#I’ve been crying a lot this last week so it was something I just sort of noticed about myself 🫠

[snezus-christ-risen]

Thinking about someone who hates showing emotions or vulnerability of any kind getting frustrated because they can’t start crying without triggering a tingling sensation in their nose that, more often than not, develops into a sneeze or two.

[ba9go]

bakugou katsuki finds you annoying (he has a soft spot for you) pt. 2

sort-of enemies to lovers with bakugou!! bakugou being avoidant bc he’s bad at feelings. he’s a little shit in this one but he makes it up to the reader!! liiiiiight angst/comfort.

pls read part 1 before 🧡 part 3 (nsfw)

the more you interact with bakugou, the more you’re baffled by the insults he comes up with.

you bump into him in the corridor, and the two of you are completely alone so it’s impossible for you to pretend you haven’t seen him, so you wave awkwardly at him.

“hey, bakug—”

“fuck off, rabbitface.”

bakugou brushes past you as he walks by, leaving you gaping at him in complete horror. “my ears are not that long!”

“cry about it, maybe your nose will twitch too!” bakugou responds without looking back at you, and you find yourself holding your nose on the rest of your way back to your room. it does not twitch one bit.

the day of the midterm exams, you’re full of jitters, standing outside the classroom and flipping through your notes frantically for some last minute revision.

“nervous?” you look up to see bakugou standing in front of you, smirking down at you with his arms crossed.

“yeah,” you admit sheepishly. “i don’t wanna fuck this up.”

“don’t be stupid. you studied, didn’t you?” bakugou’s smirk drops and he raises an eyebrow at you. you nod, and he clicks his tongue at you. “only thing stopping you now is you, then.” bakugou pokes the side of your head twice, roughly but not hard enough to actually hurt. it catches you by surprise, and it happens so fast that by the time his hand drops back to his side, you’re not sure it even happened.

“better not fuck it up, buttercup.”

as bakugou walks away from you, you’re still feeling frazzled, just not for the test anymore.

by this point, you’ve given up on asking mina and the rest for advice. they’re all convinced of the same thing — that bakugou somehow has a soft spot for you. you don’t believe it.

some days, bakugou looks a little less murderously at you, and you think that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t completely hate your guts, but other days, he completely brushes past you like you’re invisible and you feel like a fool for ever hoping that maybe the two of you could be friends.

but then bakugou starts ignoring you more and more, and you start to wonder if he actually hates you.

you run into bakugou on the way to the gym, and you grab his sleeve before you can even stop to think twice. “bakugou, you good?”

“hah?!” bakugou recoils away from you and looks at you like he’s repulsed by your touch. “fuck do you want, extra?”

extra. you’ve noticed that bakugou’s started calling you that a lot more often recently. you’ve heard him say it before, but not to you. was that all you meant to him now? when did that happen? what changed?

“what do you want? did i piss you off or something? why are you being so—”

“i’ve always been like this,” bakugou hisses at you, and you don’t think you’ve seen bakugou this angry at you before. “and you’ve always pissed me the fuck off. so just fuck off already, would ya?”

bakugou stomps away like godzilla after a rampage, and you’re the tokyo that he’s completely ravaged.

soft spot, my ass.

for the next two weeks, you listen to bakugou. you stay out of his way, you don’t even try to meet his gaze when you walk into class or when you walk past him in the hallways. ignoring him didn’t feel natural to you, but every time you saw bakugou, you reminded yourself that you were just another extra. you’d get used to not talking to bakugou eventually.

the others picked up on this change as well. kaminari casually asked if bakugou had come up with any “interesting, new” names for you, to which you had responded, “haven’t spoken to him in a while, but he did call me an “extra” the last time.”

“extra?” kaminari repeated slowly, raising his brows. “he called you an extra? that’s low. especially since it’s you.” you shrug, and kaminari frowns. “have you talked to kirishima about it? i’m stupid but i don’t speak caveman like bakugou does. kiri’s our best bet at deciphering him.”

you decline kaminari’s suggestion, insisting that it was no big deal, but it seemed kaminari went ahead and told kirishima anyway, because “bro code”.

(1) new message from red riot:

red riot: hey, sorry about bakugou, he’s been a real asshole to you lately

you: hey kiri!!! pls don’t apologise

you: how do u even know lol? kaminari?

red riot: ding ding ding

you: 👎

red riot: sorry… bro code

red riot: i beat some sense into him dw

you: poor kami

red riot: oh no i meant bakugou

you: what

red riot: (👍ᐛ )👍

turns out, your conversation with kaminari had completely set off a chain reaction that you absolutely could not stop, with kirishima (bless his heart) confronting bakugou himself.

you: what

you: u mean u just went over and kicked his ass?

red riot: yup!

red riot: well i guess we took turns

you: ????

red riot: like i got two punches in and he got two punches in and we talked and then we called it a day

you: ???????????????

red riot: (👍ᐛ )👍

you don’t dare to ask kirishima for the details of what exactly happened during their brawl, and you don’t know how you’re ever going to face bakugou ever again. the thought of running into bakugou legitimately scares you, so you decide to hole yourself in your room for the rest of the evening, just to be safe.

well, you thought you were safe, until…

(1) new message from Unknown Number:

Unknown Number: It’s Bakugou.

Unknown Number: I need to talk to you.

Unknown Number: You in your room?

you: no (👍ᐛ )👍

Unknown Number: Yeah right

Unknown Number: I’m at the door.

you’re filled with equal parts dread and fear as you shuffle over to the door reluctantly. you peek through the peephole to see bakugou standing there with a plastic bag in his hand.

you open the door hesitantly.

“you look like shit,” bakugou says, and it sounds so familiar and so right, you almost burst out laughing despite the context of the situation. despite yourself, you can’t help the small smile that forms on your lips.

“here.” before you can say anything, bakugou’s grabbing your wrist and handing you the plastic bag. it smells like food so you think its takeout, but you look inside and see that it has a little plastic bento box and metal chopsticks.

“is this your way of apologising?” you grin cheekily, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of him, but bakugou stares back at you unflinchingly.

“yeah,” bakugou says. “is it working?”

‘it worked,’ bakugou thinks as he lets you fling your arms around his neck and pull him into a hug.

“it’s working,” you mumbled into his shoulder, and you feel two large hands grip around your waist.

extras:

(👍ᐛ )👍 is so kiri-coded i love it

(👍ᐛ )👍

kirishima was pissed after kaminari told him what happened between you and bakugou

he walked over to bakugou’s room all prepared with ice packs and shit

knocked twice, waited for bakugou to open the door, threw two punches

bakugou was confused asf but it pissed him off so punched kiri right back out of reflex

the fight stops then and there, kirishima hands bakugou the ice pack, and they both sit on his bed to talk

both are just holding ice packs to their cheeks

kirishima tells bakugou that it was unmanly of him to be mean to you when you did nothing but try to be nice to him

bakugou just listens quietly, he doesn’t really say much, doesn’t really know what to do to fix the situation

like he already knew that he fucked up before kirishima came to rock his shit

but kirishima is a true bro and he gives bakugou advice on how to make things up to you

(👍ᐛ )👍

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @valeriyaaak @v3n7s @deimosjay @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @antiwhores @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy @thesimpybitch @eempxth @hanta-seros-wifey @itztaki @thekidscallmebosss

[undying-love]

Paul's grief over time: A Compilation

“During the session [in 1981] Paul fell into a lugubrious mood. He said, ‘I’ve just realized that John is gone. John’s gone. He’s dead and he is not coming back.’ And he looked completely dismayed, like shocked at something that had just hit him. ‘Well, it’s been a few weeks now.’ He said, ‘I know, Eric, but I’ve just realized." (Eric Stewart)

“It’s still weird even to say, ‘before he died’. I still can’t come to terms with that. I still don’t believe it. It’s like, you know, those dreams you have, where he’s alive; then you wake up and… 'Oh’.” (Paul, 1986)

"Occasionally, it wells up. Y'know, and I'm at home on the weekend suddenly and I start thinking about him or talking to the kids about him and I can't handle it." (Paul, 1987)

"Is there a record you like to put on just to hear John’s voice?" I ask Paul the next day. Paul looks startled. He fumbles. “Oh, uh. There’s so much of it. I hear it on the car radio when I’m driving.” No, that’s not what I mean", I persist. "Isn’t there a time when you just wish you could talk to John, when you’d like to hear his voice again?" For some reason, he instead responds to the original question.“Oh sure,” he says and looks a little taken aback. ‘Beautiful Boy". (1990)

"Also not obvious is that McCartney [for the Liverpool Oratorio] has penned a gorgeous black-spiritual-like piece for mezzo-soprano that intones the last words spoken to John Lennon as he lay dying of gunshot wounds in the back of a New York police car -- "Do you know who you are?" McCartney gets a bit choked up at one point when he reveals, "Not a day goes by when I don't think of John.” (1991)

"Delicious boy, delicious broth of a boy. He was a lovely guy, you know. And it gets sadder and sadder to be saying ���was”. Nearer to when he died I couldn’t believe I was saying “was”, but now I do believe I’m saying “was”. I’ve resisted it. I’ve tried to pretend he didn’t get killed." (Paul, 1995)

"Paul talked about John a a lot, but the strange thing was that it was in the present tense, “John says this" or "John thinks that. Very weird." (Peter Cox, 2006)

“John Lennon was shot dead in 1980. That totally knocked dad for six. I haven’t really spoken to him a lot about it because it is such a touchy subject." (James McCartney, 2013)

"It's very difficult for me and I, occasionally, will have thoughts and sort of say: "I don't know why I don't just break down crying every day? […] You know, I don't know how I would have dealt with it because I don't think I've dealt with it very well. In a way… I wouldn't be surprised if a psychiatrist would sort of find out that I'm slightly in denial, because it's too much." (Paul, 2020)

"Like any bereavement, the only way out is to remember how good it was with John. Because I can't get over the senseless act. I can't think about it. I'm sure it's some form of denial. But denial is the only way that I can deal with it." (Paul, 2020)

"When I talked to Paul about John and when he missed John most, he couldn't answer me for a long time and his eyes teared up. And I asked him where he thinks about John and when John comes into his mind and he just … he lost it, he completely lost it." (Bob Spitz, 2021)

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

The following two are from the gossip website Datalounge, so they may or may not be true. Still interesting though:

"The one time I was ever actually in a room with Paul, zillion people between me and him (and no way I'm gonna bother him, all of us who travel in celeb circles have people we're fans of and all of us inexplicably try to hide it to seem "cooler"), he started talking loudly about himself and John, and how hard it was not to have him there. I remember him saying something along the lines of not a day passing that John's not still in it with him, but it's not like he can pick up a phone and say, "Hey, just needed to hear your voice today," and even when he got craggy responses, he still missed them. He misses it all, and it's bothering to him that he misses him more as time goes on -- it doesn't heal, he just learns new ways to bandage the wound."

“Since everyone is anonymous here, I guess I can give a bit of info I got from a female friend of mine who at one time worked as one of Paul’s assistants. [...] She does not know for certain if John and Paul were involved but she suspects it since to this day whenever John’s name is brought up he acts in her words ‘like a widow’ and he also addresses John in present tense. He would say things like, ‘John thinks that the music should be like this,’ and during his bitter divorce from Heather he was saying, ‘John says that this is getting nasty.’ Kind of creepy." (this one actually seems very intriguing because it sounds very similar to what Peter Cox said, about Paul often talking about John in the present tense, saying "John says.." or "John thinks...")

[katstarry]

no one noticed | call me

eddie munson x reader

part iii

masterlist ☆

part i part ii

summary: eddie finally asks you on a date!

warnings: fluff, reader tends to overthink a little, a bit of self-doubt, but overall this is happy!!! she/her for reader, not much of robin in this one :(

a/n: this is probably the last part and it’s kinda long!! i sort of winged this whole small series :D but i enjoyed writing it sm it’s the first time i’ve written multiple parts for a story, thank you for all the love!!! 💝 i think this is my favorite part.

feedback + reblogs are appreciated! ☆

a few weeks had gone by and your friendship with eddie had only gotten stronger. the project for history had gone great, and it’s only a matter of time until the grades are passed out.

though eddie and you have spent lots of time together after school at various locations, such as your house or his, diners, local shops, or visiting robin at family video—there’s one thing that neither of you have gotten the courage to ask for.

each others number.

many days spent seeing each other, the thought of continuing to keep conversations going after you both go your separate ways, has been something you’ve wanted to do since the start.

it’s a simple thing really, but for some reason you don’t find the perfect time to ask for his number, or bring it up. feeling as though that would be too awkward. he hasn’t brought it up either, which only fuels your reluctance.

which brings you to now.

it’s a friday and you’re both spending the evening at a local diner, waiting for your food to arrive, well, specifically eddie's.

