#but every time i do i come to the realization that a lot of people engage with reading in some.....

[warping-realities]

Beautiful Things

Hey, everyone! This story is part of the Viral Transformation funfarre proposed by the one and only @occamstfs, in celebration of hitting 2K followers! Congrats, bro, you totally deserve it. He’s one of our top authors and never fails to bring the best stories.

Before I dive in, I gotta give you a heads-up that this is a story about corruption, where good people turn into the worst kind of folks. If that’s a sensitive topic for you, I’d recommend not moving forward. Trust me, in the original project, things were way worse, but after chatting with the MAN himself, who helped me with some edits, I softened the tone of the story a bit. If you’re interested in the original version, I can post it later, but this is the final cut.

That said, I hope you all enjoy it and join me in celebrating this awesome author!"

Alois was strolling mindlessly in the morning towards the student exchange center in Seattle, where a bunch of fresh-off-the-boat students from all over the world were gathering for the adaptation phase of their exchange semester. The eighteen-year-old Austrian was loving the experience of taking a gap year before diving back into his studies in Vienna, where he planned to become a doctor. As he walked down the busy street, on what should be the only sunny day of the year, he spotted one of those types he had seen around the city. They were all buff and tall, with wavy, well-groomed hair, and the big ol' mustache that defined them, giving off the vibe of some douchebag brotherhood or whatever. This one in particular was jamming out to music on headphones that looked straight outta the nineties, just like his outfit, which consisted of Levi’s jeans, a white tee, a dark jacket, and combat boots. The whole look cranked the douche factor up to eleven, making Alois's heart race a bit as a shiver of attraction ran through him. When the guy passed by Alois, he shot a look at the smaller red-headed man, dripped with arrogance while a smirk played at the corners of his lips, like he knew some secret that Alois was clueless about. To make things worse, the music blaring from his headphones was so loud that Alois couldn’t help but catch a snippet.

“Please, staaaayyyy…”

That stupid song again. At first, Alois thought it was kinda interesting, despite all the religious preaching in it, which rubbed the young atheist the wrong way. What he didn’t realize was that the singer was all about filming a lot of TikTok videos to promote his work, videos that inevitably flooded the social media feeds of a gay dude with an unfounded attraction to that type of guy. A type that seemed to be multiplying on the streets of Seattle every damn day. Sure, Benson Boone was from Monroe, just a few miles away, but still… Maybe he was looking at things from the wrong angle, maybe it was the singer who was cashing in on the style of the group he and his fellow exchange students had dubbed the Mustache Gang.

The fact is, after several months, the hype around the song should’ve died but apparently that was still far from happening. Trying to leave the discomfort aside Alois headed to the coffee shop that had quickly become his favorite spot during his short stay in the city. As he walked along, head down like most introverts do, he got lost in thought about what kind of work the exchange agency would hook him up with, until his daydreaming was interrupted when those familiar chords hit his ears again.

“I want you, I need you, oh God…”

But this time, someone had slapped a cheerful electronic beat onto the song, which not only butchered it but also made it even more annoying. Looking for the source of that cacophony, he lifted his head and glanced to the side. He could’ve sworn he saw a chubby dude coming his way, but now there was no sign of him, just another one of those big-mustached douchebags strutting around with the swag all of them seemed to have, along with the usual cocky grin. Dressed in a white tank that showed off his defined arms and hairy chest. There was no one else close to Alois on the street at that moment, which was a blessing, since his dick was starting to stir at that sight. But that also freaked him out. Where the hell did that damn music come from? Was he seriously imagining things now?

Distracted and worried about his sanity, he stepped into the coffee shop. At that moment, the place was almost empty; there was just an old dude, well past his prime, fiddling with his phone, looking like he was in a bad mood while he seemed to be listening to something that deeply disgusted him through the giant headphones he was wearing. Apparently, the use of those things was a trend around there.

Passing by the old guy, Alois headed to the counter and ordered his usual coffee with cream and sugar. As he made his way back to the exit, still freaking out about his mental state, disaster struck. Clumsy as ever, he tripped and faceplanted on the floor, coffee spilling everywhere and staining a good chunk of his clothes.

“Alois, du bist dumm…”

He said stunned in embarrassment, as he turned to the side, starting to get up. His view landed on black combat boots that ended in large calves covered in denim, leading up to thighs as thick as they come. But the old man was wearing a suit, no? Clearly not, since the Levi’s pants had been replaced by a black hoodie that concealed a massive chest, which the sleeves were stretched to the limit by powerful biceps. The grand torso gave way to a handsome face framed by wavy brown hair, and right in the center, the ever-present slick mustache that even the guy’s prescription glasses couldn’t diminish the douchebag effect. With his eyes closed and a focused expression, he didn’t even seem to notice what just happened right next to him.

But Alois couldn’t help but wonder, where the hell did that old guy go? While trying to figure out when the old dude left the shop and the Mustache Gang member took his spot at the table, the man seemed to wake up. Smiling and fixing his hair, he finally noticed that a kid was trying to get up from a puddle of coffee right next to him.

“Need a hand, little bro?” he asked, though not with a genuinely empathetic expression; on the contrary, the grin he shot at Alois did little to hide how much he found the situation hilarious.

“No, I’m good, thanks!” Alois replied, finishing getting up and bolting out of the shop as the guy burst into loud laughter behind him. Apparently, this dude wasn’t just rocking the look of a douchebag. Rushing to wipe the coffee off his hoodie, Alois continued his march to his destination. Luckily, no other mortifying events unfolded along the way. Upon entering the classroom, he passed by Charles, a French dude with long blonde hair and delicate features, who was checking something on his iPad while also rocking a pair of those old-school headphones. Not wanting to disturb his classmate, he didn’t say hi and headed further back in the room, where bis friends Arjun and Qian, hailing from India and Taiwan respectively, were hanging out. As he passed Charles, he heard that stylized version of Benson Boone’s song again.

“I found my mind, I'm feelin' sane

It's been a while, but I'm finding my faith…”

Apparently, he wasn’t going crazy after all. He quickly turned towards the source of the music only to find one of those big-mustached douchebags and no music font at all. But he could’ve sworn that… wasn’t there another person there? A kid with long, well-kept blonde hair? Well, his hair was definitely blonde and well-kept, just like the his mustache. Wearing a tank top that showed off his arms and staring at everyone in the room with an air of immense superiority that made Alois feel torn between attraction and disgust.

Resuming his path back to his friends, he discreetly adjusted his boner in his sweatpants while sitting down and trying to forget about that damn song.

“So, who’s the jerk sitting at the front of the class like he owns the place?”

“We’ve been wondering that too, man,” Arjun, the skinny Indian boy with long limbs replied.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” continued Qian, who was more compact, as their teacher, Mr. Sizemore, spoke to the class.

“Guys, today I brought the manager of one of the establishments where you might work. Chuck works at a pub called Shooters; it’s an opportunity we typically offer to our students over twenty one. However, the place has expanded and now also has a Hookah Lounge, the Puff Palace. Although I must say the best option would be for no one here to inhale anything, this is still a decent job opportunity. Without further ado, here’s Mr. Chuck Morris.”

The guy smiled arrogantly before stretching and scratching his neck, causing the lightweight, almost see-through fabric of his tank top to expose his nipples, which didn’t seem to bother him at all. He took his sweet time getting up, like he was in some kind of private show.

