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teecupangel · 4 months

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Hi teecup, I hope ur having a great day/noon/night!

Forgive me if the things i'm about to say don't make much sense. It's been a vey, very, very, difficult time for me and my countrymen here, and my ability to make coherent sentences have declined drastically. So, yeah... BUT! That doesn't matter haha.

Anyways, I had a thought. And i'm not even sure how or why i got it but.... hear me out now...

Our boy, Desmond, gets thrown back in time as usual, same old same old, right? Exept, this time he doesn't end up in the Big Three™'s time-line. He ends up in Al-Mualim's time. *insert mind-blown emoji here cuz i can't find it rn*

And ik that i'm not a certified AC Expert like u and many others, and i haven't really finished any of the AC games yet (i've only seen bits of AC III and have only started AC 2, I also haven't finished AC 1)

But I do know that he wasn't really that creepy and evil in his youth/ b4 he became The Old Man of the Moutain, so i was thinking maybe Desmond ends up in that era of Al Mualim or is it Rashid al-Din Sinan? I know that he's based on a real historical figure but i'm not so sure if he's called that in-game?

And knowing Desmond, he'd probably get the urge to kill Rashid (i hope i'm using the name correctly) the time he figures shit out and connect that dots. But he would end up not doing that, cuz u know, it might fuck up the time-line and Altaïr might end up not being born, creating a domino-effect.

I want Desmond to meet Rashid before he starts to becom the Al Mualim we know today, so that Desmond can see how he was b4 the evants of AC 1.

Maybe Rashid's an arrogant ass, or a nerdy loser, or a popular assassin- who knows! The possibilites are endless!! (or maybe he's an obsessive bastard who gets obsessed with Desmond cuz he's just full of mysteries and wonders :Dc )

And blah blah blah, plot here, plot there, Isu-bullshit this, time shenanigans that, and BOOM they meet.

And romance ensues? :3 (romace wil absolutely ensue :}}} )

NOW, BEFORE- BEFORE YOU TIE ME TO A STAKE AND BURN ME ALIVE FOR THIS- i think it'd be a cute idea, and who knows? maybe Rashid was hot in his prime *insert lenny face cuz even after all these years i still don't know how to type it and is too lazy to cop paste it* and maybe he liked to solve mysteries and had a thing for the unexplainable. And Desmond is the most unexplainable, most bizarre thing to have graced the earth :33333.

Now that i've got this idea out of my system i'm gonna go pray for the down fall of my coutry's shit for brain, good for nothing military government/hj.

bye! *evaporates*

I hope you’re doing alright and I’m sorry that it took two months before I could answer your ask TTATT

As far as I know, he was only called Al Mualim because of legal reasons but Rashid ad-Din Sinan was the leader of the Assassins in Masyaf during 1191 so it’s safe to assume Al Mualim is AC’s version of Rashid (historically he died in 1193, not 1191.

Okay. We can make this work.

We put Desmond at around the same time he’s the recruit and we make it hard for him to realize he’s Al Mualim until it’s too late by doing one simple thing:

Desmond doesn’t know Al Mualim’s real name.

He always knew it as Al Mualim. As far as he knew, Al Mualim was his actual name.

Then he remembered that Al Mualim can mean mentor and bangs his head on the nearest flat surface.

His mission has been clear from the start.

Become an Assassin, take out Al Mualim before he does shit, find Umar and adopt him then play matchmaker so Altaïr would be born.

And no.

Desmond wasn’t going to think about the whole “can you truly be sure that the person who will be born will be Altaïr if you change the circumstances of his conception?”

Yeah.

His head hurts just thinking about it so he won’t.

For now, he’ll focus on his training while keeping a look out for anyone who gives of Al Mualim vibes.

What’s the Al Mualim vibes?

Manipulative old man vibes.

The problem is…

Rashid is one of the recruits in the same batch as Desmond and he becomes Desmond’s closest friend.

And there was no way Desmond would ever be friends with a future power hungry asshole like Al Mualim.

No way.

The way their relationship becomes romantic really depends on the kind of personality young Rashid would have.

A nerdy loser who starts making a name for himself because of his intelligence and tactical mind would start off as the kid Desmond sorta looks after. When he starts to show that his strength lies in making plans and quick judgments, he becomes the man whispering on Desmond’s ear. Providing plans and suggestions while giving Desmond a heads up on the less savory words people say about him. Desmond would never think this Rashid is Al Mualim because he’s nice and truly do want to help Desmond. This is also how Rashid would show his love for Desmond and, really, Desmond would think they’re bros and when he realizes that Rashid actually loves him, he’d think “oh, I am Ezio’s descendant”

An arrogant ass Rashid would butt heads with Desmond but Desmond would find himself fond of the man because he reminds him of AC1 Altaïr. This is the Rashid who would definitely be counted as a tsundere and their relationship would start when Rashid just flatout tells Desmond that he wants to do unspeakable things to him while they’re arguing. Desmond is offended because “tugging on my pigtails doesn’t work in real life, dumbass!” and Rashid is just “???” because what the fuck are pigtails??? Lots of awkwardness until Desmond realize that butting heads with Rashid is really how they flirt.

Now. Popular Assassin Rashid is more on the side of polite but is absolutely Desmond’s rival. Whatever it is, the two of them are always competing. Unlike the arrogant ass version, this Rashid is always nice to Desmond. The whole “no hard feelings” and pure competitiveness are what drives their relationship. This is the one where the two of them spar privately one time and things happen. They would try to distant themselves from one another for a bit until they finally talk it out. Rashid honestly didn’t think he loved Desmond until the whole ‘after-sparring’ thing.

Whichever you pick as Rashid’s background, he will become obsessed with Desmond but it’s more on the side of “I will do everything to make Desmond happy” which is good for Desmond but not really good for anyone against him.

Desmond is the one who adopts Umar in this one and Umar imprints on him like a baby duckling to a mama duckling. Everyone actually assumed Umar is his bastard son. Desmond ignores it even though he’s only like… a decade and a half older than Umar.

Rashid definitely treats him like Desmond’s son. He’s Umar’s favorite of all of Desmond’s friends.

And really, Desmond should have seen that as a hint of Rashid’s ‘future’.

Speaking of the future.

He’s been looking for Al Mualim this entire time and he has his suspects (Rashid, however, is not on the list) but honestly?

He’s just waiting for the person who would be picked as the one to lead the expansion to Masyaf since that would be Al Mualim.

Desmond has, unfortunately, fucked up the timeline so badly that the person chosen to lead the expansion?

It was Desmond.

Sidebar: Faheem would be that cute younger brother who turns grumpy when he grows up. Desmond will forever grieve the lost of little cute Faheem. Faheem is always embarrassed when Desmond talked about his ‘past’.

#umar’s parents are pretty much desmond and rashid #desmond would probably realize rashid is al mualim once they’re older #and at that point #he already got his ‘happy ending’#and just goes #“well i guess i fixed him???”#he didn’t fix shit #he just transferred rashid’s desire for power and knowledge #to a desire to be with him #assassin's creed #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #desmond miles #al mualim

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 3 months

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I need more Ville Valo fics 😩 no one seems to do them anymore! I need another part to Love You To Death! 😍

Love You To Death (Pt. 2)

Y/N makes the painful decision to leave the romance she found in Finland behind, but fate has different plans in mind. By fate, I mean Bam and Ville.

Ville Valo X Fem!Reader, (slight Bam Margera X Ville Valo if you squint?)

(Fluff, angst)

2.5k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, alcohol, manipulation, power imbalance, toxic relationships, unwelcome flirting, creepy guys,

An: Thank you so much for the request!! I had a ball writing this and I’m sure you’ll enjoy t as well :) This was the first fic I wrote after finishing finals, so I hope this is up to par with my usual work! I really wanted to explore how Bam was affected by what was going on with Ville and how Ville feels almost protective of Y/N. As a note, there’s a painting referenced in this fic that was based off of a real piece in the Philadelphia Museaum of art! Anyways, thank you so much for the request and please keep sending them in!

“You’re not actually gonna stay with him, are you?” Bam raised an eyebrow at you from where he was laying against the hotel room mattress. Continuing to fill him in on what happened that night, you cracked open your own tiny mini bar liquor with a sigh, “No, I mean- I can’t.” Bending down to pick up the steadily growing pile of bottles at his bedside, you rolled your eyes, “I mean- it’s not like I could just pack up all my shit and move to Finland!” Trying to ignore your heartbeat thrumming in your ears, you went over the same thing you had been rolling around in your mind since you left Ville’s flat no more than an hour ago.

Tomorrow, you would be flying back home to Philly, away from Finland and away from him, and as well as you knew you couldn’t stay, you didn’t want to go. But as unobservant as he usually was, Bam’s liquor-addled mind made a connection there. He respected Ville. Ville was in love with you. You were friends with Bam. It would be so easy to earn himself a little easy cred with him if he set the two of you up- you know, play Cupid. “So, you got his number?”

Too distracted with stress packing, you didn’t give Bam’s question a second thought, “Of course I did. Why do you care?” Good. He gave you some BS about how Ville is his friend, and if you hadn't gotten his number, he would say you’re stupid, “I know he’s really hot, but I get it- he’s moving a little fast. I mean, you guys just met!” The lip service continued and you were lucky you couldn’t see that smirk of his he was so not hiding. But Bam’s words hit a little closer to home than you expected and made you pause a bit. “Yeah, yeah- I hear ya…”

Bam was getting a thrill out of playing double agent- maybe more than he should. That night, far after he was sure you were out cold, guess who he was calling up? “Ville, man- I got just the idea for you to win over Y/N!” His giddiness was a contrast to Ville’s half-drunk stupor he dove into after you left, still somehow as smooth as ever, “Hmm?” Cupping his hand around the receiver in the dark, Bam went on a rambling, half coherent rant about this master plan of his, which Ville periodically hummed in agreement to. In both of their minds, it sounded pretty foolproof. And there you were, fast asleep about five feet away from where this whole trap intended for you was unfolding.

☆彡

Months later, once the initial flames of desire died down, you kept in touch with Ville in the form of constant phone calls that seemed to stretch on for eternities. Even if he didnt go on and on about this romanticized, poetic vision he had of the two of you together in the future, you couldn’t help but find his voice so pleasant to listen to. It was hypnotic, the way he detailed something as mundane as how stunning the countryside in Finland was in the springtime, how plentiful and beautiful the wildflowers are there. “Of course, they couldn’t compare to your beauty, my dear.” Ville purred his words in a way that almost made you blush and giggle.

Based on the low chuckle he let out at your reaction, you were sure he picked up on it. “There is, however, something I’d like to discuss with you, Y/N.” His voice took on a conspiratorial tone that made you listen a bit closer. “I’ll be going on tour in a few weeks- and seeing as I’ll have a day off in Philadelphia, I was wondering if you would be interested in going out together?” Holy shit. You would be seeing him face to face- like, actually in person. “Oh- of course I’d be interested! That would be amazing!” A disbelieving grin spread across your face, your heart fluttering a little at the prospect, “I can’t wait.” Ville seemed content with your enthusiasm and the way this was trending, letting out a hum of satisfaction, “Neither can I, darling.”

★彡

Bam seemed pretty eager to get your ass out of the house the night before Ville was set to arrive in town. While you were perfectly content with spending the evening fucking around with him and the rest of the guys (because that’s you usually did on a Friday night), for some reason he couldn’t let that happen. “Y’know what? I’m really not feelin’ like going out tonight.” Excuses like this were uncharacteristic of Bam, but you suspended your dislebeleif as he got up from where the two of you were watching tv on the couch, grabbing something off the kitchen table, “It’s lady’s night at 15 North! I think you should go hang out with your girlfriends, have a few drinks, here-”

Turning around to where you had been following behind him, Bam shoved a handful of twenties into your hand and grinned, trying to sound nonchalant, “It's on me!” Part of you wanted to question why the hell he did this big three sixty from how cold he was acting towards you in Finland. But another part of you, a part with a little less shame, knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when said horse was buying you and your friends drinks. Considering your options for a moment, you nodded, “You know what? I will go out!”

