#so tired of people acting like an entire group of people are all exactly the same because of a stereotype founded on classism

[yiffradio]

"im a leftist, and i think someone being born a certain way doesnt determine their entire life, which is why i assume everyone with a southern accent is stupid and call them trash if they cant afford a house"

[ghostboneswrites2]

The Girl in the Shack || One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Summary: Daryl & Aaron are out recruiting when they find you holed up in an old shack.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, nongraphic allusions to SA & general abuse, killing, TWD typical violence, description of malnourishment

        The sunlight filtered through the small cracks in the tiny shack, dust particles floating peacefully in the small beams of light. You had been there for days, too weak to move on. You didn't even feel the pain anymore, not from the bruises or the hunger. Not from how dry your throat was or how cracked and bloody your lips were. All you felt was tired as you stared up at the ceiling, crumpled up on the floor like you were already dead. You would be, soon, probably.

        That day was particularly nice. Daryl enjoyed the light breeze as it blended with the warm air. Perfect weather. He and Aaron were trekking silently through the woods. Aaron said he had a lead on a small group of men before Rick's group came along and he decided to pursue them instead. Now that Rick's people were settling in among the Alexandrians, Aaron wanted to give that lead one last chance before they moved on to scouting a different area.

        "Last I saw them, they camped out right over here, outside this little shack." Aaron told Daryl, as the two men came to a halt when they emerged from the trees into the small clearing around the dilapidated wooden structure. Daryl didn't speak, instead silently making a circle around the shack, examining the small signs of life left behind by this supposed group of men. There was definitely a fire there, and people, as he could see the tracks and some singed fallen foliage, but he wasn't sure the tracks were fresh enough to follow. They were hard to identify as it was. After all, this would have been at least two weeks ago, now.

        Daryl circled back to Aaron and gave him a nod, to signify that the coast was clear, before they decided to check inside. They moved for the door with silent steps, slowly pushing it open. You, in an act of pure, fear fueled adrenaline, shuffled to your feet and pushed your back against the wall opposite to the door, squinting at the raw daylight that cascaded over you. The two men stood stunned, taking in the tragic sight of you.

        You were clearly malnourished, as your bones were defined anywhere your skin was showing. Your lips were as crackled and bloody as they felt. Most of all, you had bruises over your entire frame, head to toe. Not just ordinary bruising, either. These were the kind that looked painted on. There were so many shades of green, yellow, purple, blue, and almost black. You pressed harder against the wooden panels behind you the longer they stared.

        "A--Are you okay?" Aaron was the first to speak. You didn't answer, you just studied him intently, watching his hands for any sudden movements before your eyes flicked over to Daryl, and back to Aaron when he spoke again. "Are you thirsty? I have water."

        You swallowed dryly at the mention of water. You didn't know how long it had been since anything liquid made it past your lips but it had been long enough to kill you by this point. Aaron could read the signs of dehydration all over you as he slowly reached in his pack and pulled out a full bottle of water. He held it out to you. "Here you go." He offered. "Untouched. Still sealed."

        After you took some time to consider, you ultimately decided you couldn't resist even if you wanted to. In the blink of an eye you snatched the bottle, causing Aaron to flinch at the quick movement. The two of them couldn't take their eyes off you. The way the whites of your eyes contrasted the dark bruising around them was uncanny. Your hair was so matted up that you leaves and dust clumped together within the knots. You looked absolutely feral, and your actions didn't exactly give off a different impression. You cowered in fear, but your eyes were full of rage, like a feral cat.  Beyond that, your clothes were torn and hung from your body loosely, like tender meat sliding off the bone. You had definitely been through something unimaginable.

        "Would you like some food?" Aaron offered softly, after they watched you down three quarters of the water in just few gulps. You looked at him with that same look of desperation and apprehension. He nodded, and passed you over a jar of applesauce that he liked to carry around, just to show people that they had an apple orchard nearby. Part of his selling point, he guessed.

        You flipped the top of the jar and poured it in  your mouth quickly, gulping loud as you swallowed the sweet sauce. When it was gone, and the men were still there, you realized you had no idea why they were helping you, or what they wanted. Aaron picked up on the sudden curiosity and offered you a smile. A warm, friendly, welcoming smile that you hadn't seen in a long time. The only people that smiled out there were the ones who relished in pain and suffering of others.  This one was different.

        "My name is Aaron, and this is Daryl." He introduced himself and his partner. Your eyes flicked between the two. Quite the contrast, as Aaron was clean cut and maybe even  a little casual, while Daryl was more grungy and dark, at least in the wardrobe department. The way Aaron looked at you was open and maybe even a little nervous, while Daryl's gaze was more narrow and calculated, as if he'd catch even the slightest sign of malicious intent.

        You decided neither of them could have been helping you out of the kindness of their hearts. Kindness always came with strings attached, at least in this world. You clenched your jaw, grinding your teeth together tightly,  and sucked in a deep breath. You clenched your fists as you mustered the courage to speak.

        "Just get it over with." You said. Your voice was laced with defeat and irritation. You looked away from the two men, staring blankly at the aging wooden walls.

        "I'm sorry?" Aaron tilted his head, knitting his eyebrows together.

        "Easy way or the hard way, right? If I surrender now can you just make it quick?" You asked with a quiver in your voice. 

        "Woah, we're not here to hurt you." Aaron said, eyes growing wide at the realization of what you were implying. 

        You allowed your eyes to peek back  over at them. They eyed you sympathetically. Even Daryl's untrusting glare softened when he realized what had happened to you, why you looked so rough.

        "Why don't you step out here?" Aaron suggested. "I--We come from a community. A big one, with walls, and food, and lots of nice people. We can help you. That's our job."

        "Community?" You asked. The word seemed to take your breath away. "I--I--'

        "It's okay." Aaron assured, stepping back a little and offering you his hand. "We promise. No tricks. Just good people trying to help. Come on out."

        When you took his hand and stepped out of the tiny shack, the sun illuminated you in your entirety. Daryl took notice of where your shirt had been ripped, exposing a large portion of your ribs. He noticed a boot print shaped bruise and his fists clenched a little.

        "That bruise." He nodded to it. "You know who did it?"

        "Not their names." You shook your head. "Just some guys."

...

        A week had gone by. As promised, Aaron and Daryl led you back to their community safely. Alexandria. Aaron's pictures did it no justice. It was an absolute paradise. A warm bed, hot showers, food, water, everything you could ask for at your own disposal. 

        A nice blonde lady named Jessie had come by on your first day and detangled your hair. She even trimmed it up to get rid of the split ends. She told you it would help keep it from matting up again. Later that day she brought you a basket of supplies, like food and hygienic products. Soap, a brush, even toothpaste and a toothbrush. You were still convinced it was all a dream, even a week later.

        Deanna, the leader, had checked in on you daily and reminded you that whenever you were ready, to come see her and she would give you a job chosen specially for you. She also still needed to finish your interview, as you weren't really in the place for that upon arrival.

        You were getting ready for a dinner at Aarons.  He stopped by to check in and offer you a meal. You had a little trouble eating a lot at once with how much your stomach shrank with starvation, but you couldn't turn down a real, homecooked meal. Not when a week ago you would have probably killed for a slice of bread.

        You smiled as you put on soft, clean clothes that actually smelled good and didn't feel stiff and crusty with blood and sweat. You couldn't believe you were in such a dilemma, but you had a hard time choosing a shirt. What was proper dinner attire? You just settled on a long sleeved gray V-neck that clung to your body. It reminded you of something you would have worn to high school or something. 

        When you checked the time, you realized you only had a few minutes until seven, when Aaron told you they'd be ready. You hadn't met Eric, but you heard about him from Aaron and how he was a nice cook. You took a breath to inflate yourself with some semblance of confidence before you headed two streets over and knocked on the door. It didn't take long for them to open the it, Aaron's smiling face greeting you nicely.

        "(Y/N). Glad you could make it." He grinned, stepping aside to allow you space to enter. You stepped in and looked around the house. It was nice, a little bigger than the one they gave you, but that was okay. You didn't need much space, and more space meant more places for threats to hide. "Dining room's that way. Make yourself comfortable. Eric's just finishing up the food. I'll go get the wine."

        "Wine?" You gawked, earning a small chuckle from your host. 

        "A particularly sweet one, I might add."

        Before long you were sipping wine and enjoying a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Aaron and Eric made small talk with you, and surprisingly you felt pretty comfortable chatting back. There was a small knock at the door that interrupted the conversation.

        "Oh. Must be Daryl. Hope you don't mind, (Y/N), we usually have Daryl over for dinner on Tuesdays." Aaron said as he stood from the table. You shrugged and shoveled another spoonful of mashed potatoes into your mouth as he walked away, chuckling at your content attitude. 

        "When's the last time you had a real meal?" Eric asked. You set your spoon down and wiped your mouth, looking up to the ceiling as you tried to recall.

        "I'm honestly not sure." You admitted. "Probably the night before the outbreak hit my hometown. I had made alfredo and chicken parm for the first time. Burned the chicken to hell but the noodles were good."

        "Wow." He said, sadly. "I'm sorry you've had it so hard all this time."

        "Yeah." You nodded.

        Aaron entered the room with Daryl, who looked much cleaner than the day you met him, and the two of them took a seat. Daryl sat beside you, opposite to Aaron and Eric.

        "I'll get your plate." Eric announced, heading into the kitchen.

        Daryl snuck a few glances in your direction. You were still bruised up but they had faded into a lighter range of yellow and purple, as opposed to how dark they were last time he saw you. Your hair looked shiny and soft, and most of all you looked human. He thought about how long he and his people had been on the road, how close they were to losing their humanity. They still looked better than you when they first got here. He thought you were a goner when he met you, that maybe the world had taken away everything that made you a person. He was glad to see that he was wrong, and shocked at how friendly you seemed to be. 

        All things considered, you cleaned up well and you were actually pretty now that he could see you without all the grime and suffering. 

        "Hey." You said timidly, offering a shy, thin lipped smile.

        "Hey." He grunted. "You been alright?"

        "Um.. Probably better than I've been in years." You chuckled nervously. He nodded, understanding.

        "It's a lot to get used to." He said.

        "I think I stayed in the shower of over an hour that first night." You admitted. 

        "Hope you like chicken." Eric chimed as he stepped into the dining room and set Daryl's plate in front of him, along with a glass of wine. The man began eating immediately, bite after bite, finishing before anyone else, and sucking his fingers clean. You could tell he was used to being out there in the world, and that he was good at surviving. You wished you were the same.

        "So, (Y/N), Daryl and I.." Aaron trailed off, taking a breath as he tried to find a gentle way to ask. "Well, the men that did that to you. We were hoping you could give us a description, maybe."