But in Alois’s opinion, it would’ve been better if he had stayed seated and shut up, because the first words that came out of his mouth to the class raised a wave of utter dissatisfaction.

“Hey there, guys! Happy to finally leave your miserable countries behind and be in the greatest nation in the world?” The conversation didn’t get any better after that, and Alois was sure that whatever happened, he’d never set foot in that bar called Shooters.

After class, he was chatting animatedly with Arjun as they headed back to their dorm.

“I’d love to know what that illiterate would do if he knew he was talking to future doctors, engineers, journalists… while he’s gonna spend the rest of his life working in a bar serving people like him,” Alois commented.

“Probably nothing would change. People like him always think they’re superior just because of how they look and because they were born here in the States. Doesn’t matter if they live in a trailer and rely on government assistance.”

“True, ahhh, I want a coffee; I spilled mine all over this morning. Do you want one too?” Alois asked as they passed by his favorite coffee shop again.

“No, I’m good. I’ll go ahead; we’ll catch up later,” Arjun replied, continuing on while Alois entered the coffee shop. After carefully getting his to-go coffee to avoid a repeat of that morning’s fiasco, he turned and headed to the exit when he heard the synthetic chords again, accompanied by that familiar lyric.

“Don't take these beautiful things that I've got…”

This time, he saw where the sound was coming from—a Latino guy a bit older than him was listening through those giant headphones. Feeling sure he wasn’t losing it, Alois allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, only to get a major scare. In the blink of an eye, where the guy had been, now sat one of those big-mustached dudes, this one bigger and more muscular than the others, but with the same wavy hair and infamous mustache.

Alois was stunned, staring at the man, who in turn pointed a finger at him as if to assert something and gave him a smile that freaked the young guy out to his core.

Not knowing how to handle that situation, Alois bolted from the shop, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Still in shock, he entered the room he shared with Qian in the dorm, where his friend was sitting on his bed, fiddling with his phone, still dressed in the button-up shirt and khakis he wore to class.

“Dude, you won’t believe what just happened. You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but… I... I forgot... How bizarre, I'm sure it was important Qian! Qian? Is everything okay? Qian…? You good?” he asked, realizing his friend hadn’t heard a word he said, just to see his face contort and his eyes roll back as if he were convulsing, and then… puff. Right in front of him stood another member of the Mustache Gang, wavy hair, slick mustache, a chiseled face and a muscular body on display.

“You good??? Qian? Who the hell is Qian? I’m Ken, you foreigner dumbass.” Said the young man of Chinese descent, the irony of using that kind of comment not even crossing his arrogant and brutish mind. “You’re here only because I couldn’t score with an American ass. But a hole’s a hole…”

“I… what…?”

“You just accept a quick hookup on Grindr man, It's not that difficult. Gonna act all shy now? Here in America, that kind of behavior doesn’t fly. Either you do what you came to do or bounce, but then you'll miss out on all this,” the guy replied, flexing his powerful muscles while giving him an arrogant grin. Alois was thinking about where exactly he was and what he was doing there.

“So ginger, what's it gonna be?”

.....

When he got to the dorm for international students  after getting his ass wrecked by the massive schlong of his Grindr hookup, who he discovered was co-manager of Shooters and Puff Palace alongside Chuck —those two even shared an apartment above the pub—he hated himself for getting into that mess just for a quick lay. Yet, at the same time, it was the best fuck he’d ever had. As he stripped down and got ready to shower and wash off the sweat and sex smell from his body, the distinct ping of a Grindr message caught his attention. Opening the app, he found a new message from Ken Lee.

“Hey ginger I think you’re gonna like this.” Ignoring all common sense, thinking it might be a nude, he clicked the link the other guy sent along with the message. Strangely enough, it was a clip from a podcast where a young woman interviewed a flamboyant man, who was wearing a bright and flashy suit, both chatting animatedly. Everything about them screamed obnoxious  starting with their shrill voices that didn’t stop talking for a second. Losing interest and wondering why a guy like Ken would send that to him, Alois let the video play as he headed to the bathroom in the room he occupied alone in the dorm.

“… so, Benson Boone? He’s such a total hottie, girl!”

“Don’t even get me started, Yasmin! I melt for a guy like that! I’d do him in a heartbeat.”

“Me too, Nico! But with that whole Christian boy vibe, I’m not sure he’s got the moves.”

“Girl, it’s just marketing. A guy like that, with that body? And anyone rocking a mustache like that knows exactly what to do with a girl… or a man.”

“Nico you slut, I heard some rumors…”

“I know, girl! I wouldn’t doubt he’s hooked up with more than a few, after all, a man has his needs, and to a guy like him a hole’s a hole like my brother used to say”

“Oh, my brother always said the same thing. What’s going on that there aren’t any more men like him in America?”

“I’ll tell you, I don’t get it either. Everywhere I look, I only see snowflakes and wimps. They say they are our allies, but this talk about toxic masculinity has turned all of them into whiners. Of course I prefer not to be attacked in the street by a bunch of homophobes, but sometimes all we want is someone to fuck us senseless And no one does it like a good douchebag, and don't come to me with that talk that this is a white, cis man's thing, yada yada yada... all due respect to the cause, but we need more men like this hottie, not less. Real American men, who know what they want and make it happen, I don't care what they do with their lives as long as they fuck me right. So I vote for more douchebags, of all races, creeds and sexual orientations, sis!

“True, Nico! I wish I could make that happen…”

“Me too, girl, but how about we listen to his updated song while we wait for the real American men to come back?”

“Sure, girl, this version is way better and more danceable, perfect for a man to sweep me off my feet. Play it!”

Then, the chords that had been haunting Alois all day started playing, and he quickly turned on his way to the bathroom to stop the video—there’s no way he’d want to listen to that on his own.

“Mm. Please stay. I want you, I need you, oh God…”

As he turned towards the source of the sound, he froze, hearing it as a feeling of numbness invaded his head and took over his body, barely letting him take a step back before being flooded with memories and sensations that weren’t his. His childhood in Austria was being replaced by one  in Virginia, time spent studying swapped for sports practice, the memory of a skinny physique giving way to a powerful, muscular body, atheism giving way to worship at church every Sunday, even if he spent most of the time distracted, checking out the girls present. And speaking of girls, nights of sex, just banging them in the ass to keep his virginity intact, and when a girl refused, there was always a twink willing to step in. After all hole’s a hole. Then there was the end of school five years ago and the move to Seattle, working as a personal trainer during the day and a bartender at Shooters at night, the apartment shared with Chuck and Ken, and all the possible and imaginable orgies they had . He knew that, as a good Christian, he’d eventually have to give it all up, settle down, and start a family, but until then, the single life was too good to pass up, and he was gonna enjoy it. And even after he gets married if the desire arises, well a man has his needs and one thing he has learned is that no one is a better bottom than a slut boy desperate for a fuck.

“No… no… what the hell…. This can’t be real…” Alois grumbled as he tried to move towards the phone that he now knew had to be the source of this whole bizarre situation. However, with every step he took, his muscles expanded. His skinny chest exploded into slabs of meat that are now pecs, below his abs form into six brick-like blocks, and his arms and legs thicken to a considerable size. His hair grew longer in well-kept waves, and that infamous mustache sprouted and grew on a more masculine and angular face. At the same time, the room he was in transformed, and he found himself on the other side of the city, in the place he had just left a little over 40 minutes ago.

