#God doesn’t make them like this anymore :(

[bigbarabelly]

On that cute drawing of Chilchuck and Laios with their kid you tagged that either could carry it doesn’t matter and. I can’t decide if I’m more enchanted by Laios carrying so so small and being energetic and enthusiastic for most of his pregnancy vs. Chil being the grumpiest most put out pregnant guy on earth cause he had to go and get knocked up with a goddamn tallman baby

SJFHDHSH I will doodle the chuckster encumbered with Laios’s brats sometime cause GOD RIGHT

He’d be so fucking miserable. He’s old and sore and not meant for this shit at his age. I truly do not know how his back would handle it. My partner is 6’4 and everything has to be hunched or bent over for. Chil being a half foot surrounded by tall man shit in work outside of his home raising, I figure he’s at least pretty limber and clearly stands tall to assert his DONT infantalize me shit.

I do think Laios would be going THROUGH it tho with morning sickness. Makes all his faves taste and smell like trash or the texture suddenly makes him gag cause he can feel it in his teeth. On the flip chil would be craving monster and he’d be so pissed and just over it on top of everything else SKGJDJSJFJJS

Old man’s grateful though. Figured he’d be having grandkids by now and not more damn kids of his own. But he gets so sad when he can’t pick them up anymore

[pepsiboyy]

idk if you take fic requests! but maybe a fic based off of Greek God by Conan Gray. like Matt or Chris pretend they don’t like yn where they’re around their sport (whatever sport, you choose!) friends. they all have a really high ego and are cocky. but there’s a tension between M/C and yn bc they used to be friends until M/C got popular but yn didn’t so now they’re not friends cuz M/C let his popularity status get to him. but they sometimes speak on the down low (M/C doesn’t wanna be seen talking to yn) they’re families are family friends which is why they’re technically forced to still talk every once in a while. but eventually the tension gets too intense, and well, M/C can’t handle it anymore and it ends up turning into a childhood friends to enemies to lovers type story 🤭 ALSO, YN STANDS HER GROUND AND DOESNT LET M/C GET HER THAT EASILY, SHES NOT JUST GONNA FALL FOR HIM INSTANTLY CUZ HE FINALLY STARTS PAYING ATTENTION TO HER!! thanks!!

GREEK GOD.

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: just read the request :p warnings: cursing, mentioned of alcohol, being drunk, use of y/n lol, angst (resolved sorta) a/n: THANK U SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST!!! i hope it's what you were looking for, i spent a lot of time trying to make this work :") thank you so much for the request!!

i stood at the edge of the ice rink, my hands clasping together with high hopes.

i came to cheer on matt and chris, with nick seated beside me as he scrolled through instagram and snacked on some chips that he brought.

nick was my best friend, without a doubt. i told him everything. matt was one of my comfort friends. someone i didn't talk to as often as nick, but enough to where i feel fully comfortable talking to him about whatever may happen. chris, on the other hand...

chris was chris.

it was hard to describe the dynamic the two of us shared.

chris and i actually used to be closer than me and nick, or anyone, honestly.

he would pick me up when i fell, give me some of his snacks and even a sip of his pepsi if i wanted. he would reassure me when i felt low, and even put me in my place if he knew i was out of line.

before we knew it, high school rolled around. freshman year was relatively normal, sophomore year too.

junior year he started making newer friends, but he also had a different lunch period from the rest of us. i'd only really see him when matt gave me rides home.

senior year rolled around, and chris was a changed person. ever since he made it to the varsity hockey team with his new friends, he changed. he claims it's because we "grew apart" but we didn't. he goes out of his way to make me look bad in front of his friends, or even act like he has no idea who i am. it kind of made me feel stupid.

matt being on varsity with him didn't help his case at all, either.

so, when i came to watch them play, nick would sit with me and i would cheer on them both, even if chris pretended to hate me.

so, here i am. standing at the edge of the rink with nick, who was now standing beside me as we watched the two we knew and loved. matt effortlessly weaving past a defender, sending the puck flying towards chris, who sent it into the goal and made it.

the sound of skates cutting through ice was sharp in my ears, and the bright arena lights cast a glow over everyone while each and every cheer echoed in the cold air.

i remember when we all used to skate together freshman year here, the arena empty and our arms all linked together because i couldn't skate for the life of me, on matter how bad i tried.

those days felt like a lifetime ago now.

you had all grown a lot since then.

apart, apparently.

"hey, y/n, what are you doin' here?" a boy from the team questioned, skating to the glass with a cocky grin. "came to see the champ?" he asked, referring to chris.

i rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, allowing my eyes to trail elsewhere. "just here to support my friends." i mumbled.

chris glanced over, his expression neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes - guilt, maybe, or recognition of the unspoken tension between them. before i could look away, he turned back to his friends, laughing at some joke i couldn't hear.

i sighed and took a seat beside nick again, letting out a soft hum as i did. the familiar sting of hurt and anger was beginning to get to me.

the memory of chris and i being inseparable, chris changing, chris making fun of me to his friends, all of it. it hurt. popularity inflated his ego, and i always refused to be an admirer in his little fan club.

after the game, i found myself lingering near the exit of the rink. i typically waited for the crowd to die and the traffic to slow down before leaving. it was too busy for me.

the locker room door swung open, and out poured the hockey team that was riding out the high of their win. chris was among them, laughing loudly and tossing his hockey stick over his shoulder. we met eyes for a moment, and his smile seemed to falter. until he leaned to a friend of his and nudged them, mumbling something to make them both laugh.