☆彡

That whole thing with Ville just happening to have that time off in Philly wasn't nearly as coincidental as he made it out to be, but that wasn’t the only dishonesty here. Even though they were more than capable of discussing it over the phone, Bam urged him to stop by the castle so they would have the opportunity to ‘talk about it more’. Really, the whole thing was a ploy to keep Ville in one place with him and to show off the castle in one big effort to impress him. Though he was unaffected by his childish attempts to win his favor, Ville decided not to say anything on his thinly veiled intentions or tacky choices in interior design. Bam was giving him some pretty useful information, so it wouldn’t be wise to write him off just yet.

Bam had told Ryan and the other guys the same excuse he told you, which they questioned even less. Adding to this web of lies was the fact Ville got in town a day earlier than he told you he would. You decided to stop by Bam’s to pick something up that you left there the previous night before retiring to your place, so you would only discover this fact when you stumbled through the door around the early AM’s to a figure in the darkness of the living room, lounging on the couch with a glass of something dark that he sat down on a table as you walked in. It was silent as you peered around a corner, still pretty tipsy. The light from the entryway illuminated this person’s silhouette enough for you to see a sliver of a swirling tattoo peek out from under a sleeve- one you instantly recognized. “Ville…?”

☆彡

You should’ve known; who else would look that good in the dark? Of course, you had a lot of questions for Ville, but he gave you the rundown after you nearly pounced on him, “We arrived at a hotel around an hour ago, and while Midge and Linde- and the rest of the fellows were getting settled,” Ville ran his fingers through your hair idly while you pretty much sat on his lap, ”Bam rang me to ask if I would mind staying at his place for a night or two. Who am I to say no to that?” Gently taking your chin to tilt your head up, he pressed a kiss to your cheekbone, “All the more time I get to spend with you, my love.” A hummingbird couldn’t have caught Ville at work, the way he was playing you, and judging by the way you were blushing and melting onto his lap like warm butter, his charms were working their magic on you.

“Anyways,” Glancing down at you, he quickly brushed it off as if he wasn’t just thrilled by how flustered he could make you with such a simple gesture, “I was wondering if you’d care to go out for drinks sometime?” Well, Bam had asked him if he wanted to continue their conversation tomorrow night over a few beers at Rex’s, which gave him the idea to ask you. Close enough. “Oh, I’d love to!” You giggled, laying back against his chest.

★彡

There was pretty obvious confusion in Bam’s half awake gaze the next morning when he saw first you in the kitchen making yourself some toast, then Ville at the coffee maker. Why the hell were you here? Wait, did the two of you…? “Y/N?” He thought he was having some kind of weird dream- some nightmare, but nope, this was reality. “Oh, hey Bam!” Turning around, you took a bite from your toast, “What’s up?” If the smirk on your face wasn’t telling enough, the fact that the two of you were half dressed certainly was. “You stayed here last night?” You could practically see Bam’s train of thought on his face as he looked between you and him, “Ohhhh…” Ville quietly chuckled at his reaction, not seeming to notice the traces of jealousy in his gaze.

☆彡

You were completely oblivious to the fact that there were serious art museums in Pennsylvania until Ville took you to one. Well, you knew there probably were some out there, but the thought never really crossed your mind that people actually go to these places. But there the two of you were, strolling through the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The only sounds that echoed off the tall ceilings of the exhibit hall were the clacking of rubber soles on marble and the hushed whispers among people who actually had opinions on this kind of art.

Sure, you appreciated the stuff, but Ville understood the meaning in seemingly any kind of art that you couldn’t even begin to grasp. Stopping in his tracks, he turned to gaze at a painting that caught his eye: this Christophe Guérin piece titled L'Amour Désarmé. You looked at it as well, trying to gather any meaning from what appeared to be a pretty straightforward subject: a woman holding a bow and arrow away from Cupid, who was reaching to grab it. Standing there a moment next to you, Ville spoke up in a low murmur, “Even though I feel the Metamorphoses is a bit overdone, I’ve always found paintings depicting them impactful...” He didn’t even need to see you to visualize the confused look in your face from his words, so he explained. “See, the woman, Venus, is disarming her son, Cupid- but what she doesn’t know is that she’s already been pierced by his arrow.”

Well, you gathered some of that on your own. “So, now she’s going to fall in love with someone?” Eyes no longer fixed on the painting, he turned to you as you still admired the art, completely oblivious, “Yes. In the myth, it’s a mortal: Adonis. It’s symbolic of love as an uncontrollable force-“ In awe of the way he could just think so deeply about things, the double meaning of his words went completely over your head. “One that binds people together beyond what can be grappled with or comprehended by you or I…”

☆彡

You didn’t really mind that Bam tagged along with the two of you to the bar after Ville finished the show that night, but you were starting to get an inkling that he did. Honestly, at this point, you didn’t really care. Sure, you had known him for way longer than you knew Ville, but not in a million years could he hope to compare to him in your eyes- not now. It was like Bam was some child, constantly vying for attention, and it was starting to get on your nerves. Almost as much as that guy who had been flirting with you since Ville left to use the men's.

“Y’know, I saw you from across the bar over there …Can I buy you a drink?” Looking over to Bam for any hope of getting out of this situation, the only response you got from him was the cold shoulder as he glanced away, pretending not to know you. Asshole. Glancing away, now both angry at him and the guy, you replied flatly, “I’m with someone.” Still, he kept pressing, not getting the hint in the slightest, “I didn’t ask who you were with- I wanted to buy you a drink.”

The aggression in his voice would’ve put you on edge a little if it weren’t for Ville’s return with incredible timing, sliding between you and the creep. “Hope you weren't too lonely without me, love.” Having seen everything, he still paid the guy no mind, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your lips. Too preoccupied with your little victory, you didn’t notice that, barely out of your line of sight, this bitter look crossed Bam’s face as he took another swig of his drink.

★彡

Ville had to leave the next morning. You knew that when he showed up, he would have to leave- you would be an idiot for thinking this could end in any other way, but you didn’t want him to. There was no logic to how you felt, but yet again when did logic have anything to do with love? Bam wasn't awake, but even if he was he’d probably still be sulking in his room. He probably hated you now. But there you and Ville stood, in the living room at Castle Bam among all the dark velvet, the dim light of early day flooding in through the back window. “My heart aches for you, Y/N.” Delicate features bathed in cool blue, he took your hand in his and his words came to you, deliberate and earnest. “But you have a life to live. I have a tour to finish.” Your heart wept at his words. This whole situation with Ville- it was killing you. In three months, your life was turned upside down by a complete stranger, and you were helpless to do anything about it.

“No more of what’s keeping you here, and no more of what’s pulling me away from you. If not today then some day, my dear…You will be mine.” Lifting your hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to your knuckle. “Only mine.”

#ville valo #bam margera #him fanfiction #him fanfic #jackass #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #ville valo x reader

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

really know him

part i part ii part iii part iv

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3,686

warnings: swearing, reader has a shitty mom, a few uses of y/n, anxiety, fluff and angst

a/n: hi! listen, i know, i know, it’s been more than a month since i published part two and i’m sorry. but i promise it won’t take as long anymore. i hope you like this part! there’s a lot going on. it’s getting messy, my dudes. love you! <333

————

Your room is small. And you don’t mind that one bit. Hell, you’re lucky your parents snagged one of the few single-wide’s with a layout nice enough that there even are two bedrooms.

But sometimes the small space can seem confining, like right now.

You’ve been staring at college-ruled paper for what seems like forever now, and…you’ve got nothing. You spent all day brainstorming for this essay, and now that you’ve sat down, you’ve lost it all. It’s as if there isn’t a single coherent thought left in your brain.

You hop up from your seat, thinking that if you get a drink, maybe listen to some music, then you’ll be able to get a hold on your concentration.

And it works, for a while. You’ve been at your desk for well over an hour, and you’ve put a hell of a dent in your paper.

But having your headphones on means you don’t hear your parents come home, not until your mother is smacking her fist against your door frame to get your attention.

“Hello?”

You’re quick to push the pause button in on your walkman and put your headphones on the tabletop in front of you. The amount of eraser shavings you’ve accumulated is unsettling.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Your mother lets out what you're sure is the most dramatic sigh known to man. “Of course you didn’t, not with those things on your ears.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better about it, okay?”

She crosses her arms, leaning against the wall just inside your room. “Mhm. How’s your paper going?”

“It’s fine. Not due for a week.”

“So you’ve said. Anyways, I came in here because I was at the store yesterday, and Sherri caught up with me.”

“Oh, yeah? How is she?”

Sherri Henson is a bitch. She’s the kind of woman who peaked in high school and can’t seem to grasp that—even if she is well into her fifties by now—spending all her time corralling the neighborhood gossip. She’s lived a couple trailers down from you your whole life. And she’s yet another reason why you need to get the fuck out of dodge.

“Oh, she’s fine. She just wanted to tell me that she’s seen you hanging out with that Eddie Munson boy. And I haven’t heard good things about him. I just wanted to know what you were up to.”

Your stomach drops. Of course she’d say some shit like that. “We’re friends. I’m allowed to have those, aren’t I?”

“Yes. But don’t you think it would be wise to make good friends?”

You rub at your forehead, already sick of this. There’s a reason you don’t tell your mother anything about your life.

“You don’t know anything about him, do you?”

Your mother pushes her glasses up into her mess of hair. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t really understand how you can be judgmental of a guy you don’t even know. You’re always whining about how I don’t have friends, and now that I’ve made one, he’s not good enough?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I just don’t want you to harm your education by hanging around some good-for-nothing boy.”

“I think I can make my own decisions.”

“Clearly not. Look at you.” She doesn’t say anything more, but leaves the room instead.

You should be used to this. You should know that your mother doesn’t like that you aren’t a carbon copy of her. But it still stings. The feeling is drowning you; the feeling of being pathetic, unsuccessful, embarrassing.

You need a minute. It’s not like you can concentrate on your paper here anyways. Your mother has already shut herself up in her own bedroom, and you know she won’t miss you if you’re not around.

A lift of the blinds in your bedroom tells you that Eddie’s van is parked outside his trailer, but you don’t feel right just running over, so you call.

Of course he picks up.

He hasn’t even said his name yet and you’ve already started talking. “Eddie?”

“Hey, yeah, something wrong?”

You sound frazzled. If Eddie’s being totally straight with himself, he might even say you sound a little panicky. Claustrophobic, maybe.

He doesn’t like hearing you sound like this.

“Would it be okay if I came over for a bit? You can say no, I just…your company might help.”

You can feel that cocky ass grin from over the phone. The way your words register in his brain and he comes up with a response he knows will get you riled up.

“Oh, my company? That what you need?”

“Eddie,” he can practically see you waving him off, “nevermind.”

He laughs. “Okay, sorry. Yeah, you can come over. You didn’t have to ask. Could’ve just busted in.”

“That seems like a horrendous idea. And isn’t Wayne home?”

“Yeah, but he sleeps like the dead. He wouldn’t even notice. That’s what he gets for having me around after all this time.”

“Poor Wayne.”

He scoffs and stumbles over his words. “Poor Wayne?

“Yeah, I feel for him, having to put up with you all these years. Anyways, I’ll be there in a second.”

“You little shit–” he starts, but you’re already hanging up.

Eddie opens the door closest to his room to watch for you. You bound across the road and up the concrete step, clearly pleased with yourself. He backs up, that stupid ass grin on his face, and gestures with his arm for you to go inside.

He notices you’ve brought your bag with you. “Plotting my murder?” he inquires, eyes dancing over the corduroy.

“Absolutely. Any sort of preference?”

He sits down on his bed, back to the wall. “Maybe the candlestick? Rope could be fun. Or if you’re feeling particularly malicious: poison.”

“Remind me to never play Clue with you.”

He laughs and it’s low and drawn out like he knows he’s being annoying. Like he knows you enjoy it.

“Why, because you know I’ll kick your ass?”

You smile at him, and it feels like he’s won the lottery. “Precisely.”

“I’d go easy on you,” he argues.

“Bullshit.”

