs that he wrote for you. “I wrote this song for you, I put down the drugs for you, I’m so in love with you, A thousand apologies couldn’t make up for the time that I’ve wasted. I've improved. Please give me another chance, let me show you how much I love you.”

“chris, these songs they’re—” you started off but suddenly cut off by chris’s voice, “yeah i know they’re horrible.” he chuckled, looking down and fidgeting with his fingers. “chris what? they’re literally amazing, there’s so much emotion and feelings in these lyrics, i’m so proud of you.” you held his hand, he finally looked up to see your face, you had a soft smile on your face, love was clear on your face. “you really think so?” he looked at you, “i know so.”

you smiled and cupped his face, “i think i’m ready to be together with you. i love you so much.” chris’s eyes widened, he wasn’t expecting you to forgive him so easily, he couldn’t help but just jump on you and kiss the fuck out of you. “i love you.” he said and after that he fucked you on the couch and showed you who you belong too.

tysm for reading! i hoped you liked it, it was my first one so it’s probably horrible😭 if you could reblong it would be really kind tysm <3

divided by @enchanthings

[tozettastone]

"That other unnamed Grimmjow/Ichigo (Bleach) fic," is actually a fic in which I skimmed so many of the omegaverse fics (which, can confirm, I still don't enjoy) and a bunch of the mating cycles/in heat fics and decided I too could write about the hollow urge to bone.

It's a fic about how Ichigo experiences a fairly minor change in his libido relating to the awakening of his inner hollow and, because he is a teenager, responds like the world is ending.

My draft is a draft and subject to change, but this is the vibe:

"Like a cow?" is the first thing Ichigo thinks to say, puffed up in indignation. It's not Ichigo's fault, really. He remembers, very vaguely, a life sciences class from when he was fifteen. Everyone picked an animal about which to research the life cycle. Ichigo, naturally, had been late — important shinigami business, naturally — and the only approved animal left had been domestic cattle. That was the last time he heard the word "oestrus." It has been living on the back shelf of his brain ever since. It's definitely not a term he expects to hear used about himself! Urahara blinks at him from over his fan. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. "Not... exactly," he says. Ichigo gets the sense that he has, for once, surprised him. "Many mammals experience oestrus cycles, Kurosaki-kun. Humans are actually in the minori—" "Urahara-san... Is this some kind of bad joke?" Ichigo can't imagine otherwise, but he also can't figure out why this is the joke Urahara is telling. His sense of humour usually runs high to pervy shit, but it's usually aimed at pretty young girls, not... "You're telling me everyone with an inner hollow is going around in — in season?" Like a farm animal? "Ah. No." Urahara tilts his head so that the shine of one eye peeks out from under the shadow of his hat. "This kind of thing... it's hollow biology. It's not something that affects vizards. I've never seen it on paper before and I've never studied its effects." "If it doesn't happen to vizards, why would it happen to me?" Ichigo demands. Urahara tucks one hand behind his head and titters an obnoxious little laugh, because he's clearly not taking this anywhere near as seriously as Ichigo wishes he would. "You're unique! It's hard to predict these things with your hybrid biology, you know. But as far as I know, there's no reason to suspect it will make you do anything you don't already want to. You'll probably find yourself shorter tempered and more restless, and what you want in a partner may change for the duration." His smile gets a smidge wider. "This is a confusing time of any young man's life, Kurosaki-kun, but you shouldn't worry if you have any... new urges." New urges. New urges. Like he's twelve and just discovering his dick can get hard at inopportune times? He surfaces from his mortification for long enough to scrunch up his face. "That doesn't make any sense," Ichigo protests. "I can't be... doing that. For one, I'm a man." Urahara snaps his fan open just to use it to gesture dramatically, like if he pulls off a flashy enough act Ichigo will somehow resist the temptation to smack him in the face with it. Ichigo will not resist that temptation. "Ah, but these measurements suggest otherwise, Kurosaki-kun. It's not really dependent on sex for hollows, either... they don't reproduce sexually. Besides! Who knows, perhaps there's a lonely hollow love out there just waiting for you to imprint on he — Oof! Ouch!" Ichigo tosses the lightly bloodied fan onto the desk, turns on his heel and stalks towards the shop's entrance. Chad blinks up from his intense staring competition with Jinta, but whatever he sees in Ichigo's face is enough to prevent him from following him. "Aya... my own fan," sighs Urahara behind him. Then he raises his voice, so that what follows Ichigo out into the rainy Kurakara afternoon is: "It's important to keep an open mind, Kurosaki!" "Pass!" Ichigo bellows back.

