#Don’t eat laundry detergent kids

[froggydrawz]

fun fact: did you know that laundry detergent is not edible?

i didn’t.

[bonesandchalamet]

predictable - c.fisher

masterlist

requested: y- “Can you do a conrad fisher x reader where the readers family has a house next to theirs so they grew up going to cousins for the summers (cons age), and they are in love w each other but don’t want to admit it and everyone notices it around them/teases them. maybe a flash ward to their wedding in a couple of years and everyone’s speeches are like “yeah i won the bet they would be married by now” or smth like that?“

pairings: conrad fisher x fem!reader

warnings: fluff + jokes

a/n: I hope I did this justice anon! xx there are NO spoilers of book 2 or season 2!

you can hear his voice. it’s muffled, he sounds like he’s in your kitchen, a blessing of having the bedroom right above it, but you can hear him talking to your mother.

you don’t have time to think, you just fling your legs over your mattress and rush down the stairs at an appropriate pace. you’d just woke up, maybe not your best state to be in, but you couldn’t wait to see conrad fisher. the boy next door.

he’d gone to Princeton, smart cookie if you say so yourself, and you hadn’t seen him since last summer. in fact, you only saw him maybe once or twice outside of the neighborhood and that was getting ice cream and groceries. other than that, you live by the fence that separates your yards waiting to hear the laughter and conversations from the Conklin and fisher kids.

“just tomatoes? are you sure? I can go pick out some basil—“

“no, no laurel will kill you if you do any more yard work! I can get it.” you hear conrad protest. the fisher family was used to your parents generosity, the beautiful vegetable garden grew right on the fisher/y/l/n house line, the family was more than welcome to eat and take whatever they wanted, but it didn’t stop them from being kind enough to ask. Susannah raised those boys right.

“are you sure?”

“what’s going on?” you ask, it’s like the words floated out of you when you saw him. his brown hair a little longer than normal, his t-shirt a bit smaller on him, and he’s wearing small navy blue swim trunks. a sight to make any girl swoon for a fisher.

“oh, y/n, do you think you can help conrad get some more tomatoes from the vines? it seems to be the fisher-Conklin clan has run out.” your mother hands you Susannah’s woven basket that conrad was once holding. your mother looks at you with pleading eyes but she knows you’ll do anything that has conrad fisher involved.

“happy to.” you take the basket in your hand and gesture for conrad to follow. he thanks your mother once again and follows along out the back door. you can hear not only just your heartbeat, but the blood rushing to your ears.

being alone with Conrad was sometimes awkward. at least to you it always felt that way, because you never knew how to be around him as yourself. you were so deeply in love with him that just being in his presence was enough to make you fumble over your words.

“here I can get the tomatoes.” conrad pushes past you, his shoulder brushing against your body, you could smell his cologne, the salty ocean in his hair, and the mixture of the laundry detergent Susannah uses. it was an intoxicating smell, one to make your world spin.

“you sure? they are kind of all over the place.” you chuckle setting the basket down into the grass. you start picking the beautiful blush red ones and gently place them in the basket along side the ones conrad was picking. every so often your hands would brush or you’d about pick the same tomato. you both would blush and apologize instantly for the connection.

“would you guys just kiss already! you’re making me nauseous.” Jeremiah calls over the fence line from the pool, he’s watched about every embarrassing second of you and his brothers interactions.

“come on, con!” Steven hollers, it’s loud enough for the neighbors on the other side of their house to snicker at the boys energy for far too early in the morning.

“I don’t know what their problem is.” Conrad says and it’s only for you two to hear. he’s picked up the basket from the grass now, you’re stuck with holding a few more tomatoes that he claims would be more than enough for everyone.

“no seriously, just keep those ones.”

“we have enough inside, just take them—“

“fine,” he huffs out an annoyed sigh and watches you dump them into the basket, “can I at least make you breakfast with them?”

“sounds like a plan to me.”

that day, he made you more than breakfast. he made you feel the most indescribable feeling of love and excitement. he left you walking home as beat red as those tomatoes you picked. you could thank Steven and Jeremiah for their pressure and tease, because conrad fisher did in fact kiss you that morning.

—

FUTURE

“I’m so happy for these guys because today I became twenty dollars richer,” Jeremiah pauses, the laughter of friends and family make you both blush, “so thank you Steven for believing they would never get married. here’s to the bride and the groom!” Jeremiah holds his champagne glass up, others in the room follow.

“you really bet we would get married?” Conrad turns to his brother who passes the microphone to belly before sitting down beside him.

Jeremiah’s hands clap his brothers shoulder, “we also made a bet that you’d kiss her that summer. belly also made a bet that you’d have tomatoes on the menu, looks like you guys are the most predictable couple ever.”

[sugurufic]

Shopping Carts and Conversations (Geto x Reader)

Summary: You're out shopping with the twins and Geto, when an eldery couple mistakes you for a young couple and the twins as your kids, a comment you're too happy to ignore.

Word Count: 1.2k

Content Warnings: Fluff, for context it's related to Co-Parenting with Suguru, but there's no need to read that for this.

masterlist

At the supermarket, Mimiko clings to your leg as you walk down the cleaning supplies aisle. You grab a bottle of the fabric conditioner and give it to the four year old to smell. Her little nose scrunched up, and you hand her another fragrance of the fabric conditioner. She approves that one and you throw it in your cart.

“Are you tired Mimiko?” You ask the little girl, she shakes her head in dissent but you can tell she is tired. You have been in the store for too long. “Come here,” you tell her before picking her up in your arms, and she quickly wraps her little arms and legs around you. She is very thin and light for a four year old, all thanks to those cruel villagers. 

With Mimiko at your hip, you push the cart forward and grab your favourite brand of laundry detergent and stain remover. You can't remember if Geto has extra dishwash, you quickly text him asking about it.

Geto Suguru: No Geto Suguru: Are you by the cleaning supplies? You: Yes You: Where are you? Geto Suguru: I'll be there in a moment

You're startled with a fake cough near your ear, but you smile on realising it's Geto and Nanako. The sight in front of you makes you and Mimiko giggle - Nanako is sitting on Geto's shoulder, using his bun as her makeshift support. You quickly snap pictures and show it to Mimiko, who nods in approval.

“What's so funny to you?” Geto asks. “Nanako here was helping me search. You rushed away so quickly.”

“We did not rush away, I told you I'm gonna get some detergent. You're out of it back home.” You counter. “Right, Mimiko?”

Mimiko nods in support and adds, “And you said ‘hmm’, Geto Sama,”

Geto blushes for a moment, embarrassed. “Well, all that matters is that we've found you now.”

“Sure,” you tease, giggling. “What did you get?”

“We have to get rice, lentils and vegetables.” Geto says, holding Nanako’s knees on either side of his head. He brings her to his arms and sits her down on the baby carrier in your cart and pushes it out the cleaning supplies aisle after you throw the dishwash in it.

“We’re out of carrots and cucumbers,” you note. “We have enough tomatoes to last the week. Oh, potatoes - stock up on them. That seems about right.” You turn to the child on your hip and then to the one in the cart. “What do you guys think of apples and bananas?”

“Nooo…” they both whine in unison.

“But you have to eat it, or you won’t get big or strong like Geto-kun,” You tease. The girls think hard at that, always admiring Geto as their father figure. “All of us can have fruits together, then ice cream after?”

The twins look like they want to say no, but they’re big fans of ice cream like most children, so they don’t protest much. You and Geto sneaked in some more fruits to the cart and different vegetables that most kids were known to not like. You wait for your cart to be unloaded into bags by the entrance with Mimiko, while Nanako continues to cling to Geto. You reach out for her when Geto is at the exit to get the bill scanned, holding the two of them on either side. Once free of the guard, he quickly snaps a picture and holds the bags in one hand and Mimiko with the other.

“What lovely kids you have got,” An elderly woman entering the store comments. She is with her husband and presumably their grandchild. Your face heats up, but you don’t bother correcting her, and neither does Geto. “Such a lovely young couple with a family,”

“Thank you,” Geto says, smiling at the old couple. “Is that your grandchild? He looks adorable.”

“He is spending the weekend with us,” The old man says with a nod. “May the gods be kind to you,”

“Thank you,” You say this time. “We hope the same for you,”

Your face burns as you sit Nanako and Mimiko down in the back of the car as Geto loads the bags into the trunk. Your girls have little smiles on their face, and you ask them what they’re smiling about.

“You didn’t say anything when they called us a family,” Nanako says.

“And you thanked them for the prayers,” Mimiko adds.

“Well, that’s because we are a family, aren’t we?” You say, caressing both their baby cheeks with either hand. “It’s nice to be polite to polite people.”

On the way back, you’re both quiet, enjoying listening to the twins talk among themselves. Their delight at your silent acceptance has your heart soaring, and you cannot keep that stupid smile off your face. You are barely holding back your giggles, not wanting Geto to think that you have gone crazy. 

“What’s got you so smiley?” Geto quietly asks you, his hand settling on your knee after changing gears.

“They’re so happy to be considered our family,” you admit, unable to keep the giddiness out of your voice. “I love them so much,”

Geto glances at you from the mirror, admiring the way you glow with joy. He half hopes you’ll remark on that comment of the old lady of you being a lovely couple, but you don’t - too happy to be considered the girls’ mother. He supposes it’s fine, wondering if he will ever gather the courage to ask you out.

“You know, you’ve been helping me out so much, why don’t you start calling me Suguru?” He says instead. “It’s a little strange to hear our girls see you as a mother figure but you still calling me Geto,”

You giggle once again, admiring his pretty face from the side. His eyes flicker to the mirror, but he is mostly focused on the road. It’s nice to hear him ask this so casually, and somehow you hope he’ll say something else, something more - but you’ll happily take what he offers. “Okay, Suguru,” you test, loving the way his name rolls off your tongue. He looks positively delighted too. “You should start addressing me by my first name too, then.”

“Of course,” he says, the sound of your name sounding angelic in his soft voice. You get why he has always been popular among the girls, his pretty face and voice and gentle manners are easy to impress almost anyone. Your face only brightens when he hums out your name, a chuckle escaping you.

Geto cannot stop thinking about the elderly couple addressing you and his girls as a lovely young couple with a family - he hasn’t felt that delighted in a long while, praying to the gods who listen to give him courage, courage to finally ask you out for a date. You’re so kind, helping him with the girls and reassuring him that he is doing a great job with the girls, spending your time with him and your girls, acting like the unassigned-assigned head of the household. 

In his rose coloured dream, he can freely hold you and kiss your pretty face as he pleases, the girls call him papa and call you mama - it’s a fantasy so close to reality that he can almost taste it, but like Tantalus’ fruit, it’s just a bit too far away.

A/N: Can you tell that i'm in love with this dynamic?

[zeroreasonstocare]

One day while watching Yuji, your clothes get dirty. No problem, you can go to your apartment and change… except you locked yourself out. Don’t worry, Choso has your spare key! It’s gotta be somewhere… it’s with him and he’s not off work for another couple of hours.

Luckily, the little kid you babysit is a problem solver, and Yuji hands you one of Choso’s shirts to change into instead. It’s actually pretty comfortable, a little big, but it smells like his laundry detergent and a lingering scent of his cologne.

“That shirt is big on you!” Yuji points out the obvious.

“Yeah, it is, Yuji. But it’s pretty comfy. You sure he won’t mind?”

“I promise! Choso won’t mind, I think.”

“You think?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m bored.”

You laugh and cook Yuji dinner as he plays with toys. After a couple hours, you put Yuji to bed and Choso comes home.

“I’m back.” He calls out, and you appear out of Yuji’s room. Choso almost chokes on his own spit when he sees you in his shirt.

“Sorry, I got my shirt dirty and locked myself out of my apartment somehow…”

“Oh, do I need to unlock it for you?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

The two of you go to the next door apartment and Choso unlocks it for you and you grab your keys.

“I swear I had these with me,” you mumble and sigh. “Sorry for wearing your shirt again.”

“I don’t mind. It’s cute on you.” He says without thinking and immediately looks away in embarrassment. Your cheeks flush as well and you laugh a little.

“Thanks… It smells nice, you know…”

“Probably just the detergent I use,” he mumbles in a flustered manner.

“It also has a hint of your cologne. Smells like you, it’s nice…” You’re going to be the death of him.

“Uh, th-thanks… I’m guessing Yuji’s in bed?”

“Yeah, he just fell asleep.”

“Good, good…”

“…I’ll clean your shirt and bring it back tomorrow. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, okay, take your time.” He silently scolds himself for being so flustered. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, does Yuji need babysat?”

“No, but he does need to prepare for Sukuna to visit again.”