Eddie watches you fiddle with the zipper on your bag and then pull out a piece of paper. You flop down in his desk chair, making yourself at home. He’s told you to do that more than once, so he’s glad to see you act on it.

“What are we working on?”

“I’m supposed to be finishing a paper, and that’s what I was doing, but being berated doesn’t really help my focus.”

He chuckles, opening a bag of Skittles you didn’t even know he had. “I wouldn’t think so. You wanna talk about it?”

“No, that’s okay.”

Eddie nods, hoping you’ll open up to him sooner than later.

“Would you prefer if I just went about my business while you worked?”

“I really would, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Mhm. Anything you need, sweetheart.”

He hops up, and his fingers go to mess with the radio, but he stops himself short. “Will this bother you? If I keep it low?”

You shake your head, tapping your eraser on the desk. He gives you a frantic thumbs up before trying to make sure the music doesn’t murder your hearing.

It’s on some rock station, where some of the songs are ones you’re familiar with, others not so much.

“Good?” he asks, and you return his earlier thumbs up. It makes him grin.

He settles back on his mattress, though it groans in protest as he does. He scratches away at a notebook for a while, and the room stays quiet. Just being in the same room as him is enough to keep you calm and give you time to focus.

You make more progress on the paper now then you had at home, and start to think maybe you should do all your work in Eddie’s company.

Eventually Eddie gets bored and pushes up, his hands coming to rest against the desk on either side of you, caging you in. He kisses the top of your head before resting his chin on it, peering down at your paper.

“Damn. Almost done?”

“Yeah. Should probably quit and come back to it later anyway.”

“Wanna see something fun?” You look up at him and he’s got a wild look in his eyes, a wide smile on his face.

“I don’t know if I trust that.”

“Oh, come on. Take a break. For me?” Eddie bats his eyelashes and you smack him on the arm. He stands and stumbles backwards as if you’ve brutally wounded him, though the smile stays and really ruins the act.

“Fine. Let’s see.”

He’s got this brilliant, boyish look on his face. You can tell he’s excited. It’s the kind of excitement that rubs off on you, that makes you anxious to know what it’s for, even if it is something small.

He moves to the corner of his room and opens this big chest that you might not have even noticed because of how much surrounds it. You realize, though, that there’s a handful of Dungeons and Dragons handbooks, a binder covered in stickers, other things you don’t entirely understand.

Eddie digs around for a second, and then he pulls out a little velvet bag. He brandishes it to you, shaking it a little. Whatever’s inside makes noise.

“I got new dice. And I know what you’re thinking, ‘Eddie that’s so amazing, I can’t believe you’d share this with me,’ but believe it, because they’re cool, okay? Prepare yourself.”

You take a dramatically over exaggerated deep breath, gearing yourself up. “Ready, Eddie.”

He snorts. He can’t believe you.

He dumps them out next to you on his bed. “Ta-da!”

You pick one up, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t squeal. The dice are a translucent red color, with black numbers, and they’ve got little bats set into them.

Fucking bats.

You look up and Eddie’s big brown eyes are shining down at you. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, clearly trying to contain himself.

“Eddie, these are so cool!”

He throws himself on the bed beside you. “They’re sick, right?”

You pick up a handful, looking at all of the different ones as they roll around between your fingers. “Yeah. These are fucking cool, dude.”

Eddie giggles. He giggles. His glee is palpable.

“I’m honored that you wanted to share this with me, Mr. Munson.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, scooping them up and putting them back in the bag. “I don’t just go showing my dice to anyone, you know.”

You laugh, hard, and it’s the first time Eddie’s heard you laugh like that. He thinks he could live off of the sound. He wouldn’t need anything else.

“Well I’m glad you showed them to me.”

Eddie winks at you. “Me too.”

————

Eddie doesn’t hear from you for a few days, but it doesn’t worry him really. He knows you're busy with school, and he is too, now that he’s trying to get the hell out of there for real this time. He’s also working on a big ass campaign. He thinks this might be the one where Dustin’s character finally dies, the little fucker. He’s managed to kill off everyone else’s characters at least once (Gareth a few more), but never Dustin.

He does miss you, though.

Eddie is finding that he doesn’t like being without you as much as he likes being with you.

He’s starting to show you parts of himself that he hasn’t shown other people before. He usually doesn’t have the ability to sit quietly in a room with someone else. Or watch for fucking bats. Hell, he built a fort for you.

And he’s laying in bed, well past the time he should be asleep, thinking about how he doesn’t feel like you’re letting him get to know you like he is you.

Eddie’s room is dark except for the light coming in through the window. He goes to rest his hand on his chest, but cold metal meets his bare skin and he’s quick to unsnap the bracelet he left on his wrist.

He knows what you’re in school for. He knows you’re into bats. That you laugh at stupid, immature shit just like he does. Shit you’d get in trouble for laughing at.

But if what he’s feeling, deep down, is what he thinks it is, he wants to give all of himself to you. And he wants all of you.

He really does.

And something about the way you held him that night that you stayed over told him you felt more. He can see you letting go sometimes. But more often it feels reluctant.

Eddie just wants you to know that he’s not going anywhere. That he wants you safe. Happy.

He wants you for you.

Not for whatever else anyone tells you.

You are everything he’s ever wanted.

You.

————

“How’d you do on your paper?” Eddie asks. You’d told him when it was due, and just now that you’d gotten it back.

“Fine.”

“Fine? That’s all I get?”

Something’s wrong with you today. He’d invited you over for lunch, and you’d come, but the smile you gave him at the door wasn’t genuine. Something is hurting you, and you haven’t told him what.

And it’s killing him.

He can’t help you if you won’t let him.

You set down your drink, a little harder than you’d meant to, and sigh.

Fuck, Eddie thinks. The last thing he wants to do is frustrate you.

“I got a B.”

His eyebrows raise over the enormous bite of sandwich he’s just taken. He decides to behave and chew it all before he speaks. Wayne might not get the same treatment.

“Oh yeah? That’s so good! I’m proud of you.”

You nod your head, but you don’t look at him. If he’s being honest, it kind of hurts his feelings.

“You might be the only one,” you mumble.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s…it’s nothing, Eddie. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He grabs the bag of chips out of your hand before you can shove your mouth full of them, and you look incredibly offended.

“Don’t do that. Tell me what you meant.” Eddie’s voice is serious. He’s never spoken to you like this before.

You run your hands over your face. “My mom. She told me I could’ve done better than that.” You don’t say that she also said it was probably a result of spending so much time with Eddie.

Eddie sets your bag of chips back down. “That’s bullshit. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“You’re a total badass, and I know you’re hard working as shit. If she can’t see that, then fuck her man.”

You won’t look at him.

“You can’t listen to that shit, man. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this, Eddie.” He cocks his head at you, brown eyes boring into yours. “And it’s not exactly easy, just ignoring it. I’ve heard it for years, that I could be trying harder or doing something differently or anything, so it’s like fuckin’ ingrained in my brain. And sometimes I think it’s true.”

Eddie reaches across the table for your hand, his laying palm-up, waiting for you to accept it. You limply supply your hand to him, and he pushes his thumb into the center, rubbing in slow circles. He’s hoping the contact might be enough to pull you out of your head some.

“Look at me,” Eddie says.

You're quick to think about the night he found you moping on the bench. He’d said that then too.

“Look at me.”

You shake your head again.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to make fun of you,” he says, and you believe him, though really looking at him and his big brown eyes is enough to wash a surge of sadness over you.

Eddie uses his thumb to wipe the fresh tears from under your lashes, grazing the tip of your now stuffy nose with his knuckle. You wrinkle it and he grins.

Eddie’s thinking about it too. How upset you’d looked. How upset you look now. But he also remembers something else.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Not really, no.”

You hadn’t wanted to talk about your feelings then, and that was understandable because you hadn’t seen the guy in forever. But it’s different now. Isn’t it? Eddie feels differently for you. And he can see that you care about him, obviously, but what if he’s reading this wrong? What if you don’t want him as anything other than a friend?

This time though, you do look up at him. “It’s not true. I know your brain is telling you that, and maybe you even hear your parents saying that shit, and if your mind works anything like mine does–and I think it does–then I know it’s so fucking annoying, and you can’t do anything without hearing some negative response.”

“But it isn’t true. You work your ass off, and you’re kind and caring, and I’m sorry, but I can’t have you thinking otherwise, you hear me?”

You nod your head, and Eddie’s quick to swipe up the tear he sees fall, before you even know you’re crying.

He gets up, coming over to where you're sitting and crouching in front of you. He puts his hands on your knees, but you push them off and stand, forcing him to follow so that he doesn’t bust his ass.

You wipe your face off, drag your hands across your jeans, the feeling of Eddie’s hand on yours still burning through your nerves.

“Eddie, I think I’m gonna go home.”

Something about this, about the tone in your voice, how resigned you sound, makes Eddie frustrated.

He doesn’t move from his place in front of you. He can’t just let this go. He isn’t wired that way.

“So this is how it’s gonna go, huh?”

You blink at him. “What are you talking about?”

He puts his hands on his hips, and he knows he looks like Wayne, he knows it, but he can’t find it in himself to care right now.

“You come over, you’re upset, but you won’t talk to me about it, and when you do start to talk about it, you give me vague answers and you shrug it off. That’s not talking, Y/N.”

“This is hard for me, Eddie! I don’t know what to do with myself when someone wants to listen to me, okay?”

“I understand that, but you’ve gotta at least try.”

“Try what?”

“Letting me in, for fucks sake! I can’t fucking help you, if you won’t let me in!”

Eddie sounds exasperated. And now you’re both shouting at each other. Shouting.

“Eddie, I–”

“Listen, just give me a second. You wouldn’t talk about what happened that night you stayed over except vaguely–and that’s okay with me–but then you wouldn't talk to me the other day, either. And now you’re just…I feel like you’re shutting me out.”

“I want to help you, and I know it takes time to open up, but I know that you know you’re safe with me. And I want to help make it better. I want you, Y/N, and I just–why won’t you let me in?”

It feels like your heart has stopped. Like he’s messing with you. But you know better than that. And you should’ve known that was coming at some point.

“Eddie, don’t say that.”

“Say what?” He wants to hear the words leave your mouth.

You mess with your fingers, and he grabs your hands to get you to quit. “That you want me, Eddie. You can’t just say that.”

“And why can’t I, huh? Because it involves feelings? Y’know those things that you won’t share with me?”

You step a little ways back from him, but you’re still cornered. He knows that stung, but if he hadn’t said it now, he might never have at all.

“Eddie, you can’t actually want me. You’ve said it yourself, I’m incapable of being open and not fucking things up! Look at what we’re doing!”

“And what if I do want you? What then?”

“Then I don’t know!” you yell, louder than you’d intended.

Eddie moves away from you then, sitting back down, and crossing his arms. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you, despite the fact that you’re arguing.

“I never said you were fucking things up. And I didn’t say you were incapable of being open,” he breathes. “That’s all I want, for you to be open with me. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me, like you have to let that shit eat you alive.”

“But aren’t I? Fucking it up? Eddie, you’re the only friend I’ve got and you’re being honest with me and all I’ve done is fuss at you. That’s like, the definition of fucking things up.”

“You’re not. I just want you to let me in.”

You’re both quiet for a minute. You walk around the trailer, cleaning up your lunch and grabbing your things. It’s mindless, and you’re not even sure you want to go home.

“I meant what I said,” Eddie starts. “I do want you. And I mean as more than just a friend. I’m—” I’m falling in love with you. But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say that he wishes he’d said so sooner. That he’d told you in high school. None of that matters now. He wants you, and he thinks he always will.

“I would never lie to you about that,” he says.

You take a shaky breath. “I know that you wouldn’t, Eddie. I just…I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me. You do know.”

“I think maybe you should want someone who’s not so much trouble.”

And Eddie can’t say anything, because you’ve already turned and rushed down the stairs, the door slamming shut behind you.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @ajkamins @golddustwitches @copycatkillerfics @prestinalove @zaypay @clovermunson @kelsiegrin @storiesbyrhi @avalon-wolf

#savannah’s fics #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson series

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rinnelovebot · 1 year

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A/N: I KNOW THE BANNER LOOKS FUCKED UP but it’s bc I don’t have access to the full cg yet.. anyway I had to get it out of my system. I’m so fucking in love with him

*ೃ༄ dressing room angel

“I quite like it; it suits me, I think.”

