#??? i was so desperate to prove i wasn't 'gross' that i don't even know what i meant

[spiteless-xo]

for the NSFW prompt: Jean + 7 👀

yay, my first jean request!! thank you!! 🥰

sorry, i got really carried away with this one, also the "plot" is all over the place 🙏

list of prompts

╰┈➤ smut prompts - 7. “Can you guys just fuck already?”

ft. jean/fem!reader cw. unedited, not proofread, explicit sexual content (dirty talk, vaginal sex, jean's got a big dick), explicit language. 2,509 words.

you hate jean kirstein.

you absolutely cannot stand him. between his stupid smug grin and his stupid fucking mullet and all of his stupid little quips -- you don't see a world where you and jean could ever be friends.

especially not when each time he rattles your nerves, you start to feel an aching need between your thighs.

that's why it's particularly frustrating when your best friend starts dating his best friend.

"come on," mikasa urges, practically dragging you up the stairs to eren and jean's shared apartment. "it'll be fun, i promise!"

"mika, i still don't understand why i have to come. you know jean and i don't get along."

"catan is a four-player game," she sighs. "and besides, he likes you"

"he likes me?" you repeat incredulously. "do you hear what you're saying right now?"

she just smiles at you before rapping her knuckles softly on the door to their apartment. "he does," she insists. "you don't see what he's like when you're not around."

the door swings open and mikasa is snatched from the space in front of you. she squeals in delight as eren pulls her into his chest, spinning her around the small entryway to his apartment.

"hi, eren," you say, smiling politely as he litters mikasa's face with kisses.

"hey squirt," he teases, burying his face into mikasa's neck as he looks over her shoulder at you. "ready to play some games?"

mikasa and eren are in that annoying stage of their relationship where they can't seem to keep their hands off of each other. even as you follow them into the apartment, shutting the door behind you, eren keeps one hand firmly grasping her ass while she presses her cheek into his bicep.

a loud groan from the dining room interrupts your thoughts. "you didn't tell me she was coming," jean huffs.

"trust me, i didn't want to," you hiss through clenched teeth, following the lovebirds toward the dining room table where the boys have set up the game.

you settle into an open seat next to jean, scootching your chair a bit away from him and toward mikasa, who's practically sitting on eren's lap. jean casts you a dark look, taking a long sip from his beer, and you avoid his gaze by looking down at the board.

eren quickly explains the game and you begin playing. it's relatively simple, as far as boardgames go: collect resources, build roads and settlements, and collect points -- easy.

the most difficult part of the game proves to be trading resources with your fellow players. mikasa will give you anything you ask for if she has it (but she rarely does), eren haggles you to get a better deal for himself, and jean completely denies any of your requests -- which is a problem, because he's the only player that can generate brick.

"i'll give you two sheep for a brick," you offer, desperate.

"nah, i don't think so," he tsks, tapping his cards on the table as he grins at you.

frowning, you look back down at your deck. "what about a sheep, a rock, and wheat -- that's a development card."

"i know what it is," jean says, "and i'm not interested."

you huff, annoyed, and press at your temple with your fingers. "what can i give you to get you to trade me a brick?"

you see something flash across his face and just as he's opening his mouth to speak, you cut him off. "don't be gross."

"i wasn't gonna," he protests, but he's smirking at you. "i was just gonna say, that's a pretty shit deal for you -- what if i give you my wood, too?"

"ew, jean, i said, don't be gross," you hiss and he breaks out into laughter.

"how is that gross?"

"you know exactly what i mean! you're talking about your dick!"

"why are you thinking about my dick?"

"i'm not!"

mikasa sighs from beside you, hand wrapped around eren's shoulders as she plays with the tufts on hair on the nape of his neck. "you guys are making it hard to play."

"yeah, no kidding," eren sighs, looking over at you with a smirk. "do you want us to leave you two alone? if you guys fuck out all of this frustration, maybe we can actually play the game."

your eyes widen comically at eren's comment and you feel your face burning in embarrassment. "we're not going to -- i don't want to --"

you stumble around your words, panicked, as eren and mikasa give you the same look.

in your desperation, you glance over to jean. he has his cheek sucked into his mouth, jaw tight and face flushed as he looks down at the game board. why is he blushing?

"yeah, let's leave," eren decides, kissing mikasa quickly on the cheek before standing up from his seat. he helps mikasa up from hers before the two of them escape out the front door, leaving you and jean alone in the dining room.

you shake you head in confusion, still gaping in shock. "what the fuck are they thinking?" you wonder out loud, pushing your chair further away from where jean's seated. "we're not going to do that."

jean, uncharacteristically, stays quiet. he nods to himself, eyes still focused on the board before he stands up from his seat and walks over to the living room.

"they probably just wanted to go fuck," he calls from the other room. "i saw mikasa grabbing his dick under the table."

you grimace at the thought.

"come watch tv if you wanna, they won't be back for a while."

you tap your nails on the table in thought, glancing between the front door and the doorway where jean disappeared into the living room. with a heavy sigh, you get up from your seat and go to join him -- what could be the harm in that?

and of course, jean's sitting in the centre of the couch, legs sprawled open as he slumps against the seat. with a huff, you squish yourself into the far end of the couch, your knee lightly brushing against his as you do so.

"can you stop manspreading?" you hiss, and he just spreads his legs open further. "holy fuck."

"what's your problem?" he snaps.

"what's my problem?" you repeat, looking over at him incredulously. "what does that mean?"

"i mean, you're always acting like you can't fucking stand me."

"i can't."

"well, why not?"

your eyebrows raise in amusement at the opportunity to finally air your grievances to the man that's been a solid thorn in your side since you first met. you twist in your seat, facing him completely with your back against the armrest of the couch and begin to count off your fingers.

"you're always making fun of me, you always --"

"shit," he hisses, cutting you off, "i didn't think you had a list."

he almost looks hurt, so you snap your mouth shut. you lower your hands back down to your lap, suddenly feeling awkward as he looks over at you carefully.

"you really don't like me?" this time, he sounds vulnerable.

"i just think that you can be kind of mean to me, sometimes," you say quietly.

"i'm flirting with you -- you know that, right?"

you look up at him in confusion, brows furrowed, and you catch that same look on his face after eren's comment at the table: cheek sucked into his mouth with a faint blush across his cheeks.

"no, you're not."

"yes, i am," he insists with a laugh.

"well, then why are you so rude?"

"i'm not very good at flirting, i guess," he sighs, clasping his hands together behind his head as he looks over at you. "i think you're cute."

you look away quickly, feeling the burn of embarrassment on your cheeks. "uh, thanks... i think you're cute, too," you stammer, cringing from how awkward you sound.

thankfully, he laughs. "even though i'm mean to you?"

and now you feel heat flooding between your legs as you admit something that you've been keeping to yourself, all this time.

"especially, because you're mean to me."

your eyes dart up to gauge his expression and you catch his eyebrows raising into his hairline and his mouth falling open.

"well, shit, i guess i'm not that bad at flirting, after all."

you hum in response, fidgeting as jean inches closer. he wraps one arm around the back of your seat while the other presses into the armrest behind you, caging you into the couch between his long, sturdy arms.

"so what are we gonna do about it?" he asks, rolling his tongue across his lip as he looks at you.

"do about what?"

"your little crush," he teases and you roll your eyes in annoyance. "oh, come on. eren and mikasa are going to be gone for a while -- why don't you let me be mean to you a little bit more."

you swallow thickly. "what do you mean?"

"why don't you let me --" he leans in until his cheek is pressed against yours, breathing hot air against the shell of your ear as chills run down your spine. "-- bully that pretty little pussy open with my big, mean cock."

"you're always talking about your dick," you grumble, but it's half-hearted and weak.

he laughs, sliding his warm palms down your arms to your hips, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings as you squirm.

"how long have you wanted this?" he asks, eyes glinting in delight as you lift you hips up off the couch, allowing him space to slide your leggings down and off of your legs.

you offer a strangled whimper in response, embarrassed as jean holds your thighs open, looking down between your legs at your already glistening pussy.

"wow, you're so wet already," he grins. he rubs small circles with his thumb on your inner thigh as his other hand moves to his belt, undoing it deftly as he watches you squirm below him.

"a-are you sure they're not going to come back?" you ask, glancing nervously behind him at the closed door.

"maybe they will," he shrugs, and your eyes dart back in time to watch him slip a hand into his briefs. your breath catches in your throat as he pulls his thick cock out from the top of the elastic waistband and your thighs squeeze around his hips in need.

"you like that?" he laughs, stroking his length with one hand while he pushes your thighs open with the other. "god, who knew all i needed was a few minutes alone with you to get what i wanted?"

you frown up at him, but you dissolve into gasping moans when you feel the heavy weight of his cock slapping against your clit.

"think you can take me?" he coos, and you swallow thickly.

"let's find out."

jean rolls his tongue against his cheek, looking at you in amusement as he nods. "yeah, let's find out."

he slides the head of his cock against your folds, smearing a mix of your arousal and his precum as he groans.

"shit, you're so fucking wet. you really do like it when i'm mean to you, huh?"

you reach forward, grabbing jean's biceps and feeling them flex against your palms. "you're so hot," you babble mindlessly and he laughs.

"you're cute," he says, clicking his tongue as he lines the head of his cock up against your entrance. "so fucking cute."

you feel the ache of your pussy stretching around the thick head of his cock -- it's a lot -- almost too much -- but he stills inside of you, shushing you softly.

"relax," he says, his voice dipping down to just a whisper. he rocks his hips gently, nudging himself into you a bit more each time and you whimper at the feeling.

"you're so fucking tight," he groans, head dropping forward onto your shoulder as he pushes into you. he breathes hard above you, still fully clothed as you lay half-naked on the couch beneath him.

you shift your hands from his arms to his back, grabbing tight fistfuls of his shirt as he rocks his hips against you.

"more," you beg softly, just a whisper into his ear. "please."

he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, holding himself up with his forearms as he sinks a little further into you. you cry out from the stretch, legs squeezing against his hips as his cock pushes against the tight walls of your cunt.

"i'm gonna fuck this little pussy open for me," he grunts, picking up speed as he thrusts into you. "make it mine."

he slides into you completely, hips pressed flush against yours, and he pauses. your pussy clenches around his length, desperate for him to make good on his promise and you can feel him twitching inside of you in response.

"fuck," he hisses, lifting his head off of your shoulder to look down at you. "you ready?"

you blink up at him, uncertain, and he leans down to press a soft kiss into your mouth. you whimper into the kiss, hands trailing up from his back to tangle in the long strands of his stupid fucking mullet.

he takes that as a yes and you start to feel him move his hips. a slow drag backward that makes your toes curl and your back arch off the couch, before slamming forward and causing you to cry out.