"hey, y/n!" chris called out. "didn't think you'd stick around here. still obsessed with me or what?"

i stared at chris with a deadpanned expression. "stop getting me to stroke your ego, christopher." i bit back, trying to keep my voice steady.

this shit was annoying, really.

chris's friends snickered, and he shrugged it off, turning away as if i were nothing more than an afterthought to him. "whatever. let's get out of here."

the group moved past me, their laughter seeming to echo in the hallway. i felt a lump form in my throat, but i refused to let anyone see me get upset over something to miniscule.

i knew this version of chris was a facade, but that didn't really make it hurt any less. the boy i once loved and cared for deeply was now buried under layers of arrogance and bravado, and i wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily.

the crowd began to die down, so i gathered myself and pushed out of the door, making my way towards my car.

as i walked towards the car, i saw chris again, this time with his brothers as they leaned against their minivan and talked about the game together.

for a moment, chris looked up, and our eyes met. there was a flicker of something in his gaze - regret, maybe, or a silent apology - but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

he mumbled something to his brothers before he kicked off and made his way towards me.

"need a ride home? matt can take you." his tone was casual, but strained.

i stared at chris for a moment in disbelief, before quickly shaking my head and sighing. "no thanks. i can manage."

chris opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it, looking away. the silence between us stretched, and it filled with all the things left unsaid.

and with that, i turned on my heel and began walking home.

saturday. the days where the sturniolo household invited me for dinner were so much fun, genuinely. they were an amazing family. and chris typically acted normal around her when she was invited over.

i pulled into the driveway of their home, smiling softly to myself as i turned the music down. i pulled down the mirror and fixed my hand, humming to myself before taking my keys.

i was wearing something pretty cozy, just a crewneck and some bleached jeans and converse. they were like my second family, no need to get fancy.

i knocked on the door, where matt answered and pulled me into a hug of greeting. "hi, y/n," he breathed and smiled softly before leading me further into their home, where i was met with nick, marylou, their mother, and jimmy, their father.

"where's chris?" i questioned, the words falling from my lips faster than i could stop them.

nick exchanged a look with matt before he shrugged. "not sure, he just said he was going to some hockey party for their win last night."

i scoffed and nodded, taking a seat in my usual spot between nick and marylou.

the empty chair across from me was honestly quite intimidating. more than it would have been if chris were there.

chris was always the one with crazy stories and conversation topics.

we sat in a comfortable silence, though, which i'm sure nick and matt enjoyed as they listen to chris every day of their lives.

"you're still goin' to their hockey games and cheerin' em on?"

marylou questioned, and i turned to her and smiled. "yeah, they're really great, actually." i smiled softly, and marylou nodded.

"i know chris has been on a bit of an ego train, i hope he's still been kind to you guys." jimmy mumbled softly.

i swallowed and rubbed the back of my head. "yeah, he's been great, actually." i lied.

nick and matt stared at me, but decided not to question it before continuing their meal.

but then my phone began to ring, and everyone's attention shifted to me.

"i'm so sorry," i quickly mumbled as i removed it from my pocket and immediately felt every bit of air in my lungs leave.

why is chris calling me?

i rose to my feet and held up a finger, chuckling nervously. "i'm gonna take this," i mumbled quickly.

i made my way down the hall and to the front room. "hello?" i questioned softly.

"y/n/n," chris slurred on the other end. "i- i'm at a party, and.." he trailed off before giggling to himself, "i might.. need a ride home," he mumbled.

i sighed, rubbing my temple in annoyance. "where are you?"

chris mumbled an address, hardly coherent. "can you... can you come get me? please?"

i sighed to myself. "why can't you get matt or nick or something?"

"they'll get pissed," he stated, a little clearer than the rest of his sentences. "i don't want them to worry about me." chris struggled to get the word worry out of his system, making me crack a slight smile.

"fine," i stated as i fixed myself, "stay put. i'll be there soon."

i hung up the phone and made my way back to the dining room, where everyone collectively turned to me.

"everything alright?" nick asked, and i quickly nodded.

"everything's good, i do have to go, though. i'm so sorry you guys. i'll make it up to you?" i smiled. "i just, um.. have to run."

they all exchanged looks before nodding and bidding me farewell, nick walking me out.

i sat in my car and typed the address into my phone, rubbing my forehead.

i didn't enjoy parties. they were loud, sweaty, gross and full of annoying ass kids. usually.

and as i pulled up, it was just that. a typical high school party scene - loud music, teenagers spilling out onto the lawn, and the faint smell of alcohol and weed in the air. i found chris on the footsteps, his head buried in his hands. i quickly made my way towards him after parking and kneeled down in front of him.

"come on, let's get you home." i said, helping him to his feet.

chris leaned on my heavily as we made our way to my car. i buckled him in and got into the driver's sear, the tension between us palpable in the confined space. as i drove, chris mumbled some incoherent words, his head lolling against the window.

"y/n," he suddenly said, his voice clearer but thick with emotion. "i'm sorry."

i glanced at him, eyebrows raised. "for what?"

"for everything," he continued, his eyes half-closed. "for being an ass. for ignoring you. for... for all of it."

i took a deep breath as i felt a mixture of sadness and anger bubbling within me. i gripped the steering wheel tighter, unsure of how to respond. "you're drunk, chris. you don't know what you're saying."

"no," chris insisted, reaching out and touching my arm. "i do, i've been a jerk. i miss you. i miss us."

i pulled into my own driveway, knowing chris wouldn't want to see his family like this. i would just take his phone and send them a text saying he was with a friend tonight or something.

i turned off the engine and took a deep breath. "let's get you inside."

chris stumbled out of the car, leaning on me for support the whole way to the door. i fished for my keys and unlocked the door, quickly guiding him to my living room couch.

as i laid a blanket over him, he grabbed my hand as his eyes locked with mine.

