#anyway this show is great and I’m having a great time

[salty-autistic-writer]

Tommy Kinard's Guide To The Best (And Worst) Places To Take A Nap

Tommy and sleep have always had a difficult relationship. 

When he was a child, he had a hard time relaxing his mind enough to fall asleep. Restless thoughts and the fact that he could also read one more page of this non-fiction book - just one more - kept him tossing and turning until his eyes burned.

As a teenager, he listened to his parents arguing, their shadows dancing in the hallway. When he drank too much, his father’s voice was like the hot sour breath of a dragon, his footsteps booming and his words sharp. 

The neighbours never intervened. They were blind and deaf. Tommy wasn’t. He listened and tried to stay awake as long as possible. At least until the dragon fell asleep. Just in case he had to help his mother. Because there was nobody else.

His time in the military taught him to cherish every possible second of sleep. He developed the talent to fall asleep anywhere, at any time and at remarkable speed. But with this special talent comes the tendency to wake up abruptly as soon as his mind decides it has to be alert.

A noise, even a smell, is enough to push his body out of sleep mode into ready-to-fight mode. That makes sleeping for several hours in a row very difficult. So he usually takes some exhaustion with him when he leaves for work in the morning.

Once he’s working, he has laser focus though, never feeling the missing hours of sleep. No. That only comes later, after the work is done.

His issues made Tommy a napper. And he’s napping a lot.

He’s not picky about where he’s taking his naps. But some places are better than others.

In the helicopter (2/10 - not enough space, leads to pain and embarrassing moment!)

Tommy yawns heartily. He’s working a shift from hell. And he’s tired. So tired that the thought of getting out of the helicopter and dragging himself to the bunk beds at the station fills him with dread. He doesn’t like the beds anyway. It’s never really quiet there. And they are too small. Well. To be fair, most places are too small for him to stretch out his legs.

Finding a comfortable position in the helicopter isn’t easy either. But he has to try. Has to close his eyes. Just … For a few minutes. Then, the alarm is probably going to go off again anyway. He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He can already feel his mind drifting away, and his muscles are finally relaxing. At least, it’s quiet in here.

Is this smart? No. But he’s too tired to make smart choices.

Tommy already knows his neck is going to ache later. But it’s too late.

Sleep embraces him.

L aughter erupts when Tommy opens his eyes and he blinks into the sunlight, confused until his swimming vision clears and he sees Lucy in front of him. Lucy, surrounded by a few other colleagues, taking pictures with her phone and grinning in utter delight. Great. He won't ever hear the end of this.

Gr imacing, he stretches as best as he can, sore muscles burning and bones cracking in protest.

When he jumps out, his legs tingling from being immobile for so long, Lucy shows him a picture of his face pressed against the glass, drool running down to his chin, hair dishevelled. “It’s cute,” she says. “But I’m worrying about your poor old bones, Kinard. If you plan on doing more naps in the chopper, I will buy you a neck pillow.”

At a movie theatre (6/10 - comfy but embarrassing, at least Evan thought it was cute!)

Tommy loves the cinema Evan picked. 

He especially loves the seats. They are so comfy. Soft. Warm. Too soft and warm. Tommy can feel himself sinking into them, his eyes getting heavy. He tries his best to keep them open, telling himself he’s not going to fall asleep while he’s about to watch a movie with his gorgeous boyfriend who’s happily snacking popcorn, his shoulder nudging Tommy’s.

For once, they actually managed to go to the movies. Without any interruption. Without anything terrible happening. So he really should pay attention to the movie. Evan is going to want to talk about it later.

But the screen is too bright. He has to rest his eyes. Just for one little moment. He’s not going to fall asleep. He’s not.

It only takes seconds for him to drift off.

A hand on his shoulder. A kiss on the cheek. Soft laughter and warm breath tickling his skin. “Tommy. Hey, Tommy?”

Tommy hums, keeping his eyes closed. Just a little longer. He can tell it’s not even morning yet. It’s still dark outside. Huh. He wrinkles his nose in confusion. Where’s all the noise coming from? Did Evan turn on the TV?

Oh. Oh. Shit.

His eyes snap open and he winces, his hands rubbing over the slightly rough fabric of cushions, the smell of popcorn and sweet beverages reminding him of where he is right now. He fell asleep at the movie theatre. With Evan sitting beside him.

Tommy can feel his cheeks burning. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, wiping drool from his mouth and glancing at the screen, where a man and a woman are arguing.

“Don’t be. It was really cute. My highlight was when your head started to tilt and sank on my shoulder,” Evan says, smiling. “You also didn’t miss anything. That movie was horrible so far. I’m going to tell you what happened later.”

Tommy’s face still burns with embarrassment, but when Evan wraps his arm around him and pulls him even closer, he starts to feel better. It happens, he guesses. Especially after a long day.

In a dressing room (3/10 - not very comfy, loud, but leads to a good solution for future shopping! It's good to have someone who thinks of things you never really thought of!)

Tommy doesn’t like shopping for clothes. 

It’s not easy to find something that fits him. He also wishes people would just let him look around by himself before bombarding him with a row of questions, constantly asking if he’s doing alright. Why isn’t one “yes thank you” enough?

Once he does find something that fits and doesn’t scratch or feel too tight, he usually just tries to wear it as long as possible. But his favourite jeans tore and now he has to find a new one.

It’s nice to have Evan with him who gives him something to focus on.

“Hm. No. Let me get you that in another size,” Evan decides, looking at the pants Tommy tried on, frowning. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Okay,” Tommy mutters, too exhausted to really care. He sits on the bench in the dressing room and leans back with a sigh. As he waits, the warmth of the dressing room makes him increasingly drowsy. His eyes get heavy. Soon, he can’t keep them open anymore, his head falling forward as he succumbs to a slumber.

Only to jump when Evan opens the door and presents him with a new pair of jeans. “Sorry, took a while to find it. Here, I - Oh. Did you fall asleep?” “No,” Tommy says automatically. Evan raises a doubting brow.

Tommy notices he’s half lying on the bench now, quickly sitting up and wiping at his eyes. “Maybe,” he admits. “I’m tired.”

Tired of dressing and undressing. Tired of the too-bright shop lights which keep buzzing above his head. Tired of hearing the terrible nerve-wracking music in the background. Tired of seeing his tired eyes in the mirror.

Evan scans him, understanding in his eyes. “Hey, let’s just order some of those online, okay? You can try them on at home,” he suggests.

“Really?” Tommy asks, wrinkling his nose. “But what if they don’t fit?”

“We are just going to send them back,” Evan shrugs. “Come on, let’s leave and buy coffee somewhere.”

I love you , Tommy thinks, getting up happily. And wonders how far away he is from actually saying the words out loud. Feels like they are already lingering on his lips, just waiting for the right moment.

At a bookstore (7/10 - comfy, warm and with cat, but embarrassing!)

Of course, they happen to be outside on one of those rare days when it’s raining cats and dogs. All of a sudden, it pours from the velvety sky. 

They flee into a bookstore at a corner, laughing. Evan’s eyes brighten up in delight as he scans the shelves. It’s a tiny store with old hardcover books and narrow hallways. The dust-covered books are piling up everywhere, even on the window sill.

An elderly lady is the only other person in the store. She’s sitting at the counter, hidden by a heap of books. She has one in her wrinkled hands, reading, only briefly glancing up to nod at them and push her glasses up her nose.

There even is a cat. A tabby with a bushy tail, that raises as she approaches Tommy and curls around his leg with a soft meow. When Tommy pets her and looks up, Evan is already gone, looking at books. Tommy discovers a green armchair in a corner and decides to sit down for a while. The armchair is comfy and smells like oranges. Tommy sinks into the cushions, leaning his head back with a content sigh. He can hear the steady drum of the rain against the window panes. It’s making him dozy. Before he can fight the sleepiness, his eyes are already closed and distantly he thinks he can feel something soft, warm and vibrating on his legs, but then sleep reaches for him and pulls him into a quite pleasant nap.

“Tommy?”

“Hm?” Tommy perks up, blinking in confusion. “Is it time?”

“I don’t know. You fell asleep,” Evan says, amused. “And the cat immediately went to sleep on you. I took pictures.”

Tommy swallows, looking at the cat now sitting on the floor, licking its paw. “Sorry,” he says quietly, glancing at the shop owner. But she’s smiling while still reading her book. 