“Oh boy, sounds like fun.” You laugh.

“You have no idea. I’m just hoping he doesn’t bother me about you.” He laughs and shakes his head.

You smile and head into your apartment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Choso.”

“Yeah, see you.”

He waits outside your apartment a little longer before going inside, opening the fridge to find a meal set aside for him with a little note from you reminding him to eat. He smiles and heats up the food, tracing over how you write his name. He’s really not looking forward to his uncle visiting again.

Masterlist

[xiaq]

Steddie Time Travel Fix-it pt. 13 [now complete!]

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9 Pt. 10 Pt. 11 Pt. 12

Good things don’t happen to Eddie Munson.

They just don’t.

His entire life up until the age of 18 has been a series of unfortunate events only rarely interspersed with positive occurrences: Wayne. His guitar. DnD.

So he knows from the beginning of whatever the hell this thing is with Steve, that at some point the other shoe will drop. Because boys like Steve Harrington do not fall in love with boys like Eddie Munson. And if they do, it certainly doesn’t last.

So when, on an otherwise near euphoric Saturday morning, Steve’s parents unexpectedly arrive home, Eddie thinks: this is it; this is where my sudden rash of good luck finally runs out.

Eddie realized early on that Steve’s parents were absent in a way that went past “absent” and veered into the territory of “neglect.” They show up once or twice a month for a few days, but thet’re never present in a way that parents should be for their child. The house is more of an item to check off a list than anything else––a place to call home in between travel, a place to keep the clothes they swap before departing again. Steve tries to play it off like he doesn’t care, like the empty magazine-pretty soulless house is a blessing––and it certainly has been recently considering the prefab walls of Wayne’s trailer do not prioritize privacy. But even if Steve genuinely doesn’t care now, no kid wants to be alone. 

Eddie thinks about a younger version of Steve. Sixteen. Fourteen. Twelve. Coming home to silence. No one asking about his day. Cooking himself dinner. Eating alone.

Steve had mentioned, offhand, that he used to have a nanny before he was too old to need one. Eddie hadn’t asked how old was too old for a caretaker. He was afraid the answer might break his heart. Because Steve tells stories sometimes that he thinks are funny. Stories about leaving the television on at night to trick himself into thinking someone else was there so he wouldn’t have nightmares. Stories about missing the bus and getting sick and learning how to do his laundry. They’re self-deprecating stories. Like it’s his fault he got lost when walking the four miles home from school because he had no one to call to pick him up. Like it’s his fault that his fever got so bad that he ended up sleeping naked on the cool tile of the kitchen floor because there was no Advil in the house and he was too sick to walk to the store. Like it was his fault he used too much detergent because no one had ever taught him otherwise.

Eddie takes those stories and tucks them away and thinks that, at least now, he can ensure Steve has someone. That he’ll never be stranded or sick or confused with no one to call for help again.

They do take  advantage of Steve’s parent’s absence. Eddie and Steve spend most Friday afternoons and weekends there, hosting the kids and their families: Steve cooking or Hopper and Wayne grilling, Eddie mostly getting in the way. And once summer break starts, they take turns staying at each other’s places. A couple days with Wayne, especially if there’s a sports game Steve and Wayne want to watch together, before a couple days at Steve’s house where they can feel free to…engage in their own athletic activities.

So. It’s a Saturday morning. After a slow, sweet, late-night Friday. The kind of Friday Eddie didn’t even know was possible, didn’t know he could hope for, until Steve came along.

They’re both in boxers and nothing else: Steve’s are covered in baseball bats—a gift from Max; Eddie’s are a plaid that is disconcertingly similar to the wallpaper in Steve’s room.

Eddie is sitting on the counter next to the bowl of batter Steve is dipping out of, trying to make pancake shapes and mostly failing. Eddie had done the first batch, which were nearly all dick-shaped, before Steve decided he should take over.

So now there are hearts and lopsided stars on the griddle being carefully monitored by Steve while Eddie has his battle jacket in his lap, finishing the final stitches on the back panel.

And while Steve pokes at the pancakes, Eddie is trying to convince Steve to re-join the basketball team.

This is what love has done to him.

“I don’t understand,” Steve is pouting. “You want me to quit Hellfire?”

“No, I’m saying that we can move Hellfire to a different night next year so you can do your sportsball shit and DnD.”

Eddie, unsurprisingly, is having to retake his senior year. He’s not that upset about it considering that means he’ll be graduating with his boyfriend. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley’s sudden determination that he graduate with good grades is a little concerning, but there are worse things in the world than being cared about by nerds.

“The basketball guys are all assholes,” Steve argues, hands on his hips. He looks like a dad at a soccer game, only more naked. It shouldn’t be hot. But Eddie has resigned himself to the fact that he finds Steve hot at all times, and distressingly so when he’s being bitchy or bossy, which are his default settings. 

“Yeah, but you’re better than most of them,” Eddie points out. “You’d be a shoe-in for captain. And if you aren’t on the team, Lucas said he probably won’t join when he gets to highschool. And,” the most important part, the part that Eddie really has had to come to terms with, “you love it. The way I love DnD. And I want you to do the things you love. Even if they’re with sweaty jocks. Who knows. Maybe you’ll even be a good influence and by the time Lucas gets there only half of them are assholes.”

Steve flips the pancakes. “You’d really move DnD for me?”

He’d do considerably more than that.

“Baby, I may not understand your freakish desire to participate in team sports but I’m not going to begrudge the joy it will bring you.”

Steve grins and it makes him look young. Lighter, somehow.

“What if I make new friends? What if I bring them to DnD? You sure you’re okay with sweaty jocks infiltrating your inner scrotum or whatever.”

“Inner sanctum,” Eddie corrects.

“That’s what I said.”

“It’s really not.”

Eddie is 85% sure Steve is fucking with him. He likes to lean into the dumb meathead stereotype, mostly, Eddie thinks, because people underestimate him, but now with the additional bonus that Steve knows it drives Eddie a little bit crazy. And Steve, for all of his excellent qualities, is a bit of bitch.

“That being said,” Eddie leers, “you can also infiltrate my inner––”

“Okay, okay,” Steve says. He pushes at one of Eddie’s knees so he can step between his legs. So he can drop a kiss to either side of his mouth before pushing further into his space, one hand on the back of his head, holding him steady when he brings their lips together.

“If it means so much to you, I’ll call the coach tomorrow,” Steve murmurs. “Summer training doesn’t start for a few more weeks. Should be plenty of time for me to get back in shape.”

“Ehn,” Eddie manages.

Steve looks pleased with himself when he steps back to the stove, stacking his finished stars and hearts untidily next to Eddie’s dicks.

He ladles out the final batch––circles, clearly their creativity has waned––as Eddie holds up the vest for a critical once-over.

“Done?” Steve asks.

“I think so.” Eddie holds it out accommodatingly. “I need to see it modeled to be certain.”

Steve discards the spatula and turns, feeding his arms through the sleeves. He tugs at the bottom with a considering pout.

“Well, give me a spin, pretty boy,” Eddie says.

Steve spins. He peacocks toward the patio doors and then back in what is probably supposed to be a mimicry of a runway walk but is mostly just ridiculous. He pauses, just before he’s in reach, and pretends to headbang over an air-guitar solo.

“What do you think?” He asks, shoving his hair out of his eyes and somehow managing to keep a straight face, “is it metal enough?”

“Except for the goddamn ABBA pin,” Eddie grouses, like he hadn’t been delighted when Steve gave it to him last week with a shit-eating grin.

Steve sways just close enough that Eddie can reach out and grab the lapels, reeling him back in. “Only one problem, though,” he sighs.

Steve’s expression immediately sobers. “What?”

“It looks too good on you. I might not want it back. Might just want you to wear it forever.”

Steve kisses him. “Joint custody?” He suggests.

“For an only child you are shockingly good at sharing,” Eddie agrees.

And then, the front door opens.

And a woman’s voice calls, “Steve?

And Steve’s hands, cupped around Eddie’s hips, go tight before he releases them and steps back. Away.

“Mom?” He answers, looking lost.

“Steve, honey, come help me with this,” she answers, backgrounded by a jingle of keys and the clack of roller-suitcase wheels.

Eddie slides down off the counter to his feet and then just––stands there. Half-naked and wide-eyed and with a well of despair quickly drowning the quiet happiness that had previously filled his chest. And he thinks: this is it; this is where my sudden rash of good luck finally runs out.

There’s no making it up the stairs without passing through the front room. No way to get to the garage, either. He considers, briefly, just going out the back door, near-nudity be damned, but Steve must clock what he’s thinking and reaches out, grabbing his wrist.

“Did you mean it?” Steve whispers.

Two weeks before, they’d driven out to the quarry, laid a quilt on the hood of the beemer, and shared a smoke and a series of lazy kisses while looking at the stars.

“I don’t mean to be a downer,” Steve had said contemplatively, his fingers moving aimlessly through Eddie’s hair. “But this happy bubble that we’re in isn’t going to last. We should probably talk about what happens when it…” he paused, brow furrowed adorably with the deep concentration of someone stoned. “...pops.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, not following.

“The kids and Hop and Wayne knowing about us and being so cool about it––that’s not how my parents will react, when they find out.”

“When,” Eddie repeated.

“They will,” Steve had said, half resigned, half something else. He says it with confidence, maybe. Or maybe even pride. “Because if we keep spending all this time together one of the neighbors will mention it to my mom, or someone will see us too close in the grocery store and tell my Dad. Or they’ll show up unannounced one day to find us skinny dipping in the pool. And I’m not going to stop spending time with you, so. It’ll happen.”

“Okay,” Eddie repeated, understanding.

“So when that happens,” Steve said, “do you want me to deny it? And we start being more careful. Or do I give them an honest answer and probably get disowned? Frankly I’d rather do the latter but I know the house is a perk. Not just for us but for the kids. For everyone.”

“You think your parents might get violent?” Eddie asked.

Steve’s fingers went still in his hair. “My dad, maybe. I can handle him, though. If I have to.”

Eddie hated the look on his face. 

“You’d be willing to give up the house and the money and everything?”

“Money won’t be an issue. The car’s title is in my name and I’ve been building a nice cushion in my savings account. Not planning to be cut off or anything but…”

“Just in case,” Eddie supplied.

“Just in case,” Steve agreed. “The problem is that it could cause a lot of trouble for you. And I’m not eighteen yet in this timeline, so getting an apartment or something would be––”

“I love trouble,” Eddie interrupted, crossing his fingers and holding them up, “Trouble and I are like this. And obviously you’d move in with us until the end of the school year. Of course you’d move in with us. We’ve got two bedrooms in the new place and Wayne thinks the sun shines out your ass and he doesn’t try to make me watch sports with him anymore when you’re around. You might have to cut down your hair routine in the mornings, though, if we’re all sharing a bathroom on school days.”

Steve had laughed and kissed him, which was the response Eddie was angling for, and they’d settled back to continue their star gazing and Eddie hadn’t thought about it much since except for occasionally at night, on the rare nights when he wasn’t with Steve. And even then he only thought about it abstractly. Living together for real. Waking up together every morning. Making breakfast. Getting to touch Steve whenever the whim hit him. It’s too soon. And they’re too young. And it would be a huge inconvenience at best and actively dangerous at worst if other people like his parents were to find out. 

But they’re careful when they’re in public. And Steve’s folks are never there and Eddie hadn’t thought––well he hadn’t been certain how serious Steve was, anyway, when they’d had that conversation.

Now, standing in the kitchen, listening to Steve’s mom enter the house, he can’t reconcile the question Steve’s now asking with the reality of the situation. Standing in the Harrington kitchen at the six-burner stove, surrounded by top-of-the-line appliances, while the water from the pool outside reflects sun through the double glass patio doors. No way Steve would give up all of this for––

“Eddie,” Steve whispers urgently.

“Yeah,” Eddie exhales. “I meant it.” He did. He does.

“Then call Hopper,” he says lowly. “Get him over here. Just in case”

And then he’s walking confidently into the front room.

Eddie reaches for the phone.

“What,” Hopper snarls after the third ring. “It’s my day off.”

“It’s Eddie,” Eddie whispers. “Steve’s parents got back early and––”

Hopper's voice abruptly loses its sleepy fuzziness. “Are you safe?”

“They haven’t seen me yet. But they’re going to. And it’s––they’ll know. And Steve isn’t going to deny it.”

“Five minutes.”

“Thanks, Hop.”

He hangs up the phone and, with one last, reluctant, look at the back porch doors, he walks around the corner into the front room.

Steve’s dad, wrestling a bag over the threshold, glances up at his entrance and goes still.

Steve, helping his mom collapse the handle of her suitcase, carefully moves to place himself between his father and Eddie.