"i still care about you, y/n. i always have."

my heart pounded, but i forced a laugh, trying to deflect the intensity of the moment. "sleep it off, chris. we'll talk in the morning, okay?"

i brushed a few loose strands from his forehead and stood up, turning off the light and going to my room. my mind raced with conflicting emotions.

part of me wanted to believe his drunken confession, but another part of me was still so angry. still hurt by the way he had treated me. as i laid in bed and stared at my ceiling, i couldn't shake the feeling that things between us were far from over. and that this was just the beginning of a much more complicated story.

the sizzling of the bacon on the oven was comforting, in a way. i had an airpod in, playing some softer, but upbeat music to get me up and going for the long, long day ahead.

i turned my head upon hearing some shuffling in the kitchen, meeting eyes with chris. "morning," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"morning," i replied, placing a plate of food with bacon, eggs and sausage onto the counter in front of him. "eat up. you'll feel better."

he sat down and started eating, occasionally glancing at me as i cleaned up the kitchen. after a few minutes of awkward silence, he looked at me. "look, about last night.."

i crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. "what about it?"

chris looked down at his plate, poking at his eggs. "i meant what i said, you know. but i was drunk, and.. and maybe it didn't come out right-"

"maybe?" i questioned, my voice sharp. "you've been treating me like i don't exist for months, chris. one drunken apology doesn't fix that."

he winced at my words, but nodded. "i know, i've been an idiot. i got caught up in... everything. the team, the popularity. but that's no excuse."

"no, it's not." i stated, my anger beginning to bubble to the surface. "you think you can just waltz back into my life with a half-assed apology and everything will be fine? it doesn't work that way." i spat.

chris stood up, stepping closer. "i'm not asking for everything to be fine overnight. i'm asking for a chance to make things right."

i shook my hear, my eyes flashing with frustration. "do you even realize how much you hurt me? how it felt to be ignored, to be treated like i was nothing?"

"i do now," he said quietly. "and i'm sorry. truly. i want to make it up to you, if you'd let me."

i looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of insincerity. he seemed genuine, his usual bravado stripped away, leaving only the boy she used to know.

"i don't know if i can trust you," i admitted, my voice softer now.

chris reached out and took my hand in his. "i get that. and i will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back."

he pulled me into a tight hug, where i gently hugged his waist and took in his scent.

i missed this.

"just one date. give me a chance?" chris mumbled, the smile audible in his tone.

i hesitated, my mind racing. part of me wanted to say no, to protect myself from his bullshit. but another part of me remembered all of the good times.

"one date," i finally stated, my voice firm. "but this doesn't mean i'm just forgiving you, chris. you have a lot to prove."

he nodded quickly, his lips curving into a smile. "i promise i won't let you down."

i pulled away from his embrace and smiled at him before turning to the sink and doing the dishes. "you better now."

as i did the dishes, i felt a glimmer of hope mixed with lingering doubt. chris had a long way to go to earn the trust i had for him back, but for the first time in months, she felt like maybe, just maybe, things could change.

[cultofdixon]

Relapsing back to old habits

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • She/Her Pronouns • Youngest Dixon Sister!Reader • It’s been years since the world fell and Daryl thought you would tell him anything that bothered you. But here you were finding out your brother found your stash • ANGST/SFW • TW: Relapses / Marijuana / Scars / Injuries

Requested by: Anon

“Y/N?” Daryl called out when he entered the house after taking his morning watch. “I could use a hand with the snares around the gates”

Nothing. Which…was weird for his sister. But even then, she’s not the excited little girl that would come running at a full sprint to greet her brother anymore. She still would greet him with her presence minus the bone crushing hug.

To be honest with you, Daryl wished she didn’t grow up in the conditions that she did. Let alone grow up in an apocalypse. The end of the world changed everybody.

Daryl decided to make his way to her bedroom to see if she was in there. The Dixons stay with the Grimes given Carol moved to the Kingdom. The two help with the kids, ever since Rick’s disappearance.

It was a lot.

Whoever didn’t feel for Michonne, was just an asshole. Imagine finding out you’re pregnant while your husband explodes.

Then there’s Daryl, you’ve lost so much in this lifetime that the closest thing to a brother just is gone with zero remains…who knows what’s he’s battling internally.

The last thing he’d want is to lose his sister in all this mess. He wanted to spend time with her in that moment but not finding her was irritating him.

“Where is that girl” Daryl frowns knocking on her bedroom door only for no reply so he decides to open it.

He likes to remember when they used to live in a one bedroom apartment with Merle.

During arguments Y/N would storm off and close her door in Daryl’s face that it annoyed him to where he’d tell her “don’t make me remove this door”

But he never did. Hell, he added a lock to the door because of Merle’s high escapades getting more aggressive

Daryl checked around the room for any signs of her leaving but even if Y/N is an adult now and doesn’t need him to know where she’s at 24/7…it’s a security thing for her for him to know. Her calling card is leaving her lucky rabbit’s foot that he got her during their prison days on her night stand to tell him she’s still around. She doesn’t leave the community without it.

As he went to pick it up, he kicked something under her bed and while part of him shouldn’t check it. He decided to do so anyway.

To Daryl’s surprise…a rather unpleasant one

“Fuck…” Daryl frowns opening the box to find her stash. It was two boxes of smokes, a baggie with what he assumes to be weed, and the obvious lighter. I thought she quit he only started to feel worse.

The fuck you have there?!

U-Uhm. Weed?

Y/N. You didn’t get that from Merle did you?! His shit is always laced with something! Please fucking tell me—-

No! I didn’t! I got it from a friend…I wasn’t going to smoke it

For the love of whatever god out there. Don’t ever.

Daryl it’s not going to kill me…

“C’mon Dog, gotta grab my gear before Daryl comes” Her voice echoed the hall causing Daryl to freeze in his place knowing damn well he won’t be able to escape.

Dog nudged the door open with his snoot and stared directly at Daryl. He found a Mal pup in the woods and thought Y/N could use a companion when he was gone looking for Rick.

