#You fuckers are silly. Good distractions.

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter VII: Choose Love or Sympathy

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev. | diaries coming soon

songs for this chapter: that’s what you get by paramore, xo by fall out boy, lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, king for a day by pierce the veil

a/n: hear me when i say these two are absolutely in for it it. I'm also a huge fan of italics apparently

chapter tags: angst, hurt/comfort but then... hurt/no comfort (SORRY!), reader is a sensitive baby we love her, mean!Eddie, but also very sweet Eddie. swearing, smoking, drinking, reader struggles with self image / mental health (vague for now) | fic tags: angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog/comment/like to support the author! Join the tag list!

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotine @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality |

--

The weekend comes barreling towards you sooner than you’d have liked. You wake up Friday morning with a sense of dread, Robin’s words on a broken loop in your head: what you ‘know’ isn’t the whole goddamn story. Everyone keeps fucking saying that, but no one has actually told you what you “don’t know.”. Chris hasn’t given you a goddamn leg to stand on, speaking in riddles and never once confirming or denying a thing. You’re an adult, and you wish these fuckers would start treating you like one.

On your nightstand, your phone buzzes repeatedly, a string of incoming text messages:

bobbins: so,, ive smoked some weed bobbins: im cool now  bobbins: i still think there’s a lot we don’t know,, bobbins: but I’m sorry for insinuating you should forgive him. bobbins: i cant imagine how you felt that day. bobbins: i love u bb

You scramble to respond before she can get another five messages in,

it’s ok bob, i love u 2

The subject changes swiftly as she tosses questions about tonight at you one after the other. You send her pictures of your outfit choices, hairstyle ideas, personal protection list before finally asking her the question gnawing on your brain. 

What if he doesn’t like me?

Robin responds by calling you.

“Hi?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She starts, not letting you explain. “He asked you out, why wouldn’t he like you?!”

“I dunno! Maybe he’s just looking for a hookup. Maybe he thought I’d be easy?” The suggestion sounds silly coming out of your mouth, and you hear Robin scoff at you. 

“Look, if things start to stink, call me. Steve’s closing tonight, so he’ll be right down the street.”

You sigh into the receiver. “Okay, okay. You’re right, I’m probably worried for nothing.”

“Atta girl! Now go on, go headbang or whatever it is you people do.”

You snort as you say your goodbyes, and hang up the phone. Without Robin to distract you, you turn to the outfits you’ve spread out on your bed. Emo Nite is casual, sure, but you still want to look good. You decide on a pair of Tripp pants, adorned with metal hooks and chains, pairing it with an old Paramore shirt you cropped with kitchen scissors in high school. With your outfit out of the way, you sit at your vanity to do your makeup, extending your winged eyeliner a little further than you would on a normal day. When you’re done, your alarm clock reads 8:30, and you make your way to your car. 

–

9:15.

The lights of the city seem to dance across the sky. Everything is louder here, bustling with nightlife you could only dream of seeing in Hawkins. You’re standing outside the club alone, nursing the end of your last cigarette. Maybe he’s running late? You don’t have a single unread text from Scotty. You type several different messages of your own, deleting each one before settling on “You on your way?” But its delivery is never confirmed. It’s grown cold outside, and you wrap your flannel tighter around you to keep the wind out. You should have brought a jacket, but you weren’t expecting to be outside for this long. You can hear the first notes of an old favorite song, followed by a bunch of 20 somethings cheering. Patrons are dressed in black, clad in leather and fishnets, their combat booted feet stomping into the venue. Emo Nite is a nostalgia cash grab, you know that, but you’re envious of everyone setting foot inside, surrounded by their friends and peers, leaving you abandoned at the door. 

–

9:30.

The time taunts you from your phone screen. You’re waiting outside the club, the air brisk on your face. Every so often, the door swings open as someone enters or exits, and you turn to see if it’s someone for you. So far, none of them have been, and you’re debating whether or not to walk to the record store and ask Steve to hitch a ride back to his place to mope. 

“Hey, Bee!” The voice calling you isn’t the one you’re hoping to hear, but it’s just as familiar. You find its source across the street, Macy waving at you eagerly as her bandmates and fucking Eddie follow behind. Oh, right. Like being stood up isn’t humiliating enough, now Eddie gets to tease you about it. 

“What’re you doing out here, girl? It’s freezing!” Macy is sweet, holding your icy cheeks between her warm hands. You can tell she’s already had a few drinks.

“I’m, hm,” You clear your throat, “I’m waiting for someone.”

“A date? Eek! Hear that, Eds? Our girl has a date!” Her words send static through your veins. Since when are you anyone’s girl, let alone Munson and Macy’s?

“Mhm, okay, honey. Let’s go get you situated, yeah?” Eddie ushers her inside, handing her off to Fiona before returning to where you’re standing. Without a word, he lights a cigarette and offers it to you, and you take it without acknowledgement while he lights his own. After what seems like hours, the two of you choose to speak at the same time,

“How late is–” “Why did you–” “What?” “What?”

“You first,” Eddie gestures to you before pulling from his cigarette.

“Why did you tell Scotty to ask me out?” 

“What in the world makes you think I told him to ask you out?”

“Look, she’s gonna kill me for telling you this, but Robin overheard you in the bathroom talking to Scotty at the bar. She walked in by accident, and you two had come in before she could leave. Anyway, you know she can’t keep secrets for shit, so she told me what you said to him. Why?” You cross your arms, attempting to hold in as much body heat as possible,but to no avail. Eddie notices, and immediately sheds his jacket, not giving you a chance to refuse it as he drapes the leather over your shoulders. 

“I thought he was a cool dude. Thought you guys would hit it off.” His answer does nothing to satiate the hunger for every detail of every single thought that went through his brain up until this very moment. He is driving you fucking insane. “Hey, I bet I could get Macy to put you on the guestlist, so at least tonight won’t be a total waste?” Yet another peace offering from Eddie Munson. Hell must have frozen over.

He doesn’t wait for your approval before reaching into his inner jacket pocket of the coat that you have since put fully on to shield yourself from the wind, to grab his phone. After eagerly punching a few buttons, he holds the device up to his ear, plugging the other with his finger. “Hey, babe. I’m outside with Bee, Scott stood her up.” You can’t hear what Macy’s response is, but Eddie replies with, “You read my mind, honey. We’ll be in in a sec.” He ends the call and turns his attention back to you, his big brown eyes attempting, it seems, to read your mind. “You pissed?”

You shake your head, inhaling another drag of your cigarette. “Not really. Disappointed, I guess.” You pick at your cuticles, refusing to hold eye contact with Eddie, but that doesn’t stop him from boring his own into the top of your head; you can feel them penetrating your skull. “Could’a used the distraction.”

“Fancy me a distractor? Macy’s gonna be busy, I’m practically all by myself tonight.” You look up, and Eddie’s jutting his bottom lip out to pout at you. 

“You don’t mind being seen with me?” You tease, flicking ash onto the concrete. You can’t imagine Eddie actually wants you to agree to this offer.

“Why would I? When have I ever cared what people think of me? Especially these posers.” He gestures to you, and you fake offense.

“Posers?! I’ll have you know I have met some of the most authentic punks at places like this, you dweeb!” You toss your cigarette butt on the ground, stomping out the embers with your boot. 

“Sorry, sorry! I’m used to going to shows where people leave bloody. Not used to this side of the alternative Venn Diagram, I guess.” He flicks his own cigarette, mirroring your movements. “Shall we go inside?” You nod begrudgingly, and he opens the door to the club for you, stopping to give the bouncer your names.

–

The club is dark, expectedly. The lights flash shades of pink, purple, and blue as people dance and attempt to chat over the noise; and the whole scene is set to the music of your childhood and teen years. As Eddie leads you across the floor, you can feel your chest tighten, watching couples surrounding you, dancing or sloppily making out against the back wall. You let it sink in that you've been stood up. The first time in three years you’d even attempted to go on a date, and the guy didn’t even show up. You hum along to the song playing, a desperate plea for distraction from the situation in front of you. Meanwhile, Eddie leads you to a table away from the speakers, and shouts that he’ll be right back. You can only guess he’s off to wish his girlfriend luck.