"are you sure that you don't want anything else?" he looks at you as he drinks from his cup, he had ordered a burger along with some fries. while you had only gotten a vanilla milkshake with fries.

"yup, i ate some lunch at school earlier. remember?"

he nods his head, "right. just don't steal my food when it gets here." narrowing his eyes at you.

"pfft, what? i would never do that." you say, grabbing one of your fries and taking a bite.

eddie rolls his eyes and smiles, "uh huh, just like you didn't steal my chicken nugget during lunch, or yesterday at the movies and i got some m&m's , or the other time when you said you didn't want anything but then asked for my chi-"

"alriiight! okay! i have no idea what you're talking about. that wasn't me." hiding your smile by taking a sip from your milkshake, he leans onto the table crossing his arms in front of him. "sure it wasn't, she looked a lot like you though. weird."

he steals one of your fries.

"hey! now who's the thief?" smacking his hand away, but you were too late, he had already grabbed it and ate it, smiling innocently back at you.

he shrugs, "don't know what you're talking about."

"i hate you." you say shaking your head and laughing.

he laughs, "oh please, you love me, sweetheart."

you blush. because first of all yes, you do, and second of all because of the nickname he's gotten used to calling you.

"you wish." you roll your eyes, acting as if his words didn't cause your heart to race and cheeks to burn. you hope he doesn't notice. but of course, he does, though he doesn't bring it up.

"i'm wounded, you don't love me." he puts his face in his hands as if he's crying. that's when the waitress comes over with his food.

"okay, here's your burger and your fries, sir," she smiles and puts the food down in front of him, causing eddie to look up and rub his hands together at the sight of food, "enjoy your meal! you both make a lovely couple." she smiles as she looks at you both.

you both freeze and look at each other, you see eddie smile. oh no.

"thank you so much, she doesn't love me." he deadpans with a fake sad smile as he looks at her.

an awkward look appears on her face. "oh! i'm, uh, sorry about that." she looks over at you.

"that's- no! i never said that, he's just kidding. ha ha." you look at eddie who's trying not to laugh at the look on your face. you kick him under the table.

he yelps and the waitress leaves after awkwardly laughing.

"uh, ouch?!" he rubs his leg under the table.

"oh c'mon it wasn't that hard!" you laugh. your face feels warm once again, "what'd you have to say that for? the poor lady, she was just doing her job." you shake your head with a fake disappointed sigh.

"just having some fun, sweety pie."

"ugh, don't ever say that again."

"we gotta keep up the act now! right, sweetums?" he bats his eyelashes at you and takes a bite of his burger.

"stop!" you laugh.

"why, sweetcheeks? apple of my eye? buttercheeks?"

"buttercheeks?" you ask, still laughing.

"i don't know where that came from, kinda started pulling some outta my ass." he laughs, taking another bite.

"it's okay, honey, you're trying your best." deciding to play along, patting his free hand that lays atop the table.

though, unbeknownst to you, his brain kind of short circuited for a moment once he heard you. you called him honey and you don't even realize the effect you have on him. usually, he's the one calling you pet names, loving the way you react to them, it's sweet. though he only thinks it's because you're a naturally shy person, but he's questioned in his mind if there was another reason as to why.

and he hopes he's the reason why you get all flustered when he says them.

taking another bite to keep himself occupied, nearly finished with the burger, he smiles at you once he finishes.

"i really am, you cutie patootie." he wipes his hands on a napkin before, leaning over and booping you on the nose.

"seriously? cute patootie? out of all the options?" you finish your milkshake, putting the rest of your fries to the middle of the table in between eddie and you so you can share.

"it suits you! but all right then, uh.." he looks up in thought, eating one of your fries, "...snookums."

"i really do hate you." you take the final fry.

"hey, we're supposed to be keeping up an act here, boo boo bear." he points an accusatory finger at you, you stare at each other for a moment before you both end up bursting out laughing.

"we should head home, love bug." you say, getting out your wallet.

"uh uh uh! no. i'll pay." he stops you.

"eddie you paid last time. i'll pay."

he sighs, knowing he won't be able to stop you. he hasn't been able to stop you all the other times before.

you smile, knowing that you won.

now you're both in his van and he's driving you home.

it's become a routine for you both, he started picking you up for school and driving you home. if he kept this up you'll end up not remembering how to drive.

he turns up the radio, one of his metallica cassettes is playing. looking over at him, you smile at the sight. he's looking straight ahead, hands drumming on the steering wheel to the music, head moving to the beat. you believe he does it subconsciously, as if he doesn't realize he's doing it unless someone points it out.

you look away once he glances at you.

"staring it rude, sweetheart." he says sternly, though you can hear his smile.

"wasn't staring."

"sure you weren't."

"just was admiring the view."

"you flatter me, y/n." he twirls one of the strands of his hair playfully with his free hand, while the other is on the wheel with his elbow resting on the window that's down.

you shove him gently, "don't let it get to your head. it's big enough as it is."

he laughs, "who knew you'd be so mean, what happened to the shy girl from a few months ago?"

"i wasn't that shy."

he looks over at you with his eyebrows raised.

"okay maybe i was."

he laughs, "couldn't even keep eye contact with me."

"i was just nervous!"

"i make you nervous, sweetheart?"

"no."

"sure." he smiles.

the rest of the drive was comfortable, music playing in the background, you like that about being with eddie. it doesn't feel awkward having periods of silence, he makes you feel safe, welcome, you can just be you.

he lowers the volume of the radio once he stops in front of your house, putting the van on park.

"well, home sweet home." he says, turning to look at you.

"home sweet home." you repeat, unbuckling your seatbelt. "thanks for the ride, eds."

"of course. you know i don't mind." he smiles.

you smile at him and get out, waving back at him once your in your house as he waits for you to get in safely, and shut the door.

once you're safely inside, eddie glances down at where you were sat, and finds napkin with scribbles on it.

he grabs it and looks at it properly, about to throw it to the back to throw away later (he always forgets), but stops once he reads what's on it.

it's a telephone number, it's your number. and beside it is written 'call me!' with a smiley face and a messy heart.

you had called robin as soon as you got home, gushing once again about your time with eddie, while she talked to you about her encounters with vickie.

and now here you were a few hours later, anxiously laying on your bed and flipping through magazines, waiting for eddie's call. will he even call?

did he even see the napkin? oh no, what if he threw it away? or what if he doesn't care?

that's when a ring begins to sound.

you jump up from the bed, fixing your hair, but then realizing he won't even be able to see you.

you pick up the phone, "hello?"

"well hellooo, y/n. i can't believe this is our first time calling each other."

you immediatley begin to smile, "i know right! we're so stupid."

"i didn't know how to bring it up."

"neither did i."

you both laugh.

"we really are so stupid." he says.

you picture him by the phone, is he standing? or is he sitting? is he smiling as much as you are?

"so..."

"so... what'd you do today?" he asks, and you know now that he's definitely smiling, and you can picture it so easily. maybe he's even toying with the phone cord, maybe not.

"hm... well i went to school obviously," "obviously." he interrupts, sounding as if he's holding back laughter.

"okay. and then just hung out with this guy after school."

"aah.. a guy you say? should i be worried?"

IS HE FLIRTING? you swear your heart skips a beat. breathe!

you laugh, "oh no, no. nothing to worry about."

"you sure?"

"totally, he wouldn't even hurt a fly."

"sounds like a pussy." he laughs.

"definitely."

"heeey! you weren't supposed to agree." he pouts, though you can't see him.

"you're the one who said it!"

"well, i don't know the guy, so i can say it."

"eddie you literally are the guy."

"i am?"

"idiot."

your laughs quiet down and you hear quiet breaths over the receiver, something about it makes it feel so intimate, it makes you blush. it's like he's so close, but he's so far away. only a couple of minute's drive away, but still, too far for your liking.

"still awake over there?" you whisper.

you hear a loud exaggerated snore in return, causing you to pull the phone away for a moment.

"well you must be in very deep slumber, i guess i'll hang up.."

"no! i'm awake. sorry, must've fallen asleep a bit there. oops. my bad, i'm up. don't hang up."

"nearly ruptured my eardrum." you laugh.

"myyy bad." he snickers.

"i am getting a bit tired though," a yawn escapes you in the middle of your sentence.

you hear him sigh, "guess we gotta sleep then."

"guess so."

a moment of quiet.

"you doing anything tomorrow?" he asks.

"um, no i don't think so. you?"

"nope."

"cool." you smile, knowing he'll ask to hang out.

"can i ask you something?" he sounds nervous.

"of course."

"we should hang out tomorrow."

"...okay, i'm down. was that the question?" you laugh softly, opting to lay down on your bed again.

"sorry- no that's not the question," you hear him move around, "uh, i was thinking."

"oh no." "shut up," he laughs, "i was uh, wondering, if you- do you want to go on a date with me?"

quiet.

WHAT. oh. oh this is real.

"uh it's okay if not, can just forget i ever said that-" "i'd love to."

he swears he stops breathing for a moment, "yeah?" he smiles once he hears your answer.

"yeah." you giggle.

"cool.. nice. i'll pick you up, uh is like 3pm cool?" "yeah, that's cool."

"awesome. well... i'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart." he whispers.

"see you tomorrow eds. goodnight."

"don't let the bed bugs bite." he says, did he really just say that? he rubs his face, but he feels calmer once he hears it made you laugh.

"alright, bye eddie."

he can't wait for tomorrow.

excitedly going to sleep, the next day comes quick.

calling robin and immediately telling her you have a date with eddie.

you wake up, have some breakfast and tell your mom, take a shower, and spend time looking for an outfit.

he didn’t tell you what the plans were, so you decide on something a bit casual but also a bit dressy. you put on a nice babydoll shirt and some jeans along with your docs.

sitting at your desk, where you have a small mirror and your make-up products, you get started on getting ready. you take your time getting your hair to look nice and not going too over the top with the make-up just some simple concealer, mascara, and lip gloss.

by the time you finish it’s about 2:30pm. okay, 30 minutes left. cool. now it’s really sinking in that you’re about to go on a date.

you get up and put on some jewelry, some earrings and a necklace, and just a few bracelets.

okay, now you’re ready.

wait! some perfume too. can’t forget that.

looking at the mirror you fix a few things—and you hear a knock at the door.

your mom went out to do some groceries—so you rush to the door and take a breath, not wanting to seem too eager. but you are.

you open the door and see eddie, he looks good. really good, which you’ve always thought but you can see he put effort in for this. his hair seems softer somehow? he’s wearing a black button down that fits loosely and some jeans, he’s still wearing his rings, you take notice that one his arms is hidden behind his back.

“you look great.” you both say at the same time.

“uh thanks.” you feel your face heat. “you look nice.”

“thank you, swetheart.” he pulls his arm from behind his back and he gives you flowers. you almost sigh dreamily, almost. you take it, unable to stop the smile that comes to your face.

“you remembered my favorite flowers?” you say as you look down at them.

“i remember everything you tell me, beautiful.”

his pet names aren’t new, but knowing this is a date makes hearing them a lot more difficult to not love the way it sounds.

“thank you, eds. i’ll just go put them in some water and i’ll be right out.” he nods and waits for you.

you’re out really quickly, excited.

he opens the door for you as he always does, but this time he even buckled the seatbelt for you, before going to the drivers seat. gentleman.

“so, where are you taking us today eddie?” you look over at him seeing him smile and starting the van.

“guess you’ll have to wait to find out.”

he hums along to the music that’s playing, opting to turn on the radio and put on one of his favorite stations. you hum along to the songs you do know, the ones you’ve listened together with him and some you’re just now hearing.

the trees on the side of the road pass you by, shades of green and brown since it’s almost fall, but still warm enough to be outside.

“i think i know where we’re headed.” you say, your gaze still outside the window.

“sh! sh! i still want it to be a surprise. even if you know where we’re going.” he chuckles.

you smile lazily over at him, your head resting on the headrest. “alright.”

the drive to the location is peaceful, as it always is. it’s filled with silly banter, teasing, and causal conversation.

once he parks the van, he rushes out and opens your door before you even get the chance to reach for the handle.

you hop out, “thank you.” you pat his chest.

“of course, your majesty.” he puts out his hand and your grab it.

he leads you to the back of the van and he opens it with his free hand, grabbing a blanket and a basket.

“a picnic?”