        "Why?" You asked, suddenly tense. Your throat felt tight as your mind raced at the mention of them. "Do you think they're here?"

        "No! No. Nothing like that." Aaron assured. "We just--"

        "I'm gon' find them bastards and beat 'em for all they're worth." Daryl spoke up. You looked at him with wide eyes, still trying to calm your racing heart.

        "What he means is that we wanted to make sure they never  cross paths with any of our people here." Aaron added.

        "Well, they had, um.. There were three of them, and they all had beards, and they, um--"

        "What were their races? What were they wearing?" Eric asked, trying to help guide you as you recalled their appearances.

        "Oh. I think they were all white. Not old but not young. Maybe in their forties? And they all had jeans and boots on and different shirts."

        "Perfect. Thank you. We're sorry we had to ask, but--"

        "It's okay."  You cut Aaron off. "If it helps then I get it."

...

        That dinner was two weeks ago. You were surprised when Daryl stopped by your house every few days to check on you. Sometimes he'd even stay for a while and watch a DVD with you or let you make him some food.

        When he came over one evening in the middle of one of your movies you were welcoming.  You were glad to make a friend. 

        "Hey!" You grinned. "I was just watching this corny rom-com. I'll restart it so we can suffer together." 

        He didn't say anything as he stepped in, and you giddily rushed over to the DVD player to restart the film.

        "Oh! Eric brought me some whiskey, too. I'll go get it." You rambled. "And, that lady Carol brought me some cookies, and I found some chips at the pantry. Jessie said they usually go to Deanna's family but she let me take them this time--"

        "We got 'em." He said. You paused, confused.

        "The chips?" You tilted your head.

        "Nah. Them assholes. We got 'em." He said. "Bunch o' sorry pricks. Just killed some guy for his car when we found 'em."

        You stared at him, wide eyed, as you took in what he was saying. You let out a breath as you plopped back on the couch.

        "Y'alright?" He asked, stepping closer to you.

        "Y--Yeah, I--I just wasn't--" You stuttered, unable to form a response. He gave you the time you needed to gather your thoughts. "I guess I just didn't think you'd actually find them. Figured they'd be long gone by now."

        "I told you I'd get 'em." He said, taking a seat beside you. You chest felt tight. You wanted to feel the relief he worked so hard to give you, but somehow the image of them just sent you into panic, alive or dead. "Hey." He said, gently pushing a finger under your jaw to tilt your head toward him. You looked at him as you blinked back tears. "They're gone. Ain't nobody gonna hurt you like that again. Now go get them snacks and that whiskey and lets watch this corny ass movie."

        And there it was, the beginning of it all. Daryl came over every two to three days after that and did whatever mundane activities you suggested. Sometimes he'd put his arm around you during a movie, or sometimes he'd give you a tight hug before he left after dinner.

        One night he came with some wine and a casserole Carol had made. 

        "Two nights in a row?" You asked him as you let him in.

        "Figured you were missin' me already." He teased. You rolled your eyes with a little smile. He went straight to your kitchen and got wine and casserole ready for the two of you before he met you back on the couch. You sipped the wine and dug in, as did he. He finished before you as he always did, and once you were finished, he pulled a DVD out of his jacket. 

        "Austin Powers?" You laughed, taking the movie and walking over to the DVD player to pop the disc in.

        "Never seen it." He shrugged.

        "I loved these movies when they came out." You told him, taking your seat back on the couch.

        "Guess I picked a good one." He commented as the movie started to play. When the movie finished, he looked over to find you sleep, curled up on the other end of the couch. He huffed a laugh and shook his head, standing up and scooping you in his arms, carrying you down the hall and to the single bedroom, before gently laying you down. Your eyes fluttered open as you watched him stand up over you. "Didn't mean to wake ya." He apologized, noticing a small glisten in you eyes as you looked up at him.

        "You carried me to bed?" You asked groggily.

        "You fell asleep." He said, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably.

        "It's okay." You smiled. "Wanna stay?"

        "Huh?"

        "With me. Wanna stay the night?" You clarified.

        "Like a slumber party?" He scoffed.

        "You're right. That was stupid. Goodnight Daryl." You said, scooting over to the side of the bed you usually slept on and rolling over, feeling a tad embarrassed.

        You heard him walk to the door and pause, before you heard quiet shuffling and then some silence. You were surprised when you felt a weight on the other side of the bed. The mattress rocked a little as he wiggled under the covers and found a comfortable position on his side, facing your back.

        "Wasn't stupid." He said quietly. You smiled to yourself as you scooted back. He took the hint and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him.

[topgun-imagines]

Clock Don’t Stop

Requested: no

Summary: After a big fight, you need some time away from Jake. A song that you are listening to reminds you of a very important lesson. Can you and Jake fix things? 

Word count: 1.7k 

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of fighting and arguments. 

Note: Loosely based off of the song ‘Clock Don’t Stop’ by Carrie Underwood. Part Two of ‘Try Losing One’.

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!reader 

The door slammed behind you as you ran for your car. You jumped in and started it faster than you ever had before, desperately needing to get away from the place in front of you. Slamming on the gas, you sped away from your house. Away from Jake. 

It was a stupid fight. Something that grew out of control soon after it started, neither one of you wanting to admit you were wrong. You had been out doing some wedding planning, what exactly you couldn’t remember at this point, when some blonde had wandered up to Jake. You had instantly become jealous. Why, you didn’t know. What you did know was that instead of talking it out with him like a mature adult, you chose to give your fiancé the cold shoulder. You were silent the rest of the way home. 

It had spiralled from there. One thing lead to another and suddenly you were screaming at Jake. The fact that he had acted as if he had no idea what you were talking about didn’t help any. If anything it made it worse, leading to you leaving him in your empty home. 

You needed to get out of there. Arguing back and forth with Jake was tiring, to say the least. Honestly, at that moment you didn’t care where you ended up as long as it was away from Jake. You loved him. Of course you did. It was just moments like this where it was damn near impossible to be in the same room as him. You two rarely fought and when you did it was never this bad. This was a special occasion. One that you hoped would never happen again. So long as the two of you patched things up. 

Slowing down, you parked your car. You had pulled into the Hard Deck parking lot. Hopping out, you headed into the rowdy bar silently. There were groups of people all around you, some with familiar faces and others with complete strangers. Bob, Rooster, and Phoenix were gathered around the pool table in the far corner but you paid them no mind as you walked up to Penny. Ordering a few beers, you tried to ignore the concerned look that the older woman was sending you. You paid for your drinks quickly and rushed out of the bar.

Once you were outside you began walking down the beach. The sun was just dipping below the horizon as you reached the water line. The beach was one of your favorite places to be. Something that you learned when you first moved to North Island was that there was a beautiful part of the beach behind the bar. Usually, it was just the aviators that occupied it and since you saw most of them inside, there was a good chance that you would be alone. 

Being in that part of the beach brought back a lot of memories. That was where your first date with Jake was. Somehow, he had convinced you to give him a shot. He had held your hand the entire walk there, laid out a blanket, and unpacked the picnic he had brought. That date led to three which led to seven which eventually led to Jake proposing. It was by far one of the best days of your life. 

You set the bottles in the sand and sat down on a log. Pulling out your phone, you pressed shuffle on the first playlist you came across. Nearly ten minutes later and you were at the beginning of the fourth song. It was a familiar song but hearing the lyrics now caused you to get lost in thought. “Red dress, spilled wine, caught in a stupid fight, He’s wrong, she’s right, no kiss goodnight.” That’s all that tonight was. A stupid fight with drastic consequences. 

Watching the sunset, you let the words fill your mind. “Ring-ring, telephone, Act like I’m not home, Can’t hear the tears cry on the other end of the line.” That made you wonder. Was Jake crying over this? Was he letting this fight affect him the same way you were? Here you were, sitting alone, crying over someone who might not even care. Tears gathered on your lashes. 

“And the minutes turn to hours, and they’re flying like a jet plane, And we’ll make it right tomorrow, but tomorrow not a sure thing.” A single tear rolled down your cheek. Instantly, your mind wandered to your first big fight with Jake.

It was years ago now, so long ago that you couldn’t even remember what it was about. It had escalated quickly, much like this one, eventually ending in you retreating into your shared bedroom and slamming the door in his face. The door stayed locked for the rest of the night. Jake had slept on the couch, or attempted to anyways. The both of you never slept well when you were apart. It was something that you learned during his first deployment while you were together. 

When you walked down the stairs at four in the morning you expected him to be sound asleep, not sitting at your kitchen table with a glass of water, staring blankly into the dark. You had approached him slowly, not bothering to turn on the lights when you spoke. “Ya know, there was this thing that my mum told me all the time,” He remind stoic. So still, in fact, that you wondered if he was just sleeping with his eyes open. You continued quietly. “She told me that you should never leave someone angry because there’s no promise of tomorrow,” You could hear the hitch in his breath. “Something could happen,” you murmured, sitting next to him. “You could go, and when you come back they're gone. They could be gone forever.” 

You spent that morning crying into each other's arms. It was no secret that Jake’s job was dangerous; you often found yourself thinking of the worst possible outcomes when he was in the air. That day, you made a promise to each other that whatever should happen, you would never leave the other angry. You would always make time to work it out. Tonight that promise was broken. 

The song continued. “Head’s scared, hearts broke, burned from a band of gold, rather just be alone, Burns, just a bad joke,” Your eyes wandered to the ring on your finger. You loved Jake. You were planning to spend the rest of your life with him. There was no way that you were willing to give that up over some stupid fight. More tears fell. 

“Red dress, spilled wine, caught in a stupid fight, I’m wrong, you’re right, Kiss me goodnight.” You had made up your mind. Standing, you brushed off the sand from your jeans and headed back to your car. You quickly pulled out of the parking lot and began the drive home, desperately hoping that Jake would be there when you got there. 

Minutes later you were pulling into your driveway. Jake’s truck was parked next to yours. Hopefully, that meant he was home. Hurriedly, you yanked open the door and walked inside. A pit of dread settled in your stomach when you found it dead silent. The living room was empty; there was no noise from the TV, and there was no music playing. It almost seemed as if no one lived there. You walked into the house, holding back your tears as best as possible. Surely he would be here. Right? 

In the kitchen, you found the lights turned off. A heavy breath escaped your lungs when your eyes landed on the kitchen table. Jake was sitting in front of you with a glass of water clasped between his shaking hands. There were tears leaking down his cheeks as he stared at the wall in front of him. “Ya know,” You called softly. “My mum had this saying. That you were never supposed to leave angry after a fight,” You pulled out the chair and sat next to him. Jake released a trembling breath as you continued. “Because you never know what could happen.” It was choked out through a sob, your tears falling steadily as you watched your fiancé. 