You’d been staring at Hiiro’s new personalized outfit within one of the various ES dressing rooms for at least an hour now — fiddling with the beads adorning his neck, the earrings that complimented his eyes almost devilishly well — just about everything, and you still wouldn’t say you were even close to being done yet. Hiiro wore a relaxed grin on his face, as if proud, but still waiting on your fully fleshed out input.

“It does,” you added, “It really, really does. It’s different from your first personalized outfit, but that’s the best part.”

The redheads grin grew wider at your words, sighing contently as one of your hands wandered up from his chest to his cheek, stroking soft skin with a gentle palm. “Ah, I’m happy to hear that… Anzu-san did an amazing job encapsulating my ideas, better than I ever could’ve.”

She did do an amazing job. You’d say that Hiiro’s always been a handsome young man, but this outfit in particular accentuated all of his finest qualities and amplified them to the point where you didn’t think you’d be able to look him in the eye for longer than five seconds without melting into a pathetic pile of goop.

Knowing that your initial inspection had passed, he stepped forward, allowing his hands to rest on your hips. Perhaps reflexively, yours wrapped around his shoulders in turn; In attempts to avoid growing too flustered at the closeness — and the overall sight of him — you filled the silence. “What do your friends think? Your brother?”

Hiiro chuckled under his breath. “Well, Mayoi-senpai and Aira reacted with a series of excited squeals, which I’d hope to be positive.” The way his lips grew closer wasn’t lost on you. “Tatsumi-senpai and Nii-san had more coherent things to say, though. I was relieved to hear that they liked it as much as I do.”

Yeah, that sounded accurate enough. You had no doubts that his colleagues would be just as insane about this as you had been. “Ah, also, the garters were Aira’s idea. He thought they’d bring an ‘air of hotness’ to my otherwise ‘handsome and pure’ image.” The amused lilt in his voice suggested that he noticed your affliction, but he didn’t want to tease you about it. He’d always been too kind for that.

You’d have to thank his little blonde peer later. “I see…” you whispered, feeling his breath upon your lips as the two of you gently swayed, gazing at one another intently.

The vast blue ocean of his eyes always seemed to draw you in, almost hypnotically so — no matter how great your efforts to avoid them. No one could ever look at you as fondly as Hiiro.

“Did it work?”

And just as he dipped down to finally give you what you wanted, you offered him a response. “You know it did.”

#marchie scribbles #esworks #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #hiiro amagi #hiiro amagi x reader

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saphira-approves · 11 months

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Okay so I finished Murtagh last night and I think I’m just going to put a lot of my slightly more coherent general thoughts here under a readmore. Spoilers ahead! Beware!

Right off the bat I want to bring us back to The Fork, The Witch, and The Worm. Not to Essie (although reliving that encounter from Murtagh’s perspective was EXQUISITE), but to Eragon, because the thing I love most about that story is that Eragon is glad to see his brother, even from afar, and is glad to see he’s alright, and hopes that Murtagh will one day join him at Mt. Arngor. We’ve talked recently on the blog about ill feelings and condemnation towards Murtagh during the war, especially on Eragon’s part, but the ending of The Fork makes it clear that—while I would love to see Eragon acknowledge and work through them—Eragon no longer holds those feelings, and in fact really wants the chance to reconnect with his brother and his friend, because he loved him like a brother before he even knew they were related, and after everything that’s happened, he loves him still—even if Murtagh is going to have some trouble believing or internalizing it.

And so I present the theme of this initial reading response: Murtagh is so, so loved, to an extent that he does not fully realize. He knows that Thorn loves him, obviously, but I believe it’s significant that—even though he has some Complicated™️ thoughts about Selena and harbors resentment towards her for, in his mind, choosing Eragon over himself—the memories of her that we actually get to see/“hear” (page 90 my beloved) are fully memories of Selena’s love for him. “…beautiful boy” anyone? “My strong boy?” That is her BABY and she LOVES HIM. Also, again, DESPITE HIS RESENTMENT, Selena’s love is the REASON HE KEEPS HIS SCAR! Scar lore alert! Scar lore alert! SELENA WAS THERE AND SHE’S THE ONE WHO HEALED HIM! (though I am still partial to thinking Brom was involved. I’ll write about that later it doesn’t matter right now)

(Also, on a bit of a lighter note, HIS HORSE TOY?????? Horse girl Murtagh CONFIRMED!!!! Little me would have been so jealous. …on a completely different note, I have woodworking connections and access to real horse hair. Hm. The Ideas.)

And then Tornac, son of Tereth, may your name live on forever. THE FIRST MEMORY WE GET OF TORNAC IS A HUG. THE FIRST TIME HE HUGS MURTAGH. MURTAGH HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH DO YOU KNOW??? I KNOW YOU KNOW A LITTLE BIT BUT DO YOU KNOW????? And the way he LEAPS to Murtagh’s defense when he falls in their escape, he REFUSES to let Murtagh languish in Urû’baen, that’s his BOY, his BEAUTIFUL STRONG BOY, that’s HIS SON, NO TAKE BACKSIES, MORZAN! He sees Murtagh’s darkness, yes, but more importantly he sees Murtagh’s goodness, and he knows Galbatorix will do everything in his power to destroy it, and that is something that Tornac simply cannot abide. You remember how I posted about Brom saying it’s easy to die for what you believe in, and then like ten pages later he dies for Eragon? Yeah. Yeah that one. That post. Do you see the point I’m making?

Tornac died for Murtagh. Selena did too, I’m pretty sure—it’s never been explicitly stated, in this book or the rest of the Cycle, but we know Selena was anxious to leave Carvahall as soon as Eragon was born, and that she died shortly after returning to Murtagh. I think Murtagh knows, on some level, but I also think that actually acknowledging it is going to break him just a little bit. Selena left Eragon and returned to him, presumably to spirit Murtagh to Carvahall as well, but she left too early. She wasn’t recovered. The real tragedy of this is that, if she’d left any later, she might truly have been too late—Morzan had been killed, and Murtagh would have been collected to Urû’baen before she reached him. Depending on how much she was coordinating with Brom, she might have known this, and made the choice to return to Murtagh anyway, because it was the easiest choice in the world. Eragon and Murtagh both believe that Selena left them. As Murtagh believes Selena chose Eragon over him, I’m pretty sure Eragon believes the inverse. In truth, Selena was trying to choose both of them, to save both of them. It’s a tragedy that she failed, but the most important thing about such a tragedy is that the love is there. It didn’t save them, not at first, not until much later, but the love is there and it matters because those are her babies, those are her sons, and she would gladly die for them. She did die for them. It was easy; she believed in them.

So yeah, I think eventually Eragon and Murtagh are gonna have a talk, and some revelations are going to be made, and a good long cry is going to be had all around. Catharsis! They need it!

But that’s not all! Murtagh is loved not only by the dead and the distant, but by the living and the near, too. Up to this point, the werecats we’ve met have been aloof, proud, intentionally distant. I always got the sense that Solembum likes Eragon and Saphira, but I don’t know that he would call them friends, even if Eragon and Saphira would, and he’s the most in-depth werecat we’ve met. But now we also have Carabel.

Carabel, who, from her position within Gil'ead, watches the people around them, and discerns their character: this is a skill I would say she has honed to near-perfection. When we meet her, she is desperate, though she hides it well. She sees Murtagh, and she measures his character, and what she sees is enough to make her take a chance on him, and she's right. Murtagh saves Silna, compromising his own principles to do so—swearing an oath he knows he'll have to break—and is so clearly relieved to see Silna safe with Carabel, despite the deceptions. We know, also, that Selena had been liked enough by Solembum for him to speak with her, and I wouldn't be surprised to discover that Selena was at least respected by werecats, if not outright known as a friend; it's possible that this, too, helped push Carabel to take a chance on Murtagh, though she makes no comment about it. Whatever the case, ultimately it is Murtagh's character that she gambles on, and Murtagh being simply who he is fulfills her hopes—not only in saving Silna, but his kindness towards her even when she was difficult, carrying her only when it was necessary and setting her on her own paws when he deemed it safe. Just in being himself, he earns love from two strangers, and the respect of an entire race.

(This echoes throughout the book, in all of Murtagh's interactions with children—he cares so much about kids. Not just as an abstract moral stance: he truly, genuinely cares for children on a deeply personal level. Essie in Ceunon; the two boys in Gil'ead he gives coins to, twice, and reprimanding their father for using them to pick marks; Silna; the children in Nal Gorgoth. In telling his story to Nasuada, he broke when he reached the children he slaughtered under Bachel's control.)

And Alín! Alín, who was raised to revere dragons, who cannot help but idolize Thorn. She is terrified of Murtagh, as a stranger and a strange man, but his connection to a dragon allows her to view him in another light. I can write so many essays about Alín, I'm probably going to, but here I'll just say this: despite her circumstances, despite how she was taught, despite how thoroughly she has been programmed by the cult of the Dreamers, the simple truth of Murtagh's compassion gave her the room to question, to think for herself, to ask herself if what she has been taught and raised to believe is truly right. Murtagh doesn't make the decision for her, he physically can't—it is Alín herself who finds the strength to break herself free, inspired by Murtagh, but not wholly because of him.

And in the dungeons of Nal Gorgoth, Murtagh meets Uvek, an Urgal shaman, and can I just say: I would kill and die for Uvek. He's got similarities to Murtagh that aren't discussed in plaintext, but are easy to draw: they both tried to be alone in the wild, thinking it would be better for them—different reasons, but they came to the same conclusion—but both have come to discover that they are better off in a pack. With friends. With brothers. With family. (As an aside, I really hope Uvek becomes one of the first Urgal riders.) I love the metaphor they share, about trust being a knife with a blade for a handle; and I love that once they decide to trust each other, they both jump in, feet first, 100% on board. That's always been Murtagh's method anyway (Eragon-era Murtagh my beloved, looking after this stupid dumb kid with his whole ass), and it is incredibly refreshing to see someone else with the exact same mindset throw their whole lot in with Murtagh. The gentle forehead bump! Uvek loves this crazy squishy Murtagh-man.

And finally, finally, Nasuada. The Guinevere to his Lancelot, and there's not even an Arthur for them to dance around, except for the Arthur of Public Opinion that would prefer to view Murtagh as dread Mordred. I couldn't keep from laughing, just a little bit, every time Murtagh was encouraged to/shown visions of taking the throne, because lol! Nah, you dumbasses, that's the love of his life for whom he broke his own shackles and turned on his tormentor and slave-master. The day he turns against her of his own volition is the day he is No Longer Murtagh. He keeps the newly-minted gold crown so that he can keep a piece of her with him—a coin!! A tiny little portrait!! An accurate tiny little portrait, to be sure, but one he'll soon be able to find in any decently full purse!! He may not want to admit it to himself, he may try to distance himself for her own good and the good of her rule, but he cannot truly deny his heart. As for Nasuada himself, she doesn't even hesitate to take him in—and she would have no reason to, having heard about Gil'ead, except that she knows him, she has seen his true being in a way only Thorn can relate to, and even in uncertainty she cannot believe evil of him. She's the one who reaches out to comfort him when he crumbles in telling his story, she supports him without a word when he struggles to stand, and she wants so badly for him to stay, Public Opinion be damned. She won't destroy what she's built, but she will move heaven and earth to be able to keep him near, for as long as he wishes to remain.

This whole book, really, was just a chorus screaming to Murtagh, "YOU ARE LOVED!! YOU ARE WORTHY OF LOVE AND YOU ARE LOVED!! IT IS THE LOVE THAT ENDS WARS, THAT DEFEATS FEAR, THAT PERSISTS IN THE FACE OF DEATH AND RUIN!! YOU ARE LOVED!!" And maybe he can't hear it yet, not with his ears, but his heart, eventually, might start to catch him up. And I absolutely cannot wait to see it.