Suddenly, all the little noises from before stop. Eddie watches as Robert Harrington’s attention moves from Steve’s inarguably defensive stance, to Eddie and Steve’s combined lack of clothing, to the riot of Steve’s hair and the red of his lips. From the tattoos on Eddie’s arms and his ribs to the mouth-shaped bruises that sit like a possessive necklace at the base of his throat. His gaze moves back to linger on the vest Steve is still wearing.

“Steven,” his father says.

“Dad,” Steve answers levelly. “I didn’t expect you for two more days.”

“Clearly. What’s happening here?”

“Are you sure you want me to answer that?” Steve says. “Because once I say it, I can’t take it back. Once I say it, we can’t pretend anymore.”

“Pretend,” his mother starts with a flighty little laugh. “I don’t understand.”

Steve is still looking at his dad. 

“Steven,” Robert Harrington says.

“Ok, then,” Steve says. His voice is low and firm and devastatingly certain. “This is Eddie. My boyfriend.”

Steve’s mother sits, abruptly, on the couch, still clinging to her luggage.

“No,” Robert Harrington says.

Steve laughs, a huff of a thing with raised eyebrows and a disbelieving shake of his head. “I did give you the option of ignorance,” he says. “You didn’t take it.”

He glances behind him, meets Eddie's eyes with a crooked, if sad, grin, and nods toward the stairs. “You wanna grab your stuff? I think we’re probably going to be kicked out here in a minute.”

Eddie does not want to leave Steve alone, but Eddie also does not want to be nearly naked under the baleful gaze of Robert Harrington anymore. He gives Steve a look that is meant to convey ‘yell if you need me,’ and he goes upstairs.

It takes less than a minute for him to pull on his clothes from the night before and he laces his boots on the landing at the top of the stairs, ears straining to overhear the muffled conversation occuring downstairs. There’s a lot of swearing coming from Steve’s dad and maybe some restrained sobs coming from Steve’s mother but it doesn’t sound like Steve needs help. So Eddie shoves the rest of his stuff from the bathroom counter and the nightstand into his backpack and then pulls open Steve’s top dresser drawer to pick some clothes for him. One of his own shirts is front and center and it’s purely for expediency that he tosses it onto the bed, following it with a pair of jeans, socks, and a jacket.

And then––

Then he goes downstairs.

The voices are getting louder, not just due to proximity.

Eddie pauses, just for a moment as he descends the last few steps, assessing the situation. Steve’s dad is in Steve’s face, hissing something about disgust and embarrassment and Steve’s mother is crying about knowing they were leaving him alone too much which Eddie thinks is rich. He might be shit at school but even he knows that correlation doesn't equal causation. If neglectful parents were the only requirement for homosexuality, gay marriage would probably be legal and politicians opposing it would only have themselves to blame.

“I can make you a list of house stuff you’ll need to deal with,” Steve is saying with an aloofness that has to come from the few extra years he’s lived, tucked secretly behind his too-young face. “You’ll need to hire a pool company and lawn service, to start. And there’s a guy who’s coming to look at the gutters next Tuesday, so you’ll need to reschedule that since I’m assuming you aren’t staying that long.”

Eddie goes to the kitchen. He turns off the stove, bins the final, now blackened, batch of pancakes and loads up the rest––dicks, stars, hearts––into a tupperware. He tucks that into his bag, has a brief argument with the zipper, and then returns to the sitting room.

“The only place you’re going,” Steve’s father is snarling, “is someplace they can fix this.”

“That’s not one of the options I gave you,” Steve says patiently. “Either you let me stay and you get to keep pretending I’m whatever you want me to be, or I move out and I make it clear to anyone who asks that I don’t consider myself a Harrington anymore. Your choice.”

“There’s a place in California,” Steve’s dad says. “Harriet, where was it that Marge sent her son?”

Steve’s mom just continues to clutch her luggage and sob.

“We’ll sort it out on Monday,” he continues. “You can spend the summer there and be back before your junior year. And you––” he points at Eddie, you will leave and you will not associate with my son anymore. God knows what you’ve put in his head––”

“Senior year, dad,” Steve sighs. “I just finished my junior year. And I was the one that seduced Eddie. If that matters to you.”

“It’s true,” Eddie says, summoning a brashness he does not at all feel. “I was there.”

“Harriet,” Robert shouts. “Stop crying and go find the number of that place in California.”

“No point,” Steve says evenly. “I already said I won’t go.”

“You’re my son. You’ll do whatever the hell I tell you to do.”

“No,” Steve repeats, like he’s talking to an obstinate child. “I’m not. And I won’t.”

“Yes you fucking will, or––”

The doorbell rings.

Everyone goes still for several seconds until it rings a second time, accompanied by a brusque knock. Steve’s dad mutters a string of expletives under his breath and goes to answer it.

It’s only when Eddie hears Hopper's voice saying, “Robert, I didn’t know you were in town,” that Eddie finally feels like he can take a full breath.

He thinks, absently, that his intense relief at the arrival of the chief of police is more than a little hilarious, considering the same chief of police has arrested him on more than one occasion. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though.

“We just got back,” Steve’s dad says. He’s only cracked the door enough to speak to Hopper, trying to shield Steve and Eddie from view.

“That’d explain it, then,” Hopper says. “The boys invited me over for some breakfast before we go on our weekend fishing trip.” He raises his voice, “Pancakes or waffles this morning, boys?”

“Pancakes,” Steve calls. 

“Fishing trip,” Robert Harrington says.

“A-yup,” Hopper says, hooking one thumb in his belt. “Steve said he was interested in learning and obviously Eddie volunteered to join.”

“Obviously,” Robert Harrington says. 

“Joined at the hip, those two,” Hopper continues. “Nice to see.”

“Is it.”

“Anyhow, are they about ready?”

“We need to finish packing a few things up,” Steve calls. “You want to come in and help? I don’t know what pants would be best.”

Hopper steps forward and Steve’s dad grudgingly opens the door enough to admit him.

“Good grief,” Hop says, taking in Steve’s appearance. “I should have known you wouldn’t be ready on time.” He casts a critical eye over Eddie. “At least you’re dressed. Come on, you two, let's go. We’re burning daylight.”

***

Twenty minutes later, they pull up in front of the trailer and Hopper parks his truck with two suitcases of Steve’s stuff in the bed next to Steve’s beemer. 

Before Eddie can get out of the car, before Hopper can even get the tailgate down on the truck, Steve is hugging Hopper with nearly the same desperation that he hugged Robin in the hallway all those months before.

He’d been so calm at his house, methodical as he packed his bags, reserved but steady as he drove them back to the park.

But now he’s got his arms wrapped around Hopper, hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, head ducked, just enough, so Hopper can tuck Steve under his chin and hold him back. Now, he’s––he looks like a kid whose parents just confirmed their love had limits.

And Eddie aches for him.

He can’t help but think about Wayne’s careful, leading, assertions. His stories about his gay friend in Indy. His belief that people ought to live and let live. His enjoyment of queer musical artists and his constant, constant reminders that he would love Eddie no matter what. That his love was not transactional or conditional and that even if Eddie said he didn’t want it, he’d always have it. No matter what.

Eddie wishes, so much, that Steve had a Wayne.

Then again, he thinks, watching Hopper’s mouth move against Steve’s year, watching him holding Steve back just as tight, if Wayne has taught Eddie anything it’s that you get to choose your family, if you want. You’re not stuck with the ones you’re given. 

Wayne comes out the door, looking confused, and Steve wrenches himself away, busies himself with pulling out his bags while dragging the back of his arm across his eyes.

Hopper steps up to the porch and has barely said a dozen words to Wayne before Wayne stopping across the yard and pulling Steve into a hug too and––

Oh.

Eddie is going to need a moment.

“Hop,” Wayne says over Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you. For bringing my boys back safe and sound.”

Eddie is not going to cry. He’s not. 

He might. Just a little.

“Sure,” Hopper says. “You let me know if they cause any trouble.”

For once, Eddie is pretty sure the “they” Hop is referring to is not, in fact, Steve and Eddie.

“Will do. You want to stay for breakfast?”

“We brought the pancakes with us,” Steve says wetly.

“I might stay for some pancakes,” Hopper muses. “What kind?”

“Uh,” Eddie says. “Blueberry. But fair warning, about half of them are dick-shaped.”

Hopper squints at him. “What other shape options are there?”

“Hearts and stars.”

“I’ll take stars,” he says.

“Hearts,” Wayne says.

“Done,” Eddie agrees.

He and Hopper each grab one of Steve’s bags from the truck and Wayne pulls away from Steve only so he can open the door. He keeps a hand on the back of Steve’s neck as he leads them inside and Eddie follows with so much love in his chest that he feels buoyant. 

“We’ll take care of it, kid,” Hopper murmurs behind him. “It’ll be okay.”

And Eddie believes him. 

***

Tag list:

@perfectlysensiblenonsense @stxrcrossed186 @mushie8123 @starlight-archer @estrellami-1 @snowstar2368 @superfanne @starlight-archer @child-of-cthulhu @djohawke @zerokrox-blog @alwayscertainwasteland @brie-luna @sharingisntkaren @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @deadfromtheneckdown @y4r3luv @manda-panda-monium @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlprocastinator100

[therogueheart]

Familial | Evan Buckley & Bobby Nash

Relationship(s): Evan Buckley & Bobby Nash | Background Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rating: Gen Warnings: N/A

“Well, well, well, how the tables have turned.”

Buck flopped into the chair with a grin, all long legs and dark smudges under his eyes that betrayed his light mood.

“Is this where you lecture me on safety and tell me I’m benched for the next month?” Bobby croaked, turning his head with a tired smile. Buck looked down, scuffing his heels on the floor and shrugging.

“Nah. I’ve never been on that side of the lecture. I wouldn’t do it as good,” the kid smiled. “Besides. Doc said six weeks minimum, that’s longer than a month.”

“So it is,” Bobby agreed. He took a moment to observe Buck, to note the way he clenched his fingers around the chair arms, the torn skin on his lips and the way his hair lay in rampant curls, free of its usual pomade.

“When did you last sleep?” he asked, reaching for his water.

“I slept,” Buck answered, launching forwards to grab the glass and pass it over. Bobby took it with a patient, bemused smile.

“Uh huh. When?”

“Within the last three days,” Buck hummed vaguely. Bobby squinted at him but knew a losing fight when he saw one, so he dropped his sword with dignity.

“That for me?”

On his beside was a bundle of flowers, an ornate cross pinned in their midst and a lopsided teddy bear with a stuffed heart proclaiming get well soon, Dad!

Dad.

His heart ached, a deep, innermost pain different to the rest. Buck’s cheeks had flushed now, one knee bouncing where nerves had begun to stack like building blocks.

“Nah. They’re for the other guy,” Buck answered, even though Bobby had found himself in a private room. He gave a low hum and finally sipped his water, letting Buck set the glass down when he was done.

“Not that I’m expecting a parade–but where are the others?”

“Eddie bullied Athena into going home to eat something and shower. Hen and Chim are on B-shift, Eddie’s dropping Chris off at Abuela’s.”

Abuela’s. Not his Abuela’s. Just Abuela’s. Bobby fought off a weak smile, relaxing back against his pillow. He could’ve slept again, except a poorly stifled sniffle cut through the quietness.

“Buck?” he rolled over, catching Buck as he hastily tried to wipe his eyes. He was crying, Bobby realized, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Hey, hey. C’mere. We’re both okay.”

He opened his arms and after a moment of uncertainty his youngest pushed himself up, tripping across the room and folding that mile-long body onto the edge of the bed and into Bobby’s arms. He smelt like old aftershave and faded laundry detergent and the tar that masqueraded as coffee in the hospital cafeteria. 

It was a tight fit and he had no idea how Buck had managed to tuck his legs up so tight, but Bobby clutched at him all the same, petting through his hair and murmuring low comforts. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Buck hiccuped after a while, fingers twisting in the front of Bobby’s hospital gown. “I didn’t mean to cry. You're hurt and I’m making you take care of me, and—”

“Nobody could make me take care of you, Buck,” Bobby interrupted, scuffing him gently upside the head. “I do it because I want to. Because I’d do it anyway. I’m glad you’re here, and I’m glad I’ve got an excuse to hug you.”

Because Bobby had learned not to take hugging his loved ones for granted over the years. He’d learned that any and every hug could be the last. Not least; he’d learned that Buck had barely been hugged at all aside from Maddie, and if the Buckley parents weren’t going to step up then Bobby damn well would.

“You don’t need an excuse,” Buck sniffled, clutching him tighter. And no, Bobby didn’t. But Buck still had issues with asking for what he needed and if Bobby could ease that burden he would, as he’d ease all their ills.