Jake let out a watery chuckle, eyes finally meeting yours. “I’m so sorry.” You whispered sniffling He just shook his head and opened his arms. You fell into them as you sobbed into his chest. You could feel the light kisses he was pressing into your hair causing you to sob harder. How could you have jeopardized this? 

You kept mumbling into his shirt, repeating how sorry you were and how much you loved him. Jake shushed you quietly. “It’s okay, baby. I’m sorry too,” His voice was soft and soothing. His southern drawl was thicker when he was emotional, something that you always loved. “I love you, baby. So much.” You could practically hear the tears in his voice. Pulling back, you were met with the sight of Jake wiping tears from his eyes. He was never one to cry, so seeing him this upset was something new. 

You glanced down and saw the tear stains on his shirt. Before you could start apologizing, Jake grabbed your cheeks with his hands gently and tilted it up to meet his eyes. They were bloodshot and still full of tears but he was staring at you with so much love and adoration that you lost all other thoughts. His thumbs began tracing your cheekbones softly, wiping away any tears. Jake smiled down at you, kissing you softly before pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“I love you.” His words were soft. They were spoken with such certainty that it brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. In that moment, you realized just how much Jake Seresin loved you. It was clear in his eyes, his words, the gentleness when he held you. His words were a promise. A vow that no matter what happened, you would always have each other. Sure, there would be more fights and the road wouldn’t always be easy. But you loved each other. And that’s all that matters.

a/n: Thank you for reading! requests for mood boards and fic’s are open. 

[kissingghouls]

Question Marks (Mary Goore x Reader)

Summary: A night out with Mary has you wondering some things, but Mary presents you with an offer you can't turn down. (3200 words)

(continuing from: Part One - Winter Chill, Part Two - The Date, but can be read on its own. choose your own adventure 💜)

Tags: Fluff, Kissing, the return of the feral cats, marshmallows, blanket forts, he/they Mary

The bar is loud and completely overflowing with people. They spill out in all directions—some to the street, some to the patio, and some are taking refuge nearby, crowding the tiny hallway by the stage. You’re hardly surprised by the sight—there wasn’t much to do in this town and even fewer places to do it in. But you can’t hear your own thoughts, let alone what anyone else is saying and your back hurts from standing so long. The clock keeps ticking later and later while other people get to demand your date’s attention.

At least, you think this is a date. You’re not quite sure and neither of you said it out loud, but the way Mary’s barely left your side all night seems to at least imply that it is. And that’s where it starts to get complicated in your head. Is this your third date? Or just the second? Does making out by the river even count as a date? And if it wasn’t a date then what the hell was it?

It doesn’t really matter, but you know people will start asking soon. They’ll all start trying to make the two of you define whatever this is with strict labels and someone else’s rules. All you really want is for this thing to keep going. Everything is easy with Mary, at least when no one else is involved, and you like that. You like that you haven’t had to think about things or second guess your every move while worrying if he even likes you. You’re not sure Mary could even pretend not to like you.

Some guy, Chris or something, has been occupying Mary’s time for a good five minutes. It’s all band guy talk you don’t have the energy to follow, a conversation you’d barely have anything to contribute to even if you weren’t so fucking tired. Mary squeezes your hand as he talks and you’re not quite sure if it’s a silent apology or a cry for help. You really don’t mind that they’ve been the life of the party the entire night, but having Mary to yourself and making out in a dark corner is slightly more appealing than anything anyone else could possibly want to talk about. 

He leaves you with a soft touch and a cheeky grin, a sure sign that they’ll be right back. You don’t need the reassurance, but sometimes Mary’s just so unpredictably sweet and you’re not going to do a damn thing to discourage that. You watch them for a moment, smiling to yourself as they move through the alley behind the bar. Outside it’s all obscenities and playful insults exchanged between various groups, borrowed lighters and “did you hear that album?” There’s a shuffle underneath, a running current moving like ants on a hill as various dudes squeeze bodies and gear between a tank of a van and a door that’s more rust than anything.

You lean against the wall doing your best to keep out of the way. Your head rests against old flyers and graffiti as you let your attention drift from a certain metalhead to nothing at all. The bar smells of smoke and cheap beer, both scents reaching from different directions to converge directly under your nose. It should probably be gross, but it’s mostly just familiar in a comforting way. A sense memory of nights exactly like this. Nights with Mary.

Your eyes find them again, slowly tracing the silhouette of their frame in the alley. The cigarette between their lips wavers slightly as they smile at you, the bright orange ember bobbing up and down. It’s ridiculous the way fondness washes over you. Mary’s not even doing anything and you’re fucking swooning.

You’re aware of all of it, aware of the implications and possible declarations your presence presents. The simple act of standing where you are is enough to suggest something is going on between the two of you. Something that is made even more obvious with each touch or grin Mary gives you. There’s a feeling in your stomach, the proverbial butterflies have been replaced by what feels like drunk bees. It only intensifies when Mary lands in front of you, unable to stay away any longer. Smoke and cold hang around their jacket, another sensation that is decidedly Mary Goore. But the way they lean over you with one hand on the wall and the other tilting your face up to match the angle makes your brain stop completely. Their lips are cold, but the kiss is so heated you find yourself gripping their jacket and holding on for dear life. It’s tongues and teeth, messy with the sweetness of the cherry cola the two of you split earlier. Kissing Mary is like a sugar rush, a burst of all those feel-good chemicals flooding your body.

This wasn’t part of the plan of course. You and Mary were still figuring things out, trying to really get to know each other rather than relying on secondhand information and crazy rumors you’d heard over the years. But the trouble with taking things slow was that sometimes when you were meant to be doing other things you still found yourself focused solely on Mary.

The look his gives you as he pulls away suggests he’s struggling with something similar. It’s not curiosity or even attraction really—it’s more like desire disguised as hunger. A predator and prey. The amount of fake blood smeared all over their face easily gives away who is who. You’re so hopelessly caught in their web that the cocky smile he shoots your way is both too much and not enough, but god how you don’t want them to let you escape.

Mary knows they’ve got you right where they want you. Knows they’ve figured out how to make your knees weak, how to weaponize their body against yours. It’s a challenge you’re all too happy to accept even if technically you’re supposed to be moving at a glacial pace. But Mary just shakes his head and grins as he shrugs out of his jacket and carefully transfers his prized possession to your shoulders.

“You ok, sweetheart?” they ask and reach up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I’m good,” you reply with a nod. “Just tired.”

“Aw I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t mean to keep you out so late.”

“No, it’s fine,” you insist. “I’m having fun. It’s just been a long night.”

“You want me to take you home?”

“There is no way in hell I’m letting you drive my car, Goore.”

“Worth a shot,” they reply with a laugh. “What if…you crash at my place? We can have a little sleepover? I’ll build you a blanket fort.”

“Hmm…will there be popcorn?”

He laughs again. “Darlin’, I will get you whatever your little heart desires.” 

“In that case, I desire snacks and this blanket fort. Maybe a little more making out.”

“I think I can do that.”

“You’ve got a deal, Goore.”

He grins and takes your hand, quickly pulling you through a cluster of your friends and his, ignoring anyone who calls out your names. The gossips in this town will have the two of you married by morning, but you couldn’t care less when Mary looks at you the way he does.

It’s a quick stop to pick up way too much junk food, but they refuse to let you pay for any of it. The girl behind the counter is visibly annoyed by the two of you play fighting over the cost of candy, heaving an angry sigh as you swipe Mary’s wallet and take off down the aisle. They catch up to you somewhere near the beer cooler and maybe you let them have this little victory. You’re too content in their arms to try to get away again anyway.

He keeps his arms around you all the way up to his front door, tucking them into the jacket you’re both somehow trying to wear at the same time. You can’t help but laugh as he buries his face in your neck and asks you to unlock the door. It takes half a second to their neighbor to appear and scowl at the two of you before slamming their door to prove a point.

“Gonna get me in trouble, darlin,” Mary groans, but it’s obvious he doesn’t mind at all.

“Better be quiet then.”

He growls low in your ear, holding you a little tighter as he urges you toward the door. It’s warm inside the apartment this time, not that you would complain about sharing a blanket with Mary. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t kind of hoping it would happen again. You doubt they’d turn down the offer.

They reluctantly pull away and excuse themselves, darting through the kitchen to check on the cats outside. As soon as they hear him coming a chorus of desperate meows starts at the back door, a little more pitiful each time. He laughs and greets them, temporarily quieting their tiny screams with replenished bowls of food.

They’re three steps away, but somehow it’s still too far. While they’re carefully patting one of the cats between the ears, you reach over and run your hand through their hair. Mary almost moans, bending backward to look up at you as your nails graze their scalp. Their eyes close as you give their hair a little tug and bend down to kiss them and this time Mary definitely moans.

With Scratch and Sniff fed, Mary’s attention centers back on you. He pulls you down to capture you in a kiss—innocent at first, but neither of you are interested in breaking away so the only thing left to do is escalate until you’re both a little breathless. They grin as you finally separate, kiss-swollen lips now a darker shade of pink and you wonder if you’re wearing the remnants of their black lipstick on your own mouth. As if to answer your question, they reach up and swipe their thumb across your bottom lip. 

“We should go back inside,” he suggests softly.

You nod lazily and let him pull you to your feet, happy to follow him anywhere at this point.

“You wanna borrow something to wear, sleepy darlin’?” he asks as he heads toward his room with your hand in his.

It wasn’t necessary for you to change into Mary’s clothes. Your own t-shirt would have been just fine to sleep in, but once the offer was made how could you do anything but accept? He searches his dresser for something acceptable, looking almost nervous as he hands you a shirt and some boxers.

“They’re clean, don’t worry,” they tease, trying to dodge as you swat at them with their clothes. “The bathroom’s through—”

“I remember.”

“Right. Yeah. Cool.”

It’s an odd tone and you can see the gears turning in their brain, a wave anxiety suddenly working overtime. It’s a side of Mary you haven’t seen before, all that cool confidence stripped away. You’re not sure what’s causing the sudden doubts, but you cup his face and press your lips to his to offer as much comfort as you can without making them explain. They lean into you, body practically melting against yours as they relax completely under your reassurance.

“I’ll be right back,” you add with a grin that rivals theirs.

“Wait,” they say and pull you back in for another quick kiss. “Ok, I’m good now.”

“Try not to miss me too much.”