“No need to be sorry. It’s cute. Come on, let’s go home and take a nap together,” Evan chuckles.

In the bathtub (8/10 - warm, safe, clean and good-smelling, especially when Evan washes my hair, but it gets cold eventually!)

Tommy doesn’t know how he’s still standing. The shift seemed to last forever. His whole body is sore and aching. All he’s smelling is sweat and smoke. Every step he takes seems to add invisible extra weight he has to carry around.

“Come on, I’m going to draw you a bath,” Evan tells him.

“I have the best boyfriend in the world,” Tommy sighs, as he slowly, painstakingly peels his clothes off his body.

He hates the moment his naked body is hit by the chill of the air. Hates the first dip into the water. But once he sinks into the water and it embraces him, he groans in pleasure.

“I’m going to wash your hair, okay?” Evan says, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and pushing the sleeves of his hoodie back. “Please,” Tommy sighs, gratefully. He could feel how greasy it got with every passing hour. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, relaxing into the rhythmic movements of Evan’s fingers in his hair. Soon, he feels his mind drifting away, like a boat on the ocean. He allows it. He’s warm and safe. He can rest. Every troublesome thought and every ache disappears. Fading away as he dozes off to Evan washing his hair and the smell of his favourite shampoo.

“Tommy?” Evan asks, shaking Tommy’s shoulder gently. “You with me?”

“Huh?” Tommy opens his eyes, blinking up at the ceiling. He’s still halfway caught in the pleasantly floaty nothingness of his nap. “Hm. What?”

“Sorry, but I thought you might want to eat something,” Evan says. That’s when Tommy realises he’s lying in the bathtub, feeling boneless and … chilly. “How long have I been in here?”

“Long enough. Did you sleep well?” Evan asks, grinning.

Tommy grimaces as a shiver runs down his back and inspects his wrinkled hands. “Well, now I’m cold. But it was worth it.”

On Evan’s lap (10/10 - warm, comfy, safe. the best place to take a nap!)

It’s been a long day. It’s always a long day.

Evan takes one look at Tommy and says, “Want to order Chinese and relax on the couch today?”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Tommy says, grateful. There was a time when he tried to hide his exhaustion and went out anyway to please his partners. But now he’s honest about how he feels and what he wants. He also doesn’t apologise for falling asleep anymore. His work is stressful and functioning can be exhausting. Being tired is nothing he has to be ashamed of.

They end up on the couch, Evan with his laptop and Tommy with his head on Evan’s lap, the rest of his body stretched out. He’s happy he can do that now. They bought a new, bigger and comfier couch a while ago.

Tommy has his eyes closed and relaxes while listening to the clicking noise of Evan typing and breathing in the familiar smell of his surroundings. Warm. Soft. Yes. This is by far his favourite place to take a nap.

He allows himself to drift off. When he comes back to himself, Evan smiles down at him. “Hey. There you are. Sounded like you were snoring the alphabet at one point.”

“Hey,” Tommy scrunches his nose. “Says the man who snores like a boar whenever he’s lying on his back.”

Evan chuckles. He clears his throat, eyes on his screen. “Did you know that neurodivergent people tend to get exhausted pretty fast? Due to the stress of sensory overload and the pressure of social situations. There’s even a word for it.”

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, raising a mildly intrigued brow.

“Yes. Autistic fatigue.”

“Hm.” Tommy shifts, frowning.

They’ve been talking about this topic for a while now. Collecting information. Finding certain things that … fit astonishingly well. It started with Evan talking to his therapist about ADHD and led to Evan going on an extensive research spree on which he found out that quite a few of the things Tommy is experiencing fit symptoms of the autism spectrum and that ADHD and autism have a lot of overlapping symptoms.  Tommy grew up during a time when children weren’t autistic, had ADHD or suffered from dyslexia. There were only two possible labels: “normal” and “weird”. At school, Tommy got the “weird” label pretty fast.

Actually, there’s been a teacher who apparently did some research and carefully addressed the possibility of autism, but Tommy’s father was fast to tell her to refrain from calling his son mentally ill. Tommy thinks the exact words Kinard Senior used were “My boy is not a nutcase.” And that was the end of it.

But now, now that he has the freedom to do research and the chance to figure some things out that have always confused him, Tommy is intrigued. 

It might be nice to know why some things are as they are.

For example: why does he hear noises no one else seems to hear? Why does he feel repulsion towards certain foods to the point that he has the urge to gag or spit them out? Why is he fidgeting so much without really noticing it? Why does he take things literally, which has led to many embarrassing moments in his life? Why does he sometimes feel like he’s following an invisible script while talking to people, and when they don’t do what he expects, the conversations become increasingly stressful? 

Or the “I’m so exhausted” thing that sometimes really hits him out of nowhere, especially when he’s outside.

“Do they also say how you can increase your energy if you experience autistic fatigue?” Tommy asks.

Evan hums. “Snacks. Vitamins. And accomodations. Like noise-cancelling in-ear headphones.”

Tommy perks up. “Noise-cancelling? That’s a thing?” He asks, surprised. He has normal headphones for his training. But they don’t cancel noise.

“Uh, yeah. They have been existing for a while now. Do you want me to order some for you?” Evan asks. “Or we can pick them together?”

“Yes,” Tommy says, fully awake now, sitting up and snuggling up against Evan, looking at the screen. “But I can’t promise I will ever take them out once I have them.”

“Well, you definitely won’t hear me snoring anymore,” Evan says, grinning and typing into the search bar.

(AO3 Link)

[immortalbumblebee]

Mom said it's my turn to request!!so anyway👀I love your writing and so I would really like as in Vander x fem!reader where both of them are Mylo's actual biological parentsand just some fluff around them please💙

So this turned more into a Mylo & Reader fluff comfort fic, I hope that's okay! This prompt got me really excited!

Masterlist

Family Ties

You can’t help the soft "oof" that escapes your lips as you lean against the mattress of Mylo’s top bunk. Your feet balance precariously on a rung of the makeshift ladder, while your arms rest atop the edge of the mattress. Carefully, you place a bowl of fruit on the side of the bed. The room is dim, lit only by the faint, flickering glow of a streetlight filtering through the blinds. The rhythmic thud of Mylo’s ball hitting the ceiling fills the small space, a steady beat against the tense silence.

“You want to talk about what happened today?”

Thunk.Thunk.Thunk.

The wooden bunk bed creaks softly beneath the weight of his restless movements. Mylo lies there sprawled out, legs bent awkwardly to accommodate his too-long frame on a bed that hasn't fit him for years. Each toss of the ball is precise, almost mechanical, as though he’s trying to channel all his frustration into the motion.

You stay there, quiet, watching him. Waiting. Mylo’s never been great at hiding his emotions, but pushing him won’t help. You know better.

Finally, the tension breaks.

“We got our asses handed to us out there!” he snaps, the ball clattering against the ceiling with more force than before. It bounces back into his hand, but he doesn’t throw it again. Instead, he props himself up on one elbow, his sharp glare directed at no one in particular. “But I get reamed out while she just gets to mess up without any consequences? How is that fair?”

His voice is tight, the anger barely masking the frustration beneath. He’s not just mad—he’s hurt, and you can see it in the way his hand tightens around the ball.

“I know.” You nod, trying your best to be understanding. “But Powder’s young, and still learning. She needs her older siblings to show her the way sometimes.”

He throws the ball one final time, hard, and it thuds against the ceiling with a force that makes the bunk bed shudder. The ball drops into his lap as he shoots upright, sitting cross-legged now, his sharp gaze locked onto yours.

“Why does everyone let her off easy because of her age, huh?” he demands, his tone heated, though you can tell the anger is masking something deeper. “Just ’cause she’s ‘the baby’ means she can do no wrong!”

You inhale slowly, steadying yourself. “That’s not true,” you say softly, keeping your voice calm and measured. “But we all have to learn our own way—”

“Then we shouldn’t be taking her on jobs!” Mylo snaps, cutting you off mid-sentence. His hands ball into fists, and you can see the frustration etched into every line of his face. “If she’s not capable, why do we have to pick up the slack?”

You catch yourself before the urge to retort takes over. He’s wound so tight he’s practically vibrating, and if you lash out now, it’ll only make things worse.

Instead, you exhale deeply and let the silence linger for a moment, long enough for him to shift uncomfortably under your gaze. Finally, you speak, your tone firm but even. “Because that’s what families do, Mylo. We take care of each other.”