“I’m an old man who likes to cling to his kids. Indulge me, spring chicken,” he murmured, movement in the doorway catching his eye. It was Athena, her expression soft and unguarded when she saw them, and when she met his gaze she pressed a finger to her lips and backed away with a smile.

How he adored her.

“I thought I lost you,” Buck rasped, shifting. And then; “don’t ever do that again!” in his best impression of Bobby’s ‘stern captain dad’ voice, as Buck called it. 

(And now, too, Eddie, because where Buck led Eddie followed.)

"Ain't gonna make no promises," Bobby managed in a poor imitation of Buck, though his voice ached with held back tears.

God, he loved this kid. He loved all his kids, of course, but there was something innate about Buck that brought out the paternal urge to protect and guide within him.

“You don’t have the right kind of Penny twang,” Buck snuffed, but some of the sorrow had lifted from him as he carefully tucked an edge of the pale blue blanket tighter around Bobby’s ribs.

“I can’t be good at everything,” Bobby shrugged ruefully, pursing his lips. And then, because it had to be said; “Buck. I know you’re blaming yourself. I want you to know none of this is on you. No blame, no responsibility, nothing.”

Buck’s face twisted.

“Don’t make me call Athena,” Bobby warned, and smiled when Buck abruptly dropped the brewing argument. Not for long, he was sure. Guilt had a way of sticking to Buck, but they could work on it.

“Now.” Petting at Buck’s arm, he turned a fond gaze to the ceiling. “Tell me how long you and Eddie have been dating in secret.”

Buck spluttered so hard Bobby was grateful they were already in a hospital.

“We’re not—!”

“I was dying, kid. Not blind. I saw that kiss.”

[atrwriting]

chapter twelve: the wolf and the dragon (modern!gangleader!aemond x barowner!you)

as always, warnings: no smut, aemond and you are at each other's throats, mentions of death and violence, listen aemond is an asshole in this chapter ok steer clear but also dont lmao

....chapter twelve:

“eat.”

a plate was slammed down on the coffee table.

“piss off,” you spat.

“i said eat.”

“and i said piss off.”

that is how it has been since aegon left. aemond was attempting to tend to you, but you refused any and all sort of help. you lay planted on the couch, curled around yourself, shying away from the already dim light.

“your anger towards me should not keep you from eating,” he seethed. “then you’d die because of spite towards me, and you would lose.”

“this isn’t a game to me, aemond,” you retorted. “you can’t lose if you refuse to play.”

“you’re insufferable,” he spat, falling back into the chair again. “tell me what will make you see reason.”

“you taking anger management classes.”

“i already said—“

“you said you were wrong, yes, but what does that do for me?” you cried. “i don’t need an apology. they’re useless, especially coming from you when you’ll just do the same thing again.”

“i wouldn’t do that to you again,” he spat. “i shouldn’t have put my hands on you, and i know that — luke — just —“

“that doesn’t make it okay, aemond,” your voice was soft, not because you felt sympathy for him, but because you were tired.

“i deserved everything you said to me,” he replied. “you received the brunt of my anger towards my sister and her kids.”

“i know,” you sighed. “what did lucerys even do?”

“it doesn’t matter.”

“tell me,” you demanded. “he was in my bar before he fucking died, aemond. with you. i deserve to know.”

“nothing,” he spoke. “he did nothing.”

“you don’t get mad over nothing,” you spat. “even i know that."

but he didn't answer you. you thought he never would.

* * *

you drifted into sleep engulfed by the sweet smell of the laundry detergent you only used for your sheets. your favorite blanket was curled around you, your head was on the exact pillow that always brought you the best rest, and you were in your favorite pajamas. nothing could compare to that level of comfort.

except when the throbbing of your headache came back.

and you remembered putting on those pajamas, but not how you got into bed.

then you realized: someone carried you to bed.

you swallowed thickly and sighed in frustration. you hated being touched when you weren’t conscious, as would anyone.

in spite of the splitting headache, you rose to your feet and wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. you could hear distant sounds of a television on in the living room, and your curiosity got the best of you. with quiet feet and lips, you padded out of your bedroom and into the living room.

aemond sat on your couch stiffly as if he was a stranger to unwinding on the couch, let alone any comfort at all. he had removed his eyepatch and left it on the table, probably assuming he would be alone for the night. his neck was resting on top of the back cushion of the couch and one hand rested on one of his spread knees. his chest was bare, and the television cast shadows along all of the taut muscles of his abdomen and upper body. gray sweats hung low on his hips, and his free hand played with the string of his pants.

you had seen him without his eyepatch, clothes on, the works… but you had never seen his hair hanging loose around him.

people thought the most intimidating thing about aemond was his eyepatch and abrasive nature, but that man never entered a public space without an elastic pulling back the front pieces of his hair. targaryens were known for their long, silver hair, and they were proud of it, but aemond rarely was allowed to keep unruly locks in his face like his brother. he needed to see what was in front of him.

“i’m still mad at you,” you whispered groggily, approaching the corner.

he didn’t move. aemond’s gaze remained on the television.

“i didn’t think otherwise.”

you swallowed. “but i would like to watch television.”

he didn’t even shrug. “it’s your living room.”

unlike him, you were no stranger to comfort. you pushed yourself as far away from him as possible so you could curl up into a ball and rest your head against the armrest of the couch. the bright light of the television hurt your head, so you scrunched your eyes closed and pushed your face further into the pillow.

the time passed like this for a few moments. the night had brought so many events… you needed to catch your breath, and for some reason that was sitting silently with aemond. it shouldn’t have been, but it was.

“i know the lights are hurting you,” he rasped. “i put you in the bedroom for a reason.”

“like you said: it’s my living room.”

he hummed. you figured he would leave it at that, but he didn’t… and you could hear his reluctant and uncomfortable thought process in his next words. “it was wrong of me to put my hands on you like i did... and threaten you. i know you won’t believe me until you see it, but it won’t happen again.”

you swallowed. “i’ve never seen you like that.”

“i’m sorry you were there to witness… the short comings of my family. you received the brunt of it, and that was not fair.”

“your cousin is dead, aemond,” you ventured. “you saw him die. you were there.”

he turned his face towards you, raising it so it was no longer laying against the couch. “it’s not like i wanted it to happen the way it did.”

“he was just a kid, aemond…” you spoke.

“he’s barely four years my junior,” he spat. “and i was a kid when he took my eye.”

“i never said it wasn’t wrong what he did to you,” you attempted to diffuse the situation.

“and i never said i needed you to,” he retorted.

your teeth sank into your bottom lip. “did you want him dead?”

“not by my hand,” he bit.

“are you happy he’s dead?”

no words left aemond’s mouth. you would’ve turned around to address the situation, but before you could you felt a small bit of wind brush past you, into the hallway, and it was followed by a door slamming.

great, you sighed.

over the next hour, you tried to get sleep but failed miserably. it usually wasn’t difficult for you to sleep during the day, but the fight with aemond was on your mind. it shouldn’t have been, and you shouldn’t have felt guilty, but you couldn’t deny that you would’ve reacted the same way as aemond if the roles were reversed.

but the roles would never be reversed, because i would never place myself in a situation like that, you countered yourself.

some of us don’t get the privilege to pick what situations were placed in, you heard aemond’s voice in your head.

fuck.

you didn’t like how the two sides of the situation battled within your already aching head. on one hand, aemond was a dick who physically and verbally assaulted you. on the other hand, he was also a victim.

but he was someone else’s victim.

he made you a victim when he put his hands on you.

his victim.

he could lock himself in your bedroom for days, weeks, months… didn’t matter, as long as he promised to rot in there.

* * *

aegon had swung by later while you were sleeping. his loud demeanor caused you to stir awake, but he shushed you back to sleep before plopping food down on the table. having a third person there brought you some comfort, but as soon as you were about to sit up, aegon left through the door. your jaw tightened at the sight.

aemond came out quickly after he heard the door open. his face fell the same way when he saw that aegon was no longer in the room.

“did he say anything before he left?” he asked.

“no,” you replied. “is that good or bad?”

he didn’t respond.

he pulled out some food from the bag and handed it to you.

“i will shove this down your throat in the most respectful manner i can manage if you don’t eat,” he stated.

you rolled your eyes before taking the sandwich. “how gentlemanly of you, prince aemond.”

he sat down on the chair next to you and opened his own sandwich. “i’m not leaving until you finish that entire thing.”

you threw your hands up in resignation. “what do you care, aemond? i’m staying out of you way like you wanted, and for my own good. plus, you’d probably find some way to get the bar if i starved to death. you don’t exactly lose in this situation.”

“you’re being too emotional,” he stated plainly.

you scoffed. “do not dismiss me, especially with sexist reasoning. i have every right to express how i feel about how you, your brother, and the rest of your family have disrupted my life.”

“hmm.”

there wasn’t enough emotion from him and that’s what pissed you off. how could he just sit there, not even angrily defending himself or his family? how could he be so reserved when there was so much at stake?

you immediately got to your feet and began to stalk away. “you’re unbelievable.”

aemond stood up and grabbed you by the arm. “don’t walk away from me.”

you tried to shake his arm off but he wouldn’t budge. “let go of me, aemond. now.”

he didn’t move. “i told you to eat. you are going to eat."

your eye bags and hair were probably crazy, your pajamas were ruffled, and your head was begging you to lay back down… but you couldn’t take it anymore. your frustration and sadness were bubbling up somewhere deep inside you and you couldn’t control it.

“what has gotten into you?” you asked. “i’ve never pushed your boundaries. ever. yet ever since we hooked up, you treat me horribly. what did i do to you?”

he responded too quickly, and too emotionless. “nothing.”

you scoffed. “you don’t act like that over nothing, aemond. you claim i don’t know you, and maybe that’s true, but i know one thing: you do not scorn someone unless they scorned you.”

“is that what got you off, princess?” he spat. “me fucking you? or you getting under my skin?”

you scrunched your eyebrows together as your lips parted in a broken ‘o’ shape. your eyes searched his for something, anything, but there was nothing. not even that blue sapphire in his eye socket offered you anything. hard like stone, just like him.

“don’t have to worry about that anymore,” you whispered, standing up and wrapping the blanket around your shoulders. “i almost asked you if you were okay after what happened with your cousin… but now i realize i truly don’t care.”

there was no venom in your voice like your usual bickerings with aemond. you were exhausted, mentally and physically. tightening the blanket around your shoulders did nothing to offer you comfort, and suddenly you realized you would probably be a stranger to it the remainder of the night as well.

you crawled into bed and tried to find the comfort you were missing in the sheets, but soon your limbs were tangled in the mess and it only made frustrated gasps leave your lips. you kicked at the sheets, throwing them off of you, before the cold air met the scorched skin of your legs. despite the fact that you were overheating, you refused to give up your blanket. your head was pounding, you were hot, and it felt like you could cry.

but then you heard a knock on the door.

you accidentally ignored it because you were frozen in place.

you heard a second.

“fuck off,” you muttered.

you were faced away from the door and didn’t bother looking when it opened. you knew it would be the handsome, shirtless asshole that once made his lair your living room.

“i brought you ibuprofen,” he rasped. “and water.”

“please fuck off,” you replied simply. “i have some.”

he walked over to your nightstand, on the same side of the bed as where you lay. he placed the items down on the table and sat down on your side of the bed. there were a few inches between the two of you, but the closeness made a shiver run up and down your spine.

“i regret hurting you,” he began. “and i regret my actions after we were intimate.”

“my head hurts too much for a heart-to-heart, aemond,” you grumbled. “but i’m being honest when i say this — you ever touch me like that again, i will gut you. i mean it.”

“i’m aware, but — please, just… you don’t need to say anything. i just need you to listen, okay?”

you sighed, closing your eyes. “okay.”

“i had never… done that before. with someone that i knew… saw everyday… and also cared for,” he admitted.

he avoided your eye contact as he stared at the floor. his legs were spread as he rested his forearms on his strong thighs, hands clasped. his spine was bent like that of an angel, ready to take flight, or a dragon… ready to burn everything to the ground with one muscle.

“you’re mean to people you care for?” you scoffed. “what’re you, in third grade?”

his head turned to you. even in the bit of moonlight that shown through the window, you could see him glare at you.

you lightly chuckled. “you deserved that.”

he clenched his jaw as he returned his gaze on the floor. “my actions deserve that and more, actually.”

“no pity parties,” you quipped. “they’re uncomfortable. if you’re really sorry, you won’t say it. you’ll just never do it again, and if you’re really, really sorry — you’ll make it up to them.”