While you wait, you observe the crowd around you, and it’s full of kids you knew in high school that used to bully you for liking this kind of music, dressed as caricatures with arm warmers and cheap chains dangling off their black skinny jeans. Conventionally attractive girls wear their eyeliner in heavy wings, their lips painted shades of dark red, dancing with boys in all black with long hair. You try not to think about what Scotty would have worn. You wonder if he even likes this kind of thing. Maybe it was a test, and you'd failed.

Just as you’re about to spiral into misery again, Eddie returns with two drinks in his hands. “You like shirleys, right? I wasn’t totally sure. I can go grab you something else if you want?” If you didn’t know any better, you would think Eddie was nervous.

“No, this is good. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem!” He has to yell over the music.

“And, uh, thanks for hanging out with me. I know it’s like, the last thing you wanna be doing right now.”

Eddie takes a swig of his beer before responding, “Nah, definitely not the last thing. This is way better than listening to Steve talk about his latest conquest.” You picture the scenario, Eddie slamming his head against a wall while Steve goes on and on about Tracy, or Nicole, or whoever it is this week. The mental image makes you giggle, and Eddie’s smile seems to widen. It makes you uncomfortable, being so close to him. Luckily, though, you don’t get to think about it too long.

“Alright, alright! Thank you guys for comin’ out to hang with us! We have a guest for you tonight, please welcome Macy Miller, frontwoman of Statuesque Dolls!” The crowd cheers politely, these things never have people worth freaking out over. Macy takes the stage, clad in a silky black dress that hugs her form perfectly. Next to you, Eddie is whooping and hollering, “That’s my girl!” It makes your stomach churn. You’re reminded again that you’re supposed to be here on a date. You’re supposed to be someone’s girl. 

“Alright, I got a couple of songs for you guys, but I need all of you up and shaking some emo ass with me, got it?!” You can’t deny Macy knows how to work a crowd. She gets people to migrate to the dance floor, and Eddie offers his hand out. “Can I have this dance?”

“Um,” You hesitate to take his outstretched palm. “What about Macy?” You point lamely to where Macy is killing her cover of Fall Out Boy’s XO.

“What about her? It’s a dance, Bee. I’m not, like, asking you to sleep with me or some shit.” Eddie frowns at you, like you’ve offended him.

He does have a point, though. One dance won’t kill you. You accept his gesture, taking his own massive hand in yours, and hope to god he can’t tell that yours is sweating. He leads you to the dance floor, waving to Macy from the crowd as he does. There’s a burn in your stomach when she blows him a kiss, and he pretends to catch it in his mouth. You’re close to bailing when Eddie turns his attention back to you, clearing his throat.

You stare back at him, eyes wide with fear that he’s going to bail, and you prepare to tuck your tail between your legs and call Robin. Instead, Eddie takes your hand again, and yanks you into his embrace. You bump into his chest, but he recovers the fumble by holding you there, free arm resting hesitantly on your waist. You’re frozen, having no clue where to put your hands, so Eddie takes the lead. He drops the hand he’s holding on his shoulder, and moves your other to meet it on the other side. He then rests both his hands on your hips, giving you enough space between his body and yours to breathe, but barely.

The song continues, melodramatic and overtly horny. That, combined with the warmth of the drink in your veins, plus the closeness of Eddie, makes you feel almost good. It’s difficult not to overthink, though, having him in your personal space, your bodies pressed together on a very hot, crowded dance floor, moving in ways you definitely wouldn't have done three hours ago.

“So,” Eddie muses, looking anywhere but at you as he speaks, but still able to move in sync with you. “How’s your day goin’?”

You snicker at his poor attempt at conversation. “Well, I got stood up, and now I’m dancing with who I would have bet this morning wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. All things considered, I think it’s going pretty horribly!” 

The ice seems to crack as you speak, Eddie visibly relaxing as you sway to the music. “Okay, that’s fair. Are you pleasantly surprised?”

You look up at him, but his eyes are locked over your head, staring where Macy stands onstage, swaying with a few friends in front of the DJ booth. You shrug. “Jury’s still out.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes at you. After what feels like an eternity, the song ends and Macy queues another rock anthem to get the crowd moving again. You’re unmoving as Eddie unwraps himself from you. “We should do this again sometime.” He states, unreadable.

“What, dance?”

“Sure, or just, y'know, hang out. Be civil for once. It’s been awhile.”

You roll your eyes. “You know this can’t be, like, a normal thing. It bruises our reputation as sworn enemies.” A feeble attempt to make it a joke, though you know in your heart you can’t be friends with Eddie. The earth would cave in on itself. 

Eddie chuckles. “Whatever you say, Bee. See ya ‘round.” And he leaves you alone, disappearing into the crowd.

–

It’s 11:30 when your phone buzzes. You’re four drinks deep, stirring another dirty shirley at the bar, observing the people around you having fun.

Scotty A: Hey! Totally meant to text you. Got stuck at work.

An avalanche of thoughts rumbles through you, most of them not safe for work. You don’t even know how to respond. There’s no apology, no groveling for your forgiveness, not a hint of actual, real regret. Like you don’t matter. It exhausts you to even think of what that date would’ve been like had he shown up. You type your response between gulps of liquid courage.

“Are you fucking serious?”

The "..." bubble appears, but quickly vanishes. You gape at your phone, wishing you were home so you could let out the blood curdling scream building in your chest. The anger vibrating through you needs an escape, so you lurch from your seat at the bar, rushing quickly out of the club. Eddie whips his head around as you pass him. You think you hear him call your name, but your eyes have started stinging and he’s the last person you want to see you cry.

The night air hits you hard, bringing separate tears to your eyes. Following your therapist’s advice, you start a box breathing exercise. Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. 

“Hey,” The voice startles you into a hiccup. “You okay?” Eddie has made his way outside after you, leaning against the wall. “Saw you dash outta there like something caught fire. Got worried.” He says it nonchalantly, and it takes you aback. Instead of responding, you flip your phone screen towards him. His eyes scan the page before they focus back on you, shaking his head. “That is so fucked up.”

Your voice breaks with your next question. “Did you know this was gonna happen? Scotty’s your friend.”

Eddie’s face drops into a grimace. “How would I have known? Why would I have told him to hit you up if I knew this was gonna happen?” 

It frustrates you how reasonable he’s being. You want someone to yell at, someone to blame, and Eddie just so happens to be the closest target. “I don’t know! Maybe you did it as revenge, or something equally as immature. Maybe you wanted me to feel the same way you did when–”

He interrupts, shaking his head feverishly. “I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. Even you.” The words are a knife to your chest. You don’t like remembering what you did to Eddie that night, but it’s your fault for bringing it up. “I told Scotty to ask you out because he said he liked you. Crazy concept, I know, but i suggest you stop thinking everyone’s out to get you. I thought it would be fun, hanging out with you and him. I’m sorry it didn’t go how you planned, but blaming me isn’t fucking fair, Bee.”

He’s right, but you can’t bring yourself to back down. “It’s not fair to take someone’s brother away for six years, but you had no problem doing that.”

“Fuck you, Bee. Seriously.” He spits the words before turning on his heel, and heading inside. You are once again left alone, outside, in the cold.