#murtagh spoilers #one (1) aspect of my Many Many Thoughts on this wonderful beautiful brick of a book #anyway. i'm so glad we got to see murtagh be a dumbass. there were some eragon levels of dumbassery here.#'i don't have anger issues' sir yes you DO they're just not as bad as your father's #'i don't have anger issues' *proceeds to make decisions driven by righteous anger*#also HIGH KEY accidentally skipped a couple lines in lyreth's introduction and thought they were exes. whoops.#i mean they still could be. i might write that. we love a shitty ex in this series.#anyway this is far from all of my thoughts. i have so much to say about Alín. so much to say about thorn and his claustrophobia.#SO much to say about murtagh's thoughts on command and responsibility #i'm going to be here A Lot in the coming weeks #yeah i’ll do my nanowrimo goal today but first TWO THOUSAND WORDS ABOUT MURTAGH

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j2zara · 1 month

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*tapping on your window* Hi I’m sitting in my car exhausted and about to drive home but I just wanted to let you know Ellie is. In my thoughts. This is a threat. And by that I mean. I am thinking so much about her and what it means to desperately want freedom and fear that if you get it you won’t know what to do next. The goal has been to fight until you die and you didn’t realize it until you got the chance to Live. It’s not that I don’t think she can’t be gentle bc she can be. She does her best to take care of Bluejay she’s kind to J3. It’s that I think when she’s. On her Own. And there’s no one to look after except for herself. And she’s forced to look inwards. She’s terrified there’s nothing there except the parts she desperately fights against becoming. Did she ever actually train her kindness for herself or does it always have to be given to someone else. Did she accidentally train herself for a purpose after all.

Anyways yeah so she’s in my thoughts and will be during my drive home that’s all hope you’re having a good night 💖

HIIII sorry it took me a sec to form coherent sentences and not to lump this in with your tags on my "Ellie was so afraid of becoming Jace she forgot to account for becoming ankarna" post but i also know (think?) that this was sent like RIGHT after that lol.

You've kinda articulated something i didn't really think about which is such a good point in that like. I think despite trying to push for personal autonomy and choice, ellie has sharpened herself into becoming very.... specific, due to her circumstances. She wants the freedom to be small and unextraordinary and messy but she can't afford that, i think she still has to be a tool of war in order to fight at all. idk if that makes any sense. She can't back out of her path—robbed of choice when choice is all she wanted, right? She needs power in order to get anything done and she doesn't particularly want it but it feels good when you have it right? At the very least when you have it nobody else can make you feel small. Maybe that's the Ankarna impulse. To learn about war to save yourself from doom even if it contorts you into something ugly and alienated from who you used to be.

But. What even are Ellie's impulses when the fight is gone. Who is she underneath that. Like. Yeah you're right in that its like the goal is survival for so long that its like who is she when she gets a chance to just LIVE? If you define yourself against something, is that really free will, is that really freedom from the determined path? Is it freedom to be an antithesis to a thesis when you're still defined in opposition to the thesis? Is it fair to have an identity defined by hardship and struggle and opposition, would that make happiness something unfamiliar, not yours? Is it fair to anyone that if you were to get better that would make you stop being you? Like. Something something gilear—there was something about the failure i could take in stride because within it i had some sense of identity or self. Except not a bit. You know what I mean? Or is it all change. Is it unfair even on my part that she had to be defined by like. Misery and the will to fight.

(And i think i do that b/c i like that she's unpalatable, i'm always so so so resistant to impulses to characterize her as secretly soft and maternal and nurturing. But is that fair to keep her all hard edges because maybe she deserves better)

She deserves. so much. She deserves a shitty, unfurnished apartment with a small portable fan and a mattress that's still the floor b/c she still hasn't gotten a bedframe. Maybe a lawn chair and an old tv. She has to start somewhere.

I don't know where the thought of the Ankarna-Ellie stuff came from—i think from working on LJ3Porter, i felt like. I think the reason why Ellie tries to put on a show about caring about other people is b/c she's scared that her real impulses are actually selfish. Power-hungry. Afraid that her objections are not because they've all been wronged, but that she's personally been denied something. That she's not just porter-coded, but she wants to transcend porter. Be even more powerful and frightening than him. Be the thing that He covets (even if he never really saw Ankarna). Jace wants to be at Porters side as equals, J2 wants to be beneath them, and J4 wants to be above even Porter. And. She does care about others its not just an act! But I think she's just. A lot like fig. But Fig's preoccupation is about being afraid of being so so so ontologically evil b/c she's infernal. But yeah. Dedicating themselves to others b/c they're afraid of interrogating themselves, asking themselves who they really are underneath it all.

#jan.ask #clone enjoyers anonymous

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drdemonprince · 1 year

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Heyyyy. I just had an unsettling thought. So I’ve been learning about the oxygen of amplification and thinking about whether I’ve been giving “free food” to bigots by paying too much attention to the wrong things.

You’ve written about being “a vault” being a benefit especially when it comes to health care, and lying to employers, and, basically, intentionally using masking to get ahead.

Over the past five or so years, I have tended to go in a different direction - being more vocal about my disabilities and the disabilities of others, in the hope that I’m being an advocate for awareness and acceptance. I’ve had a lot of people tell me I’m “brave” for behaving that way and it always confuses me, because it’s easier for me to be honest than it is for me to lie or hide the truth.

But I am reminded of being on a conference call with the California board of law examiners (the people who make the bar exam for California) at the start of the pandemic. I spoke on the call about how law school makes people (if I remember correctly) as much as three times more likely to be depressed between the time they enter and the time they leave. There’s additional context here that I could add but I’m not sure if it’s necessary.

Anyway, while I was speaking, one of the people on the board (at least, my colleagues and I were pretty sure it was) very loudly yelled at me to “FUCK OFF.”

I wonder if disabilities are something, unlike other categories of oppressed people, where the more evidence you provide that we are human and deserving of accommodations, the more bigots get pissed off and want to deny us those accommodations. Because they think our disability inherently makes us undeserving.

I think, because I’m in a position of privilege economically (and my family culture isn’t particularly tumultuous), I get into this moral headspace where I think, okay, maybe others have to lie to get ahead. But if, because of my unique set of circumstances, I don’t have to lie to get head, isn’t it my duty not to?

I actually think I wrote a paper about that in law school. Maybe I’ll try to dig that up and we what I had to say.

But now I’m wondering if I’m just making things worse by being so vocally honest. Giving ammo to judgmental people who will hold what I say against people who are not as fortunate as I am.

You’ve also spoken about how you’ve become less of an advocate and I wonder if this sort of thing factors in to that decision.

Yeah for me, it's about developing a greater sense of tactics.

Most people are not persuaded by data or objective information. Most people do not have coherent or consistent political ideologies, either (see Phillip Converse's groundbreaking work on nonattitudes -- most people, when asked about a political topic, will just make up an opinion on the spot based on what they've heard most recently, and that opinion will not remain consistent). There's a robust research literature attesting to this. I abandoned the field of political psychology because the research on fostering attitude change and open-mindedness is so dismal.

Instead, what most people find the most compelling is a combination of emotional appeals, social pressure, and their own material, economic self-interest.

What this means is that a great many people will not be moved by additional information on a topic, until it becomes economically costly or socially perilous for them not to rethink it, and even then, they might just dig in their heels if they've already incurred losses in order to justify the pain they've been in. It also means that if someone has an ignorant perspective and no desire to change it, well, you talking more isn't going to change their perspective, but they will try to shut you up so that it doesn't change anybody else's.

The liberal perspective on change is a highly individualistic one. Disabled people are supposed to share our stories, victims of sexual assault are supposed to name our abusers, fat people are supposed to just feel more positively about themselves, Black and brown people are supposed to spell out to us white people exactly what we should do to guarantee their liberation, but only in a very gentle tone, and everybody, everywhere, is on the hook for fixing the injustice of their own social position.

This is a perspective on change that employers, governments, and institutions benefit from us believing in, because it keeps us busy showing off our vulnerabilities and behaving as individuals, rather than pooling our power and demanding something better for all of us collectively.

And this individualistic approach is of course is never how change actually happens. The federal government didn't suddenly start unrestricting access to AIDS meds because some individual gays came forward and told very persuasive stories about their battles with the disease. ACT UP activists crowded federal offices and covered politicians' homes in giant condoms and marched AIDS victims' corpses down the street.

Sickle cell anemia did not become a subject of medical research because Black patients individually shared their stories of the disease. The Black Panthers created their own health clinics to test for the disease and educate the public about it, and they also gave out free childcare and food, and the federal government found this so threatening they began taking sickle cell seriously themselves so that more people wouldn't go running to a communist, anti-racist group.

The ADA didn't pass because disabled people made ourselves vulnerable, it passed because we made ourselves strong, clawing our way together up the statehouse steps and blocking traffic with wheelchairs during rush hour.

We've been propagandized by capitalist individualism and representation politics to believe the most empowering thing a marginalized person can do is stand solidly as a single person. But it's not true. In fact, some of the steps we take to broadcast our marginal status and tell our stories makes us more vulnerable in the end.

Many companies now encourage their disabled employees to come out and be proud of their status, for instance. I've given workshops at companies like that. At every single one, I've later heard from Autistic and ADHDer employees that the second they actually identified themselves publicly, it became a target on their back. They were scrutinized, denied accommodations, pushed out of the office, threatened with their boss calling 911 on them, forced to quit.

The real way to make a change happen is through organized, collective power, not through personal vulnerability, individual pride or sharing every last drop of energy that we have educating people who have a vested interest in not understanding our concerns. Winning the hearts and minds of the ones in control is not the answer. We must organize to take control.

I've done all kinds of activism all my life since I was fourteen years old, from phone banking to voter registration drives to jail support to writing my congress people and more, and much of it was a waste of my time. It was designed to waste my time, to convince me that by being a good little boy and playing within the system I would be freed, when really I needed to be joining forces with other people to dismantle it. That's the way forward, that's truly what I believe now.

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eddiemunson-reader-shame · 1 month

Text

A Freak and a Basket Case: Eddie Munson x Hispanic!Fem!Reader

Chapter 4: Paranoid

Ooooh baby, this was a doozy that turned into a semi rant at the end… hold on tight lads, the mental illness is really coming in bad tonite.

Trigger warnings: MINORS DNI, homophobic comments (not from Eddie or reader, don’t worry), jealousy issues, insecurity, codependent attachment, trust issues, anxiety, implied/referenced drug use, brief mentions of intimate acts

[Masterlist] - [Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

***

“Mira, look who it is! The Queen of the Nerds!”

Fuck…! Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

You were trying to be subtle, to come in without a trace. Busting a mission to make it into the house without your family smelling you or seeing your tiny eyes. You didn’t want to deal with anyone’s bullshit tonight either. Too many overwhelming feelings and intrusive thoughts were scrambling all coherence out of your already zooted out mind. And yet fate was against you from the get go. Scruffy and Tiffany blew your cover the moment they heard the key turn in the lock of the doorknob. The dogs both came barking down the hallway to the door, and of course if the dogs were back inside and not in the dog run at four PM on a Tuesday, that meant only one thing:

Your brother Jamie hadn’t yet left for his shift working security at the Hawkins Water Utility Building…

“Shut up, huevon.” You snapped quickly. “Don’t you got work?”

“I do, smartass. I got an hour before my shift starts.”

Your brother, Jaime Luiz, anglicized for the people of Hawkins as “James” (and thence forth Jamie), was seated on your ratty mustard yellow couch in the living room. You could smell the clove cigarettes he’d been chain smoking, and you hoped the stench would drown out the smell of the pot on you. He turned away from the television to look up at you, evidently your homecoming held a little more interest than Tina Turner currently did on MTV.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked.

“School.” You immediately replied, looking away from him.

You booked it past him and heard your brother sniff.

FUCK!

You quickly made your way to your bedroom and shut the door, intending to shower off the smell of Eddie’s deodorant and the reefer before Jamie had any further suspicions. You took off your Carhartt jacket and tossed it in an inconspicuous corner of the room with your backpack, narrowly missing your milk crate of vinyls in the process. After smoothing out your hair and unlacing your chucks clumsily, you were just about to go into your connected bathroom to turn on the hot water when you heard a knock and then the creak of your door opening.