"you like that?" he grunts, keeping that same pace, fucking you open the way he told you he would.

the room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the slick squelching of his cock pushing into you. you claw hard at his back, trying to ground yourself as each thrust knocks the air from your lungs.

his hands slide from your waist down to your thighs, pressing them up against your chest and folding you in half so he can fuck you even deeper.

you can't breathe -- you can hardly speak -- you can feel drool running down your chin from the way your mouth is hung open -- you're in absolute bliss.

you can feel the tightening in your gut as jean's cock hits that sensitive spot inside your cunt. you rake your nails into his back, babbling out his name incoherently in some sort of warning for your quickly-approaching orgasm.

"gonna cum?" he coos, and that's what does it for you.

with a breathless cry, you cum around his cock. your pussy clenches around him rhythmically as he keeps forcing himself into you, pounding his hips against your thighs as his balls slap against your ass.

"holy shit," he hisses, clenching his eyes shut and throwing his head back. "you're squeezing me so tight --"

with a strangled groan, he presses his hips flush against your thighs, and in the aftershocks of your orgasm, you can feel his cock twitching inside of you -- spilling hot cum against the swollen walls of your cunt as you pulse around him.

[grievedeeply]

Maybe a Glenn x reader fic where they reunite after the fall of the prison? The desperate holy shit you’re alive fluff

he had to be.

pairing: glenn rhee x gn!reader

summary: you make a beeline for terminus after the fall of the prison, determined to prove your worries about your husband's fate wrong.

notes: pre-established relationship, you don't take maggie's place— she exists in this, but isn't with glenn. this is on the shorter side, but i didn't want to drag it out too much with stuff we've already seen lol

you had lost count of how long it had been since the prison fell. all you could remember was losing track of everyone around you— their terrified faces as walkers and humans alike fled into the perimeter you had fought so hard to protect. you remembered hershel, maggie's father, the smile on his lips before he died.

you hadn't slept in days. even though sasha and bob had set up tents and traps for the walkers, you would lie down, unable to fall asleep. your thoughts were plagued with glenn's fate. what happened to him? he had to be alive. you sent him on the bus.. the bus was filled with walkers, but he wasn't one of them. he escaped. he was out there somewhere, and all you had to do was find him.

"there's a high probability of glenn being dead." you remembered sasha saying one night while she thought you were asleep. you couldn't hear bob's response. all you could picture was him. his eyes, his face. he was alive somewhere. he had to be. he was strong, smart.. braver than anyone you ever knew.

the feeling of your bag slipping down your shoulder brought you out of your mind. you hastily pulled it back up, lips pressed into a thin line as you watched the treeline. you glanced over your shoulder at bob and sasha, who both looked at you with pity in their eyes. they'd given up on glenn. you wouldn't. you couldn't.

you kicked at the rocks as you walked along the train tracks. you'd finally convinced them to go to terminus. it had taken days for sasha to give into the idea, but bob had been more lenient with your wishes. all you wanted was to know if he was alive.

you paused in front of another map, telling you that you were heading in the right direction. you swallowed. he knew that if you were going anywhere, it would be there. you thought of him, rick, michonne, maggie— everyone you cared about. you had to see them again. you had to.

from your peripheral, you saw the form of a walker coming towards you. sasha pulled out her weapon, "no," you said. "i have an idea." you said, taking out your knife. with a few large strides, you were able to reach it's head. a quick motion, and it was on the ground. you let out a sigh. that would always be scary. things could go so wrong so fast.

you kneeled down next to it, plunging your knife into it's chest and cutting down into it's stomach. it was gross, but you've seen worse living through an apocalypse. you coated your hand with it, and approached the wall that led into a nearby tunnel. you hoped he would come this way. you wished you could know, but this was better than nothing.

"glenn. come to terminus. y/n."

you took a step back, looking up at your messy writing.

god, you missed him.

"come on." you spoke up after a moment, nodding your head in the direction of the tunnel. you were going to terminus. you would meet him there, anywhere. you had to.

you wrote those same words on nearly every wall for miles. you still had a ways to go to terminus, but you were determined. you wouldn't give up on him. he was brave. he was beautiful.. oh, so beautiful. inside and out.

sasha and bob continued to trail behind you. they had shared a kiss, and you could tell that they weren't too sure what to call their relationship. it reminded you of when you had first kissed glenn. it was awkward, but peaceful. he was gentle. he always had been, even in his demeanor. it was one of the many things you loved about him.

you had never lost energy, motivated by the thought of seeing him again. you found it in you to sleep. it was the only time you were able to calm your mind, and sasha had insisted on it. over the past few days, she'd opened her mind to the possibility of glenn being alive. you weren't too sure what had changed within her, but you were glad she was thinking more positively.

"hey!" you heard the sound of an unfamiliar voice in front of you, and you aimed your gun in their direction. when your eyes focused, you saw the silhouettes of three people. a woman, and two men. "what do you want?" you called back to them, the grip on your weapon tightening. you didn't want to die. you couldn't.

"are you y/n?" you heard the same voice reply. a man's. you could see his red hair even through the bright light from the sun that fell into your vision. "who's asking?" sasha replied, voice cold and calculating.

"glenn's asking." a different voice said, the other man. he sounded considerably more monotonous than the one who'd spoke before. "glenn?" your voice softened at the mention of his name, before you refocused. these people could lie. they could've seen your messages on the tracks.

you heard the woman sigh from where she sat in the driver's seat of the military grade vehicle. "are you y/n or not? you look an awful lot like the picture."

the.. picture?

"yes. yes- i'm.. i'm y/n."

"glenn's looking for you. real desperate to find you." the woman said. "he's.. my husband. is he okay? where is he?" you replied, your voice becoming more desperate for information. "he's okay, last we saw of him. he went through a tunnel filled with walkers lookin' for ya." the redhead said.

you swallowed.

"get in already. all of ya."

you didn't hesitate, and climbed into the nearest seat. when you got into the vehicle, you were able to see your new companions clearly. you sat next to the redhead, whose mustache matched his hair and, somehow, his personality. he greeted you with a friendly smile, and a firm handshake. "i'm abraham ford. our driver here is rosita espinosa, dr. eugene porter, in the passenger."

"it's great to meet you. thank you. really." you smiled back, taking his hand before glancing back at bob and sasha, who hung onto the sides of the vehicle.

rosita put it in drive, and your throat tightened.

most of the ride was completely silent on your part, only speaking when someone spoke to you first. abraham asked you a few things about glenn, telling you that he spoke very highly of you and he seemed incredibly dedicated to finding you again. your face flushed at the thought. he was always going to put other people before himself.

"we're here." rosita told you, and you opened the door and rushed towards the tunnel. your heart pounded against your chest, you lifted your flashlight and ran in— the rest of the group following closely behind you.

the familiar sound of walkers growling filled your ears and you couldn't help but to think you were too late. as you approached, your breathing became heavier.

"duck!" abraham's voice called out from the noise, and he began firing his gun soon afterwards. you followed quickly after. he had to have seen glenn. as things calmed down, rosita and sasha began to pick off the ones the gunshots missed, and you looked around at your surroundings with a heavy heart.

"y/n?"

you turned your head, and let out a sigh of relief as you rushed toward him. "oh, glenn— baby." you whispered into his ear as his arms wrapped around you. your fingers tangled into his hair as you kissed at his jawline. "i missed you so much." he said, his voice quiet enough for only you to hear.

"missed you too. so so much." you pulled away from the hug to look into his eyes. he was covered in blood, but so were you. it didn't matter. you had him. you glanced over his shoulder at the woman he'd been shielding, and you smiled over at her.

"oh," glenn laughed, "tara, this is y/n. y/n, tara. she saved my life."

without hearing another word, you stepped forwards and brought her into a hug. "thank you." you chuckled. your eyes welling up with tears. there were still good people out there. she was only proving it. she said nothing for a few moments, "you don't have to thank me."

"you helped bring him back to me. thank you."

she pursed her lips, but smiled. "you're welcome." she turned on her heel, leaving the two of you alone again.

"they.. said you had the picture."

glenn's hand reached into his pocket, and he nodded. "it's the only picture i have of you." you couldn't help but to laugh, and you took his hands in yours. "let's burn it."

"what?"

"you won't need it anymore. we won't be apart again." you told him, an unmatched confidence in your voice. you couldn't pull your eyes away from him. you lifted your hands to his face, thumbs gently running over his skin.

he smiled, gaze soft as he stared into your eyes. "yeah, okay, sweetheart."

without another word, he pulled you back into his arms, pressing his lips to the side of your head.

he wouldn't need it anymore.

tags: @spaghettto @kitkatscabinet @luna-charlie @hayleethefrog | join my taglist!

[whumpshaped]

first

idk what to say this got entirely out of hand. i just spent last night and this morning typing this out on my phone in a daze, trying to get to a point where i could finally cut it off

tw needles, stitches, fear of friend dying, just a high stress situation altogether

Surprisingly, Caretaker proved to be very good at pushing personal differences aside for Whumpee's sake, even taking some orders from Whumper without snarky remarks.

"Maybe we should stay friends," Whumper said casually. "We make a pretty good team. At least when you're quiet."

Caretaker could swear they felt their eye twitch. "Imagine how good of a team we'd make if both of us were quiet."

"You're right. I also feel like we've gotten close enough to understand each other without words."

"Could you shut the fuck up?" they snapped, before immediately taking a deep, calming breath, directing their eyes back to the wound. "We both want them alive, right? So let me focus."

"I don't know. I'm starting to think I don't care that much about them."

Caretaker's eyes snapped to Whumper again, despite them desperately trying to work out the suture situation. "I will fucking kill you if you don't stop fucking around. I swear. And if Whumpee dies, I'll also kill you. You will not leave this stupid place alive unless Whumpee is okay."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," they said with a self-assured smile. "I'm just saying-"

"Don't. Don't say anything."

If sewing their best friend back together wasn't stressful enough, Caretaker could feel Whumper's gaze on them the entire time. Obviously, they must've been joking. And obviously, this was just another attempt to get on their nerves. But they were almost done, and Whumpee was almost stable.

"It's admirable, the way you handled this," Whumper remarked once the stitches were all in place and they could catch their breath. "I wonder how many people would let their friend die just out of spite. On principle. Because they wouldn't take orders from me, wouldn't trust me-"

"Just two minutes. Can I just have two minutes in peace?" Caretaker buried their face in their hands, feeling like they were about to cry. The anxiety and adrenaline was catching up to them. "You're seriously starting to sound like you're flirting with me or something. It's gross. Shut up. Leave us alone."

Caretaker didn't look up, hoping that if they didn't acknowledge Whumper, they'd just disappear. And it worked. No more comments, not for several minutes. They could almost imagine it was just the two of them again, them and Whumpee. And when the silence was finally broken, it was in a way they'd never expected.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I talk when I'm nervous."

They scoffed, raising their head to look at Whumper- only to find that they really did look pretty spent. "Wait, are you serious? What the fuck were you nervous about?"