–

[crownedleiurus]

Got me countin' the days 'til my next vacation now. I can't wait to get away.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1])

Lilia is bickering with Jen in episode 7. she turns around and SEES ALICE, WHO WAS KILLED IN EPISODE 5

alice, don't try to save agatha! but she's whisked ever further back to episode 2 before she can finish the sentence. imagine having the power of communicating with the past but it's never enough to warn them. seeing the dead and talking to them, knowing what's going to come next. and you wonder why she chose exile and solitude.

meanwhile agatha has collected her wits long enough to decide what her short term strategy with rio is gonna be: keep her distracted, isolate her from the others, keep her away from billy. see how she takes a moment to focus and get into character? she knows rio is about to follow her like a moth to a flame

just going on a trip with my best gal pals and a random teen boy, nothing to see here!!!! and agatha knows that rio knows that she's lying. hello, rio is PERFECTLY aware that there's no Road out there capable of magicking her into a glam rock sex den. but maybe, just maybe, agatha can keep her focused on something else. honestly it would be such a waste to not put all that combined cleavage to good use!

there she was, having a chat with sharon down in the dirt, and you guys went and dragged her up. like perfect morons. I love how she brought the flower along and it ends up working really well with the outfit

oh, rio knows. she knows everything.

and agatha SHOOTS UP and GETS TOO CLOSE and FLIRTS. oh my god this bitch. just like she did in episode 1, except now she's more collected and ever more deliberate. flirting is her best weapon of mass distraction against rio. because look, rio might know all her tricks but she's only (very marginally) human! who can blame her if she lets herself be seduced a little bit, just a little bit! for old times' sake! in rio's defense her wife is very hot and she misses her very much, your honor

rio is like, bitch I got you allllll figure out but also lemme gently caress your thigh. to enhance your acting performance. what's a little supportive yes, and between exes

she's sooo hamming it up. compare her face here with the genuine yearning at the end of the episode

oh this is hilarious. the others hear rio's flirting over the PA and panic, but no, girls, enthusing about murder is legit how they talk dirty!! (lol at lilia being like, right in front of my salad???)

"gasp!!!! that's my coVEN you're talking abOUT!!!! I'm not that kiND OF wiTCH anYMOWRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" the ham! the ham! she might just bring the whole deli cart over at this point

and rio with her lil delighted laugh again. she doesn't get mad for one second, she didn't expect anything else. oh agatha, you silly goose, you're so damaged and so cute

let's recap what this fucker achieved with her latest performance, because it's always fascinating to study what's going on in agatha's ferociously scheming brain. she 1) distracted rio from billy. or at least tried to. 2) hinted at Rio's true nature to the others - who knows, maybe she can manipulate them into allying against her later on? 3) pretended to flirt but also flirted a lil bit forreal because there was a lot of skin showing and the flesh is weak etc etc 4) backpedaled alllllllll the way out when things got too intimate because she's too scared and resentful to get close to rio again. playing with fire as usual. or, as the kids say today, fucking around, about to find out

alice's trial has the best aesthetic fr fr. the 70s font!

I'm not 100% sure bcs it goes by so quickly but I think rio is dancing to the cursed music???

not the turntable!! that shit's vintage!!!!!!!

*brian de palma zoom*

*dramatic pause*

WE'VE BEEN CURSED (I love you patti lupone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

INJECT THIS AESTHETIC DIRECTLY INTO MY VEINS. also alice is red, billy and agatha are blue with purple undertones. the colors in this trial seem very deliberate

"she's a tourist." "she's a PSYCHO." look she never gets to just hang out and do fun things anymore, let her be!!

rio and lilia having a little staring contest as she plays with the knife. doing their own cute archnemeses thing

agatha shaking her head at billy and going shhh when he says 'maybe this curse isn't so bad.' like KID will you stop speaking HORRORS into existence?!?

alice standing with her back straight for the first time since like, ever? or since her mom died? did everyone in the family have their own personal demon or did it switch after killing the previous person? or wait, wait, was the curse only like, a metaphor until billy accidentally turned it into a disgusting 1970s animatronic harpy??

I'm convinced rio could see the demon from the beginning. look at her face here, she's the only one who sees both lilia burning and what's causing it

poor lilia must be thinking, burning witches? soooo original and not traumatic at all (lol at patti being a pro at screaming and writhing in pain on the floor. PROFESSIONAL ACTING)

no no no that's the reaping knife careful careful careful careful

alice's spell: expelle hoc malum, expel this evil. (rio when agatha tries it on her later: WHO ARE YOU CALLING EVIL)

lol. lmao, even. (just don't think about how jen has grown seLFISH TO SURVIVE AFTER HAVING TO LIVE POWERLESS AND DEFENSELESS FOR A CENTURY AND HOW SHE BECOMES MORE AND MORE GENEROUS AS SHE SPENDS TIME WITH ALICE AND LILIA)

oh noes my character just had a beast's giant talons perched on her shoulders i should flash the twins real quick so you can see it better

everyone else: EXTREME PANICKING

rio: stops reading her magazine to glance at the disgusting invisible harpy flapping around the room. goes back to the magazine.

and with this I'm off to my extreme friday night (tea and blankie and a book). ciao!

go to episode 4 part 4

[prairleedog]

DEADPOOL TICKLECANNONS :D

this fucker oh god

❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️

Ler :

— quite evil actually; goes the full five miles when doing anything tickle related

— babytalk. Enough babytalk to kill a family of five ( and Logan )

— predominantly lerring logan ( they're roommates what do you expect )

— he def laughs with the lee, not in a mocking way but in like a playful silly way :3

— big fan of doing the wiggly finger thing

— also a big fan of doing that thing where you have your fingers over one spot but at the last second move them to another one ( he's evil, trust )

— makes up those silly stories while he's just being the biggest asshole ever to the unfortunate lee

— teases the lee about EVERYTHING EVER. Cute laugh? Getting teased over it. Silly smile? Teased over it. REACTION TO THE TICKLES?? teased over that too.

❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️-❣️

Lee :

— golly gosh and gee he absolutely cannot take what he dishes out

— when he knows he's about to get his shit wrecked, he'll just point and scream, hoping to distract the ler and make a run for it

“ LOOK!! A FOREST FIRE!! DOJA CAT!!! A TORNADO!! FIVE HUNDRED CATS!!! ”

— it only ever worked once, and he still got his shit wrecked

— the type to kick his legs and giggle + continue to be a smartass while he's getting wrecked ( it never works well for him ).

— I don't make the rules here, he definitely squeals. You get anywhere around his hip? He's screaming like his life depends on it. ( It probably does )

— puts up the biggest fight known to man and doesn't apologise if he “ accidentally ” kicks you in the face.

— becomes world's biggest puddle the second it is over ( it takes out all the energy ).

THATS ALL I CAN THINNK OF THEY ARENT AS GOOD AS LOGAN'S BUT I'LL ADD MORE ON WHEN I THINK OF THEM NSJDBSJDHSHD SORRY ITS SO BAD

@just-a-fluffy-knight

[qcomicsy]

Choose violence: 1. the character everyone gets wrong

Wade Wilson. Harley Quinn. Tim Drake. Dick Grayson.

I could go more but each one for each particular reasons.

The problem with comic book fandom is that eventually people will be attracted by the vibe. And there's nothing wrong with that most of the time the vibe is good.

Unfortunately it does involve people affirming things without being absolutely sure and myself was also guilty of that a while ago.

Yet, I do not think we should bash these people or act purposely towards them, the comic media is big. There are 80 years of history regarding some characters (Dick for example) and others (the newest ones like Harley, Tim, Deadpool) around 30 years +. That's a lot.

And I am not even pointing out the fact that how different writers will have different takes and different approaches to each character, because each history regarding them will have a particular theme and unfortunately comics suffer from what I call "playing doll house" effect where the writer wants to make a concept he finds very amusing or interesting and most of the time they will be willing to bend character each way their like to serve that.

As a newbie in comics the possibility of getting characters wrong, getting overwhelmed and taking early comics where the version of those characters is fucked up already, wanting to give up even before start is absolutely understandable and possible.

It is overwhelming, it is easy to get it wrong, it is even expected to get wrong because most of this characters have been suffering some kind of flandarization coming from the comics itself.

That being said.

Jesus Christ how those this poor fuckers are misunderstood.

Since I do not read much comics from Tim Drake I won't be speaking much about him, I also won't be speaking much about Dick because I am getting around reading his old series now.

The problem with characters like Wade, Dick and Harley is that the three of them are multifaceted people. Writing characters and understanding characters who are multifaceted is hard.

I, for a long time believed that their more silly moments the jokes and easy going persona where facades a thing that they use as a coping mechanism a thing that it's not the real them. Now I am not so sure.

Yes I do agree a lot of people summarize them as either this ray of sunshine without real feelings and in Wade's and Harleys case a crazy person that has no logical thought process.