“So how was school?”

As usual. No boundaries in your own fucking house. The white kids got a polite knock and gave permission for anyone to enter. In your Hispanic house, knocking was a courtesy that only your brother adhered to, albeit briefly before he eventually just decided to walk in because he felt like he owned the place as the “man” of the house.

“Shit.” You said honestly, not looking at him. “Pure shit. Tired of dealing with people.”

“Yeah? What’re they saying?”

Jamie sat down on your bedspread, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you gather your pajamas. It was the same bullshit you always wore: a black shirt with fading patches of gray that used to be purple before you got a hold of it, and bright pink dolphin shorts.

“The usual. You know how the gringos are.” You said.

“You gotta be careful when you’re dealing with that shit.” Jamie said immediately. “You know how it is; they don’t like us here, but if you keep it cool you can coast on by. Just keep it straight and don’t make waves, esa.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping it could change though.” You said.

“I got a strong feeling that it won’t…” Jamie sighed. “Anyways, that’s not why I’m here. Whose cologne you wearing?”

“Excuse me?!”

“What? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he sniffed. “You smell like Old Spice, and mota. And you’re walking around all tirado.”

“Who the hell has you smelling me, you cochino!” You said, avoiding turning around so he wouldn’t see your red rimmed eyes.

“Ay, don’t get mad at me! You’re the one all coming home smelling like a skunk’s ass. A la ve, your eyes are redder than the devil’s pecker too!”

Jamie was so close to your face you could have slapped the grin right off of his. He had his hands on your shoulders, shaking them slightly as he tried to get you to turn around. You covered your burning cheeks.

“Get the fuck away from me, bro!” you couldn’t help the nervous pot giggles. Too high to even try and deny it.

“Come on, vieja. Whose cologne are you wearing?” He laughed.

“Oh my god…” You sighed, “If I tell you, will you leave me the fuck alone?!”

“Yes, I’ll stop bothering you.”

“… I kinda, maybe, just a little bit… might have a boyfriend now.”

“Enserio?” Jamie’s face dropped, his mouth hanging open as he searched your face for the ‘gotcha’ moment that would never come, “This isn’t like a prank, is it?”

“Nah uh, serio bro.” You laughed.

It was so worth it seeing Jamie’s smug demeanor drop into one of pure shock, almost awe.

“Oowee, and who’s the poor torcido you managed to convince?” Jamie asked.

“Not anyone you know, entrementido!” You yelled, “Jesus, you’re all fucking nosey!”

Jamie dodged the sock you threw weakly at him, laughing at your poor aim and at the way you teetered unsteadily on your feet.

“Calmase, mami! A la… Just trying to look out for you.” He laughed, “So… what… is he like a big nerd like you or what?”

How could you even deny it at this point? Eddie could pull more fantasy facts out of his ass high than you ever could sober.

“Yeah… Yeah he is. He’s into fantasy.” You replied.

“Of course he is… What’s the nerd’s name?”

“Eddie. His Name is Eddie.”

Jamie frowned slightly.

“Eddie? He’s a little gringito or what?” Jamie asked.

“Yeah. He likes Dungeons and Dragons, and the Lord of the Rings, and Dune, and music…”

“Ay dios… So my sister’s gonna turn into a nerdy pothead…”

“That’s rich coming from my marihuano ass brother!” You shot back.

“Hey, I don’t smoke pot that often!” He cried.

He wouldn’t ever admit it. Never owning up to his own mistakes like a man. Your brother could strut his shit around everyone like he was a king, but admitting his own shortcomings was not his strong suit. But that was life in your family. That was life in la raza too whether or not you wanted to admit it too. You hid the weakest points of your life under a mask of bravado whether or not you were a man or a woman, because the insults and judgement from the white community were nothing in comparison to the dressing down you got from within the confines of your own safe circle.

It pissed you off and made you angry that everyone just always wanted to hide shit to be normal.

“Bullshit! I could smell it in your room the first week we came to Hawkins, goddamn liar. I know you didn’t have any on you when we left New Mexico. So you had to have gotten it here.” You said.

“Okay, so I made a few connections here and there…” he admitted. “At least I don’t walk around the damn house reeking of it along with some dude’s cologne all mas puta like you!”

“No, you just walk around smelling like fucking Tres Flores and Tecate. Only the best for El Mas Chingon.”

Jamie’s easygoing demeanor only served to piss you off. It was like you were a tiny poodle barking at a Doberman. Immediately Jamie tried redirecting your anger.

“It could be worse, pendeja. I could smell like that weird kid on our street back in Albuquerque, remember the weird one? He always smelled like sovaco…” he put a finger to his lips, trying to remember the name that escaped him.

You knew immediately the face but not the name of who he was talking about, even high you wouldn’t forget the people back home.

“Oh fuck!” you laughed. “What the hell was his name… FUCKING RAYMOND!”

“Raymundo!” Jamie laughed. “Fucking Raymond, man… Can we at least agree that we both smell better than that torcido?”

“Whatever, bitch…” You laughed. “What the fuck made you think of him?”

“The Old Spice your vato got all over you. Raymond tried using it once to cover up the pit smell when he caught some putasos from the homegirls in Hernandez.” Jaime laughed. “Goddamn, I hope Eddie isn’t as lame as Raymond?”

“Oh hell no, bro.” You grinned, taking your clothes into the bathroom and dropping them on the countertop over your Gillette Supermax hairdryer, “Eddie’s the real deal, vato. He’s a metalhead... Puro chingon.”

Jamie mock whistled, clearly unimpressed. While your brother appreciated metal music, he still had the typical machismo mentality that long hair and tight pants were for girls, and any metathead he saw in public was branded cruelly for life by your brother. You could already hear the homophobic insults he was thinking about Eddie in his head just by the tone of voice alone.

“Eeee… So if he’s a metalhead, does he have like all the long hair like a girl, and the leather jackets and shit?” Jamie asked.

“He’s not gonna wear a fucking leather jacket in this heat you idiot.” You said, “But he does have a battle vest he made himself. And he’s got the ripped skinny jeans, the rings… He even plays in a band!”

“What’s the name of the band?” He asked.

“Corroded Coffin.”

“… Corroded Coffin?” Jamie looked genuinely confused, before he burst out laughing. “Corroded Coffin?! The hell kind of name is that joto shit?”

“Shut up asshole!” You hiss, “You just don’t get the genius behind the name; it’s metal as fuck! Dare I say gothic as hell too! Just perfect for me, you know how I’ve always wanted to be all goth.”

Jamie laughs even harder. It’s just like him. Typical bullshit sibling banter, but the way he’s so dismissive of you and of Eddie… it makes you angry and defensive.

“Dios mio… you’re probably his wet dream then, all dressed in your black clothes like you’re going to a fucking funeral.” He laughs.

“Simón! He’s my Paul, I’m his Chani. I’m his Leia, he’s my Han. He’s my Alan, I’m his Madison…” you rattled off names of every couple you could think of in the media you consumed.

After a while, when the reefer made you forget what you were even saying, you turned to see Jamie with his cheeks puffed out. Clearly trying not to just burst out again laughing in your face.

“… You’re such a fucking weirdo, esa.” He said, voice strained.

“Oh shut up and leave me alone!”

He did laugh at that, and it took everything in you not to beat the crap out of him.

“Okay, okay… I’m sorry.” He wheezed.

There was silence for a beat. You didn’t know what to say anymore, and neither did he. You were about to just kick him out of your room when he finally spoke up again.

“You sure you’re not rushing into this?” He asked gently. “Because if you’re already comparing yourself to stupid ass movie relationships, it sounds like you’re already falling for the guy…”

“Hey, I can go as fast or slow as I want.” You snapped, “Eddie said relationships don’t have rules. We can go at our own pace. Whatever feels right to us. And it feels right to jump on the chance before someone else gets to him.”

“Just so long as you promise me that you won’t rush to do anything stupid. I don’t want you getting hurt, and I don’t want you getting pregnant either.” He said.

“A la maquinas bro! What the hell do you think? I know I sound desperate, but I’m not that goddamn desperate to get knocked up to keep him.” You whined.

“You’re already jumping into this way too fast. You’ve known him what, like a day or two? I don’t know how many times I’ve seen this shit happen: girls meeting guys and falling in love, then the next thing, sas, she’s popping out a kid in nine months. Don’t think you’re any different from other girls, mami.”

“I know I’m different.” You growled, the irritation coming back full force. “I know it… Eddie said I was, and everyone else knows I’m different too...”

“Yeah but… You’re still just as vulnerable as any other girl. You’re already falling for it now. If you fall so easily, you’ll end up all fucked up in the end. I’m just trying to look out for you, just be careful with this Eddie guy, okay? He’s some virgin nerd. You don’t know what he’s after-…”

“… he’s not a virgin…” you said softly.

Jamie paused his rant, looking up at you wide eyed.

“What?! You… how the hell do you know that?!” He demanded.

“He told me…” you mumbled.

“… how many girls has he been with?”

He leaned forward, waiting for an answer.

“He said he had an ex that he did it with all the time in his van…” you admitted, “And that there were a couple girls at the high school that wanted to do it with him on a dare.”

“Chingao…” he breathed, “Have you guys…”

“NO! No… no he…”

You two had hit at least third base at Lover’s Lake through two layers of nylon tights, and denim, grinding in the van until there was an embarrassing wet spot on the fly of his ripped up Wrangler jeans. He came, you came, and it had been the first time you had been so goddamned careless. You’d opened your legs to him, and he’d stopped you short.

“Sorry sweetheart. Normally I would, but not this time…”

“He said he didn’t wanna do it like that in the van while we were too high out of our minds…” you replied, recalling the way he’d almost withdrawn completely away, “He said… He said he wanted us to be sober, for it to be special…”

“Well… at least he wanted it to be different… Just watch it with him, don’t fall too hard for it, entiendes?” Jamie said.

What difference did it make if it was the right thing to do? You were already bitter and moody about it, feeling rejected and all types of ways about how this night had gone down. And that wasn’t the only thing you were bitter about…

“I won’t fall for it. I won’t because… ugh… I’m so fucking pissed, bro…” you growled.

“Why?” Jamie asked.

“Because he didn’t fucking wait!”

You kicked your wicker laundry hamper, pouting and stomping like a petulant child.

“Fucking cochino ass vatos, bro! Just going along with whoever showed a passing fancy, instead of waiting for someone to show up who really cared… Why… why didn’t…”

The feelings were bubbling and frothing in your stomach, hurting you physically from the shock in taking in his revelations in the van. At first, you’d been too high to understand what Eddie was saying. And then the more he rambled on about his previous little sticky fumblings with sex, the angrier you got. What the fuck, you’d thought. Feelings of possessiveness and jealously had plagued you and made your heart hurt, and you had to pretend that his rambling about how you were special and different and how he wanted things to be better quelled the jealous fury.

“Why didn’t that dumbass wait for me?!” You finally sobbed.

Jamie began to laugh.

It was ugly. It was unchecked. It totally invalidated everything you felt. But he began to howl.

“Serious?!” He exclaimed, “You don’t own this guy, he had a life before you. You’re just being all celosas!”

“Shut the fuck up, cabron! No I’m not!” You cried.

“You are!” He laughed, “You’re jealous of girls that ain’t even in the picture anymore!”

Hold it back… hold it in… don’t go for him unchecked… because if you did it now you’d fall flat on your ass and only make your brother laugh harder.

“It’s not fucking funny!” You whined, “It’s not funny, you ass… Eddie’s… he’s the only guy that’s ever paid any attention to me… He’s perfect for me… Why couldn’t he just wait and hope that there was someone out there, that I was out there…?”

“Because that ain’t how shit works, mensa.”

Jamie suddenly looked serious, as if attempting to speak to your jealousy to quell its fury.