You can feel the seething anger rolling off of him in waves.

“She’s Vi’s family.” He snaps, throwing himself back onto the mattress. “Not mine, remember?”

“Mylo…” You start, but he continues on.

“She makes everything harder,” he mutters eventually, quieter this time. “And I don’t get to mess up. Ever. Claggor and Vi have her back constantly, and you and Dad always have everyone’s back. And I know she's little, but like…I’m supposed to be your son. You’re supposed to have my back, but everyone’s too busy babying her! You know how that feels?”

You try to ignore the daggers stabbing into your heart with every word. Each sharp syllable from Mylo’s mouth cuts deeper than the last, but you remind yourself that he’s young—too young to shoulder the weight he’s been carrying. He’s stubborn, yes, but it’s the same stubbornness you see in yourself and in Vander. It’s a trait that’s both a blessing and a curse. And right now? Gods, he wasn’t making this easy for you.

Rather than snapping or letting your frustration show, you inhale deeply, steadying yourself. You let the silence hang between you for a beat, maybe two, until he shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting away from yours.

Finally, you speak. Your voice is steady, but there’s a thread of unmistakable warmth beneath the firmness. “You are my son, Mylo.”

You reach out, your hand resting gently on his leg. He stiffens, his body coiling with the same raw energy that’s radiated off him since this conversation began. Then, in one swift motion, he pulls away, retreating like he’s touched a flame.

The rejection stings, more than you care to admit. But you don’t flinch. Instead, you keep your gaze on him, unwavering, as he stares at the floor.

“And Powder is also my daughter,” you continue, your tone softening but losing none of its conviction. “I love you both so much, Mylo. I need you to understand that. But I also love you equally.”

His jaw tightens at the word, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he doesn’t interrupt this time.

“We’re family, my darling,” you say, leaning forward just slightly, trying to close the emotional gap between you. “We look out for each other—not because it’s easy, but because that’s what we do. That’s who we are. You don’t have to like it all the time, and you’re allowed to be angry. But this?” Your voice lowers, growing softer. “This resentment—it’s only going to hurt you.”

For a long moment, Mylo says nothing. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, his knuckles white with tension. Then, finally, he glances up, his expression conflicted. His anger hasn’t fully ebbed, but there’s a flicker of doubt there now, a crack in his armor.

“I just want someone to have my back here…” Mylo’s voice cracks slightly, betraying the vulnerability behind his frustration. He looks away, his jaw set tight, but the weight in his words hangs in the air like a plea he can’t quite bring himself to say outright.

Your chest tightens at his words. You’ve always known how fiercely he feels things, how deeply he longs for validation even when he’s too proud to ask for it.

“I know it feels like you’re alone in this,” you say softly, your voice steady and warm. “But I promise, we’re all on your side. Vander and I are here for you, my darling boy.” You lean forward slightly, your hand hovering near his for a moment before committing to the gesture. “It may not feel like it right now, but I swear, I would take on the whole of the Enforcers for you.”

This time, when your hand brushes his, he doesn’t pull away. His fingers are tense under yours, but the fact that he doesn’t recoil feels like a small victory. Still, he avoids your gaze, his head bowed, the fight in him simmering down to embers.

“And I know your father would do the same,” you add, your tone quieter now, the words almost a whisper.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the ball in his other hand, his thumb tracing the worn seam over and over. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low grumble, rough around the edges. “You guys have a funny way of showing it…”

The words sting, even though you know they’re coming from a place of hurt rather than malice. You tighten your grip on his hand just slightly, anchoring both him and yourself.

“We’re not perfect, Mylo,” you admit, your voice tinged with regret. “We’ve made mistakes—so many mistakes—but everything we do, every decision we make, is because we love you and Powder. We’re trying to do what’s best, even when it doesn’t feel like it.”

He snorts, the sound bitter but less sharp than before. “Yeah? Well, maybe you should ask me what’s best for once.”

You nod, letting the comment land without protest. “You’re right,” you say gently. “We should. And I’m sorry if it feels like we haven’t. But I’m listening now, Mylo. Tell me what you need.”

He looks up at you then, just for a fleeting moment, and in his eyes, you see a flicker of something that might be hope. He’s not ready to forgive or forget—not yet—but he’s listening, too.

“What if…” you hum, squeezing his hand gently, “you eat up this fruit, and then meet me upstairs? We can go out? Maybe grab something from the bakery a couple levels down?”

There’s a flicker in his eyes—a spark that’s been missing for too long—and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.

“Race you. Parkour style,” he challenges, and there’s a mischievous edge to his tone now, a hint of the boy who used to dart through the alleyways, laughing like the world wasn’t on his shoulders.

At this, you laugh—a full, hearty sound that shakes loose some of the tension still lingering in your chest. “That hardly seems fair. You’re too fast, and I’m far too old.”

He grins, already stuffing the fruit into his mouth like his life depends on it. Juice dribbles down his chin, and you can’t help but shake your head, your scolding finger already poised.

“Chew and swallow before you speak, Mylo,” you admonish lightly, though your voice is filled with warmth.

He holds up a hand in mock surrender, gulping down the fruit as quickly as possible before grinning at you, unabashed. “There. Happy now?”

“Very,” you reply, matching his grin.

“Good, because you’re definitely losing this race, Mom!” he declares, his confidence radiating as he jumps off the bunk and bolts toward the door, practically bouncing with anticipation.

You hop off the ladder yourself, your joints protesting slightly, but you ignore the ache. Stretching out your limbs, you roll your shoulders and grin after him.

“I wouldn’t count on it, my darling,” you call out, your voice light but challenging. “I’ve got a few tricks left up my sleeve.”

Mylo stops in the doorway, turning to give you a look of mock surprise. “Oh yeah? We’ll see about that.”

And just like that, the air between you feels lighter—like the weight that had been pressing down on both of you has finally begun to lift. For a moment, there’s no anger, no resentment, no fear. Just the thrill of the challenge and the bond that no amount of hardship can break.

[instead-of-sleeping]

The other-realm

I had to speed writing this and It isn’t proofread, so I’m sorry it isn’t that good or doesnt make much sense. I think that my favourite part of this AU is transforming the game mechanics in in-universe things, anyways enjoy :3 (This is inspired by this post by @brittle-doughie)

Something was wrong. And It is only a matter of time before it gets worse.

For the past days, every time you tried to sleep you would have the same dream: floating in a dark blue space.

The first time was dazzling, like stargazing but you were in the middle of the stars.  Then a chill down your spine.

“Every cookie keeps a sneaky little secret.”

And you were in your bed again, the clock showing it’s midnight.

You recognise the voice, how could you forget that clown after all the harm he has done, but it was just a nightmare, right? 

Your subconscious playing with your memories.

No one was coming back, No one was in danger, everything was fine and you didn’t have to go back to that damned place again.

Just a stupid nightmare.

Needless to say, falling back to sleep was much harder.

That morning between the usual kingdom matters and your friend’s’ letters, there was one different from the others. What a coincidence…

An invitation, as guest of honor, for “Shadow Milk Cookie’s great masterpiece of deceit, where the truth-”

“No.”

Why things couldn’t be just coincidence for you?

Well, actually It didn’t say it was him but like come on! There was literally his face; and it was so satisfying to see it ripped in the trash can.

But it wasn’t hearing his voice again that night and the night after.

Now eyes were watching, multiplying and giggling at your every move.

And every time you woke up the invitation would be in your bed with a small present, that would go directly to the fireplace, whatever was inside it you didn’t want to deal with it.

Of course, the clown kept tormenting with his ominous words

“Don’t lie to me, I know you still like me!”

“It’s no use to try escape… Deceit would swallow you whole”

“Deceit existed since the beginning of Earthbread, and Earth…”

“Your whole life is a lie. Welcome to my world!”

Honestly, such edginess should be studied.

Like the dark circles under your eyes.

Now you should go to do your every day activities, but your head hurt  like hell, the bed was simply too comfy to get out and the Swan knew how you needed the rest, even after it’s been months since dealing with a Beast 

Nothing could make you get up.

Except that knocking on the door.

Still in your pijama you could feel the floor was colder than usual, and wasn’t like ten in the morning why the shadows were so dark?

Opening the door revealed Pure Vanilla, judging by his face he too wasn’t doing well.