“Ah, in that case, come back for a second. Maybe two seconds.”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you head for the bathroom. Maybe it’s supposed to be weird. Maybe it is weird for Mary, but you try not to think too much about it as you change clothes. You take a moment to admire the softness of the shirt, tracing a hand over the once-black-now-grey cotton and the cracked letters of a logo.  You’d seen Mary in this shirt a hundred times at least. It was clearly one of their favorites and if you were honest, you didn’t hate the way it looked on him. But now those cut off sleeves are on your shoulders and the thing smells like him in the most wonderful way. You like it so much that the thought makes you blush hard, cheeks flaring red-hot until you’re stuck gripping the bathroom counter to calm down.

Once it finally ebbs, you slide back into the bedroom and find them hard at work. The look of determination on their face is so cute you want to cry, but you settle for leaning against the doorframe and watching them create a masterpiece. In the few minutes you’ve been gone they’ve managed to pull together what must be every blanket they’ve ever owned. The bed is almost entirely buried under a mountain of varying colors and textures with all your collective snacks stacked neatly on top. There’s a good three feet of stuff piled up with no real indication on where he intends either of you to sleep. If he’s done this much, he probably has a plan and you’re hardly going to be upset if you’re Mary’s little spoon.

You just can’t believe he was serious about the blanket fort.

He stops as soon as he spots you standing there, jaw hanging open at the sight of you in his shirt. “Fuck,” he breathes before scrambling around the bed to get to you. “Look at you.”

“See something you like, Goore?”

“You have no fucking idea, darlin’. Looks fucking good on you. Fuck.”

“I think you said that already.”

They nod slowly, eyes still tracing over the lines of you. “Yeah, I’m uh, I’m gonna need a minute to wrap my head around this. Might need you to pinch me.”

You shrug and reach out, pinching one of their nipples between your fingers just enough to make him squeal.

“My tits!” Mary howls, cupping their chest dramatically as they dodge your next attempt. “This kind of behavior is prohibited at Fort Goore!”

“Fort Goore?” you ask with a laugh, and he beams so proudly at you that your heart actually hurts from the cuteness of it all.

“This is my opus,” they explain excitedly, gesturing to the mass of soft behind them. “Most comfortable place on the planet. It’s my best work, really.”

“You’re real serious about sleepovers, huh?”

“Well, yeah.” They reply with a shrug. “Kinda want you to stay.”

You can’t help but smile, shaking your head as your face gets warm. “It does look it’s pretty comfortable in there.”

“It’s the pinnacle of comfort, sweetheart. You won’t find anything cozier than Fort Goore.” They lead you toward the little hideout and pull a blanket aside to reveal the inside. “Go on. Check it out.”

You crawl under the tented blankets and follow their shadow as they run around adding a few finishing touches to their castle. As far as you’re concerned it’s already a modern architectural marvel. A system of tacks, pushpins, an entire spool of twine, a chair and a precariously leaning guitar case holds the ceiling up, suspended over the top of Mary’s TV. The interior is a nest of blankets and more pillows than can reasonably fit on the bed, but they’ve built a retaining wall from the sofa cushions to contain them. The whole thing is cute and silly and the amount of thought they’ve put into the construction is nothing short of impressive. You wonder if maybe this was how Mary spent their childhood, creating their own elaborate little worlds out of whatever was available. It wouldn’t surprise you to learn that this wasn’t the first fort—you doubted it would be the last—but this one…this one Mary built for you. It’s the kind of thought that has your chest feeling tight like it so often does near Mary Goore.

A minute later he turns out the light and climbs into the fort beside you. He shoots you another one of those trademark Mary grins, all crooked and toothy in the dim light from the tv. He looks so adorably happy as he tears into the first packet of candy that you can’t look away. He pats around until he finds the remote and hits play on some old black and white monster movie.

“You were so right about snacks. How’d you get so good at this date thing?”

“Ah, so this is a date,” you tease with a grin of your own.

“Wait, is it not?”

“I don’t know. You could be casually building blanket forts for everyone in town.”

“Are you kidding? That would take way too much time. Plus, there aren’t that many people in town I like enough to share a fort with. This is all for you, darlin’.”

“You’re a marshmallow, Goore.”

“Yeah, I might be. Just don’t tell anyone, ok? It’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Cross my heart,” you promise and draw an X over your chest. “But, for the record, I like marshmallows.”

“C’mere,” he says with a grin and pulls you close enough to drop a kiss on the top of your head. “I like you too, darlin’.”

“Yeah, you’re kinda terrible at hiding it.”

“Sorry, you just make it so damn easy to like you.”

“Stop,” you whine and hide your face against their shoulder.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“Mary?”

“Hmm?” he hums in response.

“Kiss me.”

“Happily.”

He claims your mouth with his—a sweet, gentile kiss until he gets his hands in your hair. Your lips part and the two of you are sinking down into the bed as your tongues and legs tangle together. It’s a little hurried, a little clumsy, all wandering hands and the softest sounds while the pile of snacks and pillows inevitably ends up on the floor. You’re too warm—dizzy and a little drunk on Mary Goore, but you don’t want to let them go. You don’t want to stop; don’t want to think about anything other than the way he bites your lip and that self-satisfied chuckle rumbling in his throat when you gasp into his mouth.

Neither of you hear the front door slam. It’s the “what the fuck, Mare?” screamed from the other room that finally breaks you apart. Seconds later someone you assume is Mary’s roommate is pounding on the door shrieking about the missing blankets and the state of the sofa. You slap both hands over your mouth to keep from laughing while Mary rolls their eyes and makes faces as their roommate continues to yell.

“Ooh, I think you’re in trouble, Goore,” you tease in a whisper.

“Ugh. That prick has ruined two of our dates now,” he groans, shaking his head.

“I don’t think either of them were ruined, but…” You trail off and bite your lip. “Maybe next time we can go to my place?”

“Next time, huh?” he repeats with a grin. “You got a little crush on me, darlin’?”

“Yeah, I might,” you admit. “Can’t help it. You just make it so damn easy to like you.”

Mary shakes his head and pulls you closer, letting his eyes close as he holds you. It doesn’t take long for either of you to fall asleep after that, curled up together under a canopy of his roommate’s stolen bedsheets.

-x-

thank you all so much for reading and commenting on the last two parts. 💜 should I do a tag list for these?

more stuff by me // what does Mary Goore smell like? // ko-fi tip jar

[heespect]

ℒost Time · n.rk

pairing : Ni-ki x afab!reader

warnings : idk? It may probably sound a bit angst depending on some people's point of view

-note : honestly, I didn't like this that much but I spent last night working on this and I just decided to post it

wc : 1,3 k

THE CAR SPEAKERS CRACKLED TO THE SOUND of the radio back then, singing the sweet melodies of the songs of the moment. However, their acapella could barely be heard as so many teenagers roamed the streets, enjoying their youth.

They had no time to waste, as sweat streamed down their foreheads and they laughed like wildlings after a few dumb jokes were told by one of their friends.

That was youth, the one you spent your entire childhood dreaming of, looking out the window and imagining when you would be one of those happy teenagers on the street.

But when we live in a world like this, there's nothing more ironic than time.

You couldn't quite tell exactly when your life seemed to completely unravel, following as if it were just an automatic flow that you wouldn't remember the next day. It was all so monotonous, you would repeat your entire routine daily, forgetting about the world outside. Why is it so draining?

Wake up, get dressed, have your breakfast, go to school, jot down any nonsense your teachers incessantly write on the boards, nod when your friends make a joke, go back home, do homework, and then sleep. You would repeat this tomorrow, maybe for the next few months, or maybe until the day you finally found yourself in adulthood, occupied with jobs and endless bills to pay every month.

At some point, you felt tired of this life, feeling empty. You saw yourself wasting away your life. Your youth.

But still, you felt unable to change it, suddenly feeling excluded from your group of friends and mainly feeling out of place in a place where everyone knew how to act or have fun. That was until you met him.

Nishimura Riki parachuted into your life, he was quite different and had a unique way of having fun. The boy didn't need to get high on alcoholic drinks or illicit things to have fun, he would just live life lightly.

That's exactly what captivated you.

When he introduced himself in front of the class, with his hair still dyed blond and a clumsy Korean, you would never imagine he would change your life.

"Hi..." He was the one who started talking to you back then, appearing on the terrace and standing right in front of you with a headphone hanging from one side of his ear.

"Hi?" You replied uninterested, almost about to get up from your seat and probably leave, ignoring his presence.

That might sound kind of rude, very rude, but still, you forced yourself out of this automatic zone. Come on, make new friends, live a little more than youth could offer.

But who were you trying to fool? Perhaps you had been living in autopilot mode for so long that you had forgotten how to act normally, how to interact with people instead of just nodding along to everything they say...

Luckily, that was easy for Riki. It was amazing how he could start any conversation, say or do anything that would make you laugh and want to talk more with him.

"Oh, you like him too?!" He practically almost shouted, ecstatic to find out that his new friend liked the same movie as him.

"Of course! Who's your favorite Spider-Man? God, I love Andrew Garfield so much!" You smiled excitedly, waving as you watched his eyes light up with excitement.

And that's how you became friends, sitting on the school terrace and sharing Riki's earphone, while randomly listening to his musical taste.

And then you started hanging out frequently. You rode bikes aimlessly or just went on any adventure he proposed. Sometimes, when you didn't intend to go out, you just lay on the floor of your rooms and talked about trivial things in life.

Thinking about it, that was the youth you dreamed of as a child. You didn't need to get high to have fun, you didn't need to sleep with strangers or probably be your parents' disappointment.

You just needed a Riki in your life to make more sense.

Fall was almost over, and soon winter would begin with small snowflakes falling on the gray streets. It was cold, but still your bodies kept warm as you left the large studio in the city center.

One of the main things you had learned about Riki over time was how much he loved to dance. His mother owned a dance studio, and since he was little, he was interested in and participated in it with his older sister and later with his younger sister.

It was his birthday, Riki was already turning sixteen when you suggested going to a dance studio with him to celebrate his years of life. The boy, on the other hand, immediately agreed to the proposal, promising to teach you some choreography.

Obviously, that didn't work out, you were so busy admiring his talents and trying not to step on his feet that the little meeting was just a failure.

At least a fun failure, you concluded.

"You're not going to get cold?" You asked, eyebrows raised, as Riki, in a gentle gesture, took off his coat to cover your body.

"Nah, I'm good like this," he shrugged, finishing adjusting his coat over his shoulders.

For a few moments, still that night, you considered kissing him. But you didn't, just admiring his beauty.

It had been a while since your heart fluttered strangely when it came to Riki. Sure, he was kind and had never done anything wrong to you; sometimes, he even treated you like a girlfriend, causing confusion in people who didn't know him.

However, you just considered that you might be confusing things. Riki had shown you the good side of youth, how to enjoy the moments, and he was definitely a great friend in the few months you had known each other. You imagined it was just your heart confusing gratitude with love.