The thing is that all of them can be funny and thoughtful. Can have the habilidades of cracking jokes both because they feel like but also to distract an enemy.

Dick Grayson can be a very thoughtful and kind person and cat like an asshole when he's in a bad mood and willingly be mean with people he cares about.

It all boils down to one thing that I have been thinking a lot lately. Comics are one of the few medias where you can have all the liberties to make multifaceted people, people who make mistakes and have a long time to make up for it. To fall on old ways to evolve, devolve, you can express and explore them in each way it relates to the character history and the people who love them.

And I find it such a shame that it's literally the characters who are the most written in that way the ones who suffer the "only character trait ever" syndrome.

[daryldixonsdoormat]

idk if ur still writing Outsider fics but if you do, i would DIE, i mean die begging on my knees for HCs of ur favs (Two, Darry + Steve and soda if your willing) of the reader flashing them during an argument idk why its so funny but man i think its hilarious and the boys’ reaction would be so funny

OMFG YESSSSS, I LOVE THIS. I'm doing the 'adults'. Which would be Darry, Twobit, Sodapop, and Steve. also mini stroy for each and headcannons because ive been so absent.

Warnings: implied sexual themes, steamy situations (nothing crazy)

Darry ( the actual love of my life).

~ “You dont ever think” he cuts in with a tired sigh, attempting to not raise his voice. “Darry, you gotta be fucking kidding me, I think more than anybody in this house there is no way your saying that to me”. “I am and I mean it, you need to be more careful and stop worrying–” you interrupt him quickly stepping closer to him and sticking as finger up. “Darrel Curtis don’t you raise your voice at me like im one of your siblings”. Darry groans loudly throwing his hands up obviously not letting this silly argument go easily. “I just wish you would—” you lift your shirt up flashing Darry silencing him immediately. Darry walks over to you his calloused hands sitting on your waist, “Darling this conversation isn’t over even when you try and distract me” he looks at you smugly with his eyebrows raised. You reply with the same smugness bringing a hand to the back of his neck to pull him inevitability closer, “worth a shot though”.

~ definitely doesn't let arguments go easily , but he definitely loves that mini distraction and some stress relief (ifykyk).

Steve Randle (Goofy ass mf)

“Steve I don’t know why this is a big deal to you honey” you say in a calm and settle voice trying to calm him down. To your dismay he is still not happy about the situation at all, “No you can’t just throw stuff out like that, what if I still wanted it? Then what?”. You rub your hands down your face unamused by his ridiculous behavior, “Steve that shit has been sitting out for days now, I would’nt of let you eat it anyways”. Steve starts pacing back and forth in the kitchen thinking of something to say to “win”, then a new idea comes to mind which will end this banter once and for all. “Are you still mad Steve?”, he turns around abruptly “of course im still mad—”. Your shirt is lifted up giving Steve a good view for a few more seconds before you drop the fabric down, “how about now?”. Steves lips are parted still looking in the same direction where your breasts were once on full display, he glances up, “what you say baby?”. “Come here Steve”, Steve walks over his hands grabbing your face about to kiss your lips, “I’ll make you more ok?”. Steve pecks your lips a few times before replying, “Ok baby”.

~ he will probably purposely start arguments so you can flash him more often, obviously you'll catch on and ignore his attempts.

Dallas Winston (mama im in love with a criminal)

Dally pulled you into his room at Buck’s obviously pissed over a encounter downstairs. “Why the fuck didn’t you call me over, I could’ve easily handled that fucker” he says holding onto your wrist you guys nearly face to face. You pull back from him forcing him to release the grip he had on you, “He was just having  a conversation with me Dallas. Whats your problem?”. Dally runs his fingers through his hair while backing up instinctively, “ That motherfucker was practically undressing you with his eyes. Let me see him even glance at you again I swear y/n”. Dally turns around and slams his hands on his dresser with his head down. Your fed up, Dally is fed up why not end this right now, you walk up behind him and tap his shoulder. “What?” he says still not looking at you, quickly you throw off your shirt as well as your bra, “Dally can you look at me baby?”. Dally sighs but complies none-the-less, a smirk graces his face beautifully as his hands make contact with your chest. “Trying to cheer me up doll?” you kiss him deeply making Dally stumble back a little. “Im always yours Dally not some random guy”.

~ poor thing is always so jealous and protective over his girl.

Sodapop Curtis ( I want to be that towel)

You canceled plans on Soda, work asked you to stay late, the more hours the better especially because some of that money is going toward Sodas family. You walk into the empty Curtis house where only the shower is running, Sodas clothes are laid on the couch. You sigh and drop your bag down, taking off your shoes and getting into comfier clothes. The water stops running, you walk over to the door and knock on it softly, “Soda? Can I talk to you honey?”. The bathroom door opens showcasing Soda with just a towel wrapped around his waist, “Sure hopefully you wont cancel our conversation next”. He walks past you and into his room rifling through his drawers for socks and a pair of boxers, you tread behind him leaning on the door frame. “I took the extra hours so I could help you and your family” Soda groans because he knows he shouldnt be upset over it. “I know but I can still be disappointed, we havent been able to be alone for weeks now”. You smile lifting your shirt over your head about to ask him to turn around, “Come on Soda can you at least look at me?” you say walking up closer to him. Soda turns around sighing, his eyes widens and he stutters over his words a little at the surprise, “Baby, you look..gorgeous”. Soda hold you by the sides and smiles, “Wanna spend some alone time with me y/n?”.

~Sodapop definitely values quality time

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐋𝐲𝐜𝐮𝐬

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: For those who are dangerously curious and greed for their appearance.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // SMUT/NSFW.

|°𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬°| |°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| • {𝐋𝐲𝐜𝐮𝐬}

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐋𝐲𝐜𝐮𝐬

Another creature of distraction and power. Unlike the more… decorative one, this one loves to get in your way for a certain about of time. Loves messing with diver gear and the mechanics of boats in a way for you to get very frustrated. It’s how some vessels and humans drown however, becoming too angry at the creature will gift you slow, suffocating death. It is highly advised to amuse it until back on land for your survival. Also advised one shouldn’t become attached to the creature as it has been seen to be rather dangerous to hang around, and its nest proves it.

This hunky creature has slate gray scales for its main color while it has a bright red lateral line. It’s floppy-like pelvic, anal and dorsal fins fading to a white at the tips, and a white biconcave tail for unnatural power.

𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

Already, loves to get in your way. Lives to become the object in your hands, replacing it with himself so he can coo up at you despite him being way bigger than you. It’s cute for a moment until you actually need to get stuff done.

Have a favorite place to be or a rock? He’ll be there waiting for you or replace that rock with himself, there is no in between. You’re going to have him in your way whether you like it or not. He just wants your attention! You’re the only one that gave him the most of it!

Would absolutely lay on top of you to make sure you can’t go anywhere without him. You’ll have to take him with you everywhere you go. There is no in between that either. You’re getting the weight of him in your shoulders.

Don’t want him around? Fine >:( he’ll just huff and pout at you until you give in, and suddenly he’s all happy again. Though, if you do need your space he’ll give you… some. You’ll get a surprising 3-5 hour break at most. You’re not leaving him without a goodbye.

Doesn’t want you to leave all the time. Doesn’t like it. He gets all huffy and sad and will stay right where you left him at the shore, waiting for you. Nuzzles you tightly when you do come back and relaxes with you, feeling… whole again. Merman is literally the definition of a puppy, but just in water.

𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

Is a little intense fucker. Loves seeing your face all blissed out with your mouth open producing such breathless and lewd sounds for him. He can’t help but kiss you silly and increase his pace of mating you and squeezing at every little skin shown to him.

Lives to eat you out first. To feel you squirm just because of his tongue lapping at your folds. To get a taste of your arousal and have it stained on his chin. You can’t move once he has you in this state. Once he has his meal? He’s eating it.

Ties you up at his mercy. It makes him feel a certain way when you can’t move away from him. That you can only take what he gives you. That you can’t go up on land and leave him once again. Yeah, there might be more to that than there is.

Does get… possessive; jealous. Would be quick to have you underneath him and take his cock like a good mate you are. How you whine underneath him and beg at him for more. Have you slob that your his and that you won’t leave him for a human.