"I told you, I wanted them alive. Throughout this whole ordeal, I had no idea if we could actually pull it off. I was fucking nervous the whole time."

"And our legendary duel is still yet to come."

"Oh, no, god no." They put up both hands in a lighthearted gesture of surrender. "I'm done. This was enough excitement for today. You actually complied with me to save them, I guess that's like... proof of your golden heart and whatever, and the power of friendship, and I was actually just testing you all along, and... whatever else your fairy godmother would say."

"So you're just... letting us leave?"

"Yeah. I'm done. I'm exhausted. You promise you won't try to press charges, I promise I won't come after you."

"What?" Caretaker wanted to argue. Of course they were going to press charges. But right now... Whumper didn't have to know that. "I mean- that's... kinda scummy, but... yeah, sure, fine."

Whumper nodded. They didn't even question their answer. Instead, they vaguely gestured towards where they sat. "Can I sit with you? The rocks are digging into my ass, and it's really uncomfortable."

"If you stay quiet."

They pretended to zip up their mouth, scooting over to take the rockless space next to Caretaker in complete silence.

Caretaker had no idea what to think at this point. The stress of the rescue, the gunshot, being found... being on high alert the entire time, while also being laserfocused on saving Whumpee's life... having to work together with the fucker who caused all of it... They were tired. And as much as they hated to admit, the experience sort of... humanised Whumper in their mind. This guy wasn't a vicious torturer. They were a disturbed idiot, apparently more than capable of some stage-fright, who was still willing to threaten them into somehow giving expert first aid.

Right now, Whumper was just resting like anyone else would be after a huge operation. It must've been the exhaustion, but for a brief moment, Caretaker thought they really could've been friends. In another life. One in which they didn't kidnap Whumpee.

"Stop staring. It makes me nervous. And if I get nervous, I'll just start blabbering, and you don't want-"

"Fine, jeez. Go to therapy, sort out your weird anxiety. And the other stuff."

This too, this weird banter. It was too human. Since when did they feel comfortable enough to say shit like that to Whumper? An hour ago they had been terrified. And why wasn't Whumper retaliating?

More minutes passed in silence, with Caretaker constantly checking whether Whumpee was awake yet. Whumper didn't want to leave until they saw that Whumpee really was okay, and Caretaker wouldn't have let them anyway. 'You will not leave this stupid place alive unless Whumpee is okay.' That was what they'd said, and they meant it.

"Why aren't they waking up?" Caretaker asked impatiently. "It's been a while already."

Whumper turned around to see Whumpee in the same position they'd left them in. "Touch the wound for me."

"What?"

"Either you touch it or I do. See if it's a little too warm."

Caretaker didn't have the energy to argue. Besides, Whumper didn't seem like they were joking, and if possible, Caretaker would've like to avoid them touching Whumpee any more than necessary. They crawled a little closer, gently placing a hand on top of the skin around the wound. "It's pretty warm."

"See if they have a fever."

Caretaker moved their hand to Whumpee's forehead and cheeks, grimacing at the unnatural warmth. "Fuck. Fuck. Of course it'd get infected! Why did we even do this outside?"

"Where else? Did you want to do it in my house?"

"No! We should've called an ambulance! You should've let me call one!" They turned around, their rage completely reignited.

"I'm not letting you call others onto my property," Whumper said calmly. Of course. How could they forget, for even a moment? Whumper was still a fucking monster. "We can bring them inside, clean the wound again, and give them some medicine." When Caretaker opened their mouth to argue, they added, "That's the final offer."

"I thought we were a team now. Friends. Whatever the fuck." They hated how the desperation came through in their voice, despite all their efforts to hide it.

"That's why I'm offering to help treat them in my home. And also because I can't just drag them there alone. Again, it's... a two-men job."

Caretaker took less time to think about accepting this way riskier type of help than the first time, when it was just treating a gunshot wound and some other injuries out in the open. Was Whumper getting in their head? Subtly conditioning them to trust their stupid suggestions? They didn't have time to analyse their behaviour. Or did they? Maybe it wasn't even as urgent as Whumper was making it seem. No, that was dumb, of course an infection was urgent. God, they needed rest, they needed their brain to be working.

"Fine, okay, just- just don't let them die. I can't watch them die. I just got them back-"

"Whether they live or die is entirely dependent on you. I'm giving you all the help I can, actually."

Caretaker groaned in frustration. "Don't phrase it like that. Like I just need to accept all this graciously offered, professional help. I don't even know if the infection was caused by an earnest mistake or you. Maybe you want to lure me inside! Maybe-"

"Caretaker." Whumper's stern voice made them stop mid-conspiracy. "The sooner we catch the infection, the better. Come on."

While they were bringing Whumpee back into their personal house of horrors, Caretaker couldn't help but feel extremely uneasy. This felt like a mistake, on every level. And why was Whumper scolding them like they were nothing but a petulant child? Their concerns were entirely valid! Reasonable!

They wanted to fucking explode. This entire day was a mindfuck, and they just didn't have the mental energy to stay on top of everything all the time. They desperately needed someone to lean on, someone to trust... and Whumper seemed to be changing up their stupid personality to fit whatever Caretaker wanted at the time, making it way too easy to give in and just blindly trust their help, even if that went against every single rational thought in their head.

Manipulating them.

Caretaker rubbed their eyes, trying to focus on cleaning the wound again, this time with better equipment, in a more sterile environment. They just had to stay vigilant.

Quite vigilant of you to accept this offer, and come into the lion's den of your own accord. And bring Whumpee, injured, unconscious, and defenceless.

They couldn't beat themself up for it now. They had to focus. They'd beat themself up for it later.

"Not that it counts from me," Whumper's voice startled them, and they almost dropped the cotton pad, "but we both have limited options here. It's quite the shitshow, and I don't think either of us are very happy with the set-up."

"Okay, Mother Teresa."

"Oh, shut up. I just hate to watch you work with that stupid, kicked puppy face. I'm just telling you to save the fucking self-loathing for later. You're clearly trying your best to help them."

Vigilant. They had to stay vigilant. They couldn't let the fucking enemy's aggressive positive feedback fill their heart with warmth and security. They couldn't. It didn't even make them want to smile, not even a little. Their perpetual scowl was very well protected from such attacks.

God, what was wrong with them?

They looked at Whumpee's blissfully unconscious face, wondering if this entire thing would mean the end of their friendship. But there was no one else around to help... Their friendship would've ended with Whumpee's death too. At least now there was a chance...

"See, that's why I said what I said. But now you're crying anyway, so really, what was the point," Whumper grumbled.

"Yeah, well, maybe try having feelings sometime, see how you get on," they shot back, petty insult made even more pathetic by their sniffling. "Just leave me alone. I'm tired of your stupid act. I can finish this alone."

"Yeah. But I won't let you." Whumper pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, taking a seat across from where Caretaker stood. "It's not like I don't trust you... it's just, you know... I don't trust you."

"I trusted you this whole fucking time, despite you causing all of this!"

"Trusted me enough to leave me alone with Whumpee?"

Caretaker had to hold themself back from punching the nearest wall. "No! No. No, obviously not. Fuck you. Fuck you."

"You should start thinking about what your plan is for the night, because you clearly need some sleep." Whumper tilted their head to the side. "Unless you plan on taking this to the next level, and keeping watch in turns."

Tears of genuine sorrow and heartbreak were mixing with helpless anger as Caretaker thought more and more about the situation they'd ended up in. They finished changing the bandages, placing a damp cloth on Whumpee's forehead to help bring down their fever, then pulled out another chair to sit. They wiped the tears away, trying their best to look less like a complete mess on the brink of another meltdown.

"I've stayed up for longer just to finish videogames," they said as casually as they could manage. "I can stay up for something actually important."

Whumper grinned, clearly expecting them to pass out within the next hour. "Suit yourself."

~

@ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump

[tobiasdrake]

So. Looks like that's the final truth.

And it sucks. I don't want to reap their souls. I already felt bad about reaping the Priest earlier because. Like. In a city this corrupt, murder is the only justice people can receive. I get that. I get why the Priest did it. And the one victim that had me going, "Wait, no, gross," wasn't his doing. So that left a sour taste in my mouth.

This is about ten times worse. What Waruna, Yoshiko, and Kurane did doesn't feel all that wrong. Karen killed their friend, stole her spotlight and her prestige, and the Peacekeepers shrugged their shoulders and went, "Meh."

She got away scot free, then got the big fancy lead position guaranteeing her a bright and prosperous future forevermore. There will be no justice. There will be no closure. This is a town where monsters prosper and victims can only be stepped on. This is Capitalism Town.

They turned to murder because there was no other recourse available to them, and they couldn't bear to let their bestie's killer live happily ever after on a mountain of money and fame for it. They did nothing wrong. This is what you have to do when you live in a place as despicable as Kanai Ward.

I don't know if they would. These girls aren't evil. They're damaged. Driven to extremes by desperation and powerlessness in a city that hung them out to dry. This doesn't feel right.

Oh, shut up. You're just a hungry predator. Your opinion has no value here.

You shut up too. Citing the WDO creed isn't helping. Both because it's creepy, and also because you have no frame of reference for the context here. You don't know that we're talking about slaying these girls for seeking justice for a murdered friend.

This is a crime that should forever remain unsolved. The kind of situation where the Great Detective would go, "Mm, can't seem to find an answer to this one. Pity," then turn on his heel and walk out.

The only reason we can't do that is because Amaterasu wants to arrest Kurumi for it. The plot is literally holding a gun to Kurumi's head and saying, "Murder this trauma victims or the blorbo GETS IT!"

Prove to who, Yuma? You might be slow on the uptake but it's pretty clear that justice is dead in Kanai Ward.

Man, even Desuhiko gets it! This outcome sucks. We're not combatting Amaterasu; We're joining them in corruption and victimization. We're kicking Amaterasu's victims while they're down. Picking off the wounded that Amaterasu's cruelty leaves behind.

I think I hate this case. We're supposed to be combatting the evil corporation but instead we're doing their dirty work. Amaterasu destroys lives and ruins families, and then we swoop in to punish their victims for lashing out. This is a disgusting perversion of justice.

[bmwiid]

So I figured something out today, which kinda surprised me BECAUSE it surprised me.

I'm super depressed.

Like duh, I've been depressed for ages, and I'm on medication for it and I'm obviously... you know.... depressed?

I've been here for ages and it's like a real thing.

but for some reason I was sitting here just watching Abby procraftinate (like procrastinate but with crafts) and have a wee mental breakdown, and I was like....

Fuck me I'm actually depressed and it's kinda fucking up my life right now.

Like I'm actively fucking up my life right now.

I figured cause I no longer want to, you know, kill myself, I was doing really okay!

And then I kinda just looked around and looked at myself and realized that I'm.... just fucking up with everything ELSE.

Like you don't wanna kill yourself, which is great, but when was the last time to changed your clothes or washed or left the house or even pretended to clean?