“Look, Pure Vanilla Cookie; thanks for coming all the way here but if you are trying to convince me to go to Beast-Yeast again”

“Do you know anything about the Beast-Binding ritual?”

[briarberrythornedhart]

Heart’s Desire

Eddie Munson X gal!Reader, Fluff, Kissing, reference to sex acts, Eddie being a fluffy romantic, 1633 words

🦇 🚐 🦇

It had been almost two months since you started seeing each other. Today you both had off work and you were hanging out in his van to have a little more privacy.

Eddie had a way of starting out dates on a playful note. Teasing, tickling, even rough-housing with you.

As if he thought he needed to trick you into paying attention to him or getting close to him.

As if you weren’t totally enthralled with him and didn’t always want to be all over him. Which you did.

Anyway, after some amount of silliness he’d get more intense. Giving you hot and deep kisses, bringing his hands to the sides of your face, or cupping the back of your neck to keep you close, or grabbing a handful of the side of your shirt - and kissing you like the world depended on it before getting naked with you.

He suddenly stopped in the middle of a kiss that had been getting quite serious and asked you, “What do you want for your birthday?”

“Wha...Um… I’m not s-sure?” You were breathless. And your birthday was months away and you were very much feeling grounded in the here and now with Eddie and his kisses and his wandering hands and the heat of his body pressed to yours.

“I just want to give you the best day, on that day, you know.” He huffed and smiled wryly, leaning his head down to the side - kissing you just under your left eye. “Also... I don’t know when your birthday is yet, so I thought this would be a good time to ask.” He shrugged, grinned.

That made you chuckle. “That info wasn’t in ‘the dossier’ from Dustin?”

Dustin had given Eddie a great deal of intel on you. Dustin loved playing cupid - and this time it actually worked.

Eddie shook his head ‘no’ and his curls flew around dramatically, “Uh-uh, he was shockingly not forthcoming on your birth date! Now, your birth Year, I already know. And your star sign. But that’s a wide window of dates.” Eddie gestured broadly with his arms to show how wide - but then his hands came to rest on your hips again as if a magnet pulled them there.

You told him your birthday. He smiled. “Good. Then, I’ve got time to plan.” He leaned in to kiss you again, but you stopped him.

“When is yours?” You asked him.

He looked down. Pulled a lock of of his curly hair between his lips. “Today.”

“What!!!?” You stiffened in his arms from the surprise. “Why didn’t you say??”

“I just did?” Eddie looked innocent with those big pretty eyes, but there was a glint of something decidedly non-innocent in them.

“No, I mean, when you called me, instead of saying ‘do you wanna hang out or something?’ you could have said, ‘hey come over and bring birthday-boy treats’ or something??!”

Eddie’s smile was irrepressible. “What are ‘birthday boy treats’?”

You may have made an exasperated noise, you weren’t really upset, though. “C’mon. We need to really celebrate!” You dismounted his lap and grabbed for his hand.

“I thought you said you liked it back here!” Eddie gestured at all the effort he’d put into making the space cozy. Blankets, pillows, the cushion from a papasan chair laid out like a (too-small) mattress, battery powered christmas/fairy lights strung up on the ceiling. It was nice. “Anyway, I donwanna stop fooling around, just....” He pouted playfully. He curled one arm around your waist and pulled you close, burying his face against you. Whatever he said next was too muffled by your sweater to understand.

“Eddie...” you sang his name softly into the top of his head. “Let me spoil you.”

He looked up with that mischievous look in his eyes again, he licked his upper lip. “Spoil me how???”

“I will grant you three wishes.”

“Hmmm... that never ends well in stories. It always goes all.... monkey’s paw....” Eddie brought your hand to his lips and flipped it palm up, kissing the center under your palm’s heart line. Then he bit lightly between your thumb and forefinger making you gasp.

“Not if the wishes are your heart's desire. Heart's Desire is sacrosanct.” You said this with unearned confidence and tugged down the neck of your sweater to tap your heart’s general area and exposing more skin. His eyes widened and his fingers flexed. He made a noise not unlike a growl.

The key to arguing with Eddie (and winning) is projecting confidence, and flashing him your tits.

“So... let’s have it? What do you desire?” you said.

“I, Edward Munson, get my heart’s desire TODAY, and it’s only date 13??!” Eddie laughed. “Knowing that, I woulda taken you on twice as many dates...to level up faster.”

“Today is Date 14.” You stated.

“You don’t ... count the Laundry incident as a date do you?” Eddie’s nose wrinkled.

“Of course I do. You don’t??” You kissed his neck - tentatively licked over his adam's apple making him hum a happy noise. Then you sat up. “Wait, why do you call it the Laundry Incident?”

“If you have to put everyone’s clothes in the wash, it is officially an Incident, but, we’re getting off topic, Sweetheart.” Eddie pushed some of your hair behind your ear.

“Quite right. You were distracting me. What is your first heart’s desire, Eddie, on this very special day.”

Eddie looked down, turned a little pink along his cheeks and jaw, he whispered. “S’not that special. Just another day...”

“The day you came into the world is the most special to me.” You lifted his chin so his eyes would meet yours. “Tell me your first wish.”

“Promise you won’t laugh.” Eddie’s forehead was creased in a line that led down to his nose.

“I swear, I will not, not even a little.”

“Come to the mall with me, just ta’ walk around... holding my hand.” He frowned and watched your face intently.

“That’s all?” Honestly you were expecting something sexual in nature.

“Most of my exes... didn’t want to be seen in public with me. I know you aren’t like... ashamed of me or anything, you’ve introduced me to your parents, and you hang out with me in groups... but, at the mall it’s...”

You interrupted...“Extra Public? May I hang all over you? And maybe....do everything just shy of getting us kicked out for excessive PDA.”

Eddie grinned again, “That’s the general idea.”

One shared USS Butterscotch, one thorough combing through the sale bin at Sam Goody, quite a ton of necking and groping, and one piggy-back ride to Eddie’s van later, you asked Eddie for his second wish.

He winced as he started up the van. “Will you play a game with me? A board game.”

“Of course. But I’d play a game with you like any day, I kinda feel like you are squandering your wishes...” You teased.

Eddie sighed and his shoulders dropped. “Gareth says I’m... unreasonable when I play tabletop games. That it is no fun to play with me. He says I’m good as a Dungeon Master because I have a measure of control but he says no one would put up with my BS in a non role-playing game.”

“Sounds like Gareth has lots of opinions.” You said dryly. Gareth was an okay kid but grumpy, and you’d bet money he was a sore loser.

“I have Talisman, Battleship, Risk and Twixt.” Eddie said this new-york fast and then was biting his lips together.

“Can we play Talisman?” You asked.

Eddie smiled and it was like the sun rising over lover’s lake. “I’ll set it up.”

Eddie got really REALLY into the game, but he didn’t smack-talk you or make fun of your choices and he was a gracious winner. He didn’t do any number of things that make a person unpleasant to game with. You pronounced Gareth: full of shit.

“What is your third wish?” you asked.

“Are you prepared to take our relationship to the next level?” Eddie asked. He pulled out his old metal lunchbox from beside his bed.

“What kinda level would that be?” you purred back. Finally, this had to be a sex thing.

Eddie took out a pair of Handcuffs (!) Standard police issue handcuffs.

Oh. Your heart beat wildly in your chest. Not scared... he did have that handcuff belt buckle after all, just, bondage hadn’t come up at all yet. If anything Eddie was REALLY into missionary with hand holding and 69ing for as long as possible.

He swung them around on his finger. “So...I wanna go to Benny’s Diner, you know Benny’s?”

“Isn’t Benny’s closed? Like condemned??”

“Behind Benny’s.” Eddie said.

Okay - you thought... he wants to have bondage-y sex outside the closed diner... strange but not OFF the table for you. After some discussion of hard limits and things you might be into that. Eddie could, after all, be very persuasive when he put his mind to it. And he was very generous.

“Which of us is gonna be wearing the cuffs?” You asked.

Eddie sputtered. “Oh - I - I - didn’t mean like... uh, maybe when it’s not so cold out we could... but this is because... there is a love-lock fence behind Benny's. People put their initials on a lock or - like - I put ours into these cuffs and we could lock it to the fence...” He showed you that he’d gotten ‘forever E M’ on one cuff and your initials and a heart on the other. “It’s like... a vow. Unless that’s too much or... too fast.”

You may have jumped into his arms. You may have kissed him like he had made you the happiest person in the world.