“a picnic.” he blushes and looks away, feeling a bit flustered by the way you look at him in adoration.

he leads you a bit further into the trees until you reach a good place; with a beautiful view of lovers lake.

letting go of your hand with a soft squeeze, he opens up the blanket and places it on the ground, putting the basket on it and sitting down. he look up at you and reaches for your hand.

“you gonna join me? or are you just gonna stand there and look pretty? i wouldn’t mind either one.”

you sit down across from him. “oh shut up.” you mumble.

he nudges your foot with his own, “don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart. let’s dig in.”

“alright, let’s see what you brought.”

opening up the basket he pulls out sandwiches, drinks, a container with cupcakes, and some fruit.

he looks up at you once he finished laying everything out. “i know it’s not much.. but i hope you enjoy it. i know you’ve mentioned before how badly you wanted to go on a picnic before.” he looks back down and counties setting everything.

you grab his hand and squeeze it. “it’s perfect, eddie. thank you. anything we would’ve done today i would enjoy regardless, you make things fun ed’s.”

letting go of his hand, he sits up and smiles.

“likewise, cutie patootie.”

“ooookay. well then, this has been fun—” you move to stand.

“no! alright, alright. i’ll behave.” he laughs, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“thanks, buttercheeks.” this causes you both laugh.

he hands you a sandwich, you take it and eat. the time is spent eating the snacks he had brought, goofing around, and shy glances when the other thought they weren’t looking.

the food was eaten and now you were snacking on some grapes, now sitting side by side, looking out at the lake, the sunset making the trees surrounding it to have more color and the water to glimmer.

“it’s so beautiful.” you say, looking at the scenery.

“yeah. it is.” he says softly, but he’s looking at you. he’s leaning on his elbows, his legs stretched out and crossed.

looking over at him, you lock eyes. only this time neither of you look away. you move to mirror his position, now at eye level.

“hey.” he says in a low voice.

“hey.” you say.

you eat another grape.

“can i have one?” he glances down at the fruit in the container.

“if you can catch it.” you smirk, sitting up as he remains how he is. he furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but understands once he sees you raises your arm, about to throw the grape.

he opens his mouth in attempt to catch it, but it hits his eye, causing you to burst out laughing.

“laughing at my pain, i see how it is.” he picks up the grape that fell onto the blanket and throws it back at you, which hits your shoulder.

“you missed.”

“you hit my eye!”

“it was close!”

“that was not close.”

you throw another one, catching him off guard. it hits his nose.

“now that was close.” you say, eating one yourself.

he shakes his head and sits up, reaching for the container. you pull it away playfully.

“oh? is that what we’re doing now?” he says.

you shrug.

he moves to grab it again, you pull it away.

neither of you move, until you stand and run with the container. he gets up and tries to reach you, but unfortunately you trip on a tree root and fall onto the grass, eddie falls as well by trying to reach for you.

he falls atop you, the container of fruit now forgotten.

“y’know if you wanted to be on top of me, i think that could’ve been after a couple more dates, eddie.” you joke.

eddie leans over you, not wanting to put his full weight on you. “ha ha.” he rolls his eyes.

“so what i’m hearing is.. you’ll go on more dates with me?” he brushes a loose strand of hair that fell in front of your face.

“mmm… maybe.” you smile.

“cool.”

“cool.”

he glances down at your lips, looking back to find you doing the same. “can i kiss you, sweetheart?” he whispers.

you nod, and that’s all he needs before leaning down to connect your lips. he feels your soft lips and he can’t help but sigh against the kiss. this is real. he’s kissing you. moving your hands to wrap around his neck, you feel his lips love against yours, tasting the cupcakes from earlier and a hint of mint. smiling against his lips, he pulls back for breath.

smiling down at you, he looks at you, a gleeful look on your face.

he moves to move off you, but you pull him back down for one last kiss.

he laughs against your kiss, helping you up.

“can’t get enough of me already?”

you shove his shoulder gently, “what, don’t want me to kiss you then?”

“now, now let’s not get crazy. i didn’t say that.” he pulls you closer, both of you now standing. he leans down and pecks your lips, pulling away and humming contently.

“nice?” you say.

“more than nice. amazing. awesome. beautiful. spectacular. though i think i know what would make it even better.”

“yeah? and what’s that?” you play with the ends of his hair.

“if you would be my girlfriend.” he says, blushing.

you hide your smile by hiding your face in his neck.

“i’d love to be your girlfriend, eddie.” you kiss his cheek.

he embraces you. “thank you.”

“for what?” you laugh, feeling him shrug.

“being you.” he kissed the top of your head, “…i’m your boyfriend now.” he smiles, pulling away and holding your hand.

and that next monday, in history class, where it all first started, he looks at his grade, an A written at the top.

he looks over at you, leaning over to give his girlfriend a dramatic sloppy kiss on the cheek.

[moonstruckme]

hi mae !!! i’ve been resding ur stuff for forever & if this request doesnt strike ur fancy i just wanted to at least say that!!! but i would love love love anything you have to say about steve harrington comforting his s/o (maybe shy!reader?? but no pressure on that) after a very tough emotional few weeks? like yknow those weeks that just knock you down & then stomp on you a little & have you saying “it’ll get better if i can just get through the week” but then the next week comes and it’s just as 🕳️🤸 as the last ? idk if this makes sense but ik u wanted more requests w our other boyfriends !!

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!

Steve Harrington x shy!reader ♡ 791 words

You’ve been trying not to cry for about a month now, and this stupid movie is going to do you in. Steve’s got his arm splayed across the top of the couch, his features lit in the colors of the TV screen and revealing only a vague sympathy for the characters in the movie as opposed to the steady crescendo of emotion that’s building behind your eyes. 

You turn from him so he won’t see your heating complexion and do your best to hold it in. You hold it until you can feel your heart beating in your sinuses. Steve’s fingers start toying with your hair, and it feels so ridiculously casual and tender that it only makes matters worse. 

You must make some sort of sound, because then he’s shifting beside you. His eyes burn into the side of your head. 

“Hey.” His voice is quiet, unsure. “You okay?” 

You breathe in through your nose, swallowing hard. “Yeah.” 

“Are you crying?” 

“No,” you say. But you are now, properly, and your denial is completely undermined by the wobble in its delivery. 

“You are,” Steve accuses, letting his hand drop onto your shoulder just as it gives its first great hitch. He tenses. “Hey, it’s okay. We can change the channel.” 

You let loose a horrid laugh, wet and pitchy. “No,” you tell him, finally breaking and wiping underneath your eyes. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t want to upset you.” He grabs the remote. His tone has gone serious and a bit panicky. “We’ll find something lighter to watch.” 

“It’s not the movie.” You turn towards him and he pauses, frozen like a rabbit in the forest. “It’s just…it’s a lot of things, you know?” 

Everything about Steve melts. His shoulder sag, the hand with the remote dropping into his lap, his lips part, he slouches towards you a bit, his eyebrows pull up and to the middle. “Yeah,” he says, soft and smooth as butter. “Yeah, I get that.” 

You try to smile, making fun of your own ill-timed meltdown, but another sob breaks free from you again. Steve slumps further. If you keep going like this, you’ll shatter into a million pieces and he’ll liquefy into a stain on the couch and that’s all Robin will find of either of you when she inevitably comes looking. 

“It’s okay.” Steve’s hand makes its way from his lap into yours, taking your hand and squeezing your fingers lightly. “You’re okay, you’re good.” 

And you know you are, but it feels nice to hear him say it. Your shoulders shake, and you tilt your head downwards, salty tears dripping off your nose. 

“Sorry,” you croak out, but he only brings his other hand to your face, angling you up where he can see you. 

“I don’t mind,” he promises. When his thumb sweeps an arc from the side of your nose nearly to your ear, you shudder. 

Steve’s brows twitch together, but he doesn’t alter his grip. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” 

“No, what is it?” 

“It’s just…” Just that you short-circuit anytime he touches you, and right now your body doesn’t know where to put the excess emotion. You think if he pays you any more attention you’ll have a heart attack. Cause of death: Steve Harrington’s tender ministrations. “Sorry, nothing.” 

His forehead creases as his thumb brushes once more, feather light, under your eye, and then his expression clears. Because though intuitive Steve is not, he’s perceptive enough to catch your unintentional glance to where his hand rests upon your cheek. 

“Oh, sorry.” He stills, eyes flickering back to yours. “Hey, if you want me to stop, I’ll stop. Just say the word.” 

And you have to think, because it is torment, and it might actually kill you. But at least this way you’ll die happy. 

“That’s okay,” you murmur. “It’s nice.” 

A little smile curves Steve’s lips before he remembers you’re sad and tries to squash it. You feel something similar tugging at your mouth anyway. 

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

You sniffle. “I don’t think so. I’m just kind of tired of it, you know?” He looks like he does. “Maybe we could just keep watching the movie?” 

“Yeah, sure honey.” The endearment slips out as if it’s something he says every day, and Steve’s demeanor doesn’t reflect anything different. For your part, you feel a buzzing in your chest so intense you wonder if you’ll disintegrate into tiny pieces. He scoots closer to you on the couch, settling an arm around your shoulders and leaning you into his side. “Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” he asks quietly, like it’s a secret. 

You rest your head on his shoulder and say nothing. 

[corruptedcaps]

Fake Week

“What kind of sicko are you Kane? I will not wear this… this butt plug. Its bad enough I have to pretend to be your girlfriend for a month so you’ll stop bullying Kevin but I’m not going indulge you in this sick game and wear some lewd sex toy of yours. I don’t care if this is what all your exes did! You’ll knock it down to just a week if I do? Alright fine but I’m cleaning it first. Maybe cleaning it more than once.”

“Are you happy now Kane? No you don’t get to check it! No wonder you’re single, you’re such a creep! Oh sure you wanted to see it was fitting fine and not hurting me? Yeah right how stupid do you think I am? And besides it fits perfectly, like really perfect actually. I uh got to go.”

“Yeah so what if I’m putting on makeup? I figured if I’m going to sell being your girlfriend I should probably start looking like those vapid bitches you are used to dating. Plus this is so easy, don’t know why I didn’t try it before. It’s just an act, you’re still a creep and once today is done I’ll be one day closer to not having to pretend to be your girlfriend!”

“It’s called yoga Kane. All you exes are flexible, athletic bitches so I thought I might as well act like I care about this stuff. I have to say though I’ve seen such a crazy improvement in just a few hours. It’s like magic! I can stretch and twist like never before and I’ve seen improvements in other areas too. Areas I see you’re checking out you cheeky bastard. I guess it is a pretty amazing ass now so I’ll allow it but don’t get any ideas, I’m just your fake girlfriend for 5 more days.”

“I never noticed how long my hair had gotten lately, it was getting in my face all the time during yoga so I decided to put it into a high ponytail, you know like one of your exes, and it’s so freeing. I used to think it was so bitchy looking but now honestly I think it’s sexy like this don’t you think? Of course you agree, I can see that bulge in your pants ‘babe’. Hmmm it’s kind of hawt seeing someone other that Kevin be turned on by me. Even with him it’s so few and far between lately. Maybe in four days when I’m back to being his girlfriend he’ll like this new hairstyle.”

“Ugh why are my so called friends so annoying today? They were complaining that I was saying mean things about Margo. All I said was if she wanted to ever get a guy she should maybe lay off the ice cream once and awhile. It’s not my fault the fatty started to cry. She should thank me for being honest with her. I should be more honest with the lot of them and kick them to the curb but they’re the only friends I’ve got. You’ve heard Amber and Mercedes want to be friends with me? The two biggest bully’s in school, but they are pretty cool and fashionable unlike these other dweebs. Maybe I’ll give them a text, thanks for the encouragement…. babe.”

“You were right about Amber and Mercedes. We texted all day yesterday and met up at the mall and went shopping. They convinced me to throw out all my lame clothes and buy a totally new look. It’s mostly pink and tight and sexy as hell. They also convinced me about something else. About you. I’ve been such a brat to you these past few days and you’ve been nothing but a gentleman to me. It’s time you got some sort of reward for your troubles. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t going to be a reward for me too. Just stand there looking handsome as hell and I’ll do the rest.”

“Hey baby, last night was mmmm really hawt but don’t tell anyone ok? I don’t want Kevin to know that I cheated on him last night… or this morning… or in your car later today. I can’t help it if you can’t keep your hands off me. I mean who can blame you? Plus you are MY boyfriend for two more days. Of course I told Amber and Mercedes though, they’re my besties, I had to tell them. Plus they were so impressed by what a bitchy thing my cheating was that they made me their new leader. Wasn’t your ex their old leader? Well I’m going to being even badder and bitchier than she was. Mmm that’s making me so horny. Fuck it let’s go to your car now.”

