#I used to be one of those ‘Never enough cheese!’ people and then I started cutting out dairy and now I understand…

[iero]

Unpopular food opinion and maybe it’s because I don’t consume almost any dairy anymore, but I genuinely find things that boast about the amount of cheese it has to be kinda… gross?

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Picture this: Dragons using their caves to age cheese. Dragon Cheesemakers!!

The dragon coiled his enormous body, completely blocking the entrance of the tunnel that lead to the caves.

“No,” he snarled, smoke pluming from his nose.

The cheesemonger pinched the bridge of her own nose. “Look, I explained this to you at the start,” she tried once more. “I make cheese.”

“Yes,” the agreed, nodding his scaly head.

“Then I bring the cheese here.”

“Yes.”

“Then you store all the cheese in your cave, keeping it at the perfect temperature and humidity.”

“Yes.” He sounded particularly proud of this part.

“And then when the cheese has ripened,” she concluded. “I come to pick the cheese up again.”

A thunderous scowl clouded his maw. “No.”

“But that’s how it works!” she cried in exasperation. “I make the cheese, you store the cheese, I sell the cheese, I make more cheese!” She peered up at him. “You do realise I cannot bring you new cheese until I have sold this cheese.”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “Ah, but what if—” he began. “What if you go and make more cheese. And bring me the cheese. And I put it in my cave, with the rest of the hoard. And then I keep it there forever.”

“No,” she said flatly.

It was remarkable how much a dragon could look like it had just swallowed a lemon.

“You can’t keep cheese forever,” she insisted. “It will spoil and go bad!”

“You said it would get better and better!” the dragon roared indignantly. “And I take good care of them! With the air flow and the humidity and the temperature!”

“And that is great,” she said, trying to smile through her frustration. “But when a cheese is ripe, it’s ripe! Then you should not be kept anymore, it should be eaten.”

The dragon scraped it’s formidable claws against the stony ground and sulked.

“Look…” The cheese mongering business did not tend to require a lot of sweet-talking, but she was making an effort. “I’m sure the cheeses that aged in your cave are the best cheeses people have ever tasted. When they find out how delicious they are they will want us to make loads more. Maybe several caves’ worth!”

The reptilian eyes stared at her with disgruntled, reluctant interest. “Several caves?”

“If we’re lucky! And I could make so much cheese that I could bring you new cheese as soon as I pick up the aged cheese. Your cave would never even be empty!”

This seemed to strike a chord. The dragon lifted his head a little.

“And that would really be much better for the rest of your hoard,” she continued with fresh inspiration. “Because if you leave cheese too long, it might go bad and spoil the cheeses next to it too!”

A nervous ripple went through the beast’s scaly body, but he clearly was not convinced just yet. “But what sort of a hoard is it if I have to give it away,” he complained.

“Well! Cheese is not just any old hoard! It’s a developing creation! And you will have a hoard that is constantly developing too. Constantly changing, but, if we do this right, never shrinking.”

The dragon looked at her solemnly, wavering with uncertainty. Perhaps she shouldn’t hold it against the poor thing, it must be a difficult concept to wrap his head around.

“And I will tell you what,” she said encouragingly. “If business is good, I can start investing in some really good crumbly cheeses. You can keep those in your cave for five whole years!”

“That is quite a long time for humans, is it not?” he said, sounding a little more cheerful.

“Very long. Especially when it comes to cheese. Cheeses that have been aged that long are very expensive.”

In retrospect, she should perhaps have led with that. Gourmand or not, a dragon was still a dragon after all. A glittering, toothy grin appeared on her recalcitrant business partner’s shout and he moved just enough for her to move past him into the mountain.

“Tell me more about this expensive cheese that crumbles.”

She hid a smirk. “If you help me carry some of the current ones out, it would be my pleasure.”

[missberrycake]

I’ve been thinking this morning about if Steve didn’t get back together with Nancy at the end of S1—I think there’s a lot of different ways that could go, but what if Steve ended up as one of Eddie’s lost little sheep?

Because even if Steve was popular enough to keep afloat in the choppy waters of high school, after his bust up with Tommy and Carole—and even when he’s seen talking with Nancy and Jonathan Byers of all people—he still doesn’t really have any true friends left. Sure, he has people he can chat to in class, but at lunch? After school? Nobody is really thinking about who ex-jock, ex-bully Steve Harrington is hanging around with. 

Perhaps he spends the rest of his junior year dreading lunch hour, because he knows he’s going to have to deploy some serious charm tactics—taking as long as he can in the queue, chatting to the students either side of him—and perhaps if he lingers long enough at one of the tables of his more social classmates, pretends he’s just catching up, carrying on a conversation from class, he can make it seem like it’s all still as easy as it was before. 

Sometimes, though, he doesn’t have the energy to pretend. On those days he’ll retreat quietly to his car and eat his lunch behind his wheel, wondering how different it might have been if he’d never gone back into the Byers’ house that day last fall.

It’s on one of those days that Eddie sees him. It’s not like Eddie hadn’t noticed him before, he’s always on the lookout, after all, and Steve Harrington is one of those people who always drew his eye. He’d seen him scouring the cafeteria while queueing up for his state-mandated mac ‘n’ cheese, searching for a space where he could fit. 

And, of course, he’d heard the whispers about Steve—that he’d punched Tommy H in the face, gotten his crown beaten from his head by Jonathan Byers (though he didn’t seem to hold a grudge). If there’s one thing to know about Eddie, it’s that he’s a bleeding heart, and so when he sees Steve sitting alone in his car, winter frost glittering against the metal, he lets out a heavy sigh and trundles over. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he says, pushing down a smirk when Steve jumps (he is easily startled these days, isn’t he?).

“Munson,” Steve replies with narrow eyes. He doesn’t trust Eddie yet, not entirely. 

“There’s more space in my van. If you wanted some company.”

Eddie leaves it like that, keeps it casual, knows that he might get it shoved right back in his face—expects it to be, even. And so he’s surprised at how quickly Steve nods back at him, a real smile breaking out on his face, if only for a moment, until Steve clears his throat and says, “Sure, yeah. That’d be cool, I guess.”

It’s the start of something big. A delicate balance where the two of them pretend that it’s not that important, but somehow they’re more honest with each other than they’ve ever been with anyone else. Steve tells Eddie all about how he doesn’t even really know who he is anymore, and in return Eddie shares just how worried he is that he knows exactly who he’s expected to be, and that he can’t change his fate even if he wanted to.

By the time the next school year starts, it’s well established with the school population that Steve Harrington has somehow landed himself with an honorary spot in the Hellfire Club. He doesn’t play—refuses to learn, even if it’s clear that he’d do pretty much anything else that Eddie Munson would ask of him—but he helps set up the meetings, sits with them at lunch, smiles stupidly whenever Eddie gets up onto the cafeteria tables to rant about the shallow-mindedness of his peers. 

And if Eddie’s diatribes are directed at the popular crowd with a little more venom than they used to be, and if he seems to take great pleasure whenever Tommy H, or Carole, or those posers on the basketball team frown and scoff and sneer at him, it’s no great secret to everyone else in the lunch hall exactly why. 

[Yeah, I'm scouring the archives and trying to salvage as many headcanons as I can from my old deleted account, but let's just pretend this is brand new content.]

[gojoest]

gojo learning what a home smells like, mentions of food, not much dialogue except for the ending, kind of selfship coded bc this was supposed to be a talk post but then i kind of rambled and this came out so it’s not proofread and that’s that

each home has a specific scent to it.

you know, the one that builds over time, the so-called occupant odor that fills the air after a while of people living in it. it’s the aroma of the ingredients you use and the spices you often put into your dishes, the freshly washed clothes and especially that one detergent that is always a must, the cleaning products you use, and the scent of those who inhabit the house all combined that sticks behind and makes it so distinct. makes it smell like home.

but satoru’s house smelled empty. too empty in fact. it smelled clean, too clean for someone who’s lived there for years now. almost like a newly renovated apartment that’s been deprived of human presence for too long and it’s just the sharp scent of paint and construction materials that hits your nostrils when you walk in. a housekeeper would come by once in a week to take care of the place, not that there was much to do around — it was pretty clean. nobody cooked there — his fridge was almost empty, only water bottles in it. nobody did the laundry — everything was sent to the dry cleaning. nobody was there enough for their scent to sink in, even he himself. his house never felt like home to him. it was simply a place for him to shortly crash at. like a hotel of some sort, a place he’d only use to shower and sleep while for the rest of the time he’d be out going on missions, putting his life in danger.

that was, until you came into his life.

at first it was only short stayovers. you would spend a night or two at his place each week. but it was enough for it to start layering and spreading around — the scent of you, of him, of you together. when you came into his life out of literally nowhere, he would start going out of his way and take on less missions so he could be with you, more — so you would stay over and make dinner, ask about his favorite dish and then cook it for him the next time.

you would make pancakes in the morning. you would get your favorite ingredients and put them in his fridge. you’d get some blueberries and bananas, little bit of feta cheese even. you would place jars of powdered sugar and honey into the empty shelves in his kitchen. and little bit by bit the room would start to fill — some oats and cinnamon for autumn days, peanut butter because it goes so well with apples, a little bit of oregano for when you make baked potatoes, a little bit of garlic because it makes any dish taste better, some olive oil and lemons because that’s your go-to dressing for when you make salads, and some tahini for when you’re feeling posh but then realize it doesn’t taste quite right in some meals but eat it anyway.

little bit by bit his house would start feeling less empty and more like home.

you’d bring extra clothes for the day after the stayover and then forget the old ones there. he would buy you pajamas for when you come by so you don’t have to bring yours every time or wear a shirt of his when you don’t or sleep naked (not that he minds it). you would wash them all in the laundry, together with his clothes and yours, the ones you had left behind from before. but you would always need that one softener, you know, the one you absolutely refuse to wash your clothes without because it smells so good, and then you would put your pajamas and his next to each other on the bed and the clothes — in his wardrobe, and the room would smell so good and it would start feeling like home to him.

but.

no matter how much of yourself you left behind, it still felt kind of empty, especially on days when you weren’t around tiptoeing quickly from the bedroom to the bathroom in the mornings for a quick pee before coming back to bed and nuzzling into his chest, when you weren’t around dancing in his kitchen experimenting with a new salad dressing once again, when you weren’t around asking him to open jars, when you weren’t around for his eyes to see and his arms to embrace in the morning.

it was then when these four walls felt so foreign and nothing like home to him. the house still smelled familiar but not completely. just like a bland dish — you eat it and it gives your body the needed nutrients but doesn’t quite fill you up because there’s just something missing.

and tonight he decided to chase after the missing ingredient.

“so, listen”, he said while casually grabbing some greens through the salad with his chopsticks, “i am going to make you an offer you can’t refuse”

“if it has anything to do with me doing the dishes tonight and you folding the laundry tomorrow, i am out”

“love”, he paused, “who washes dishes by hand when there’s a dishwasher?”

“rich people like you might not know of this, but we, ordinary people, do not use the dishwasher for just three plates. we use our hands, a sponge and a dishwashing liquid”, you flashed a polite but sarcastic smile at him.

“okay, ordinary person that i love so much, then how about this”, he swallowed his bite and continued, “you move in and start being extraordinary with me?”

“we’re not using the dishwasher for three plates”, you raised your chopsticks and brought them threateningly close to his face, “but okay. i can move in here and start using your credit card more reasonably”

[cryptic-klepto]

Yall are the Nazi's useful idiots. Block me.