All the eldest Dixon could do was stare directly at Dog and wait for his sister to shortly come in to notice the staring contest. More importantly the box where she keeps her stash being open in Daryl’s lap.

They’re just cigarettes, bubs. You smoke them

Yeah, don’t mean by baby sister should

As much as I appreciate you being the father figure in my life over Merle. You gotta realize it’s the end of the world. Once the pack is gone, I won’t do it anymore.

You promise?

If it helps you sleep at night, Dar. I promise

Y/N was now the one staring blankly at Daryl as she shoves her hands in her coat pockets not uttering a word. But also not freaking out either. She didn’t want this to become an argument so she walked toward him taking the box from his hands and setting it on the nightstand. Next to be grabbed was her rabbit’s foot as she attaches it to her belt loop on her pants.

“My bow is downstairs, I gotta pack my bag. Mind waiting down there?” Y/N knew what his original intentions were, given Aaron was informed what he was doing and when he saw her walking the community he informed her of her brother’s whereabouts.

The eldest Dixon decided to listen and leave to meet her downstairs.

Soon the two were walking the woods tracking a deer, Y/N glances every once in a while toward Dog who happily trotted beside her in a sweater she made for him. Ignoring the worry filled silence coming from her brother. She seems to have to break the silence more nowadays.

“Any news? On Rick?”

“Nah…was thinking of expandin’ my search. Go further up the river”

“Mm.” Y/N frowns turning away from her brother to check some damage done to a tree to see if it’s a walker or something else.

Daryl watches her carefully noticing her saddened expression after telling her plans about heading further away in the search for Rick. He only snapped out of it when they heard the snap of twigs and spotting the deer.

Before Daryl could even ready his crossbow, Y/N stopped him which he then noticed the two babies with the deer.

“You promised”

“So did you” Y/N frowns walking away to go further into the woods without disturbing the deer and in hopes of finding something else.

You said you’d stay this time

I am gonna stay. Michonne just had RJ and the community needs help.

Is that all?

What do you mean?

The end of the world took a lot from me too Daryl. The last thing I’d want is to lose you too

You won’t ever lose me, bug.

You don’t know that.

Y/N…what do you want me to do? To reassure yea that I’m not going anywhere.

Please just stay. Go out until nightfall, come home at the end of the day. Just so I know you’re alive and not…

Okay. I promise.

You better not be telling me what I want to hear.

Bug, I promise.

The arrow pierced right into the raccoon as the squeak it made only hurt Y/N. But meat is meat nowadays. As she went to retrieve her arrow and her catch, Daryl couldn’t hold it any longer.

“Why’d yea hide that stuff from me?”

“Because I’m an adult. I’m allowed to have some privacy with my belongings”

“Fine. But you said you stopped smoking. Hell—-You’ve got weed! Where the fuck do you come across that?!”

“That’s none of your damn business!” Y/N snapped at him as she felt the regret, she felt the pain she’s been internalizing—numbing. “I can handle myself, Daryl. I ain’t an addict like Merle. I ain’t gonna go crazy and tear myself apart just because of some marijuana and cigarettes”

“How can you be for certain?”

“Because my brother never coming home does the job” Y/N felt the tears come on as she quickly turned away to try and stop them. Daryl tried to rest his hand on her shoulder but she pulled away. “You ain’t the only one to lose Rick, but why does losing that man mean I have to suffer and never see the only blood I have left”

“Y/N…”

Y/N tensed to the sound of crunching as Daryl quickly readied his crossbow and shot at the sound. One of many squirrels they’d be getting out there. As he passed her to grab his catch, her tears fell.

“When we found the prison, you promised then you’d always be there for me.” Y/N formed fists to contain her anger and slow the tears. “Then Merle died and you were wrecked…so I took on a lot because I couldn’t process my feelings. He was a dirtbag. But he was my brother. It killed a part of me that I wanted an escape that wasn’t harming myself directly. I couldn’t find shit then so I suffered. Then you got kidnapped and I destroyed Carol’s house in Alexandria. I tore off the wallpaper, broke all the dining room chairs, threatened to kill Spencer and broke all the glassware…I thought I had lost you then and I couldn’t escape that old familiar feeling…then the day after Rick died, you left and I cried for days. I lost someone important to me permanently and temporary at the same time. He meant a lot to me too, Daryl. He saved me countless times and I will forever be in the Grimes’ debt. But why did you have to go back on your promise all the fucking time?” She pulled herself away storming off in a sense as Daryl quickly picked up his catch and followed her.

“Y/N—-I was—-“

“Nah. None of that “I was doing this for more than me” crap. Because Michonne would understand if you took breaks and shit. But you never did. Never even bothered to check on me when you did come home…”

“Y/N…”

“I was 15 when this shit started. Now I’m in my 20s and I want the whole fucking world to just burn because of how many times it’s burned me…” Y/N frowns, tripping on an outgrown tree root resulting in Dog quickly sniffing her and Daryl rushing to her side being pushed off of her at first. “Why did you leave me? You’re my big brother and you left me” she sobbed leaning into Daryl as he wrapped himself tightly around her feeling the tears wet his eyes.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to…I thought I owed him something. I do owe him my life and just…I’m sorry I stopped trying for yea. I should’ve done better”

Y/N simply continued to sob and latched onto her brother feeling him tighten his hold.

“Please don’t leave me anymore…take me with you or just stay longer”

A few hours passed since then and Y/N found herself on the porch steps with Dog laid by her feet while she took out one of her cigarettes and her lighter. She struggled a bit for the light and it felt like a sign when Daryl handed his zippo to her after stepping out for his own smoke.

“Supporting my bad habits?”

“Nah, joining” Daryl brought himself to sit beside her causing Dog to stir and bring himself to rest his head on his knee. As Daryl starts to pet the pup, Y/N lit her cigarette smoking it a bit before sharing with her brother. “So I have a proposal”

“You leaving again and trying to butter me up with something?”