“you’re right,” he settled. “how can i make it up to you?”

you swallowed. “i want to have a conversation about lucerys.”

he scoffed. “with my money and power, you could have everything you want, yet… you ask for that; the one thing i really don’t want to do.”

you scrunched your eyebrows. “i have my own money, thanks. if you were really sorry, aemond… you’d have a real, honest, and calm conversation about what happened tonight.”

he smacked his tongue against the back of his teeth before turning to you. he clenched his jaw before asking, “what do you want to know?”

you swallowed. “start with what you’re comfortable telling me.”

“i didn’t mean to let it get this far…” he began. “i hated him so much… but i didn’t want him to die. at least… not like this. people i care for are now at risk because of me.”

he didn’t say anything for a few moments, so you piped up. “i’m not defending you, but from a legal standpoint… lucerys showed as much negligence as you did. in fact, probably more; he was in a car, and you were on a motorcycle. he wasn’t really defending himself if he’s hitting your motorcycle with his car. you antagonized the fight… but he could have easily called his mother, daemon, the police… anyone, and then blame you for the damage done to his car. i gave the kid a head start, he didn’t do what he should’ve done with it.”

“don’t defend me,” he spat. “he’s dead because of me.”

you sighed. “you’re right, but if you wanted him dead — actually dead — you would’ve shot him point blank a long time ago. you’re ruthless, aemond… but you’re not sloppy when you want someone dead.”

“you think rhaenyra will believe that?” he scoffed. “daemon? there’s a price on my head now, and that of my family.”

it was your turn to scoff. “they’re fucking hypocrites, aemond. i know you know that.”

he stared at you for a long time after you said your words. when he didn’t move an inch, expressionless, a dip in the middle of your brow showed off your confusion and apprehension to his lack of a response. his lips parted in a way where he possibly meant to say something, but you weren’t sure.

“what?” you asked.

“no one’s ever… said that,” he admitted. “no one’s ever really… condemned them for that. been loyal to me… when they didn’t have to.”

“yeah, i could tell,” you sighed. “especially after your dickhead manifesto in the bathroom the night where aegon got sick.”

“i didn’t…” he trailed off, searching your face for the answer. “i didn’t know how to… respond. you were just so… willing to help, always. i didn’t understand why. you don’t even speak to your family… i couldn’t understand why you would want a part in mine, let alone why i should trust you with it.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “family doesn’t mean automatic loyalty and love, aemond. you of all people should know that.”

he didn’t respond, contemplating your words.

“i left my family because i would rather be alone than beg for common decency from people that brought me into this world,” you spat. “i choose who gets to be in my life now.”

he swallowed. “i used to think it was disloyal and careless of you to leave your family. now it seems like it was for survival.”

you clenched your jaw. “add psychoanalysis to the top ten things i hate.”

“i meant…” he trailed off. “i meant to say i rejected your affection because i didn’t think you knew what loyalty was. now… i realize i was wrong.”

“bit insulting you ever questioned it,” you grumbled. “what a shitty reason to hurl as many insults my way as you did that night…”

“i said horrible, untrue things about you,” he admitted. “i didn’t understand how someone who asked nothing of my brother or i could go out of your way for us as much as you did. i’ve never been so caught off guard in my life.”

“i didn’t verbally say what i wanted, but it was there,” you stated.

“what do you want?” he quipped.

“i liked having you and aegon around, even if you both were annoying sometimes,” you sighed. “and i wanted to talk about… that night…”

“okay,” he simply stated, much like that night.

you clenched your jaw. “i know you’re capable of more than one word, aemond.”

“what do you want me to say?” he demanded. “it was good? i believe i already made that quite clear —“

“you’ve being an ass,” you spat. “it was just meaningless sex to you?”

he swallowed. “i assumed it was for you?”

“don’t answer my question with a question,” you retorted.

“i didn’t-“

“yes you did-“

"no, i didn't-"

"aemond, you did-"

“i already told you what it was,” he spat.

“when?!” you demanded, dumbfounded.

he sighed. “i never did that with someone i… cared for before.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “define care.”

“don’t make me spell it out,” he gritted.

“forgive me if i need clarity, from ‘one sentence’ aemond,” you spat.

he grunted. “you are so insufferable that i don’t know how i enjoy your company.”

“you suck at clarifying,” you spat. “thank the gods you’re a scary, all black wearing, motorcycle driving, gangleader and not a-“

he interrupted you by throwing his hands down on the bed in resignation. “oh, for fuck’s sake—“

he leaned forward abruptly and smashed your lips together.

you accidentally let out a small squeak from buried in your throat at the intrusion.

never in a million years did you think aemond targaryen would raise one hand to rest on your cheek as his lips enveloped yours. your lips were frozen against his as they molded perfectly to fit yours. at the last moment… you leaned in and kissed him back. you matched his passion, his sense of urgency, and his desperate want for you against him.

after a moment, he pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours. you both were breathing heavily, letting each other’s breaths fan across the other’s face. his hand still rested against your cheek where his thumb rubbed small paths against your skin.

“clear enough for you?” he asked.

“you’re so fucking mean to me, aemond,” your voice cracked as you leaned your forehead against his. “you hurt me so badly.”

“let me take the pain away from you, sweetheart.”

[kedsandtubesocks]

even when you bare your fangs, you’re reminded he is the strongest…

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Wait, are you crying?” Gojo’s voice is amused, colored an almost playful tickled pink and it makes venom pool in your mouth.

He had simply show up in your shared apartment, a blink of an entrance that caught you off guard. Thankfully you had managed to shove a few tears aside and not give him your full attention. Gojo had rattled on and on about his trip for about five minutes without even missing a beat. He prattled like a noisy cat as you tried your best to keep yourself busy. You can’t even remember what he said. All his words couldn’t break through your brain fog and even if they did they might have gotten lost on you anyway.

“No.” You reply as composed as you can, breathing in and out to keep yourself level.

“You’re a bad liar.” He teases bright.

More tears cloud your eyes now. It’s frustrating, trying to deal with him when he gets this way on top of having your emotions running high.

You stay quiet and now start to put away dishes, ignoring him.

“Aw, the silent treatment. Didn’t think you’d play this game.” Now annoyance leaks into his voice and for some reason it breaks you.

“Is everything just a joke to you?” You snap vicious and mean. You whip your face to him as poison soaks through your veins. The anger tastes bitter and infects you fast.

“Look, I had a bad day and I’m upset.” You seethe.

“And you’re here being ridiculous, making jokes and I just need…” You don’t even know what you need. Maybe a lot of things, maybe not enough. But the words clog your throat and you simply glare hard at the blindfolded sorcerer.

“What do you need?” Now Gojo asks with all the level calm and seriousness you’ve heard during missions.

So many options rush in your head.

Stop laughing, go away, don’t leave, talk to me, just stay silent- All collective clusters of too many thoughts that you can’t sort though.

“I don’t know.” You admit through a tear soaked and frustrated voice that cracks.

In a blink a presence emerges besides you. The scent of your laundry detergent that he happily steals, the faintest hint of his body wash that smells of cedar and sandalwood, all of it swirls around you. You deflate and Gojo is there to draw you into his arms with the tenderest touch.

“You don’t have to tell me…” Now it’s Satoru, your boyfriend, speaking. His tone is soft, delicate, reserved only for you. You’ve heard in the middle of the night when he’s come back from missions, when he sheds his godlike mask and shows his true form - a man who simply loves you.

“You don’t even have to know what happened or what you want to do, just…don’t shut me out okay?” Satoru’s voice comforts you softer than you’ve ever heard. “I’m pretty strong ya know? Let me shoulder whatever’s troubling you, even if it’s just for a little bit.”

Your squeeze your eyes hard as hot tears sting fierce but now your arms unravel from your side to wrap around him. Satoru takes this opportunity to immediately clutch onto you tight.

He lets you cry and cry in his embrace until you’re eventually tired out sighing against him.

“I’m sorry I laughed and teased you.” You’re thankful he apologizes.

“It’s okay.” You reply back through messy sniffles.

“You just look so cute that pissed off.” The grin in his voice makes you dryly glare up at him.

“Kidding.” Satoru grins toothy. When you roll your eyes he simply leans down and kisses the top of your head and it simmers you down.

“I can start making dinner for us if you like?” Satoru offers innocently and sweet and his words ignite dread in your body.

“No,” you cough out. “I want to eat tonight thank you.”

“Rude!” He scoffs mock upset. “I’m a great chef!”

“You burnt popcorn and instant ramen to the point the smoke alarm went off and the styrofoam melted.”

“The microwave has been out to get me since the day I moved in here.” Satoru argues deadly serious but it’s enough to make you laugh.

His genuine giggles mix warm with yours. Your tears still linger on your cheeks but a lightness fills your body. It reminds you of opening up a window and feeling a cooling breeze flutter in.

You melt against him, even let your eyes haze over as Satoru rambles on about dinner options.

Suddenly his body curls against you more as if he wants you pull you into his own existence, to truly consume all your pain and shoulder it himself.

He might be Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer. But titles aside, even if he held no powers, he’d still be Satoru - your boyfriend who allows you be as weak you need to be, who remains an unwavering lighthouse for you even as waves threatening to pull you under.

And that is what you’re most grateful for.

“C’mon, let me try to make us instant ramen again! I promise I won’t set off the smoke alarm…maybe!” Even if he does push your limits from time to time.

[woso-fan13]

NO. 22 PICK YOUR POISON

Allergic Reaction

“Why are you scratching?” 

Busted. You looked up at Alex, a guilty look on your face. 

“I’m not?” you respond. 

She shoots you a look, “why do you sound like you’re asking me? I’ll ask one more time, why are you scratching?”

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly, “I’m just itchy.”

You squirm slightly in your clothes, trying to relieve the itch. Alex takes a step closer to you, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it up. When you hear her gasp, you peek down. Your torso is covered in red hives, no doubt the cause of your scratching. 

“How did this happen?” Alex asks you. “Did you eat something? Use a new product? Anything new?”

“No, all the same stuff. The only things I eat have to be pre-approved by the staff after the whole allergic reaction incident, so it can’t be that. And I bring all my own products, so it’s not that. Everything’s been the same but I’m so itchy.”

By the end, you’re whining, close to tears. Every part of you itched, deep under the skin so you could never be satisfied. Alex looks at you sympathetically, pulling you into her arms and allowing you to rest your head on your chest. She rocks you for a minute, giving you time to calm down and gather your thoughts. Once you’re able to take a few deep breaths, she pulls back slightly. Her hand moves to your face, cupping your cheek. 

“Why are there hives on your face now? Those weren’t there a minute ago. Can you breathe alright? Do you need to go to the ER?” 

Alex is clearly spiraling, panicking about the possibilities. You try to reassure her, shaking your head. 

“No, I don’t need the ER. My breathing is totally fine: my throat and my lungs are good.”

“Ok. Ok, that’s good. Did I cause them? They showed up on your face after I touched you.”

“Alex, don’t be ridiculous. I had them long before you came over here. I got them after I got dressed this morning.”

Suddenly, Alex’s eyes light up- clearly she has an idea. She grabs your hand, pulling you behind her into the locker room. Scanning the crowd, she pulls you over to Becky. 

“Becky, do you have a key? I need to check something.”

Becky looks slightly confused, but hands off a key nonetheless. She trusts Alex. 

“Thanks,” Alex says, sounding genuine. “Can you do me a huge favor too?” 

Once Becky nods, Alex continues. 

“Can you keep an eye on Y/N? I’ll be back in 2 minutes, max.”

Agreeing, Becky sends Alex away. She looks to where you have settled on a bench by her locker, your feet swinging. 

“What kind of trouble did you get into, kid? Why’s Alex running secret missions?”

“I never get in trouble, you know that,” you tease, hinting towards your somewhat troublesome nature. “I’m not sure where she was going. I broke out in a bunch of hives and I think she’s trying to figure it out.”

Much like Alex, Becky strides over to you and pulls the hem of your shirt up. Seeing your stomach covered in welts, she winces sympathetically. 

“Why does everyone do that?” 

Becky looks up to meet your eyes at your question, clearly confused. 

“Why does everyone keep pulling my shirt up? Does no one on this team have boundaries?”

“No, I don’t think we do,” Becky laughs. 

By this point, Alex jogs back into the room. 

“If soccer doesn’t work out, I’m becoming a detective,” she announces. “I figured it out. New laundry detergent. It’s why you got hives after you got dressed. And you must have gotten the ones on your face from being pressed against my shirt.”

Becky sighs, running a hand through her hair, “I swear, no one listens to me. I told them to buy the sensitive skin detergent only and wash all of the clothes in it. But clearly they saved a few dollars and bought the cheap stuff. You would think they could afford it, they clearly aren’t paying us enough.”