“Last day of our ‘relationship’. It’s only right that we get all the fucking in that we can. Glad to see your stamina is up to the task. Kevin wouldn’t last a fraction that you are capable of. What a fucking loser, can’t believe I have to go back to him tomorrow. Why am I doing this again? To stop you bullying him? He deserves to be bullied and you’re soooo hawt doing it. I never admitted since putting in the butt plug I’ve been touching myself at night thinking about you wailing on him. You’re so much more of a man than he ever will be. You know what? Fuck him. I deserve a strong, mean, and hot as hell boyfriend and you deserve a bitchy queen bee of a girlfriend. Kevin deserves to be the victim. Forgot our deal, I’m yours for good now and Kevin is all yours.”

“Oh the jacket? It belongs to my boyfriend, Kane. You know, your bully? Me date you? As if loser, I’ve always been Kane’s girl and always will. It’s like I was made for him. You’re just some simping creep who’s wanted in my panties for years. Everyone knows it, because my beta besties Amber and Mercedes are telling them right now. Those two can spread news like wildfires. You’ll be a pariah by the end of the day. Kane will be cheered on for bullying you. Mmmm speaking of which here he comes. Don’t forget to cry, it makes me so wet when you do.”

[here4tripitaka]

JTTW chapter 55: Tripitaka and the sexy scorpion spirit

The title really says it all:

So let’s recap. Tripitaka has been abducted by a demon who wants to have sex with him. He’s on his own this time - unlike last week, when all his mates were around to help him deal with the queen, who also wanted to have sex with him.

So Tripitaka is in the demon's cave, and the disciples are hanging around outside.

Sandy seems a bit over the whole rescue dynamic. He figures that Tripitaka can take care of himself, and that sex kidnapping is not that much of an emergency:

On the other hand, Wukong isn’t confident Tripitaka will pull through, and Bajie thinks it’s hopeless. The whole mission hinges on whether Tripitaka cracks and sleeps with her. Cos if he does, they're packing up and going home:

Well, Sandy was right. Tripitaka ACES it. The scorpion spirit is coming on strong, but Tripitaka just isn’t interested:

Note his forthright, stubborn attitude and conspicuous lack of crying. Contrast last week where he was turning red, looking away, physically shaking and crying:

WHAT IS THIS CHANGE OF PERSONALITY?

Either it's character growth (which has somehow occurred in the time it took for the scorpion spirit to teleport Tripitaka to her lair) or my theory (possibly based on a bit of wishful thinking) is that it’s influenced by whether Wukong is around or not.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love Tripitaka with Wukong. I love their potentially codependent relationship and the male-damsel-in-distress dynamic. Tripitaka is the most hopeless one of the group AND their undisputed leader. It’s amazing. I’ve never seen a male character lead a male group by crying and constantly requiring rescuing. I’m here for it.

But. Interestingly. When Wukong isn’t around, I feel like Tripitaka goes, “stuff it, I might as well save it,” and he calms down and just deals with stuff matter-of-factly.

I will admit he still cries ONCE:

Okay, twice:

Okay. So maybe I'm wrong. But on the whole, there is a lot less “clutching my handkerchief crying” sort of energy.

Anyway. When Tripitaka knocks back the scorpion spirit, the disciples decide he’s worth rescuing:

So basically, they deliberately abandoned him and left him alone with a demon overnight to shit test him.

They try to bust him out, but they don’t fare too well against the scorpion spirit’s sting. What are they to do? Don’t even worry: Guan Yin has got their back.

I love Guan Yin. You know where you stand with Guan Yin. There’s no praying and sitting around anxiously, wondering if she’ll come through. She’s already on it. Having trouble with a scorpion spirit you can’t conquer? Don’t worry:

And that guy is Orion.

Who turns out to be… a giant… rooster?

My reaction was, “Huh?!”

First I kind of assumed Wu Cheng’en was just having fun making up magic powers for random animals. But no! 

From my very scientific googling, it seems like maybe chicken > scorpion is actually a thing. TIL.

As a tangent, roosters got me thinking about alarm clocks, and how people used to wake up before alarm clocks were a thing. That took me down a rabbit hole, and now I’m discovering that candle clocks were a thing in ancient (ancient-ish?) China. Because apparently roosters are unreliable rogues and may crow at sunrise, but may also crow at 3am just cos they feel like it.

Behold:

So that’s that. But let’s circle back to something. I couldn’t help but notice that, in this chapter, Tripitaka calls the scorpion spirit a “powdered cadaver”:

Why so harsh? It isn’t cos of her looks. The narrator is pretty clear that she’s attractive. And it seemed uncannily like last week, where Bajie called the Queen of Women State a “powdered skeleton”:

It seemed a bit rich coming from him, when he clearly found her attractive:

I was starting to wonder if it was some kind of ancient Chinese insult for beautiful women when I found this journal article. It seems like, basically, the skeleton reference came from (separate but overlapping) Taoist and Buddhist practices of remembering that hotness is merely a superficial, meaningless property of the transient material world. Or something like that.

So, good on you Bajie and Tripitaka for sticking to your Buddhism. But… maybe just don’t say it OUT LOUD to people’s faces next time. Sure, stick to your asexuality, but no need to get personal about it!

I wonder if the queen and the scorpion spirit got the reference or if they were just like, “What the heck? I’m not that skeletal or powdery! YOU’RE skeletal and powdery!” We’ll never know.

And now, in no particular order, I wanna give a shoutout to some of my favourite miscellaneous moments from the chapter.

I love how the characters put so much emphasis on good manners, even when rushing around magically bashing people up. Wukung rocks up at Star God Orion’s place unannounced and asks him to drop everything and help him with something that is really not Orion’s problem - yet Orion refrains from telling him to get stuffed. Instead, he just worries that Wukong will think he’s rude if he doesn’t invite him in for tea:

Also, the wild swings between dramatic whining and understated stoicism. Bajie gets stung painfully on the snout, but doesn’t want to make a big deal of it to Orion:

Indeed. I, too, like to communicate my severe injuries only in a roundabout way, in the course of apologising for not being able to uphold proper etiquette.

Loved this sweet poem about Wukong as a majestic bee:

And learned that you’re not a babe unless you have spring onion fingers:

Some things went over my head, though. What do you mean, puns about meat buns and water pudding? I assure you, Tripitaka is not the only one who didn’t get it:

Even after reading Yu’s footnote about it:

As for my least favourite moments, Bajie is still being a chauvinistic so-and-so, calling women sexist words with disturbing enthusiasm. And Orion loses points for agreeing with Bajie wholeheartedly, instead of, you know, talking to him about his choice of language. But enough of that. Tripitaka has transcended the temptations of powdery skeletons, and it’s on with the journey.

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

—

Credits: The images above are either AI, or random pictures from the web that I’ve captioned for this, or a Frankenstein of both. They are not original. The AI is a mix of VEED.IO and Stable Diffusion. As for the images, they should turn up with reverse googling, but ask if you’re curious and I’ll dig up sources. Disability means I can’t draw at the moment, but honestly this turned out to be pretty fun anyway. Thank you dear internet for this bounty of meme-able images.

[peaches2217]

Having been raised in a cult that started off as a legitimate church and now seeking faith on my own terms, I’ve recently (as in, like, three days ago) developed a hyperfixation for researching various denominations of Christianity. It’s incredible, how little I knew about what denominations actually believe what.

TW: Reflections on religious extremism and experiences (nothing traumatic, I’m keeping this lighthearted, but I know it can be touchy!)

When my cult was still a church, it was an Assemblies of God church, and I’m fairly certain they still hold to a lot of that doctrine, just with even more heaping helpings of fire and brimstone and doomsday. We were taught to jokingly view Southern Baptists (or just “Baptists,” because they refused to acknowledge American Baptists and I didn’t even realize American Baptism was a THING until recently) as our rivals: they were our polar opposite in practice but equals in theology, and all other denominations just couldn’t get it right or were too scared to break free from Catholicism. We were told Catholics and those who worshiped and believed like them weren’t true Christians and destined for Hell. There was no interdenominational unity and collaboration, nor was there any encouragement to look at other denominations’ doctrine. Ours was right, the Baptists were close enough, and nothing else held any sort of merit.

(I’m pretty sure now they’ve even cut out the Baptist sympathetics, and while it’s become wholly self-contained, they’re still accepted as an AoG church — albeit a more extreme example of the denomination — but I can’t say any of that with certainty. I’d ask my dad but, well, he’s still wholly devoted to the cult, I don’t trust him to be objective in his view. 😅)

I briefly attended an Episcopal church before I moved last year, mostly because it was the polar oppose of what I was raised in and there was something very comforting about that (plus they’re openly supportive of things like LGBTQ+ rights), but ultimately my dad and FB friends kinda shamed me out of attending because “There’s no blessing in structure, sis!”. My hope was to start going to the Episcopal church here where I currently live, but when I showed up last week, there were exactly two people and they gave me rather dirty looks, so I quickly high-tailed it back to my car.

I ended up at a Methodist church because I was running behind and theirs was the only non-Baptist service that hadn’t started yet, and… I dunno. They had some trappings of my birth cult, sang some of the same songs, but there was also a structure to things like I’d seen in the Episcopal church. No hour-long praise and worship where you make a show of screaming and crying harder than anyone else, followed by an hour-long sermon that leads into another two-hour stretch of loud music and light shows and shouldaboughtahyundai steadIboughtakias until everyone was either unconscious or in a state of religious ecstasy; there was an order to things, with opportunities to take time in private prayer at the alter or at your seat, and the sermon was heartfelt and impactful but never once delved into the pastor screaming frantically into the mic. I followed their website to the official doctrine of the United Methodist denomination, and I was shocked to find that I agreed with most of it.

And that shocked me because, due to their notoriously liberal stances and heavy Catholic influence, my dad and those around me always told me that the Episcopal church isn’t really respectable. Most of them, however, consider Methodism a perfectly legitimate denomination that gets enough right to be deemed a proper church… and their doctrine isn’t much more conservative than Episcopalian doctrine. They have no formal stance on queer issues (which I’ll take over “Y’all are going to Hell” any day) but they’re vocal proponents of social justice and sexual education, both things I was taught growing up are evil.

And that’s the long-winded explanation of how I got to where I am now: digging deep into what each denomination actually believes, because I knew my viewpoint was limited by experience and further restrained by indoctrination and trauma, but holy fuck, I didn’t realize just how crazy my cult’s beliefs were until I started comparing all the doctrine. Of course doctrine isn’t everything, I know that, but the more I read, the more and more I realize that the faith I was raised in wasn’t all that Christlike after all.

A side note: my boss let me take half a day off on Sunday to go back to that church. The pastor’s husband came up and greeted me, told me his wife had mentioned meeting me, asked me a couple questions, standard New Person in Church-type stuff. I got about two questions in before I was shaking visibly and so scared I went briefly nonverbal, because for how kindly I’ve been treated and how strong my faith is, I’ve still got hella religious trauma. I alluded to being raised in church and had my trans and enby pride bracelets on, along with my bigender symbol necklace, so I’m pretty sure he could infer exactly why I was so scared.

He clasped my hand and said, in a quiet voice with a little smile, “You’re safe here. This is a safe place. We’re so glad you’re here.” I couldn’t say anything except thank you, but I hope it was enough to express just how deeply those words impacted me.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

I just saw a Zero to Hero buck edit on TikTok and i can’t help but think of Eddie’s first impression in Things We’re All Too Young To Know so I am craving more from that Universe lol ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

HELL YEAH!!! Love that you remembered that. It was important to me haha.

1k for TWATYTK!:

---

Eddie spends a minute sort of fuming before walking back into to the empty nursery, where Buck is still stewing over his laptop, comparing design ideas to their actual space. 

“How’d it go?” He asks when Eddie joins him. 

Eddie could get into it. He maybe should. This could very well impact Buck when Helena does come to meet her granddaughter. But his mother just lashed at an old wound. So Eddie reverts to an old defense mechanism. He avoids it. 

“She doesn’t need more than one grandparent, right?” Eddie jokes wryly instead. “Bobby is more than enough, I think.”

“In my experience he makes up for several absentees, yeah,” Buck says. “So, it went super well?”

“Oh, just great,” Eddie sighs. 

“Want to talk about it?” Buck asks.

And again… Eddie really should. 

“It’s not even worth talking about,” Eddie says. “I am far more interested in your nursery progress.”

Buck grins and turns the laptop screen towards him. 

“I think I’ve got a plan.”