When he got to the phone, Allen adjusted it, fixing the camera angle. That video was gonna be perfect for his TikTok, especially with that new version of Benson Boone’s song, one he’d used in a bunch of other videos, but this remix version was fire.

Fixing his hair and flexing his powerful muscles, he smiled at the camera.

“Yo, what’s up, fam? Today’s heavy lifting day and a wild night at Shooters. If anyone’s interested in what I’m packing here, just swing by or hit up the link to my OnlyFans in the bio. Only for the grown folks, are you really gonna miss out on this?” he wrapped up, crossing his arms in front of his body and flashing one of those grins at the camera.

“Damn, that looks so good!” he said, posting the video on TikTok and heading towards the living room of the apartment he shared with Chuck and Ken, not even bothering to shower. He had a new client coming to the gym in the next hour, so why waste time on more than one shower? “Tonight’s gonna be lit for sure, guys,” he said, talking to his roommates.

“Are you talking about the Indian skinny boy who’s training with you?”

“Ugh, definitely not. Dudes like him are for when there are no other options. But it wouldn’t be a Friday night if Big Al didn’t get some real action.!” He said grabbing his cock and balls over his shorts, laughing. "I can't wait to get some ass." He concludes while shaking his huge cock out of his shorts and making everyone burst out laughing.

“We’re all gonna get some, man. Chuck’s been spreading the word in an exchange class; soon, it’ll be packed with foreign slutty chicks and twinks looking for an American dick, and we can bang them all we want, Red.” Said Ken with a mischievous grin.

"And God bless that! "Chuck added beside him with an identical smile, which was also mirrored on Allen's face.

...

Allen was sitting on a bench in front of the gym, waiting for his new student, a scrawny Indian dude from the exchange program named Arjun.

“You coming, bro?”

“Sorry, I’m on my way. Got held up.”

“So, meet me in the gym locker room so we don’t waste time. In the meantime, check this out,” Allen said, sending the link to Yas and Nico podcast, she was a hot babe even if she seems as dumb as a rock. Not that he cared much about that at all; she was hot, and that was good enough for him, and that Nico had a very fuckable butt. He didn’t even stop to think about why he was sending that video; it just felt like something he should do.

.....

While he was chilling on a bench in the gym locker room, mindlessly scrolling on his phone, he didn’t notice the transformation happening to his student right behind him. The skinny Arjun was rapidly inflating with muscles and attitude without Allen even realizing it. It was only when he looked up and saw a dude of Indian descent with silky hair and the infamous mustache, wearing nothing but gym shorts, casually scratching his powerful pecs.

“Art, you still haven’t finished getting dressed, you asshole? We gotta workout, take some pics of our pump for OnlyFans and hit the bar shift afterwards.”

“Chill, Al, I’m getting ready. It’s not like your muscles are gonna disappear because of a five minute delay in your workout.”

“Five minutes is already too much,” he replied, flexing his arms and smiling arrogantly. “Tonight, I want the max pump in these Beautiful Things I’ve got.”

[multific]

Two Pieces of a Puzzle

Simon "Ghost Riley x Reader

Summary: You are sent on a mission with the infamous LT, but you might have just as many talents as he does, if not more.

When you found yourself on a mission with a military man, Lieutenant Ghost, you knew you were in for a treat. 

He was a tall, rugged man with an attitude and a sharp wit that kept you on your toes. 

As you set out on your mission, you were quick to realize that you were in for an adventure unlike any other.

The Lieutenant was a seasoned soldier, and his experience showed in every move he made. 

He led you with precision and confidence, never hesitating to make tough decisions or take risks when necessary. 

You found yourself in awe of his leadership skills and his ability to think quickly on his feet.

He was impressive, you weren't going to lie about that.

As you navigated through the treacherous terrain of the dense forest and faced unexpected challenges, Ghost remained calm and collected, always finding a way to overcome whatever obstacles stood in your way.

A rescue mission.

The children and wife of an important politician were kidnapped and you received intel that they were in a hidden house in the middle of a dense forest up in the mountains. 

Of course, your way to the forest was an entire mission on it's own, but you heard the tales of the infamous Ghost.

His determination was infectious, and you found yourself pushing harder and digging deeper than you ever thought possible.

Every second you spent with him, you felt your movements sharpen.

It was inspirational.

But it wasn't just Ghost's military prowess that impressed you. 

On no.

The mystery. 

The secrets he held inside himself.

The mask.

That damned mask.

He also had a wicked sense of humour that kept your spirits high even in the darkest of moments. His jokes and witty remarks never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when the situation seemed dire. 

His jokes, even if they were tired and mostly military-related, did help your mood a lot. 

Despite the dangers you faced and the odds stacked against you, Ghost never wavered in his commitment to completing the mission. 

His unwavering dedication inspired me to do the same, and together we forged ahead, determined to succeed no matter what.

You got to the house, just the two of you, hiding behind trees as you assessed the situation.

"You take the back door, I take the front." he said.

"With all due respect, Sir, I believe Captain was clear, you get me here, I get in and them out. I'm called Shadow for a reason." you smirked and put your gun down.

Your time to shine.

You were a specialist in kidnapping and hostage situations. They always got you as you were quiet on your feet and you always got to the point fast. 

You always rescued the person or people and no one ever saw you coming.

In the end, your mission was a success.

As always.

The happy family was back together as you and Ghost walked back into base.

"That was impressive." you heard him say.

"Thank you, Sir. I do live to impress." you said with a smile.

As you celebrated our victory, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to work alongside such a remarkable man. 

And as you parted ways, you knew that you would always carry with you the lessons from your time together on that unforgettable mission.

Or so you thought.

You would say you were tipsy, others would call it drunk.

Ghost called it sexy.

You loved to see how his scary mask fell from his face. How his walls crumbled as you climbed into his lap and kissed him.

It was dark in the alley you followed him for a smoke.

He sat down on the steps and you followed suit.

"How did you do that? How did you get in and out without anyone seeing you?"

"The same way you got us through that block on the road or how you made me crawl on my stomach under a car so they wouldn't see us enter the woods. Skills, Sir. Years of training and skill."

It might have been your fault that you leaned in too close.

It might have been him when he looked at your lips. You weren't sure. But you were sure about one thing.

The way he kissed you spoke volumes.

He was touch starved and scared at the same time. 

But you did like the thrill of it.

And also because you were the same.

You two fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. 

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum

@asgards-princess-of-mischief @fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, OR TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

"Boobs," Robin blurted out.

"Pardon?" Vickie asked. "Did you just say boobs?"

"They're great, right?" Robin asked. "I like mine."

"I like mine, too," Vickie said in amusement.

"I, uh, also like other women's boobs," Robin revealed. "You ever think about other women's boobs?"

"I like to think about yours," Vickie said and Robin squeaked.

"Yeah, me too," Robin whispered. "I mean, I think about yours, too."

"I also think about dicks," Vickie said. "Is that okay?"

"For you, yes. It's just boobies for me," Robin said.

"I also like boobies and dicks," Steve spoke.

"Oh, shit, I forgot where we were for a moment," Robin said. "Sorry, Steve."

The three of them were huddled in the smallest storage closet known to man, hiding from a demogorgon.

"I figured you would forget all about me considering that Vickie is practically sitting in your lap, and your back is against mine. I just didn't want you making out against it," Steve said.

