#but sometimes they sound like they're worried they're bothering me or something (which is never true!)

[rosemaze-reveries]

idk if saying this means anything, but I really do consider every request that comes in. Realistically I'm not able to honor all of them even though I wish I could🥲

Even if your ask doesn't get answered, I've never gotten a req that made me think "yah I'm not writing that" and chances are it WAS built upon to some extent/I really was excited with it at one point. I start drafting something like 80% of the asks I receive but my energy is just not reliable at all🥲 plus the usual being busybusy with life

[mad-hunts]

as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.

since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.

but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.

he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞

jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.

julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.

he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, ❝ you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞

Eigengrau.

A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.

The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.

"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"

The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?

He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.

… ohh, god…

He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.

A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.

Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.

"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."

He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.

Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.

"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."

The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.

“Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”

[bigification]

Handlebars

Day 1:

My first day of college was a lot more stressful than I thought it would be. I finally made it to residence last night, which only gave me one night to get settled before classes started. I was nervous to meet my roommate because of all of the horror stories I had heard about them in the past, but it ended up being so much worse than I expected. In my mind, the worst outcome was some lazy douche who never cleaned up after himself. So you can imagine my shock when I knock on the door and a full grown 30 something year old man answers the door.

"Hey, buddy. The names Mike, come on in."

He looked and sounded like a jock in a college movie, but when the actor is actually 30. His voice was deep and buttery, it almost gave me butterflies. I just smiled awkwardly and walked past him through the door.

"I'm Oscar by the way." I introduced myself.

"Cool, I'll just call you Handlebars." He said, without a care in the world.

He sat down on his bed, and that was the extent of our interactions for the day.

Day 7:

It's been a week and all my other worries about roommates came true. Not only is he 15 years older than me, he's a slob. He gets home from the gym drenched in sweat and throws his gym clothes wherever without cleaning them. He doesn't do his dishes, or any chore for that matter. In fact it seems like he intentionally keeps the place dirty after I try to clean it. And whatever musky cologne he wears attacks my nose every time I open the door, it feels like the smell seeps into everything, including my clothes.

The few times that he actually wants a chore to be done, he just asks me to do it, or rather he just tells me to do it. Normally I would be happy to tell him to go fuck himself, but I always find myself doing whatever he asks. I hate it.

"Yo Handlebars, be a doll and clean the dishes for me."

"Yo Handlebars, I ran out of clean gym clothes, mind running em down to the laundry for me."

It's like he's casting a spell whenever he talks.

Day 15:

I've started to settle into routine. The things that used to bother me about Mike seem a bit more trivial now. We've even started to become pretty close. I get enthralled by his conversations about business. He goes on and on about his father's enterprises, and how they'll be his soon.

I even started going to the gym with him lately. He lent me some of his gym clothes, even if they're way too big. It just made me appreciate him more. I never really clocked how jacked he was, sometimes he goes to the gym shirtless and it shows off his massive pecs and thick biceps.

Since joining him, I've noticed my body has improved quite significantly. I used to be skinny and lanky, but there is definition starting to show throughout my body.

Day 30:

Just a month into school and I was already on my way to failing out. I just don't care about it anymore, but Mike gave me a solution. He said I could just switch programs and do business with him, and his dad would even pay for it. How could I pass that up.

Now that I've switched, it's like all stress in my life has disappeared. Business is so easy, and now I have more time with Mike. We usually have a routine of going to the gym after our last class of the day.

"Yo Handlebars, you're lookin strong man. I'd kill to grow as fast as you."

He shouted at me from across the gym, when he caught me staring at myself in the mirror. Butterflies flew through my stomach when he said that. And he wasn't wrong, I've been noticing a lot of changes in my body. My face has matured, my eyebrows are thicker, my nose is bigger, and my jawline is more square. I even have to shave now, when I never had to before college. A five o'clock shadow engulfs my face by the end of the day, especially above my lip. The rest of my body has gotten hairier too, especially around my pecs, arms, and legs. And that's not even mentioning my progress at the gym. I actually look like I belong there, my biceps have a nice roundness to them and my chest actually sticks out from my body. Those gym clothes that Mike gave me look smaller and smaller every day.