I don't have mutuals because if I give any of you long enough you'll inevitably prove to be Jew Haters. I've blocked half this hellsite because you crypto-fascists masquerading as progressives can't read my pinned post BEGGING you to block me first. "Haha this person posts funny/informative posts. I'll follow them! ...Oh wait they mindlessly eat up nazi and terrorist propaganda like they're fistfuls of shredded cheese direct from the fridge at 2AM. Well nevermind then. Unfollow/blocked." Palestine will not be free or at peace with Israel destroyed and Hamas in control. Hamas has been murdering, raping, and torturing Palestinians for almost 2 decades. On top of that, so many of yall regurgitate nazi conspiracies and blood libel like you are vultures vomiting up worms to feed other mindless pawns of the Far Right. Leftists have been doing more legwork to promote the agenda of fascism than any Proud Boy or Neo-Nazi Gun Club has in years. Do I seem mad? I am mad. I'm mad that those I care about have to start making plans for when their home countries kick them out or hunt them down. For when YOU hunt them down. Not "if." WHEN. They know that they have nowhere to turn but Israel, the one place that has never turned them away. Every single country refused Jewish refugees during World War 2, during to pogroms, during the purges. Every single one. With one exception. Israel. That's why Israel must survive. Because without Israel, the Jewish people may not. They are a remarkably tenacious people, survived everything the world has ever thrown at them. The Romans, the Nazis, the Soviets, everything. But I don't want my loved ones to be in survival mode for every subsequent generation to follow. I want them to be and feel safe. That's what this is about. Safety. Jewish people, AND Palestinians, are being held hostage by Hamas. Women, children, elderly, the disabled. If you want a ceasefire, then they must be released. It's honestly the simplest and easiest demand Israel could make. Return the innocent. And yes they are innocent. They're only crime was not being Hamas, a crime so many of you openly believe deserves the death penalty. You want to free Palestine? Free Palestine from 17 years of Hamas tyranny. Demand that the hostages be released. Only then can their be a ceasefire. You can't expect Israel to just lay down arms while her people are having their heads cut off. Are you stupid or do you just want Jews to die that badly? Don't answer that. Two things can be true. Free Palestine from Hamas. Free Israel from Netanyahu. Release the hostages, negotiate ceasefire. Stop parroting Far Right propaganda. Jump off the bigoted bandwagon. Failing that, STFU and block me. I'm sick of this shit. Eat glass.

[hotluncheddie]

high masking autistic steve harrington follow on from this post

ao3

wc: 2.6k | rated: T | cw: description of a meltdown with semi aggressive stimms | tags: autistic steve harrington (and eddie and robin but this is about stevie), hurt/comfort, stobin soulmates, steddie, steve Harrington has shitty parents

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he failed. he graduated. but he failed. those unsaid words between him and his parents. some get said. the bad ones, about him, they get said. over again like he’s 5 and being told is behaviour isn’t acceptable. that how he is isn’t right. ‘shape up or ship out’, basically. steve knows he can’t go anywhere new, not right now. only freshly recovered, physically at least. mentally; he’s still unacceptable. 

when steve works at scoops. it’s so fucking bright in there. so fucking bright, all day and he can’t focus and talking to people gets so much harder. it’s not like school where he can zone out in class and turn it on during lunch, in between, keep up his face with the people around him and sink back into his head during chemistry. no. now it’s all the time, customer after customer. that he has to talk to, put on a smile for, read so he gives them what they want and they leave happy. it’s exhausting. girls don’t like him anymore, they don’t react to him the same way. he doesn’t think he likes them much either though because they’re so much more annoying when it’s so fucking bright. 

but robin (robin who cycles to work with sunglasses on and doesn’t take them off till she has too) she turns the lights down during open and close. so those couple hours, it’s not so bad. not so stressful. a little bit less loud. 

after the mall burns down steve starts letting her in. tries too. she makes it obvious enough to him that she wants him there. she asks him to stay and calls him at night and he just wants to be enough for her. eventually he’d swallowed his pride and bolstered his courage and called her after a string of nightmares. asking her to stay the night. but then she was there, and it was like everything was thrown off. she was grating on his already freyed nerves but he didn’t know what to say. how to fix it without upsetting her. 

but that night, a mirror of the mall bathroom played out in steves en-suite. steve had freaked. hidden. but she didn’t leave. and he tried to explain. 

he needs her but he doesn’t know how to have her as a true friend. ‘i dunno how to talk to a girl if i don’t wanna date them. i uh, maybe, don’t really know how to talk to someone as myself. as a friend. sorry.’ 

‘well i don’t know how to talk to jocks so. same boat.’ and she has this glint in her eye. like she knows. and it’s okay. 

because robin, she made it simple. she makes it easy. she says just ask and she’ll be honest and give him a yes or no. she’ll say if she can’t be touched right now, or if the movie he chose is pissing her the fuck off. and she wants the same from him. if the music is too loud, if she needs to let him not speak for a while. wants him honest and present and real. real friends. someone close. finally. 

it’s rocky at first. she’s honest and he’s not used to it. it feel like criticism more often than not. makes him see red and lash out, like he was never able to with his parents. but he apologises and she stays. and he’s learning; that’s it’s okay, he’s not perfect and that means she’s knowing the real him. and she’s still his best friend even if he has to tell her to stop picking her nail polish off around him because it makes him want to die. and she laughs at him the first time she sees him in real recovery mode; hair not styled and he has on the only sweatshirt that ever feels good when he’s like this. 

they lay on the floor in darkness and silence. it’s perfect. they share a tin of soup and a grilled cheese. it’s perfect. 

being around robin as much as he is, its so new, having someone see so many parts of you. sometimes she laughs at him asking steve ‘why’d your voice change?’ but steve didn’t even know it had. he was, he was just talking to someone else quick, being nice like you’re supposed to, attentive to make them feel good. he didn’t know his voice changed that much. 

‘girls would like you more if you talked normal to them. how you do to me.’ 

steve swallowed thickly. he just. he just doesn’t know that thats true. nancy left, he talked to her about lots of things, too many things. she like him better at the start. before some of his black tar innards spilled out. before he freaked. before he was able to paste himself back together and she saw him for what he really is. 

he thinks of his parents. how they don’t know him and still don’t like him. anxiety prickles at his fingertips at the thought of those times they do come home. 

because with them there the routine he’s carved for himself, those quiet moments of darkness that he so craves. they’re gone. now it’s tv static and plates clanging and having to show his face at dinner again. but he’s not ten anymore. now he’s an adult whose still drowning in the tension of the room, never able to say what’s really going on, never allowed to ask how they really feel, never taught how to figure his feeling out. no listening ear for steve as a child, and the ice only grew thicker with time. 

it’s his skin itching at his mother stirring her tea across the house, spoon agains porcelain. it’s the hair on the back of his neck standing up at the sound of ice clinking in his fathers scotch glass. it’s triggered memories playing over and over again. it’s being plagued, by ghosts who haunt him, who left but come back every so often, like poltergeists. polietgists with the deed to the house, and ownership over steve, through blood and fear alone. 

‘when they get back you come to mine steve yeah? you come home.’

because now theres not just robin. there’s eddie. 

he sees everything. and more. even when steve’s trying to hide. eddie sees. 

he noticed steve squinting at the hospital and asked the nurse to turn the lights down. he saw how he started zoning out at a diner with the kids, their arguing reaching a pitch, asked steve to keep him company for a smoke break. once they were outside eddie said he just needed a moment, ‘those kids can be animals’. said it and looked a him like he didn’t need an answer, let steve just breathe a focus on the sound of the wind. 

it’s like there’s a million tiny moments, a million tiny cracks in him forming the more he’s around eddie. like his soft underbelly is mewling any time he’s around, wanting attention, wanting to let eddie see. let eddie touch. 

eddie used to look at him sometimes, across the lunch hall. stare at him with an expression steve couldn’t really make sense of. he used to think it was judgment, annoyance. now he wonders if that face was confusion or interest. maybe eddie’s always been trying to figure steve out. 

once it starts. them. eddie’s everywhere. more somehow, maybe, than robin because, you know, they go there. but it’s different, from those time, with those girls. instead now he’s there and his brains off and on in a, like, magical way. a new way that makes him feel whole and, and beautiful. 

this thing they have. it’s fragile. it’s not perfect. he messes up, takes him a moment to grasp how eddie can be so so himself, always, no matter what. especially when it causes him problems. ‘why not just try and fit in?’ but the stone faced reply told steve that was the wrong thing to say, he didn’t get it but he needed to respect it. respect eddie and his choices. ‘i’m not like you steve, even if my brain shit was all gone i’d still be poor, i’d still be othered. still be a gay weirdo little freak.’ 

and steve is trying to get it. he’s learning to recognise that it’s sadness and confusion in eddie’s eyes when he visits him at work, knowing steve is having a bad day and watching him pretend. watching that mask form thick and fast, hiding the real him, protecting but also keeping everyone far far away. steve thinks maybe they’re living parallels. finding different ways to survive. neither better, neither worse. both far from perfect. 

then that pinched sadness in eddie’s eyes. watching steve pretend. cover up. that damn breaks eventually. eddie sees all of him and more. those bits he always kept locked inside. between he and himself. it all comes spilling out. 

they were supposed to be going out soon. but eddie wasn’t feeling it anymore ‘let’s just stay here, be cozy a little longer. what do you say, sweetheart?’ it does sound nice. steves so tired. but they decided. they had a plan. 

‘we said we would. and i have to buy that thing eddie. we had a plan. and i have to go to work later, so we have to do it before. like we said and then i have to work eddie.’ and before he knows it there’s tears prickling his eyes and the ceiling fan is so loud and the desk lamp is too bright and he smacks a fist to the top of his head and it hurts a little but he’s so frustrated and so overwhelmed and so confused and embarrassed, suddenly. and he can’t breath. why can’t he breath? they had a plan. 

they were supposed to go see hopper and pick something up and he has to talk to him and ask about the game because he needs hopper to like him because it’s better when el can come when all the kids hangout. it’s important that she’s happy so hopper needs to trust steve so steve was going to talk to him today and pick something up. it was the plan. hopper makes him nervous but that was the plan. and then he had to go to work. but now he can’t breathe and he feels like he needs something to hurt. 

‘but he already trusts you with el stevie. hop trusts you with anything.’ 

‘i can’t know that. not for sure. when i talk to him it needs to be perfect.’ steve paces. a pinch at his arm. a tug at his hair. pivot. pace. repeat. 

‘i heard what he said to you steve, on your birthday, he was calling you son all day. you don’t need to prove anything to him.’ 

‘i do eddie! you don’t understand. people, they lie. adults lie. they don’t say things the way they mean. i can’t fuck up talking to him. not like i always fuck up talking to my parents. i need to do it better. do it differently. because everyone always leaves. and i just don’t want to be alone again.’ and the tears really start to fall and steve can barely breath and he’s so embarrassed. shaking hands try and cover his face but the tears slip through. 

and all he can think about is the plan. going to work. his vest hanging by the door. the way the plastic tapes feel in his hands. the smell of the bleach they mop the back room with. the day stretches before him. so many things in the way. so much anxiety still to come. if he can’t start, it can’t end. he gnaws at his lip. thumps a hand to his chest, trying to breath right, trying to ground. 

‘i have to go to work’ he mutters. like a prayer. speak it in to happening. taking him away from the now. thump thump thump at his chest. ear ringing. 

eddie’s holding his arms out, giving steve the option. he speaks so calmly, so earnest. ‘you can’t go to work steve. not like this baby.’

steve rounds on him. angry. when did everything get so messed up? if he was just left alone. he should’ve stayed on his own. ‘i cant just call in sick eddie! i’m not sick and and i hate the way they’ll sound when i say it over the phone and knowing what they’ll be thinking about me. they’ll know i hate the job and think i’m lazy and realise how stupid and useless i am and fire me. i can’t afford to get fired eddie. i’d rather just go in.’ he know it comes out garbled, his cheeks on fire. 

‘i’m not letting you go in steve. i’ll sort it. i’ll go pick up robin before and she’ll cover for you, she’ll explain. and she would never. ever think that of you.’ eddie’s voice dropped octave. he speaks clearly and plainly and finally there’s a new plan to follow. a new rule for the day. 

and all steve can do is curl up in a ball and sob. curl up in a ball against eddie chest, in his arms, squeezing his t-shirt between his fingers. clenching his muscles tight, his teeth grinding together. grunting out some of the decade old scream, still stuck there but more visible to him now. 

until finally finally, he relaxes. spent and exhausted. too afraid to open his eyes and face the lamplight, face what could be in eddie’s expression. he drifts..

eventually he gets up, blows his nose and splashed water on his face, turns off all the lights and get back under the warm blanket. fills his lungs. sighs. whispers, ‘m’sorry’ 

‘don’t say that. there’s nothing to apologise for’ eddie’s so close, so warm. 