Like... I'm just gross and hating myself and being unable to actually do anything because I'm working and it takes SO MUCH energy.

And recently I've been sewing SO much and it just hit me watching Abby. I'm procraftinating. I'm pouring all my leftover energy to make things because I'm so desperate for SOMETHING I can point to like... I'm not ruining my life! Could a depressed person make this? FFS.

And I don't know what to do.

I don't know how not to be like this now. I wasn't like this last year. I wasn't GREAT but....

I really think not having mum has been not great for me. Sure, having her HERE was fucking hard, and absolutely helped with the "I'd like to die now" but...

I had to do things. I had to leave the house, and had to go to the shops, and I had to... I dunno... be the one holding it together to prove she wasn't?

I had to find excuses NOT to be at her beck and call, you know? I can't come over right now, I'm in the bath, I'm cleaning, I'm cooking...

and I don't have that now.

I weirdly miss my mum. And I feel SUPER weird cause I miss her being ANNOYING. I miss her needing me to do things for her, because it made me.... do things for me?

I'm not alone. I know I'm not. I've got Bo and her hubby, who kinda helped me figure out I'm fucking my life over a bit the other day.

He came over a couple of weeks ago to take my rubbish to the tip ( my neck is fucked, I can't currently lift all the trash I generate) and he said the other night when I was video chatting with Bo: "You can't be living like that" and I was like...

fuck, your right.

One thing I HATED about mum was that she wasn't living, she was just waiting to die and I think it might just be genetic.

I'm really struggling. Not because I want to kill myself, but because I don't want to do all the things that makes a person a person.

[fangirlandiknowit101]

Hello! I just wanted to say that your fic the sun within me was the only fic I read that got naruto's character spot on when it comes to internalized homophobia and I really appreciate it 🥲. I feel like it was quite telling that in the manga naruto was the only character that would overreact to anything gay. When kakashi said he likes naruto, when naruto went to a bathhouse with sai and yamato, when he backtracked after complimenting sasuke's looks, when he was angsting over sasuke and sai/sakura asked him what he was thinking about he said a date with sakura even though he was actually thinking about sasuke, when kurama brings up that sasuke was his only kiss, no one reacted like something gay/gross was happening except naruto. I've seen people use this as proof that naruto isn't gay, but I think it was the opposite. There's just too many romantic tropes in the manga for it to be a coincidence and I really felt like you understood naruto and sasuke's bond when i read your fic. It felt like I was actually reading about naruto and sasuke and how they'd view sexuality. Usually I don't really feel this way when reading fanfiction that takes place in canon universe because authors never bring up the fact that naruto is suffering from internalized homophobia and go right into him and sasuke getting together and sasuke is usually a confident gay guy with some experience. I don't have a problem with this but it was so refreshing to read something that was so close to what they'd be like in the manga so thank you 😊

(I'm not sure if I just haven't found fics that got their characters so right or what but i wouldn't mind if someone could point me in the right direction 🙈)

Hi!

Thank you so much, that's a lot of high praise💖💖💖

I agree with you, the way Naruto reacted is just... I really wonder what Kishi was thinking when he wrote it. I guess we'll never know for sure, but to me all those scenes where Naruto makes exaggerated excuses and very loudly denies things that the others seem to find not-at-all romantic or sexual, but clearly HE worries that it does, really makes it seem like he's suffering from a lot of internalized homophobia. Either that or he'd have to be just straight up homophobic, since no one else reacts like him. Take the scene where Konohamaru transforms into the Sai/Sasuke sandwich. Sakura reacts with a nosebleed right? So homosexuality or at least some version of porn with same-sex couples have to exist, otherwise she wouldn't react like she's seen it before. Whether that was just thrown in for fanservice or whatever, it's still there in the canon manga. Naruto really embodies the "we can't allow gay marriage bc then every guy would just marry a guy and the population will die out" mindset lmao.

It makes sense that Naruto won't let himself think of Sasuke (consciously) in romantic terms in the manga, even taking out Kishi's reasons for writing it and the fact that it's shounen and "supposed to be straight and the hero gets the girl in the end". Many people have pointed out that if you switch Sasuke's gender to a girl, it's all incredibly romantic and there would be zero discourse on them being the certain end couple. There are only so many times a character can cross the "bromance" line and backtrack as if afraid people will notice without being interpreted as gay and in heavy denial about it. But Naruto is a character who desperately wants to fit in, even though he can't give up on the things important to him despite those things making him fit in less. If he gave up on Sasuke, he'd get more approval. But instead he's obsessively determined to bring him back. Of course, the story wouldn't be as good if he wasn't, but it makes a lot more sense if he loves Sasuke. (And I think in canon it's clear that he does love Sasuke, but you can't really say "here's a line that proves he loves him in a gay way")

And I don't mean "he's got a crush on Sasuke". Sakura had a crush on Sasuke and no one thought it was weird that she tried to bring him back, despite having very little connection aside from being teammates. But Naruto, who already at that age had a really deep connection with Sasuke, was constantly treated by others as if his feelings of friendship were easily dismissable. All of that is very strange unless you think of it from Konoha's perspective: A: no one took Sakura seriously so there was no point discouraging her much, also she wasn't an important asset to the village (didn't risk losing the kyuubi) B: no one ever dreamt in their wildest fantasies that Naruto felt anything other than shallow teammate feelings for Sasuke and couldn't even begin to understand why he needed to chase after him C: Kakashi actually understood everything and was too traumatized to do anything about it.

As for Sasuke and sexuality, I just don't see him thinking much about it bc he just expected to die fighting Itachi. And then suddenly he has to navigate life back in the village... I don't think he would expect Naruto's feelings to be romantic in any sense because I think he simply wouldn't consider it. Why would he? And he doesn't seem like the person to go out and sleep around with people in Konoha, of all places... So I don't think he would have any experience, at least not at that age, and therefore not come to any conclusions about his own sexuality.

I don't mind reading other things either! But when writing a canon fic these are things that really stand out to me about their relationship. So it's always nice to hear that someone else feels the same way🥰

And if anyone has any recs I'd love that too!

[matcha-teh]

I <3 NY

I had recently gone on a trip to New York City to watch my uncle run the New York City Marathon. It was his first marathon and my first time back in NYC since 2017.

I've avoided going to NYC for the longest time because I hated the city. With its crowds, dirty subway, and ceaseless noise, I could just barely hear myself think. I preferred cities like Boston and Los Angeles — big enough to not run into acquaintances all the time (unlike Providence), but not quite NYC-level of insanity. I could go to museums (MFA in Boston and LACMA in NYC) and find great restaurants (to be fair, the NYC food scene is overrated). My friends and tell me: "but, New York has that something!" I've struggled to find out what that "something" is.

During the five hour bus ride from Providence to New York, I wasn't sure if I was ready to visit the city again. After all, it's the site of multiple high-profile anti-Asian hate crimes and the epicenter of COVID-19 cases in the early days of the pandemic. My mom and I got off the bus at Penn Station and braved Time Square, I thought: "of course, it's gross. It's NYC."

The day before the marathon, I caught up with some college buddies in SoHo. We were supposed to meet up at this matcha cafe, but, on the way there, I got lost. There were two branches of the same franchise in SoHo and I went to the other one. I ran from one end of SoHo to another, past luxury shops, street dealers, and some people who looked like super models. I ran and ran and ended up falling in love with NYC. To confront the streets by myself, to make my way around the city against the backdrop of light passing through fall foliage.

My friends all went to NYC to chase their ambitions: work for a big design company, land a prestigious internship, find love, etc. I had wanted to move to NYC for the same reasons, before coming to terms with the fact that the city wasn't a good fit for me. Moving back to Manila after my stint in the US proved difficult. I suffered from the most intense FOMO of not moving to a major American city after graduation. I resigned myself to enjoying my hometown's warm weather and hanging onto the sliver of hope that I could go to NYC and "make it."

I maneuvered my way around slow-walking tourists and construction workers. I realized that I had set the wrong expectations for New York.

I arrived twenty minutes late to the hang-out. But hey, that's expected in NYC where trains randomly stop working and streets close for events. We had fun looking at all the things we would never spend money on in SoHo.

My friends had changed and grown so much. In the past, they laid all these careful plans on how they'd go up the corporate ladder at an NYC firm and how much money they'd make. Now, they openly admitted to not knowing what their next step is, not knowing if they want to stay in NYC long-term.

I've since let go of the New York FOMO. I like my life in Manila. I made new friends, established the foundation of my career, and found new hobbies. I also get to spend as much time with my family and have time for myself. I don't chase chase crazy goals as desperately as I did before. I take my time to have my morning cup of coffee.

The old adage goes "if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere."

I believe the reverse to be more accurate: if you can't make it anywhere, you can't make it in New York. Life and excitement just don't suddenly start when we get off the plane at JFK or get off the bus at Penn Station.

While NYC teems with opportunity, some you may never even get, it take an impressive willpower to focus on savoring the breeze in your hair on a way to having a meal with friends.

[tears-of-boredom]

So it was some kind of show, someone had this real bad cut on their thigh in the shape of a fancy cross. Turns out that the person who acted like it was horrible inflicted it, and started adding cuts with the same cross to their body. I started fighting the inflicting person with this small knife that has become pretty familiar to me in my dreams. We just kind of took turns trying to hit each other with it. Then it changes so I'm fighting my mother. Neither of us have hit the other yet. Mom tells her boyfriend to bring her "retro weapons", swap out "retro" for "improvised" and you get the actual meaning. When he doesn't get what kind of weapons, she yells to just bring ski poles. He brings them and she starts to try and stab me with those. This whole time we've kind of been in a stairway thing with a door. I use the door and try and grab the ski poles from my mom's grasp and put them out of her reach. This one with a strawberry picture on it scrapes my leg, and I yell at her how she's actually physically hurting me. She just laughs like it's obvious she's trying to hurt me (it kind of was). I yell about how mothers don't usually want to hurt their child. She speaks like she has no other option, and like I'm well aware that she has no option. It's probably called sneering what she does. Doesn't seem all that desperate, like a mother killing their child should be. That's when I start to cry, and then promptly I woke up also crying.