The boy cleared his throat beside you, his hands brushing against each other as you both crossed the local bridge in the city, heading towards your homes.

"Thanks for coming with me to the studio, (y/n)," he smiled timidly, showing his white teeth. And oh... How you liked the way he smiled...

"No need to thank me, you goof!" You waved, nudging his arm. "Besides, I should apologize for not having money for presents or birthday cakes..."

Riki then scratched his head, looking away as you both stopped near the bridge railing.

"Um, actually, you don't need to buy presents to make me happy," he explained, looking at the hazy sky just above you both.

"How so? You gifted me well when it was my turn!" You waved, denying. "I'll give you something in return when I have money."

"In fact, you can give me something now..." Riki grumbled, reaching into his pocket.

"What?"

Slowly, he approached, and you didn't mind, of course; this was the kind of attitude he had with you for some time. Before, you thought he would kiss you - you wanted that, but you would never vocalize it out loud, but then he just backed away,

as if he were teasing you.

Your heart raced when his stormy dark eyes met yours, shining as if a million galaxies were in them.

You would never know, but the reason for his sparkle was precisely because of you.

Riki hesitated, biting his lower lip as his soft hands touched your cheeks, slowly bringing his face closer until both were placed in a kiss.

A peck. That was the gift Riki wanted, and it also showed how worthwhile it was to embrace youth, creating memories with him.

The kiss was short-lived, your lips merely meeting his with a brief peck before slowly pulling away with flushed cheeks.

Today, you're happy to look back and reminisce about so many memories, to look at your hand and see the small silver ring on your ring finger.

Youth is like a fleeting butterfly, beautiful and delicate, dancing briefly in the garden of time before flying away.

[c0la-queen]

Tom Headcanons | The Tired Friend

---

Appearance:

Tom's skin is fairly tan. His hair is a light brown color and he keeps his facial hair at a chin scruff.

He is the shortest of the boys, standing 5'11 tall. The teasing he experiences from the boys due to this makes him grumpy and he is not afraid to punch them in the gut over it.

While he is slightly lanky (not to the same level as Matt, but not as bulky as Tord or Edd) he does have a healthy bit of chub to him.

It's unknown exactly how many tattoos Tom has, or if he even has any at all. He refuses to answer the question. If Reader asks, he'll just ominously say "you'll find out" then change the subject. As for piercings, he has an eyebrow piercing and multiple ear piercings.

Family Life:

Tom is the most tragic of the group in this aspect.

When he was young, his parents passed away in an accident. Since he was a child, his brain blocked out the entire experience, so he can't remember exactly what the accident was- nor does he really want to remember.

He and his brother went and lived with an aunt after this happened- they were still in town, so his friends didn't change.

He was never particularly close with that aunt so he fell out of touch with her after a while.

As for his brother, who is a year younger than him, he talks to him occasionally but not often.

So, overall, doesn't have the best relationship with his biological family- but that's okay, because the roommates are his family now.

Personality:

Seems kind of cold, but he's actually pretty friendly.

He's just tired all the time.

His sense of humor is broken. He would find fail videos the funniest shit. Probably loves the Everlong trend on Tik Tok.

A huge music nerd, but keeps it lowkey because he thinks its embarrassing. He knows all kinds of music, and can probably name a shit ton of songs that play on the radio off the top of his head. Definitely has a whole self full of vinyl records that he's collected.

I like to dip more into his bass playing than a lot of people I've seen ever do. He usually waits until he's home alone or only one other person is in the house to play, just because he doesn't wanna bother the others. Has learned how to play a good handful of songs on his bass. Follows those accounts on Tik Tok that do bass and electric guitar covers of songs.

He's pretty decent at singing, but never sings around others because it makes him flustered. Will occasionally sing lullabies to Reader when she can't sleep or had a nightmare. But she's the only one he'll sing for.

Although he acts like he hates all of them, he cares a lot about the others. He doesn't acknowledge it or admit it, but he does take care of his roommates here and there. Yes, even Tord.

On the flip side, he's shit at taking care of himself. it's honestly a miracle that he's as healthy as he is. Probably ends up falling asleep in random areas of the house the most, leaving the others to sigh and lay a blanket on top of him when they find him.

"Cry about it." "Sucks to suck."

He likes playing Minecraft. Finds it so peaceful, definitely a welcome break from the chaotic household. He'll let Reader lay between his legs while they lay in bed with him and he plays. Learned how to play his favorite Minecraft songs on his bass.

Chronic sloucher. The man has Certified shrimp posture. Help his poor spine.

Tom is a professional photographer! He's very good at what he does and has quite the schedule booked. Makes sure its very clear to his clients that he is not available for bookings on the weekends - those are reserved for his family roommates.

He loves Ghost-type Pokemon. I have no reasoning behind this one, honestly. Just vibes. He's got a Gengar Squishmallow on his bed that he treats like his own son.

A very simple man. Likes the simple and peaceful things in life. Too bad he got his ass irreparably bonded with three (four counting Reader) of the most unhinged, chaotic people in existence.

Yes. Several of his accessories are black and white checkered. Sue him, but he's consistent. Main things to note of this theme are his phone case, a pair of slip-on Vans, and the old skateboard in his closet that he hasn't used since secondary school.

Like Tord, he's got a smoking habit that he's trying to combat with vaping. Still uses cigarettes on particularly stressful or frustrating nights.

Likes drinking Java Monster Energy.

Very proud vinyl record collector. Not picky about what kind of records he gets, though he tends to prefer ska and classic rock (dad rock). One of the best things to get him as a present, he'll love it dearly.

Has so many playlists. Making them is therapeutic for him. It's one of his love languages, a way that he expresses his feelings. Also has playlists for his emotions, and for all kinds of different situations like rainy days or beach trips. Showing Reader his playlists would be him opening up to them in a huge way.

Playlist (From My Spotify Playlist For Him):

Arctic Monkeys

Tame Impala

Fall Out Boy

Green Day

The All-American Rejects

Halestorm

Waterparks

Wallows

Anthony Amorim

Lovejoy

Gorillaz

Cigarettes After Sex

[enbycrip]

I am pro-kid because I am pro-human, and kids are people. No matter how much social bullshit tries to say they are not.

No one asked to be here. Everyone deserves a loving, gentle, safe childhood; and the world is actively a much worse place because that idea is somehow controversial.

Active hostility towards kids also *massively* entrenches the inequality birthing and feeding parents experience. If you really hate kids but you don’t hate women and people read as women, sell treating kids like people to yourself on fighting misogyny. And consider that hating any group of marginalised people for their marginalisation is bigotry.

You don’t have to like kids en masse. You *certainly* don’t need to have them if you don’t want to, or to babysit kids if you don’t feel comfortable doing so.

But you *do* have a responsibility to treat kids like people, including accommodating their needs. Don’t be a dick to kids you meet in the wild, and don’t be a dick to parents because their kids are acting like kids.

And be aware of the intersections of privilege when you are considering kids in public. Kids who are getting in your way in public spaces are likely to be doing that because of poverty, frankly. Very few parents *want* to take their young kids on a long ride on public transport, especially if said kids are clearly either tired and cranky or full of energy that public transport is a shitty environment to release it on. If they are doing this, it is likely because they have no other options.

And please don’t make the disingenuous “they chose to have kids” argument; horribly, bodily autonomy is not a given for birthing parents. About a third of births in “western countries” are unplanned. There is lack of access to birth control and reproductive healthcare and there are controlling partners (manipulation through sex and reproduction is a favoured tactic for far too many abusers).

A 3 year old having a meltdown is doing it because of their developmental stage and because their basic needs aren’t being met. It’s not deliberate and it’s not under their control. Being a dick about that as exactly as bigoted as behaving that way towards a disabled person who isn’t being accommodated either.

I’m physically disabled and neurodivergent. My adult brother is neurodivergent and learning disabled. I’ve seen a lifetime of people who hate kids hating disabled people too. Including too many privileged disabled people, frankly. There is absolutely such a thing as a clash of accessibility needs, but vocal hatred of other marginalised people, or being a dick to them, because their needs clash with yours is Not Okay.

I am also pro-old people for the exact same reasons I am pro-kid. Because they are all people, and marginalised people at that.

Childhood and old age are the times people living in economically-exploited classes experience the most poverty, because age, and the lack of capacity for economic exploitation that accompanies both old age and childhood, is a characteristic that people are marginalised for.

We live in a society here. We are communal creatures. We have a basic responsibility to be decent to other people, including people who are marginalised and dehumanised, and that includes kids and old people.

If you are organising, including kids and providing childcare is as essential as accessibility. If you don’t, you are literally entrenching the same power dynamics you claim to be organising against. This is a huge fucking problem on the left, and it’s one thing the second wave feminists got entirely right, despite all their other issues.

[pompadorbz]

Saying this away from the characters poll's tags since i imagine running them is tiring enough as is, but i'll still put it in the tags for the respective characters that I saw this behavior under the polls of regardless; Obviously I have my preferences and I have biases for characters but I sincerely love all four characters in the last round that were under the very aggressive campaigns (notably Kiyotaka, Mondo, Ibuki, and Chihiro), and while I've not been in the fandom since the fan translation days or anything like that (I'm sure the use of first names makes that much clear, lol), I've been in here long enough and have been open enough to recognize that there isn't really such thing as a "nothing character" in this series. The casts of these games just aren't designed that way. Sure, some characters may propel the plot along further than others but each character has this baseline amount of effort put into them for those who choose to go looking, so to act as if that isn't there for any handful of characters is a little regressive of the whole "every character can be the protagonist of their own story" writing philosophy DGRP has going on. It gets very tiring watching people confuse their personal distaste for certain characters as gospel, and then most notably, going to attack those who DO like those characters because said characters are not "enough", and are therefore not deserving of higher analysis. And that leads into the main problem here. There is absolutely NO excuse WHATSOEVER for calling people bigoted when they don't vote for the character that you like. There is NO possible justification for pushing the faults of the original writing of a story onto the fanbase for the crime of doing and seeing more with less-than-tactfully written character. If you feel as if you need to use harassment of others as a fear tactic to make them vote for a fictional character in a tumblr poll with absolutely no jurisdiction on anything, then I hate to say it, but maybe this fandom activity was just not made for you. If you truly feel that the collective voting for character A vs. character B in a tumblr poll is a personal attack against you or an entire group of people as a whole, then you need to reassess why exactly you feel that way and whether or not causing an uproar is necessary.