‘no one’s supposed to ever, see that.. it’s okay if you want to leave’ 

‘steve. why the fuck would i leave you right now?’ 

‘who’d wanna date someone who acts like that? it’s. it’s not good eddie. but, but it’s okay. i’m used to being alo-.’ 

‘please stop stevie. your breaking my heart here. i want to stay, i want to be here with you. i really really like you steve.’ and steve’s cheeks feel wet again. he feels flayed open and young, like a little kid who fell off the swings and everything is different suddenly. 

later later when eddie picks robin up from work she stalks in to where steve’s wrapped up on the couch. curls up into his side and exhales. she bites into his bicep. huffing a sad, annoyed little ‘dingus’ before grabbing his hand and fiddling with his fingers. 

steve feels his eyes prickle again. looking up at the ceiling he croaks out a small ‘sorry.’ for the day. for everything. for anything he can be. and everything he can’t. 

robin kneels on the sofa right next to him. growling a little and placing one of her hands at his sternum and the other at the same height on his back. like she’s forcing herself inside him, holding him together. her hands start to rub up and down quickly, frenzied and grounding for both of them. steve let’s his head hang. eyes closing at the sensation. he grunts. robin grunts back. 

eddie joins. sitting at his other side. slipping a hand in steve’s hair, soothing his scalp with long scratching fingers. and steve humms, sighs, keens. eyes closed he drifts but not away from his body, instead into it. with gratitude, and warmth. at the centre of the two best things that ever happened to him. willing to try again. be just, better. never perfect. 

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pt 3 snippet

a little happier for u @pearynice <3

ty @spectrum-spectre @vampyreddiemunson @fangirlycupcake @grandwretch for ur tags and additions, it was very inspiring

and tags for lovely @irethsune @willim-billiam-byerson @2jug2head

[call-me-maggie13]

My late 40s to early 50s boss just asked what’s wrong with 18-25 year olds these days

And as a 21 year old all I could think was

The world has been on fire since we were born and we’ve been told the adults are putting it out and now we’re old enough to realize they’ve been pouring kerosene on the flames instead of water.

Before my first birthday, 9/11 happened and the world wouldn’t let us forget it. When I was 6 years old, on September 11th, my teacher sat us down in front of a tv and showed us footage of 9/11 and then told us we weren’t allowed to cry. She said that it was real and those were real people jumping from the building because jumping was a faster death than burning.

When I was 7 years old, the economy collapsed and my family went from lower middle class to poverty, we went from healthy home cooked meals every night to mac and cheese and beans for weeks in a row. We started skipping holidays because mom and dad couldn’t keep the lights on and buy us new toys. We started wearing clothes and shoes until they fell apart.

When I was 11 years old, Sandy Hook was attacked by a grown man with a gun and 26 children and teachers were brutally murdered. My teachers never looked at us the same and I haven’t felt safe in a school since. After that, once a month we would have active shooter drills and we were taught to fight and cause as much damage as possible if an armed man entered our classroom because it gave other classes a few extra seconds to escape, it gave our siblings a few extra breaths of safety. We were taught to cover ourselves in other students blood and play dead if we weren’t hit, we were taught that we weren’t safe and we wouldn’t be safe as long as we were in school.

When I was 15 years old, my high school art teacher locked us in the classroom and told us if we heard gunshots we should line the desks up lengthwise so that they reached the other wall because that would be harder to break through than a barricade. She told us that she knew about the threats and she wouldn’t judge any of us that wanted to leave. She told us to get our siblings and stay in the buildings as long as possible, to duck in between the cars so we couldn’t be seen until we got to ours. She told us about the trail behind the auto shop that was lined with trees and led off campus. I got my brother and his friends and we left, we spent the day sitting on the floor in my living room waiting for a phone call that the people we left behind were dying.

Two weeks later, one of my friends dragged me out of a football game and forced me to go home with him. He grabbed my brothers and my best friend and forced the six of us into a two seater car before he would tell us anything. His mom worked for the school board and had told him the police found an active bomb under the bleachers in the student section, and they weren’t informing anyone because they didn’t want to incite panic.

When I was 16 years old, ISIS set off a bomb at a pop concert in Britain and killed 22 people, injuring at least 100 more. The next day at school, our teachers went over how to stay safe if we ever experienced something like that. They told us the most important thing to remember was to not remove any shrapnel because it could be keeping us from bleeding out, they said it was more important to get yourself out safely before you worried about anyone else.

When I was 18 years old, my teachers stopped teaching and put the news up on the projector and we watched as the Notre-Dame burned. The boy I had sat next to since second grade spent the entire day trying to call his sister who was studying abroad in Paris, I watched this kid I had never even seen frown fall apart in English because she wouldn’t pick up the phone. We didn’t know it at the time, but she was okay.

Six months later, my history teacher put the news on the projector again for another fire. This time, we watched as an entire continent burned for three months. We watched their sky turned orange from the smoke and their wildlife drowned in pools because they were trying to escape the heat.

When I was 19 years old, the whole world shut down because of a global pandemic. I didn’t meet a single new person for eight months, despite the fact that I had just moved across the country. I watched as people didn’t wear masks and spread it to everyone around them, I was so scared when I went back to my room every night because my roommate was immunocompromised and I was terrified I would give her Covid and kill her.

Just two months later, I watched a video of a black man being murdered by police officers. I watched the world around me explode after George Floyd’s death, people destroying businesses and police stations. I watched some of my friends realize police officers didn’t exist to keep them safe, they existed to keep the people in power in power. I learned that some of the people I had grown up with would rather watch a black man die than admit that maybe, maybe, the system was broken.

When I was 20 years old, I went to the mall with a friend to buy a birthday present and I was pulled to the ground by a twelve-year-old girl after gunshots went off in the mall. I held this child’s hands as she cried for two hours until we were evacuated by police, and then I waited with her outside and helped her look for her mom. I gave her my phone to call her mom and I watched as she called the number over and over and never got a reply. I waited with her until a police officer took her to the station to try to find out more information about the girl’s mom, I hugged this girl I had never seen before and I wished her the best. I never found out what happened to her or her mom, it keeps me up at night sometimes worrying that this little girl was orphaned.

When I was 21 years old, I started working at a daycare and exactly a week later, Uvalde happened and I found myself crying because my students are the same age those kids were. When they came in after school the next day, one of them had asked me if I had heard about Uvalde and I told her I had, I asked her if she was scared of going to school because of it. Her reply broke my heart. “We practice for it every week so that when it happens to us, we know what to do. I’m just worried that the shooter is going to start in my baby sister’s classroom and not mine.” I listened as other students with younger siblings agreed with her, one of them saying “I would take fifty bullets, if I had to to keep my little brother safe.”

Early this year, I watched Russia launched bombs into Ukraine, blowing up churches and schools and hospitals and apartment buildings. I watched as the estimated death count rose from the hundreds to the thousands to the tens of thousands. I watched men send their wives and children to bordering countries for refuge while they stayed behind to fight, knowing they would probably never see each other again.

Just four months ago, I watched as my right to medical privacy got taken away. I watched my old roommate fall apart because she was denied the right to have her dead fetus removed from her body for almost two days, I worried every time I looked away from her that the next time I saw her would be in a casket. I watched as the women around me realized the military-grade weapons that had torn children in classrooms apart were protected by the government but our bodies weren’t.

There is nothing “wrong” with my generation, we’ve experienced all these things as children and were expected to respond with patriotism for a country that continuously sacrificed their children for the “right” to military-grade weapons, that took away my freedom of choice. We are tired, we were told the world was a wonderful place then shown, at every step, how the world was a place of destruction and pain. And we are angry. We are angry because no one but us seems to be trying to fix anything. And we are scared. We are scared because our children, our nieces and nephews, our cousins and our friends children are growing up in a world that won’t protect them.

[paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles]

So Little but So Big

You’ve always been so good as my perfect little girl. My perfect little princess. My perfect little baby. 

But little has never fit you. Not exactly. 

When we met, you were heavy. A real fatty. So thick. So fully featured. So completely filled out and quite frankly…giant. Huge. It was very cute, very sweet, very attractive to me. You were beyond chubby. Living strictly in tubby territory. 

I loved it. You said you could never gain any weight. You liked food. Loved desserts. But overeating? Purposefully. Deliberately gorging. Maybe once in awhile. But you’d never just eat and eat and eat. 

I respected your choice. I was the pig between us, all things considered. I am truly giant. Truly fattened. Truly overladen with fat. Layered in lard is an apt descriptor for me. 

But recently something changed. You have started eating too much every single meal. You have started sucking down burgers and donuts and cakes and soda like it’s some kind of competition. It’s almost funny. Except you literally eat more than multiple people every day, and then get so full and excited from it you have to lay down. But no one can compete with you. 

I’ve been wanting to get you some little sized food. Frozen animal shaped chicken nuggets. Happy meals. Baby food packets. The mini dinners with those small, little, cute compartments. Only a few tiny spoonfuls of Mac and Cheese. Bite sized small brownies. Just a few small mouthfuls of green veggies. They’re perfect for someone so little.

You’re too little for those daddy sized meals… but I’m wondering. How much will it take? Do I need to stock up on 10 lunchables for each lunch? Do you need entire boxes of little snacks for each day? Are you needing whole cases of juice boxes? 

Big is a fitting descriptor. Your overblown, overfed, overinflated, wobbly arms cradle a truly fat, flabby gut that has been made so overweight that it’s permanently become a fleshy, round, mountainous orb. A globular mound of solid white frosting. A heavy water balloon that has been solidly overfilled to stretching. A dollop of soft, creamy lard sitting on top of those barrel thighs. You’re the picture of gluttony.

You’re too big. You’re getting too hungry. What am I gonna do with you? I’m curious. Is 5 kid cuisines enough? Or do you need 10? Every meal? Should I start buying them out every time I go shopping? I can’t have you going hungry. 

You’re a growing girl. 

[xesiarah]

“˚₊‧ UNLUCKY ENCOUNTER ‧₊˚ ”

Yan!Loser oc x Reader

Synopsis — some call it a coincidence, some say it's fate, but I say it's absolute utter fucking, bullshit.

—

—

"I'm sorry."

The other line hangs up, the irrational telephone beep ringing against your ear as you genuinely start feeling the symptoms of hysteria bubbling up your chest and clamming up your breathing. At this point you definitely wouldn't say no to a fucking lobotomy.

This week has been feeling like the universe is actively trying to kill you off, like as if already getting coffee spilled on you wasn't bad enough; You, in this modern age and time having to use the telephone because your phone was snatched, along with your favorite handbag, containing the newly expensive perfume you brought still half full, and then just now your partner of 2 years breaks up with you after you asked them for help because you tripped on a rock, resulting on a sprained ankle and having to distressingly limp all the way to the phone booth.

Coincidence? Yeah, I think not. Just before this hell week was 3 days after your best friend ditched you for her new boyfriend, 4 days after you fucked up an important exam, and A WEEK after you befriended that jackass freak at school. Losing a few people here and there was to be expected but, c'mon! Isn't this just a new form of torture? You're sure that he was the one that caused all this, who else is to blame!? Maybe the rumor that said he must have all that hair to hide the dent he got when he was dropped as a baby was true, I mean. He probably performed some dark sorcery on you for whatever reason.. or maybe he's a sick masochist that fucks over people who don't treat him like an accused witch during the Salem Witch Trials. — Seriously, it was as if the universe's will to make that mfs life a living hell has rubbed off on you. But you know what, yeah.. It's fine, you can live with this.

Or not. Your alarm blaring for you to awaken gladly disturbs your nightmarish slumber, this is the 3rd time. The THIRD TIME! You've dreamt about him. — of that freak that brought you to your misery, who knows, what if dreaming about him more then once was some sort of bad omen? The 3rd time being on the first day of the week nonetheless. Of course the birds are extra chirper, you thought that maybe they're basking on your torment, if they were, you hope stray bullets manages to shoot all of them dead because we aren't having that kind of bullshit today. — You have finally devised a plan to avoid Satan's reincarnate for the rest of the school year as if they were carrying a covid variant. Finally getting that horrendous goblin off your back would feel like it's the second coming of Christ, and you're not about to let any twinks get in the way of living your life free from any agony inducing minger either.