I suppose I did attack her first, but I remember how she has said few times in the past how she would jump off a roof, just to prevent harm to us(her children) being done. I know that in the dream she had more crazy stepmother vibes than my actual mother has. I remembered the feeling of her keeping my legs down so I don't kick her. That was a gross feeling. I only ever kicked her because I didn't want her to come close to me or touch me. Those were the times when I didn't go to school for almost a whole year, because I just stayed in my bed. Usually staying in my bed, in my mind, proved something to my mother. She always said that going to school only hurt me. I wanted to show her that it hurt her as well. Eventually it got to the point where I didn't have the will power to go to school even if I wanted to. I was always more energetic in the morning when I knew I didn't have to go to school. It always pissed me off how, some rare times when I would be able to go to school, my mom would of course say she's proud of me. But as soon as I didn't continue to go there, she acted like me lasting a day in school doesn't mean anything. I was always thinking "At least I go to school. Yeah not often, but I'm also not ditching every single day." I made it to the next grade because I could study from home. Next school year it got bad again, and I genuinely wasn't going to school at all. Then I was thinking "At least I'm eating, at least I'm getting up from bed.". I don't really remember the specific reasons as to why I had such a hard time going to school. I didn't struggle with being around people, I didn't struggle at doing my school work that largely either. When I finally, successfully, started going to school full-time, I had dropped doing homework fully. I think it was just a thing I at first didn't do, in case my "school energy" ran out again (I don't know what else to call it. I just didn't have the energy to leave for school in the mornings, whether it be physical or mental energy.). Then when I continued to go to school, I think I tried doing homework at some point. It just never worked out that well. I started forgetting to do it at all, and at some point, I made a conscious desicion to drop it as a whole, always leaving my books at school. Sometimes I'd get random spurts of motivation and I'd bring a book back to study for a test or something. Later I took a habit of carrying the test related books always in my backpack, just in case I get the motivation burst at home and want to study. Hardly ever did I use the books I brought home.

I've convinced myself this summer that I can get really good grades, and that I can do my homework, and study for tests. I don't think I'm going into marine biology anymore, because it's the historic part of it that interested me anyways. I'll see which school I get into. I'll probably study history, even if the mandatory studies have ran out by then. History can be interesting. Sometimes teachers just teach it in the wrong way.

[arielmagicesi]

been looking through old posts and I just want everyone to know, if you see an old post of mine where I have a bunch of caveats being like “but I’m not a gross cringe freak about this obviously, I’m the smart cool version of this, I’m doing this thing with full knowledge of all the serious problems that come with being gross and cringe” I just want everyone to know I was lying. I am a gross cringe freak. and don’t think for a second I’m not <3

[geminil0vr]

food for thought | draco malfoy

summary; after spending the night of the yule ball with renowned slytherin, draco malfoy, you catch his eye at breakfast. the boy seems to be hell-bent on seeing into your thoughts, and so you let him — but now you think he might've seen too much.

tagged; @partr1dge <3

word count; 1k give or take a few words maybe like exactly 23 idk i don't have specifics

content; use of legilimency and occlumency, sexual themes, choking if you use a magnifying glass, i really came for draco's childhood trauma + mental issues... my apologies, mentions of love (gross but also will they, won't they?).

a/n; this is a rewrite of "last night", something shitty i made ages ago !! anyway absolutely brilliant title god my mind is so powerful ugh </3 food ??? breakfast. for ??? thought??? occlumency, legilimency !!! i'm so sorry, i rewrote pretty much every word (including this authors note, is it that obvious?) at 5:30 am, it's not amazing, but i'm sleep deprived and on my period so safe to say i did tear up for absolutely no reason.

you and draco both said that you'd never speak of what ensued in his dormitory the night of the yule ball. and you obliged. and you both swore it would never happen again. and you nodded your head. it was a mutual, meaningful agreement, and post-orgasm, it had seemed like a brilliant idea. no consequences, no ties between you two, being from different houses.

but it was extremely difficult to stick to your word when your legs still ached from the night before.

and his breathy groans, hot air fanning over your ear as he railed into you senselessly, wouldn’t push out of your mind.

and the bruises trailing down from your neck to your waistline were constant reminders of his tongue tracing over them, blowing on them, teasing you to all hell.

every time you blinked, the images flashed beneath your eyelids.

every time you inhaled, you missed his hand squeezing over your throat, restricting air.

and merlin, any slight brush against your own skin made you jump, thinking of his body on yours, skin on skin, sweat, clammy hands, your arched back, the veins in his hands, his jaw, his collarbones.

in the great hall, you made your way to your table for breakfast alone, and gnawed at your bottom lip while playing around with the food on your plate, famished, yet still so full of racing thoughts and fresh memories. his hands on your thighs, the way he sighed your name, your nails digging into his back, leaving little crescent moons over it, and his shoulders, and his hips, too. again and again and again.

looking up from your plate to scan the empty room, your eyes met draco’s ones, his irises a stormy grey, pupils dilated, and you inhaled sharply, looking away. you'd gotten up early, as if it would stop suspicion rising if you seemed like you hadn't had a long night. it seemed as if he'd done that too, sat alone just the same.

merlin, you could feel the burn of his gaze, it made your body freeze and your cheeks heat up. he was looking right at you, right into you. you could feel it, the thumping at your temple that wouldn't cease, the throbbing behind your eyelids. he was attempting to penetrate into your thoughts.

as if he hadn't penetrated enough of you within the twenty-four hours, for fucks sake.

in need of a distraction, you turned your attention to the fork still lazily dancing across your plate, the cold handle twirling beneath your fingertips. it didn't feel fair, what he'd done to you. turning you into a mess, mind hazy. giving you a taste, then taking it away immediately, albeit that being exactly what you'd agreed on. and although he really had given you absolutely everything the night before (or rather, this morning), it still felt like a neverending tease, with all that need careening through your veins.

swallowing harshly, you straightened up in your seat, pulling at the hem of your skirt, playing with a loose, dark thread. christ, he was still trying. the headache never seemed to stop, so persistent, so demanding, a feeling you knew well through conversations with dumbledore. but this headache clouded your mind, unforgiving, begging to be let through. it wasn't asking for permission.

looking up once again, keeping your body still and your breath steady, you stared right back. taught ruthlessly by your grandmother, you'd always kept your mind shut from peering intruders. yet he was so fearlessly determined that you could feel it through his magic, snaking its way right through you, searching for any slight weaknesses in your armour. a strand of white hair fell over his forehead as he tilted his head slightly, jaw clenching. he wasn't giving up.

draco malfoy always had something to prove. he was always so sure of his own success, so much to the point of insecurity, of doubt. it was a troubling mix of brashness, arrogance, and cowardice sprouting from the child rooted deep inside him, desperate for assurance and acceptance.

but it wasn't your pity that led you to allow him to break through.

it was your need for him to know something you weren't so sure you could admit verbally. you were thinking of him. that was all.

so, you stared straight into the silver of his eyes and let him right in.

his hands digging into your hips. the sheen of sweat over his entire body, glistening. the faint bruises he left on your wrists. you begging him to go harder.

him obliging.

his eyes were clouded over, as if in a trance, flitting through your memories.

but using legilimency was as much a curse as it was a blessing. because he could feel everything you felt too. the lust, the want, the pain filtering through the pleasure. and he could feel every little thing you'd noticed about him; the mole above his left knee, and the other on his waist, and the few freckles beneath his eyes, and the scar he had just above his eyebrow that you'd never really noticed until you'd tipsily placed wet kisses over his hairline.

for what felt like hours, you let him in, until he decided he'd had enough.

he was blinking quickly, brows furrowed, pale cheeks now flushed pink. he clumsily stood up from the slytherin table, pushing aside his plate of food, and stormed, flustered, out of the room, much like the boy who'd kissed you the night before. all tongue and teeth, all desperation, all emotion. but it was just for the one night. that was all.

and you felt foolish.

because you realised, he'd felt everything.

that in those moments, you thought you might've even loved him.

the boy, all tongue, and teeth, and hands, all pale skin, all desperation. it was certainly something entirely worthy of love.

[redphlox]

Tenko's tears; Touya's wounded inner child

As I've mentioned before, crying serves various purposes, two of which include emotional regulation and forming social connections. Tears signal "I'm sad and I need help" and usually elicit concern from others. But, for Touya and Tenko, tears didn't fulfill these needs. When Tenko cried, the adults around him tried to distract him from his pain or change how he responded to his abuse instead of defending him or confronting his father Kotaro. They meant well, but in the end it didn't help Tenko and he felt alone. No one validated his pain; he was seen, but he wasn't helped. The same thing happened to Touya, who was seen crying, and crying, and crying, but his parents refused to acknowledge the root cause of his pain because it would mean facing their own mistakes. His tears, his cries for help, never got him the help he needed and never made him feel better.

Even as adults, Dabi and Shigaraki weren't listened to because they didn't display socially acceptable feelings such as sorrow or regret, and they weren't dealing with their trauma in a socially acceptable way, like crying. Shigaraki told Endeavor, in front of Deku and Bakugo, that heroes only hurt their families, but it wasn't until Deku saw a glimpse of Tenko that Deku decided Shigaraki was worth saving because little Tenko’s tears humanized him and made him relatable.

While this is a turning point in the manga, the way it came about insinuates that certain unspoken conditions exist that need to be filled before victimhood can be validated or someone is deemed worthy of help. Not everyone is equal, and not everyone's pain will be good enough in hero society. This warrants the questions the League of Villains keep asking: who are heroes here to save? Who is it that needs saving? Where do you draw the line? Are villains not people too?

This new plot point of Deku being moved by Tenko’s tears also brings into light how isolating and demonizing it is for Dabi not being physically able to cry. He compensates for this – because remember, crying regulates your emotions, and if you can’t cry you turn to other coping mechanisms for self-soothing – by telling himself and others that he doesn’t care about anything or anyone. He copes with his emotions by smiling and grinning, by not getting too attached. He takes an offensive approach through keeping a distance from people by insulting them and being rude. However, his quirk’s link to his emotions betrays him and exposes his true feelings: his flames became hotter after Twice died and his flames turned white while confronting Endeavor. Dabi, despite everything, still cares and feels deeply.

So, how is Dabi supposed to be seen and understood and saved if he can’t prove that he has feelings if he can't cry? Why would he even want to cry, since crying never helped him? All Touya did from the age of four was cry for help, literally, and yet he was ignored and neglected. It wasn't Shigaraki's words that moved Deku, it was the unintended display of emotion through crying, which is something Dabi can't do even if he wanted because his tear ducts are burnt as a result of being so heartbroken over his father not showing up to Sekoto Peak. The irony is ugly and upsetting to witness – overwhelming feelings of abandonment and worthlessness almost killed Dabi ten years ago and now, when the story implies he desperately needs to cry to be seen, he can't, and therefore he's still alone and will continue to be alone.

But wait – he cries tears of blood, doesn’t he?

I think that if he’s caught in a vulnerable place, if the right people (Natsuo) meet him or if he is finally validated and seen and understood (Shouto), those tears of blood would come out and he’d finally be eligible (as gross as that sounds) for salvation, for understanding, for sympathy like Shigaraki. Feelings serve as evidence to society that villains are human too, and Dabi must first be considered a human. It seems that salvation, like the attention Touya received from his father, is conditional. Touya's wounded inner child and status as an abuse survivor will be the ticket to his redemption IF he can be vulnerable and express his pain physically to the younger generation of heroes, because talking about his past hasn't helped and won't help. Even now, as noted in 304, people still weren't sure why he became a villain even though he literally explained why in his pre-recorded broadcast. Dabi, or his inner child, has to show evidence he is still emotionally suffering because his words won't suffice for society or heroes. Honestly, this framing is personally distressing and frustrating because it pushes a bad victim vs good victim mentality, especially in light of Rei commenting that Shouto, who she burnt and forgave her nonetheless, is their family's hero.