You give her a shocked look, which she completely misses. She’s looking towards Alex. 

“I’ll handle it and make sure everything is rewashed before tomorrow. You’re in charge of handling that,” she nods her head towards you, winking. Grabbing her bag, she walks out the door. 

Alex turns towards you, “Kid, shower, now. Clothes off and scrub thoroughly. Don’t use the towel though, it’s probably the same,” she digs through her locker, tossing you a towel. “Here, use this. Don’t worry, it’s clean. Don’t get dressed after though, call me when you finish, okay?”

You agree quickly, hurrying to shower. Once you finish, you shout for Alex who quickly comes in. She helps you to cover yourself in hydrocortisone and hands you a stack of clothes to wear. You gladly take them, getting dressed quickly. You’re glad Alex gave you one of her sweatsuits, the clothes swamping you. You had to roll the waistband a few times so they didn’t drag on the ground, but they were loose enough to not irritate your skin further. 

Later, you find yourself in a teammate’s room. Everyone is piled on the beds and across the floor, a movie playing in the background. But they’re more focused on teasing you. After Alex had made everyone shower and change before they could come near you, your secret came out. This was followed by multiple people inspecting your body, again pulling your shirt up. 

[starry-skies-116]

There’s several differences between my Jack and canon Miko that I feel like highlighting just so people don’t mistake them for ‘the same personality:’

They’re both reckless idiots, but while Miko puts herself and others in danger to get in on the action and try to prove herself, Jack does so because he feels personally responsible for the wellbeing of other people- especially those he cares about. It’s basically a situation of acting on an inferiority complex vs a hero complex.

Jack makes way more absurd and borderline idiotic decisions than Miko: jumping off of speeding motorcycles, licking spilled chemical samples off the floor to try and identify its properties without a scanner, trying to ingest laundry detergent to build immunity, digging through the trash for spare parts, throwing himself into danger multiple times just to try and do the jobs of the other Autobots- he puts himself in harm’s way a LOT.

You know that ‘exaggerated swagger of a black teen’ meme? Yeah- that’s season 1 Jack in a nutshell. Bro’s an unchecked theater kid on top of being a mad scientist- if Ratchet thought Miko was bad, this Jack would be enough to give him an aneurysm.

“Oh, you look like you’re having fun! What are you doing?” “eating laundry detergent” *panicking “NOW WHY IN THE NAME OF PRIMUS WOULD YOU EVEN-”

He’d definitely insult Miko’s hair, too. Like- he’d take one look at the pigtail and rat-tail combo coupled with the razor-cut scene bangs and instantly think: “That is the most ghetto sh█t I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” He’d be acting like he didn’t try to cut his hair with a cosplay sword on his own back when he was twelve.

Their definitions of punk are very different, too. Wild outfits, speed metal, loud music and American pop culture are primarily what Miko thinks of punk culture. Jack holds a philosophy similar to Hobie- that being punk is doing whatever you like to do and doing right by what you believe, even if it irritates other people. He takes the sentence ‘freedom is the right of all sentient beings’ and makes it a creed that he lives by.

He applies this trait to the other Autobots as well- he doesn’t ‘other’ them into separate categories and solely think of them as war machines. He recognizes their capabilities and their strength, sure- but he also recognizes how much pain they’ve been through, all the mistakes they’ve made, and still chooses to see them as people worthy of being loved. That’s one of the main reasons why the Autobots develop such strong emotional connections with him.

The death of Jack’s father absolutely destroyed him to the point where he doesn’t really value his life anymore. Like- at all. He’s so willing to throw away his own livelihood, compress himself into a box and try to cover every single one of his insecurities and shortcomings entirely on his own just so he can feel secure about the fact that people don’t have to worry about him anymore.

The worst part is- by the time Season 3 rolls around, Jack is so critical of his own flaws and mistakes that he genuinely believes that every bad thing that has ever happened to the Autobots is his fault and that it would be better if he never existed.

This one’s a no-brainer: Miko’s terrified of spiders- Jack thinks they’re cute.

If he was present during the ‘band practice’ scene, once Miko starts shredding on the guitar he’d start singing all of his favorite Celestial Odyssey OST’s to his little heart’s content. No doubt about it.

[fuck-customers]

💋

CW/TW self harm and depression

three times, THREE FUCKING TIMES today I caught people opening shit who then tried to argue with me on why they should be allowed to. I understand why you might want to open it, no that doesn’t make it okay. If you need to see it that fucking badly then bring it to me and I’ll open it and check it for you.

“It’s already opened/these other ones have already been opened.” Okay? That doesn’t mean you get to open shit too. If there’s opened ones then bring it to me and I will defect them.

“I need to make sure it hasn’t been used.” I understand that and as I said before, if you’re concerned about that then fucking ask me before you rip the shit open. This is literally why we have this policy of no opening shit- bc it keeps people from using the product. Therefore, DONT FUCKING OPEN IT

“I can’t buy something if I don’t know what it looks like!” Yes you can. We are incredibly lenient in our return policy, if you don’t like it you can bring it back even if you’ve used it. Wait to open it til after you buy it. Jesus fucking Christ

And then after having to deal with all this bullshit, I have a ton of people bitching at me for telling them to leave when we close.

“But I need some wine.” You don’t NEED wine. Go to the fucking gas station if you WANT wine

“My son wants some juice can I go get some?” No, again, this is not a necessity and you can go to the gas station or better yet, your crotch goblin can just go without.

“But I need to get laundry detergent to replace the one I just returned.” Then you should’ve come earlier. If you needed it that bad you would’ve planned better. Not my fucking problem, you are literally keeping me from going on my break. This lady even had the gall to call me rude when she’s the one asking to get special treatment after hours. FUCK OFF

god this job is destroying my psyche. I’ve been trying for months to find something better and nothing can beat this pay, even though I can barely afford my bills at my current rate. It’s made me bitter and burnt out and angry and I’m so tired of feeling this way. I don’t get to do shit anyone else my age does bc all I do is fucking work to try and keep my head above water. I’ve given up all my hobbies. I can’t even afford to eat three meals a day. I practically live in this fucking store and for what? So I still can’t afford all my bills? What is the fucking point??? It’s gotten to the point where I’ve had multiple mental breakdowns, I started self harming, I just can’t fucking do this anymore but I have nowhere else to go. And now back to school is right aeound the corner and I can’t wait to be triggered left and right by all these parents blowing hundreds of dollars on their precious kids. While said precious kids make my job a living fucking hell. I can’t do another back to school season I just can’t. I’m gonna lose my fucking mind. God I just want out

Posted by admin Rodney.

[sizebrained]

Bad Hangover (G/T July 24 - Distortion)

My take on the term "distortion" from @gianttol's GT July prompts. Sometime during Ben's senior year of college. CW: Nudity, drinking, mentions of panic attacks & anxiety problems. *** Ben woke up groggily. Sam had somehow convinced him to take a shot, which then turned into a shot contest with Cob cheering and egging the two giant humans on. Hazel objected and said the whole affair was “ludicrous.”

He stood up with a grunting sigh realizing he was naked. He felt a confusing panic rise then fell as he remembered Sam helped to the shower. Because after the 12th or so shot, he threw up. He had collapsed asleep right out of the shower, naked and still damp. At least he pulled the blanket over himself in the night.

"Oh...right..." Ben said and went to his dresser. The hangover was bad. He needed to eat. He saw a big handwritten note laying on top of his dresser and read it. Sorry about last night. We did all of your laundry to make up. xOXo Sam and Cob Cob had written their own name from the big scratchy, uneven letters due to struggling with what looked like a human sized marker. Also one of the x’s and one of the o’s by the looks of it and their size. He looked over seeing his formerly overflowing hamper was empty.

There was a pair of sunglasses sitting next to the paper and he bent down looking at a little arrow pointing towards them. There was something else written in Sam’s handwriting and he read.

We have the same eyes. Mine kill me after a hangover. These should help.

He wasn’t going to second guess his sister’s far greater experience with drinking. And his eyes were killing him too. He slipped them on but they felt like they were Cob’s size. Whatever he thought at least they made it a little darker.

He opened his top drawer, pulling out a pair of underwear and sliding them on. They felt tight and he winced from his headache first. Then he focused on the door he underwear adjusting himself. They were so tight…everywhere. They must have washed everything in hot water and thrown it straight into the dryer…Ben thought. He opened the next drawer and saw a neatly folded row of tank tops. He grabbed a dark navy blue one and whipped it in once unfolding it. Ben pulled it over his head.

The bottom of it stopped just above his belly button. It looked like he was wearing crop top. Except it was also tight and clingy against his torso.

He muttered, taking his phone out of its charger and walked out of his bedroom, ducking low under the door like always. "SAM!!!” he yelled out, louder than he had meant to, annoyed about the clothes and his headache. He was squinting as he entered the big open living room and kitchen space in the bright light even with the tiny sunglasses from Sam.

Too bright…he thought feeling the clothes strangle him. Sam wasn’t kidding he thought, swaying a bit as he stood. Disoriented. Hazel and Cob both jumped where they were sitting, holding their hands over their ears. They were on an armrest of one side of the L shaped sectional couch in the living room. They had been talking about something. Ben's shout was loud enough it shook them, interrupting whatever they were talking about before. It wasn't pleasant like his voice could sometimes be to them from it's power. "VOLUME!" they both yelled out in unison, sounding like a squeak in comparison to Ben's voice. Their tails moved in strange curves, looking annoyed. He could see that from a few feet away. Ben made a motion with his hands pointing at his head and body. "Sorry...I don’t feel great…Where is Sam?” He asked much softer.

“I saw the note, Cob. Thanks but uh…but you two shrunk all of my clothes in the wash." Ben said taking a step closer. Hazel looked confused as Cob let out a sudden shriek like something was the matter, but turned her attention back to Ben. "She said you were out of detergent and popped down around the corner to get some. She said she would be right back." Hazel said looking at the clothing struggling for dear life on Ben, his skin exposed. A lot of it. "And they did not shrink your clothes to clean them. I supervised the dullards and made sure they used cold water and the right setting on your machine. It was such a nice gesture I wanted to help..." Hazel said looking Ben up and down.

"HOLY SHIT!” Cob finally screamed out making Hazel turn her attention back to them. She had given up on policing their language some time ago and just accepted their younger sibling’s lewd mouth.

“He’s EVEN bigger!!! We should go…” Cob stuttered dramatically getting up to their feet and stepping back. They looked truly terrified. Hazel’s brain was thinking furiously.

Far above them, Ben’s big green eyes were blinking behind the tiny pair of sunglasses after hearing Cob. Ben looked down but they looked distorted for some reason. Maybe it was his headache. They looked really small and far away.

“What?!” Ben cried out loud enough to make the borrowers wince.

Hazel stared at him. Ben looked to be the right height, way, way up. She was so accustomed to him now she just thought of him as "enormous" all the time. Other than his clothes and the ridiculous looking sunglasses, nothing seemed out of place.

Cob grabbed Hazel’s hand and shoulder trying to pull their sister away.

“Haze get back something must be wrong with him! We need to get out of here while there’s still time!” Cob added. Hazel shrugged them off and stayed put watching Ben. Ben felt his heartrate speed up as the panic rose. He stood looking at his hands. His hands seemed really far away too. They started trembling a little and it made him drop his phone near his feet with a clatter. Oh god....Ben thought. He bent over to pick it up. He felt and heard seams tearing from being stretched too far. He had been working with Hazel long enough now that he kept his anxiety at bay for the time being. He tried to reason while he stood back up.

As he scanned his place, nothing looked right. Everything seemed farther away. But as he focused it wasn't like they were smaller, just farther away. It was really weird.

He tried to think. He had aged out of any known growth spurt window. He’d just gone for another checkup and was still 7 foot 3. He looked again noticing it still didn't look quite right. But from the feel of his clothes too, he realized something. No one gets this big this quick. "It’s not possible..." Ben said softly out loud. Hazel noticed it didn’t have an edge to it, he wasn’t worried. Ben was trying to think through possibilities other than his default mode of the worst possible things. Just like Hazel had drilled into him. "Correct. Well done." Hazel said looking up at him with a bit of pride. She had watched his face, hoping he could keep himself in check. He did brilliantly she thought a smile breaking out on her face.

Then Hazel looked over at Cob with a very perturbed glare. "Anything to share?" She said clearly seeing their sibling stifling a laugh. Cob exploded with laughter. Almost instantly, Ben’s condo door burst open. Sam was in the hallway doubled over wheezing with laughter.

Next to her in the hallway was Ben’s real laundry stacked high in a basket. Hazel slapped Cob's arm. "Not funny!" she said despite the fact she was gently chuckling as she did it.