You manage to find the will to exist. Entering the gates of your school muttering prayers to God, and whatever other deity that’s listening, to please not let you set sights of his probably-smells-like-cheese, greasy ass hair, the overgrown bangs covering ⅔ of his hazel eyes that always seemed to bother you, he even has those weird Incel glasses on.. maybe that one rumor that said he had some sort of eye fungus just makes this all more oddly debatable. You wander through the empty hallways, not seeing a single student kinda unsettles you. — makes sense though, It's pretty early, and you've never seen him around this time so, the coast is clear, for now, or so you thought. — You were approaching the rows of vending machines all pushed up against the back of the building when you caught a glimpse of a silhouette you're all too familiar with, he seems to be sketching something, not that you totally cared for whatever it was. You shrug, but when you were about to turn to leave he gets up and walks towards the boys bathroom, leaving his precious notebook unattended, out in the open, where anyone could take a peak... Just a little peak, alright? You tiptoed, walking towards it in longer strides to minimize your footsteps, upon getting closer, you notice the front page already wide open, as if he purposely left it like that, — that should've been the first red flag. Because inspecting it a little further made your jaw slack, the thing he was sketching.. was you. "What the fuck, I look amazing." You mutter, it's a little creepy but you're flattered with the way he straight up beautified you, admiring it for a little longer then you should've had was a mistake though, because just when you took your eyes off of the notebook, you see him literally lurking and hiding behind the bathroom's entrance. He's wide-eyed, and a huge creepy grin plastered on his face. — Genuinely scaring the flattery out of you and making you bolt straight to the opposite direction on instinct, the way he looked at you literally triggered your flight or fight. The sound of your fast footsteps filled the hallways, your heart going pitter-patter, quite literally about to burst out your chest. Fuck. Just your luck. Guess this won't be an easy day to get through.

Morning lectures are finally over. Which means you can finally celebrate the fact that you pushed through and made it to lunchtime! It was still agonizing nonetheless, waiting around corners to let him pass kind of felt like you're stalking him, can't say that you didn't get any weird looks either. The worse part was definitely him searching and skimming through the halls, asking everyone for your whereabouts, half of them made themselves look busy so he wouldn't approach them, and the other half straight up ran the opposite direction as if he threatened to bite their toes or something. Weirdly enough, most of them ended up slipping on wet floor, which just further gives in to your suspicion of him practicing dark sorcery. Anyways, you're proud of the little progress you made, and that's all that matters for now.

—

—

Lucian sits alone, his table is tucked away in the very corners of the cafeteria, no one even daring to glance at his direction, he used to typically eat in the bathrooms but nobody wants him in their presence to the point that they all stand up and leave when he approaches a table. — there's just this weird air surrounding the dude that automatically repels people away, and no it's not body oder dammit! He just gets greasy fast, and probably for threatening to unalive a teacher but that isn't important! The love of his life is avoiding him! He chews on his fingernails as he ponders, possible reasons fill his head, and they aren't very good ones. — Did someone make you do this? Is there someone else...? That surely can't be. That's just cheating isn't it? You love him after all! He saw the glint in your eyes when you looked at the portrait he drew of you. He could even show you his shrine! Made just for you, containing such precious things you lost! — His excessive chewing of his fingernails grow desperate to the point of drawing blood, he grimaces at the sight of crimson streaks, wiping it on the sleeves of his hoodie. — it just can't be. Why would you do him wrongly like this? You smiled at him, you laughed with him instead of AT him, you sat together.. So why!? Are you gonna leave him like his mother did..? Was that all a joke to you..? He just couldn't accept this, you aren't that kind of person! You know what, he finally snaps. he just has to hear an answer from you. — "He's right behind me, isn't he?" The person right Infront of you nods, and immediately scurries away. At this point you're frozen in place, what the fuck do you do? Just make a run for it? "Can we please talk..?" He speaks behind you, his hand is on your shoulder. You swallow, the remaining bits of your conscience crumbling as you fucking make a run for it, aggressive footsteps follow behind and you realize HE'S CHASING AFTER YOU. You have never let out such a gut wrenching scream than what you just did in this exact moment. — You hide behind a wall, thinking you've lost him. Not until a hand grabs onto your arm.

—

—

He caught you. He has you pinned against the wall, not in a shoujo cutsy romantic way, he looks as if he's a starved vampire about to chomp on your neck, and not in a good way. Just no fucking way this scrawny mf outran you. Another 'unfortunately' for you too, the Gods did not answer your prayers. You're trapped in between the arms of the man you swore to avoid like the plague for the rest of the school year, this was definitely not on your 2024 bingo list. You didn't even last till' the end of the day and that lowkey hurts your pride. — But holy smokes, they say that you experience something new everyday, and this is the first time you've seen him up close, messy bedroom hair, teary eyes that looked like he hasn't slept since the first star wars movie came out. Wowza. If he actually made an effort, or if he didn't have such unsettling vibes, you can't lie, he'd be a revelation hottie. — ... Shit. Not the time to be thinking about his potential glow up. — Poor guy, watching him trying to maintain eye contact but just failing horribly is kinda cute.

......

......

......

The fuck? Your face scrunches up just after you snap back out of, whatever that was. Seriously.. say WHAT now? That was a demon possession right there, you need to stop acting as if his existence didn't just cause your downfall unprovoked. "You're avoiding me.." His voice disrupts the silent war you were having with yourself. It sounded meek, he genuinely looked like a shivering wet dog, with those.. tears boiling up his eyes, and.. quivering lips. Fuck. What if you'd just slide down his arms and escape? Hell no, if someone walked in they'd think you were giving him a blowjob and that's honestly worse then whatever's going on right now. "A-Answer me!" He yells(?) hesitantly, the dude genuinely looks like he's about to burst into tears any minute, you're surprised how he somehow grew the balls to yell at you though. "Okay, dude I'm sorry..?" — It's sad how he goes ballistic over a 'friendship' that lasted a week, but he did show you the list of student names he wanted to glock, and you listened to some of his nerdy ramblings, so you guess he did cherish your short time together even if you gave him absolutely zero fucks. — he goes completely quiet for a minute before he finally bursts out crying, fat tears are running through his acne filled face as he drops to the ground. "I really just wanted a someone-" He says in-between hiccups, he's crying as if you killed his mom or something. You decided to just wait it out until he grew tired but his wails started growing louder till' you were forced to crouch down and comfort him. "H-hey, uhm.." Fuck. Screw it. You know what, Who cares if your life starts crashing down, it already was unsalvageable from the very beginning anyway. Everyone needs a friend and you're too nice for this. You finally give in, breathing in a sigh of defeat. "How can I fix this?" His cries shimmer down and you swear to fucking God you think you just saw him flash a smirk. This bitch looks like he's bout to spit out the most outta pocket bullshit. — and he indeed did not disappoint. The two unexpected words coming out of his mouth just further inspires you to jump off a bridge. "d-date.. me."

......

......

......

Maybe hiring a hitman on yourself wouldn't be so bad.

[raointean]

Funniest responses* to the "What does "Blorbo" mean?" question

(In reference to my silmarillion fandom linguistics project, the results of which you can find in my "survey says" tag)

*not necessarily the full response, some are just fragments from longer responses. Also, I'm not filtering by "correct" or "incorrect" responses

Special Little Guy (gender neutral)

Lmao. That's like, my special little guy. He takes up my brain space. I'm rotating him.

you know how lilo from lilo and stitch has that doll she made, complete with backstory? basically like that

one's blorbo is a character one cares a lot about. it kind of has like... condescending or woobifying connotations? like expressing that Maedhros is your blorbo is sort of uh... one imagines like, a chibi Maedhros. cute, not scary. but it doesn't necessarily imply the speaker has distorted perception of the character in general, just a sort of fondness

The character a person wants to use as a doll/stuffed animal

A character who the author loves too much (and knows it)

"OMG Blorbo was in the new trailer for 5 seconds!" is a common statement

which often provokes... strange thoughts at 11pm.

Beloved character who you think about entirely too much and also enjoy putting in Situations

It implies some degress of being pathetic as well.

No relation to Blorbo Baggins.

The character you put under a microscope, put through the cheese grater, put into the salad spinner, and squeeze like a plushie.

A beloved character whom you want to both stick in a microwave and protect with all you have

character one fangirls* over (*gender neutral)

Just a little guy, whom I am deeply enamored of and just want to squish on the head and see what happens.

Favourive character, often pathetic, someone to pity as much as love

obsessed. baby. Will run my mouth off about them

the word "favorite" wasn't enough to encapsulate "the exact kind of character made specifically for me in the lab" either. my friendgroup started calling those types of characters "callouts" because they were calling you out by existing Exactly To Your Tastes

(not necessarily in a way that condones their actions, but deeply beloved nonetheless)

The "cinnamon roll" kind. Idk I love Namo but I'd never call him a blorbo, it just wouldn't feel right.

??

dear?

My personal favourite character, whom I want to adopt even if he's a dark lord

A particularly beloved (or beloathed-in-a-positive-way) character.

Generally seem to be problematic favs.

I think it was originally meant to be somewhat mocking, but it was wholeheartedly adopted and is now used unironically.

A favored character that usually is subjected to great amounts of trauma and or fluff.

A favourite character, usually male

The obsession character

Feanor/character you are unreasonably attached to esp. if they are a Bad Person TM

The character who is most special and beloved to you (and often that means you're gonna put them through The Horrors)

a character that makes you chew on the bars of your enclosure

Special little character from my shows(tm)

usually having an aura of kicked wet puppy (brimby)

You'd build a shrine to them

Idk, ask the children 😹. Er. Hot character you like? I'm sure people have very complex definitions explaining why they like the hot character but I don't take fandom that seriously.

Your guy (gender neutral), not a comfort character, but perhaps a character you would like to see experience the worst situations possible (affectionate)

occasionally blorbo from my floor (my cat)

Just a widdle pathetic guy 🥺😈

A favourite character, thuogh usually one you squash like a stress ball or squeaky toy rather than put gently on a shelf

Ungoliant

Guy (gender neutral) who I hold in my hand like a neat rock and look at

character whom i will put in a glass and shake

character you are putting in the metaphorical salad spinner

A favourite character, often a war criminal treated like they did nothing wrong, they are a little kitty

(character you're particularly attached to and usually put in physically and/or mentally torturous situations for fun)

A character you’ve imprinted on and like seeing in misery. They’re your wet cat you enjoy pouring water on but also toweling off

Your favorite character, to whom no harm may come (except in the service of angst)

my guy. my friend my buddy. the person

Literally your favourite ever character, but not like you want to f*ck them, more like "how much can i let them suffer?"

Your favouritest character from media that you like to put in all kinds of situations, but is not morally problematic.

favourite character you want to bully

a fictional character that you like to an obsessive amount, typically more than other favourite characters; your specialist little guy; someone you are unwell about; you don’t always have to like your blorbo per day but they must take up constant thought space

[janitorhutcherson]

Groceries, Taxes, & Laundry (MSchmidt Fluff)

hey guys, it's me. i'm finally back. did y'all miss me? the writing of this is a lil diff, sooooo please enjoy and lmk what you think!

content: pure fluff yall.

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

Grocery shopping with Mike Schmidt is… special, to say the least. He absolutely despises it. The dreaded time comes around at the end of every week, your vegetables in the fridge starting to wilt, the meat from the previous trip used up, and all of your snacks have been devoured from late night munchie runs to the pantry (xoxo i love gardening!!!). He knows it has to happen. He knows you’ll wake him up early on Sunday morning like always, because apparently it’s “better to get it out of the way,” which he thinks is, well, to put it lightly, utter bullcrap.

You’ll drag him and Abby out to your local grocery store, her drowsy and jittery all at the same time with the promise of pancakes from a local diner after. Once you arrive, you’ll pull out all of the far-too-expensive reusable bags out of the trunk of Mike’s dingy car, ready to fill them with the necessities. Why get those for 3 bucks when you can get the plastic ones for free? He’ll never understand your logic, something about saving the environment, but it’s okay, he loves you enough not to complain, at least out loud.