Absolutely does put you in a tight mating press with his canines latched onto your shoulder, slobbering all over it while you claw at his sides and back at the intensity of him trying to breed you. He won’t stop until he cums which honestly might be a long time because he prolongs his climax until he’s weak and can’t hold it anymore.

[ego-meliorem-esse]

dude but the whole face family is a mess of mental disorders and shit. At least if you want to nitpick. Australia and Murica are both ADHD, Canada a depressive lil shit, England is autistic and france bipolar as fuck. I'm still figuring out new Zealand so I can make bingo!

What happened to hi hello how are you 🥲

Im fucking kidding lets go

I have many thoughts on this topic. I just wanna say first that i dont really want to talk about specifically what mental disorder or whatnot each of these characters have. I have my personal hc that i keep private just cus ive strayed so far from canon or even the classic hetalia 2014 country stereotyping. They are my blorbos in the purset sense of the word. So, i feel like if i told you “yeahh murica is adhd on legs” i think it would come across as insensitive.

But on the other hand, in the past 2 years that ive been in group therapy on and off, i have come to be comfortable with talking about mental disorders and dont find it as triggering or offensive as i know some people do. Which is also very valid. People deal with things the best they can and when youre in the trenches of ocd, having a weirdo (me ✊😎) say a fictional character is going through it, it might not sit right. So i wanna keep this as non triggering as possible.

As almost everything i hc, this is something I’ve looked over. And i do agree to a point. Alfred is definitely someone who exhibits traits like excessive talking, impulsiveness, interrupting conversations, difficulty focusing at something that he finds little interest in etc etc. He is easily distracted and tends to find certain people boring. But he also does not have time management skills and he does not forget tasks and plans. Could this be adhd? Sure. Does it have to be? Of course not. So i tend to leave it up in the air. Some people might find comfort in interpreting it as adhd and some would rather stay clear. Both viewpoints equally valid.

I truly dont know about Jack or Arthur. Eleanor too. Honestly i dont really try to make up disorders for them. One thing i dislike is the labeling. If someone, even a silly character, does show traits of some disorder, id rather not have it outright mentioned. It can be cristal clear that Matt has a full on depressive episode, but let me figure that one out myself, chief. I am all in favour of making these fuckers complex and give them shit to shovel, but the moment we start throwing mental disorder labels around, i think the focus strays. But again, only my preference. To someone else, its a comfort.

However, as he is my knight of the highest order, my highest ranking babygirl, my worst punching bag: Matt is depressed as shit. He functions but, God, at what cost?

Does he have depression? Probably. Will i ever make a serious post about his depression specifically? Probably not.

Francois though. He has no disorders, no hardships or difficulties. Makes it easier for me to actively and effectively hate. We are currently negotiating a stalemate, as ive, just today, heard Sous le ciel de Paris after forgetting that song existed. Good fucking song tho. Willing to negotiate the terms of Francois’ surrender.

[yowyowyaoi]

*Deidara walks into Sasori’s lab*

Deidara: Danna … you’ve been in here all day, hm. Since we didn’t have any missions, I thought we could have spent some time together …

Sasori: Mm, you’re right. Just give me five more minutes.

Deidara: Five more minutes? It’s eleven at night, Sasori! The day is over!

Sasori: *looks at the clock on the wall* Really? Goodness, I certainly got distracted with these new puppets. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, okay?

Deidara: *sighs* Alright. It’s just … it’s just that today was …

Sasori: … Valentine’s Day?

Deidara, surprised: W-what? You mean you knew that??

Sasori: I did. It’s just … I think I panicked a little, Dei.

Deidara: Panicked? Why?

Sasori: *takes Deidara’s hands* Because, I know how some people put so much importance on this day. And I was worried, because I could not think of a present that I felt would be equal to what you mean to me. *hangs his head* I’m sorry.

Deidara: Danna … do you not know me at all? I don’t care about some stupid present, hm. All I want, all I ever want, is to spend time with you!

Sasori: *hugs Deidara* I’m glad, and tomorrow I’ll plan out the perfect day for us. But in the meantime … *reaches under his workbench and pulls out a box wrapped with pink paper and tied with a red bow* I got you “some stupid present” anyway.

Deidara: *chuckles and takes the gift, beginning to unwrap it* You’re such a silly man, you know that? You — 

Deidara: W-what the hell — ?

Sasori: Do you like it?

Deidara: Is … is that a …

Sasori: *takes the object in his palm* Mm, a heart. I’m afraid I removed my own heart long ago, but I hope you appreciate the symbolism of the gesture …

Deidara: W-where did you get a human heart??

Sasori: Well …

*meanwhile, in Kakuzu’s room*

Kakuzu, sitting up in bed: Goodness … I don’t think I’ve ever slept so deep before. It almost feels as though I was drugged …

Hidan, grumpily: It’s midnight, fucker. Sleep some more.

Kakuzu: Oi … *notices a newly stitched scar on his chest* What in the —

Hidan, turning on his side: Puppet-dick came in here yesterday and cut ya open, took one of yer extra hearts.

Kakuzu: AND YOU LET HIM?!

Hidan: He said you were fine with it! How am I supposed to know what you weirdos like to do with your damn scalpels?!

Kakuzu:

[thenixkat]

I've seen good chemistry between Ted Kord/Blue Beetle 2 and Vic Sage/The Question. They had fun on their team-ups, they respect each other (even if Vic gets a little annoyed with Ted b/c his chatting while people are trying to kill them is distracting and Ted gets annoyed with Vic's navel-gazing weirdness when he's trying to get an answer about shit), they give a shit about each other. They're a bit silly

(just alone that Vic would encourage Ted to fucking retire for a bit a figure himself out is sooooo much better than Booster and Fire begging Ted to stay actively heroing when the shit is fucking him up. The former shows actual care for the other person while the later shows a lack of concern and a more selfish mindset)

And Ted Kord was absolutely vibing with his ya know actual best friend Murray Takamoto, who should be brought back. Fucking plot points left dangling at the end of the Blue Beetle 1986 run irk me. They had a good time! They have history! They had scientist to scientist goofball energy.

Ted Kord and Barbra Gordon/Oracle? I have some beef with their friendship but they do have fucking chemistry. (B4 Countdown to Infinite Crisis decided to shit on their relationship and 'nice guy'-ify it)

Those friendships for Ted I believe! I've seen evidence and the stories were mostly ok to good.

But what have I gotten for the Ted Kord/Booster Gold friendship thus far? A contrived mess that had to get rid of or forget Ted's other relationships for the story to work. Several years on literally only them in name and appearance just being wildly out of character and saying they're friends. A story that is not real in-universe but it became a meme so it must mean something, apparently.

And man pain even tho time fuckery is ok when the writers say it is (ie how Crisis on Infinite Earths got resolved) and not when they don't want it to so why should I care? Why should I care about Booster trying his damndest to bring Ted back when the writers don't want to bring him back and I can spot several fucking holes in the 'not able to save the fucker' thing. So many holes. There are nontime travel solutions to these problems, and even then you could use time travel just use it smarter. Good fucking lords.

[emoelmoisgay]

Hey @maratheforestfrog and @onyxmustdie idk if you remember but I told ygs I named characters in my book after you and I've finally written first scene w/ ygs in it. I apologize that my writing is shit (I'm so nervous tagging onyx this feels like tagging famous writer or smth).

"Hello! I'm Mara, welcome to where you'll be for the rest of internity! I'm the god of Sapphic love. You're probably wondering 'why is the god of Sapphic love welcoming all the new gods?' Well, actually its because I keep getting in trouble but not enough to revoke my god-ness, so this is punishment. But actually I don't know why it's a punishment, because I enjoy this very much, it's always nice to meet new people. Probably they just needed this job to be filled up by someone." Smiles Mara. "... Onyx. Onyx! Introduce yourself." They yell."

"Onyx. He/they. God of cats. Not a hundred percent sure why I'm following Mara around but, uh, here we are I guess."

"Because you're my best friend, silly!"

"... Alright." He shrugs.