Don't get me wrong. Shouto has done nothing wrong to warrant this suffering, and I think it's great that Deku is determined to save everyone within his reach. This makes sense as his role as protagonist. With that said, it's unsettling to me how drastically different he's reacting to Shigaraki compared to how he responded to Dabi by comparing him to Endeavor and implying Dabi is worse for not trying to be better. Before anyone jumps down my throat, I know Deku intervened because he was worried about Shouto, and that Deku is 16 and young. My point is that the narrative and the writing is setting up a problematic view of victims by having the main character nitpick who deserves to be saved based on this societal construct that people must first qualify or prove themselves. Shigaraki shouldn't have had to show his trauma receipts or be relatable for Deku to want to save him. Shigaraki didn’t even expose his inner child on purpose – Deku caught a glimpse of that without Shigaraki’s intention.

Let me say this another way. Imagine if you had to present yourself as sympathetic to a firefighter, an ambulance worker, or a doctor before receiving their help. It would be unprofessional and highly unethical for these professionals to turn you down because you don't fit the image of someone who needs help, someone who's not "sick" enough, whose house isn't burning hot enough, whose injuries aren't "bad" enough. So why do heroes, as a group of public servants, have these unwritten rules and preconceived notions about what a victim looks like? I understand that people are more likely to provide services if you're nice to them (you catch more flies with honey, etc) and that everyone has biases etc, but this isn't a core value of the helping professions or public servants. It's unethical to discriminate and assign varying levels of care based on how someone treats you or others around them. People in need are people in need, and that's that.

As of now, it seems like the manga is on route to support the League's complaints by supplying evidence that their disillusionment with society isn't unfounded - even Twice, who died crying at the hands of a hero part of the older generation, was not considered a person before he was considered a villain. But maybe if he had come across a hero from the younger generation, someone who recognized his tears as human despite his criminal record, he wouldn't have met the fate he did. It seems that the older generation of heroes don't take tears or emotions into account, which is why Tenko and Touya were shrugged off. But the younger generation will go out of their way to help anyone who needs help, but only if they prove themselves or make themselves sympathetic.

[queen-susans-revenge]

Welcome to today's episode of Fern Yells At the News!

It's all about the royals of course, because the other news is depressing.

Okay, let's start here. FIRSTLY: You assholes don't know whether Harry and Meghan were invited or not. They have a brand new baby, they weren't going to fly across country for a big party anyway.

SECONDLY: "Team Queen"??? Hahahahaha oh my god you absolute bootlickers, the Queen does not like the Obamas better than she likes her own grandson. Insofar as she is capable of human emotion, I mean. If there is a Team Queen then Harry is on it, although considering the other players (see: Andrew), it's not exactly an honor.

THIRDLY: Humiliation. That is what this faction of the media desperately wants. To see Harry exiled, stripped of titles, tarred and feathered and carried through the town square. All for the unforgivable crime of marrying a mixed-race feminist and subsequently refusing to renounce her, despite the fact that she resolutely (and rudely, in their eyes) remained Black even after the wedding. They HATE to see Harry and Meghan thriving in California because by their very existence that family challenges everything about blood purity and caste, everything the racist Royal Rota hold dear.

SADLY FOR THEM, we Americans are going to continue to shower our Cali prince & princess with love and money. Which leads to a lot of wistful headlines in the UK tabloids about "is Harry losing popularity in America? Maybe now? Maybe today? We said it last month and the month before that and it was never true but maybe if we say it AGAIN we can MAKE it true! Look, they weren't at Obama's birthday party! THE AMERICANS ARE TURNING ON HARRY!"

We are not. Thanks for asking. You can't have your prince back because we are keeping him. Haha you.

Oh God the Markles, okay.

I'm tempted to call them fair game for tabloid fodder, because they are terrible and attention-seeking. Meghan strenuously does not feel that they should be fair game. And of course it sucks for her--this is probably the worst part of the princess gig, all the money that the press will go around handing people to say bad things about you. Remember when they outright offered one of her former costars $70K to lie and say he'd had an affair with her?

The smear campaign against Meghan is calculated, it is orchestrated, it has big money behind it, it has been going on for years, and it has captured the Markles as abjectly willing pawns. Samantha and Thomas Jr. have obviously been seething with jealousy against Meghan since her birth and will quite happily lap up cash to broadcast their spite. When their father married Doria, Samantha called her "the maid," which tells you just about everything about where their hatred for Meghan comes from.

What gets me is the entitlement. Thomas Jr. published a letter telling Harry not to marry Meghan...and he has the unmitigated stupidity to be surprised that he wasn't invited to the wedding! Same with Samantha! She feels that she's owed a big princess to-do because her sister got one, and really it isn't fair that there's no prince whisking her off to a palace, just like all her life it hasn't been fair that Meghan is prettier and smarter and nicer and everyone likes her better. It's hard not to feel a little bit bad for Samantha especially considering her health problems, but on the other hand she is genuinely terrible--again, "the maid"--and has alienated everyone including her own children, so.

Thomas Sr. is a sadder case because Meghan really tried to keep her father in her life. But he lied to her, and lied about her (among other things he claimed she'd never given him money, a claim which court proceedings later proved false). He betrayed her trust again and again. And he's continuing to wage a public blackmail campaign against her. So even if she wanted to, which I'm sure at this point she doesn't, it would be impossible for her to resume contact with Blackmail Dad.

I mean, blackmail is exactly what he's doing and he's being extremely open about it. "If after this interview, if I don’t hear from somebody in 30 days, I’ll give 30 days and I’m going to try again...It's time to look after Daddy."

Amazingly, "it's time to look after Daddy" is not even the grossest thing Thomas Markle has ever said. For my money the grossest thing was "Everything that Meghan is, I made her."

That right there. That is the level of entitlement the Markles feel, apparently have always felt, about Meghan. They feel that they own her. They feel that she has no identity outside them. They take one hundred percent of the credit for each and every one of her accomplishments and they categorically deny her any agency, any self-determination, any credit for her own life.

I honestly think this is an abusive thing to say. ANY time anyone says "I made you everything you are," they are hoping to exploit or abuse you. It's the reddest of red flags. It means they don't even see you as a person. For Thomas to say this about his own daughter is gross and it's so revealing of everything Meghan must have endured in that household. It's impossible for her to have a relationship with someone who asserts that level of control and entitlement to her life and her person. Especially not while they are also doing everything in their power to harm her.

I comfort myself, as I always do, with the knowledge that Meghan is sitting very comfortably indeed. The Markles can't actually touch her. They will never see her again except on a TV screen and magazine covers. They will not get a penny from the royal family. That phone call Thomas is waiting for will never come. Shove your roses up your ass, big guy.

THIS ONE THOUGH. I only have one comment on this one and it's "lol"

[dreams-of-wings]

Impossible (7/8)

Imagine Billy Hargrove with a Mixed/Biracial SO

Warnings: SEASON 3 SPOILERS, Swearing, mild violence, angst.

The rest of the week flies by, with Billy weaning himself away from hanging out with Tommy and Carol and more to hanging out with you.

Billy actually learned a couple things that just barely helped him scrape by on his tests.

You passed with flying colors of course.

Now y'all are in the "real world"

Billy snags a summer job as a life guard.

You got a job at the hospital as a patient escort (the hours ain't bad, and it pays good).

You visit Billy at the pool sometimes, and you both still hang out on weekends.

Tommy and Carol don't hang around him anymore (because popularity status from high school no longer matters).

You're trying to help Billy move out of his house, but getting a place of your own isn't easy, so you manage to convince your parents to let him move in with you guys.

He has to stay in the guest room and pay rent though, obviously.

Billy still hasn't moved in yet though because he wants to save a bit of money before he has to worry about paying bills.

It's a smart idea and you support him.

For the most part your Summer is just working, hanging out with friends after work, and juggling the kids (Will, Dustin till he goes to summer camp, Mike, Lucas, and Max. You don't worry about Eleven because she isn't really allowed out of her house).

One day when the kids are all hanging out at your place, Billy walks in and treats the place like he lives there.

Just walks in grabs the milk from your fridge and makes himself a bowl of Cereal, before sitting in a stool by your kitchens island.

Thay all just kinda stare at him for a moment in silence.

"What?"

"Nothing!"

Billy just rolls his eyes and finishes his bowl before getting up to go to the bathroom.

"Ah, ah! Put it in the sink!" You just happen to walk past to grab something from your parents room.

He doesn't fuss, throw a fit, or even act remotely annoyed. He just back tracks and put the bowl in the sink, filling it with warm water before continuing on his way.

Once you both are out of ear shot, Lucas mentions how he's glad the two of you are dating, because Billy's gotten a whole lot better. He's still an ass, but old Billy would have tried to scare the shit out of the kids for fun just for staring at him. New Billy was just annoyed.

Max acts like she's disgusted, not at the idea of the two of you being together, but just because Billy is her brother and she's just grossed out by the thought of him with anyone really.

"They are not dating!"

"They totally are, did you not see the way they just interacted!" Mike is whisper yelling.

"Yeah, it was actually kinda..." Lucas shrugged and looked at Mike.

"Domestic," Mike found the word Lucas was looking for.

"Nu-uh! Billy's just moving in, so he should know house rules by now." Max tried to justify what just happened, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, before sitting back into the couch with a huff.

"That statement really doesn't help your case."

"Trust us, they're dateing."

"Who's dating?" You walk in just then.

"No one!" "Mike and Eleven!" "Max and Lucas!" They all had conflicting answers to your question.

You just raised a brow in confusion at them.

At that moment Billy steps out with his red duffle bag and heads out for work, "Forgot I left my stuff here the other night," he explains as he passes you to the door.

The kids all look at each other, 'The other night?'

"Okay, there's leftovers in the fridge!" You call as he opens the door.

Billy pauses again and backtracks, closing the door, going to the fridge, and opening it. He paused for a moment as if searching, and then he pulls out a Tupperware container with last night's dinner in it, before putting it in his duffle and heading out again, "Thanks," he opens the door, "See you later!"

"See you!" You turn and look back at the kids, "Sorry, what were you saying?"

They kinda just stare at you gobsmacked.

"Nothing."

The kids actually make it there mission for a while to prove to Max that the two of you are together, but all they succeed in doing is getting caught and threatened by Billy to "Fuck off" and "take your sick jokes elsewhere." He doesn't appreciate peeping toms, especially when they're peeping at him.

Still kinda the same old Billy, just much less dramatic.

You notice something's up with Billy though after he gets attacked by the Mind Flyer.