[babymorte]

i’ve basically lost my entire friend group in the span of a month so i think this is my sign that i just shouldn’t have friends.

so from now on i guess my only option is to act as professionally as possible in all interactions. i really just don’t want to deal with anyone at all at this point. my trust in repeatedly being broken, boundaries are basically non existent and i have mutuals thinking im in love with them and anonymously harassing me over it instead of having conversations like actually fucking adults.

im just so exhausted of putting my all into people for it to just blow up in my face. so i guess this is the kiki yall are stuck with now sorry. im tired of people getting the wrong ideas about me and creating their narratives and using my openness as an excuse to say or do whatever they want to me when they know exactly what they’re doing. im tired of the excuses and im tired of the manipulation. i just dont care anymore and i have no desire to talk to anyone at this point.

[piracytheorist]

Okay look maybe that's just me looking for opportunities for angst, but it kind of piques my interest how Twilight reacts to Anya playing spy. He may find it hard to understand how her mind works when it's play time because he didn't get to have play time as a kid in the midst of a war but he doesn't react as much to any of her other games or activities (other than wishing she would focus on her studies like she focuses on watching Bondman); for someone who has made it part of his identity to not reveal he's a spy, it catches his attention a little too much.

Then you've got his reaction to Daybreak; Twilight takes his job so seriously that every little thing Daybreak does annoys him to the point of breaking character and risking an actual fight with him because of it.

Another one, his reaction to realizing all his work in the Campbelldon was for nothing.

Annoyed (and visibly exhausted) by his hard work being for nothing, trying to grasp at straws, hoping that the diary holds another secret meaning which would've made his efforts worthwhile.

It even takes Handler to point out that there were no further threats to the current peace for him to look at the bright side.

And I'm starting to think... for him there's barely a "bright side" in what he does. I don't think there's anything in his work that makes him happy in any way. He finds it dangerous (something kids shouldn't even pretend to do), demanding and serious (enough to get personally offended when other spies don't take it as seriously), exhausting (without actually complaining about it or asking for time off, despite understanding how tired he is all the time), and with full understanding that his deeds won't see the light of day and he won't get any recognition for them (and is, arguably, a little sad about that).

And finally, as I said in another post, how prepared he is to act entirely against his own beliefs in order to do his job right.

Like, Best Spy of WestalisTM or not, it must not be pleasant to smile at and agree with a man who for all you know wants to start a war when you have war trauma of your own. As if all the danger, loneliness, and pain he suffers for his job were not enough, he also has to shut down his emotions, no matter how strong and soul-crushing. And Twilight is no fool - he knows how much he hates war, he knows what it cost him, and he knows he needs to ignore all that. And though he also knows he does it all to avoid another war... I don't think the impact of even just that is lost on him.

I doubt any of his fellow spies harbor any illusions about spy work being glamorous and badass and whatnot, but I feel like we're being led to think that he also understands the impact his job has on his soul and sense of self. He may be willing to do it for the sake of peace, but I feel he hates that this is his only and most promising option.

And maybe... I wonder how he really feels about being so good at this. He's both physically and mentally extraordinary - and you cannot tell me that this is just because of his dedication. No amount of dedication can grant you a photographic memory, the ability to perfectly mimic other people's voices after listening to mere seconds of them, or the ability to fight off entire groups of people dedicated to killing you while you're only on two hours of sleep. Twilight has inherent talents that make him not only suitable to be a spy, they make him the best.

His awareness of his talents and the realization that he can put them to use in order to stop any further conflicts or wars from taking place are what got him where he is now - a lonely, physically and emotionally exhausted man who has given up on ever finding any personal happiness. And as he's said before, he sees that as his duty. With his personal disdain for war, and the knowledge that he can help avoid one in the future, how can he see for himself any future where he doesn't do exactly that? If he doesn't, who will?

So yeah. If that's what he truly thinks of his job, and if his deepest wish is to create a world where children are happy... it's no wonder he reacts negatively to a child pretending to do his job for fun. And I'm like, he already reacts to Anya simply playing spy. Can you imagine his reaction when he finds out she's been helping him with his mission from the moment she met him??? Can you imagine a moment shortly post-reveal where Twilight asks Anya just why she chose him, and she says she originally did it because she found it cool and fun, and then because she saw his noble intentions and wanted to help... and he just replies with "There's nothing cool and exciting about this job, it has destroyed me and I hate that I have no other option" and that completely crushes the way she sees spies?

Yeah I may have gone a bit overdramatic there but honestly that's a whole vibe I'm getting from the story. I cannot see the story ending without identity reveals, and without Loid and Yor giving up their secret jobs (which can only happen if the cold war ends, cause there's definitely no other way Twilight would feel he deserves retirement). The story starts with a spy without a family life; it deserves to end with a family without the burdens of spy life.

(Anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[smiggles]

I'm sorry if this is invasive but can I ask exactly why you lock youre twitter? Youre recent tweets sound like something happened. No worries if you don't want to answer

Honestly I had been wanting to leave twitter for years now. The environment there is horrible for mental health, the way it encourages negativity and forces people to be hyper aware of every bad thing in the world at all times. Negativity below the cut

As well as feeling like the entire universe has its eyes on you. Whether in a positive or negative way. Theres no way to breathe there. Its uncomfortable. Ive had people idolizing me in ways that made me feel like I wasnt a human, striping my characters of their personalities for their benefit, theft, incredibly high expectations. I was seen as a role model and required to act as one because of my "status" and "influence" despite never asking for that or necessarily being equipped for that responsibility. I had to have the correct opinion at all times and everything was timed. If you didnt snap into line and "obey" the majority opinion within a day you were marked as a "bad person". If you were "caught" following someone that had tweeted something unfavorable that morning you get put on a block list. Et cetera et cetera. You get it. I tried so hard to push positive vibes out there and maybe show by example that we can be patient and kind to those around us. It drained me. The last straw for me was, despite everything, I discovered recently theres a group of people who are going around harassing my friends and publicly lying about me saying some really awful things and pretending they used to be friends with me? and Im not even sure..why I dont like to give this kind of thing attention because people like that feel like theyre "winning" by making people go away but Im tired haha. And want to be left alone. SO. IDK. Sorry for the rant =w=a; Im having fun on tumblr and thats what matters.

[delulu4dean]

Animal (Dean Winchester X female!reader)

Warning: mild violence, end of the world

Inspo: Animal by Ke$ha

Word count: 1,459 words

pt 1 pt 2

✰✰✰✰✰

You met Dean on a hunt, years ago, he saved your life. You were drunk, stumbling out of a Ice Nine Kills concert, your so called ‘friends’ ditched you because they were tired of cleaning you up and holding your hair back while you threw up. You loved the rock concerts, the beer, the guys and girls flirting with you, it brought a sense of excitement to your life. You didn’t need your friends to take care of you, you just needed a ride home.

You didn’t even know what direction you were walking in, you were an easy target. So when you were jumped by a group of people, you were too drunk to struggle and get away. Not like you could sober, they were a group of vampires. Or “fangs” as Dean would say. You were in their nest when Dean swooped in with his brother, Sam. They beheaded the vampires and saved you. You owed your life to them.

Your eyes opened to all the darkness in the world. You weren’t doing anything useful with your life, just a boring nine to five to fund your expensive and adventurous lifestyle. You’ve been wanting to be a part of something bigger than yourself, and this was your chance. You told Sam and Dean, no, you demanded that you join them. They weren’t having it, not at all.

All you were was a drunk concert goer. Your entire wardrobe was mini skirts, band shirts, and ripped up cropped tops. Plus two pairs of dress pants and tops for your lame office job. There was no way you could be a hunter. You knew it, they knew it, it was obvious. But you didn’t give up. You begged them, and begged, asking them to teach you. You needed a life to be proud of. Your parents are disappointed in you, your friends have officially dropped you. You need this.

Eventually the brothers give in, and let you go with them to their bunker. Since then you’ve grown close with the two. Sam has become a great of yours. Your personalities aren’t exactly compatible, you don’t have much in common, but Sam was one of the nicest people you knew.

Dean, on the other hand, was quite the guy to befriend. Until you bought more hunting appropriate attire, you were basically parading around the bunker in your mini skirts and band shirts. And you definitely noticed Dean’s eyes following you around. He was gorgeous, you couldn’t deny that. To be fair, both Winchester brothers were. But Dean, Dean had great taste in music, and an electric personality that you were absolutely drawn to.

But for professional reasons, none of you acted on your feelings about each other. You haven’t been on a hunt yet, but you’ve been training. Sam has been helping you get into better shape, and has been basically your tutor in all the basic lore: vamps, werewolves, shapeshifters, ghosts, demons, etc. You’ve met Castiel, their angel, and you learned a lot about Sam and Dean saving the world on multiple occasions, because Cas loved talking about his favorite heroes. Dean has been teaching you how to fight, with the occasional flirty tone, as Dean does.

Normally you roll your eyes and tell him to focus, but occasionally you match his energy. And Dean would be taken aback because you matched his energy well. Not so surprisingly, training with Dean was distracting.

One day, you were practicing your fighting skills, hand to hand combat. Dean was not going easy on you, you were out of breath.

“Dean, I need a moment,” you raised your finger up, stopping him.

“What’s wrong?” He immediately walked up to you to check if you’re alright.

“I’m fine, just tired. Holy shit you are not holding back today.”

He tilted your face up with his finger under your chin, and you just stared into those gorgeous eyes.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you blushed.

“Let’s get some water,” he suggested, putting his hand on the small of your back.

You walked together to the kitchen to drink water, and Dean always kept a hand on you just in case. You were just tired, it was nothing serious, but Dean had to be safe. You both sat down, drinking water.

“You’re getting good,” Dean spoke up. “Might be ready for your very first hunt. And since it’s a typical werewolf case, presumably, it’s the perfect first case for you.”

And that’s what brings you to today. The Impala is all packed and ready for your first hunt. He and Sam have been picking up a couple of werewolf cases here and there, more on average than what they’re used to. Dean grew weary of the idea of you hunting but you insisted, and he just couldn’t say no to you.

You follow the brothers to Dean’s precious car, sitting in the backseat. You’re excited, and nervous. You’re excited for the obvious reasons, you get to prove yourself after all. But things can go wrong, and you could end up outnumbered.

The case wasn’t too far, you could be back at the bunker that night.

Dean parks the car, and the three of you hop out. It’s quiet, too quiet, and you had this sinking feeling in your stomach. Something felt wrong. You all look at each other, and you realize we’re probably all thinking the same thing.

“Hey, y/n, you sure you want to do this?” Dean looked at you.

“No, but if we’re all getting this bad feeling I think strength in numbers would be helpful,” you answer truthfully.

Dean nods and you three carefully head inside, trying to be as quiet as possible. All these werewolves were in a cabin, sitting at a dining table. And as they’re in sight, all their heads snap over in your direction. You let out a small gasp, taking a step back.