“Nah. I want yea to come with me.” Daryl stated watching the confusion write itself on her face. “Two sets of eyes are better than one…and Dog”

“…if you have something of Rick, maybe Dog can pick up something” Y/N suggests taking her cigarette back. “We could make camp out there”

“Exactly. Even visit the other communities.” Daryl started, watching her light up slightly and give him a more curious look. “See Carol and Zeke”

Her smile that he’s missed for so long returned from something as simple as seeing old friends. But she was also happy to have her brother back…

[berrinlee]

hiii!! I just recently found out abt ur blog and I really really love your works sm like omg ugshhdhdh

anywhoo is it okay to request sbg x reader who acts like regina george? its been bothering my mind lately aaaaa u dont have to write it! hihih tyty i love you take careeee

IT GIRL

author’s note : i love when ppl enjoy my things ilysm /p

concept : regina!reader with the sbg group

genre : headcanons, mean girls!au, drabble

content : might be ooc, reader is an actual bitch, not a single hint of genuine softness

meeting the group

⠀ › ⠀has bullied logan once or twice but then ignored his presence completely after and forgot about him

⠀ › ⠀out of the whole group, logan is unsure of you the most. he can’t tell if being in a group with someone who bullied him before is good since you have seemed to forget who he was.

⠀ › ⠀tyler knows your reputation and is bothered by your presence honestly

⠀ › ⠀ashlyn has never heard of you; never had connections so she doesn’t know you that well but was bothered with your first impression

⠀ › ⠀taylor would try to warm up to you but you make her feel so out of place with how flashy you are

⠀ › ⠀ben and aiden don’t know your reputation since they’re new students but when tyler suddenly revealed everything when he started complaining about you; aiden was entertained with your rivalry

sorrel house

⠀ › ⠀you found the random lady who asked you to go inside very.. weird.

⠀ › ⠀only went in because the others said sure, you just had to be nice.

⠀ › ⠀you felt chills down your spine when you saw the phantom but just like tyler, you chose to brush it off.

phantom world

⠀ › ⠀by this time, you still hated them. (you probably shit talked them too)

⠀ › ⠀when you all got locked in the room, you felt panic until you just thought of using them as ���meat shields’

⠀ › ⠀you and tyler had a whole fight about what matters most in the moment until ashlyn had to break it up

⠀ › ⠀the first time you were put in severe danger, you used the others as an advantage to survive.

⠀ › ⠀however, this caused problems. the next night; you would be in the same place again.

⠀ › ⠀at some point you’d have to apologize. the next time you were put in danger; it was logan near you. the first thing you had to do was.. apologize? are you fucking serious.

⠀ › ⠀due to the panic of the near-death experience, you stammered out an apology and begged him to help (took a few corrections since you were screaming curse words)

general headcanons

⠀ › ⠀when you flex your expensive things, aiden would suddenly bring up something more expensive (it becomes a debate on whos is more expensive. between the two, aiden’s having fun and you’re just getting upset.)

⠀ › ⠀tyler took the longest warming up to you

⠀ › ⠀there would be a lot of times when you would get into fights because of how opinionated you can be.

⠀ › ⠀you’re pretty much forced to be friends with them. it’s ride or die. no matter how much you hate them.

“i can’t do this anymore, i swear to god, i’m so stressed! and stress causes pimples! and restless nights cause eyebags! i’m gonna get eyebags and pimples!” you panicked “now’s not the time to worry about that!” tyler screamed, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the phantom chasing you.

[angel2el]

DONE WITH YOU (ELVIS PRESLEY) -- PART ONE

Hello everyone! Part one is now out! For those who don't know, this is my first ever series about Elvis leaving the Colonel. Thanks so much to my lovely editor @landlockedmermaid77 for all of her help and lovely friendship.

Please leave a comment or ask letting me know what you think!

-----

Jerry wakes up at 2:30am to a slow, lazy knock on his door.  He lifts his head up slowly.  He’s exhausted from the previous night of partying.  Slowly, he makes his way out of bed toward his hotel room’s door.  Another knock.

Groggily, he opens the door.  Elvis is standing, shivering, in nothing but boxers and a white night shirt with his arms crossed across his chest, eyes down.

“E..” Jerry starts.  Elvis takes in a breath and puts a hand on his brow.

“Jerry…Jerry, I can’t do this anymore.”  

Jerry opens the door and beckons for Elvis to come in.

“What happened?”  Jerry puts a hand on Elvis’s back.  It’s burning hot and covered in cold sweat.  Elvis groggily makes his way to the couch and sits down.

“The…the colonel’s got me workin’ like a god damn dog, Jerry,” Elvis mumbles exhaustedly.  Jerry sits next to him and rubs his back gently.

“Have you been sick?” Jerry asks.  “You’re burning like a damn piece of coal…”

“I threw up…I don’t know how many times.  I been up all night, Jerry.  Can’t get an ounce of sleep.”  Elvis sniffles and wipes his eyes.  There’s eyeliner smudged around them.  Poor thing couldn’t even get his makeup off, Jerry thinks.

“You need rest, Elvis.  You got two shows tomorrow.  You sleep in my bed tonight, alright?”  He turns to look at his bed and only turns around when he hears a sob.

Elvis shakes his head as his whole body shakes with a sob.  

“I can’t Jerry…I-I can’t do another show…I done hundreds.  Thousands. Thousands and thousands and all that…all that fat bastard wants is more.  Suckin’ my blood like a damn vampire.”

“I…I don’t like him.  You know that, E.  But think about the fans.”

“All I think about is the fans.  All the Colonel ever thinks about is himself.  Wh-why can’t nobody think about me for once?”  Elvis puts his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry, E.  I wish I could do more.  Just come to my bed and try to get a little rest.”