🗲🗲🗲

Buck settles on green. 

Soft, easy greens. Nothing too vibrant. Like a forest on a summer day. Something that makes him think of the few things he does miss about Pennsylvania. 

It’s not just personal preference guiding his decisions, either. There are a lot of good reasons to surround his baby daughter with green. It’s pretty neutral. It doesn’t feel like shoving any sort of gendered expectation at her. And! It’s science-backed. Buck did some research into the human brain and color perception, and apparently green is the most relaxing color. It’s her bedroom. She should be relaxed! 

He gathers ideas of little leaf and blossom patterns he could stencil onto the walls and gets a palette together. 

“I think I could do interior design,” he tells Eddie when he finishes showing him. 

“This took you over a week to settle on,” Eddie reminds him. “I think actual designers have deadlines and clients to impress.”

“Okay, buzzkill,” Buck frowns. “Do you like the green?”

Eddie smirks. “I do like the green. What do we need to do?”

“Shopping trip on our next day off?” Buck asks. “We can get everything we need and slowly chip away at it?”

Eddie nods. “Sounds good to me.”

Buck grins. If their biggest issue between now and the baby being born was nursery colors, and he just solved it, he’s feeling pretty darn good.

☆☆☆

It’s one of their last calls before that day-off shopping trip. 

Honestly, it shouldn’t even be memorable. It’s the kind of call they get a lot. False alarm type scenarios from people who are scared. This time it’s a pre-teen claiming she set her house on fire. She didn’t. She burnt dinner and the smoke alarm went off. But Dispatch doesn’t know that obviously, and sends the 118 anyway. 

It brings Eddie right back to being a kid. Something he didn’t really need this week. 

The girl - maybe eleven - was home alone cooking breakfast for her little brother. Eggs. The eggs burnt in the pan, the smoke detector did its job, and one thing led to another. She called 9-1-1, frantic. When they arrive, she’s crying on the front lawn, arms wrapped around her little brother’s shoulders. 

By the time the 118 is ready to leave, the parents both show up. In individual cars. Bobby explains what happened, assured their kids are fine, and that the house is a little smoky, but otherwise okay. This should be a moment of relief. 

It is apparently not. 

The parents immediately burst into argument, riddled with accusations. 

“You should have been here, Sandra!”

“I asked you for one morning, John! One! You are never here!”

“One morning to get your nails done! I had a client meeting!”

“To get my nails done with my cousin I never see! And it’s Saturday! I was on Mom-duty all week!” 

Eddie has to walk away. He feels nauseated. 

“Those poor kids,” Hen exhales, seeing Eddie’s tense expression. 

“Yeah,” Eddie exhales. “Poor kids.”

🗲🗲🗲

Buck’s not going to say anything, but Eddie could use a bit of an attitude adjustment on the day they go shopping for nursery stuff. Like, okay. Buck gets it. Home Depot isn’t the most fun part of the excursion. Certainly not as fun as shopping for cute, soft baby stuff. Though, it’s not like either of them dislike this sort of thing. Buck’s pretty excited about shopping for paint under the right circumstances. And these are great circumstances! The best, even!

But Eddie is just sort of checked out before they even get in the truck. Short, clipped responses and empty stares. And, okay… Buck sort of gets it. He’s been taking over all the nursery planning entirely. Actually, all the planning. He took his clipboard mentality and steamrolled it and maybe he hasn’t given Eddie enough input. Maybe Eddie has been annoyed about this. Buck knows he can be annoying. It would be great, though, if maybe Eddie just said that. Instead of, what? Becoming completely disinterested in the process? They’re only doing this once, and Buck wants it to be memorable for both of them.

It all sort of comes to a head over paint chips.

“I think I like Salamander,” Buck says, holding a paper sample up for Eddie to see. “But should we go with something lighter? Like Cabbage Leaf?” 

And, yeah. Okay. It all sounds sort of silly. But the way Eddie sort of stares at the paint chips with dead eyes, like it couldn’t matter less? It makes Buck want to scream a little. 

“Or, you know…” Buck continues. Because he’s trying here. “There’s a more blue-green tone? Like Country Weekend?” 

“Whatever you like best, Buck,” Eddie says. 

Okay. Fuck not saying anything.

“Do you just not give a shit… Or?”

Eddie recoils a little like he’s been smacked. 

“What?” He demands. “Why the hell would you ask that?”

Oh, great. They’re arguing in front of the Behr Paint display.

“Because I’m trying to make this feel important and you aren’t giving me any energy back!” Buck sort of huffs.

[sonderfairy]

So Chapter 150 is twice the length as a usual chapter because that’s been my tradition for the multiples of 50 (chapters 50 and 100 were the same), along with being a very important scene in the story.

Well that last part isn’t relevant to this post; basically, ever since I finished making that chapter, the pain in my wrists (that used to come and go) flared up and hasn’t gone away.

It was really bad for a few days and I couldn’t draw much at all. But over the past few weeks, the pain has appeared in different areas of my wrists. First it was the outside of both hands, then my right hand it’s been on the inside, and now has moved to both my thumb and below my pinkie. I still can’t put weight on my hands while bending them backwards for too long or it’ll get worse again.

I made a short comment about this in the authors notes of 149 (which goes up tmrw), but I’m going into more detail here ig to explain further.

More below.

I’ve already been using wrist braces, and now have compression gloves, which have been helping so far. I’m trying to be as careful as possible and not draw for too long at a time.

But ultimately, I’m trying to reduce the time it takes to draw chapters without sacrificing the art style too much. My lineartist has been a big help with this, so it pretty much comes down to my coloring and background work.

I want to deliver this story in a way that is still just as meaningful, and not feel cheap or rushed, but I also can’t afford to take a hiatus until season 1 ends later this year.

When planning the composition of panels, I’ll plan it so I can reuse old backgrounds as much as possible. The shading will also gradually get a bit more simplified—which has already been happening, but in a good way! It’s feeling a lot more crisp now.

Anyway I’m not really sure where I was going with this. If I had to end this with some kind of message, I’d say two things:

To aspiring comic artists: make sure whatever art style you use for your comic doesn’t have you drawing for 5+ hours in one sitting multiple days in a row. It won’t hurt at first, but over time it will. There’s no avoiding it. It’s just a matter of how long you can keep it up until it ultimately does.

To readers that understand how much work we do: the best messages of support are not the ones telling us we can take a break. While this is nice for those who only make comics as a hobby, it doesn’t really mean anything when it’s our job and pays our bills. In those cases, we can’t put it aside or take a break whenever we want. So instead, the best messages of support (at least for me) are ones that express appreciation for the comic/work, what you like about it, details you noticed, how much it means to you, etc.

Those sort of comments are the biggest reason I love creating and sharing TMP, and fuel my motivation to keep going. I love hearing how a character made someone smile, (or cry), or how they relate to something in the story.

So yeah, keep that shit up. While having wrist pain sucks ass, it’s worth it when I see how much joy my work adds to people’s lives.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Here is a paraphrased approximation of a conversation I had with my brother last week, which was sort of a continuation of a conversation we’ve had about three times over the past 18 months, and yet we never reach any useful answers.

Relevant context: my brother has been a stand-up comedian in Canada for nearly fifteen years, he and I frequently attend the same comedy nights and see the same comedians and discuss what we think about comedy. He’s really into a lot of American comics, of course has favourites and least favourites from Canada, but knows almost none from other countries.

Further relevant context: I, personally like some North American comedians. I don’t know American comedy nearly as well as I should, I’m sure there’s lots that I don’t know and would like it if I did, I’m not opposed to it as a whole. A quick glance at my comedy hard drive folder shows I have subfolders for Bo Burnham, Demetri Martin, Hari Kondabolu, Nato Green, Mike Birbiglia, Paul F. Thompkins, Jerrod Carmichael. So, see, I do like plenty of American comedians. Though not female ones, according to that list. It’s okay, as I was writing that I saw the Michelle Wolf one. Oh, and I just added a Kristen Schaal folder today! And I’ve got shows by Maria Bamford and Jena Friedman on there, even if they don’t have their own folders. The point is I don’t hate all American comedy. And there’s Canadian comedy that I like as well! I listen to The Debaters on CBC every once in a while, like any good citizen should. However, I sometimes get frustrated by North American comedy, because I like the “stand-up hour”, something that hangs together, which you see from the UK but also from Ireland and Australia and NZ, I’m pretty sure because of their proximities to Edinburgh and MICF, as fringe festivals encourage that sort of thing. While Canadian and American comedians certainly can do that too, but they’re also more likely to just put all their best bits in a row, and drop the worst when they write something new, and not try nearly as hard to make them all cohere. Which is cool, but it’s different, and if you’re judging comedy partly on how well a piece is structured – as I generally do – then you’re going to consider British stuff, as a whole, on a higher level than North America. Though that’s only if you judge the comedy by certain standards that many American comedians aren’t trying to reach, so that’s not necessarily fair. Also it’s obviously a massive overgeneralization to talk about “British comedy” and “American comedy”, and even more so to talk about “British/Ireland/Aussie/Kiwi comedy” vs. “Canadian/American comedy”, as all those things are so varied and there are plenty of British unstructured club comedians and plenty of American storytelling comedians and then you’ve got all the improv going on in New York and stuff and in the UK some people are melting ice; if you count alt-comedy then there is no limit to the variety. But, you know, as a whole, it’s a different tradition, and I tend to prefer the British tradition, but John Hastings made me cry with laughter in a local comedy club last year by doing some of the least intellectual crowd work-based club comedy I’ve ever heard, so I should be less judgmental, probably.

Anyway here’s the (paraphrased, summarized) conversation:

My brother: I just don’t like British comedy, it’s not my thing. I’m really into longer and more complex routines these days, and British comedy seems to be mostly just, like, jokey-jokes. You know, just telling little jokes, and there’s no more to it than that. Me: I don’t understand how you’re so wrong. Like, I know this should all be subjective opinion, but I promise that in this case you’re wrong about a fact, that British comedy in general is the opposite of just doing classic “jokey-jokes”, that’s more of an American thing. My brother: Well I’ve tried British comedy, and it seems like all jokey-joke stuff to me. Me: What are you basing that incorrect opinion on? My brother: Jimmy Carr, Ricky Gervais, Michael McIntyre [note: that bit has not been paraphrased, that was his exact answer] Me: Those aren’t… oh my God, what the fuck are you talking about? Those three guys are in no way representative of the British stand-up comedy tradition! Most actual comedy fans in Britian hate those guys! Also, Ricky Gervais has been in the States for many years now, so the bullshit in his later specials, at least, is American-made. You have to watch other stuff. My brother: I’m sure you could show me some more obscure British comedians who are an exception to that rule, but I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about the big stuff that’s been the most successful. Jimmy Carr, Ricky Gervais, and Michel McIntyre are the best known comedians from there, they’re the mainstream, so I can judge by them. Me: I don’t know how to answer that because I cannot mentally handle how wrong you are. I… okay, if you want someone with mainstream success, what about James Acaster? Can we judge by him? My brother: Well yeah, but that proves my point. James Acaster is another successful comedian from Britain, and he does little jokey-jokes. Me: What the fuck are you talking about? My brother: I don’t know, he does that apricot one. Me: The apricot joke… from Repertoire… you’re using the four-part interconnected masterpiece as an example of how British people don’t do complex structured comedy… because there happened to be a food-based play on words in there… and the apricot joke was funny, by the way, especially in context, because context matters… My brother: Okay, well those aren’t the only British comedians I know! There’s one with short blond hair, she’s not funny, I don’t like her… Me: Who are you talking about? Lots of people have short blond hair and aren’t funny. You, for a start. [note: I must confess I did not actually say this is in the moment, even though my brother has short blond hair. I thought of it while writing this.] My brother: I don’t know, but she’s a British comedian who’s come up in my feed, I’ve watched the clips to give British comedy a chance, and she’s not funny. Might not be she, actually. Might be a they, I think. Me: Right, okay. Well not only are you entirely wrong about Mae Martin not being funny, but I have some great news for you about what country they’re from!

I ended the conversation before my head exploded, but it's been bothering me ever since how someone could possibly be that wrong in that many ways, so I'd like to purge it from my brain here, please.

[nickeverdeen]

Hehehe could I get an Arcane and/or Nimona matchup😋 I’mma yap a lot so prepare LMAOO

My name is Kathryn (or Kat for short) and I'm in school for graphic design and communications - I originally wanted to go into cosmetology to become a desairologist, but I didn't get in. I play piano, dance (hip hop, ballet, tap, and jazz), and sing. I also produce my own music.