“Ah, the guests of honor have arrived,” the eldest one says, standing up. “Nice of you to join us.”

Dean takes out his gun, and points it at the wolf talking.

“Looks like your dinner party is coming to an end,” Dean says.

“Oh but it’s just begun! Our main course just got here, and what a treat for our final meal!”

“Final meal?” Sam asks.

“Ah, you haven’t figured it out yet? We’ve heard about the other packs you’ve ended, I’d assume you heard it from them. Oh well, guess I’ll have to break the news to you.”

“What news?” You ask, your voice shaking. You haven’t spoken to a monster yet, and here they are conversing with the three of you.

“The end is coming. Ever wonder why all those packs were so easy to fight? They rather die in your hands than what’s coming for us. A lot of packs have been enjoying their last meals before participating in a pack suicide.”

“Why is it just you guys? If it’s really the end, why are there no other monsters doing this?” Sam asked them.

The wolf gives you three a sinister smile.

“In due time, Winchester, in due time. News will travel to them.”

“What news, what end?” Dean presses.

“She’s angry with us, all of us. She’s going to put an end to life on earth, or at least most life on earth.”

“Holy fucking shit, can you just spit it out?!” You build up the courage to raise your voice at the creature.

“Ah, Winchester’s plus one, never seen you before.”

“You heard her, spit it out!” Dean booms.

“The moon, she’s angry with us. This Friday night, she’s going… poof.”

“The moon isn’t a sentient being, dipshit,” Dean says.

“Even if it was, an explosion wouldn’t kill all of us,” you state.

“The moon itself no, but her goddess, she’s angry. And the fury of a god is mighty powerful. See the werewolves have been picking up on the smallest changes of the moon, we’ve been reading up about it, and finally someone summoned her. They got the news and it spread from pack to pack. And soon it’ll spread out beyond our species. But not through you guys, no. You’re the treat we’ve all been wanting-“

And with that, Dean shoots him, and the werewolf drops to the ground, limp. The others jump at you, and you shoot at them, not letting them get the chance to hurt you. Like he said, they weren’t putting up much of a fight. Suicide or not, all they wanted is to die by a silver bullet. Which makes you wonder what their goddess has in mind.

You look over at Dean.

“What are we going to do?” You ask him.

“What is there to do? Which goddess is this? Different cultures have their different deities,” Dean sighs.

“Well, we got four days to figure it out,” Sam says. His intent was to instill some hope in you, but instead it filled you with existential dread.

[divinemiracles]

I wish I can I say that I prefer Hunter and Willow's friendship over to them being forced together but I can't since it's barely developed. They have the whole being "half-a-witch" but that isn't even accurate to them. Plus, they have Hunter act completely normal around other people, but have him lose his composure when around Willow and it's gotten really tiring.

Exactly. I try so hard to imagine them as friends but I can barely see it. All I can see is them being a part of the friend group yet not being much of friends themselves (Like Amity and Gus). They should have developed a bond from Willow’s kindness towards Hunter instead of the “half-a-witch” title.

The title was given to them for two completely different reasons: not having magical abilities so feeling worthless in every way possible, & not being able to excel at magic and getting bullied. Why would you compare literal child labor, neglect, and ab*se to bullying? I get Willow being bullied was extremely harsh but it shouldn’t be compared to Hunter’s trauma. His trauma is far more serious.

Then, the show “fixed” them in the end. Hunter obtained Flapjack’s abilities (which he didn’t even use) and Willow became one of the Boiling Isles’ most powerful plant witches. How do they bond after that? The crew probably also “fixed” their trauma and made them no longer self-doubtful. Their entire relationship was built on specifically trauma, which is hard to watch, seeing how much it’s romanticized.

Hunter’s face when Willow mentioned she was being called half-a-witch was just pure shock, honestly. He likely felt bad for her later but during that scene, he was just in genuine surprise. The first time he blushed was when Willow mentioned his schedule. That just felt so odd, she should have said something else. But overall, the entirety of Any Sport In A Storm was inconsistent behavior for every character.

I hate Hunter’s behavior around Willow. He just met her and she was snappy and forceful (which why would they introduce Willow to Hunter like that? She’s the sweetest person ever, she’s not rude!), so he starts blushing. That makes it seem like he was looking for an authority figure that can tell him what to do, which is so frustrating. Couldn’t the crew at least write Willow to have a conversation with Hunter about how he’s allowed to make his own choices? That is one of the many things that should have been elaborated on to enhance their relationship.

I get that Willow is Hunter’s first crush but why would he like her out of all people? Is it because she’s strong and nice? That’s Luz, he could have had a crush on Luz. Hell, I remember someone saying that it would make more sense for him to have a crush on Amity. That’s messed up since she’s lesbian but she has way more similarities to him than Willlow does. He even said it himself.

Just seeing the two interact gives me the vibe that the crew tossed a relationship in because they looked cute together and they thought that they could do it well with the shortening. Which, no. Hunter and Willow’s romantic plot line should have been dropped as a whole.

[drvirgus]

The life you dreamed of

(Series)

Description: Y/n a K-pop Idol of the 5-Member Group Moonlight. But what happens when she falls in Love? How exactly is her life as an Idol and why did she become one?

Idol! Yeji X Idol! Reader

Warnings: Mention of Bullying and Suicide, curse words

Chapter 18:

Masterlist

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

Flashback

Weary, I sat in front of the building. My eyes were on the verge of closing, and my entire body trembled. It was cold, raining, and my clothes were already soaked. However, my eyes remained fixated on the ground in front of me. I wrapped my arms around my body, attempting to generate some warmth.

"Kid, I told you to leave," I heard someone say. I no longer felt the raindrops hitting me. With tired eyes, I looked up at the person holding an umbrella over me. It was none other than the CEO with the initials JYP. My lip quivered slightly.

"I... said I wouldn't leave until I get to audition," I replied solemnly. The older man chuckled. He took a deep breath, gazing up into the dark sky. His eyes returned to me, and a small smile appeared on his face. "You're quite persistent," he said with a smirk. But I couldn't muster a smile.

My hands rubbed against each other repeatedly. The older man licked his lips before sighing lightly. He crouched down right in front of me, still holding the umbrella in his hand. "Why do you want to become an idol? A year ago, during your acting audition, you said it had always been your dream to become an actress. What changed?" the older man asked, his eyes fixed on mine.

I stared directly into his eyes, causing him to pause for a moment. I must have looked pretty serious. "I want to fulfill someone else's dream. It's even more important to me than my own," I replied. JYP hummed in thought. His eyes scrutinized my entire face. After a short hesitation, he straightened up and extended his hand to me.

"Then come. I'll let you audition now," he said with a small smile on his face. "Right now. Show me if you're meant to be an idol. Show me how you sing and behave when you've hit rock bottom," the older man added. My eyes widened as I looked at him.

Without another thought, I grabbed his hand and rose from my seated position. He led me straight into the JYPE building.

End of Flashback

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

Yeji (15:17): Hey, Y/n, we need to talk.

Me (15:17): Sure, what's up?

Yeji (15:17): I saw the news about the accusations. Is it true? Did you really bully someone?

Me (15:19): Yeji, you know me better than that. I would never do something like that.

Yeji (15:19): I thought I knew you, Y/n. But these allegations are serious. People are talking, and I need to know the truth.

Me (15:20): I can't believe you'd doubt me like this, Yeji. It hurts.

Yeji (15:20): I just need to understand, Y/n. Please, tell me what happened.

Me (15:20): I don't even know where to start. It's not true, Yeji. I would never harm someone like that. You should know me better.

Yeji (15:22): It's just... it's all over the news, and people are saying things. I didn't want to believe it, but I need to hear your side.

Me (15:22): I thought you trusted me. We've been through so much together.

Yeji (15:22): I do trust you, Y/n. I just need to be sure.

Me (15:22): Sure of what? That I'm not the person they're making me out to be? That I didn't cause someone's death?

Yeji (15:23): Y/n, calm down. I didn't mean to upset you.

Me (15:23): You've already upset me, Yeji. I never thought you'd question my character like this.

Yeji (15:24): I just want the truth.

Me (15:26): The truth is, I lost someone I cared about deeply. Wooyeon was my friend, and I failed her. But I never bullied her.

Yeji (15:26): Wooyeon? That was her name?

Me (15:27): Yes, and it's all so painful. I tried to help her, but it wasn't enough.

Yeji (15:29): I'm sorry, Y/n. I didn't know.

Me (15:30): Maybe you should've asked before jumping to conclusions.

Yeji (15:30): I should have. I messed up, and I'm sorry.

My eyes were glued to the text Yeji had just sent me. Disappointed by the older girl, I locked my phone and tossed it carelessly onto my bed. With a loud sigh, I let myself fall onto the bed, and almost immediately, my arm found its place over my eyes. It made it easier for me to suppress the tears.

At least... sometimes.

A sniffle escaped me as I felt the first tear roll down my temple. I could sense the tear making its way to my ear, settling there. My arm still over my eyes. It hurt... Not even Yeji believed me.

The woman to whom I gave my heart... Or rather, the one who just took it from me, simply didn't believe me. She really thought... I was capable of that?

The tears seemed endless. My throat ached as I cried as quietly as possible. None of my members should know that I was shedding tears right now. No one... really no one. I am the idol who never stops smiling.

But... it hurt. Fortunately, my members and Satzu knew me. They were the only ones who believed me right away...

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

A few days passed, and I decided to do a live session after a long time. Once again, it was impromptu and without a manager, as this idea came to me quite spontaneously. I smiled at the growing number of viewers, my AirPods in my ears as I took a sip from my glass of water.

My eyes immediately caught the flood of comments. My smile diminished as I read through them. Nevertheless, I fought to maintain my composure. "Hello and welcome to my live," I greeted as cheerfully as possible. "I know it's been quite a while, and as most of you probably know, there are currently some rumors about me circulating on the internet," I said, smiling somewhat.

I took a deep breath as I looked directly into the camera. "I won't apologize. I won't explain myself either... To be honest, I just want to forget the whole thing. Wooyeon... that name should never be uttered by a specific person, which is why... I won't be addressing it either," I said with a soft sigh.

A small smile returned to my face as I rubbed my hands together. "The only thing... I can and want to say is that Wooyeon-ah was my friend. Whether you believe me now or not, this is my truth, and I won't bend myself to serve you an excuse or a lie. That's just not who I am," I stated. A slight smirk appeared on my face as I let this sink in.