“I don’t wanna go to sleep if it means I have to wake up,” Elvis sobs.

“Don’t you say that.  Don’t say that, Elvis.  You’ll feel better in the morning.  Have you called ‘Cilla?”

“Twice.”

“She hasn’t picked up?  She’s just sleeping, Elvis.  You need to get to bed.”  Jerry helps Elvis up and guides him toward the bed, easing him onto it.

“I can’t sleep without my pills, Jerry.  Go get my pills.”

“You didn’t take em?”

“I tried.  They all came right back up.” Elvis turns onto his side and curls up a little.

Jerry places a hand on Elvis’s forehead.  “You in any pain?”

“I got no clue.  My whole body just feels numb.”

“It’s those damn pills, Elvis.  You’re killing yourself with those.”

“You act like I got a choice, Jerry.  I can’t do anything without ‘em.”

“You can sleep right now.  That’s all I need from you.”

“Bring me another blanket.”

“You’re burning.  I can’t do that.  You know it.”

Jerry sits down on the bed next to Elvis and brushes the hair out of his face.  “Close your eyes.  I’ll get you some fever medicine in the morning.”

Jerry turns on the lamp and opens a book on the other side of the bed.  In the light, Elvis looks worse.  His face is white as a sheet and eyes red with tears.  Jerry can only pray he’s well enough to perform in the morning.

Sleep comes to Elvis quicker than he thought it would,but it doesn’t last long.  He’s up only an hour later to a pain in his stomach and rising nausea.  He shoots up.  Jerry jolts up next to him, having fallen asleep as well.

Elvis stumbles to the bathroom and loses all the rest of the water he’d been able to get down before collapsing by the toilet.  Jerry rushes into the bathroom, rubbing Elvis’ back.

“You’re sick as a dog, Elvis…” Jerry puts a hand to the other man’s forehead.

Elvis whimpers slightly at the touch,“I need my…my pills, Jerry.”

“I can’t do that for you.  You got two shows in the daytime.  Let’s get back to bed.”

Elvis silently shakes with a sob, a tear running down his cheek.  Jerry brushes the hair out of his face and puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “Don’t cry, Elvis.  You’re gonna be alright,” he attempts to comfort him.

“I’m done with that Colonel,” Elvis manages to get out.

“We can talk to him in the mornin’ about that.  D’you think you can go back to bed or are you in too much pain?”

Elvis wipes his eyes.  “I can sleep,” he whispers.  Jerry grabs him by the sides and helps him up and into bed.  

“You can have the whole bed to yourself again, E.  You can even have the whole suite to yourself if you want me out of here,” Jerry says.  Elvis nods.

“I want you to stay.  Just stay in that chair and make sure the Colonel don’t come in here,” Elvis says, pulling the covers over himself.  Jerry nods.

–

Jerry isn’t sure how much time passes before the phone is ringing and sunlight is pouring through the window.  Elvis is curled up on his side, shaking like a leaf but still asleep.  Jerry, too, had fallen asleep.  He goes over to the phone and picks it up.

“Yes?” Jerry says quietly.

“Jerry?”

“‘Cilla?”

“Yeah, it’s me.  I heard the phone ringing last night but I didn’t get up.  Thought it might be Elvis, but when I called his hotel room first thing this morning, he didn’t pick up.  Is everything ok?” Priscilla sounds worried.

“Something’s wrong with him, ‘Cilla.”

“What do you mean?” her voice is a little frantic now.

“He’s got a fever, and he’s apparently been throwin’ up all night.”

“All night?  Should I fly out and see him?” Priscilla asks.

“Maybe.  I think he needs someone right now.” Jerry glances at Elvis.  He’s pale and has his arms crossed over his chest.

“Is he in pain?” Priscilla asks.

“I’m not sure.  Those pills are keepin’ him numb, far as I know.  But I’m not letting him take any more.”

“Good.  Those pills are killing him, Jerry,” Priscilla agrees.  Suddenly, Elvis stirs, and Jerry turns to look at him.  He weakly starts to sit up.

“He’s up now, ‘Cilla…”

“Can I talk to him?”

Jerry nods,  “Yeah.  Elvis, come over here.  ‘Cilla’s on the phone and she wants to talk to you.”

“‘Cilla?” Elvis slurs out.  

“Yeah.  She wants to talk to you.  She’s worried,” he says.

“I…I can’t get out of bed,” Elvis says, looking down at his legs.

“He says he can’t get out of bed.”

“I’m flyin’ out,” Priscilla says,  “Tell him I’ll be there by tonight at 9pm, will you?”

“Of course,”  Jerry says,  “Bye now.”

“Bye bye.”

Jerry hangs up the phone and turns to Elvis,  “She’s gonna be here by 9 tonight, E.”

“Oh…okay,” Elvis says drowsily.

“You in any pain?”  Jerry asks and Elvis nods.

“My stomach is killin’ me.  And…and my head.  And my…my right ankle.  Did I tell you I rolled it on my way to your room?”

“No, you didn’t,”  Jerry approaches the bed and lifts the covers off to look at Elvis’s ankle.  It’s bruised and slightly swollen.  He winces.

“It hurts like hell, Jerry,” Elvis says.  

“You can wear a brace while you perform today.  You got a matinee show at 12 and another show at 9, ok?”

“I…I can’t,” Elvis says softly.

“You have to,” Jerry says solemnly.  Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door.

Jerry rushes over to open it.  It’s the Colonel.  He barges into the room and sees Elvis on the bed, in pain, pale, shaking.

“Mr. Presley, what seems to be the issue here?  You should already be in the dressing room getting ready,” the Colonel scolds.

“He’s not feeling well, Colonel.  He’s been sick all night, feverish, throwing up…there’s something wrong with him,” Jerry explains.  Elvis looks down to avoid making eye contact with the Colonel. 