Idk how to classify my style so I'lI say it alternates between morute, gloomy coquette, dollette, gothic, and alternative. I also lean heavily towards the feminine side of the spectrum.

I practice witchcraft and l'm also a Christian. I have a weird fascination with dolls and I collect them, specifically porcelain dolls. Like, it's so bad LMAO my friends are scared to come into my room atp!!! Literally I'm probs on someone's rob list I have one worth $400😭🙏

I also collect vinyls. I have over $600 worth of them save me…

Some of my favorite music artists are Bambi Baker, Melanie Martinez, Solya, Elita, Ha Vay, Baby Bugs, and Mercy Necromancy. I also like a lot of rock; AC/DC, Scene Queen, Delilah Bon, BANSHEE, Gurldoll, Ashnikko (she's sometimes rock), and Ennaria

I suppress literally everything until I just burst and it’s been building for two years now so uh yay😍

My humor’s honestly really weird. I can laugh at bread falling but find a really good dad joke stupid and unfunny. I also tend to match the personality of the person I'm speaking to. I’ve also been told I’m really great at comfort but I don’t know about that. A lot of people confide in me with their problems. Like a lot..🥲 not that I mind, it just gets a bit tiring

I’m more attracted to masc leaning people but I’ve also dated fems before. It doesn’t really matter to me as long as we have chemistry, but I do find myself eyeing a lot more masculine girls.. I’m kind of attracted to men, but not a whole lot.

I also don’t like touch unless I’ve known the person for at least 6 months or I initiate it. I’ve had multiple breakdowns because someone who wasn’t a “safe person” touched me without giving any warning…… I tense up MASSIVELY when someone hugs me even if I know they’re going to. The only people that don’t have that effect on me are my best friend (who I’ve known for 4 years) and my dad.

I took a state personality test and I’m exactly 50% INFP and 50% INFJ. Legit confused the test and it gave me both💀

Im diagnosed with anxiety & depression. I've been told I might have OCD, BPD and some sort of depersonalization/derealization disorder.

I believe I could have autism or ADHD. I also have heavy hallucinations that can last either 30 minutes or 2 weeks. I have major mood swings too. One minute I can literally be bouncing up and down while wanting to blow something up and then the next I’ll be crying on the floor😭

Aaanyway I think that’s enough of me yapping have a great day babes<3

Your Arcane match is…

Caitlyn Kiramman

Caitlyn would love discussing your music collection, especially rock and alternative genres

It may not seem like it, but she has a soft spot for underground bands and loves discovering new music

Caitlyn’s patient and empathetic nature makes her a great listener, offering comfort and understanding when you’re feeling overwhelmed or anxious

She’d be your rock during your mood swings

Provides a calming presence and helpes you through tough moments with patience and care

Caitlyn respects your need for personal space and takes care not to touch you without permission, understanding the importance of consent and comfort

Caitlyn would plan unique and adventurous dates, like exploring hidden spots in Piltover or attending underground music gigs

She herself would maybe prefer a classic restaurant one, but when she tried this she prefered this

Caitlyn would like your unique style and often compliment your outfits, even suggesting accessories or outfits that might suit your aesthetic

She’d be a bit unsure and creeped out by the doll thing, though

Caitlyn would silently encourage you to express your emotions and not suppress them

Caitlyn’s love for photography would complement your graphic design skills, and you’d often collaborate on creative projects

She would cherish quiet, quality time with you

Whether it’s listening to music together, having deep conversations, or simply enjoying each other’s company

Your Nimona match is…

Nimona

Nimona’s playful nature would match your quirky humor

She’d often make you laugh with her antics and shapeshifting abilities

Nimona would love going on spontaneous adventures with you, whether it’s exploring new places or trying out new activities

Nimona’s fierce loyalty means she’d be incredibly protective of you, always ready to stand up for you if anyone tried to harm or disrespect you

Nimona would appreciate your artistic talents and often encourage you to express yourself through your art and music

Her unconventional ways of comforting might seem odd, but they’d always make you feel better, like turning into a cute animal to cheer you up

Slowly she would learn to respect your boundaries over time, ensuring she doesn’t touch you without your consent

Nimona would love discovering new music with you and often play your favorite songs during your adventures together

Despite her tough exterior, Nimona has a deep understanding of emotions and would be there for you during your highs and lows

Nimona’s idea of a date would be anything but ordinary – from sneaking into restricted areas to watching thunderstorms from a safe spot

She’d like your unique style and individuality, often praising your confidence

[wrenreid]

Off Limits

contains: mentions of sex, oral (F receiving)

Part Twenty- Two

The night I left her crying at the party, guilt gnawing on my stomach seems like it was ages ago now.

It’s only been two weeks since we officially made up and decided to cut the bullshit, but it’s been a pretty great two weeks. Unfortunately, work drug me across the country from her for a good fraction of the fourteen days, but we’re trying to make up for it now.

We’re laying on my couch, watching reruns of one of Jade’s favorite shows. I’m not much of a fan, but she likes it, so I watch it.

Taking our relationship at a slower level has its moments of difficulty, but it’s been pretty healthy. Of course, when we’re kissing and her lips trail down to my neck, I want to lay her down and kiss every inch of her body and a lot more that I shouldn’t speak of. But I know this is what’s best. Or at least I’m pretty damn sure it’s what’s best.

I’m not one to sleep with people quickly after starting a relationship anyway. I’ve only been in two relationships, and one of them hardly lasted long enough to develop a super intimate sexual connection.

But ever since I’ve realized my attraction to Jade, and I don’t just mean physically, I’ve been craving her. Craving to see her in a way nobody else has. Craving to touch her in a way nobody else has. Craving to be touched by her. To be seen by her. Really seen.

That takes vulnerability, though, and if I’ve been taught anything by what I’ve been through and seen in my 28 years of living, it’s that vulnerability is not something to just wear on your sleeve. It’s taken advantage of. It’s used. It’s thrown in your face. It’s not that I don’t trust Jade. I just can’t be that vulnerable with her yet.

She sits up from her position with her head on my shoulder. She looks at me.

“What?” I ask, a smile on my face.

“I’m bored.”

“Sorry I’m not entertaining?”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “I want to do something.”

“Like what?” I ask her.

“You could teach me more about chess?”

I chuckle softly. “You must be really bored.”

She smiles and leads me to my room. I hold her hand as we walk.

I grab the box I keep my chess set in and set it on the bed, the two of us sitting on either side. I set it up since she’s still not exactly certain on how the game works.

I feel her eyes on me, and a faint blush creeps up onto my cheeks.

“You remember what to do?” I ask her, glancing up to look at her.

“Sort of,” she admits as she makes her first move. Jade looks up at me for approval, and I nod my head with a smile. Her cheeks flush.

It’s moments like these where I want to keep her protected, sealed away where no one can’t taint her. She’s perfectly beautiful. On the other hand, her shy blushes and sweet grins make me want to rip all her clothes off and touch every inch of her.

I hate having these thoughts, but she seems to make me crazy.

“I think you’re pretending to not know what to do because you like when I teach you,” Spencer says, a sly grin on his face.

“You’ve caught me, Dr. Reid,” I laugh softly, tossing my hands up in the air like I’ve been caught by the police. In a way, I guess I have.

He smiles, rolling his eyes.

“You’re hot when you’re focused and all authoritative. It’s hard to remember which pieces move where when you’re across from me,” I tell him with a sigh.

Spencer’s cheeks flush red, and he tries to contain his smile. His efforts are useless. “Do you not want to keep playing?”

“You might as well hurry up and beat me,” I chuckle.

“Hey, you could have a chance.”

“Don’t lie to me, doc.”

“Let’s make a deal to get you more motivated, huh? How about if you win, I’ll take you out to lunch anywhere you want.”

“And if you win?” My eyebrow raises as I question him.

“We’ll keep that TBD.”

“Alright then,” I shrug, making my next move.

The fortunate side of Spencer’s impeccable skills are that even though I lost, he put me out of my misery pretty quickly.

“Name your prize, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer looks at me with a change of expression. His gloating smile shifts into a look of desire. It makes my stomach flutter.

He pulls me into him, kissing me slowly. He tastes like coffee. The way-too-sugary coffee that he drinks every morning.

I smile against his lips, holding his arms as his hands hold mine too.

“The knight is being lodged into my stomach, Spence,” I laugh softly, pulling away from our kiss.

“Oh right. Sorry,” he laughs awkwardly and pushes the chess board and pieces off the bed, making sure nothing breaks before returning to kissing me.

Hands begin to roam, and kisses become deeper and sloppier. I moan against his lips softly as his hand cups my clothed chest.

“Spencer,” I pull away, our lips not even an inch away.

“I know, baby,” he says.

He knows I crave him. My body feels like it’s on fire every time we touch, especially since it knows it can’t feel him like that yet.

I pull him back down, lips attaching to his. The tension between us heats up again quickly. I’m laying down with my back against the pillows now, Spencer hovering above me. His lips find their way to my jaw then to my neck, sucking softly on the skin. I can tell his hands want to roam further. But they stay on my hips for now.

A soft moan releases from me as he continues to leave little marks on my neck.

Abruptly, he pulls away, honey eyes staring down at mine. “I want to touch you,” he says, a hint of a restrained whine in his voice.

“Touch me,” I say in almost a whisper.

“Jade,” he sighs.

“I know we’re not having sex yet. But you said that we could other stuff. And that stuff entails?”

He knows my question is rhetorical. He thinks for a second, biting his lip. “You’re sure?”

“I want to do whatever you want,” I tell him.

His lips find their way back to mine, his hunger evident on his tongue. It feels like hours until his hand is slipping under the waistband of my underwear.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“Yes,” I nod, slightly nervous but turned on.

“No one’s fingers have ever been down here before?” Spencer asks this question in a way that makes me sure he’s not teasing me or making fun.

“Only my own,” I answer.

He smiles faintly before kissing me again. My mouth hangs open against his as I feel his fingers brush against my clit.

“You’re already so wet,” he observes, a proud grin on his face.

He circles his fingers around my bundle of nerves once before pulling his hand away.

I whine, looking up at him with a frown.

“Be patient,” Spencer says softly, kissing my forehead.

His hands work at the button of my jeans before slipping them down and off of my legs. His fingers loop underneath the waistband of my underwear before he looks up at me for permission.

I nod. “You can take them off.” I’m feeling incredibly nervous right now because he’s the first person to have seen me like this. But he makes me feel safe too. I just don’t exactly know what to expect.

“What do I have permission to do?” Spencer asks, looking up at me from his spot close to my now bare center.

“Uh- anything. I guess.”

“You guess?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“Whatever you want.”

“I want to taste you,” he says.

Wow. Just his words alone sent a wave of pleasure-filled shock through my body. “Okay.”

“You’re sure you’re ready?” He asks, patting my thigh comfortingly. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I’m ready. I want this.”

With my words giving him assurance, his lips find their way to my core. He looks up at me, his honey eyes dark with lust. His gaze flicks back to my cunt, then back to my eyes. I nod, swallowing down my nerves.

The sensation of the contact between his tongue and my clit make me gasp. The movements he makes are slow, gentle. He’s easing me into it. Spencer’s tongue licks up me again, drawing a small noise from my throat. After a moment, the flicking of his tongue against my clit quicken.

Holy fuck.

I’m squirming. I can’t help it. It’s a lot. I squeeze my eyes shut as my heart slams against my chest.

“Stop,” I breathe out.

I don’t have time to even get another inhale of oxygen before his mouth is away from me. He’s looking up at my face, worry stitched into his eyebrows.

“Are you okay? I did I hurt you?” Spencer asks, almost shameful.

“N-no,” I assure him. “No, it’s just too much. I need a minute.”

He sits up, his hand on my knee gently. He’s looking down at his hand, looking like he feels guilty. “Yeah, of course. We’ll stop, we could-“

I’m shaking my head when his eyes meet mine again. “I want to do this. Can we just-“

“Are you sure? I can take you home or we could watch a movie.” His words are gentle.

“I want to do this,” I repeat. “I’m good now, I just needed a second, a short break.” I laugh softly, nervously.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” I say with a slight smile.

His hands squeeze my thighs gently as he gets back into his previous, pre-intervention position. “Just relax, okay? I’ve got you.”

I take a deep breath, letting his words soothe me. The gentle licks across my center return, and I close my eyes, letting myself enjoy it.

It feels good. Really good. Especially when his tongue does that quick flicking across the bundle of nerves between my legs.

A whine releases from my lips. I keep my eyes closed, trying to relax, just like he said.

“Fuck,” I moan. The sucking. Holy shit.