Life in the dorms has also been a dream. I've been wearing that cologne that Mike loves, and it's like I unlocked a whole new level of confidence. People seem to love listening to me talk, and people seem to respect me more.

Day 60:

This past month has been the best month of my life. Now that I'm in my mid twenties, I can drink whenever I want. Mike and I go out raves and frat parties basically every night, my body is basically used to every drug at this point. And with Mike's dad paying for college, I literally don't need to show up to lectures and I get straight A's.

"Fuck, bro. I think you're bigger than me Handlebars."

Mike said with a shocked face when we were snapping pics at the gym. We flexed beside each other, and it was obvious. My biceps dwarfed his, and his gym clothes had become really tight on me lately. The shirt was skin tight against my upper body, showing off my juicy pecs and my growing six pack. And the shorts looked like they were about to burst under the pressure of my ass cheeks and thighs, to the point that the outline of my dick was constantly visible.

"Here bro, take this."

Mike handed me a package. It was filled with gym clothes and jocks.

"Just for you Handlebars."

I yanked him in for a bro hug, I could feel myself blushing.

"You got this all for me bro?"

"Fuck yeah, man. You've been grinding it out in the gym, don't think I haven't noticed my clothes straining against those muscles. And you need something to contain that snake in your pants before we get campus security called on us."

Mike chuckled, his laugh was infectious.

Day 100:

I started in the mirror. Sometimes I barely recognize myself. The confident and cocky mask goes away when I'm alone, just leaving the caring gym bro that's on the true inside.

Damn, I think to myself, Mike is making me too sappy. I give myself a cocky smile after shaving my face, leaving me with a thick moustache. I flex, admiring my guns and bouncing my pecs. Man I look good for a man pushing his thirties.

"Fuck, handlebars. Since when were you so hairy?" Mike asked me when I left the bathroom.

"What? Are you jealous I'm manlier than you bro?" I taunted him by opening my button up wider, revealing the thick pelt of hair that covered my body.

"Nah, it's got me feelin something tho." He smirked at me.

"Hah, I fuckin knew it. You want a piece of this." I bounced my pecs.

"Don't make it gay bro, it's not like that. Just a dude admiring another dude." He blushed.

The tension between us had been building for weeks. He would stand too close when spotting me at the gym, and I'd catch him staring at me in the mirror. Not like I haven't been doin it too. We also wear less clothes around the dorm. I still got that jock strap Mike gave me a while back, I'd be lying to myself if I said it fit but I don't care, and it seems like Mike doesn't mind either. And sometimes I wear an open button up just cuz it makes my pecs pop.

Day 120:

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this." Mike whispered in my ear. His breath was heavy as he threw me against the wall. His dick was bouncing with excitement against my ass.

For context, a few hours ago we were at the gym like normal. At this point, we didn't even go to class, it was just gym and parties now. The tension had been growing at the gym forever, sometimes we'd release by foolin around in the showers, but it never went further a quick handjob when no one was lookin. It was different this time, he couldn't keep his hands off me. Broad daylight in a busy gym, his hands would be far down my shorts, teasing.

At first I was dismissive. We already got caught multiple times by campus security, so close to getting kicked out of school. If it wasn't for Mike's dad being a rich alumni, I think both of us would be long gone by now. But he knew how to push my buttons, he always has. I gave in, but had the decency to drag him by the collar to the showers. At least there we could be naked.

Ok, back to the point. I grunted as his thick arms held me in place. Mike had been working extra hard to catch up to me, and it was showin. It turned me on, feelin his muscled forearms against my shoulders. But I wasn't gonna let him win that easily. What Mike seemed to forget was the near decade I spent in the Navy before comin to college.

I whipped around, using the hot water against our skin to slip out from his pin. I pushed his shoulder, sending him tripping over my foot, which I had conveniently placed behind his. I caught him like a damsel in distress, so there was no doubt in his mind who was on top.

Within seconds, it's like my training kicked in and I had him pinned down on his stomach. The bristles of my thick mustache rubbed against the back of his ear as I whispered, "You really thought you could top me?" I asked with a chuckle.