Onyx walks a few feet in front of Mara and the new god, presumably to guide them, but if the events of the past few days have proven anything, it's that nothing is predictable.

"So!" Exclaims Mara, turning her attention to Azalea, "What are you the god of?"

"Disease." They say.

"Really? I was sure we already had a god of disease. What was his name again?" Mara seemed so lost in thought about this god. The knife in Z's bag was burning its way into their skin, making itself known. It seemed as if the knife was screaming.

"Hm. Your name is Azalea, right?"

Z nodded. "You can call me Z, or Zeze, or Lea, or Leo also."

"So Zeze, any gods you'd like to see? What do you like? We can see what controls it!"

Z thought about this. They liked cats, but Onyx was right there. They hit their head. Stop blanking, you fucking idiot!

"Good omens?" They asked. It was the only thing they could think of. Good omens really needed to stop infecting Ger- I mean, Azalea's mind.

"HEY ONYX YOU FUCKER" Mara screamed.

"STOP CURSING THIS IS A FUCKING HOLY PLACE WE ARE FUCKING PURE HERE DUMBASS" Onyx screamed back. The gods seemed to enjoy screaming.

"IS THERE A GOD OF GOOD OMENS UP HERE?" Yelled Mara. Christ, these motherfuckers really like yelling.

"NO? MARA PLEASE DONT TELL ME YOU KILLED NEIL GAIMAN AND NOW HE'S UP HERE TOO."

"I HAVE CONTROL OVER SAPPHIC LOVE, NOT AUTHORS."

"NEIL GAIMAN ISN'T A LESBIAN?!?!"

This was so unsettling for Mara that she fell backwards and finally decided to stop yelling and walk towards Onyx.

"Onyx." Said Mara. She was so serious that it felt more like a police investigation then a conversation between two best friends. The fact that Mara towered over Onyx made it even more interagation-y.

"THAT'S WHAT TOM TOLD ME!" Shouted Onyx. If this was a police investigation, it would be over very quickly.

"Oh! That gives me an idea!" If this were a investigation, Mara would probably not be a great detective, as she had gotten distracted very easily.

And so, Azalea, Onyx, and Mara set out to find Tom.

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Late Night: Murph Connors x gn!reader

Warnings: age gap, little angsty not too much

A/N: Came up with this 15 minutes ago so now it’s written and yeah. I needed something where the reader doesn’t outright react negatively but their s/o still feels bad

BvH Character Masterlist

Little taggies: @visceravalentines @bosinclairz @blurrymango

It’s around 4 in the morning when Murph is making his way up to your shared apartment.

It had been a long tedious day to say the least and he really wanted to get home a lot sooner than later. Unfortunately the guys remembered it was in fact his birthday and shot after shot after shot came as the night went on and when he finally thought he had an out and texted you he’d be back, another round of shots came and he got distracted.

Murph felt like shit and all he wanted was to spend his birthday with you and he didn’t even get to do that.

Murph punches in the code to the apartment and the lock clicks, he enters and takes off his cap, then toes off his shoes. When he finally makes sense of his surroundings he notices the TV is on and so is the living room light.

He sighs and smiles at how forgetful you are but the thought is forgotten when he sees your sleeping form on the couch.

His heart almost breaks seeing you on the couch. You were probably waiting for him.

Murph sits on the edge and nudges you awake.

“Baby… hey.. baby…” Murph says gently. Your body stirs and you squint looking around then spotting your boyfriend smiling almost sadly at you.

“Hi Murphy.” Your voice sounds groggy, you rub your eyes and sit up. “Did you have fun?” You smile tiredly and rub your eyes again to fully focus on your boyfriend.

“Yea.” Murph replies, it’s simple and short. Your grin widens.

“That’s good. I made you a cake and we gotta open your presents okay?” You start to get up, Murph tries to grab you.

“Baby, we don’t have to it’s late. I just wanted to say goodnight and make sure you got to bed.”

You shake your head and leave the room for a second, returning with a couple of presents, then you walk over to the kitchen and grab the cake from the fridge, get a candle and your lighter and walk back over, setting the cake on the table and plopping the candle right in the middle.

“Can’t sing happy birthday cause it’s past it but it’s okay you’ll still be able to make your wish.” You say, lighting the candle.

Murph chuckles lightly at the silly superstition you had. He bends down and thinks, then blows out the candle.

The presents are slid over to him, he takes the bag and pulls out the tissue paper, then a flannel and crew neck.

“Thank you.” Murph gives you a side hug and continues pulling out his gifts, a pair of pants and jeans are pulled out along with some socks. That was it for the bag, then he opens the envelope, inside is 49 dollars and a cheesy joke card about getting old.

Lastly he opens the gift you wrapped, it’s small but holds a lot of meaning.

It’s a necklace with your birthstone and a ring with his. Murph’s heart picks up pace and he looks at you, you’re smiling sadly at him though and playing with your pajama shorts.

“It’s not stupid is it? The guys won’t make fun of you at work right? Cause I know you spend a lot of time with them and so they’ll notice eventually and I don’t want you getting made fun of.” You say nervously, Murph shakes his head.

“Stupid? I don’t think so. I think it’s cute, who cares what those fuckers think they’re all divorced and shit.” Murph scoffs and nudges you a bit making your smile become real. The Sandy haired man slides on the ring and hands you the necklace so you can put it on him.

When the necklace is clipped on Murph turns around and look at you, he takes your face and kisses you gently, it’s an apology before he actually apologizes.

“I’m sorry about today. I wanted to spend most of my day with you but you know how they get. I don’t want you thinking I care more about them than you. Tomorrow I’m gonna take the whole day off okay?”

“You really don’t have to, I think this was enough-“

“No, it wasn’t. I’ll say when it’s enough baby. Tomorrow we’re gonna go out for a nice breakfast, lunch, and dinner and get free desserts! There’s no other option.” Murph stands you two up, he grabs the cake and puts it back in the fridge, before making his way to the bedroom he shuts off the TV and light.

Stripping off everything but his boxers Murph groans as he finally gets to lay down with his love. His big hands grab you and pull you onto him. You laugh tiredly then start tracing patterns into his chest.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. That shit isn’t gonna happen again. I promise.” Murph’s voice turns tired and raspy. You nod.

“I love you Murphy.”

“I love you more baby.”

“Happy belated birthday.”

[the-church-of-strabismus]

holy shit sometimes I just think about the fact that no one in my fucking life is EVER going to take my anxiety seriously. like holy shit. not my family or my friends or anyone I talk to who knows about it. it's always a "oh that sucks" or a half-assed "cheer up!" or the fucking "get over it."

Like do you fuckers even understand that this is a DISORDER? Do you even fucking realized it was so bad that I got immediately diagnosed with general anxiety disorder + depression so they could medicate me so I wouldn't fucking kill myself? do any of you fuckers understand that this is going to affect every single aspect of my personality and life, for the rest of my life?

This isn't fucking funny. This isn't a something cute or silly or something to fucking laugh at and ignore. Anxiety isn't fucking being a little nervous, it's fucking agony. It's being convinced that everyone hates you. It's being convinced you're going to be murdered or assaulted again or robbed or shot up. It's being so fucking scared that you convince yourself for a month that people are watching your screen through spyware and are going to hate you and kill you if you click on something bad by accident. It's having anxiety holders and hating them for not being able to take the feeling away. It's being convinced every FUCKING night that this is the night that you're going to fucking not wake up.

I fucking hate each and every person that does not treat anxiety as a disorder. I hate you if you treat it as cutesy or something to not take seriously or something to laugh at. I hate you so fucking much.

I hate my fucking GAD. I hate being convinced people hate me or talk behind my back. I hate being convinced that they hate me for my symptoms. I hate knowing that they DO hate my fucking anxiety symptoms. I hate that no one wants to comfort me. I hate that I need so much comfort over and over. I hate that no one will ever realize how bad it is. I hate that nothing can stick to my brain, that I'm always going to be scared five minutes later that they hate me. I hate that an odd tone or bad punctuation or a distraction can genuinely fucking convince me that people want me dead. I hate that my anxiety makes me want myself dead. I hate how I love people so much when they make me feel good but feel so so hurt and broken ten minutes later because they didn't keep going.