The fluorescent lights of the room filled with half asleep employees hits Mike’s eyes like he’s looking directly into the sun. He lets out a small grumbled sigh as he takes in the scent of sterile cleaning supplies and produce mixed in one, with the strange almost play doh like smell of the bakery. Your eyes cut over to him, eyebrows raised, Abby’s hand in yours as she rubs her droopy eyes. Mike can’t help but to crack a small smirk, his lips pursed together. “What?” he’ll question innocently, letting out a small snicker as you go deeper into the dreary establishment. 

At the produce aisle, Mike shivers a little as the water from the misting sprinkler on the shelves hits his bare skin. He should’ve worn his jacket today, he usually does, and he’s regretting the one time he hasn’t. Your eyes are glancing over carrots, broccoli, cucumbers, and squash, all that are somehow both too ripe and too.. What's the word... unripe? Sure, he’ll go with that. His hand reaches out to grip yours in a gentle grasp as Abby points to a particularly fluffy bushel of broccoli. “I want that one! It looks like pretty trees,” she giggles out, finally starting to wake with the day. You let out a giggle of your own and Mike smiles because of how pretty your laugh is.

Next, you’re in the snack aisle, filling the cart with doritos, barbeque chips, pringles, salt and vinegar chips (mike gags when you eat them too close to him), peanut butter filled pretzels, whatever can go in Abby’s lunch box and whatever is tastiest. Mike insists on buying the cheap queso, his nose scrunching up at the price of the name brand one. He knows it doesn’t taste any different.

Now you’re looking at meats, finding chicken breasts and filets, steaks, pork, whatever was on your list from meal prepping. Yes, meal prepping, Mike did that now. Apparently stable people with stable lives who had stable relationships did that. He’d grown fond of sitting over a recipe book with you on Saturday nights, really, shoulder to shoulder, pressed up on the couch well after Abby had gone to bed. Something about it felt safe, a kind of domestic feeling he wasn’t used to.

You’re basically done now, and he couldn’t be more relieved as you make your way towards the dairy section. He grabs a few things, string cheese, yogurt, cream cheese, cheese slices for sandwiches for work. Oh, did he mention he works in construction now? It’s stable, makes good money, and he’s home on time to see you, to be a husband-not-yet-husband (he plans to propose soon, but that’s another story), a brother-more-like-a-father, a person with a regular schedule. He looks over at you, watching as you and Abby skim over the different selections of chocolate and strawberry milk, finally settling on a carton of strawberry. He once again scrunches his nose, smiling all at once. “Nasty,” he mumbles out. Abby playfully hits his arm and you lean in for a kiss.

Finally, thank god, you push the cart towards the bakery section, grabbing bread and a sweet treat or two for the week. Cookies, a birthday cake for no particular reason, cheese danishes, whatever his little family was feeling for the week, that’s what it’d be. This week, it was a huge box of chocolate chip cookies and some kind of cherry pastry he’d never had before. You three finally head to checkout, where everything is stuck in those stupid reusable bags and the price of everything you got feels obscenely huge for what’s in your cart, but he pays it anyway. Walking to the car, in the trunk the groceries go as you all climb in one by one, ready to head for pancakes.

As he reverses the car out of his good (only because it was so goddamn early) parking spot, he can’t help but sigh, this time with contentment as Abby rambles on about a new imaginary (hopefully) friend, your own grin wide as you ask questions, making sure she feels heard. “I love you guys, love doing things with you guys,” Mike mumbles out, reaching his hand over to your thigh as he glances back at Abby too. And it was true, he’d do anything with you two. Hell, if all his life consisted of grocery shopping, taxes, and laundry? Yeah, he’d be ok with that too.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt4

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader , Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

warnings: fingering

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I part 7 I part 8 I part 9 I part 10

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

instagram

A faint cry is what had awoken me from my slumber. I sat up and rubbed my eyes before making my way to Yelena’s nursery to change and nurse her before burping and rocking her back to sleep.

I’d looked at the time as I rocked her back to sleep reading ‘5:53am’. There was no point in going back to sleep if I had to wake up at 6:30, so I decided that I was gonna go to the kitchen to start breakfast for my family.

On my way to the kitchen, I stopped in the living room grabbing the small bose speaker I had charging before continuing my journey to my big, beautiful kitchen. I opened the fridge and grabbed out enough food to make feed a village. Eggs, Munster Cheese, Turkey Bacon, Turkey Sausages, Greek Yogurt, Granola, Strawberries, Blueberries, Pineapples and Bananas.

I hear faint but heavy footsteps coming close to the kitchen while I mixed seasoning with the eggs before cooking them. I felt arms snake around my waist and a face being nuzzled in the crook of my neck before feeling faint kisses making their way up to my jaw.

“Good Morning beautiful, Did Yelena wake you up again?” I turn around to face my boyfriend before I rake my hand through his crazy bed hair.

“Yes Logan, Yelena did wake me up.” a smirk made its way on my lips as I saw a frown make its way on his.

“I thought I told you to wake me up when she did. You’ve been working too much and you need rest.” he said sincerely. I could never get over the look in his eyes, I could get lost in those greenish blue orbs forever.

“Babe, you think you’re not tired too?” a chuckle makes it way past my lips.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m tired. All that matters is I got her. I got her and I have you, and I’m determined to never let you go again” he said as he snuggled deeper into my body. A piercing sound is what pulled me away from him, it was getting louder and louder until.

“Good Morning sleepy head. Yelena woke up so I heated up some breast milk you have in the freezer and I rocked her back to sleep, we should have about another hour and a half before she wakes up again” Lando said as he walked into our shared bedroom, his feet heavy as they padded against the bedroom floor.

A smile peaks on my face “Thank you handsome. I love you so much, you’re too good to me” I said sleepily as I welcomed Lando back into the comfort of our king size bed.

it had been 4 months since I’ve given birth to Yelena and it had been the best 4 months of my life.

I mean I really did have it all, I had an amazing boyfriend, a wonderful daughter, whom had an amazing dad, I had gotten a job at McLaren as Lando’s food prep and nutrition manager which allowed me to travel with him and keep my daughter with us.

After I’ve gotten the job, one of the first people I told besides Lando, was Logan.

That moment we shared after I’d given birth to Yelena replays in my mind almost every morning and I can’t help but yearn for us to be a happy family together.

We all can’t have what our hearts yearn for though, can we? Not after what Logan did to me, the way he made me feel, how much I wanted to die with every moment I stayed with him, how ungrateful he was whenever I did something for him, the way he hurt me day after day, how he always told me I was crazy when I brought up him not loving me and how he tried to win me back after telling him I was pregnant again before leaving.

Logan was excited to hear that McLaren had offered me the job as Lando’s Food Prep and Nutrition manager seeing as that it would allow not only me to travel with them but Yelena could too. Logan wouldn’t have to resort to seeing her every 2 months or whenever his job could let him escape for a minute.

Traveling with Yelena would be a bit of a hassle but thank god that Lando’s current nutrition manager had 3 more months before his contract was up so that allowed me to mentally prepare myself for having to travel with a baby for work.

“What’re you thinking of?” Lando mumbles against my neck as he rubs his hand up and down my side before they landed on my waist and drawing imaginary circles.

“Us. How lucky I am to have you with me even when I was pregnant and how you stayed, even during the hard nights.” tears welled up in my eyes as I recall some night we had. “How whenever she was keeping me awake with the kicking how’d you stay up with me and rub my belly until she stopped, how you’d wake up whenever I had my weird cravings, because there were so many” I let out a sniffle as the tears that once threatened to fall came pouring down.

a sniffle leaves Lando’s nose “so many” he lets out a light chuckle “and you know what Y/N/N?”

“What?”

“Even though Yelena is not biologically mine, she’s the second best thing that’s happened to me. The Miami win is first, you’re third” a chuckle elapses past my lips as I playfully swat his arm “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You’re number one, you always have been and you always will be. I wish to live in no world at which you are not in, I’d rather die than let you live without me beside you.”

I’d rather die than let you live without me beside you. If Lando knew about the same dream I’ve been having since that moment between me and Logan in the delivery room I don’t think he’d be saying this. I’ve made my feelings very clear to Logan that night I left our apartment and Lando knows, so why am I dreaming about him, about us being a happy family?

I want to confide in someone about these dreams but I don’t want them to go to Lando with it before I’m ready to tell him. What would Lando think if I did tell him? Would he leave me? Would there be a possible explanation on why I keep having these reoccurring dreams? Do I want to be with Logan? No. No, that one I’m very adamant on. I want nothing to do with Logan relationship wise. I mean he has been a great dad to Yelena but he’s not fit to be my boyfriend or husband, so co-parenting it is for us.

I mean I’m not complaining about that right? I’m the one that left him knowing I was pregnant, I’d be an ass if I showed up to a grand prix walking into the Williams garage being like “Surprise Logan, we have a daughter” you know, I wasn’t that stubborn enough to do that to him.

“We should go back to sleep but I have better plans” a smirk made its way on Lando’s face as he reaches for the covers to put it over our heads. His hand travels lower before they reached the waistband of my already soaked panties, his fingers moving the fabric to the side before moving them between my fold slicking them in my juices. I can feel Lando’s fingers ghosting my aching hole before a cry breaks my heavy breathing.

No, No, please go back to bed I thought “I’ve got her Y/N/N, just stay here and wait for me to come back.” Lando presses a kiss to my lips before he retreats to the nursery. The thought of my boyfriend taking on a dad role turning me on. I fully removed my panties and stuck two fingers in my aching cunt awaiting Lando’s return, before I could actually give myself some pleasure my phone buzzes on the nightstand.

A loud and frustrated sigh leaves my lips as I flip over and look at the caller ID “Logan ‘Merica Sargeant” a shaky breath escapes past my lips as I press answer

“we need to talk”

ENJOYYYYY (i have work)

Taglist

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999

[sammylkcho]

"Deeper, sinking, ever frowning" P1- ?

You had to cover two coworkers' shifts in the afternoon due to a "family emergency" that both of them had at the same time—quite the coincidence. You accepted covering their shifts without any issue because you didn't want to argue over the cheap excuse they were using, not to mention you already had enough of your own problems. So, your shift that was supposed to end at 4 p.m. stretched until around 8:45 after covering both shifts.

When you finished packing up your things and saying goodbye to your night-shift coworkers, wishing them a good evening, you decided to walk home. It was only four blocks, and you'd be there in no time. You were eager to get home since you and your fiancé had agreed to make some delicious cheese empanadas when you got off work, meaning you'd have to apologize for being late.

While imagining the dramatic little scolding Sebastian would give you when you arrived, a small smile played on your lips as you twisted the silver ring on your finger back and forth.

You couldn’t wait for the big day. You already had a bunch of ideas to share with the wedding planner.

Only two more blocks to go before you reached your home, and just thinking about the empanadas was making your mouth water. Sebastian had passed on his love for them to you.

You were about to pull out your phone from your pocket to text Sebastian that you were almost home when the flashing red and blue lights stopped you in your tracks.

You were already there. You didn’t have any blocks left to go.

You blinked several times to realize that police tape was surrounding much of the street, along with three police cars parked right in front of your house.

This must be a mistake, right? Maybe there had been some kind of disturbance on the street or at a neighbor’s house, and they wanted to see if anyone knew anything.

It had to be that.

With shaky steps, you approached the police cordon, only for one of the officers to roughly grab your shoulder, causing you to stumble awkwardly over your own feet.

"Excuse me, do you live here?" asked a blond-haired officer, holding a small notepad in his left hand.

You looked him up and down for a few seconds before nodding, your head lowered, unsure of what was going on.

"Yes, I live here with my fiancé. Has something happened?"

The word "fiancé" left a sweet taste in your mouth, but you brushed it aside for the moment to focus on what was happening and to find out with more certainty why they seemed to be investigating your house.

When you lifted your head, you noticed the officer rubbing his nose in frustration, as if irritated by something in particular.

The seconds dragged on, feeling longer with each passing moment. The silence was maddening. You had no idea what was going on, and that was frustrating. Was Sebastian even aware of this? Where was he, anyway?