Because he had.

[themagicafox]

Hogwarts AU: Slytherin Rafayel and Sylus Headcanons

I'm not a professional ficwriter, I’m just having fun

English is not my first language; sorry for the grammar mistakes

Maybe I`ll do part 2 if someone likes it and wants more

@peacedreamer14 I promised drawings but I am busy at uni right now and don't have enough time, but it’ll come!!

I hope someone will like it \ (•◡•) /

Sylus

Smug, calm, and prideful, but never seeks fights with others—he’s too above it. He doesn’t care about the common rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin unless it affects him directly. But no one wants to fight him anyway

He is an excellent student. Favorite subject is Defense Against the Dark Arts. He also mastered the Apparition spell at a young age

Sylus can cast spells without a wand

Mephisto as his companion animal that can mimic speech. Sylus takes great pleasure in watching people jump in fear when Mephisto speaks in a devilish voice out of nowhere

Has declined every offer to join the Quidditch team

His favorite activity is annoying Rafayel

“Oh no, your girlfriends ran away,” he said after releasing toads from Rafayel’s terrarium

Once, he changed Rafayel’s hair color to pink by adding a potion to his shampoo in the bathroom

“What? It suits you, charm boy”

He would never admit that Rafayel is his only friend actually

“Friend? I barely remember his name”

Sylus has sensitive eyes. During a duel with Xavier, he almost lost due to a surprisingly strong light spell

“Professor! That’s cheating, oi!”

“Hey, don’t embarrass me”

“You’re the only one embarrassing yourself and Slytherin. Get up and beat him like you know, jerk”

Sylus goes to bed only after everyone else is asleep. He often sneaks into the Restricted Section of the library, which leads to frequent arguments with Ravenclaw prefect Zayne, who always catches him

“I thought I told you not to roam around at night”

“Sincerely sorry, but I don’t believe I’m under your command. Anyway, I was already heading to my room”

Sylus is a mystery. No one knows much about him. Is he pureblood? Who is his family? How rich is he?! (His entire demeanor screams “beyond rich”)

No one gets close to him except for Rafayel and MC

Sylus and Rafayel often fall asleep in class due to their late-night antics

He absolutely hates Zayne and Xavier because they’re too close to MC

“You know, even you don’t annoy me as much as those two,”

“Mutual”

After working together perfectly on pranks or mischiefs, they instantly start fighting again

“That’s enough teamwork for today with a sly half-blood crow”

“Come again, mermaid misunderstanding”

Rafayel

Very popular among students, Rafayel comes from a famous, wealthy pureblood family

Naturally talented in magic, his favorite class is Transfiguration

He despises worn books, cheap clothes, and people who don’t take care of their appearance

His custom wand cost as much as a new brand car, but he insisted on designing it with mermaid hair and black pearls

He helps restore Hogwarts’ old paintings in his free time

Once, Rafayel saved a group of first-years from mermaids in the Black Lake

“Idiots! What were you thinking? Ugh, I think I’m dying. Now you owe me your lives until graduation”

Rafayel spends way too much time in the bathroom, which annoys Sylus, who also likes his showers

There’s endless competition between him and Sylus in everything: academics, wealth, and even MC’s attention

He once bought the entire Slytherin Quidditch team new brooms just to show off in front of Sylus

MC often has to step in to prevent their heated arguments from escalating into full-blown duels in the common room

Rafayel gets visibly irritated whenever MC compliments someone else’s skills

Extremely protective of Slytherin’s honor, he’ll often team up with Sylus (if he is in the mood, of course) to humiliate Gryffindor or Ravenclaw students who insult their house

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Give me a minute; I’ll get closer,” Sylus says, lifting a student he’s just transfigured into a rabbit up to his ear. “Still nothing. Rafayel, care to try?” Rafayel approaches with an exaggerated, theatrical expression, nodding and humming as though he understands the rabbit’s trembling squeaks

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Next up are the stories where eddie does (or presumably will soon) yell at his parents! We love to see it (and are eagerly waiting and hoping for it to happen on screen soon)!

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲 (diaz siblings reunited! All the buck, eddie, and adriana in the woods stuff had me on the edge of my seat and I can’t wait to read it all through when it’s published! Also eddie freaking out about his back nightmares coming true is really getting to me - poor guy!)

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️ (oh boy an ominous warning from nemesis! I’m concerned! And seeing the accident that presumably killed eddie in the other timeline! I just want all three of my boys to get back home to LA so i can wrap them up in blankets together on their couch and feed them soup)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (how do i always forget about covid? It keeps sneaking up on me! But I’m loving the progression of buddieshannon - it seems like they’re getting close! And i really love the way you’ve created maddie and shannon’s friendship! It’s beautiful and it makes me laugh when i think about eddie and maddies completely no existent relationship in the show :p)

Also I’m curious (but obviously feel free to ignore if you want to keep the details to yourself), how far are these stories along in what you have planned for them? Cuz they’ve all come such a long way that I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re getting towards their ends, but you’re so talented at plot development that I know they could have so much more to come!

- PCA <3

Hey! Thank you - love this theme, too!

As to your last question - great question!

For Gentle on My Mind I am not sure. I planned it sort of like TWATYTK where I just sort of have things I want to reach and will write until I get there. But it won't be nearly as long.

For Firelight, I am well into chapter 7 out of 10.

For An An Angry Blade, I am almost done chapter 4 out of 6.

96 for 🌲 (Ahh thank you! Yes! Lots of angst!)

---

“Me believing it?” Eddie says. 

Buck nods. 

Eddie inhales. “Then why isn’t the rest of it gone, too?”

“Good question,” Buck says. “I guess it’s only one theory.”

“Worth… Worth keeping in mind,” Eddie mumbles, blushing. He feels embarrassed, all of a sudden. Like a princess in a tower.

Buck smiles a little lopsidedly. “Well, I love you.”

Eddie exhales and smiles back. 

“I know you do.”  

ii. 

They return Adriana’s rental car in the morning, and with Buck at the wheel of Eddie’s truck, they head towards El Paso. It’s going to be a long drive. With Eddie, anxious as hell about confronting his mother and seeing Chris. With Adriana and Sophia, who don’t seem to like him. All good stuff. 

Adriana is quiet. Buck has found her rather frustrating this entire time, but then he remembers what she’s been through, and it’s hard to hold it against her. Sophia, though? Buck’s not sure what her problem is. He hasn’t done anything to her. In fact, he’s kind of been important in helping both her siblings. No big deal. But she’s still pretty frosty to him today. 

It doesn’t really matter, he supposes. It doesn’t matter if Sophia likes him. It’s not like it’s going to impact Eddie’s opinion. He makes his own strong opinions, and he loves Buck. Besides, they aren’t super close. Physically or emotionally. Eddie once told him they were, before Chris. She was still a teenager, and while he was too, he didn’t really get to stay that way.  Makes sense.

“So, Sophia,” Buck says, a few hours into the drive. Because while it may not matter that she doesn’t like him, he still really wants her to anyway. 

“So, Buck,” she repeats.

“You’re a vet, right?” Buck asks. “Like, not the kind Eddie is?”

“No, I served in ‘Nam,” she says flatly.

“Oh my god, you’re such a dick sometimes,” Eddie huffs. “Can you please be nice?”

Sophia makes a frustrated noise. “Yes. I’m a veterinarian.”

“That’s uh… That’s super cool,” Buck says. 

“Yep,” she replies.

“Hey, uh, did I do something?” Buck asks. “Because I know why your sister and I maybe got off on the wrong foot, but you and I-”

“It’s not you. You’re fine,” she cuts him off. “I don’t care… I mean, happy for you and Eddie, or whatever.”

“This is really cool and chill,” Adriana mumbles. 

“What does that mean?” Eddie asks.

“It’s nothing, Eddie. Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” Eddie shifts his body to turn and look at her. “It obviously means something, Soph. So just say it.”

She rolls her eyes. Buck thinks her expression sort of reminds him of Christopher’s, when he’s fed up or annoyed. She’s so familiar, for someone who is more or less a stranger. 

“Fine, Eddie,” she snaps. “Fine. You want to know why I’m being pissy with your boyfriend?”

“We haven’t actually labeled it,” Buck whispers. “But I’m cool with that if you are.”

Eddie doesn’t seem to hear this.

“Obviously or I wouldn’t ask!” He fires back.