I hate this. I hate my life. I hate my fucking disorder. I hate that these disgusting pills are the only thing keeping it at bay. I hate that they barely keep it from getting worse anymore but I can't get off of them because I go through withdrawal.

I hate myself. I hate myself so much. I hate that I've promised so many people to keep myself alive and safe. I hate my brain. I hate it. I hate myself. I hate being alive. I hate me. I hate my promises. I hate everyone who thinks I'm overreacting. I hate myself for wishing it was an overreaction. I hate myself. I want to fucking die. I hate that I want to die. I hate that I can't die. I hate that I'm actively fucking dying. I hate that I promised to get better. I hate that I can't get better.

I hate you I hate me hate hate hate hate HATE HATE I FUCKING HATE YOU I HATE ALL OF YOU I WANT TO FUCKING DIE WHY CAN'T YOU LET ME DIE I HATE YOU HOLY SHIT LET ME DIE LET ME DIE LET ME DIE I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING DIE DON'T LET ME DIE I HATE THIS I HATE YOU

[wynnyfryd]

AO3 first lines

rules: post the first lines of your 10 most recently published AO3 stories. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

a masterpiece of art, it’s true | yogi steve x adhd eddie pt 3, M, 3k

In the three minutes it takes them to get from the couch to Steve’s bedroom, Eddie seems to remember that he’s completely worn out from the combination of whiskey and coming so sweetly all over Steve’s tongue. Steve licks his lips, savors the evidence still lingering in his mouth, and tries not to look too over the moon when Eddie flops back onto his mattress with an exhausted huff.

stupid fucking star stuff | stardust au, M, 3.4k (in progress)

“Munson, stop tongue-fucking my merch displays,” Guy scolds him, shoving Eddie away from the glass he’s been drooling over. His beloved is laid out inside the case, lit up from behind like some fair maiden sleeping in a mystical wood, just waiting for her one true love to come and plant some sick riffs on her gleaming body.

“I’d be so good to you, baby,” Eddie whispers to the guitar, fingertips trailing over the glass lid.

relax (that’s that) | yogi steve x adhd eddie pt 2, E, 2.6k

The bats are choking him. One of the stupid little fuckers has its tail around his throat, and three more curl around his thrashing limbs, sinking their teeth into the soft flesh of his belly, gnawing their way through to the good bits, the muscle and sinew and his fucking intestines and—

“—Eddie!” Steve shouts, shaking his shoulders with his big warm hands

relax (lay back) | yogi steve x adhd eddie pt 1, E, 12k

“Eddie!” Steve calls out playfully as he weaves his way through the rows of mats, surveying the class’s posture. “Get those buns out of the air, come on, now.”

So yeah, becoming weirdly close friends with his former sort-of nemesis turned yoga instructor crush in the wake of surviving unspeakable evils together is, uh…

It’s going horribly.

TITS! magazine | exactly what the title says lmao, E, 11.8k

Now, this is a story all about how

My life got flipped turned upside down

And I'd like to take a minute

Just sit right there

I'll tell you how I came on the tits of a guy with great hair

No Son of Mine | hurt-comfort, M, 4.4k

I seen those boys kissing boys

Open-mouth in the street

But I raised my son to be a righteous man

I made it clear to him what fear of God means

The path we walk is only narrow and straight

No son of mine will wander astray

- Desert, Brand New

Steve shows up at Eddie’s door at 8:46pm.

i’ll stop the world and freeze with you | ice skating drabble, G, 617

Eddie flounders, arms flailing as his feet slip out from under him for the fourth time, and he lands chin first on the scuffed-up ice with a hard thud.

The Great Scavenger Hunt of 1986 | christmas fluff, T, 7.9k

“Steve,” Dustin calls as he skids into the Harrington kitchen on Christmas Eve Eve with his muddy shoes still on.

babysitters and book signings | famous author eddie au, G, 4.4k

Eddie’s not staring. The man currently shepherding a gaggle of college kids up to his booth is tall and blond and tan with wire glasses perched on his freckled nose and biceps that threaten to burst right out of his silly striped polo shirt, and Eddie is a professional who meets thousands of fans at conventions every year and he’s. not. staring.

patience is a virtue | edging pwp, E, 1.7k

Steve’s gonna fucking die. He’s close to planning his funeral arrangements at this point, absently running through a list of florists and pianists he might still know from his church days, desperate for a distraction because—

“Keep your hips still, sweetheart,” Eddie chides, forearm like a crowbar over Steve’s jolting hips as he pins him down again.

thank you for the tag @infinite-orangepeel 💜 tagging @gorgeousgreymatter-x @steddielations @aidaronan and anyone else who wants to play

[gaydennisreynolds]

fuck it we post homoerotic basketball scene. macdennis sexual tension draft, 910 words, just silly self-indulgence

“You’ve got h-o-r,” Mac laughs in between gasps of breath, hands on his knees, grinning up at Dennis like he just invented comedy. “You know, because you’re a–”

“Shut the fuck up, idiot,” Dennis says, but he smiles back despite himself, passing the basketball to Mac with more force than is strictly necessary. It bounces off Mac’s bicep and earns him a string of inventive curses while Mac trots after it, stopping it with his foot and balancing awkwardly on one leg as he tries to grab it before it can roll further away. Dennis snorts at the sight--Mac is such a tryhard fucking loser--and like he can hear inside Dennis' head, Mac shoots him a glare with no real heat behind it. Mac scoops the ball up, flexing his biceps unsubtly, and dribbles it back across the basketball court, eyes squinted the way they do when he gets all laser-focused and intense, and he shoots Dennis a cocksure grin before setting up a shot which he spectacularly misses.

Dennis turns away so that Mac can’t see the laughter shaking through his body at the crestfallen look on Mac’s face. They’re having a good time, which can be hard to come by these days, and Dennis doesn’t want this moment to explode into thrown punches and split lips like it did last time. When he’s composed himself, he accepts the pass Mac offers and makes his shot from the three-point line, not passing up the opportunity to shoot Mac a smarmy smirk and waggle his eyebrows.

“I believe you get an E if you miss, dude,” Dennis says with fake pleasantry, as though he thought Mac needed help keeping score. “How would it reflect on you to lose your fifth game in a row?” he continues, just for the sheet pleasure of watching Mac start to get a little mad. 

"Give it here, fucker," Mac demands, and Dennis complies, biting down hard on the inside of his lip to keep his mouth from twitching up into a smile. Mac sets up his shot, waits, breathes, prays, and misses--the ball flying a mile left of the goal, not even hitting the rim or the square. Dennis whoops. “Fuck,” Mac swears, with feeling, and scampers off after the ball. When he retrieves it, he trots back over to Dennis and gives him an appraising once-over.

“Sunscreen time, dude,” Mac says with conviction. Mac’s own face is turning pink and boyish in the sunshine, and Dennis can feel the heat licking at his shoulderblades; he knows better than to argue this point with Mac, or try to take a moment to gloat over his victory. He doesn’t want his skin to wrinkle under the force of the sun, either, and Mac takes protecting Dennis from sun exposure very seriously. It's easier just to nod an affirmation and walk back over to the bench, presenting Mac with his back.

It’s summer in Philly, hot as all hell, and the midday sun sends rivulets of sweat dripping down both their naked chests. Mac takes a second to wipe Dennis down with his towel – “The sunscreen needs a dry surface to sink into, dude, do you want skin cancer?,” Mac had said, rather aggressively, when Dennis had questioned him on it years ago – and Dennis closes his eyes and doesn’t try to hide how much he enjoys the slow, gentle strokes of the towel over his entire back. It’s like being a little kid again. Who wouldn’t enjoy being taken care of like this? And anyway Mac can’t see his face so it’s a victimless crime. When he hears the snap of the sunscreen lid, he sticks his hand out obediently for Mac to give him enough to cover his chest and arms with. Dennis rubs himself down while Mac starts in on his back.