“Eddie’s his own man, he’s a person. He’s got his own needs and wants outside of you. You can’t expect someone to just sit on their thumbs waiting just because it’s what you want them to do. This is why I’m worried about you getting so attached. You’re already hurting yourself getting hung up on the what ifs…”

Jamie paused, but because he usually just said shit, he continued.

“And for real, your way of thinking is pretty selfish.”

“But…”

He held up a hand to you.

“Do you even hear yourself when you’re talking?” He asked, “I know you’re high right now, but goddamn dude. You’re basically reducing Eddie to nothing more than an object, like he’s a possession. That ain’t how real love works. You can’t get all worked up because he’s got a past that didn’t revolve around you.”

“But… but’s not fair, because I wouldn’t have treated him like the other girls did…” you tried to defend yourself.

“Mami, who cares? You ain’t above them just because you would have been nicer to him, regardless if they were shitty or not. You don’t know them, nor do you know what went down. I’m not saying it’s wrong to wait for the right person, but just because you made that choice to stay ‘pure’ or whatever doesn’t mean you get to act like you’re all bad and so better than everyone else-…”

“BUT I DIDN’T GET THAT CHOICE!”

You were at the breaking point. Fuck him. Fuck him! He didn’t know you. You realized then and there, Jamie didn’t even want to understand how you felt about all this.

“That’s a fucking crock of shit…” you hissed. “I didn’t get that choice to save myself for someone! Everyone else made it for me because no one fucking… Those girls he was with got a choice to do it with someone, Eddie got a choice to do it with someone… I didn’t get no fucking choice! No one… no one even wanted to…”

It’s too goddamned much. It’s too fucking much to think about. Your mind is a whirlpool, Charybdis incarnate as you’re pulled in twenty different emotional directions. No one gave you a choice to decide who you wanted to give yourself to, and god knows there were plenty of guys back in New Mexico who you would have shared everything with. You weren’t as prudish as everyone believed you to be. Frankly the thought of having sex thrilled and excited you, it was special attention that was exclusive to the individual, and Jesus Christ you wanted special attention. Any kind of attention really. So in those vulnerable moments of awkwardly awakening your thoughts and feelings, you began your hunt to find someone to share this love with. There were a lot of guys you projected a fantasy into. Each was a clone of some Prince Charming who didn’t exist. Comprised of qualities you naively believed a lover should have, a smattering of this and that: someone who could share your passion in music, someone you related to culturally, a lover of books, someone who lived with their head in the clouds as you did, those who had a zest for life and living that you had lost… They all had some amazing quality you’d projected onto them, and yet not a one gave you the fucking time of day.

The results were the same: they’d look you up and down, and then make the decision. A resounding no. They looked at you, with your baggy black clothes and oversized jacket, and they all thought the same thing: not a fucking chance in hell. No matter how hard you tried to understand why there was so much resounding rejection, you never could quite figure it out. All you knew was you were nothing to them. You were furniture. And if you went scrambling after them, trying to be what they wanted you to be, they spoke down to you. As if you were a child. As if you were stupid. Everyone did…

But not Eddie…

You think you’re the only one in this van that does weird out there shit?

Eddie had grabbed you by the backpack. Staked his claim on you. Stolen you from Hawkins High like a bundle of contraband…

We’re both weird.

The two of you could throw Dune references at one another, and he’d listen eagerly to you talk about the other books you’d read… not once did he ever judge or call you a fucking child. Only one other person in the world didn’t judge you either, and he was nowhere to be found…

We’re both freaks…

Eddie said he would lend you his copy of The Lord of the Rings, because you’d never read it before. Then he said something about how you were prettier than the Lady Galadriel… You wanted to get to that part of the book to confirm if that was a good thing or not. You wanted to know everything about him and share things with him, to fit in, to feel affection…

I don't care if you're weird. I like it.

Eddie taught you to do the tongue thing… With the promise of teaching so much more…

I like you…

“Get out of my room.” You said lowly to your brother.

“Hey, wait a minute-…”

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer…

“Get. Out. Of. My. Room.” You hissed.

“Hermana-…”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”

You didn’t wait to hear his sputtering protests. With a strength you didn’t know you possessed, you shoved Jamie as hard as you could out of your room, slamming the door behind him and locking it deftly before turning on your record player so loud it set off the barking of your dogs.

Jamie didn’t know shit from fuck. No one did… They didn’t get it. They were all just fine, going through their mundane lives like nothing was wrong, when everything in the entire world was wrong. The world wasn’t like in books. The world was messy and complicated and stupid… And it just wasn’t goddamned fair.

But deep down, you knew you deserved the pain. The world had your hand in a box, a poisoned needle at your throat. To move away, to flinch even the slightest bit, was to forfeit to death.

You weren’t going to let that happen. So you decided to go with what you knew: keep your mouth shut, your head down, and give Eddie Munson whatever in the hell he wanted. Even if you had to pretend like certain things didn’t hurt you.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer…

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #we got really into the trenches with this chapter #homegirl said the quiet part out loud

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silverpelt3600 · 6 months

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Halo 2x7 Spoilers!

What’s up y’all we’re back with another series of my irrelevant and incomprehensible thoughts on this weeks episode!

- OOH! “There’s a difference, you’re human!” “Am I? Are you?” Woah! Easy there tiger that hurt his feelings.

- also the jump to seeing him not bloody feels so jarring, and then immediately back to him being beat up lol.

- YO! Didn’t expect Cortana to pop up immediately.

- good grief the whole “you train them I choose what to do with them”, careful girly you’ll show your true colors to your partner in crime!

- KAI! All my homies love Kai, shout out Kai. And lmao John “I didn��t ask for your help” like DUDE be so fr right now you’re not doing so hot.

- wow the condors getting taken out so fast, the look on Ackerman’s face. Like, it totally just set in for him how deep in shit he is with this whole operation.

- Soren’s flashbacks mixed in between scenes of the new Spartans. Great show of how nothings changed for the spartan program. And jeez, he wants to go back? Some real Stockholm shit.

- WHAT THE HELL KAI! “I made a mistake. Maybe you don’t know that but that’s what humans do.” Can everyone just take a CHILL with bullying John?! Good grief it’s like everyone’s go to when they’re upset with him is saying he’s not human.

- live laugh love John going sicko mode fr

- Also woah! Surprise with the spike! Not surprised that the crazy lady is crazy though! And “those Spartans are my life’s work” “I’ve heard that before” LMAOO bad word choice when talking to the angry spartan with trauma.

- THE ARMOR YEAHHHHHH!!!! Aw Vannak’s armor nooo

- “he wasn’t scared, just didn’t understand.” What if I cried. What if I started sobbing.

- also John’s “I’m the proof” hell yeah you are buddy what a power move

- starmap moment was cool. Halsey as usual charging head first and the two science brains just not having the perspective needed.

- Kai’s “they’re mine”, I love her she cares so much about both of her teams.

- good grief Halsey drives me NUTS with how tunnel visioned she is.

- damn Makee, alright girly that was maybe a bit much but I get it.

- alright Soren’s situation just got a lot more complicated!

- THE SUIT! HES IN THE SUIT! He’s so cool I love him. Also “what it would mean to me” from Perez just breaks my heart. And her humanizing him! When literally this episode has had multiple of the opposite!

- oh FUCK YEAH John just walking through the building like a badass. All those people stopping and looking at him! He knows how awesome he is

- Holy shit the Halo!

- and that’s it?? Omg the writers are killing me.

Alright y’all I hope that was somewhat coherent. This show drives me nuts with the cliff hangers but John truly has skyrocketed to the top of my list of favorite characters. Also he’s attractive, so that helps too lmao. Anyways season finale next week will probably kill me! :)

#halo the series #halo tv show #halo #john 117 #master chief

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ottiliere · 11 months

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hello! ur posts on the vagus nerve and its connections to digestions have encouraged me to do a lil mini dissertation thingy kinda focused on it/around it, ur big thread on PVT and everything really piqued my interest when i read it and i just held onto it for like a year or smthing until like last week when i started the project. Ik u said recently in one of ur posts i believe that ur not going to post the big dirk PVT post and im not here to be like yo post it because i also think u said that ur kinda moving away from like hs/dirky stuff rn ?? (im forgetting if i saw that sorry) but yeah i just wanted to say thank u etc etc, like ive never done an ask before so sorry if this is phrased weirdly but ur blog is just like one of those blogs that fundamentally changed how i view certain things in life for the better lol, like whether its ur beautiful representations / depictions of mental health in like just beautifully painted art (seriously the way u make it look like idk how to word it cartoony/really 2d but then it stands out against the background + if u zoom in and see the tiny pixel details == it makes me mad) or just like the huggeee long form posts that i like to chew on and save cuz theres so many details that AFFAAT like the way you talk abt the topics u portray has made me concious of how i would want to do so in the same way ig u get me. anyway this got really long and idk if i come across coherently, but ur just a random person on the internet whos art and written thoughts that u decide to share makes me happy when i see it == makes me pace around my room and distract me from this fat essay lmao so tldr: i really appreciate what u do + i hope like that ur doing well and that u keep arting and thoughting no matter what it is that u choose to focus on

(uve made me comitted to reading jthm, playing psychonauts and giving jjba w/ dio another go lmao) 🫶🫶

Hello! I’m sorry this reply is coming so late, this ask in particular is very sweet and has stuck out to me.

I’m really happy to have introduced you to PVT, this is something I’ve heard from a few different people on here and it’s very sweet… I did my thesis on it in college and the time really flew by while working on it, things you don't think could possibly attributed to "nerve issues" being nerve issues is always an eye-opener, isn't it? being able to research things that interest you & access information in general really is a privilege in this day and age.

“The topics [I] portray” are very important to me, so it’s heartening when others take interest in spite of the obvious deterrents. A lot of what I love making art about is unpalatable to most, and while I do understand the reasons for that on principle, it can make things feel a little insular. I genuinely believe there’s a lot of value in depicting tableaus of misery.

The last year has brought a lot of very unforeseen changes, and my life is quite different from when I initially made this blog to post about him! That’s also part of why I’ve been so sparse here…though I’m working to change that quite soon. I love sharing my work, and I’ve had the privilege of meeting some truly wonderful people through this website. That said…with where I’m at now, I’m not sure I’ll be posting the Dirk essay anytime soon, I’m afraid.

I’ve undertaken a few ongoing projects, one of which in particular is an original project I plan on sharing publicly here hopefully within the next month or so. I hope it’s something you & anyone else who’s stuck around with me here will enjoy, but failing that, I’ve really enjoyed working on it thus far.

Thank you for the sweet ask, take care, and good luck with your project!

#ask #I'm not afraid to admit that my fondness for dio is entirely contingent on things I made up about him in my head over the years.#there's a draft here filled with thousands of words about him that I started writing up in response to some ask I got earlier this year #but I never finished it... :( and I also never posted the dozens and dozens of pictures I frenetically drew of him either. maybe someday #on another note: I did my yearly reread of johnny the other month. I'll do something big with him one day but this year is not the year #similarly sasha answers in the queue. I'm glad you enjoyed psychonauts it's one of the greatest games ever visually and re: gameplay. etc #lucy art

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astarionposting · 8 months

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Hi, I just want to say that your work is stunning and we're very thankful for it! I also hope that nobody is causing you problems about liking that other route...It's ludicrous that people still act like children when it comes to what others enjoy, not to mention that if you show them two pictures of Astarion they won't even be able to tell which one is the 'bad' route and which one is the 'good' one.

Other than that, I wish you a very nice day!

Thank you so much! 🥹🥹 I’m so so happy you enjoy my content.

Thankfully no one has caused me any issues with Ascended Astarion stuff haha. I guess because I do acknowledge he is 100% evil if he ascends, but SOMETIMES I LIKE ME AN EVIL MAN!! I enjoy both routes and think they are both super fun to play.

I love Spawn Astarion for him being able to overcome his fears, open up, heal and become “better” (but still pretty cheeky and wanting to create as much chaos as possible) and end the cycle of abuse, which is very personal to me as well in my own trauma. I love that he is able to overcome what I would consider an unhealthy coping mechanism to his fear; he is scared, so his reaction is to obtain as much power over everyone else so no one can ever hurt him again, but then he would lose himself in the process… and his SO if you decide not to become his spawn. I mean, he pretty much becomes his BIGGEST fear, his own source of 200 years of trauma and abuse (“the new cazador”—just like Cazador did since he was also a spawn and killed his own master for power out of fear—if I’m remembering correctly).