Sam finally laughed out, “How are those trick glasses by the way babe?” wiping her eyes and then fanning them with her hands failing to calm down. Ben sighed, so that’s why nothing looked right. He threw them at Sam but missed making her laugh harder.

Sam probably used his credit card for this too. He needed to eat...and change.

***

[renee-writer]

When my mom came to visit . . .

She cooked all of my favorite meals.

She spent hours playing with my kids.

She went to the store and stocked us up on laundry detergent and toilet paper and paper towel.

She took our dog for a walk.

And somehow the house was completely spotless.

My mom always makes it look so . . . easy.

Every single time she visits.

Not only does she do it all, but she does it with so much JOY.

I won’t lie—at first I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Was I missing something? Why couldn’t I take care of my family the way my mom took care of my family?

I think I said something along those lines to her once, out of incredulity and a little bit of envy, when she turned to me and stopped me right there.

This is the difference, she reminded me, between mothering a child, and mothering a mom.

Right now, I’m smack dab in the middle of mothering children. Every day is devoted to caring for them and making sure they are happy and healthy and safe. Every day I get them up, get them dressed, get them fed, get them to school, get them to appointments, get them to activities, get them to do their homework, get them ready for bed. Every day I am responsible for not only their physical needs, but their mental and emotional ones—I help them regulate their feelings, soothe their worries and fears, mediate their disagreements, teach them boundaries, and show them how to interact with the world around them.

On top of all the other things I have to do just to keep our household going.

My mom is done mothering this way.

It’s why she gets to do the fun stuff. It’s why my own kids can get away with things I never would have dreamed of doing. It’s why she can shower them effusively with affection and gifts and overlook all of their quirks and faults and have energy left over to take care of everything else, too.

Because she’s not the one responsible for making sure they eat their vegetables. She doesn’t have to be the disciplinarian. She doesn’t have to clean my house or cook all the meals. She doesn’t have to fulfill every one of my children’s physical and emotional needs every single day.

So when she comes to visit, she does all the things for us.

Joyfully.

Because she remembers so vividly what it was like to be a busy mom to little children and how demanding that could be. She remembers how hard it felt, how long the days were, how exhausting it was. So if she can ease that burden for me even a little bit, she won’t hesitate.

And because, well . . . it’s easier to do it all when you don’t have to do it all, all the time.

But MOST of all, I know it’s because she loves me so very, very much.

And even though she may be done mothering children, now she gets to mother a mom.

[freefolkfightorflight]

Here’s where I’m at…

So. Prev BF “A” occasionally helped me with shit. (He broke up with me Saturday over something ridiculous. It made no sense. I asked a question. Super defensive. I know. Red flags. I know. But….)

Like. I know I deserve better. Anyone does. But. I don’t have better. I don’t have family. I don’t have friend. I was ostracized by my abuser and I can’t even start new because everyone either knows him or my mom in this town. I can’t leave because of him. My kids. Not til their 18. So I gotta make it work for another 11 years.

But A was my ‘something’. He helped with gas. And groceries. And sometimes a little towards rent. Clothes for the kids. Anything involving kid needs he would always help out. He has kids of his own. And. Yeah.

I can’t do ‘this’ alone. I literally cant. Over half my paycheck goes to child support to him. When you look at my take home pay and then childsupport plus rent/phone/necessities….it does not compute. It does not add up to cover all my regular bills

Let alone gas or groceries. Lol at eating out or doing anything else. Lol at buying laundry detergent or clothes or shoes for kids. I hate that this is where I am. But it is. And I’ll be here for a while.

Do I suck it up and let A back into my life…again? If he will have me? I feel as if I don’t have a choice….like. I have to suck up any semblance of pride that I have left and just…try.

I’m not eligible for any ‘assistance’ due to what I make. They don’t include what I pay in child support. They don’t care that I have my kids in my care 90% of the time. It doesn’t matter. Same with government housing. I do not qualify.

Please, I don’t need advice as in “attorney”. I live in the most backwards fucking place and no one gives a fuck. Also that costs money. I can’t even file for bankruptcy because I can’t afford the attorney fee to transfer the house title to ‘him’ or the fee to get the affidavit from a lawyer re: the house.

If you have advice on how to turn off the love in my heart I’d gladly take that. Sob

Do I do nothing and just get kicked out of my home after I can’t keep the electricity on? I may have no choice.

It just feels so humiliating and shameful. Like I said earlier. It would be so much easier if I didn’t love him to death and just feel constantly hurt by hypocritical expectations etc. if I could just keep a perfect stepford wife smile and attitude and never question any of the sketchy shit he does.

Im aware of soup kitchens. I went to one today. It’s not enough.

There’s nothing left to cut out. I don’t own any streaming services. I use random other people’s where they gave me log in info (speaking of, any one have Disney plus? lol sob🥺😭). I could turn off the internet. That would save me $50/month. But. That still wouldn’t make things come out even. What the fuck.

This isn’t me asking for money. Just getting it out

[lonelyfanboy48]

Steven Universe Of The Creek Chapter 13 The New Day Of Fruition

The sun rose above the creek after the rainstorm from last night. It stopped raining at about three thirty in the morning, while the clouds drifted away in short order. Despite the outdoors being wet with the dirt in the creek having turned to mud, kids are still gonna come over to hang out.

Craig woke up and immediately got himself out of bed. Even if he had more sleep than last time, he still needs to clean Steven’s clothes, even if he’s willing to come out right away. After he got out of his bedroom, he headed to the bathroom where Steven took off his clothes to put it in the dirty laundry basket. He heads downstairs to the washing machine in the kitchen where he put all of Steven’s clothes in. After putting the detergent soap in, he closed the lid and turned on the machine.

In the living room, Steven slowly opened his eyes while yawning. Even resting under a roof, his body is still shaking from the events that happened last night. He was too concerned about thinking about his current problem rather than encountering two gems, who are probably still around in the neighborhood.

After Craig poured his cereal in his bowl, he entered the living room just to notice Steven waking up from the couch. “Steven?” He spoke to which Steven turned around.

“Good morning.” He shyly smiled. “It stopped raining, are you thinking about going to the creek?”

“Well…” Craig headed back in the kitchen to the refrigerator while opening it. “Is there anything else you wanna do?”

“No, not even a bit.” As Steven heads straight to the kitchen table, Craig just poured milk into his cereal while sitting with Steven face to face. “I see you just started the washing machine huh?”

“Usually my parents do the laundry and they taught me how but…” He took a bite from his cereal.

“You don’t want to do it?” Steven guessed as Craig nodded. “I’ve been through that.”

“Maybe cleaning the laundry just to clean the clothes even if it’s important…wasn’t as important as you.” Craig continued to eat his breakfast while taking in the peace around him after the storm from last night, despite the noise from the washing machine.

“You know…you saying that I’m more important than laundry was the last thing I would expect to hear from a kid but…nothing’s too crazy anymore.” Steven commented.

“Well if you wanna go to the creek, I don’t even know where to start to be honest.” Craig replied. “I know I didn’t mind that when we met for the first time, but I wasn’t thinking about you. Just your gem.”

Steven didn’t forget that Craig’s friends saw his gem last night and if he wanted to set things quickly, he needed to find Craig’s friends even if he never got to know them unlike Craig. “When we go to the creek, do you want to know a little more about me and my life?”

“That’s fine, there’s a lot going on after seeing you glow pink. Especially those…gems.”

“Aquamarine and Ruby? Trust me, even if they’re my problems, they don’t compare to anything else I’ve gone through.”

After Craig finished eating his cereal, the washing machine took its time to clean everything through Steven’s clothes. Steven put on his clothes despite how they were a bit too warm. While Craig was washing his dish, he got out of his pajamas and changed into his regular clothes. He and Steven headed out and walked into the creek itself.

The leaves from the trees dripped down water after the storm from last night. Steven and Craig needed the fresh air in order to get along better. Even if they have to deal with the creek still being wet, the sun will manage to dry things as quickly as possible.

“So Aquamarine and Ruby who attacked you, are they your enemies?”

“They’re the only enemies I have at the moment. But compared to other enemies I’ve had in the past, they're more annoying than dangerous.”

“Yeah, they were smaller than me, but way more powerful.” Craig responded, keeping his hands in his pockets. “But when I saw them, they were a different gem.”

“True, but in reality, they’re the same person. It’s called fusion.”

“Fusion?”

“Long story, but one of my mothers is actually a fusion…who I just talked to last night who told me to work things out with you.”

“Do you mean…Pearl? Amethyst? Garnet?”

“The latter.” Steven answered. “This may be hard to believe, but there are more Rubies aside from this one. And the Ruby who’s on my side is fused with Sapphire, they’re Garnet.” He stopped himself while showing Craig a picture from his phone. The picture itself showed Ruby and Sapphire at the wedding at the beach, then he scrolled to another picture of him hugging Garnet after she fused back.

“Ohh…I completely forgot that you told me about the wedding, and the fusion two nights ago.”

“I didn’t feel the need to tell you, since it was the day before yesterday.” When he put his phone away, they resumed their walk. “But then again yesterday was the day we didn’t expect to turn out terribly.”

“You know Steven, things don’t turn out the way I wanted at the creek, but compared to yours, it’s much smaller in scale.”

“Did you remember what I said about the Gem war?”

“Yeah. And about you…turning into a baby…I never saw a TV show that did that.”

This causes Steven to sigh, knowing he has so much work to do. “When I showed you a picture of Yellow, Blue, and White Diamond, there’s another Diamond…who’s my real mother.”

Craig stopped himself, thinking that a Diamond far bigger would be Steven’s mother of all things. When Steven took notice, he wasn’t surprised, but knew Craig would catch on, even by a little. “How??”

“She turned into Rose Quartz, who was the mother I remembered the most in my childhood, only to learn, just like Ruby, there are more Rose Quartzs. She’s Pink Diamond.”

“Pink Diamond…that explains why you were glowing pink last night…and about you turning into a monster.”

Craig had more questions than necessary, but he didn’t know where to start. Rose Quartz, Multiple Rose Quartzs, and Pink Diamond turning into Rose Quartz, he can’t even think of one thing without getting confused or overwhelmed.

“Craig, you don’t wanna know everything about Pink Diamond, but it’s hard for me to be mad when I lose it.”

“But how is Pink Diamond the reason you glow pink?”

“Because I can’t control myself forever. You can’t be the nicest and self-controlled person when you're a gem at the same time.”

“So, Pink Diamond was the biggest enemy in all this?”

Steven lowered his head while answering his question. “Yes.”

“Then it’s best if we leave it at that.”

“Pearl would tell you everything if she was here right now.”

When Craig thought about Steven’s guardians and his downplay stories from his family reunion, it became clearer as day that whatever he’s downplaying is always the other way around. But when it comes to Pearl, Amethyst, and Garnet who’s a fusion, he never understood how important his life was with the three.

“Steven.” Craig came up with a new question. “When you put saliva in my ear, all I saw was pitch pinkness in my eyes. Not only did I feel sparkles, but the old emotions I had between you were gone. Do you do this with people?”

“Yes.” Steven answered. “You see, my saliva heals corrupted Gems when they are damaged. I helped with Connie’s eye vision when he took a sip of my juice box years ago.”

This causes Craig to come up with another question. “Do they get powers like you do?”

Steven shook his head in response. “Would you expect other people to explode like yesterday at my apartment? I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s probably best that it didn’t.”

“I don’t even know what it would feel like if it's true.”

Steven could imagine what a human would do if they had powers like this, but on the other hand, Gems require gems for powers regardless of them being different from one another. “The chances of you having powers are one in a million. And even if you’re a gem like me, you have to cooperate because it’s still dangerous.”

“I know, Aquamarine and Ruby felt powerful together just by seeing their powers.”

“That’s mainly because of the fact that they’re in a fusion. And there are many more fusions that are bigger and stronger than them.”

Craig wondered what fusion would feel like inside of the mind with others, but cooperating with another person would be harder than he thought. “It seems that this type of specialty is a huge custom to Gems.”

“Well, I can fuse with my dad and Connie, but it’ll only work if one of the two are a gem. I’m not gonna explain a lot about it because it’s too complicated for you at your age.”

In a moment of realization, Craig wouldn’t experience fusion if he found a gem similar to Steven. Not to mention he still has a lot of understanding of Steven’s life as a gem. Then again, he needed to set things straight by having his friends be part of it.

“I think we should have my friends be part of this. Let’s save some of the details when we go to the stump which is where my friends are waiting.”

“You're right. Besides, the amount of kids that I saw last night, you have almost the same amount of friends that I have back at Beach City.”