"Oh, come on, take one for the team, Steve!" Robin exclaimed and Vickie giggled.

"Yeah, not a chance. Would you let me make out against your back?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, not a chance," Robin said with a snort. "I'm sorry, Vickie. I was going to be a lot more eloquent in how I was going to tell you. But then all I could think about was the conversation Steve and I had in the car about you returning the Fast Times tape with it paused on Phoebe Cates's boobs and Steve insisted that it meant that you liked boobies. I just didn't want to admit that I got lucky and the girl of my dreams liked boobies like me."

"I did it on purpose," Vickie replied.

"Pardon?" Robin asked.

"I returned the tape to you on purpose. I knew you worked at Family Video, and you're so smart. You make such amazing observations, and I thought that I could give you a hint without making it so obvious, you know?" Vickie asked.

"Ha! I knew it!" Steve exclaimed. "It a total move. It's a great move!"

"Steve. . .shut the hell up," Robin laughed.

"So, the girl of your dreams, huh?" Vickie asked.

"Is that okay?" Robin asked.

"It's more than okay," she replied. "You're the girl of my dreams, Robin Buckley. I dream about you every night."

"Damn," Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. "Go ahead, Robin."

Steve felt them shifting, and he knew that Vickie was now straddling her lap, judging by the knees that were digging into him. He could feel Robin being pushed against him, and he could hear the sounds of their lips smacking together as they gasped. Suddenly, the door opened.

"Steve!" He heard Dustin's voice exclaim. "Did you know that Robin and Vickie were making out against your back?"

"Actually, I didn't know," Steve said sarcastically. "Thanks for telling me."

"You're welcome! El chased away that demogorgon for you guys," Dustin said. "You don't have to hide in the closet anymore!"

The three of them stood up as Dustin walked off. Vickie had just taken Robin's hand when Robin gasped with realization. She turned to Steve.

"Since when do you like boobies AND dicks?" Robin asked.

"I was running with Nancy and Jonathan the other day. They both fell on top of me to save me from the herd of demobats that suddenly flew overhead. I, uh, realized that it wasn't just Nancy," Steve blushed.

"Oh, so, you're in love with Jonathan, too?" Robin asked.

"I mean, yeah, but I also liked the way his dick accidentally pressed up against my ass," Steve replied, and Vickie giggled.

"Okay. . .I'm telling you right now that it's going to be tricky to return the favor," Robin said. "But I think I can manage three people making out against my back."

"Is that the weirdest thing that you two have done for each other?" Vickie laughed.

"No!" Robin and Steve said in unison.

"By the way. . .Jonathan Byers? With that haircut? He looks like a Beatles reject," Robin said teasingly.

"Oh, is this payback for me mocking you for your crush on Tammy Thompson?" Steve smirked, glancing at Vickie.

"You rat! You fink!" Robin hissed.

"Tammy Thompson?!" Vickie asked. "The muppet?!"

"I was young, okay!"

Robin pretended to be mad, but she couldn't help but smile when Vickie and Steve teamed up to affectionately mock her. Yeah, there was hope for them all.

[ikilledyvette]

(Part II of my seriously condensed 9-1-1 fic is here! Hope people enjoy, even though it's all a bit rushed!)

Part I

Sunday afternoon, Father’s Day. It’s always a hard day for Bobby, but usually, working helps him get through it. Today has been ... worse, and not just for him. Bobby finds Eddie on the couch, staring blankly into nothing. Bobby sits down beside him, a silent invitation to talk. Eddie doesn’t always take him up on it.

Today, Eddie says, “He hasn’t called,” and Bobby reminds him the day isn’t over yet. Eddie asks, “What if he doesn’t call?” and Bobby reminds him about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. 

“Every day you’re both alive is another chance to make things right,” Bobby says. “Don’t give up on tomorrow just yet, Eddie.”

Buck comes by then, and Eddie takes off to give the two some space. Buck says, “So, I had dinner with my parents the other night.” Bobby asks how it went, and Buck says, “Yeah, not great. They had, uh. A lot to say about me, you know. Going through a gay phase, or something. Wanting attention. Getting too old for, I don’t know. Making stuff up, I guess.”

Bobby nods. Cautiously, he says, “Sounds to me like they still don’t know you very well.”

Buck huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Thing is, everything they said ... it’s all stuff I’ve thought too, you know? Like, I’ve always done stupid things to get people’s attention. Their attention, Tommy’s. Yours. And if ... if what I’m feeling, who I am, is ... is real ... how could I have not known before, right? And I, I do know how I feel about Tommy—I like him so much, Bobby, you don’t even know—”

Bobby knows. Everyone knows. Buck’s joy is not subtle; it shines through him, a thing to behold.

“—but sometimes I still—” Buck breaks off and sighs. “Well, maybe that’s why I reacted so badly last night. Cause sometimes, I worry they’re right.”

“They’re not,” Bobby says immediately.

“How do you know that?”

And Bobby hesitates, not sure Buck is going to want to hear this right now. But still, he says, “Because I know you, kid.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, smiling a little. “You do. Bobby, I’m. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. Cause that night we talked about Tommy? You didn’t ask me to, to explain myself, or suggest maybe I wasn’t thinking things through. You didn’t need me to prove anything. You just accepted it, Tommy and me. You accepted me.” Buck shakes his head. “I told this to Maddie once, but sometimes it’s easier to lash out at the person you know is always going to forgive you. My parents, that’s not them, never will be. But you, uh. You’re safe.”

Bobby swallows a little at that. He wants to be that person for Buck—but Bobby know he isn’t, can’t be. He’s the reason his family is dead; he’s the reason so many people are dead. 

“I know I hurt you,” Bobby says. “If I hadn’t left the way I did, Gerrard would never have been captain, and—”

“You think this is about Gerrard? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.” But Buck’s voice is teasing, lessening the sting. “Yeah, I mean, working under Gerrard was ... rough, for a lot reasons. But that’s not ... Hen was the one mad at you for that.”

Bobby is aware. Hen had forgiven him pretty quickly, but her attitude towards Bobby on his first day back had been ... cool, to say the least. Bobby understands why, had prepared himself for Hen’s anger, potentially Chimney’s, too. They both went through a lot, working under Gerrard the first time around. Bobby had expected them to be upset.

He’s not sure why he hadn’t expected Buck to be.

“I’m not mad about Gerrard,” Buck tells him. “I’m mad that you lied. You—you were saying goodbye all day, only we didn’t know, I didn’t know. And you just—you were just going to leave?”

“I didn’t want—”

“You didn’t want us to change your mind,” Buck says, now visibly upset. “You—you said goodbye, Bobby. I didn’t realize it then, what you were doing, but—if you were gone, if you left, and I could have done something to stop it, stop you from, from—"

And Bobby realizes suddenly that Buck isn’t just talking about Bobby quitting.

“Hey,” Bobby says. “Listen. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“For how long?” Buck asks, and it’s not mockery this time. It’s pleading. Anxious. Young. For as much Buck has been through, for as much progress he’s made over the last seven years, Bobby is struck every now and then by how young Buck still is.

“That’s not up to me,” Bobby says and points up, skyward, at the man upstairs. “And listen, Buck, I won’t deny I was ... I was in a pretty dark place a couple of months ago. I should’ve been more honest about that. But I’m here, and I mean to stay here as long as I can. Okay? I’m not going anywhere without a fight, I promise.”