“How long did you know what was going on with our baby sister before you told me?” Sophia snaps. “After all I went through looking for her!”

“I didn’t even know,” Eddie defends himself. “It was a hunch.”

“Well, you told someone else before you told me! And I’m sure you’re great, Buck. You seem fine. But you shouldn’t have seen my sister before me. You shouldn’t have known what happened to her before me.”

“My god, Soph,” Adriana sighs. 

“No, my god!” She snaps. “You have no idea what it was like, not knowing! It drove me crazy!”

“I’m sorry,” Adriana says. “But that’s not Eddie’s fault. Or Buck’s.”

---

96 for ⚖️ (Buck especially needs blankets and soup!)

---

“The stories differ,” the officer says. 

“SHE STABBED ME WITH HER CAR KEYS,” the woman shrieks. 

“Ma’am, we’d like to take a look at your wounds,” Eddie says patiently. “Would you come to the ambulance with us so we can treat those?”

“Finally, someone who knows what the hell they’re doing,” the woman snaps. 

The officer refrains from rolling his eyes, but Buck can see it’s a struggle. He guides her over to the ambulance behind Buck and Eddie. She sits down on the open back and Eddie inspects her injuries while Buck hands him supplies from the med kit. 

“These don’t look too deep,” Eddie tells her, checking over the wounds on her arms and torso. “I’m just going to clean and bandage them before you head out, okay?” 

“Head out?” The woman asks. “Head out to where?”

“I’ll need to bring you back to the station to answer some questions,” the officer says. “File a proper report about what happened here today.”

At that moment, Bobby walks over from Chim and Hen, who seem to have their situation under control, to here, just as the woman is growing increasingly exasperated.

“No!” She screeches. “No, you can’t take me to the station, I don’t want to go!”

“Ma’am, it’s protocol,” the officer says. 

“I won’t go!” She throws up her arms, jolting Eddie’s hands as he tries to clean her wounds. 

“Hey, uh, it-it really helps my co-worker if you keep still while he works,” Buck tries. 

She completely ignores him.

“I will not go! You cannot make me!” She continues to protest, gesticulating wildly. Eddie has to move back to avoid getting accidentally smacked. 

“Everything okay here?” Bobby asks, frowning. Like he can see a situation unfolding.  

“I’m not going back to jail!” The woman cries. 

“Back?” Eddie echoes.

“No one said anything about jail, Ma’am,” the officer says. “We just need to take your statement and get some information-”

“No!” She yelps. She stands suddenly, darting out and away from Eddie.

“Wait!” The officer calls. “You can’t just-”

But the woman is trying to make a break for it. Buck and the officer start in her direction, but Bobby is closer. He manages to intercept her, stepping in her way and grabbing her arm. 

“LET GO OF ME!” She shrieks. 

Bobby keeps a firm hold on her. “Now you need to calm-”

He’s cut off by the woman reaching into the pocket of her jacket, pulling something out that Buck can’t quite see, and thrusting it into Bobby’s abdomen. Bobby’s breath catches. His eyes widen with a pained expression. 

“BOBBY!” Buck shouts, sprinting for him. 

He stops short, Eddie grabbing the back of his shirt, when the officer draws his gun and points it at the woman. 

⚖️

An hour later, the woman - Carol, it turns out, her name is - has been arrested, and Buck is waiting in the ER. 

She stabbed Bobby with a pen. Hard enough to cause damage, but not sharp enough to kill him. Still, there was a lot of blood. And Bobby paled so much he passed out briefly in the ambulance. It’s not a blade wound. It’s not like the time Buck found Chim bleeding on the cobblestones out front Maddie’s apartment. But it’s not good. Not at all. 

“He’s not going to die,” Hen says firmly in the waiting room. She still needs to wash Bobby’s blood from under her fingernails. “We’ve all survived way worse than this, right? He’s going to be just fine.”

And Buck knows she’s probably right. She usually is, for one thing. For another, Buck knows it’s not the worst injury anyone has ever sustained. Bobby will get it cleaned and patched up and he’ll be just fine. 

But Buck is still furious. He has anger curling in him, tight and hot. Ready to burst at a moment’s notice. 

When Athena shows up, worried and just as angry as Buck that this has happened, she fills them in on what happened. The pieces they missed.

“The two women who were initially attacked, Carol Brandt and her sister, Vanessa, were visiting on a trip from Utah. Apparently, they’re local leaders in some sort of multi-level marketing scheme. Have been arrested before for an altercation with a former member of their downline. A downline which includes today’s perp, who followed them and confronted them about shady practices.” 

“So Bobby got stabbed over some essential oils?” Buck asks, tone snappish. “That’s what you’re saying?”

“I believe this is protein drinks, but yeah,” Athena confirms, pursing her lips. 

And Buck… He just can’t handle it. 

He stands abruptly, eyes brimming with tears. He feels so tired and frustrated and… And unable to cope. 

“Sorry, Athena,” he mumbles, then he makes a bee-line for the exit. He doesn’t give a reason or excuse. He just needs some air. 

---

63 for 🔼 (Haha yeah Eddie and Maddie need to interact, but for now, at least I've got imaginary Shannon & Maddie):

---

“You have to talk to her, Dad. Please, you do,” Chris begs. 

“Uh…” Eddie thinks. “What’s the name of the game, Chris?”

There’s a long pause. 

“Why?” 

Ah. He doesn’t want Eddie to know. Well, that’s not lending credibility to his story.

“Because your mom likes to make you happy,” Eddie says. “So if she said no, there’s probably a reason. And I’m wondering if that reason maybe has something to do with the game’s rating.”

Another long pause. His eyes are downturned. 

“Christopher,” Eddie presses. “What is the game rated?”

“M,” Chris admits finally. “But only because-”

“Yeah, see. No,” Eddie says. “Your mom is absolutely right, Chris. You are too young to be playing a game with that rating.”

“But, Dad-”

“No buts, Chris. It’s inappropriate. End of story.”

Christopher’s expression twists with fury. He’s mad mad. Well, tough. Shannon was right. Eddie isn’t going to undermine her or let his kid play some traumatizing, violent game at his age. 

“I’m sorry it’s disappointing,” Eddie says. “I know you miss your friends.”

“It’s not fair!” Chris protests. “I don’t get to do anything with anyone. Not even you!”

Eddie’s heart hurts for his son. Here he is frustrated by too much time with his friends, while Chris is over there lonely. Sure, he’s got his mom. And he’s got his sister. But what good company is a baby, really? He’s needing something he can’t get right now, and it’s no one’s fault. It’s just the world right now.

“Chris, I know this is really hard-”

“No! You don’t!” Chris interrupts. “You get to be with Buck and do things every day!” 

Eddie sighs. “I know. I know it isn’t fair.”

“No, you don’t,” Chris grumbles. And then, without even saying goodbye, Chris hangs up the phone. 

Shit. 

◀️

Shannon can hear Chris call Eddie. Despite saying she would talk to him. Whatever. He’s allowed to call his father. Just… It feels underhanded, right? Trying to convince Eddie to make the opposite decision to hers without talking to her. She’s mad. 

[literary-illuminati]

2025 Book Review #2 – Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly by Anthony Bourdain

Anthony Bourdain is a name I was very vaguely aware of, if mostly for the one clip of him not wanting to drink to the Queen’s health in Newfoundland and the quote about how much he hated Kissinger. So when I received this as a birthday gift back in August (and frankly the fact that I read it in less than five months is a sign of improvement. I still haven’t touched the copy of Shogun I got in 2023) I had only the very general idea that he was a big name celebrity chef, and this is the book that made him famous. Which is, having read it, actually pretty ironic.

The book is combination autobiography and gleefully vulgar, warts-and-all exploration of the the restaurant business (specifically that of late 20th century New York). It follows Bourdain’s life and career in more or less chronological fashion (though jumping around on several occasions, either for dramatic effect or just to follow a tangent) from the childhood vacation to France that started his love affair with food, through decades of variably glamorous ups and downs in the industry, to the rather enviable position he was in as he finished the book �� and then, in my edition at least, an afterword that still seemed almost in shock of how unrecognizable his life has become since. Intercut with this are discussions of the food industry and the people who spend their lives in it – all told with roughly the enthusiasm and focus on the obscene of someone trying to earn some free drinks off their stories. Which Bourdain does fully cop to in the forward, to be fair.