“Dr. Nick will give him all the necessary medication he needs to be able to perform today,” the Colonel says, glaring at Elvis,  “Isn’t that right, Mr. Presley?”

“...yessir.  That’s right,” Elvis mumbles exhaustedly.  

Elvis shifts in bed.

“He needs something to settle his stomach.  And some pain medication for his ankle.  That’s all, though,” Jerry says firmly, “All these pills you’re pumping him full of are doing nothing but hurting him.  I’ll send somebody to get ‘em for you, Elvis.”

The Colonel frowns.  

“Are you his manager now, Jerry?  As far as I know, I am the one who makes the calls as to what goes in his body.”

Jerry stands up, walking closer to the Colonel.  

“I ain’t his manager.  I’m just a concerned citizen, Mr. Parker, and I’ll be taking care of him in between the shows.”

The Colonel is taken aback, but grits his teeth.  

“I am his manager, Mr. Schilling.  I will decide what happens to him.”

“Actually, I think we should let him decide,” Jerry says, turning to Elvis.  He’s still looking down at his lap.  

“Elvis, would you rather have me or the Colonel decide what happens to you from here on out?”

“....” Elvis swallows.  

“You,” he whispers.

The Colonel frowns.  

“Very well, then.  Mr. Schilling will prepare you for the shows today, and if that’s what you prefer, he can take care of you from here on out.  Since you don’t need me, I also assume you don’t need my…financial support.”

Jerry shakes his head. The Colonel’s trying to manipulate Elvis again.  He gets closer to the Colonel.  

“Don’t you try trickin’ him right now, Colonel.  He’s vulnerable, and all you give a damn about is using him to make more money.”

Jerry glances back at Elvis, who has his head down.

“That isn’t true.  I care deeply about Mr. Presley,” Colonel Parker says.  “Which is why I’m trying to help him through these next two shows.”

Jerry grits his teeth and shakes his head,“You don’t care.”

Elvis draws Jerry’s attention with a deep, shaky inhale.  

“It’s alright, Jerry,” he says softly, “I…I can do these shows.  Can’t let the fans down.”  He sounds more than sad.  Regretful.  Almost as if…almost as if he regrets ever becoming a musician.

“Wonderful,”  The Colonel smiles, a chilling, evil grin that makes Jerry’s stomach turn,“The dressing room is waiting for you now,” he says, gesturing for Elvis to come over.  Elvis slowly stands up, wincing in pain, and makes his way over to the Colonel.

Elvis puts a hand to his brow and speaks in a low, exhausted voice. 

“Let’s go.”

—-

Jerry watches quietly as Elvis gets his makeup done.  His breathing is shallow 

and slightly labored as he looks down at his hands, which are trembling.  

“You know you don’t have to perform today,” Jerry says softly,“You’re not in a good state right now.”  Elvis glances at the Colonel, talking to a costume designer about twenty feet away.

“I…I can’t defy the Colonel,” Elvis says, his voice barely above a whisper.  The makeup artist can hear him, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Just last night, you were talking about leaving him for good,” Jerry says, staring into Elvis’s eyes.

“That was delusional.  That was the fever talking.  I can’t let him go.”

“God, Elvis, why not?  Can’t you see he’s hurting you?  You’ve done nearly a thousand shows this year alone,”  Jerry counters.

Elvis shakes his head.  

“I can’t leave him.  Not after all he’s done for me.”

“All done,” the makeup artist says softly,“You’re ready to perform, Mr. Presley.”

“You need rest, Elvis,” Jerry says quietly.

“I….I need to perform right now.  I can rest between the shows.”

“Elvis, this just seems so dramatic.  You were just talking about leaving him…”

“I don’t know if it’s possible, Jerry.  That’s all,”  Elvis stands up slowly,  “I gotta get on stage now.”

“Talk to you after the show, Elvis.”  

Elvis nods.  

“I’m serious.  We need to talk,”  Elvis just nods and walks away.  Jerry follows him backstage and takes his seat.

As soon as the curtain comes up and Elvis is revealed to the audience, the room’s noise is deafening to Jerry.  He presses his lips together as he realizes he forgot to give Elvis any medicine before the show tonight.  He knows Elvis can do it.  He just doesn’t want him to.

Jerry puts a hand to his brow and sighs, watching Elvis sing his heart out like he always does.   He gets up and walks around the hotel a little, then goes to the bathroom.

At 12:34, Jerry comes back from the bathroom to check on Elvis.  He’s pushing strongly, but his face is white as a sheet, and his left leg won’t stop shaking.  Jerry leaves to call Priscilla after a few minutes.

At 1:08, Jerry returns to see Elvis with a hand on his brow and his chest rising up and down with shallow, desperate breaths.

When 1:45 comes, Elvis is drenched in sweat and gripping his microphone stand for his life.  His knuckles are white, and his whole body trembles as if he’s completely relying on it to keep him from falling down.

Jerry almost wants to go on stage and stop the show.  He sits backstage, biting his nails and tapping his foot.  When Can’t Help Falling in Love finally starts, Jerry feels a sense of both urgency and relief.

Elvis is pushing through the song.  Sweat is pouring down his face, and he can barely catch his breath, but he gets to the last verse and tilts his head to the sky as he finishes the song, almost as if he’s asking God for mercy.

The song finishes and the curtain starts descending.  Jerry lets out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding in.  Elvis keeps his head up to the sky.  His breathing is ragged, uneven, and can only be described as desperate.  He is unmistakably spent.  

Jerry starts to approach Elvis as the curtain comes closer to the ground.  Elvis doesn’t move a muscle.

Jerry moves a little closer, trying to get a read on Elvis’s expression.  He can’t see any sign of emotion on his friend’s face.

Elvis breathes in loudly and deeply.

He breathes out.

Jerry blinks and turns to Marty, who’s approaching from the other side of the stage.