Anyway I'm going to ruin his life. For fun! :)

Okay, here's what's going on right now:

I was going to name the Ishida/Szayel (Bleach) fic "The Way To The Top" but despite the subject matter it has turned out way less comedic than I thought it would be, so I may have to rename it. Regardless, it's currently 18,000 words long and still somehow going.

The latest Maddieverse fic (Naruto) is "Where The Heart Is" and it's currently 22,000 words long. I am more or less still following the outline and have not run into any sudden debilitating snags. It continues.

That other unnamed Grimmjow/Ichigo (Bleach) fic is 3,000 words long so far. It's intended to be a one shot, but it feels like it's only about 30% done. I don't think I signed up for a 10k word fic but what the hell do I know.

I've also written 2,500 words of a prompt fic in which Maddie meets Sakura but I haven't ended it properly yet. But that also exists, I guess?

[just-a-queer-fanboy]

Ah, social cues, my arch nemesis.

Ok but seriously I'm consulting wikihow on how to flirt I feel like a shitty teen movie protagonist right now

[aphverse-confessions]

I have a conspiracy theory that whoever is in charge of this account keeps track of the people who forget to turn on anon for their confessions whether by simply keeping them in the ask box waiting to be answered, or by screenshotting them. And when the day finally comes for this account to be defunct there will be BLOODSHED.

that or you secretly work for Jess, or ARE HER! *que dramatic music*

Okay I was gonna post this as a normal confrssion but I changed my mind. So all of my response is in the tags teehee

[ennard-is-near]

Fuck it, FNaF Kill count! (Humans only)

FNaF 1:

Phone Guy (Ralph)

FNaF 2:

Six children (later revealed to be Charlie Emily, Susie, Fritz, Jeremy, Gabriel and Cassidy)

FNaF 3:

William Afton

FNaF 4:

CC Afton (Evan/David)

Sister Location:

Elizabeth Afton

Michael Afton

Two unnamed male technicians

One “Dead body found” in a vent

Pizzeria Sim:

Henry Emily

Help Wanted:

Jeremy

Security Breach:

Nine random townsfolk

Total:

25 human deaths (11 male, 4 female, 10 unknown)

Waughhh not enough information to go further I think.

I can’t think of any deaths from Ruin or HW 2 (I don’t want to confirm Cassie’s Dad as anything yet I don’t know what happened to him) and I know Vanessa has that thing about killing therapists but that’s mostly based on book stuff and it’s hard for me to piece together so I just ignored it :)

The 9 townsfolk are from the alleyway ending, where Gregory is shown with a newspaper with nine missing residents. I assume that the “Later…” text isn’t that much of a timeskip (Gregory still has the bandaid on his face, and to me it would have fallen off after enough time for her to kill nine ppl) so I think Vanny has already killed all these people by the events of SB and the deaths would be canon, even if it’s not featured in the canon ending.

I did not put the five more kids that some people think there are because I don’t think there are five more kids. That doesn’t even make sense there are only four toy animatronics where would the fifth one go? The toys aren’t possessed, they’re just like that.

Oh btw, everyone was marked for their first appearance as dead. This is mostly about the MCI kids and Charlie bc I know they were shown in more depth in PS (Susie and Charlie especially) but they are first shown as corpses in 2

Okay tell me if I missed anything.

[divine-misfortune]

You get it

Anyways insanity under the cut for everyone's safety

Aether being weird and kinda manipulative but it's sexy so dw

@0-miles-away @miasmaghoul grabbing and shaking both of you for encouraging this

I don't know how he talked Rain into it, but once a day he has that water ghoul seated in his office, fingers digging into his thighs as he tries to breathe through it like Aether told him to. Rainy always listens so well, and why wouldn't he? Aether's a medical professional, of course what he says is best.

The first few times Rain is cringing and wincing with every pulse of the machine - even insisted once or twice he doesn't wanna do it again but Aether insists gently but firmly. Maybe by the second week he comes to tolerate it more (don't think Aether misses the depth of his flush, how it creeps right down his chest).

It's become routine; a little after noon Rain sits in the soft chair in the corner and shrugs his shirt off, he lets Aether bring the cups to his chest and turn the somewhat noisy machine on, and he sits there quiet as he can aside from the occasional little whimper he tries to swallow down so that Aether can focus on his work. About a half hour, sometimes more if Aether thinks he can tolerate it. By the end Rain's nipples are an angry albeit rosy shade of red, he grits his teeth as he puts his shirt back on, and Aether always has to fight a little smirk when the distinct sea salt scent hits him. Rain couldn't hide the truth from him if he tried.