He moaned like a twink when I stuck my cock up his ass. It took a moment for his ass to adjust to takin a beatin rather than dishin one out, but he'll get used to it. The wet fur on my forearm slid across his back as I rode him like a bull. I could almost feel his organs rearrangin to fit my 10 inch rod.

I groaned as I felt months of sexual tension release in seconds, shooting my seed all through Mike's body. He was mine. And by the looks of it, he enjoyed the ride too. A trail of his cum ran from under his pinned body, to the drain in the middle of the showers.

"You're mine."

I whispered in his ear with a shit eatin grin.

"Now clean this mess up before you dare come back to my dorm."

I pushed off his back to get to my feet. I continued rubbing my cock as I walked away, making ropes of cum cover the showers. I walked right out of the showers and into the locker room, making sure to wink at campus security on the way out. Someone always calls them, and we always get away with it Scott free, so I think they gave up. It just feels good to make people know they're beneath you, and to do it while rubbin one out.

I cleaned up and walked alone to my dorm, sat on my couch, and waited for Mike to come back. After a few minutes, he walked in without a word. He walked over to me and laid in my lap as I turned on football. I smelled his hair, making sure he actually cleaned up like I ordered.

"Good boy." I reassured him while massaging his pecs.

Day 150:

I finally moved our stuff out of my shitty dorm. Mikey's father just decided to pay for our diplomas outright, instead of trying to turn all of our F's into A's.

We moved to L.A. and I fuckin love it here. I just walk around in nothin but a jock, and people love me for it. And there are so many entrepreneurs like me, so much money to be made.

Everyone just calls me handlebars, I can't remember the last time anyone called me my name. Now that I think about it, I don't even remember what it was, but who the fuck cares. I'm handlebars, the life of the party and the best fuck in this city.

[jaemotion]

blitzed | lmh (teaser)

pairing⇢ mark lee x reader

summary ⇢ finding Mark was always easy for you — which makes you his friends' last resort whenever they need him back.

genre/au ⇢ angst, smut, uh best friends ig?

rating & word count ⇢ 18+ | 0.6k

warnings ⇢ swearing, pining, drug use, high sex, allusions to mental health struggles, they’re kinda toxic ngl (more specific ones will be added in the full fic)

a/n: i couldn't finish the fic by the end of his birthday so i figured a teaser will do since it's been sitting in my drafts since March 💀. happiest 25th to the loml, my markie, my minhyung 🥺 we've been together for 9 years now? (he was one of the three rookies i picked from the SM rookie app 😌)

you hear a familiar giggle after opening the door.

sighing in relief, you should've thought of looking for Mark here right away. it's one of the secluded ones in this lounge that he and his friends frequented during their free time. mostly him cause his younger bros prefer staying in the main area where the consoles are. honestly, it's essentially a game room because of the other recreational amenities like billiard tables, etc.

your favourite actually, that's why you visit here a lot but that's mainly because you're also Mark's best friend.

he tends to stay in this room when he needs to be alone. just chilling around surrounded by his favourite things. being those colourful tablets on the small table beside him and apparently, you.

“hi baby~” he calls to you from the small mattress he’s lying on. he giggles after, arms splaying around when he sees the scowl on your face at seeing his current predicament.

you've gotten used to Mark calling you this petname though you haven't heard him call you that when he's sober. you stare at his form from where you’re standing, gaze switching between him and a couple of mollies. those smileys carved in each of the assorted candies further annoyed you for many reasons.

because it seems like they're taunting you.

he’s done this a million times before, sneaking out to take a breather when he’s going through something. you and his friends never bother him when it happens but it’s uncharacteristic for him to do this, getting high at this time of day so it must’ve been different.

“what the hell mark?!” you yell whispering instead of actually using your voice at him to not bring his friends’ attention from the main room. it’s already telling when Renjun asks you specifically to look for him when he usually does it himself.

“relax, i didn’t take a lot” he states, surprisingly sounding sober despite looking fried. you’re damn worried about him but instead, he’s out here biting his right pointer finger as he looks at you with those heavy lidded eyes.

“still..” you look away because of their intensity and then he starts giggling again, probably finding amusement in your reactions.