"You see... There was a murder of about nine people recently, and the killer wasn't found at the scene. Now," the officer paused, tapping the small notepad with his index finger, seemingly trying to find the right words. "it seems that your fiancé, Sebastian Solace, was the perpetrator of those murders."

"Excuse me, but that has to be a mistake." you said, your body going rigid as you listened to the officer from start to finish.

You felt as if you were on autopilot, no longer fully aware of your surroundings after hearing his words. The world seemed to stop for a long fraction of a second as you tried to process what you'd just been told.

The situation felt unreal, like a bad dream you were having because you’d fallen asleep at the counter during one of your breaks.

Sebastian could never have done something so horrible, let alone murdered nine innocent people. He would never do something like that.

The Sebastian you knew was the most loving, caring, and playful person you'd ever met. He was both your best friend and your future husband. He’d been with you through every difficult moment. He was the little and big brother who liked to annoy his two siblings, reluctantly helping his younger brother with his homework when he came over, and buying little gifts for his older sister, things they used to do together when they were younger. He was the best son, always there for his mom, even if they argued over some silly thing. He always apologized to her for being an idiot.

Sebastian Solace wasn’t capable of something like this.

You forced yourself to snap back to reality when the thought of finding Sebastian crossed your mind.

If the police had been here for a while now, they must’ve found him already, right? They wouldn’t have taken him away to the station or somewhere worse by now.

Court would be too soon of a step, and you hoped they hadn’t taken him there yet.

"Miss, I ask you once again to come with me for questioning—" The officer’s words fell on deaf ears as you rushed past him, your eyes scanning for any sign of Sebastian.

Your gaze darted back and forth as you tried not to trip over your own feet, your body trembling more and more from the anxiety eating away at you.

When your eyes landed on a particular police car, with about four officers surrounding it, you got the idea that someone might be inside.

You hurried over, faster than before, not caring about what might happen next.

You felt a brush against your shoulder, like you’d bumped into someone, but you paid it no mind and got as close as you could to the car’s tinted windows. It was hard to see inside, but when you squinted, you made out a figure handcuffed in the middle of the back seat. Blue eyes met yours for a split second before you were abruptly shoved back.

A policewoman had pushed you, gripping both your shoulders to face you.

The only thing you noticed was her lips moving quickly and firmly, as if she was reprimanding you for something. But you didn’t bother to process her words, nor her appearance—your mind wasn’t on your side at that moment, nor was it focusing on reality.

You were only thinking of those blue eyes you had seen for a fleeting moment but had known almost all your life.

They’d already arrested him. Had they even given him a chance to explain or defend himself? Once again, the situation felt too surreal.

You wanted to do something, anything, but you didn’t feel strong enough.

You had to do something—you couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.

[sc0tters]

Birthday Do Over | Quinn Hughes

summary: it’s Quinn’s birthday and you can’t help but fuel your need to see him.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing?

word count: 1.53k

authors note: I wasn’t going to write this but when the request came in and it being Quinn’s birthday the opportunity was too great to pass up. Kaylin if you see that I used your answers to my cake questions, surprise? This piece is a lot of flashbacks people so pay attention to the regular italics!

You knew you shouldn’t have been doing this.

But as the three red bulls in your system kept you up you couldn’t help it as you stood in the kitchen baking.

October 14th, Quinn’s birthday and his first since you two were no longer talking.

Surely you should have been fine staying at home enjoying the comfort of your bed but instead you were in the bakery.

Quinn watched you start your dream as you bought the bakery but he never got to watch you fully live out the dream as you two broke up before it opened.

So the cake you made was from your memories of what he liked eating at late hours of the night in your apartment.

Bowls of different icing flavours were in a line “why can’t I try it yet? Quinn complained watching your hand swat his away “because I’m not ready so you need to wait.” You explained in a duh tone.

Over the last week you had been building a menu that had each of your favourite flavours that you had made throughout the years, as well as some new ones and those were what he was meant to try.

Quinn let out a huff causing you to smile “shut your eyes.” You brought your spoon into one of the bowls as the boy listened to you.

His eyes screwed shut as his mouth hung open “let me know what you think of when you taste this.” The spoon dropped a bit of icing onto his tongue causing him to close his mouth.

The sweet flavours melted into his tongue as he moved his arms getting excited “that was delicious.” Quinn announced as he opened his eyes to look at you again.

It made you laugh “that isn’t a flavour,” you shook your head as you sent him a look waiting for an answer “give me a hint baby.” The hockey player pouted as he reached over the counter to bring you to him.

His hands wrapped around your waist as you stood between his legs “it’s this one.” You brought the bowl to his nose but he still couldn’t get it “it’s my take on cream cheese-” the gasp Quinn let out made him sound like a child who just learnt Santa wasn’t real.

You smiled shaking your head “it was cheese!” The American grabbed a spoon again so that he could taste it again.

It was clear that the dials in his brain were turning as he came to terms with it “you make cheese good.” His words made you laugh “you give me too much credit.” You corrected him placing the bowl back on the table.

Quinn brought his hands from your waist to your jaw “don’t think I give you enough at all.” He mumbled running his hand over that bone as you leaned down to kiss him.

Both of you got sucked into it as the world felt like it stopped around you.

But it didn’t and the smoke alarm started going off “shit!” You groaned quickly pulling away from him.

As you whipped your icing you smiled remembering that night in the apartment that you now moved out of with the extra cash you had been making you were able to use to get more space.

It was another reminder of a milestone that Quinn missed yet still it wasn’t out of his own choice.

Part of you should have felt sorry for his neighbours as you two argued for what felt like the twentieth day in a row.

Your hand raked through your messy hair as you tried to remain calm “maybe I should go.” You shrugged avoiding Quinn’s irritated scoff “you always leave when things get fucking tough y/n!” He complained totally unaware of how much smaller you got in that moment.

If you chewed at your cheek any harder you would have drawn blood “look Quinn I love you.” You blurted out as you dug your nails into your palm “but this isn’t working anymore.” The hockey player was your world, that’s what happens when you date someone for three years.

But the reality that the arguments were now outweighing the normal conversations that you two had was weighing on you and the t was no longer at a point where you could act like it wasn’t around anymore “what are you trying to say?” The American knew what you were trying to say but he prayed that this was one time that he was so wrong.

Tears formed in your eyes “this is goodbye Q,” you frowned walking over to him as you pressed your lips against his cheek.

Before Quinn could process that you had left him the door to his apartment shut with a slam.

You were gone.

The final touches always scared you the most. It was like the moments when you screwed here were the ones where you wanted to cry.

Which was why you did a happy dance as Quinn’s birthday message was written out perfectly “perfect!” You smiled placing the piping bag on the table.

Below you sat absolute cake of his dreams, the red velvet cake and cream cheese frosting were complimented by the blue, green and white icing colours that you used.

The gold edible topper balls were for how you saw Quinn. Your shining star that could guide you anywhere.

If you had to find Quinn as a cake you would be looking right at it.

The boy grew impatient as he watched you work “this is an art Quinn.” You explained joy giving him the chance to complain “you put too much pressure on yourself.” You had been tasked with making a cake for Luke’s birthday and you weren’t going to screw this up.

You sent him a look trying to tell him to shut up “I’m trying to make this perfect.” You spoke in a duh tone as you were working on making the icing the perfect shade of red “you could give Luke cake batter and he’d love you.” Quinn’s voice made you laugh as you shook your head.

Luke was definitely the easiest man to impress.

You prayed that Quinn still lived in the same apartment that he was in before the summer. Fears that someone new occupied his home were greater than the ones you held about the ideas of him moving on.

As the sun had barely came over Vancouver you were just grateful that the doorman of the building recognised you because you would have been waiting for hours without him.

It was quiet in the building though as once you stepped into the elevator you hadn’t seen another person. Which is why you thought you were successful in getting to Quinn’s front door unnoticed.

But of course the universe wasn’t going to make your life that straight forward so as you placed the box on his doormat a laugh let you know that you were no longer alone.

Quinn leaned against the wall as he pulled his headphones out of his ears “you’re up early.” He smirked remembering how he could never get you out of bed early.

His bed was warm, and that was your excuse “Quinn!” You groaned reaching out to feel him no longer there “yeah baby?” He smiled seeing your eyes barely open.

Your pout was clear “come back to bed.” You tapped his side of the mattress “I’ve got to get to the rink.” The hockey player sat on your bed next to you as you let your head rest on your pillow once more.

He watched as your breathing slowed once more signalling that you were asleep “I’ll see you soon love.” The boy leaned over to press a kiss to your temple before he quietly tucked you into the duvet letting you bask in the comfort of his beds warmth.

You awkwardly picked the box up “I came to drop this off for you.” You explained turning to show him what you were holding.

Being a hockey player a cake wasn’t something you got in the middle of the season “thank you y/n.” He smiled seeing your cheeks turn red “I should get going.” You sucked at your teeth as you sent him a nod trying to move past him.

Quinn knew that he couldn’t let you leave again “wait,” the hockey player sighed feeling his shoulders grow lighter.

Your nod made him smile “you want to come inside?” Quinn’s offer made him feel nervous as you stayed quiet “I won’t be able to eat this cake by myself and if I get Brock over I won’t get any-” he began to ramble before you cut him off.

The giggle you let out made him go quiet “you know I’ll never say no to cake.” Your confession made him nod as he opened his door “it’s about time we caught up.” The door shut behind you both but this time it wasn’t the end of a chapter.

No this was the start of your second chance, the redo if you will. And this time you two were going to make sure that you didn’t screw it up.

This time was going to count.

[thatoneguydownthestreet]

Hey so how would lilia feel about apocalypse yuu and the obvious world ending war and after effects from where yuu is from?

Thank you for feeding us apocalypse yuu <3

I started maniacally laughing as soon as I read the name lilia

FEM ALIGNED DNI

How Lilia Vanrouge reacts to the war and its effects: 

Lilia would say your relationship was pretty good. As nameless and as vague as it was. It was...peaceful. 

It was nice.

You were learning to trust people, to trust him. To let your guard down just a little bit more each day. To speak your mind and make decisions and to just simply walk with him without looking over your shoulder every few seconds. 

He’ll never forget that feeling of happiness and relief when you fell asleep with him right there next to you for the first time, or when you saw him enter a room and he saw your shoulders drop just that much. 

Once, in the pop music club room, Cater had asked him how he got you to relax around him so easily. He only gave a small chuckle and a vague response, as he himself didn’t truly know at the time. 

He still doesn’t. only having a few loose theories here and there, but he is grateful to be able to know you just a little bit more than the average person. To be able to live this long to see you come here, to this world, scared and confused and hopelessly, utterly lost, and then to see you start to really live for the first time.

He hopes he hopes that he’ll be blessed enough to live to see you thrive. 

Honestly? he thinks it’s because of something simple. So, so simple

He listens.

Not to say the others don’t of course, they listen!

they just ...don’t really believe you. 

Lilia doesn’t blame them, honestly.

It truly feels like you exaggerate your past and lack of knowledge at times.

The most obvious example he can think of is when epel, that pretty first year boy, gifted you one of those beautiful red apples that grew on his parents farm, only for you to look at it with confusion and distrust. 

You didn’t know what an apple was.

You didn’t know what most fruits were period. (Or cheese, or most meats,or most vegetables, he thinks he saw you reboot like an old computer the first time you saw milk) Often confusing the names and refusing to eat them if you forgot what they were. 

It was at that point where he could tell your rag tag little group of friends started to doubt your words. Just a bit.

He would have too, if not for the clear, heavy distress that simply couldn’t be faked that was ever so evident on your face when he'd asked.

“Perfect, do you really not know what any of these fruits are”, he has taken extra care to keep this conversation playful. He wasn’t trying to embarrass you after all. 

You simply huffed, a bit of frustration showing. 

Lilia ignored the little happy spark he got from seeing you show what you were feeling. You were getting better at that.

“Of course I don’t! we don’t have fresh fruit in the tunnels! Not to mention things like "cheese" and dont even get me started on good meat!”, you said it like it so obvious...

You never explained what the tunnels were. But lilia could guess.

He had a bad feeling about them either way....

So yes. The others listened. But you could both see crystal clear that they took what you said with a heavy grain of salt. 

Lilia on the other hand, believed every word. Or at least tried too.