My eyes remained on the comments.

blacktang: Y/n, your credibility is shot. Save us the drama and just disappear from the spotlight. #TimeToRetire

bchts: Y/n, stop lying. We all know the truth about your dark past. No amount of denial will change that. #Exposed

 Satzu1: You're not alone, Y/n. Your true fans stand by you. Keep your head up. #SupportingYnAlways

noways: This live is just a pathetic attempt to salvage your image. The scandal is real, and no amount of denial will change that

woooonyoung52: Y/n, you're just avoiding the questions. What really happened with Wooyeon? The fans deserve to know the truth

sherloks: Just saying Wooyeon-ah was your friend doesn't erase the accusations. We need more than that. #FacingConsequences

StarryVoyager: This is so confusing. What really happened between Y/n and Wooyeon? I need details!

Y/nnr1Fan: Ignore the hate, Y/n. Your real fans know your heart. Keep being true to yourself. #LoyalSupport

diantRever: These rumors can't be baseless. There must be some truth to them. #Shocked

thBlitz: Why isn't Y/n providing a proper explanation if shes innocent? #Suspicious

LunaLoom: I used to be a fan, but this scandal changes everything. #Unfollowed

moonlightning: It's important to remember that we don't have all the facts. Let's not make assumptions and wait for a proper explanation

Sighing, I picked up my phone. I smiled, "Well, it seems like the live won't happen today after all. I appreciate everyone who joined in and listened for a bit," I said, lowering my head. I tried my best to hide my sadness, and fortunately, I succeeded.

"I'm going to end the live now. I won't make any more statements on this matter," I said, waving to the camera. Shortly after, I ended the live, and a sigh escaped me. My smile disappeared from my face. "I'm sorry, Wooyeon... I don't think I can handle this hate," I whispered, biting my lip.

I heard the door opening, prompting me to turn to the person standing there. Haewon looked at me, her lips pressed together. "You went live?" she asked as she entered my room and closed the door.

I put on a smile again, not wanting to worry the younger one. But Haewon knew me. She knew exactly how I was feeling right now. "I think... I'm going to leave Moonlight," I said, and almost instantly, Haewon slapped me in the face. Shocked, I held my cheek, looking at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. I was genuinely shocked; Haewon had really slapped me.

"Are you crazy? Absolutely not. We need you here. I need you here," Haewon said, now visibly serious. Her hand was on her chest, and she looked at me with panic in her eyes. But honestly, I was still shocked by that slap.

Haewon sighed softly as she grabbed my wrist and pulled me up onto my feet. I blinked in perplexity, "Without you, I don't want to be an idol anymore," she said, completely serious. My eyes widened as I looked at her. My mouth opened slightly, "What?" I asked. Haewon smirked and nodded her head.

"Without you, I would have left JYP a long time ago. But when I saw you. How hard you worked to improve yourself and still stayed true to yourself... it was clear to me that I wanted to keep watching you. You hold us together, Y/n. So don't even think about quitting," Haewon said, visibly determined. She held my wrist even tighter, "Otherwise, I'll quit with you."

My mouth opened, "N-No. Everything's... fine," I said, still somewhat overwhelmed. However, Haewon still looked at me so seriously and determinedly, "I... won't quit," I said now, which made Haewon snort with satisfaction. She let go of my wrist and briefly examined my cheek.

I chuckled, "You... got me good," I said jokingly, making Haewon look at me with concern. She guiltily touched my cheek gently. Thankfully, her hand was cool. I smiled a bit as I took a deep breath, "Thank you," I said, but I let out another sigh as I slumped back onto my gaming chair.

"But we have to do something. If it continues like this... I'll only bring Moonlight down with me," I said, but Haewon couldn't even open her mouth. Hanni, Yuna, and Yunjin suddenly sprinted into my room. Their eyes widened as they came towards me. Yunjin was the first one to hand me her phone. Hanni gave her phone to Haewon.

JYP had made a statement.

Nervously, I bit my lip. I really hoped they would listen to what I said. I took a deep breath and immediately started reading the statement.

Hello, this is JYP Entertainment.

We would like to inform you about Moonlights Y/ns activities. We have already contacted all of the parties involved with Y/n schedules, and have been coordinating ways to cancel the activities while making sure to prevent as much damage as possible to the other party.

This process took time, so our announcement about Y/n's future activities was delayed. Y/n will be halting all entertainment activities to self-reflect on her actions and to think about if she wants to share her truth with her fans.

We would like to sincerely apologize for causing worry to the fans

-JYP Entertainment

"So... I guess... that might bring some peace?" I asked jokingly, trying to lighten the mood at least a bit. Almost immediately, I got a smack on the back of my head from Yuna. I looked at the much taller person in outrage. Yunjin just rolled her eyes, "God... why... don't you just tell the truth, Y/n?" the older one asked, looking at me.

My jaw tensed, "I don't want to... give Noh Jeong-yang that satisfaction. I won't apologize. I hope... a miracle happens," I said, smiling slightly. Hanni sighed as she immediately ran her hand over her face, "So... stubborn," the younger one murmured. I smiled.

"Guys... calm down. I'm fine, and apparently, I have a little break from work now," I said, laughing. But no one else seemed to find it funny. Sighing, I looked at my members, "Everything will be okay. I'm sure of it. You know... when was I ever wrong?" I asked, starting to grin confidently.

No one... should worry about me...

I'll be fine...

probably...

[official-kenralie-fanbase]

oralie and bronte hcs?

One word: YES.

Bronte won't admit it to anyone but her, but the two of them are best friends

He gives really good hugs, but Oralie is the only one who knows it

She is pretty much the only person who can approach Bronte without direct invitation and not receive a scowl

They get together once a week to gossip about their coworkers.

Oralie's a coffee drinker and Bronte's a tea drinker and they've had many arguments about which is the superior drink

When Oralie joined the Council, Bronte kind of took her under his wing and helped her get adjusted. He would badmouth a lot of the other Councillors to her, so Oralie thought the entire Council hated each other, but no, it was just Bronte

Bronte was one of the only people who didn't underestimate her right off the bat.

In fact, he's never thought of her as weak or fragile. He knows that a lot of her strength goes unnoticed and he'll give her opportunities the other Councillors won't give her

He's also the only one who noticed as Oralie's relationship with Kenric began to evolve from enemies to friends to something more

He confronted Kenric about it, warning him that if he broke her heart, there would be consequences

But then he realized that Oralie really did love Kenric

And he did whatever he could to keep their secret

On the outside, he acts all sick of their nonsense, but he really does care about their relationship.

He tried to convince the two of them to leave the Council. Over the years he's seen a lot of relationships ruined because of the law, but they're both so stubborn they wouldn't leave despite how much Bronte tried to convince them.

When Kenric died, he mostly tried to give Oralie space. With all of the drama at and after Kenric's funeral, the thing she needed the most was time and space to heal.

But then a few days later she showed up at his house late at night, telling him that she couldn't sleep and needed someone to talk to.

Bronte was surprised, but he invited her in and noticed how tired she was, how pale and sick she looked.

He began asking her how she was doing with all this when Oralie just... broke.

Up until that point, she had tried not to cry too much around her coworkers, especially once the funeral had already taken place and Alina had been elected.

But that day, seeing Alina move into the house Kenric had once lived in, seeing Alina at the window Kenric had sat at when they'd both been at their windows pantomiming ridiculous messages to one another, it just really hit her what she'd lost.

And right there, sitting on Bronte's couch, she finally lost it.

Bronte awkwardly patted her back and let her sob into his shoulder, hoping he wasn't just making it worse for her.

But a few minutes later Oralie looked up with tear-stained eyes and told him thank you for just being there for her.

Their relationship was different after that. They'd always been friends, but after sharing something like that, they were closer than before. They were each other's only friend, and often comforted one another in the chaos that would unfold.

When they became Sophie's contacts on Team Valiant and had that strange conversation about her biological parents, Bronte began to realize something was off.

It was only when Sophie accused Bronte of being her biological father and Oralie had an interesting reaction that Bronte went wAiT a SeCoNd

He confronted her about it after Loamnore and Oralie finally admitted the truth

At first, Bronte was really upset with her. Why would she risk so much for a morally ambiguous project by a rebel group?

But as he began to realize her reasons and her justification, he understood why she'd done it, even if he didn't exactly agree with her

And he knew he'd have to stick by her side, now more than ever

They will defend each other and fight for one another to the bitter end, which is going to make things really difficult when Oralie's secret is revealed

Oh and Oralie has 100% given Bronte multiple makeovers which is why he sympathized so much with Sophie in Legacy

[thelikesoffinn]

fun fact! durge + animal handling = squirrel is fine! also, do u have trouble with characters just... not "behaving"? like, u make the character with the intention of them to act like X Y Z, but instead it feels most "right" for them to do A B C? bc what I ended up w is not what I had intended. got an idea on Reddit to recruit ONLY Astarion to see what dialogue he'd have with no one else there (surprising change: in every instance when I run into the group if githyanki by the bridge he has excitedly asked to kill them. not here. when it was just my Tav he actually wanted to LEAVE to be safe) so I figured, great, I'll just make this dude Astarion's Yes Man and do everything Mr. Sad Wet Cat wants! except... that isn't how it played out. I'd intended to either side w the goblins or ignore that whole thing, but I ended up saving the grove bc that felt like the right thing for my Tav. bc instead of a fanatical Astarion simp he's just a Tired Old Man trying to live quietly, keep his vampire twink out of the worst of the trouble he could be getting into, and find a cure for that same twinks brain worm. (a difficult job) he comes from a noble drow family where he was used as an experimental gladiator for 100s of years. trust a pack of goblins led by a drow lady to have a safe, reliable cure for Astarion? Lolth no, not a chance. so Halsin ended up recruited by default. :/ he just sits in camp tho. oh well, they can be a throuple. trying to wrangle Astarion is a full time job and he could use the help. this also means I need a different character to ascend Astarion, tho, bc this old man said "no, this will not make u happy".

Ho. Ly. Fuck.

I know exactly what you mean, that happens to me all the damn time! No matter if I'm writing a fic, making a character for any rpg or am working on one of my many drafts that will hopefully eventually turn into a book - my characters write their own stories. I have no say in the matter, none at all.

And yes, I'll have plans. But sometimes they're like "nah fuck this, I'm doing this instead" and I'm like: Well okay, you're the boss!

My durge Whisper, for example, was once supposed to be a very seductive - "Well, how tragic - how much is it worth to you?" - Trickster type lady. But the minute I got off the nautiloid it was like: Stoic as fuck, absolutely touch-averse unless it's Astarion, can't show love properly but will definitely beat up anyone who even dares to give the crew the stink eye because "who tf are you to look at my people like that". So that's who she is!

Characters just sometimes do whatever they want and I'm here for it because, let's be entirely honest: Those Characters always turn out the best.