When he turns back to look at Elvis, he finds him on the ground with his hand over his chest and his eyes fluttering shut.

----

Loves, thank you so much for reading. Let me know what you think!

[wolfiemcwolferson]

Piarles drabble

Charles hides the letters from Kathy - tucked underneath his textbooks and that box that is full of the tiny notebooks they carry around in their pockets. She says that she doesn’t mind it, but Charles knows that if the roles were reversed - if he had been the one to get one of those typewritten letters from some general - he wouldn’t want to see her read letters from her very alive future mate. 

He knows that it would break his heart and so he hides them underneath the textbooks and the box of tiny notebooks that are smeared in blood and morphing and neat scrawled notes of illness and disease and the last words of dying alphas. Those things hide the smell attached to the letters. 

Kathy knows they’re there, but she never says anything and they’re on opposite shifts in the hospital so she’s not in the room when Charles is heading to sleep, so she never sees the way Charles takes them out one by one to read the words scrawled there. 

Words that carry him through endless shifts. Words that carry him through nights in which he aches for Pierre. 

The one that arrived this week is older than the one that arrived two weeks before and it smells terrible. Like mud and rot and decay, but underneath it - if Charles holds it right to his nose - he can smell Pierre. Cedar and thyme and home. 

There is no poetry in this one and Charles knows that the dismal conditions Pierre writes about have improved because the letter dated after this has a much more cheery tone, but it still makes him ache to read Pierre write how desperately he wants to come home - how desperately he wishes to hold Charles tightly in the cottage that Charles’ papa built. 

It’s a common thing they hold onto. 

Charles pinned the drawing that Pierre had sent him his first month - the one he did from memory of the cottage against the coastline - above his bed. It’s a frequent feature in their letters because it’s the thing they hold onto. 

Pierre will come home. Pierre will come home and they will mate and they will live in the cottage by the seaside and there will be no war - no more war.

Kathy waves at Charles as they pass each other in the hall. Charles headed for their room, Kathy headed into her shift. She can’t see the letter tucked underneath Charles’ arm, but he feels a bit like a criminal knowing that it’s there - that he’s hiding it from her. 

But, this one was stark white. White and clean and there is no scent on it and Charles worries.

He worries because there’s a cottage that he cannot live in alone.

As soon as he’s shoved inside his room, he’s ripping it open, praying to a god that only Pierre believes in anymore that Pierre is not writing from a hospital 80 miles north of here where it’s been postmarked. 

Charles’ hands shake when he pulls the thin paper free - his eyes darting over the steady handwriting: R&R for ten days. Arrive middle of April. Using Alex’s place.

Middle of April. 

Middle of April.

Pierre is coming in four days and Charles squeezes his eyes shut so that his tears don’t spill down his cheeks. He can last four more days.

[cry-ptidd]

Babycard not liking/trusting men for obvious reasons and sticking to the women of Hellsing manor?

Seras is his favorite.

[simply-mxrie]

currently in my dorm rewatching the tyrus bench scene and screaming (i am literally a junior in college)

[fabledteeth]

anybody else play a cleric durge and felt like they had to come up with some ridiculous reason as to why their pc would wake up believing they worship a god that’s not bhaal? ophelia’s is “i can tell i used to worship a god and can’t remember who, but i have some sick fucking lightning powers and i love carnage destruction and chaos, so that probably means talos is my god. yeah that checks out”

and it’s just. not even fucking true. she was absolutely Not a cleric before the nautiloid, and she definitely didn’t worship talos. he just happened to fit the description

i like to think talos sees her going through this process and just decides to feed into her delusions and grant her cleric powers because he thinks it’s funny

[vampyriix]

god i’m never gonna get over the fact that Ed stayed behind for Oswald. Gotham had done nothing but make his life worse and he finally had the opportunity to escape that and yet decided that being with Oswald was more important.

[lgbtiwtv]

the more I think about rashidmand the more I’m like. that whole thing definitely has to do with daniel right? like nobody else is there. of course yeah it could be a fun little game louis and armand are playing but like. it’s not being played for anyone but daniel. because there’s history there that he’s forgotten. so like. what was the purpose? to tease? to see how long it’d take him to notice, if he did at all? dramatic reveal? jog his memory? to what end? like….I genuinely and truly think that some part of devils minion happened in the 70s and daniel wanted armand to change him and obviously armand didn’t want to so. instead of daniel’s self-destruction leading to getting turned it led to armand erasing/editing his memories, because he wanted daniel to live a human life. but why do all this now??? because of louis’ wish to retell his story? because daniel’s sick? because something big is brewing in the vampire world and they want daniel close by? all of the above??? and most importantly how is daniel gonna feel when he remembers everything and realizes what armand did

[chibishortdeath]

Hmmm I kinda want to make a side blog for RPG Maker game development related things to be able to talk to more experienced people in that community, but at the same time I both don’t really think I’d get much attention and don’t want to accidentally spoil my own game (^^ ; ).

I have a rough story, concept doodles, a tileset, some character sprites, an enemy that walks around but can’t initiate battle yet (if I even decide to have a battle system), a couple rooms with some events, and a functioning run button, but I’m still lost on how to do much else at the moment. Especially since this program has the ability for scripting, meaning I’ll probably have to learn and actually retain another coding language.

So, I’m not very far at all lol. Idk how well that’d go over on the established fandom website, but eh.

[leieryx]

god I am so TIRED of being a model minority sometimes

[cherrysnax]

when I was a kid I was rlly upset that art teachers didn’t like anime-inspired art, and then I realized it wasn’t the anime aspect. jumping into highly stylized art without knowing the fundamentals AND with a refusal to learn them is a bad combo

[ezraphobicsoup]

music(als) (screaming)

falsettos specifically (screaming louder)

[placeinthisworld]

.