Buck inhales, a deep, shuddery breath, and Bobby hugs him, and Buck hugs Bobby back. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says again. “I think, maybe. I think I’ve just been really scared.”

Bobby hugs him a little tighter and says, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, kid.”

Footsteps on the stairs interrupt them a few minutes later. “Not to break up this long overdue moment,” Chimney says, “but Buck, you’ve got another visitor.”

Buck turns with a little dread, expecting his parents and not sure he’s ready to face them just yet—but it’s Maddie. This time, it’s Bobby and Chimney who disappear downstairs to give the Buckley siblings some space.

Maddie tells Buck that their parents are flying home. “I told them to go,” she says. “And not to come back.”

“Chimney told you,” Buck realizes, resigned and more than a little annoyed.

“Of course, he did,” Maddie says. She’s slightly exasperated but mostly worried. “Why didn’t you?” 

She thinks he’ll say something about not wanting to ruin Maddie’s relationship with their parents or Jee Yun’s relationships with her grandparents, and Buck does lead with that. But mostly, Buck’s ashamed of how he petty it was, bringing up Daniel. “I didn’t want you to think that I, I resented him,” he says. “I really don’t, Maddie. He was just a kid, and he never got the chance to grow up and, and I wish I could’ve given him that chance. I wish I could’ve met the person he would’ve become.”

“I know,” Maddie tells him, and reminds him that it’s not his fault; it was never his responsibility to save Daniel. Buck says he doesn’t blame their mom for slapping him after what he said, and Maddie, steely, says, “Well, I do. For that, and also for how they talked to you—no, it’s not okay. What if Jee grows up and realizes she likes both boys and girls someday? I don't want Mom talking to her like that. Do you?"

Buck recoils a little, and Maddie nods. “Would you be okay if Mom ever hit Jee Yun?” she asks. “Even if she said something terrible? Even if she deserved it?”

“She could never deserve it,” Buck says, knowing what Maddie’s doing but unable to keep quiet, not when his sister looks so upset, not with the ghost of Doug so heavy in the air. He hates to think of how many times Doug must have told Maddie that she was to blame for everything he did to her. “But Maddie, I don’t think Mom or Dad would ever—”

“Maybe not,” Maddie says, “but that doesn’t make them safe. They screw up, and they always feel bad about it, but they never really apologize. They never put in the work. They just ... make excuses and expect that we’ll forgive them, but I think I’m done with that now. I’m done with relationships where it’s only my responsibility to try harder, to smooth things over, to say the right thing, to always forgive. Maybe someday, if Mom and Dad actually work on themselves, but for right now ..." Maddie shakes her head. "Enough is enough.”

Buck gets that, he does. But he admits he isn’t sure he’s ready to cut off his parents yet, isn’t sure he wants too. He still wants to keep trying, and Maddie says that’s okay. What matters is, they still have each other. And she won’t try to change his mind if he doesn’t try to change hers.

Buck offers her a pinky swear. Maddie smiles and hooks her finger around his.

*

Meanwhile, downstairs, a phone rings.

“Christopher?” Eddie says, and takes a few steps, turning away from everyone. 

It is Christopher. He calls to wish his dad a happy Father’s Day, but also to say he loves him, and while he’s not quite ready to come home yet, he still wants to come home, and maybe soon.

“I miss you,” Christopher tells him. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. But you have to stop lying to me.”

“I can do that,” Eddie promises.

“And go back to therapy.”

Eddie laughs. “Already on top of that one, bud. Maybe ... we could go together, sometime, when you come home?”

“Yeah,” Christopher says. “I’d like that. I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Chris,” Eddie says. He hangs up, takes a breath before turning around, and announces, “Christopher called!" as if everyone—including Maddie and Buck, leaning over the balcony—weren’t badly pretending not to eavesdrop.

Everyone cheers and rushes Eddie. 

“What did I tell you?” Bobby asks him. “What did I tell you?” Hen asks, too, and Eddie says, “Yeah, yeah,” to both of them, with wet eyes and a shaky, hopeful smile.

“This calls for champagne!” Chimney announces. “But since we’re all on duty ... cheap coffee and leftover Ding Dong, Gerrard is Gone cake it is!”

—All in all, it’s the best Father’s Day the 118 has had in a long, long time. 

(And that's it! Apologies, fellow Tommy fans, that he didn’t make it into Part 2—but you know. If Tommy’s at the fire house, who’s flying the plane? Actually, Tommy’s too busy babysitting Jee Yun, and—to both Buck and Chimney’s horror—introducing her to all the worst Star Wars movies. She loves them.)

Tag List @lavenderleahy @v88sy

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 10

Summary: the group begins a full fledged search for Sophia in the woods, when they come up to an abandoned church. You end up overhearing another conversation between Lori and Shane, and finally fess up to Daryl that he'd been right all along. In a flashback, you remember a time you went out during the first few weeks of college with your effeminate roommate, when you see a familiar face in the crowd.

warnings: mentions of ED (not reader), alcohol consumption

The pale blue horizon had streaks of yellow sunlight peeking through the clouds as you opened your eyes the next morning. Your back was killing you–you had stayed in one of the leftover cars on the highway to get a couple hours of shut eye as best you could. You got better shut-eye a few days ago at the CDC, and since then any noise outside the windows jostled you awake at night. You begin to sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes with your fists, when you hear hushed voices outside the vehicle.

“I know how she is— she thinks she can handle things on her own, but I’ve seen her fall apart more times than I can count,” it’s Shane’s voice outside your window, and you keep your head low to keep listening.

“How do you even know that girl, Shane? What happened? She looks familiar, but I can’t place her. Did we speak to her on a patrol together or somethin’?” Rick’s voice comes out in a hushed, curious whisper. You knew he couldn’t have completely forgotten who you were yesterday. At some point his memory had to come back to him, as foggy as it may be after the time that has gone by. You peek your eyes out the window just enough to get a glimpse of Shane’s face, it's contorted in a way you can tell he’s working out what to say in his head. His brows are furrowed, and he runs his hand through his hair while resting the other on his hip. 

“Yeah, I knew her before this all went down. We crossed paths a few times–she’s from around the area. Nothin’ serious. She was stuck in a bad place back then, couldn’t really take care of herself so I kept her out of trouble when I could. Didn’t think it was necessary to explain,” he says. You duck your head back under the window, a tightness rising up your throat. There's a long pause before either of them say anything again.

“That’s it? Just crossed paths? You looked at her like there was a lot more to it than that, Shane. You called her a pet name , dammit. What aren’t you tellin’ me?” Rick sounds more and more aggressive as he goes on. Amazement at how perceptive Rick was flashes through your mix of emotions, although you admit the first time you and Shane saw each other again wasn’t all that reserved when he brought you into a hug that day. God, it felt so long ago already. There’s another long pause, you can imagine Shane is searching his brain for a reason good enough for his facade. 

“She didn’t want me talkin’ about it. You know how people can get about their past. I wasn’t gon’ go around tellin’ stories to anyone who would listen, Rick. It doesn't even matter–what matters is she’s here now and we’ve gotta figure out how to find Sophia. We don’t have time to dig into the past when the dead are walkin’ around.” 

You can hear Rick’s quiet agreement, and their footsteps recede. 

That motherfucker.