The persona he writes as is at least a bit insufferable, but that doesn’t stop the book from being a really interesting and (mostly) fun read. It does have a touch of the 40-something guy reminiscing about his misspent youth and all the drugs and sex and petty theft at length before awkwardly coughing and pretending to regret it, but otherwise – I’m honestly not sure whether it’s the restaurant industry, the ‘80s-’90s or just New York but the cultural snapshot is just fascinating. And only partially because roughly nine in ten of the charming anecdotes sound like they’re taken from mandatory training about how not to act in the workplace. The things about the economics and logistics of running a restaurant, at least, were absolutely great. And the absolutely dire state of food culture in ‘70s-’80s America is just chilling to consider.

I got what I believe is the third edition of the book? Or, at least, it had both a foreword and afterword written years after the original release, and additional little hand-written notes in the margins at the beginning and end of each chapter adding his reflections on them ever more years after that. Which on net show a bit of a softening process and increasing regret at the utter contempt he had for e.g. serving staff when writing the original book. As well as a clear sort of anxiety or guilt at how much of a phony the him that had written it would consider his career since (full time celebrity and star of his own tv show traveling the world and eating, barely touching a kitchen, etc). Also the unfortunately funny dramatic irony of all the talk of his wife inexplicably putting up with and supporting him throughout a book getting capped off by a marginal aside about getting divorced since publication.

Anyway, great read if you like the Bear or are interested in restaurants/the dirty underbelly of things in general and can stand a decent amount of macho blustering. Great for airports.

[karebear923]

Okay I just watched the first episode of The Heart Killers!!

It is 12am now and I just know I’m gonna fall asleep standing up tomorrow 😴🪫 (today?) but gosh that was so good!! I’m not expecting much except to be entertained and that’s what I got!!

I can’t believe Style was that flirty and sassy with Fadel before his deal with Kant! Like that was just him being himself! 😄

My favorite part of the ass-grab moment wasn’t even the ass-grab. It was FirstKhao smiling at each other!!! Ooooh that got me giggling and kicking my feet more than anything!!

I love music but I always pay more attention to the official OSTs than the songs chosen for background, but this time I’m paying attention to all the songs! I gotta look some up cause there were so many good ones!

The visuals are stunning, this is looking like a big production! Sets, props, costumes, amazing! But was it just me or was the audio really bad? It sounded kinda fuzzy/echoey and it seemed to be only when they spoke, not the background music so I don’t think it was my earbuds? Idk if anyone else had that issue, I didn’t see anyone post about it.

Aaahhhh that was so good tho! I can’t wait for more!!!

[ironunderstands]

Sunday’s worldview sucks, his outlook and perception of himself and others sucks… and that’s why he’s so interesting

In honor of his drip marketing releasing tonight (or maybe yesterday for you depending on when I get this out), I’d like to talk about why I think Sunday’s beliefs and perspective is very, very flawed and how his own biases rather than the actions of those who oppose him are what led to his downfall.

Sunday is entirely responsible for his own failure, and that’s exactly why he’s incredible.

This contains mentions of leaks and spoilers for the Penacony quest line… you have been warned

To start with, oh my lord do Sunday’s preconceived notions kick him in the ass. 

I think the best example of this is his conversation with Dr. Ratio in which Ratio pretends to betray Aventurine, selling out his plan to Sunday. Now, what’s incredibly interesting about this exchange is that Ratio doesn’t fully lie to Sunday once in this exchange, rather he says half truths and makes vague statements which Sunday himself interprets as being in support of him. 

Take what Ratio said the whole, “A scholar knows their position and wouldn’t forsake it for the sake of petty pride.” In retrospect, we know this line is actually referring to Aventurine- aka Ratio is saying he’s not just going to sell him out to Sunday for the sake of information about the Stellaron (which he would get anyways if the IPC attained Penacony, plus Mr. Incredibly Dedicated Knowledge Spreader probably has other means of gaining it then through The Family). 

However, since Ratio answered the invitation Sunday gave him, Sunday assumes that Ratio is on his side, believes his cause is righteous, and that he won Ratio over with offering him information about the Stellaron, therefore making that previous statement of Ratio’s null, because Sunday interpreted it as, “convince me this is worth my time + prove to me you’re correct,” when it really meant, “there is no way in hell I’m about to sacrifice my friend to you, and there is nothing you could offer me to make me do so you crazed lunatic.”

But why did Sunday not weigh the options? Why did he unquestioningly believe his perception of the situation was the correct one?

Well- partly it’s because Ratio and Aventurine were doing their damndest to make it seem like they hate each other and that their plan was going off the rails.

But the more important part is that even without Ratio saying a word or even accepting the invitation, Sunday already believes he’d be on his side. 

Let me demonstrate this through Sunday's perspective:

I am a righteous person, I am doing the correct things, my worldview is the correct one. Dr. Ratio is also a righteous person who seems to be doing the correct things. Therefore, since we are both on the side of good, and Aventurine is clearly not on that side considering his status as Stoneheart and his negative relationship to Ratio, then Ratio will naturally want to be on my side. After all, the good guys work together, do they not?- and together will vanquish this evil villain.

This perspective is a simple one, but Sunday’s unshaking belief (up until the end of 2.2) that he is 100% in correct and in the right, that any and everyone who he also perceives to be in the right (like Ratio) would believe/side with him without truly needing to be convinced. Sunday doesn’t come out the gate offering the Stellaron information- he only keeps it as a backup just in case. 

However, this is complicated because Sunday is also not an idiot, and he’s extremely paranoid, so he’s going to make sure that the way he views the world is 100% correct on the off chance he’s wrong which could foil his plans- which is why he invited Ratio in the first place. Nevertheless, this isn’t him hunting for new perspectives, but rather him desiring to prove himself right again, which is a bad thing because Sunday is very much not right. 

A perfect world is a perfect pris- *gets shot*

Reference that approximately 2 ½ people will get beside, Sunday’s ideology that he is fully confident in.. sucks. It sucks ass, it’s terrible, and let me explain.

I’m not going to try going over all the little intricacies to how the dreamscape works because I a) don’t know and b) don’t particularly care because they aren’t relevant to the argument I will be making- which is that Sunday’s ideology is inherently flawed and immediately falls apart under scrutiny.

Essentially, he desires to create the perfect fake reality, enveloping the whole galaxy in Ena’s dream and fulfilling their every desire and whim within it, with himself as the sacrifice to allow it to exist. The seven rest days, no illness, no pain, no challenge, you get the idea. 

And, this perfect world paradoxically sucks ass because of its perfectness.

Improving society is great, eliminating hardship is great, increasing quality of life is great.

But declawing reality itself- absolutely not.

I’m going to try to explain this through my favorite strangely specific anecdote- the process of obtaining diamonds in Minecraft.

Stay with me now.

You essentially have two options- go out and mine them yourselves the hard way, which takes hours, gives you less diamonds per the amount of time spent on it, and likely with you exhausting some of your resources like food, torches, and tools which you will need to replenish.

Or.

You can just.. get them from creative mode or commands, and you can get as many as your heart desires.

However, despite the fact that option one is harder, gives you less diamonds and takes significantly more time, I, as well as hopefully you, would pick it every time (at least in a survival world, although honestly idk why you would even need pure diamonds in creative).

And that’s because the first option is rewarding. 

You did not earn the diamonds you easily and magically summoned into your inventory, there is no struggle, no journey, no challenge to it, therefore it feels entirely unremarkable, as compared to the feeling you (hopefully) get from mining diamonds, which makes you happy because you earned it. Yeah, it was harder, but the process itself is fun- the anticipation of not knowing when you’re going to find them, if at all, the danger, the fighting and digging and mauvering you will have to do in the process.

And with this unconventional example, the fatal flaw with Sunday’s ideology is revealed- it’s boring. 

It’s boring as shit.

Yeah, for the first few months or even years it might be enjoyable- having everything you could ever want served on a silver platter. However, humans are a) inherently a bit greedy and b) desire challenge, and this scenario fulfilles neither of those things. Naturally having everything means your desire for more can never be fulfilled, leaving the wanter forever unsatisfied, whereas in the real world, things are truly out of your reach, meaning that even if you never end up getting them, they are still a tangible thing just out of reach… as strange at it sounds, we like being tantalilus-ed more than you think. After all, if what you want is so easy to get, you will never run out of things to want, and eventually that gets draining. 

Continually, if everything is easy, if everything is just right there whenever you want it- existence itself no longer has stakes. 