So when you asked him to swing by Ramshackle saying you wanted to show him something, how could he refuse?

Really, how could he?

....

Lilia Vanrouge didn't know what he was expecting. He knew it was probably something big, judging from your earlier tone of voice.

But this....

this was just sickening.

you sat shirtless on the floor, with your arms out in the air in front of you. 

with your scars on full display. 

there were (oh great seven) there were slash marks all across your chest. Ragged and uneven and ugly. Looking like whatever cut them in took extra care to truly rip and tear your flesh apart.

There were burn marks on your shoulders and your stomach. Looking like they came from both fire and electricity. The electric burns spiderwebbing their way up the side of your neck and around your sides.

There were what looked to be claw marks and dog bites on your stomach as well, like you were almost frantically mauled to death and just barely made it out with your life.

There was a circular hole he didn't know the cause of on both sides of your right forearm, the underside scar being in the same spot but significantly worse.

There were like deep (deep) bruises that he could see everywhere on your body.

and then there were the marks on your back....

There were whip marks and lashes absolutely everywhere. Slashed across every which way, overlapping with each other and digging into your flesh. there were a few places that he swore had less skin than others. and oh God some of them only looked a few months old. 

Some of them were fresh when you came here.

Lilia didn’t know what the rest of your body looked like, but he already knew that your back was in the worst condition out of everything.

A small whimper snapped him out of his thoughts.

You were still on the floor, now sifting slightly, like you were embarrassed.

Embarrassed. What an odd little human.

Lilia immediately got down on the floor and sat in front of you, dust and possible bugs be damned.

He didn't touch you, only looking at your face and tried to make eye contact.

He tried his best to avoid looking at your neck. The lighting in this old dorm was bad but he swore he could still see a slash-

"Y/N....can you please look at me?", gentle. Just keep the tone gentle for now.

You still looked away from him. Lilia sighed.

Gently, oh so gently, he brought his hand to your face and slowly turned you head towards him.

You didn't flinch. Not once! And if lilia silently celebrated this feat later? Well, that was his business, and his alone.

Your eyes held a hint of fear when you looked at him. Fear of rejection.

Why would he ever push you away for something like this?

...Did someone do that before?

He heard you let out a faint, shaky breath, trying to find your voice.

He still didn't say anything. Just let you take your time. He couldn't rush something like this.

So he sat there, just out of reach as to not overwhelm you, as you took a deep breath and tried to compose yourself.

"So uh...I'm sure you have questions", you tried to say it in a way that lightened the mood, but your voice came out small.

It was fine. You couldn't lighten something like this either way.

The fae infront of you looked at you with the patients of a someone who's lived a dozen lifetimes and counting, which made you relax just a bit more.

Good.

"That I do perfect, but make no mistake, you are not obligated to answer"

"No! No, I- I want you to know. I wouldn't have shown you otherwise...", your voice trailed off.

Lilia took a deep breath.

Ok. Sharing scares.

Sharing memories.

Sharing war stories.

He could do that. He's done it before hundreds of times. He could do it again.

He just...didn't want to do it with someone so young. Someone who had absolutely zero business doing any type of life or death fighting.

Unfortunately, life was a total bitch and just loved putting him in these exact situations.

"Ok...ok. so why don't you tell me about...this one first", lilia pointed to the circular hole that went through your arm. He wanted to know what caused it.

(And maybe. Just maybe, find something that could heal it)

You sighed a bit. He thinks in relief? And smiled just a tad.

"Ok... that one was caused when me and a rescue team were trying to locate one of the medics that had gone missing during a surprise raid on the southwest base.... I wasn't even supposed to be there really...", you trailed off again. Your eyes glossing over a little.

Well. That couldn't happen.

The last thing he wanted here was for you to relive any one of these scars.

"What was the medics name?", it was the only thing he could ask, really. He didn't understand much of what else you had said.

You took a deep breath. Right.

You weren't there anymore.

"Caroline. Her name was Caroline. And she has a sister named Kate.... she's the one who put in the request for her to be found. Her body, at the very least"

Lilia began to wonder what exactly happened during these "raids". And why it required children to clean up the aftermath.

"Caroline. She was the medic. Ok.... you said you weren't supposed to be there?"

You looked a little sheepish at that.

"Yeah... our base was short on explosives manufacturers so they sent me. I was still learning but apparently I knew enough to go out there anyway. Heh...yeah, it didn't turn out too well"

....explosive manufacturers?

Lilia had met and worked with plenty if mages that specialized in more.. dramatic shows of magic. Especially during the wars.

How, lilia wondered, was something like that simulated without magic?

...He didn't know if he wanted to find out.

Instead of asking what in the seven an explosive manufacturer was, he asked:

"Why did you have to go though? Surely there were other uh...people in your field? That had nore experience", he kept his tone soft, trying to keep you unaware of the anger that was slowly building in his gut.

You silently shifted where you were sitting, looking like you regretted this more and more.

Damn.

Carefully, he added, "where were the others?"

"...active combat was getting more and more rare....no one thought- I mean- we just needed farmers and hunters and medics more than we needed weapons at the time"

The look on your face was...hard to describe as you struggled to explain your past situation as quick as possible. Like you would be punished if you didn't do it fast enough.

Hm...

"Y/N...", lilia started slowly

He had an idea of what your world was like.

He had a good idea of what your world was like.

And he was hoping that he wasn't right.

Your head raised a bit. Making eye contact with him and calming down just a little. Good. But he was going to feel all the more guilty about what he was about to say.

"Were you by chance, involved in any type of warfare?"

Lilia didn't know what you'd do. He had been ready for anything. For you to scream and shout and scratch and fight. For you to try and deny what you both already knew for whatever reason.

But you never did.

Instead, you just tilted your head to the side, like a confused dog.

Then you said:

"The war ended around...50 years ago? 60? I don't know for sure. The records were all destroyed, and the elders that fought in it are quickly dying out"

Lilia breath hitched.

All those scars. All their stories. Are from the aftermath? The aftermath of a finished war is still producing what lilia believes might very well be child soldiers.

And then you spoke again.

"When I was...I think twelve? I don't know. No one really knows their age. But I was definitely around twelve. The other manufacturers with more experience and a better idea if what they're doing got sent to the northern bases. They were needed there. They wouldn't tell me why"

...

...Twelve?

"Anyways, a couple months later -or were they weeks?- some time later, Caroline went missing"

Twelve?

"And I was really all they had to send"

Twelve.

"Now that I think about it...it was probably because they could replace me well enough if it didn't go as good as it did"

Fucking TWELVE?!

"As good as it did?!", lilias voice startled you out if your own head.

You looked at him. He looked back at you with an expression of exasperated rage.

You stopped talking.

"As good-as GOOD as it did!"

"Y/N. Y/N there is no good in this! This-" He grabbed your arm. Gesturing to the old, half healed scar that had started this whole mess "-is terrible! Dammit this is a crime against morality!"

...

...oh.

You looked at your arm. At the old shot gun would you had gotten after getting your arm stuck just outside if the entrance to the tunnel you and your temporary team had taken.

You could barely even remember why you had it out in the first place.

To throw a grenade you had put together on the spot? A stick of dynamite? You didn't know.

All you knew was that it hurt.

It still does sometimes.

You looked down at your own body.

They all still do sometimes.

....

Oh God...

You looked back at lilia, and the night resumed.

None of what you said will likely never be repeated outside if the walls of Ramshakle. Not all of it at least.

You didn't tell lilia about the scars on your back. You probably never will.

That was fine.

You told him what you had to do to survive, and he told you that you shouldn't have had to do that in the first place.

There were things that were never really explained. Like guns or grenades or that old, abandoned army tank that you played when you were a child.

("So it's a car...with a Canon on it?"

"Uhhhh. Sure. Yeah")

And other things...

Well. Turns out some scenarios are seen a bit different here.

You don't your age.

That's sad. Not bormal.

You don't know who your real parents are. The high infant mortality rate in the southeast base and the tunnels surrounding it that most mothers simply give away their children to avoid the pain of burying their babies.

That's a tragedy. A horrible, horrible tragedy.

Not normal.

Just like your life.

........

As soon as he got back to Diasomnia, lilia went to check on silver. Then sebek. Then malleus.

Silver and sebek were asleep. And he could see malleus taking a walk about the dorm from his bedroom window.

They were safe. Lilia felt his shoulders drop for the first time that night.

...and then he did something he never thought he would need do again.

Slowly, lilia walked over to his desk, lighting a tall, white candle and setting out an expensive piece of meat.

Wasn't the best offering, but it'll due for now.

He hoped it would at least.

Religion had long since died out of twisted wonderland as a whole, with only a few churches and temples remaining in certain parts in the shaftlands and a few of the older families in briar valley truly practicing in this modern age. 

Even so, later that night when his dorm and his children were all sound asleep, lilia knelt beside his bed and prayed to his old god for the first time in centuries.

He could only hope that they would be answered. 

[toomanythoughts2]

Dethklok Agere HCs: Toki Edition

🐰🐝🎸🎮🤡🐱🍭✈️🛼🎹🖍️🍼🍺💉🎁🤠🏎️🔫👯‍♂️🪽🌈🤮

I originally was going to do all of the members together in one post, but I realized after Toki that it was going to be obnoxiously too long for all five. So, I'm splitting them up into each member. Obviously, I had to start with my main man, Toki 🧸!

Everything is below the Keep Reading tab.

Toki

(My son, my pookie bear, my darling, my sunshine, my sweetheart, my Swiss cheese, my BABY!)

🧸 First, I think his age range is pretty narrow but the ages he falls into are drastically different headspace wise. Meaning, I think he can fall between a 2 to a 4, but how he acts as a 2 year old is a lot different than a 4 year old, so it's important to figure out what his headspace is before doing something.

🧸 Toki is a hitter!!! He canonically hits people in the show for attention and even hits Pickles in AOTD in the church. Having Toki show signs of realistic trauma-based regression is just so important to me, it makes me crazy! The boy is not well but he is working on it.

🧸 Speaking of which, Toki requires the most support regressing than any of his bandmates. He needs constant support from either the band (Pickles) or Charles (Listen, he never left in my eyes. THOSE ARE HIS BOYS, HE COULDN'T JUST LEAVE THEM!) Whether this means just babysitting when he's regressed and chilling or actively helping him complete physical or emotional tasks. He needs a lot of support in his regression.

🧸 Out of all the members, Toki's regression is the most recognized as age regression by the general, uneducated public. It's very obvious age regression. I say this because I think some of the other members regression is not recognized as regression at first glance, especially by outsiders. (Of course, within the band, they all know each other well enough to spot the signs.)

🧸 He wants to put everything in his mouth. The remotes all have screws in them now where the batteries are located and Pickles is constantly holding Toki's hands to keep them from grabbing stuff.

🧸 He utilizes supplies in his regression the most out of everyone in Dethklok. I honestly believe that Toki can go anywhere between baby bottles to an open cup (supervised), so his supplies are diverse and plentiful. I personally see him utilizing stuffies, specific clothes for regression, (canon) ear muffs, pacifiers, child friendly cutlery, child friendly arts and crafts, sensory supplies, and so many other odds and ends.

🧸 From what we see in AOTD with Pickles carrying a large duffle bag (alluding that it's for Toki), I do think that Toki uses diapers. HEAR ME OUT! I don't think it's all of the time, but I do think that if Toki regresses far enough, it would become a necessary part for him. (Homie is traumatized.) Pickles just knows what's up and is ready to care and defend his Norwegian baby brother.

🧸 He needs attention ALL OF THE TIME! Even if he doesn't necessarily want someone to be in his space, he still needs to know that they are available for him 100% of the time. (Playing by himself but won't let you leave the room without crying.)

🧸 Oh, he is the biggest crier in Dethklok (Skwisgaar is the second). He will cry if he hurts himself, he'll cry if he just finished his last piece of dinner he liked, he'll cry if he doesn't want someone to stop cuddling him. But he also cries over a lot of things he doesn't understand, like being triggered by sounds or phrases. The sound of a whip and an actual whip are not allowed on Mordhaus because of how scared Toki gets when he sees/hears one. (Aslaug, when I catch you, Aslaug.)