After all that time, all that pain, he acts like you were just another face he barely knew. That you were some kid who couldn’t look after herself. How the hell does he explain the tension between him and Daryl then? Your breathing is shallow as the thoughts race through your mind. Protecting his own damn image, taking control of the situation–it was all typical you realize. Looking back at everything, he always kept you hidden away in the dark. Literally in the middle of the night, every single time. Never taking you to busy public places, never introducing you to his friends. The intensity of the emotions hits you like a spark of flame–your fists ball up as you try to keep yourself together. You need to get moving, the search party is about to start looking for the little girl, and you can’t go out there like this. How are you supposed to let him get away with acting like you were nothing to him? I should've known better, you think to yourself. Should’ve listened to Daryl when he said Shane was bad news. But you’re here now, and Shane is right about one thing–it’s too much to bring up when you have to find Sophia. For now, you shove –hard– at the thought, putting it in a neat little box in your brain with a lock on it. 

Your stomach growls loudly, shaking you from your thoughts. Your mind switches back to survival mode, the need for food and water apparent. You shift yourself up into the sitting position, and exit the car. 

As you approach, everyone is gathered around a sedan, Rick laying out a roll of an arsenal of weapons. 

“Everyone takes a weapon,” he announces. You step up next to Daryl, giving him a small smile. His hand comes up to you, offering a piece of beef jerky. You take it with eagerness, ripping a piece off with your teeth. The salty, dry taste feels so good on your tongue. You say a small thanks to him, and face the group.

“These aren’t the kind of weapons we need,” Andrea retorts, looking at the hammers and tools on the hood of a car, “What about the guns?”

“We’ve been over that,” Shane interjects, “Rick and I will be carrying. Daryl too,” his eyes flicker over to you, “we can’t have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles,”

“It’s not the trees I’m worried about,” she says to him.

“Say someone fires at the wrong moment–herd happens to be passin’ by,” his eyes are back on her, “See–then it’s game over for all of us. So you need to get over it,” he says in an authoritarian tone.

“I’ve been trained to use a gun, why can’t I have one?” you pipe in, looking down at the ground.

“Yeah, shootin’ squirrels in the backwoods of bumblefuck Georgia,” Shane snarks at you.

“Isn’t that where we are now?” you retort, looking up at him with your eyes narrowed.

“Not happening,” he says simply, ending the conversation.

Daryl stares quietly, his jaw flexing as he watches the both of you argue. Rick is looking at Daryl too now, waving him on to tell the plan. Without any other words from you or Shane, he begins to talk about going up the creek to find Sophia. You walk up to the car and grab a hammer, it’s heavy but feels good in your hand. You practice swinging it to get the hang of the weight.

“Stay quiet, stay sharp,” Rick orders as everyone walks away, putting together packs of food and water. You take a generous swig of a bottle before putting it into a small bag over your shoulder. 

You can overhear a heated discussion going on with Andrea and Dale, but feel it’s probably best to keep your distance. You doubt they want another person’s two cents in the conversation. As she joins everyone again, you begin walking, taking up behind Daryl who has his crossbow over his shoulder. Rick is behind you at a safe distance. You all quietly follow in a single line after each other for a while, and after an hour or so of walking at a steady pace, Daryl lifts his hand behind him, getting everyone down on the ground. Crouching, you let Rick go ahead of you to walk with him and see a lone tent up ahead. Shane brushes up against you as he tries to pass as well. The three of them come up to the tent with hesitation, and you hold your breath as Daryl approaches with his knife at the ready. Carol slowly walks up, calling for Sophia. 

With no response, Daryl makes his way into the tent. You grab the wrist of whoever is next to you–you can’t even tell who it is and you don’t care. You have an iron grip on them, pleading for there not to be anything dangerous in the tent. Let it just be Sophia, please. But then Daryl comes out of the tent, standing up straight.

“Not her,” he says simply, a small gun in his hand. You drop your hand, and look over to see Glenn looking at you with wide eyes. 

You offer a small smile, “sorry,” 

He doesn’t respond, and looks toward the other guys by the tent. Turns out the person in the tent “opted out” as Jenner once put it. But suddenly you hear church bells, and everyone stands at attention, trying to search for the source of the sound. Everyone starts to run toward the noise, and out of the clearing in the woods you see a cemetery with a small church attached. Rick sprints to the door, and when everyone is behind him, he begins slowly opening it, ready for the worse. You stay back behind the men, hatchet ready in your hand. There’s a few walkers that turn and hiss when they see the group. Immediately you’re inside, ready to strike. You manage to jump in front of one that Shane is aiming for, slamming your hatchet down in its head. You stand as the walker falls down, looking up at Shane with a challenge blazing in your eyes. 

“Can’t handle myself, huh?” you ask quietly. His eyes narrow on you as well, but when the room is quiet with the lack of walkers snarling, you look back over to Daryl asking the statue of Jesus for requests, which brings a small smile of humor to your face. Why is it in the worst situations, he can make you laugh? You barely can tell if he means to. He screams for Sophia then, and you are reminded to start looking around the place. The short row of pews is empty, there’s no girl here. If she was there’s no way she could have handled those walkers anyway. Shane is approaching Rick, demanding that it’s the wrong church. No steeple, no bells, he tells him. But then the ringing chimes loudly above you and everyone is running outside. Glenn runs to the side of the building to the speaker the noise is blaring from, reaching down to the switch at the bottom.

“Timer, it’s on a timer,” Daryl says, defeatedly. Everyone seems to exhale, but more in despair than relief. Although the bells stopped and the noise is no longer going to draw anything in, you still feel the disappointment fill the air around you. 

Daryl falls to the side of the building, sitting and leaning his head back against the siding, letting his eyes softly shut. Letting out another sigh, you fall beside him, your head resting on the heels of your hands. You sit there for a long moment in silence, before you look at him, contemplating if you want to say what’s on your mind. He looks so defeated, so sad. You can tell the loss of the little girl is getting to him. He’s a tracker, he can find almost anything out in the woods. You wonder if he’s feeling inadequate in moments like this.

He seems to sense that there’s something on the tip of your tongue, “what is it?” he says softly, opening one eye to look at you. When you are still hesitant, he opens both his eyes and turns his head to look at you, “what?” he whispers again.

“You were right,” you admit, looking at him in his blue eyes that match the color of the sky today.

“Usually am,” he smirks, “‘bout what this time?”

Before you can open your mouth to speak, you both turn your heads in the direction you hear Shane’s voice coming from. He’s to your left, in front of the church building stairs. You can see Lori standing a few feet from him. Their voices are coming out aggravated, almost urgent.

“Are you really leaving?” you hear Lori asking.

“Don’t you think it’s best for all of us?” Shane’s voice questions. Daryl looks over at you, eyes searching your face for any kind of answers. You shake your head lightly, as if to say you have no clue what’s going on, and look toward the noise again. You can only see the back of Lori as she speaks to him. You can still only really pick up pieces of the conversation. Shane is completely out of view but you can pick up his voice here and there. Lori seems to want him to leave, but she’s not happy with him.

“Just tryna be the good guy here, Lori,” Shane says so quietly you can barely hear it, and you roll your eyes at that, “none of this was intended ,” he finishes. 

Lori leaves the corner of the building, walking what you assume is Shane in front of the church. Their voices are still in hushed whispers, talking over each other. You hear Rick and Carl’s name come up, but never yours.