And that’s the problem, because much like how a story with no stakes is extremely hard to find compelling, a life with no stakes feels boring at best and downright pointless and meaningless at worst.

I’m just saying, there is a reason why the Nihility was such a strong presence and problem in Penacony.

Anyways, like with the diamond problem, a lack of stakes means that nothing you do feels rewarding, because you didn’t truly earn it. 

Which is where the Sunday’s idea of a “perfect” reality falls apart, because the most enjoyable reality for humans to live in is not one literally devoid of any possible flaw.

So why does he believe in it? When it’s so clearly flawed?

Well, it’s because Sunday doesn’t think a better alternative exists.

The world made you this way.. and you chose to continue what it started.

I’m sure I don’t need to repeat the story of the Charmony Dove all over again because trust me, we’ve all heard it before. Nonetheless, it reveals something important both about Sunday’s personality and his ideology- he’s fundamentally a defeatist.

He doesn’t believe that there is any alternative for the dove, that it could ever be able to fly again with its deformed nature, so instead of being “cruel” and letting it “inevitably fall to its death,” he’d rather keep it in a cage all its life where it has no freedom, but at least it would he alive and “happy”.

And this is where his defeatism reveals itself- Sunday doesn’t believe reality itself can get better because improving it when there are so many factors and things out of your control is hard at best and impossible at worst. Therefore, he resorts to creating an escapist, false version of it- a perfect golden cage, because constructing that is far, far easier than trying to help the dove fly again. 

The universe has endless possibilities, if Robin and Sunday had tried hard enough, they probably could have found a solution. Sure, they were both children, so the capabilities necessary to even attempt that were likely far out of their reach. However, it was still possible, but Sunday doesn’t believe in possibilities- he believes he’s right above all else, which is where that stubbornness and arrogance comes into play again.

Sunday doesn’t think better solutions than his exists, and he believes everyone would could possibly stand in his noble way are either villains, or horribly misguided; so it’s his job to show them the light.

This is why he lets the Express Crew + Firefly try to change his mind- Sunday wasn’t actually interesting in shifting his perspective, or really what they wanted to say. Rather, he just wanted to let them say there peace, because well, Sunday’s a good, righteous person (at least from his perspective), and good, righteous people listen to others. Good, righteous people will let these poor, ignorant souls offer their foolish words before exposing them to the harsh truth- or at least that’s how Sunday sees it. 

Moreover, this also explains his arrogance. If he believes his worldview is the sole correct one, then why listen to anyone else? He’s this world's savior, or at least he’s been raised to believe that- so why not relish in it? He enjoys punishing Aventurine, enjoys the bastard who stood in the way of Sunday’s plans, shrinks away in “defeat” and get what he “deserves.” Despite how miserable it sounds, Sunday also takes pride in having to be a martyr to bring about his beautiful dream. The belief that he is a selfless, good person is a selfish desire of his, even if a genuine one, and it’s what leads to his downfall.

Sunday could have actually listened. He could have reevaluated his loss to Aventurine and realized it was not through the others clever deception, but through his own biases. He could have actually taken the Express’s and Firefly’s advice. He could have looked for other avenues to help the people he truly does care about. 

Despite Gopher Wood’s manipulation- Sunday’s decision to go forward with the pain is entirely his own, because he truly believes- even with all the evidence for the contrary- that he is correct.

And that’s why he fails. Not because of the Express. Not because of Ratio. Not because of Aventurine. Not because of Gopher, or even the rest of The Family.

No, Sunday fails because he is flawed, and he is wrong, and he is the arrogant, selfish and biased one, and his worldview is wrong.

So what now?

This might have seemed like I think Sunday is pure evil and irredeemable, but I think it’s quite the opposite.

He has very good intentions, and he does genuinely care about it the well being of other people around him. He gives Aventurine a chance to prove his innocence, even if he never intended on changing, he does listen to what the Express + Firefly have to say. He pauses when Robin shows up, as she’s the one person (until the very end) he’s actually willing to accept the perspective of. The whole reason he ended up here in the first place is because Gopher Wood twisted Sunday’s good intentions into a fatal arrogance and utmost belief in a flawed worldview. 

However, what really sells me on Sunday’s goodness is when eyes widen at that final moment, the light draining from him as he realizes he is wrong. 

And once Sunday realizes he is wrong, those flaws that bind him can finally be examined and improved upon, as they all stem from that worldview he no longer believes in. 

His whole life, Sunday has been enacting out someone else’s plan for him, even if he’s come to internalize it over time, at the end of the day- it was never his, and without it, he’s empty.

Which is exactly why the only place he can go now is the Express, and the only thing left for him is redemption and growth.

Dan Heng is right- Sunday has a noble soul, and now that he has stopped believing in himself, he’s no longer shackled by the past either. Improvement or utter demise (in a likely nihility-flavored manner) are his only options remaining.

I understand a lot of people want to see him become a Stellaron Hunter, but imo, that just does nothing for him. He’d still be following someone else’s path/script, and Mr. I Will Sacrifice My Whole Existence To Become The Sun To Illuminate These Wandering Souls probably wouldn’t be so on board with the whole.. terrorism part of being a SH. Like yeah, they are our friends (kinda), but they absolutely kill innocent people and cause millions of dollars in property damage to people who don’t deserve it. 

Also, being on the Express Just Makes Sense. This is a game about choices, a game about accepting the mistakes of your past, but not letting them define you in order to move on and forge a better future for yourself and others- with the Astral Express + Trailblaze as a concept being the literal embodiment of it. There’s a reason when you switch to the Trailblazer’s POV in stories, it includes Kafka’s most important words to us- “When you have the chance to make a choice, make one you won’t regret.”

Therefore, I hope the choices Sunday will make in 2.7 are ones he’s proud of, and I can’t wait to see how exactly they get him on board with the crew, because there still is a LOT of development he needs to do before then. 

Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and if you have any thoughts I’d love to hear them. This was a stream of consciousness mess, but I hope it was still valuable nonetheless! Also if you are reading this on the day it was written, I hope we don’t get disappointed by his drip marketing!

[xskyll]

Page 15, for the second time! Apologies to those that saw the version I posted last night with the typo. My days lately have been busy, so sometimes I feel a bit brain foggy. A couple of people left comments on either here or Twitter and it killed me to delete everything. ;_;

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First

[fingertipsmp3]

Maybe I did this to myself but it does irk me when people see me knitting and they ask who it’s for and I say it’s for me and the immediate reaction is “you should sell it” yeah… let me spend at least a week’s worth of my free time making an item I like, want, and would wear just to sell it on etsy, making at most a £2 profit on materials and not being compensated for my time whatsoever 👍🏻

[everywaythatmatters]

Wheel of time season two is so fun so far oh my god the actors are absolutely killing it!!!! I adore Dónal Finn’s Mat and the weaves look amazing and Rand wearing the red coat and literally everything about Egwene and Elayne and Nynaeve is just sooooo good

[tequatls-favorite-spoon]

my art from the na vs art party!! took me a lil bit cuz i wanted to color it and that meant cleaning up the sketches and then i wanted to shade them and hajsksldhaflk

the characters from left to right:

Quinn Teeling - @sunsrefuge

Ambrose Wolfsbane - @commander-gloryforge

Finnegän - @pinecone-enthusiast

Astrëllä - @ohpollenpowder

[apostaterevolutionary]

You know what would be really funny, is if people came together to have an anti-crab day. A day where every user who joined prior to automattic’s acquisition logged off for 24 hours to show that yes, actually, older user retention is important and you should listen us just as much as new users

The users giveth, the users taketh away

[seventh-district]

sometimes it’s late at night and you’re cleaning your room and you come across a few old black and white photos of a young girl and you stare at them for a long minute wondering how on earth they got lost in an old Kroger shopping bag with an unopened pack of cigarettes and a receipt dated 2017.

and you look at the girl in the pictures sat on the floor of someone’s home you don’t recognize, smiling and playing with a set of keys and a tiny part of you feels like it recognizes her but you aren’t sure.

and you flip the pictures over hoping to find some sort of annotation that would give you context and all you find is the year 1964 stamped in tiny font along the edge.

and you flip them back over and time stands still as you realize that the recognition you feel is because she looks so much like you once did and next thing you know your hands are sweating and shaking and you have to sit on the floor because you’re crying so hard because it hits you all at once that you’re looking at your mother.