It’s a lot. Too much. How am I supposed to relax when he’s making my legs shake with his mouth on me?

Whines are drawn from my lips as he continues. He’s sucking on my clit, occasionally swirling his tongue across it.

I open my eyes to see his staring up at mine. He looks pleased. I draw my lip between my teeth, biting down in attempt to quiet myself. My efforts are useless.

Spencer’s hands grip my thighs, and something changes in his demeanor. He’s devouring me now, like he’s been starving his whole life, and I’m the only fuel he needs.

My moans have grown desperate and loud. He has to force my hips down just so I can stay still for him.

“Spencer,” I whine. “Fuck, Spence.”

“Relax,” he says gently before returning to his mission.

The sight of him going down on me makes me dizzy, and, god, I never knew the sounds of this could be so sexy. The knot in my stomach tightens with each movement of his lips; it’s begging for release.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Spencer tells me, his breath making contact with my sensitive clit before his mouth returns to it.

It doesn’t take much longer for the world around me to blur. My entire body, every little muscle tenses up. I feel like I’m practically yelling his name as I finally let go. The tension in my stomach releases, my heart slams against my rib cage.

I just lie there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, my chest rising and falling quickly.

“Jade,” Spencer’s voice says, but it’s distant. “Are you okay?” His face appears above mine.

“Holy fuck,” I breathe out.

He laughs softly, a blush on his cheeks. His lips are wet. He wipes off the drool. “I’m taking that as a yes…?”

“Oh my god, Spencer,” I say, sitting up. “All that rambling on about interesting facts really paid off. You’re good with your mouth.”

Spencer shakes his head. He leans in and plants a kiss to my lips. I deepen it, taking his bottom lip inside my mouth. I taste myself on him.

“Can I confess something?” He asks, his hand cupping my cheek.

I nod, my eyes getting lost in his. A pool of honey, holding me hostage like a fly.

“I’ve never done that before either,” he whispers.

“Really?” I ask, shocked. Spencer nods.

“You couldn’t tell. It was amazing, but then again I don’t have anyone else to compare it to, so your performance could’ve been mediocre,” I tease.

“I don’t think mediocre has ever made someone moan like that,” he retorts.

I face palm, cheeks turning scarlet.

“C’mon, I was just teasing,” he grins. “Don’t be embarrassed.” Spencer removes my palm from my face, revealing my blush.

He reaches up to brush a stray piece of hair out of my face. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

“Stop,” I laugh softly.

“I’m serious,” he says, and his tone of voice backs up his words. “Let’s go get lunch.”

“But-?” I start, looking down at his lap. I should return the favor, right?

“I did just have a pretty good meal, but I’m hungry. I’m sure you’re hungry too,” Spencer laughs softly.

I shake my head, the crimson creeping back up onto my cheeks.

part 23

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @jazzerbelle14 @kylakins88 @f-me-reid @lovejules888 @marimorena06 @daph-421 @idkusername8787

[lanaconfesses]

"Save me or I’ll die from sadness right now."

That’s the message I send to Adrian. He replies immediately (once, he confessed that he has a special notification sound just for our chat).

"What did he do this time?"

I don’t know how, but it feels like Adrian can sense everything in my head and soul. I’m starting to worry he can read thoughts – at least mine.

"How do you know it’s about Alex?"

Alex is my… well, it’s complicated. We started dating last Christmas, broke up in May, and hadn’t talked until September – he blocked me, leaving me alone with three awful months of pure hysteria. Just as I was starting to recover from everything, he unblocked me and wrote (partly thanks to my bestie, but I’ll tell you that story another time), and now he writes every so often – maybe once a month. And a couple of weeks ago, we somehow confessed our love for each other, and now it’s just a complete mess trying to figure out what the hell is going on between us.

"Who else could it be about?"

I exhale and finally decide to vent to Adrian, even though he already dislikes Alex enough.

"Well, nothing specific really. It’s just that his replies are so cold, I can feel the chill through the screen. Like he doesn’t even care. I get it, depression and all that, but…"

"Little shit. Don’t cry over him, princess. Want me to do something to make you feel better?"

And that’s how I ended up in Adrian’s car that evening. He showed up under my building as a surprise – told me to come down, we’re going for a ride.

So now we’re driving through the city at night – no particular destination, just cruising. I happily admire the city lights like a cat at Christmas tree. Adrian laughs at me and drives, playing the music I like. First, we hit the city highway – speeding through downtown. Neon signs – blue, pink, purple. Traffic lights – red, yellow, emerald. The lights in the windows – white. Street lamps – blue and orange. My eyes dissolve into all these colors, unfocus, relax. Alex’s face finally fades away (whether my eyes are open or closed).

Then we drive onto a road that takes us between the city park and the lake. My body melts into the passenger seat. I imagine I’m lying on the water – on the surface of the cold December lake. I’m lying there, drifting on small waves, not sinking, not swimming, just lying. Under me, huge catfish swim, as big as logs, looking like tree trunks fallen into the water, but I don’t care. I’m just lying there, staring at the starry sky. Alex is probably looking at it too right now – standing on his balcony, holding a cigarette between his fingers.

"Are you already asleep, kid?" Adrian laughs at me.

"Don’t call me a kid," I pretend to be offended, but the satisfied smile betrays my insincerity.

Adrian calls me that a lot, and honestly, he has every right to. He’s older than me – he’s 27, I’m 20, and he’s known me since I was literally a kid. Our families have been friends for a long time, so Adrian used to babysit me during family gatherings. He probably wasn’t thrilled about it back then, but as you can see, he still babysits me now.

"Are you not so sad anymore?" he asks, concern in his voice.

I shake my head, though I’m still sad – it’s just that at least now I don’t feel abandoned or unwanted. I’m tempted to snap a photo and post it on social media so Alex can see that I’m out with someone, but I don’t do it – he (unfortunately or fortunately) isn’t stupid and would figure out that I did it on purpose for him. And I don’t want that. I’ve already humiliated myself enough in front of him.

"So, maybe you’ll tell me what happened between you two?"

I flinch, remembering. I’m angry at Alex, even though I’m still in love with him. It’s such a weird feeling – loving and being furious at the same time. You know, something in between "I hope you die" and "I’ll die without you."

"Well, nothing...," I exhale heavily. "It seems to be sorting itself out. We started texting a little. But he doesn’t reply for a long time, doesn’t read my messages, answers unwillingly... I asked if he even wanted me to write, and he said ‘I’m all for it.’ I just don’t understand what’s going on. Alex is… well, Alex."

Adrian laughs and shakes his head.

"And the most important thing I feel is that he still loves me. It’s just that his love is so strange. It’s like… it’s not really love at all."

"Love can be different," Adrian says philosophically as he turns onto a narrow two-lane road on the other side of the lake. The streetlights flicker in different colors, and I stare again like a cat at a Christmas tree. "Just because he loves you differently than you’d like doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you at all. Besides, you said he’s depressed."

"Depressed," I sigh, confirming. "I know. It’s just so hard for me. I want everything to be completely different from how it is."

"Distance also plays a role," Adrian continues to comfort me. "If you were in the same city right now, you’d already have gone on a few dates, kissed in some dark alley, and your love would have flared up again."

"If we were in the same city, we wouldn’t have broken up!" I scoff. "Everything got ruined with that rushed attempt to live together."

"Well, screw it," Adrian shrugs. "You can see for yourself, something brought you two back together anyway. Give the guy a chance to get out of his depression, after all."

"Since when are you defending him?" I laugh.

"If I say everything I really want to, you’ll scratch my eyes out, and we’ll crash somewhere."

I laugh. It’s true: only I can say nasty things about Alex, and only when I’m justifiably angry with him. And I’m always justifiably angry because I’m such a fair person and definitely not an overly emotional girl, I swear.

"Hungry?"

It’s not that my stomach is hungry, but I have a very bad habit of eating away sadness, anger, tears, and pretty much everything else.

"A little."

We stand by the McDonald's until we've eaten everything we ordered. I've always envied Adrian for being able to eat as much as he wants and stay as skinny as a dried fish – I wish I had that superpower too. He's finishing his third burger, choking on laughter from my jokes, while I can't finish my one single burger, still laughing at some nonsense, even though I know that tomorrow morning, after this midnight snack, it's probably better not to step on the scale.

It’s snowing outside. Against the streetlight, I can see how tiny snowflakes fall slowly, spinning in the air. Our jackets are on the back seat, and I also envy Adrian for having the superpower to go outside in just a turtleneck and not freeze. Lana Del Rey is singing about the West Coast on the radio, and it contrasts so much with the landscape outside the windshield that I feel like I'm in a dream.

"Not so angry anymore?" Adrian laughs, biting into a nugget.

"I think I overate" I groan, weakly leaning back on the seat and gently patting my stomach.

Adrian chuckles softly.

"What could you have overeaten? Are you on your diets again? "

I've been on diets for as long as I can remember, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve been losing weight, then slipping and gaining it back. During the three months I was lying in bed, crying 24/7, I gained weight from stress, so now it's that period when I'm trying to lose it again. The endless circle of diets in my life. It would break if I had the strength to get into the habit of normal eating and some exercise, but I’m either too lazy or too weak-willed.

"No, I’m not on a diet," I deny, because Adrian will scold me if I admit it. He’s the type of person who constantly tells me that losing weight this way is dangerous, but who listens to him? Maybe someday I’ll get tired of it all, and I’ll actually listen to his advice, but probably not in this life. "It’s just that I can’t eat as much in one go as you."

He bursts out laughing. Adrian never believes me when I say I get full eating so little. No one really believes me. Maybe they would if I were thin, but I’m not.

He wipes his mouth and hands with the napkin I kindly offered, tucks his long dark-blonde hair behind his ears (it came out of the knot on the back of his neck), and drinks some cola.

"Should I take you home, or do you want to stop at the gas station with me and drive around a bit more?"

I don’t want to go home – there, I’ll lock myself in my room and cry over Alex again. So, the bright lit-up “M” fades behind us, and we head to the outskirts of the city.

At the gas station, Adrian gets out to fill up the tank and pay, while I stay in the car and sing along. Honestly, after the burger and Fanta, my mood has improved. Even though the song is sad (it’s Lana Del Rey! whose other songs can exist for you in the period when you are suffering because of a boyfriend?), I’m almost dancing in my seat, imagining I’m singing on stage, occasionally looking at Alex in the audience, who’s shedding a solitary tear, realizing from the lyrics how deeply he’s hurt me with his behavior. And I sing to him, and to thousands of other cold, distant guys who can’t return their girlfriends’ love. Too bad it's just fantasy, and even if it were true, Alex wouldn’t care about what I’m singing about. A sad song is just a sad song, what’s there to think about?

It’s not that he changed in any special way. From the very beginning of our relationship, he wasn’t very open with his affections – that’s just who he is. Along with his natural secrecy and phlegmatic nature, he also has depression and struggles with studying, so blaming him is truly pointless. But I still wanted our relationship to look different. I wanted to go on dates with him, kiss under streetlights, send each other cute love memes in the chat, and feel… well, you know, like a girl who has a boyfriend. I bite my cheek, unwilling to admit the real thought that’s been running through my mind all evening: it should have been Alex driving me around the city at night, feeding me at McDonald's, and entertaining me with funny jokes, not Adrian. Although, Alex doesn’t have a driver’s license or a car, but you get what I mean.

Adrian comes back with a couple of my favorite candy bars and insists on pushing them into my hands.

"Here, keep them in case you get hit with another love slump."

I laugh weakly and put the candy bars in my purse. Something tells me I’ll end up eating them tonight, to the sound of sad songs (I have a separate playlist called “him❤️‍🩹” filled with a bunch of sad songs, what a shame, yeah?), if I don’t forget they’re in my purse and they don’t melt.

"Come on, stop moping," he pats me encouragingly on the shoulder. "Two depressed people in one couple is a bit too much. Someone has to stay alright."

I laugh out of obligation, tilt my head on my shoulder, and admire the snowstorm that’s gotten stronger while we were at the gas station. Something tells me that tonight, in my journal, I’ll draw myself with Alex, dreaming about what could have been if it had been him, instead of Adrian, tonight.

[never-not-ever]

Long update ahead~

I’m on roommate #6 which is sort of low considering I’ve been here 8 months today. This is going to be so random but once I start thinking of something (like rooms, roommates and how long for each) I get fixated and like to waste time on it.

I had a single room when I first got here and I think I had it for a week.