🧸 He will utilize his big blue eyes for treats. Do not be fooled, he's already gone to everyone in the band for the same treat and got one from them already. (Charles won't budge but he's gotten close.)

🧸 Loves to cuddle. Loves to be held. I mean, is this really a HC anymore, of course Toki loves to cuddle and be held. He's cuddling while playing, he's cuddling watching TV, he's cuddling while sleeping, he's cuddling while eating. He'll cuddle on the toilet if you let him. Nathan is the person Toki goes to the most for these cuddles because he's large, soft, and has a low bass rumble in his chest when he speaks that puts Toki to sleep instantly.

🧸 He can only play independently but wants to play with others. He just doesn't know how to do that yet. Pickles and Murderface have tried to join in on play time but it stresses Toki out too much. I HC this because Toki had no control over his environment as a child, so playing is a way for him to have that control. By having someone join in, it's inviting the inevitable that they might take over his environment. That alone makes him stressed because play time was the only time as a child that Toki had any control in, so it's going to be hard letting people in when he's regressed.

🧸 He is the bubble bath connoisseur. When he's big, he is spending time looking for new bubble baths, bath bombs, toys, all kinds of shit. He loves bath time, it's his favorite part of the day when he is small. It depends if Toki needs supervision/the level of supervision for bath time when he's small. He can go from needing help every step of the way to only needing help filling the tub and getting in and out. I do think he would love to have his hair played with and washed. To me, this is a Skwisgaar or Charles job. Pickles has tried but he's almost bald with dreads and has no idea how to wash hair anymore.

🧸 The lore he has with his stuffies is long, complex, and gory. He will NOT explain it though, it's too much of a hassle.

🧸 Speaking of, Toki does have very disturbing tendencies while regressed due to his trauma. I like to think he draws and colors a lot of his abuse and shows them to the band. I also think, while regressed, he falls into old fears about being punished, so if he does something that was "breaking the rules" when he was actually a child, he will completely spiral and hurt himself somehow. He also won't say anything if he is hurt because his injuries used to never be a big deal or were "deserved". Same thing with eating and drinking, he won't do them if he feels like he did something bad. I also think he "punishes" himself by stripping himself of his shirt and pants and laying somewhere cold (under a fan or on bathroom tiles), to mimic the feeling of the "Punishment Hole". The band is closely working with Dr. Twinkletits to keep tabs on all of this.

🧸 On a happier note, he loves to follow Skwisgaar around when he's regressed, and Skwisgaar doesn't mind too much. (He loves being Toki's favorite and gloats about it all the time to the other members.)

🧸 Stares. He loves to just look at people. It scares the band sometimes until they realize they can stare back and make Toki laugh.

🧸 He's a thumb sucker. I know it in my heart that he's sucking away on his grimy little thumb and Pickles is always yelling at him to get it out of his mouth. This only works half of the time because Toki just loves his thumb too much.

🧸 When he's too little to talk, he makes a lot of huffs and puffs to get his point across. Gets progressively less coherent the sleepier he gets.

🧸 He gets nightmares. Just like when Toki isn't small, he is plagued by nightmares. But, I do believe that if he goes to bed regressed, the daily activities ease him enough that he doesn't get them nearly as much or as bad as when he's not regressed.

🧸 He uses a nightlight. It's in the shape of a kitty head and casts a kitty shadow on the wall. His name is Elin.

🧸 Toki loves arts and crafts and usually has to have someone supervise him when he's in creating mode. (He will eat the uncooked macaroni and then get upset when there's none left to make his pictures.) He is no longer allowed unsupervised access to glue as he keeps trying to eat it. Scissors, he has no problem with.

🧸 Toki is known for some pretty explosive tantrums, which Pickles and Nathan have tried very hard to work Toki through so he doesn't end up hurting himself or others. He is known to hit, kick, bite, spit, and swear when he's upset. But a lot of it is superficial. Toki isn't aiming to hurt anyone or himself, he's just expressing his frustration in a physical manner that can harm people. He gets more upset after the tantrum when he realizes what he's done. The band can't be but too mad at him, he isn't in complete control. They've learned to help Toki work through his tantrums the best they can.

🧸 The band is not allowed to ignore Toki when he's regressed because that has been identified as a trigger for a tantrum. However, Toki has and can be put in 10-minute increment time outs to calm down from a fit or if the band needs to address someone else first. (Like, if Toki punched Skwisgaar in the nose, Toki knows he's not suppose to do that, so he gets put in time out while Skwisgaar gets his nose checked out.)

🧸 Murderface loves to teach Toki when he's regressed because he will sit and listen to him about everything. EVERYTHING! Even the most boring war battle facts, he will sit and listen. Pickles is a little worried about this because Toki is even more impressionable when he's regressed. He doesn't think Murderface would take advantage of Toki like this, but he isn't a fool. (Murderface would but only small things, like picking dinner plans.)

🧸 Murderface is also the only one that can play with Toki one-on-one the longest before it stresses Toki out. Murderface's improv during play time is funnier and more creative than the other members, but when it becomes too much improv, that's when it stresses him out and they have to stop. But before that, Toki is having the time of his life.

🧸 Toki refers to Pickles and Nathan as Mamma and Pappa. I believe that Toki had to refer to his parents in Norwegian as Mor/Far (Mother/Father) all of the time, but in English he just calls them Mom/Dad because it's easier to say. But Mamma and Pappa are informal terms and mean a lot more to Toki role-wise. They're like badges of honor. They earned those names by being the caregivers they are, before and after AOTD.

🧸 He wants all of the kisses! Forehead kisses, cheek kisses, head kisses, bed time kisses, good bye kisses, good morning kisses, hello kisses. He craves physical affection. And every time he gets a kiss, he stims happily. I also think he rubs that part of himself that got kissed because it "tingles" and he has to touch it.

🧸 After discussing whether Toki would use a crate or not, I think I like the idea of him having a permanent pillow fort in the corner of his room for when he wants some alone time the most. Or to decompress. Or if he's tired and wants to nap. Though, I am still down with the dog crate idea. Or the little kiddy tent! I love them all, honestly!

🧸 They have a playground installed on Mordhaus just for Toki. He loves the swing and will swing (or be pushed) for hours if you let him. He has gone through multiple swings in a short amount of time because of how much he swings. (This is projection. I have broken 4 swings due to swinging so much.)

🧸 Skwisgaar has inside jokes with Toki when he's small and only in Swedish. Toki giggles so hard when he gets a chance to whisper one of them to Skwisgaar that he almost cant get them out.

🧸 Toki has a bed time routine that he has to follow when he's small (with the help of his bandmates) because it helps him regulate his emotions and builds structure. The routine is simple: brush teeth, brush hair, wash face, go potty, get changed, pick out a bed time story, climb into bed. Nathan is the official bed time reader, but the band is usually with him when he's falling asleep. He needs his goodnight kisses otherwise he will be upset.

🧸 Toki loves having sleep overs in the other guys rooms. He loves Nathan's rooms the most because of the aquariums (low sensory, calming, general interest), then it's Murderface's because of the different devices in his room (low simulation and attention, general interest), then it's Skwisgaar's room because he has the window so he can see all the stars at night, then it's Pickles room. However, Pickles room is the coziest in Toki's opinion because Pickles is there, and he loves Pickles very much. He knows on one is going to get him in Pickles room.

🧸 Skwisgaar knows very little on how to cook, but the times he does cook, he utilizes Toki as a taste tester for his dishes. They have similar pallets, so Toki can accurately depict the dishes intended taste. Skwisgaar always sets him on the table and spoon feeds him whatever he is cooking (usually soup or stew) and asks for his opinion. Toki loves it and always asks for Skwisgaar to feed Deaddy Bear too.

🧸 Toki's age regression is public knowledge. He is unable to control when he regresses, so he has public appearances where he is regressed. This unfortunately meant that Toki had to address it to the press, despite Toki feeling uneasy about answering questions. They all know that the press love to ask intimate and personal questions, even if it makes him uncomfortable. The band and Charles were off to the side supporting him through out the whole press conference. After the initial interview, Charles would be the only one answering questions about Toki's regression, so that 1) Toki wouldn't have to do it and 2) Charles can't be bullied into giving out too much private information on the matter, he's a professional. This was greeted with mixed results at first but gradually turned positive as more information was readily understood by the public.

🧸 The Dethmoms have wavering opinions about Toki. Anja does not acknowledge it, or at least tries very hard not to acknowledge it. Toki does become scared around her when he's little and she knows that. Stella thinks most of it is made up and he's just looking for attention, but she does not outright ridicule Toki to his face. She'll play along for the sake of keeping him quiet. Servetta does not have an opinion either way, but she does like to dote on him from time to time (head pats, petnames) when she's able to get him to do something for her. Molly does not like it one bit and will not play along. She has gotten mad at Toki before and has "called him out" for it, but only to be met with 0 back up (Stella understands enough that Toki isn't her child, so it's not her place to call him out, only Anja's.) Rose is the only one in the group that absolutely adores Toki. She's read every book, every blog post, every piece of literature to try and make herself a safe space for Toki. Toki in return looks forward to seeing Rose and will ignore everyone in favor of her. Rose gives him all of the sugary sweet lovings that the boys can't quite give him, so they let him be coddled and coo-ed at from her. (Nathan isn't jealous of this at all.)

🧸 Toki has been known to hang out with Charles while he works. Sometimes he's as quiet as can be, completely oblivious to whatever Charles is doing. However, Toki has sat in Charles lap before just wanting to cuddle while Charles is on a phone call or web meetings. He has made multiple appearances during zoom meetings of just cuddling Charles or sleeping on his shoulder. The other members of the meeting have taken a regressed Toki in a meeting as a "Good Luck Charm" for whatever future endeavors they are about to talk/negotiate/revise about. They've even moved meetings forward/backwards with future partners when Charles has Toki in his lap because they have so much faith in his "Good Luck Charm" ability.

🧸 Charles has a board in his office just for drawings that the band has made while regressed. 95% of them are Toki's drawings though.

🧸 Abigail is still a big part of Toki's life, both regressed and not. I believe after the Metalocalypse, Abigail and Nathan did have a serious conversation about everything where Nathan apologizes for his behavior. Abigail accepts and the group + Abigail form a friendship. But a lot of it is between Toki and Abigail, where Abigail is able to take care or calm Toki down much easier and much faster than any one of them. Toki will wake up from nightmares demanding to call her to make sure she's ok, which she always answers. She understands Toki very well, and most of their time spent together is in quiet tranquility. He mainly just wants to cuddle with her and rest, sometimes babbling about stuff but most of the time is quiet. He finds comfort in her and she will lend him something that smells like her to calm him down if need be.

🧸 It's common to leave baby's outside to nap in Scandinavian countries like Norway and Sweden. When Toki wants to nap, he will ask to go outside and sleep on a blanket, which the band allows. However, when he wants to do it during the winter where there is snow, the band argues back with him, except Skwisgaar. He has to tell them that this is completely normal for Scandinavian children. He buys Toki the appropriate wear clothes and sleeping bag, and lets Toki take a nap outside in the snow. Skwisgaar will either join him or be near by to calm the rest of the bands nerves, especially Pickles.

🧸 Very very very few klokateers are allowed to care for Toki in the place of the band or Charles. Out of all of the klokateers, these people have to go through an extensive and grueling interviewing processes to get the position. Toki knows exactly who these klokateers are and understand that if Charles allows them to care for him, then they can be trusted. These klokateers also have the most amount of pressure on them. While their position won't kill them like other positions, if they betray the trust of Charles by hurting Toki, they are signing themselves up for a world of pain unlike they have ever known. Death would be too kind for those who hurt Toki when he is small.

🧸 Toki is also a biter. He likes to bite and nibble on people for attention. It doesn't hurt unless he uses his canines.

🐰🐝🎸🎮🤡🐱🍭✈️🛼🎹🖍️🍼🍺💉🎁🤠🏎️🔫👯‍♂️🪽🌈🤮

Ok, that's all for now! I hope you enjoyed these as much as I enjoyed putting them down. Obviously, my word isn't law so if you HC Toki differently than any of these, it's all good. In fact, I wanna read about them, lol! So yeah, thanks xxx