He seems paranoid, tense, and almost bipolar.

You ask him constantly about it when you see him, and at first he tells you its nothing.

You thought his dad found out about him trying to leave because now he doesn't come around your house anymore.

You still see him at the pool, and he'll stop by, but he never stays.

He becomes awkward in conversations, like he's there, but not completely.

You wonder if he's depressed.

Then he starts avoiding you all together after Heather goes missing (of course you didn't know that she'd gone missing).

When you manage to corner him at the pool, Billy seems to revert back to his old High School self.

He's rude and tells you he wants you to stay away from him.

You're honestly really hurt now because you've made so much progress.

He was supposed to be moving in for gods sake.

Little do you know he's just trying to protect you.

You're the last person he wants to hurt.

He's already hurt one of his coworkers.

He almost hurt Mrs. Wheeler.

But you don't know about her.

When the kids try to spy on Billy, your house is the first place they go to.

Max has been sleeping over at Elevens house the past few nights, so she doesn't know he's been actively ghosting you.

"I dont know, he's avoiding me."

They of course thought that was weird, just a few days ago he seemed so comfortable in this house and around you, and suddenly he's giving you the cold shoulder?

"Did you guys get into a fight?" Max is concerned now because she's really hoping Billy is not the host. They're looking for Billy to do very un-Billy things as proof, and this- thus us very un-Billy.

"No, one day he was fine, then the next he acts like he doesn't want to talk to me if he doesn't have to, and now he's avoiding me all together!" You're actually getting very frustrated now.

"Do you guys know something? Did something happen? Is Billy okay?"

"No nothing," You still dont know about what's been going on the past year or so. You weren't there when they caught off the Demigorgon and you weren't there for the fall of the Mind Flyr either. They had to keep it a secret, "Max just noticed he hadn't been around you lately."

"Friends don't lie," Eleven doesn't like that they were hiding Billy's life being in danger. If something happens to him, you would be hurt, and it would partially be their fault for not telling you the truth.

They try to keep Eleven quiet.

Spoiler, it doesn't work.

So they have to tell you everything that's happened since Will disappeared.

You didn't believe them at first of course, but then Eleven shows you her powers and you start to second guess yourself.

It would at least explain Billy's sudden odd behavior, and why Will acted strange after he returned.

Of course you had always blaimed it on PTSD since you didn't know what the kid had truly been through.

Now you see it's much worse than you could have imagined.

So now your in on the madness.

The next place the kids go is the pool.

Shocker, he's there.

"Its too hot outside to be wearing a long sleeve," is your contribution to their debate on whether or not Billy seems like Billy right now.

"True, but light color cloths make it a bit cooler."

Also true.

None of you could see from this distance, that Billy us sweating buckets right now.

But at least the sun isn't hitting him directly, so he skin won't burn and give him another lesion.

The boys are talking about their plan, but your too lost I thought watching Billy to notice them leave you, Max, and Eleven behind.

It was odd to think that this person you were watching wasn't really Billy. He looked like Billy, but he didn't act or think like him.

When the boys come back then fill you in on the plan.

For the most part you're just hiding with Max, but you will come in handy if the real Billy is still in there somewhere.

You show yourself alongside Max.

Billy pauses for a second, like his mind is trying to comprehend that you're a part of this.

"Why?" He actually looks vulnerable and his voice sounds broken, till it slowly contorts into a look of anger and he starts banging o the door.

Your a little unnerved.

And your having flashbacks from back in High School when you and Billy still didn't get along.

He doesn't understand why this is happening to him.

Everything was going great.

He had a job.

He was working on getting out of his father's house.

And he actually felt like he had someone he could trust.

Then you had to go and do this to him.

That's when it occured to him.

He's been treating you like shit these past few days.

And he's done terrible things

Maybe he deserves this.

That's when he screams in frustration, anger, and sadness, before he starts sobbing.

"Its not my fault...."

"Please."

"I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean to."

He's pleading to you and Max with a broken voice and a broken spirit.

For once Billy looks the way he's always felt on the inside.

Desperate, alone, and afraid.

"I'm sorry for the way I treated you."

"It's not my fault, I promise you."

You're the first to approach the door, and Max follows right behind you as she begins to question Billy.

"He made me do it."

When Max questioned him about who "he" was and what "he" made him do, Billy seemed to retreat into himself more.

The sight broke your heart.

After high school, Billy seemed better, and after he started slowly getting away from his father he actually seemed more confident- and not that fake ass peacocking he didn't in school either, like actual confidence.

But now he was fighting something he couldn't get away from.

He slowly lays down on the floor and continues to beg and plead.

He can't even say what he's done.

You almost open the door, till Mike and Eleven stop you.

Your almost on the verge of tears.

"He's my friend....."

"That's not Billy," Mike says sternly.

"He's hurt," you're trying to get them to let you open the door.

But you stop when Will tells you he can feel "him."

Mike backs of first and tells you and Max to get away from the door.

You're confused at first, but you see Billy just as he comes for the window with the piece of tile.

You push yourself away from the door, and take Max with you, saving her from being hurt by the thing posing as her bother.

When Billy manages to get out and starts hurting the kids, you call out to him.

He stops to look at you and you can see the real Billy in his eyes and in his lip that quivers slightly at the edges.

When El starts throwing him around the room all you and Max can do is hold eachother.

Billy had changed, and you all had gotten so close, and now you have to watch someone you have come to love get hurt.

It breaks your heart to see how desperately he wants to fight this thing. He's always tense, like he's trying to hold his body back, and the tear that trails down his face tells you that again, he's so sorry for what he's doing right now.

You're relieved when he runs off because it means that he can't hurt the kids, and they can't hurt him anymore.

Max is glad she at least has you with her.

Sure she has Lucas, but her friends never really liked Billy, so they don't understand why she cares so much.

You go to the hospital with the kids when Nancy and Jonathan take them along.

You pose as Mrs. Driscoll's grandchild as well.

It was terrifying seeing a pile of gore come to life and chase your friends down.

After you all got back to Eleven's house, you can't stop pacing up and down, and you're just making Max more on edge.

I mean who could blame you though.

Those guys at the hospital who turned to mush were under that monsters control, so what was keeping it from doing the same thing to Billy?

What if he dies a horrible painful death? And you can't be there with him?

Max tries to reassure you that everything will be alright.

After all, they've beaten this thing before.

Though it does sound more like she's trying to convince herself more than she is trying to convince you.

You sit down when Max and Mike get into an argument about Eleven. Honestly, after the night you've had, you've just realized how physically, emotionally, and mentally drained you are. You didn't even think you've slept in almost 24 hours - the kids came to your house, you went with them to the pool, you watched Billy till the end of the day when his shift ended, trapt him in the sauna (mind you it was already dark when the Sauna Test went down), craziness happened, went to Eleven's place so she could find Hopper and they could fill him in on what's going on (because apparently the Sharif is in on this madness too), and that's when Nancy and Jonathan arrived with their information on Mrs. Driscoll, and now your here.

Maybe it's been a little more than 24 hours... Perhaps you should lay down...

Meanwhile, Billy is off doing God knows what.

He's trapt in his own mind - completely aware of what's happening but he's unable to do anything about it.

This monster has taken control of him from the inside and the first few days it at least seemed like he had some semblance of control - like he was driving and the monster was sitting in the back seat telling him what to do. Of course at that point he didn't have to listen, but then it started showing him things. It migrated to shotgun and started messing with the steering wheel.

Now it just feels like it's in the driver's seat, but he's bound and gagged in the back passenger seat where he can at least see everything.

It was hard hurting those kids. He had promised Max he would never hurt her friends again, and honestly, because of you he and his little sister had grown closer, and he's actually been relatively happy. He had just been starting to think that maybe, just maybe, Hawkins wasn't so bad and he could stay.

Then shit hit the fan.

He had never seen you so afraid of him in the time he has known you. Not even when you both didn't get along in high school. Back then, you had more of a rebellious fire in your eyes, and no matter what he did to try and snuff it- to make you afraid of him, it only seemed to feed the fire. But back in the sauna...you looked petrified, unsure, on edge, afraid.

Ironic how now that he desperately wants to protect you and Max, you're both can't trust him.

Why is he like this?

Why does he always screw things up?

His mom left him.

His dad hates him.

He was a fuck up all throughout school.

He had shitty friends who, let's be honest, weren't really even his friends.

He hurt- maybe even indirectly killed his coworker.

He almost killed Karen. Oh God, Mrs. Wheeler. He regrets trying to get her to meet him at the hotel. He doesn't even have feelings for her - he just thought she was hot and wanted to get laid, and by an older woman at that. In fact, he had been on his way to meet her when he was attacked.

And now he's probably lost you and Max.

He feels utterly and terribly alone.

When you wake up, it's to the sound of El screaming. She's freaking out because of the vision she just had of talking to Billy.

The conversation about what she just saw was very sobering. You are wide awake now that the possibility of death looms over you, and the sound of screeching from the approaching monster in the distance doesn't help.

It found you.

You all get the house ready - shut the windows, close the blinds, block off possible openings and stand back to back.

You would feel much safer in a basement.

When it comes through the windows, you help Jonathan fight it off to the best of your ability, but you both end up getting thrown around the room.

Thank whatever supernatural being put El on this earth, because you all would have died without her.

Fast forward to you all going to Starcourt Mall

You help Eleven walk because she's injured, and since Steve isn't here, you're mom now.

Apparently everyone was somehow already on to fishy stuff happening? But what do Russians have to do with anything?

You're so worried about El, that bite looks bad. Like, infected bad, but it can't have been more than an hour or two since she got it, so it can't have progressed that quick.

You know something isn't right.

And you are proven correct when you see something wriggling around in the wound.

Props to El, for being so strong when Johnathan tried to remove that nasty thing, and then removing it herself.

They would have had to knock you the fuck out first if that were you- all the nope.

You all know what happens.

Part 8 will hopefully be the end. Idk we'll see, maybe I will get carried away and make it too long and then their will be 9 lol.

Like I did with this imagine. It was only supposed to be one part, but here we are going on 8.

I apologize for this part following season 3 so closely. As you all can tell I like to at least try and make my own content so it doesn't just feel like you're reading the show, and I think my struggles reflect on this part a bit. I have seen season 3 at least 4 times now because I was trying to find a way do this without just basically rewriting the season with the reader patched into it, but it was either this, have the reader just kinda loose contact with Billy and then find out he's "dead" (my denial is showing), or have reader become one of the flayed (let's be honest, not much would probably go on there). Plus this option has the most angst I feel.

Hope y'all are ready for the angst in the next part.