But as always at the end the bottle is empty. Aether looks so disappointed. Subtly makes Rain feel a little guilty for not producing yet, sighs out loud and wonders if maybe Cirrus would be a better subject for this. Rain gets those big, sad, worried eyes of his. All sweet like a kicked puppy, it nearly makes Aether feel bad but the way Rain jumps to try to appease him makes something dark curl pleasantly in his gut. Satisfaction overtakes it.

Rain blindly agrees to supplements, vitamins, whatever Aether thinks is best.

He starts to smell far sweeter, fresh honey and daisies. His tits start to fill out as time goes on, his shirts fit him too tight and his uniform has a gap between the buttons fighting not to burst over his chest, but not a drop of milk despite how they start to hurt. Sore to the touch, heavy and aching, his nipples consistently pebbled and poking through his shirts - Rain almost starts wearing a bra just to save him the shame of part of this.

One day Rain comes in as usual but Aether guides him to the exam room instead of his usual chair. Gets him stripped and laid out, feet in stirrups, cups latched to his chest. He looks so oddly vulnerable Aether throbs behind his zipper as he continues to set things up as normal - and very suddenly things stop feeling so normal.

Aether pets up his calf like he's almost comforting him and all at once Rain feels looser, his knees fall apart because he can't think to hold them together for modesty anymore. Prep isn't necessary, not with how fucking wet Rain appears to get while hooked up to the pump. He shushes Rain's dumb little sounds when he slides home, buries himself to the root in his body, and Rain's eyes almost cross.

He tells Rain how he's figured it out, everything makes sense now. His body wouldn't produce yet because it was missing something so important - and Aether promises to give it to him. He'll fuck a litter into him, and once it takes, Rain can make himself useful and his poor swollen tits can finally let down for him.

And when his knot catches, he pulls the cups from his chest and gives both a good squeeze that punches the wind out of Rain's lungs. Tells him that they feel fuller already, ready to burst even.

If he just...

Aether latches onto his tit and grinds his knot that much deeper, suckling at one nipple and circling the other with his thumb, it doesn't take long to feel that first sweet droplet hit his tongue. Rain cries out in beautiful agony and pure relief all at once, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, body shaking like a leaf in a windstorm.

It's the most sinful thing Aether's tasted in his life, can't help the little groan he lets out as he drinks him down like a man starved.

Maybe their pack princess was made to be knocked up like this.

Maybe Aether should keep him this way.

Smthn smthn Aether hooking Rain up to a breast pump to induce lactation smtn smthn medfet humiliation

[burntears]

I should probably finagle more specific ways of interacting with Her throughout the DA games. It's honestly not hard, especially for most of the DA protags and companions. She loves an underdog.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of drawing people's faces and lifting any art of [will roland role based] characters overhead when you can tell the artist was actually trying to meaningfully use that inspiration beyond "brown hair. glasses" like wow once in a lifetime unsame as it ever was

not coming up a lot that Professional Illustrators are drawing will roland as [role] or like, in general, but that in fact there Are the examples of professional illustrator justin "squigs" robertson drawing him several times and it's like, doing stylized portraits of people working in theatre that are indeed focusing on distinguishable individuals versus, say, the style being more abstracted

all drawn differently but various gists are there, and none of the people in these group collages look interchangeable or like oh and this person gets thee "generic/default" look

there's also the fact i'm like 99% sure there's a squigs-drawn larger portrait of will roland just as himself that i love to think of / sure further encapsulates that "thank god this artist drawing Features" but i can't find it or remember exactly what context it was in. augh

but also there's this other deh illustration ft. wrol jared i found lol. bonus

[tigerincahoots]

MAYBE HENRY WAS USED TO IT… but he shouldn’t be. Not that Kevin usually took it upon himself to defend someone – he couldn’t give two fucks about someone else’s problems – but there were times were a line needed to be drawn. He had been an army brat all of his life. He was mocked when he was younger by superior officers and guys who held the same rank as him. He was the butt of everyone’s jokes until the day he stood up for himself, punched someone in the throat and left them wheezing on the floor without a care. He had no patience for bullies. Ignorant or not. And to even think that Henry had been dealing with that shit for fuck knows how long…?