Mac takes his time, massaging the sunscreen in as much as he can. He spends a considerable amount of time working out the tension in Dennis’ shoulders while covering them in sunblock, and kneading the sunscreen deep into the knot at the base of Dennis’ spine. Dennis slathers his front as well as he can with Mac being so distracting behind him, and when Mac steps back Dennis spins around to have Mac rub in any spots he missed on his chest. Dennis closes his eyes, more to avoid having to look Mac in the eye than anything else, while Mac rubs his pecs gently–to make sure the lotion doesn’t get stuck in Dennis’ chest hair, obviously–and trails his hand down Dennis’ happy trail to check for total absorption. The sun is beating down so hard that Dennis can feel himself flushing red.

When Mac is finished, they look at each other for a moment that crackles with something heavy, and without breaking the eye contact Mac passes Dennis the communal water bottle, their fingers brushing as Dennis reaches out for it. If Mac watches Dennis’ throat work when he swallows, and if Dennis does the same thing when it’s Mac’s turn to suck down some water, well, there wasn’t anyone around to notice.

Mac smiles at him so brightly he puts the sun to shame. “This game is definitely mine,” he declares confidently, waving Dennis off with a dismissive flap of the hand when Dennis mutters, “you say that every time."

Mac misses his shot so badly that the basketball flies clear over the fence surrounding the court and rolls into the street, where someone narrowly avoids running it over.

[dangerous-advantage]

(yagi-no-eda here~)

Totally would circle back /pos. I’m also pretty new to the fandom!

My wife has liked Usagi Yojimbo and associated stuff for years but it’s only this summer that my brain has allowed me to really get into it, and make it past the first 2-3 comics. Not for lack of trying - it was just never the right time in an ADHD way*. Something always would distract me. I’ve inhaled all the comics I can in just the last couple of months and yeah, Stan came at me with a steel chair too. I did not expect …this whole situation. I’ve been a fandom lurker since 1999 and yet suddenly I have blog I use near daily, a sketchbook, and bunch of fic WIPS...

Mainly because I am Unwell over UY.

I have accepted my fate. This is always going to be a Thing now.

Though I did admittedly also inhale TMNT 2003 and Rise.

Travels with Jotaro is one of my favourite volumes, but I’m also weirdly into Bridge of Death rn and just….in general having a moment over Usagi’s time with Mifune. To the point I’m doodling intros for a fake show called The Mifune Years. He had this whole expected future and friends - denied.

* to be fair this is also the summer I found out its def ADHD driving this media analysis machine I call a brain

Hope this was an okay way to get back to you! /lil anxious

Feel free to network (or share thoughts) in my tags anytime, I love hearing what other people think. Also happy to chat anytime. Or feel free to tell me to back off and that's chill too :)

(been waiting to answer this for when i had more time but gave in; should be working on my fic(s) but you know how it is lmao. stay tuned for a very long post, because i love talking about things with people, especially things i like haha

very cool to see another person very passionate about this series! i grew up on 2003 (and the 90's movies-- my parents had the third one on cassette and i remember i wore that fucker out lmao) but it was always more of a "scattered interest" rather than something i was fully pulled into

i started getting into rise (read: The Algorithm came for me) probably mid-July of last year, but didn't fully fall into it until after the movie came out. it renewed my interest in tmnt overall, and i've been here ever since!

i did attempt to watch the usagi chronicles a couple of times, and i remember thinking they were fun but not really my thing. (i definitely want to revisit it, even though i know it won't hold a candle to usagi yojimbo. it does look fun in a silly way, which i can get behind.)

i knew vaguely about how big usagi yojimbo was, and that it was a commitment, but i'm surprised how quickly it sucked me in. i've never been super interested in stuff within the genre, but damn if it doesn't satisfy the autism. entire chapters devoted to infodumping about the edo period of japan? sign me the fuck up!

i especially did not expect how much it would make me feel. like. wow. ouch. usagi is just Some Guy but he is also so well characterized and you really feel for his internal conflict, 10/10.

i've been looking for series with older protagonists, especially those more focused on the familial/platonic aspect rather than romantic (i am just an nd queer on the interweb, can you blame me for yearning for found family?), but hadn't found any i really liked other than the tarot sequence by kd edwards (very good read, would highly recommend.)

also not to be a nerd but ohhhh my god i am so obsessed with the plot with mifune.

like i know the series takes place after that, and after the fallout of that, but just. wow. imagine devoting your entire being to another, to the point where you would readily die for them and their word, and then they die. they die, and you did everything you could to honor them in that death, but they're still gone.

like... that emptiness stays with you. you don't just get over that. maybe it's the "being raised in a cult" but wow, do i empathize with that.

idk if we explore more about the fallout/exact history with mifune/immediately following mifune's death but there is so much writing potential there. if i was not embroiled within turtle hell and 50,000 words deep in a multi-chapter fic already, i would absolutely write something for it.

like. this is adjacent to your interest in the topic, but can you just imagine (/rhetorical /general you.) as far as we know, he spent five days on the battlefield before he made it out to the tangled skein.

(which is one of my favorite additions like good god holy shit. that is so cool and angsty. your lord, days after dying, appears as a fucking ghost and saves you. like, if i were to be silly and funky, i would absolutely headcanon that as the reason that he was able to stand up and continue on. because i mean... what else? what else could motivate you to stand up once more after something like that?)

(well. honor. but mifune is the physical manifestation of honor in the narrative, so same difference? it's like both thematically significant and emotionally significant and-- ok im shutting up now. but i could talk for days, istg.)

but like. how do you reconstruct yourself from that? we see him holding tight to this sense of honor, even after his lord is gone, sent reeling (adrift in the waves) with only his soul and moral compass to hold to.

which makes it hurt so much more when we see these ideals of honor-- this ghost of a man, of a life, still haunting him years after the event-- still woven through the narrative, made to specifically conflict his deepest wants.

i joke about it a lot on my fic discord (i have a whole channel called 'father-material' devoted to just pictures of him hanging out with/taking care of kids), but something that seems very important to him is wanting to be a father figure, and wanting these connections to family and friends.

but that is contrasted against these ideas of honor, the very thing he built and rebuilt his foundation off of after it was torn away from him. and it's just so incredibly painful but also it makes sense, because he can't just give up the side of himself that is a samurai. too much of his person, his characterization, is built off of this.

to see it constantly clash with this want to settle down and finally rest, devote himself to his relationships/family rather than the code of bushido-- the very essence of honor itself-- ourgh ourgh ourgh its so good

(put aside the fact that he once said he could never serve another lord, and we know from the story that the idea of a "lord" can be more than just a person... he never stopped serving mifune, not truly. he still upholds the ideas of honor that mifune stood for/represented. as if his lord never truly left him.)

...i was going to say more, but then i realized this turned into a whole-ass mini-analysis, so i'm forcing myself to stfu. but basically: i have feelings about this series, man (/gender neutral).

anyway. if you ever do put something together, i would love to read/follow it! if i ever wrote something, it would probably be exploring the direct fallout of losing mifune, so hey, different niches but similar (:

also: never be anxious about talking to me ever in any way possible. i will probably be even more annoying than you in tags/asks/everything under the sun, and i do genuinely love talking to people who share my interests (typically about those interests.) i like to pretend i am an internet Cool Guy, however, it is a flimsy veneer to hide all the cringefail swaglessness and unending mental illness about my blorbos

(...i am so tempted to just invite you to my og turtle discord server so i can annoy you about usagi on the regular. also about what my reimagining of yuichi would be, because i have so, so many ideas.

i will refrain, but if you would be interested, it has been kinda dead as of late, so it would be nice to enrich the ecosystem a little by slowly collecting other usagi-interested individuals and slowly taking it over, one by one (/j /lh).)

anyway, same thing goes for me with my posts/asks/reblogs/messages/whatever. i am so very earnest, so if that puts you off, that's very chill and fine. however, as long as you're down to vibe, i am similarly down to vibe >:D

i once more apologize for this monstrosity of a reply. i would say it won't happen again, but my reading comprehension apparently does not extend to the "all things in moderation" maxim. instead i choose maximalism (to the max)

(sorry for that joke. yeah that will also happen again. sorry. /lh /pos)