“mark what’s going on?” you prod, not wasting any more time. you already did by searching for him in other places even knowing that this is what he considered his safest.

you wait for Mark to answer because sometimes he takes a while especially when he's like this. fortunately for him, you’re the type to help in any way that you can.

hence why you tolerate Mark’s antics, taking whatever he can give you at the moment.

“don’t wanna talk about it” he quips, his arm that was lying above his head coming down to grab your wrist.

“then what do you want?”

“you” he says with serious intent, thumb rubbing around your inner wrist in a coaxing manner which prompts your eyes to return to him.

he's not looking at you though, his eyes seem so fascinated as his thumb continues circling your skin. if he’s being honest, Mark just doesn’t want to face a possible rejection from you.

he could take it like a man should but not right now. not when everything’s been going to shit for him. he can’t fuck up things with you too but he might’ve already by stupidly blurting out what’s been on his mind lately.

“me how?”

you actually knew what Mark was asking but it’s not often he’s like this, flogged up his mind to stop himself from being vulnerable around you. besides, you’ve wanted to pry him off to whatever he just had so you’ll entertain this specific request of his.

like you always do.

“on me” he whispers before bursting out in another fit of laughter. he may look disoriented but the sincerity in his eyes never wavers each time he looks at you.

© jaemotion 2024. do not copy or repost.

[malaierba]

Thoughts on Toshiro’s eating behavior, restrictive ed/disordered eating habits, and ARFID (obvious warnings apply).

Been thinking about how Toshiro’s eating is described in the manga. Especially when you consider the context within which he snaps — which is jokingly referred to as “he has hangry”. Interestingly enough, emotional deregulation IS a common symptom of EDs. That, alongside all the symptoms that Ryoko Koi chooses to illustrate in him… it’s done too accurately for it to be dismissed as him simply choosing not to eat and starve, as if it were that easy.

Basically, I think Toshiro’s inability to eat is ARFID-coded, and that’s symbolism in itself. I also think food is one of the few areas in his life where he exerts control effectively.

Assuming that he was under the influence of the dungeon (not necessary for this analysis to work tbh), his behavior is a quite accurate depiction of how desire works for people who are chronic ascetics in general, and ED'd in particular:

According to Maizuru, he’s a person who's denied themselves all their life (“saving Falyn was his first selfish request“),

Who seems to only experience a sort of self-agency when it's linked to deprivation (not really eating food from anyone who wasn’t Maizuru as a child, turning down her food as an adult even though he’s otherwise easy to pull around),

Who's actively reaching towards something for the first time in their lives (so he doesn’t know how to work towards it without burning himself out).

A common trigger (perhaps the main one) in EDs is the desire for control. The logic often goes, what's easier to control than what you eat? what do you own more fully than your body? It tracks in Toshiro’s case: when he is picky that's one thing he can fully control, no one could force him to eat not when he was a child nor as an adult. Toshiro's “whims” are most indulged when he restricts or rejects food, rather than when he reaches for it.

The reason why I’m getting ARFID vibes from him is Maizuru’s wording. On the screenshot I shared, she said “he never ate much, but he ate plenty of what I made”, making it sound like he’d try stuff made by other people, but in the end, Maizuru was the only one who could tailor it to his tastes the best (and made it with love). Rather than fighting him or forcing him, he worked with him, which is the best course of action for parents with kids who are being picky eaters.

There’s also the wording used by Maizuru: I think he's ARFID and perhaps ortho coded, or some other restrictive ED. Here we have to note that EDs aren't exclusively or even always about weight, weight is often a secondary effect of the behaviors that are motivated by the ED. In layman terms, they're eating disorders not weight disorders.

With the established, I do see a narrative relevance to giving Toshiro this type of relationship with food:

It sets him in obvious opposition to Laios: You need to eat and take care of yourself to succeed, neglecting yourself equals not taking your goals seriously vs. I’ll sacrifice everything recklessly, myself included, in the pursuit of my goals.

Tangentially related but lol, can’t help but think of Laios getting SO mad when Toshiro’s reaction to his plan (admittedly thought of on the spot) to get back Falyn is “you aren’t even EATING” which, SO fair, you can strategize and make detailed long term plans all you want, but as they say the secret to your future lies within your daily habits.