”THAT IS NOT AN EXCUSE.” Now that they were away from the others, his semblance became almost softer. Almost as if he was genuinely displaying some sort of emotion toward the whole circumstance. “They might be scared or plain ignorant but that doesn’t give anyone the right to bully someone. I was bullied before and I lack the tolerance for that shit. If they can’t behave like proper adults, someone needs to set their fucking asses straight.” And as long as that assignment would continue, he would proceed to have Henry’s back. Not just because that’s what a good partner would do but no one deserved to be the butt of everyone’s joke. “I’m sorry you had to deal with them.” Another unnatural display of emotion. He did not feel sorry for anything, really. “They won’t bother you again.”

AS HE GLANCED BACK TO THE GROUP, the comment of him being hot when he was annoyed at people who were not Henry almost made him chuckle, forcing him to turn his head to his partner and look him straight in the eye. Up close, Henry did have the most gorgeous eyes. How come he hasn’t noticed those yet? “What? Are you telling me that seeing me tell those idiots to fuck off gave you a boner?” Like clockwork, his gaze lowered to Henry’s bulge – a sly smirk growing like a Cheshire cat plastered on his lips. “Should I scream at them some more then? If that’s what gets your engine running – I can keep it going for as long as you need me to.” He was definitely flirting but also trying to move past the whole pathetic display that the coroner and the other officers had displayed. Again – SHEEP. He would not lose more time with them than needed.

”WHAT DO YOU MEAN ALONE?” One eyebrow rose, head tilting to the side with mild curiosity as Kevin couldn’t help but wonder what Henry was about to do. Something weird that he was afraid his partner would see? “You say you have an open mind. So do I. I’m coming with.” Not only because they were partners but he was curious about whatever Henry was going to do. He did smell human for all intents and purposes but maybe there was more to him than he had expected? Some big secret? “I was in the army. I did and saw stuff, Quinn. Your definition of unusual might be quite different from mine.” And he was curious. Sure – curiosity killed the cat but he still have eight other lives to spare so what was the issue? “I’ll trust you if you trust me.”

Henry didn't care about the laughing, he was used to it, but also he had learned a long time ago that someone's opinion of you said more about them than it did you. Gone were his younger days when comments about him being 'weird' would hurt his feelings. Now he saw his uniqueness as a gift. Still though, no one had ever stood up for him before, and he was surprised it was Kevin of all people.

"The 'Wong' assignment? Really?" Henry smiled and shook his head. "I understand your frustration with them, but don't let it bother you if possible. The jokes, this line of work, sometimes you have to laugh or make some dark jokes to stay sane. It's how some of them cope." He didn't add that the typical man had no idea how to control their emotions or face them; that any sign of sadness or empathy wasn't macho and seen as weakness. Henry didn't comply to any of that nonsense. And that's why they didn't bother him, they were ignorant, fragile, and unable to emote. In a way, he felt pity for them.

"At the end of the day it's up to the coroner after the autopsy to determine the COD, despite what we think. We just keep investigating as though it were a murder, for now." Henry didn't know if murder was the right word. If Kevin was right, and this was some beast, was this just it's nature, or deliberate?

Henry tilted his head and gave Kevin and raised eyebrow, "Mm hmm, sure, sure, you know as much as I do. You said werewolf, what's that about? I'm open to the possibility. I'm from West Virginia, we believe in Mothman." He smiled, "You know, you're kinda hot when you're annoyed by someone that's not me." He gave his partner a pat on the shoulder. "Thanks for sticking up for the victim, and me."

He took a deep breath, "I have to do something now, I usually do it alone, and it's gonna be a little....unusual."

[fujouppy]

youreaddictedtolonelinessand desperationitsthestrongestemotionyouveeverknownsoyoursubconscioustellsyouthatitsyourdestiny.com/careers

[medicinemane]

I'm very tired, I have to do everything around the house myself (as in, I keep having to turn the water off and on to the kitchen sink until I teach myself to install a new faucet, and negative cleaning gets done if I don't do it), and the money is in the hands of the third worst person in the whole family when it comes to money (the worst being my grandpa who is dead, and my grandma who blows all her money on overpriced jackets and other junk)

I'm very tired, I have to teach myself how to do everything, and I have almost literally no support in any way shape or form ever

I can't remember the last time anyone said they were proud of me... I don't actually know if anyone's ever used that word with me before. When I do something like get the trailer cleaned out or buy a house, frankly no one gives a fuck, except my grandma who gets mad

I haven't actually had a chance to see anyone that counts as a friend in like 15 years, and I mean even in high school everyone liked me but no one could be bothered to actually ever even talk outside school... so even back then it's not like I had anyone I was close with

I'm providing this version where I totally remove how I feel or how I view myself from the description and instead try to provide something close to an objective description of things

So if you wonder why I say what I say about myself, honestly I think it's pretty much all summed up here