“ I’m the one that loses you,” Shane says to her. You start to see Lori coming back into view, but she heads up to the steps of the church instead of around the building. Everything is quiet again.

Daryl looks back at you, his expression hard. 

“About that,” you exhale, closing your eyes and leaning your head back. 

———————————————————————————

“Y’all gonna follow the creek bed back,” Shane announces, “Daryl, you’re in charge,” 

“You’re splittin’ us up?” Daryl asks, his eyes narrowing, “you sure about that?” 

The group has formed back together after a couple of bites of what you all packed in your bags today before you left the highway–you and Daryl shared the rest of the jerky he had and a can of beans between the two of you. The sun was on its way down for the second half of the day. You knew you only had so many hours of daylight left to find Sophia. 

You stand next to the others as Shane and Rick explain they’re going to stay back and keep watch for her to appear–maybe she heard the bells and came running but hasn’t made it yet. Daryl’s voice is worried when he asks Shane about his plan. 

“Yeah, we’ll catch up to you,” Shane says easily.

As you start turning to walk away with the others, he suddenly calls out, “Y/N, you comin’?” 

It takes you a moment to register that Shane is calling your name. You nearly gawk at him, what the hell?

“Sorry?” you say to him, not sure you heard him right. Your tone is laced with disbelief.

Daryl’s jaw tightens as he looks over at you, chewing the inside of his lip. You look between him and Shane, uncertain about the change in attitude towards yourself. You don’t make a move to leave Daryl’s side. 

“Don’t want you wanderin’ off tryna look for Sophia yourself again, now do we? Want you in my sight,” he says to you. 

First of all, you’re amazed he’s trying to demand things of you in front of the group–it’ll put a clear target on you that Shane thinks you’re not capable of handling yourself, although he did make it clear to Rick this morning that was really what he thought of you. And second–since when does he want you around him? Hadn’t he made it clear that you needed to steer clear of anything having to do with him?

“Come on now,” he calls you over, his fingers twitching to beckon you forward. You look up at Daryl, who, instead of focusing on you now, is glaring at Shane. Lori is watching you too, confusion in her eyes. You could swear it looks as if Daryl is about to stop you from moving forward as he begins to lean forward. But he seems to think better of himself from the look on Shane’s face, and stops himself from making any moves. You slowly make your way over to him and Rick. Standing between them with your hatchet in your hand, Carl calls out he wants to come too. Surprisingly, his mom looks to you and the men you stand between, then lets him come along with you. You smile gently at Carl while he makes his way over. He really is a cute kid. 

The group starts to break apart, the women and Glenn heading away. Daryl stands still after handing Lori the extra gun he found, staring down Shane. Both of them are stock still as Rick excuses himself into the church. You reach out to grab Shane’s arm, and you're struck by the ease in which you feel comfortable enough to do it, even after the past few days’ events. You hate that you didn’t stop yourself, realizing it was a mistake. Daryl’s trance breaks as he sees your hand wrap around Shane’s bicep. As you’re pulling his arm away, Shane looks down at your hand, up at you, then to Daryl with a shit eating smirk, and starts walking with you. 

“Wipe the smirk off your face, Shane,” you mumble, releasing his arm once he starts moving.

“You and I both know you still need me, whether you want to admit it or not,” he says with a cocky look in his eye, passing you to walk towards the woods. You’re half tempted to flip him off behind his back. You glance behind you to reassure Daryl, but his back is already turned, walking to catch up with the rest of the group.

x Flashback x

When your roommate Dana said she was taking you to a “dive bar” as you were getting ready to leave on that Friday night, you hadn’t really imagined she meant an actual dive bar. You had met her your first day, naturally, as you were unpacking your only two bags in the dorm room. She immediately took to you like a magnet, making you try on all her clothes and doing your makeup how she thought you’d look best. You were her “little project” as she liked to call you. 

The thing was, Dana was from Fulton County for god’s sake, so you thought she’d keel over when she saw the state of the dive bar you knew well from home. You were surprised when she was the one who mentioned going to Henderson’s Bar. It was well known for never once being cleaned, the music old, but the drinks were cheap. You knew of the place, but never wanted to go in, afraid of creeps that smelled like beer and body odor trying to climb all over you. But when you walked in tonight next to Dana arm and arm with you, you were surprised to see it packed with college students. There was a small DJ stand in the corner playing club music, and a large crowd taking up the majority of the space dancing and grinding together. Your fake ID got you easily inside– Henderson’s wasn’t the type to have a scanner like some of the nicer clubs in downtown Atlanta. You recognize some kids from school before college, but try your best to advert your eyes if any of their gazes linger on your for more than a second. 

Dana led you straight to the bar where she ordered both of you vodka sodas. Dana had taught you all about the calories in things, and what drinks were best to keep you buzzed but thin. You had never really thought about that kinda stuff before, to be honest. You were always living on the edge of starving so the idea of watching your calories hadn’t occurred to you. But Dana was obsessed. She told you every number of calories in every serving of cafeteria food at school, read Weight Watchers and Cosmopolitan Magazines between classes, showing you new ideas for a diet she wanted to try the next day. You let her talk on and on about it, but anytime she asked you to try a new fad with her you usually turned her down, saying you were trying another diet, but you never told her which one. What you really wanted to say was she should relax and just…let herself enjoy food while it was so easily accessible. You definitely did, especially the first time you saw the cafeteria at GSU. The financial support you got from the state allowed you to get free food on campus, and you’d never been so excited to try so many things. The very first meal you had at the school had made you sick, you had eaten so much. You had to remember that this would be available all the time now, and you didn’t need to act like it was going to be taken away anytime soon. At least not ‘til summer, when you’d have to figure out what in the world you were going to do.

In the midst of your run on thoughts, Dana had pulled you into the dance floor, swaying her hips and holding your hand in one of her’s, the other holding the drink up to her mouth. She always looked so pretty, so put together. You wondered what you looked like standing next to her. She dressed you in a tight black tank top and a short denim skirt tonight. You didn’t let her put you in any of her shoes–you were adamant about keeping your comfortable footwear. And in your defense, the boots kind of looked good with the skirt, even if they were pretty beat up. Dana had smeared some eyeliner and mascara on you as well, and your eyes felt twice their usual weight. Throughout the night you weren’t sure if they felt heavy because of the makeup or the drinks in your system. The song suddenly changed as you danced with her, and it made you look up with a smile. You actually knew this one from the radio. 

As you looked up, however, you saw a familiar face across the room. Even through the crowd of dancing party goers–hell, no matter the size of the room or amount of people, you’d always be able to find that face.

Daryl. 

He already had his eyes on you, maybe that’s what made your eyes find him so easily. You could feel him watching. He was bringing his bottle of beer up to his lips when you noticed the blue and purple marks around his right eye. You groaned inwardly, wondering how he got that badly bruised. As he lowered the bottle from his mouth, you saw the healing split in his lip.

“Oh my god, that guy is cute,” Dana said next to you, having to raise her voice in your ear. She had followed your line of sight–you were probably staring–and your stomach sank when you saw her eyeing Daryl, “you know, like farmer boy hot, like he’s been in a fight. Even his black eye is hot.”