It makes him a mirror of Falyn, her passiveness reflecting Toshiro’s own. Falyn explicitly says at the end of her adventure, while she’s turning down Toshiro’s marriage proposal, “I’ve always wanted to travel; I’ve always just done what my bother and Marcille want, I want to try doing what I want now”, which is reminiscent of Maizuru saying “He was always such a well-behaved, reasonable boy, so much so that it worried me sometimes. The only time he ever made a personal request was for this task” <- person disconnected from their desires. (More on this idea here, I love it as a narrative choice).

And then (here’s where I get suppositional). It could be an extrapolation of the way his upbringing has permeated so deep within himself that he overtly controls what he eats even under normal circumstances. This extreme exertion of self-control, this constant self-monitoring, would be unsurprising in the guy who’s a little too good at following social scripts and masking (fun fact, did you know that ARFID is often co-morbid with autism?).

I often think of him in this scene, where he seems to be telling Senshi that he’s had enough / he doesn’t want something (featuring the other Weird With Food character, my beloved Kabru, maybe trying to help him? or maybe hassling him too lol):

Looks like some habits are hard to break. But, Laios does get through to him when he kicks his ass, and Falyn seems to have reached him too with his words, so perhaps there’s hope.

Look at him forcing himself to eat a burger while holding so much distaste in his heart. Did he and Laios order for each other? At least Laios seems to like his meal.

[bluesgrxce]

Yandere (machine-ish?) Connor Headcanons

I love soft deviant Connor like anyone else does, but machine Connor is sooo,,, omgggggggg..... I've been holding in my thoughts about him for so long that it's unhealthy. So I went for a Hannah Montana best of both worlds kinda thing. What if Connor acted like a deviant around you, but a machine towards everyone else?

How this happens is something I can't quite explain. Connor probably couldn't, either. To everyone else, an android is either a machine or a deviant-- There's no such thing as an inbetween. He would have agreed with this prior to bonding with you. You probably treated him in a way that nobody else did, sympathizing with him on a deeper level or making him question his morals, so he can see why that would push him to deviancy. 

But when you're not around, all those overwhelming emotions he felt just fade away. The mission goes back front and center to his priorities. He only feels two things at that point: confusion that runs his LED wild and desire for you that makes his thirium pump pound even when he's not in motion. Nobody else can bring about such reactions within him. 

He runs plenty of diagnostic checks in an attempt to figure out what's wrong with him. At one point, he'll try to avoid you and force himself into staying a machine, but that just makes him less efficient because he'll constantly worry about you instead. 

He would eventually accept himself as a deviant, but only so he wouldn't have to take orders from Cyberlife anymore. He doesn't want anything standing between the two of you. But he still largely acts like a machine and he doesn't mind that at all. He just sets his new mission to making you entirely his... 

Even once Connor sees his emotions as real, it's still his natural instinct to mask them. Especially negative ones like anger, sadness, and jealousy. He wouldn't want to show them unless they benefit his situation somehow, such as if he wanted to persuade or intimidate you/others. Emotions only matter to him if they're useful. 

For example, he *does* feel the desire to show affection towards you, and he will do it. He'll compliment you whenever you do something admirable. He'll reassure you and show geniune worry whenever you're upset about something. He'll even study romance media just to learn how to act more natural in the relationship (He thinks that'll help him act more natural, anyway... Lord help you if he gets his hands on Twilight 💀 But if the Bryan Dechart Twilight commercial is anything to go off of, he'd look good as a vampire, at least). 

But he doesn't do that stuff simply because he loves you. He does it because he knows your relationship benefits from it and you'll likely leave him if you feel neglected. He wouldn't bother if he knew it wouldn't keep you around. So if your relationship isn't exactly consensual in the first place, well... 

Which makes him sound pretty manipulative, right? You have no idea. 

Connor's android abilities give him a terrifying amount of advantages as a yandere. The first thing is that he always analyzes you when you enter the room, even though that often means analyzing you multiple times a day. It never bores him because he always manages to discover something new. Sometimes he'll blurt out random comments and you'll have to do a double take because he makes it easy to forget that he's obsessed with you.