BUT I also like the Ascended Astarion route for how tragic it is. How you can really see right through him and how he ISN’T satisfied. He gets so angry with you if you even point it out a little bit, that sacrificing all of those souls, including his own in a way, didn’t fix anything. He’s still so insecure. He is still afraid (he’s just much more aggressive and defensive about it). He is still unhappy and he will never actually be free. I mean, it’s a deal with MEPHISTOPHELES. He might have been freed from one master, but now he owes his power to another, much more dangerous and powerful being. Not only that, but he will never be free from himself. If you listen to Cazador’s inner thoughts, you can hear how much he WANTS to die, how much he HATES being a soulless and vile vampire with only a lust for blood. No capability to love, to care, to be any part of who he might’ve been before.

The song “hurt” by NIN makes me think of Ascended Astarion. He says “we can have it all, we can take the world”. But what is “having it all?”. “Having it all” to me would be the Spawn ending. Being free of his abuser, being free of owing his power to someone else, being able to be HIMSELF and surrounded by people who care about him because of who he is, not because of his power.

Anyways I’m not that great at writing my thoughts coherently so I’ll stop there lol, but I also like his voice lines cause they can be kind of hot because also kind of goofy 😭 😭 and it’s fiction!! I read the wildest fanfic out there but if an actual man spoke to me that way, I would be OUT OF THERE SOOOO FAST lol

I don’t like to call them the “bad” or “good” ending, because it’s different for everyone. I mean, it’s a ROLEPLAYING GAME. Yeah, if your Tav/Durge is good alignment, then the spawn ending may seem to be the “good” one, but if your Tav/Durge is evil then wouldn’t the vampire ascendent ending technically be “good” for them? Anyways, I just think people struggle to separate reality from fiction when they get too deep into it. I love soft-ish and cheeky vampire and also evil and hot vampire like WE CAN ENJOY BOTH!!!

Anyways, thank you so much again and I hope you also have a wonderful day!! ❤️

#my asks #ALSO LISTEN TO THAT SONG #IT IS SUCH A GOOD SONG #AND THE LYRICS WHEN I THINK OF AA MAKES ME 😔#also I didn’t look over this before posting it so it might make 0 sense and there may be a bunch of typos lol

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totally-sapphic-posts · 10 months

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hi, so i might have my first date with a girl on monday, and i might be *slightly* panicking!! for context, i’ve known i’m queer for a while, but im still struggling with a lot of stuff (thank you to internalized homophobia), but im working on it. and i think i want this to work, but i have no experience at all, like in general. and im really stressed about how it’s going to go, im scared i might be too platonic, or just too in my head in general since i tend to be like that anyways. and yeah. im worried it’s all gonna turn sour for some reason

First date’s exciting!

I can give some tips on not being too platonic.

• when you give compliments, your wording is important. Example: ‘omg you’re so pretty!’=platonic, ‘you look really beautiful’= more romantic

• if you feel comfortable at any point in the date and you guys are walking, offer her your hand. You don’t have to straight up ask, ‘do you want to hold hands’. I know I personally don’t like asking out loud, so I just offer my hand and it’s up to them if they want to hold or not. If she doesn’t take your hand, don’t worry, she might just not be there yet, but it’s not the end of the world. Shrug it off and move on with the conversation, she’ll feel more comfortable. It’ll help if you keep the convo light here.

• if you guys have been talking for a while, maybe consider buying something small/making something small (simple bracelet or something) and on the date, say something along the lines of, ‘this would look pretty on you’ and put it on her. Or you can say you made/bought it for her. But iwl, I like ‘forgetting’ to ask for it back at the end of the date 😂 then telling her she can keep it because it looks pretty on her.

• try to do things on the date that will let you talk more (not movies). This is a personal preference, but can help with getting to know each other and not awkwardly glancing at each other in the cinema.

I could go on and on with more specific things, but I think the best thing to do is just be honest with each other while you’re getting to know one another, and slowly navigate more intense topics (probably best for later dates 🤞).

Just go with the flow as much as possible and maybe be transparent about your feelings with her. Tell her you’re nervous for the date, but really excited for it as well. Who knows, maybe she feels the same and can be an icebreaker for the two of you.

On your internalized homophobia, I’ve been there, and I really hope for the best for you. I actually used this blog in the beginning to help with my internalized homophobia, and used the space as a validation for the attraction I had for women and to let myself know that it was alright.

I hope this was helpful, my thoughts have been a bit all over the place lately, so hopefully this came out somewhat coherent 😂❤️ all the best to you, anon

#ask #wlw

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 2 years

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How they act when they have a crush on you / how they confess

Characters: Dehya/Ei x gn!reader (separate)

Warnings: none

a/n: Really, REALLY wanted to write something for Dehya since I just finished most of the new Archon quest (There are no spoilers in this fic, don't worry), so I thought about writing another part of the first scenario I could think of.

I also decided to add Ei, since I thought it might be interesting to write this with her, so yeah.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Dehya

Dehya was no newcomer when it came to how to hide certain secrets or putting on a façade to conceal once interests, she had to do so most of the time when it came to her… less imposing hobbies and interests. All of which was to say that there was no chance for you to find out about her feelings if she didn’t want to.

…well, that’s what’s the case most of the time, but while those masks of her did a good job at hiding whatever they were supposed to hide, one tease in the right direction was enough to make them almost collapse in on themselves. Simply remembering how bad she was at hiding the fact that she was ticklish once you as much as threatened to try it out yourself was a good enough reminder to herself. So, to spare herself the embarrassment of a screwed cover up, she decided on a simple course of action if you were to come close to that secret of hers: come clean.

While you neither were a mercenary yourself, nor actively had to fight in your day to day live, you still enjoyed training your sword fighting skills with Dehya from time to time. It was a nice way to bond while also technically counting as training for the mercenary, even if she didn’t have to put that much effort into beating you most of the time. But what you lacked in skill, you tried making up by other means.

“How about we go and eat something for dinner later?”, you asked while trying your best to either block or dodge Dehya’s attacks, both feeling a lot of surprise and some sort of self-satisfaction after actually managing to not get hit for a couple of her swings, only to let your sword go when you felt her blade connecting to your ring-finger, thanking the gods for making you not dumb enough to refuse her offers of using wooden swords while also trying your best not to scream in agony.

“Sounds like a good idea”, the aforementioned mercenary answered with a small smile, causing you to shoot her a small glare.

“Don’t act innocent and as if you weren’t aiming for my hands all this time”, you half-jokingly demanded, only for Dehya to playfully roll her eyes, lips still curved up.

“That’s what we professionals call a ‘tactic’”, she answered, making you realise that you weren’t going to get far by acting annoyed with her, instead proceeding to wrap your finger in your other hand while putting on a dramatic show.

“How cruel of you Dehya. Where am I going to put my future wedding ring if I lose my precious ring-finger while training with you?”, you cried out, catching the mercenary off guard for a second, only for her to quickly signal to your other hand. “No need to put on such act, we both know well enough that you wish for nothing more than to be the one to share matching rings with me. You can show your distraught and guilt. I’m not going to judge you”, you continued teasing her, only to be too indulged in your performance to notice the blush on her face.

While Dehya wasn’t stupid enough to believe that you were on to her, she would be lying to say that it hadn’t caught her off guard as much as it did, probably enough for you to score a hit on her if you still had your sword in hand and planned to use the opportunity.

“I can’t exactly say that that’s on my to-do list at the moment”, she responded once she collected herself enough to form a coherent sentence, the semi-long pause leading up to her response seemingly not bothering you a bit.

“’at the moment’? So, you say that it’s something you might put on your to-do list later? Oh my- I would have never expected for the legendary flame mane to have fallen for me”, you struck another pose while wearing the same big smile you always did whenever you enjoyed yourself way more than you should, only to fall immediately silent when you noticed how red her face had become, causing you to return to a normal way of standing. “Sorry if I struck a ner-”

“And what if I do?”, Dehya decided to interrupt you. Her brazenness causing the tables to turn as you were the one to be silent now, silently staring at her while blinking a couple of times, your face turning red enough to be confused with a giant tomato, the weird imagery somehow helping her to somewhat handle her nervousness.

“Are you serious-”, you wanted to ask, only to shut up when she nodded before you even finished, causing your pause to continue for what felt like an eternity. “…o-Okay. W-Well, about the dinner”, you continued, only to gather your thoughts for a couple more seconds, “We can make it something like our first date. I-If you’re fine with it, I mean”, you finally managed to finish your sentence, silently cringing at how bad of a job you did at stringing a response together.

“Sure”, Dehya in comparison was quick to respond, putting the wooden sword away before signalling you to follow her, letting out a sigh of relief when she was sure you weren’t looking.

Ei was far from the most proficient person when it came to understanding romantic emotions, there never really having been a person she would consider herself to be infatuated with. Back when her sister ruled Inazuma, most of its citizens didn’t even know the two of them weren’t the same person and after she had passed… there weren’t that many opportunities for her to find one.

So, when she turned her back to her Plane of Euthymia, choosing to work on becoming the ruler her sister had wanted her to be, a lot of surprised awaited her. Not only had the city and many of its customs changed in the few hundred years the electro Archon had locked herself in a prison of her own making, but once she met you, she was introduced to a lot of emotions she had never felt before.

While it wasn’t difficult for Ei to remember a time your visits weren’t a frequent thing, she thoroughly enjoyed every single of them. You seemed to have a never-ending supply of stories and anecdotes about daily life in Inazuma, and while that didn’t seem like anything too important to most, every insight into the Inazuma of today was quite literally worth more than gold to her. It also helped that they most of them were entertaining and uplifting, and even if you told one that most would consider boring, your Archon would listen attentively, being contend with watching you talk enthusiastically.

There was also that weird feeling in her stomach she felt whenever she was near you, and while she was self-reflective enough to consult someone about them before making up her own theories, Ei made the objectively bad decision to ask the person she considered her closest friend, only for the kitsune in question to have a field trip with that knowledge. The electro archon had up until that point never was embarrassed by that feeling and wouldn’t be so afterwards, but Yae had the “gift” of managing to fluster people even with what they saw as their greatest triumphs against them, so it was no surprise that it ended the way it did.

“My Archon, I’m sorry to interrupt, but someone from the Yashiro Commission requests a word with you”, one of the Shogun’s many servants interrupted your conversation by knocking on her chamber’s door and opening the door.

“Tell them I’m occupied at the moment, I’ll meet them once I’m done”, Ei was quick to respond, causing the servant to nod and close the door behind them, only for you to glance at her with a worried look.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to prioritise me to the Yashiro Commission? It sounded like there was something important to be discussed, my Ar- Ei”, you corrected yourself immediately, remembering how she had requested for you to call her, even it the thought of calling your own Deity by her name was still a weird one to you.

“I don’t see a problem with it. Learning to understand the daily lives of one’s subjects is about as important as it can get for a ruler, or that’s what a certain someone once told me”, she countered your point, referring to one of your first conversations, one in which you felt even more nervous than you always did when speaking to the God of Thunder, but quite possibly also the one that made it possible for you to talk to her as often as you now did.

“I admire your dedication, but the people from the Yashiro Commission are really important-”, you barely managed to blurt out your sentence before Ei already interrupted you.

“There’s no human I consider more important than you, so I’m sure they will be fine waiting for a bit longer”, she bluntly stated her feelings, not caring about what you or anyone else might think about her comment, causing you to fall silent for a few seconds before you finally managed to piece just enough words together to form a sentence.

“If that’s the case, I’m going to continue then”, you looked down to hide your blush, only for your Archon to hum in response.

“Very well, please tell me more about you.” AND Inazuma, you assumed Ei forgot to add, deciding to not attempt to correct her in fear she’d somehow notice how fast your heart was beating. Before trying your best to remember where you left off, continuing your story with nothing but a few stutters here and there.

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