“He ain’t a farmer,” you mumbled, but she couldn’t hear you over the bass of the music. She was already making her way over to him, swerving through the people with ease. People always made way for her, maybe because of how pretty she was or just her presence alone. You were starting to wish people saw you the same way. Not until she’s made her way to stand in front of him did Daryl take his eyes off of you. He looked at her with a small smirk, letting her capture his attention. It was always easy for her to keep a guy’s attention, you’d noticed. She batted her eyelashes how girls are supposed to, put her hand on their arm and leaned into them. If only you knew how to do that stuff. Not that you really needed to. You still talked to Shane on the phone most nights, usually he asked how school was and after getting a few short answers about his day it would lead to phone sex, which you enjoyed but it still made you feel lonely when you hung up the phone. Once in a while he picked you up for a late night picnic in his truck or just to take you to a quiet place to have his way with you. You sighed and made your way over to the bar now, away from the sweaty dancers. Leaning against the sticky wooden surface, you stared at the stains on it while you waited for Dana to return. 

“Hey miss Piggy,” you heard a familiar voice in your ear. You turned to see Merle Dixon behind you, leaning in with that shit eating grin he always wore. His eyes seemed heavier than the last time you saw him, with bags under them from lack of sleep. He was also skinnier, which all things combined you had come to know meant he was on a bender–and not from alcohol.

“Miss Piggy is low, Merle,” you scoffed, facing him fully, leaning your elbows back on the bar, “even for you,”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he lifted his mouth into a smirk, “you know you’ve always been a hottie in my eyes, Y/N. I just mean you’ve been rollin around with the pigs lately, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, “Nice, real nice.” you brought your drink up to your mouth, the bubbles hitting your tongue, burning in the best way. Shane’s face came into your mind’s eye, hating when they called him that. 

“Hey now, why didn’t you and I ever get together, Y/N?” he came in closer to you, “before you met Officer Friendly, how come we never bump’ uglies?”

You let out a laugh, and brought your hand up to his face, patting it gently, “cause you say things like ‘bump uglies’, Merle,” 

He still was smiling, turning to bite your hand. You gave his cheek one last hard pat, making him wince, “c’mon now, we’d have a lot of fuuun,” he teased.

You brought your hand away, rolling your eyes, “not gonna happen,” 

He’ laughed lightly, about to bring his bottle of Corona to his lips when he looks over your head, “well now lookie here, looks like my little brother does know how to score some puss,”

You nearly gagged at his choice of words, but still turned to see what he was on about. Your heart plummeted into your stomach at the sight of Dana and Daryl locked in a heavy makeout against the opposite wall. Daryl’s hand was on the back of her head, pulling her into him. She had her arms up around his neck, pushing herself against him in equal measure. You quickly looked away when you realized you’d been staring too long, and Merle was taking a drink from his beer, his eyes watching you. 

“What?” you snapped at him.

“Nothin,” he chuckled, shaking his head a little, “just looks like you’ll be goin’ home alone tonight,”

[j-esbian]

i lost the post but i saw someone talking about how some of y’all act like being weird is a choice and like. YEAHHHHHHH.

that’s fine, it might be for you. but i just live like this and don’t know any other way. like yeah i’ve worked customer service, i can do innocuous small talk, but anything beyond that, i don’t understand what i’m missing. and it’s frustrating to see the tonal disconnect especially from people who are like “uwu embrace weirdness!!” where they’re like. dressing quirky and talking about bugs and listening to obscure music and eschewing small talk to ask Deep Questions on the first date and unlearning their tendency to not infodump. and generally have an idea of what Weirdness is supposed to look like. idk man some of us wake up and get out of bed and can’t figure out why the rest of their coworkers chitchat with each other but when they join the conversation it dies.

weirdness is value neutral. let’s stop trying to turn it into a badge because quite frankly, it’s not a choice for everyone. it’s fucking exhausting to never be on the same wavelength as other people and they’re going to react the way they do and label you the way they will without any conscious actions on your end. it’s difficult to talk about this without feeling like you’ll be dismissed as immature, a teenager whining “no one understands me” but the thing is. sometimes you don’t grow out of feeling alone and different, and there’s no good way to talk about it without feeling like people will think you’re just fishing for pity.

[karokawwo]

i feel like people who compare jade and dottore as proof that people hate jade because she's a woman fail to realize that dottore doesn't feel as "real" as jade. he's literally a mad scientist with clones of himself running around in his place so he doesn't feel as close to reality as a predatory higher-up from a money hungry company would. dottore's victims are a living puppet piloting a mecha and a girl with a magical disease, jade's juniors are children from the planets which her company invaded

[caffeinatedopossum]

I'm aromantic not in a "I hate romance" way but in a "all my love is highly individualized dependent on the person my love is towards- no two loves will ever be exactly the same because you are different people and I love you in the way that you are" way

Like idk how to explain it but I don't get typical crushes, I don't have a desire to kiss or make out with people, I just have a gentle, ever-present love for anyone who will accept it (and who aligns with my morals). My version of a crush is just really liking someone and wanting to do most things with them but if I find out they have a crush on someone else, I will stop having a crush on them. Like it just turns off. Same if the person turns out to not be as nice as I thought or something

I've had stereotypical romantic moments with my friends, I have friends who are like kids to me, friends who are like siblings to me, and a sister who was my best friend. It's kind of like this thing where I'm not sure romantic attraction is even real? Like it has to be, right, because other people feel it? But I can't really relate to their feelings of falling in love, I feel like I just *am* in love, all the time, with many people and things at once

[guinevereslancelot]

why do i feel weirdly guilty for taking a day off of work to have necessary surgery 🤡

[lisbonsteresa]

why does she look at him like that though

[yohankang]

besties i gotta be real one of you has to visit me or i'll go insane

[dutybcrne]

From a very young age, Kaeya held such a fondness for handholding. Whether it was his father clinging tightly to him to make sure he didn’t get lost, Adelinde’s gentle, grounding hand closed over his to comfort him whenever his nerves got the better of him, Crepus’s rough-palmed, firm yet comforting grip as he brought him back home, or, as it was most often of all, Diluc’s warm, yet at times uncomfortably tight hold as he dragged him anywhere, everywhere, determined to always keep Kaeya close and eagerly show him all there was to see, Kaeya treasured the gesture greatly.

Of course, being as shy as he was, initiating it himself was always the harder part. So much so, he would tend to hold pinkies, rather than outright take a person’s hand in his own. Eventually, it would become his most common way to go about the gesture of affection.

[icemankazansky]

Things I see on tumblr:

Things that will happen between Ice and Maverick meeting at TOPGUN and the availability to consumers of the earliest cell phones capable of texting:

the end of the Cold War

the United States elects two Presidents

the Exxon Valdez oil spill

the so-called "War on Drugs" begins

the fall of the Berlin Wall and the reunification of Germany

the Gulf War

the collapse of the Soviet Union

Starbucks

Al-Qaeda

the Tiananmen Square protests and subsequent massacre

Nelson Mandela is freed

the Hubble Telescope is launched

the Americans with Disabilities Act becomes law

the World Wide Web is designed, created, launched, and made available to the public

[maddy-ferguson]

thinking about that person who was saying that lucaya made them blind to how bad gmw was and that they were scared to look back on their rina days in a few years and think the same thing about hsmtmts

[1prodigy1]

All desire for gentleness goes out the window I guarantee it

[medicinemane]

"DIY tiny home you can build in weeks", ok... now lets see the cost

...seven and a half minutes later, the answer is $75k... so when you include land and all the rest of it, so basically nothing right?

This is my problem with tiny homes stuff, it's for rich people