I moved into room #2 with roommate #1, I think we were roommates for 2 weeks before she discharged. Then I got roommate #2 and was with her for about a week before I moved into a single. I was in that single for 5 weeks. Then I moved into room #4 and had the best roommate ever for about 3 weeks before she discharged. So I was in room #4 for 11 weeks which is the longest I’ve had a stable room. When my old favorite roommate discharged I got a new roommate #4 and me and her were roommates for so long, about 11 weeks. Our room ended up getting mold and we had to move after 7 weeks together which brings me to room number #5. (Started to get confused, so I made a table below, it’s literally been an hour now fixated on this room/roommate shit). We were roommates for another 3 weeks in room #5 before I moved into a single for about 7 weeks. Then I moved to my current room #7 and had roommate #5 for 4 weeks and my current roommate #6 for about a week.

Room#/Length/Roommate

#1- 1 week, single room

#2- 3 weeks, C- 2 weeks, M- 1 week

#3- 5 weeks, single room

#4- 11 weeks, M- 3 weeks, A- 8 weeks

#5- 3 weeks, A- 3 more weeks

#6-7 weeks, single room

#7- 4 weeks, V- 4 weeks, G- 1 week

I guess it’s really # of times I’ve moved, since room #2 and #4 were actually the same room. But the second time around I was on the other side of the room. Wow was that a lot of useless information for nothing! Glad I got that out of my system. Time to see where I last left off on an update… like 3.5 weeks ago… hmmm…

Seems clear cut what to update on. So I posted last on a Monday. I actually remember these past 3 weeks clearly. That Monday was a crying, empty, “I ruined everything/hate myself” day. The next day I clarified with my team that the 6 month IOP and the PHP are definitely off the table and they said yes. I went and sat in my corner at the end of the farthest hall, started crying and getting upset again but it was quick, not an all day affair like the previous day.

In order to leave it’s always been the same criteria- I have to have outside providers set up and need to stop self harming. I mean the self harming isn’t a reason to keep me here, it’s more so the structure/providers to leave. But if the self harming gets severe like it usually does then that’s reason for them to pull back on discharge as well.

So that day I said fuck it, I’m leaving next Friday. I spent all day figuring out my crappy insurance, searching for psychiatrists and therapists and partials. I had all the rest of that week and the following week before my hopeful discharge that Friday to get everything together.

The only issue is vacations. That Friday (my personal discharge date) was my doctors last day before her 2 week vacation. She was fine with the covering doctor discharging me while she’s gone if he was comfortable with it. See I wanted to leave that Friday because I would have a week at home with my Nana before she went on vacation for a week. My Nana and my team were all worried about me being home alone while she was away.

That’s why I wanted to leave that Friday but that didn’t happen. I was so hellbent on making that my discharge date that I put blinders on and pushed away urges and the self harm stopped, I just wanted to leave. I thought maybe I could leave next week, maybe the covering doctor would discharge me. Then my social worker told me we were going to have a meeting the following Thursday with my Nana. And that’s when I realized I wasn’t leaving while my doctor was on vacation, that I would be here til the end of the month. Because my Nana would not be comfortable with me discharging the day before she went away for a week, leaving me home alone.

So during my doctors last week my mood started to drop and it honest to god had nothing to do with her leaving. I just started to feel so hopeless again. My doctor said she was worried if I didn’t leave on that Friday like I hoped, that I would unravel. I guess she was right.

This shift in things started almost 3 weeks ago but this past week things have gotten so much worse. I’m constantly on high alert and anxious. My mood is so low and I spend so much of the day thinking about self harm, which has started up again. Surprisingly I’m still on 15s and able to go outside on walks so not much has changed with privileges being cut back. We’ll see what my doctor thinks/does when she gets back.

I’m still looking for a therapist. Once I have that, we can set a discharge date and put in a referral for a partial. The only issue is the self harm. I have 4 days before my doctor gets back. I could miraculously turn everything around, go these 4 days without self harm and have an optimistic attitude on Tuesday when I meet with her. But if it was that easy I would have left a long time ago.

I’m constantly invalidating everything I feel and think. But for once I’m going to say and believe that I can’t change how low my mood has gotten. I can’t change that the SI has started to creep back in because of the hopelessness. I can’t change any of that. And because of that I’m worried about these next few days and her return. I know I can control my actions in regards to self harm but only up until a point.

That’s enough of a treatment update. I’ll try to post more frequent about non-treatmenty things.

[tinyinvadr]

I’m back, baby! I’ve been playing around with this idea for a while, and I’m finally ready to share it! This is a story that takes place after Psychoborrower 2, following Flint as he returns to Whispering Rock as a junior counselor. But as always, an unknown threat looms just out of sight, and this time, he doesn’t have Raz.

Psychoborrower: Whispering Rock

Chapter 1

“Before we begin, there’s something I need to address. You’ve all probably heard the rumors from your parents about how I went rogue and kidnapped all the campers last week. Well, those rumors… are TRUE!”

A couple kids started screaming and crying. Some things never change.

“Seriously, Morry? Again?” Sasha sighed, shaking his head.

“I wasn’t finished! I assure you, I’ve gotten all my issues worked out, and no longer have any desire to steal your brains and load them into armored death tanks to take over the world.”

This did next to nothing in regards to reassuring the campers, but Milla took over and changed the subject so they wouldn’t dwell on it. Though, that only boosted my anxiety. It was almost time for me to officially make my debut as a junior counselor. Sasha took note of this right away.

“Nervous?”

“Heh, yeah. I’m guessing you can hear my thoughts pretty clearly since I’m sitting on your shoulder.”

“That, and you’re shaking like a leaf right now.”

I hadn’t even noticed how jittery I was. I was too caught up in my spiraling thoughts. I just really, REALLY wanted this to go well.

“You’re going to do fine, Flint. You’ve already proven to be an excellent mentor with Razputin. And if you need help with anything, you have our support.”

“Thanks, Sasha.”

By that point, it was time for me to take the podium.

“And finally, we are happy to welcome a new member to the staff this summer: Junior Agent Flint Loveseat!”

The kids applauded as Sasha walked out onto the stage and set me down on the podium, right by the microphone.

“Hi-”

The microphone screeched, and I took a step back. Apparently I was too close.

“Sorry. Um… Hi, my name is Flint Loveseat, and I’ve been training here at Whispering Rock for many years. Just recently, I was fortunate enough to take on an internship with Agent Nein at the Motherlobe, and from there, I was promoted to the position of a Junior Agent. For some time, I doubted any of this would be possible for me. I thought, as a borrower, that my dreams of being a Psychonaut would always be out of my reach. I tried to hide who I truly was, which… didn’t work as well as I thought it did. But the staff here at Whispering Rock has been so supportive, and now, I’m working alongside them. The reason I’m here, well… I know there are other borrower kids out here, right now. And I just want you to know that you have a place here. You can take training at your own pace, and I’ll be here to help you. But believe me when I say you have nothing to be afraid of. I wouldn’t be where I am today without my teammates.”

After giving what I consider to be a decent opening speech, Sasha took me back to his lab, where my old living quarters were still set up. Strangely, it felt like I’d been away for a lot longer when it was only a couple days.

Though, they WERE an eventful couple days, to say the least. Helping people overcome their trauma, and also dealing with the complicated situation that my family, the Aquatos, and Ford were all wrapped up in, it was a lot to deal with all at once.

I could only hope things would finally settle down. It would be a nice change of pace to have my primary concern be over adjusting to my position as a junior counselor rather than world ending threats and generational trauma.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean this job would be easy. I’d be shocked to come across a borrower who DOESN’T have some sort of trauma. We live in a world where a potential threat lies at every corner, and we have to be constantly alert just to stay alive.

Not to mention that the new kids were likely still afraid of humans, and they would need to overcome that in order to attend class.

I figured I’d teach them how to shift their astral forms first. The question was which mental world to use as training grounds for that.

I knew Coach would probably want them to run through Basic Braining first, but that could be a little intense. Not just for borrowers, but for anyone.

Sasha’s mind would be the best option. It was a quiet, controlled environment. And Raz wouldn’t be there to screw it up again.

With the basic framework of a plan in mind, I went to sleep that night with confidence. Everything was going to work out, I was sure of it. I managed to make it through the past couple days, after all.

But that night, the strangest thing happened. Something I’d never experienced before.

I drifted off into a dream. It wasn’t anything noteworthy. Frazie may or may not have been in it, but that’s not important.

The dream was interrupted by a cold chill. Usually you can’t feel physical sensations in dreams, but this was different. It felt real.

An icy mist clouded my vision, taking over until there was nothing left but a void. A distorted figure that I couldn’t make out slowly approached.

“Give it up, Flint.”

“Huh? Who are you?”

“I‘ll decide if you get to know that information or not.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What’s going on here? And why is it so cold?”

Suddenly, the freezing feeling became significantly more intense, and I felt like I couldn’t move. I glanced down, and my body was encased in a block of ice up to my neck.

“Enough with your questions, child. Listen carefully. I’m only going to ask you this once. I trust that you’ll make the right decision. After all, you’re already aware of the dark secrets that your beloved organization is willing to keep. I’m here to tell you that the Psychonauts don’t have your best interests at heart. You’re nothing more than a tool to them. You make them look good while simultaneously being completely expendable. If you’re smart, you’ll leave.”

“Why should I listen to anything you’re saying if I don’t even know who you are? And I don’t appreciate being turned into an ice cube!”

“I know how your mother suffered due to the actions of Ford Cruller. And I can tell you right now, that is far from the only terrible thing the Psychonauts have done. Make the right choice, Flint. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

With that, they sent a freezing ice blast right at my head, forcing me to wake up.

I shot up from my pillow, trying to catch my breath as I could still feel chills running down my spine. I wasn’t sure how they did it, but that person infiltrated my dreams. It felt too real to have just been a nightmare. Someone was trying to contact me and get me on their side.

Suddenly, the lights turned on, and I had to squint as I adjusted to the brightness. When I opened my eyes, I saw Sasha standing by the light switch.

“I sensed your distress. Is everything alright, Flint?”

He sat down at his workbench and listened intently as I explained everything. I had gotten pretty good at reading Sasha’s emotions. The stoic and serious front he put up made it hard for people who didn’t know him to tell what he was thinking, but I knew he was concerned about me.

“That sounds like a Dreamwalker.”

“Huh? What’s a Dreamwalker?”

“There is a rare psychic power that allows those who possess it to enter the minds of anyone through their dreams. Unlike most psychics, they do not require a psychic link or psycho-portal to astral project. They have unlimited access to any mind at any time. As you can probably deduce, a power like this can be incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“Yeah… so, what do we do? Is there a way to keep this person out of my head?”

“I’ll contact Otto and see if he can send over a psychic block for you to wear while you sleep. Though, I’m not sure if he has one on hand that will fit you, so he may need to build one. Until then, I’d refrain from sleeping.”

“WHAT?! Sasha, I can’t just NOT sleep! I’ve got campers to train! And I’ll eventually just pass out anyway!”

He chuckled. “You can still retain energy through astral projection. Sleep is still important, but if you stay in the Brain Tumbler during the night, it should serve as a temporary substitution. Though… if this person has already breached your mind, they may still be able to reach you in the Collective Unconscious. It might be better to stay in my mental world so they can’t find you.”

I preferred that idea, anyway. Sitting alone in the Collective Unconscious while being conscious during the whole thing sounded REALLY boring. Still, I had my concerns.

“Are you sure you’re okay with doing that? I mean, you still need sleep.”

“I’ve pulled plenty of all-nighters in my day. Besides, losing a little sleep for a few days is worth it as long as I know you’re safe.“

I smiled. It was always nice to know that Sasha had my back. He’d essentially become my temporary guardian during my time at camp, and even though I’d been reunited with my parents, I was grateful he was still looking out for me.

He opened the portal, and I projected into his mental world like I did so many times before. It was a place I’d come to associate with hard work and focus, but also peace and reflection. In short, it was the perfect place to keep my mind healthy while we sorted out the Dreamwalker situation.

Still, I couldn’t help but be concerned about what that person wanted with me, or how they seemed to know so much about me.

I was pulled from my thoughts by the sound of laughter and tiny footsteps tapping against the surface of the cube. Someone else was with us.

Sasha and I both went on high alert, and a few seconds later, we saw a tiny child with pink hair come running up from another side of the cube.

“This is so cool!!!”

Sasha sighed. “Well, it seems your first student is here early. You should probably approach them first. I’ll stay out of the way in case they aren’t ready to be around humans yet, but if you need help with anything, let me know.”

Right as I was about to go over and talk to the kid, they had already run off to a different side. Surprisingly, they could cover a lot of ground with their short legs. I summoned my Thought Bubble and began my chase. I’d have to catch up to them eventually.