“You really want to meet them?”

“That and more by chance, because I doubt I’m leaving anytime soon.”

Craig smiled from Steven’s eagerness to give the creek a chance by starting somewhere and he’s more than thankful to start off with his friends. “Okay let’s get Kelsey and J.P. to catch up with us.”

“That’s the spirit.” They return to their walk while heading to where Craig spends most of his time with his friends. The following step of getting to know each other to resolve their newborn friendship.

[purplesurveys]

1660

Do you have a reason to smile right now? Sure. I like that it’s Monday yet it’s a holiday, so I don’t have to work. Then again it’s the last day of our 5-day long weekend and I’m feeling a bit bummed, but I’m trying to stay on the positive my dudes. Stressing on my last free day can’t possibly bring anything good. Do you start the shower water before or after you get in? Depends on the weather. These days I stand directly under the shower as soon as I turn it on because it’s HOT AS FUCK and the cold water feels refreshing anyway. Most of the time though I’d start it before.

True or false: You’re not sitting on a chair to use the computer right now. That’s true. I’m sitting up on a folded-out sleeping bag.

Do you regret any of your past relationships? I regret many, many parts of it but like, I wouldn’t invalidate the happiness I knew I felt then. I just feel bad that that happiness was misdirected.

How many times have you been to a museum? Too many times than I can count. I went to a museum for the first time in Grade 1 as part of a field trip and was immediately hooked, and since then it’s been tradition for me to visit at least a handful of museums every year.

How has this past week been for you? So fucking relaxing. It was a break I really needed. We had five days off due to the Holy Week and because of another national holiday also happening at the same time, and even though I told myself I was gonna use the extra time to catch up on work...I didn’t, lol. I just let myself enjoy the days going by and caught up on Wrestlemania instead. I haven’t watched this much wrestling since 2014.

Is anything going to happen next month that makes you happy? My dad will be coming home then.

Are you going to be getting any new pets soon? My mom has been saying she wants a Pomeranian but I think we’re good with the two dogs for now.

Do you like the rain? I love the rain; the only time I don’t is when it’s nighttime and I’m stuck driving and in traffic.

Do you like it when stores have sales? I don’t actively hunt down sales cos it just means 45794749 other people would be all over it hahaha, but I mean it’s always nice when I encounter something I like and it happens to be like 60%, 70% off its original price.

Would you rather be a Panda or Grizzly bear? Panda.

Do you have any of your Easter candy left over? I don’t celebrate Easter. Easter candy also isn’t much of a thing here...egg hunts and decorating events are organized for kids, but most of the time the eggs contain money and not candy.

Is there someone on your mind that shouldn’t be? Nah.

Does your ex make you mad? It’s a very passive resentment. She doesn’t make me like, actively seethe with anger lol but I don’t necessarily hold positive feelings towards her.

Will you talk to someone on the phone tonight? Nope.

Do you like BBQ sauce? I love barbecue sauce and enjoy it the most on my pizza.

Do the stairs in your house have carpet? No.

What were you doing at 9 AM this morning? In bed, waking up. I was going through my Twitter I think.

Can you do a twirl like a ballerina? No. I did take ballet but didn’t stay in it long enough to learn how to do a proper spin.

Would you rather eat 12 hot dogs or 6 hamburgers? I’d go with the hotdogs even though I prefer burgers. It just seems a tad easier to take down 12 of them hahahaha.

What color is the door to your basement? We don’t even have a basement.

Was your favorite class science because of the experiments? My favorite was history because of the far more interesting stories and lessons I got out of it. 

Do you like citrus pop or any drinks? I wouldn’t say so, no.

Last time you wore the opposite sex’s clothing? Over a month ago.

What’s the last board game you played? Can’t even remember.

What laundry detergent do you use? Tide.

Do you trust people too easily? I trust a fair amount.

Are you currently fighting with someone? I’m not.

Do you hang out with your siblings friends? Nah. I’d be the cool older sister that can shoot the shit with them, but my sister’s friends like to keep to themselves hahaha so it’s alright. As for my brother, I’m not even sure if he has friends. He’s never asked permission to go out for a hangout sesh and has never had any friends over.

Last time you had butterflies in your stomach? Last Wednesday when we were anxiously awaiting the Thai ticketing website to let us in from the online queue we were painstakingly waiting in.

Have you ever kept anything wild as a pet? Nope.

Do you set good examples for little kids? If I’m around kids then yeah, but that doesn’t happen often anyway.

Does your favorite song mention a famous person’s name in it? It doesn’t.

Are you counting down the days to anything? Jin’s enlistment release and the day we’re seeing Yoongi.

Does your house have a pool? Nope.

If you broke your computer, would you be able to fix it by yourself? Nah, I’d take it to a repair center immediately.

On a scale 1-10, how much does the opposite sex confuse you? Not nearly as much as they used to, so 0. I get enough interactions with Hans and guys at work these days.

When you party, do you get wild? Depends on the vibe of the party and how fun the crowd is. These days I grow bored quite easily and leave places without so much as a buzz, haha.

If you found a wallet full of money, what would you do? Check for an ID and try to hunt the person down if they have any social media I can reach out to. If no ID, I’d post on social media anyway to see if there’s anyone who’d know the person who left the wallet behind. I don’t really trust police.

Do you do cheers often? Like...toasts? Not really, no. Do you enjoy fishing? I’ve never tried it and it doesn’t sound interesting to me.

Was your first job babysitting? No, I’ve always been in PR. Did you wear a hoodie today? No, and I don’t think I’ll need to wear a hoodie again until like December lol.

Are you embarrassed to talk about stuff with your dad? I wouldn’t open to him 100% but between him and my mom, I’m definitely more comfortable talking about things with him. He’s more open-minded.

Taylor Swift or Carrie Underwood? Neither.

--

10 How’s

How did you get one of your scars? Cooper got too playful and also happened to have longer nails than usual at the time, so he managed to get a deep gash into my right thigh. I knew the second it bled the way it did that it was going to leave a souvenir, haha.

How did you celebrate your last birthday? I stayed at home for the most part til I brought out my family for dinner; then that weekend I took my friends to the beach. My next birthday’s a little over a week away and it’s going to be drastically different as I’ve since shut down all plans for it; am on full budget lockdown mode in preparation for my Thailand trip in June.

How are you feeling at this moment? A little sleepy, a little antsy because I’m back to work tomorrow. Just trying to enjoy my last few hours of freedom.

How did your night go last night? As chill as it gets. I just stayed in my room watching wrestling. OH but I did put a bit of work in and drafted an entire press release to get some tasks out of way for tomorrow.

How did you do in high school? I was miserable the first couple of years; didn’t have a group of friends and was doing terrible in a few subjects. I seemed to find my footing when I reached junior year where I was able to improve my grades and find my place in a group, and also get invited to stuff outside of school. All in all the positives outweigh the bad and generally I’m able to look back at high school with good feelings.

How did you get the shirt you’re wearing? Idk, my mom got it from somewhere and I called dibs on it.

How often do you see your best friend? With Angela, at least once a month. I see Andi a lot less frequently – maybe once every 5-6 months? We typically only get together when there’s a local wrestling show happening nearby, or when they need help studying for a test.

How much money did you spend last month? A little over ₱12,000 – just the total bill for my dog bites. Extremely frustrating how my HMO didn’t cover it so ever since then I went on spending lockdown. Haven’t spent on literally anything since then other than my Agust D ticket.

How old do you want to be when you get married? I used to want to get married in my late 20s, but by the looks of things marriage isn’t in the cards anymore.

How old will you be at your next birthday? I’ll be 25!

9 What’s

What is the most important part of your life? Right now, it would be my personal life and just trying to stay happy. Family’s health is just as important to me, too. I’ve stopped placing my career as top priority.

What did you do last weekend? I caught up on the newest Wrestlemania and a bunch of recent WWE storylines by watching compilations and segments/promos. Literally I have not watched this much wrestling since 2014; it’s super refreshing, and yet I feel right at home. Which is what wrestling has always made me feel, anyway.

We also finally settled our Yoongi concert dilemma – all 4 of us are seeing him in Bangkok. :)

What did you last cry over? Listening to Agust D’s People earlier.

What are you worried about? Catching up on work starting tomorrow because I’m sure there’ll be a fuckload of it waiting to crash down on me. I’m not mega mega anxious because I did do some preliminary work last night and tonight (ily self thanks for powering through despite it being a long weekend), but STILL.

What is your mother’s name? Abby.

What always makes you feel better when you’re upset? Petting my dogs, YouTube videos, BTS.

What would you rather be doing? Anything but mentally bracing myself for work.

What’s the most important thing you look for in a significant other? I’m not looking, but I’d appreciate anyone who wouldn’t gaslight, I guess...and someone who doesn’t think they’re always right, and someone who is actually capable of apologizing when necessary.

What did you have for breakfast? Spicy chicken tenders with rice.

EIGHT Have You’s

Have you ever done something outrageously dumb? At this point, haven’t we all at least once?

Have you ever had sex on the beach? No, I haven’t.

Have you ever been backstabbed by a friend? Sure.

Have you ever been out of the country? I have a few times, yeah.

Have you ever dated someone younger than you? The gap was literally a month and half lol but if we were being technical and strict about this question then yeah.

Have you ever liked someone who already had somebody? Nope.

Have you ever been brokenhearted? Yeah.

Have you ever read an entire book in one day? Mostly when I was in my teenage years.

SEVEN Who’s:

Who is the last person you saw? My mom briefly opened my door a couple of hours ago to say goodnight.

Who is the last person that you texted? Some media person who texted me earlier. During the long weekend. Pissed me off ngl hahaha but I still replied to get it over with.

Who called you last? Angela.

Who is the last person you hung out with? Angela, Hans, and Angela’s coworkers; we watched an open night. Who did you hug last? I think it may have been Marla. It’s weird; we’ve never actually directly worked together much, but for some reason we’ve developed some sort of mutual fondness? Hahaha like if we happen to be at the office at the same time we’d literally run to one another and hug. Must be the solidarity that comes with being a corporate slave or something like that lol. 

Who is the last person that texted you? The said media person who texted me first earlier today.

Who was the last person you said “I love you” to? Andi.

SIX Where’s:

Where does your best friend live? A good 20-minute drive away; it’s one of the cities next door but you don’t need to know which one it is.

Where is your favorite place to be? Some spot with good nightlife makes me the happiest and most content.

Where did you sleep last night? The foldout sleeping bags I keep under my loft bed. It’s just not possible to sleep on my actual bed this summer; it’s a big hassle to keep bringing my electric fan up and down the stairs, and it’s not like I keep my AC on all night – I turn it off just before I go to bed and within an hour or so I would 100% start sweating through my clothes unless I have the fan pointed towards me.

Long explanation but anyway that’s the room situation for the next few months: Go with my sleeping bags on the ‘ground’ level, where I can conveniently have the fan pointed at me.

Where did you last hang out? The bar where the aforementioned comedy night was happening.

Where do/did you go to school? I went to UP for college but that’s as much as I’m able to share.

Where did you last adventure to? Just around BGC. I had an event that day but nevertheless the whole experience still felt like an adventure. It’s always nice and freeing to be in BGC.

FIVE Do’s/Does:

Do you ever wish you were someone else? Every now and then, but it’s not a thought that actively consumes me.

Do you think anyone despises you? Idk man. Even if someone does, I wouldn’t want to entertain the thought.

Do you like someone right now? Nopes.

Does the future scare you? I try not to be. It’s healthier to stay in the present.

Do you have any secret powers? Um, let’s go with no.

FOUR Why’s:

Why are you best friends with your best friend(s)? Our humors and personalities have clicked for the last 18 years, and we never abandoned one another when we needed our friendship the most.

Why did your parents give you the name you have? They thought it sounded nice. Also was a little nod to the Swedish singer with the same name.

Why did you get a myspace? I got one forever ago because I assumed everyone was on it...to which I quickly realized it was largely an American audience, and Filipinos were actually largely on Friendster and Multiply instead hahaha.

Why are you doing this survey? I’m just trying to finish up the backlog I’ve racked up on my liked surveys tab. I will say I know I’ve taken this one before, but the format is really interesting so I didn’t have a problem retaking it now.

THREE If’s:

If you could have one super power what would it be? Wealth. Or, if we’re speaking to Work Perfectionist Robyn, the ability to think of award-winning campaigns all the time.

If you could go back in time and change one thing, would you? Not a thing.

If you could live anywhere, where would it be? Korea.

Two Would-you-ever’s:

Would you ever shave your head to save someone you love? Sure.

Would you ever get back together with any of your exes if they asked you? No.

Last one:

Are you happy with how your life has turned out? Yes.