[punkscowardschampions]

Nancy & Rio

Nancy: Hey Nancy: I know you're trying to get away from it all but I can't ask your brother about this and I saw your snaps which literally prove you're the right person to ask Rio: Oof, desperately trying to think if I drunk snapped anything really incriminating now Rio: but no, go on, what's up? Nancy: oh my god no! I'm being the desperate one, okay 🙈🙈🙈 Nancy: idk maybe boys are like REALLY DIFFERENT 🙄🙄🙄 ugh Nancy: Kill me now, right? Rio: Ooh Rio: you've got my attention Rio: spill Nancy: It's not your attention I wanna get though, no offense Rio: 💔😭 Rio: but who Rio: who?! Nancy: oh babe, you know I love you Nancy: but I can't tell you Nancy: That'd be even more embarrassing when I mess it up 🙊🙊 Rio: UGH fine, I'll just have to guess 😘 Rio: So, you want tips Nancy: Yeah Nancy: If only Buster wasn't such a prick, I could ask him but like Rio: Honey no Rio: don't be a freaky twin Nancy: Gross Nancy: He's probably slept with half of New England by now though, is my point Nancy: Girls like him Rio: He's good looking, don't think it's much more than that, babe Rio: well, and he knows it Nancy: Well some of us are clearly ugly and not that bitch Nancy: It's the 🥕 curse Rio: PLEASE Rio: don't let your mum hear that, first of all Rio: and it's a blatant lie so shut up Nancy: PLEASE, you've seen her, past present and future Rio: You look just like her, don't play Nancy: No, I don't!😳 and we're getting off topic Rio: I need more info to be ON topic Rio: where did you meet, where do you meet, what's she like Nancy: School and unavailable is what she's like Nancy: That's why I need your help Rio: Unavailable like she's straight? Nancy: Like she's with someone right now Rio: 😱 Nancy: I know, okay Nancy: don't Rio: Well okay, realistically it's a high school relationship Rio: you won't have to wait that long Nancy: I wish, they're really serious but it's so wrong Rio: most are but if you're gonna try and preach that you're gonna get smacked down, babe Rio: gotta let people make their own mistakes, even if repeatedly Nancy: So just wait? That's your advice Nancy: Alright Rio: You don't wanna get in the middle of a relationship Rio: especially a shit one, trust Rio: so, how do you know she's into you too then Nancy: idk she just goes out of her way to talk to me and be around Nancy: but it's HOW we talk, you know? and look at each other and just Rio: Oh, you've got it BAD Rio: just keep talking and looking, can't hurt Rio: but I wouldn't do anything yet Rio: by the sounds of Nancy: I've never liked someone this much before, it's so annoying Rio: I know, baby Nancy: I guess I can always leave school, it's worked out for you Nancy: I'll just never tell my parents the actual reason, obviously Rio: Yeah, good 🍀 with that Rio: actually find you floating down the Liffey Nancy: Sorry I didn't meet the love of my life when I was a child, like 🙄 Rio: Just that efficient 💅 Rio: no pressure, Nance 😂 Nancy: Ugh Rio: Least your brother doesn't have that on you Rio: every ☁ Nancy: Thank god he's incapable of love Rio: Ooh, harsh Nancy: But true, so also I'm grateful we live in a technological age so there's not crying girls calling the house every few minutes Rio: Your lesbian sensibilities will not allow Nancy: Exactly Rio: 💕 such a sweetie Rio: how could she resist Nancy: Shh Nancy: I'm trying to resist and wait like you told me too Rio: Oi, don't blame me Rio: you're your own woman Nancy: But you know about stuff like this Rio: Oh yeah Rio: my love life is beyond aspirational 😏 Nancy: Like I said, I saw your holiday romance, babe Nancy: I don't feel that bad for you Rio: oh babe, that ain't romance Nancy: I don't need those kind of details thank you Nancy: We'll just call it that Rio: You ain't getting 'em Rio: lady who doth protest too much Rio: if you were, they'd be on the snap Nancy: Gross Nancy: You can 100% keep your hetero exploits away from my line of sight, that's fine Rio: I know you're obsessed with me, you'll overlook the D Nancy: You wish, babe Nancy: I have a new obsession, as discussed Rio: oh no Rio: I'll have to be consoled 😉 Nancy: I'm sure your mystery man will be thrilled Rio: Maybe I'll let ya know Nancy: I appreciate you trying to make me gayer to win this girl's heart but no need Rio: Need to make her gayer Rio: that's the 🍵 Nancy: You don't know that she's not even gayer than I am, excuse you! Rio: I do Rio: I asked if she was straight and instead of yay or nay it was in a relationship Rio: I'm not an idiot, honey Nancy: I'm not gonna label her when idk! Rio: Okay okay Nancy: If she likes me, she likes me Nancy: It doesn't matter if I'm the first girl she's been into or not Rio: Of course Nancy: Who am I trying to convince, me or you? Nancy: Or her Nancy: 💔 Rio: Oh babe Nancy: Outgaying myself with this level of pining though so 🥇🙄 Rio: Can't be beaten, doll 💖 Nancy: Anyway, go get a drink or a tan or something Rio: Coming from the palest bitch? Rio: I know I need to now 😱 Rio: catch me running Rio: 😘 proper talk when I'm back Nancy: 😂 You know that's not how I meant it Nancy: Just that you probably don't wanna look like you spent EVERY second in a hotel room Nancy: Unless you do Rio: 'scuse you Rio: I'm seeing the sights, getting cultured 😂 Nancy: UM OKAY sure Nancy: American's don't have culture, first of all Nancy: But yeah you're clearly enjoying the sights, thanks for rubbing that in 😏 Rio: So true Rio: Imma go get this sun tan lotion rubbed in Rio: peace mama Nancy: Thanks for leaving me with that mental image Nancy: I love you so much Rio: 🧡🧡🧡 Rio: love ya

[mkschnoe]

When I Thought I Wasn’t Good Enough

When I think of you I am not taken to the memories where I fell in love with you, I am not taken there – I am taken to the bedroom where I stood in front of our bed, your bed. I hated the sheets, I wanted more color, I wanted more throw pillows, but you wanted white and black. I am standing over the bed you laid in with the mother of your child. Where you loved, where you held your daughter together, where you had sex, where you woke up together. Its been cleaned and replaced with another person. I am standing in what we called our house, In front of my bed, eyes full of tears. I cry, and I tell my fiance that he can sleep with other woman... if only I can have the man I fell in love with, back. If I can have that person back, feel him, touch his lips again, hear his voice say “honey” after the I love you that I waited to hear every time. I dismissed the whole point of the sentence “ I love you “ it was mute to me, It only mattered if I heard honey for some reason. It spoke something different to me, restless, barley awake, id touch his chest and say I love you to hear honey once more. In those moments, that was all the reassurance I needed. We were okay.

Every night we gathered together in our save place, bed. We forget about our problems long enough to sleep one more night together – In hopes when we wake, I'll have him back. These problems couldn't really exist, right?

Until we woke and life became a reality when we had to go about our daily life.

I watched him every morning, and despite our differences, he'd lift his restless body out of bed – as bad as he wanted to stay tucked in where he was safe. He got up, turned the light on, and would sit there next to me frustrated that he can never find matching socks.

He would go into the kitchen and put the shirt I ironed the night before on, I'd yell to remind him to not forget his lunch. I'd lay there waiting - waiting for him to kiss my forehead before he left … when he didn't, I knew we weren't okay. Every morning I laid in bed waiting to see if he remembered I was here, that I needed that kiss. How petty of me to need something so simple to fall back asleep. Does he know?

Does he know I wake up every morning thinking of him? Thinking what I can do to make his life easier. So, I do the only thing I know what to do naturally – I clean the house, I do the laundry, fold it, and stand in front of his side trying to remember where he likes his shirts exactly. I clean the floors because he hates to have crunchies in bed. I light a candle. I have dinner ready when he gets home. We lay there on the couch and I ask to massage his feet. Feet are gross, and there was something about massaging his feet that literally made me happy. To touch any part of his body, to ease any amount of stress I can. We'd get in bed and I would crawl into my spot under his arm, I'd kiss him, and nearly every night we ever had together – I would place my hand on his chest, gather my breathing to get in tune with his. I'd say a prayer to myself that God/Universe will take the anxiety away, to surround him with goodness, light, and maybe give me some so he can have less of it.

How can I love a human this much and I am still not good enough. Am I loving him wrong, what do I need to do to change things about me? So I pay close attention to the girls he talks to... the girls he doesn't know I know about. Okay... so I need to look more like them? I'll never be white, I can't have blonde hair, and I can't be 100lbs.

I begin to look at myself in such disgust, maybe I need to be tinier to fit into his expectations.

Now I am in my own skin scared shitless to be naked in front of him because I don't look good enough. I am the same me the day we met to the moment we share right now.

I can't take it anymore so I create a fight any chance I get to get reassurance that I am good enough. If I try to leave, he'll fight for me, and I will know, right? How can he not see what I am doing, why can he not see me hurting, why can he not see me so desperate to have him WANT me. Does he want anymore, or am I just convenient. I am so unsure of anything right now – our relationship is going downhill.. we fight to make up, and I lay there at night mad at myself that I caused a fight that we worked thru, but it's another reason he won't want me tomorrow. Right now is okay, so I will take it and hate myself tomorrow. I am in bed with him, no other girl has stolen him from me. I've won one more night. What will tomorrow hold?

We have good days, and bad days to follow. I am losing pieces of myself along this journey and I am not aware of it yet. I am scooping to levels I never would of done before to have a man love me, to feel wanted, and be as important that he is to me.

I am taken back to a memory one day as I look out the window. I am eleven years old – my brothers and sister sit next to me laughing as we sit in the car with our foster parents. I am not aware of what they're laughing about. I am looking at the green grass pass so quickly and I am left there thinking about my sibling's father sexually abusing me. We are on our way to get ice cream, why am I thinking about this? It's all I ever think about. How do I get this out of my head, will I ever?

Am I programmed to love men that hurt me. I often wonder why I didn't leave when he told me I wasn't going to be good enough one day. Did I stick around to prove a point to myself or to him that I am worthy enough to be treated well with love, respect, goodness, and more than a body to use. How did I get this far from myself. I yell inside, NO! You are better than this Mariah – walk away! Instead, I sit there on the bayou wall, head down, eyes full of tears asking myself what I did to make him not want me anymore. I sit there silently as he tells me one day he will get tired of having sex with just me, he will need another woman. I say nothing, standing over me, he gestures his hand down to lift me off the ground, and we walk away like he just didn't break a million pieces in me that took a very long time to rebuild from my childhood.

The cycle begins – we break up, we sleep with other people, we get back together. We find out about these other people and the insecurity has taken over even more. Now I want him to feel how I do – that is where I fucked up. I wanted him to feel something he most likely already felt deep down, but that wasn't good enough for me. I was in need of attention, regardless of who it came from so maybe he would want me back. What have I done... I don't look at any other human the way I look at him, why? I try so hard, I want so badly to look at another man the way I do him just so maybe I can start over.

Why am I not good enough. I’d rather live a lifetime without knowing love than love him as bad as I do in this moment.