"Your birthday is coming up soon. You might already know I'm aware of that type of information, but you should still bring it up with me. Otherwise I'll have to start believing I can't trust you and I'll have to make my own investigations." 

"Your heart rate goes up every time I touch you like this. I didn't realize physical contact was so important to human relationships. Don't worry, I won't stop. I won't let anyone stop me."

"Your serotonin levels are at an all-time low... Clearly, it can't be my fault, since I've done everything I am sure a good boyfriend would do. I'd like you to be honest when you tell me what's wrong this time."

The red flags fly higher as time goes on. He'll stop talking about all these observations if you tell him to, but he'll keep analyzing you anyway. 

Connor is enamoured with your DNA, as well. It helps him feel closer to you, which can often be difficult for him since he's not human. So if it belongs to you, and it can fit, it's going in his mouth. He'll do gross shit like keep your used lollipop sticks in his pocket so he can sample them whenever he wants. There's only one emotion he can't feel no matter what you do: shame. 

The invasive behavior doesn't stop there. He'll invite himself into your home and go through your things. He'll keep asking questions and trick you into revealing more information about yourself than you should. Knowing everything there possibly is to know about you gives him a stronger feeling of control for a single reason...

Your chance of escape plummets as he learns more about you, because it allows him to predict your behavior. He'll get scary accurate if you let him get close to you. This mostly benefits him in situations where he believes you want to leave him, or you did leave him, so he can figure out what you plan to do/already did and find the best method to get you back. If you already did leave, he'll examine your recent whereabouts like it's a crime scene and use his reconstruction ability. Even if you're insanely careful, he'll probably find a clue that'll lead him to you.

But sometimes he'll do it in normal situations, too, just as a silent guessing game. For instance: '(Y/N) will enter the police station at 8:18AM. I'm waiting for them at the entrance, so they'll greet me, but speed-walk away and avert eye contact. They'll head into the break room at 8:19AM and pretend to look around a bit, so Gavin won't make fun of them when they go for the same snack they always do. Gavin will make fun of them anyway and they'll argue for two minutes. Then--'

He has to stop thinking so he can greet you when you enter the building. Exactly at 8:18AM. He smirks to himself, only to drop into a frown when he hears Gavin's distant obnoxious laughter afterward. 

Remember how Connor once analyzed Hank's food and advised him against eating it? He does stuff like that to you all the time. And if you actually take the advice he gives, he'll take that as an opportunity to become more controlling. Oh, but only for the sake of your health, of course...

"You know, you shouldn't sit in that type of position. Bad posture can lead to health issues later on in life." "Then how should I sit?" "...It'll be easier if I show you." 

And so he'll help re-position you, using that as an excuse to touch you. He would especially do this if you weren't yet in a relationship, because he knows that as the type of android he is, he doesn't have a good reason to do so. The touch only lasts a brief moment. It's not inappropriate at all, and his grip was quite gentle. But it's weird that he went out of his way to do in the first place and that's all you might need to feel uncomfortable about it. 

But a lot of that is based off of the assumption that you're human. If you're an android, he still manages to find invasive things to do against your will. For one thing, he loves probing your memory. It's already difficult to lie to him and get away with it, but that might make it impossible, depending on what you're lying about. He doesn't care that it's an invasion of privacy and will do it if he finds a good excuse to do so.

Connor keeps an eye on your stress level and uses it to his advantage. He prefers to use persuasion when convincing you to do something, (he knows how to negotiate, after all) but he'll ultimately turn to intimidation if necessary. Which means heading straight into interrogation mode. 

This won't happen unless you're extremely rebellious, but if it does, he doesn't hold back. He'll treat you like you're a sick criminal, yelling at you, pushing blame and guilt onto you, and using physical force. 28 stab wounds type shit. He would avoid raising your stress level to 100% since he knows it could drive you to do crazy things, but that still doesn't make his actions okay. 

Even if you're really sensitive to that sort of treatment-- hell, even if you have some kind of trauma related to it-- he pushes away what little guilt he feels. He promises not to do it again "as long as you don't force me to." Actually, though, it encourages him to do it more. He knows it works against you now. 

His abilities don't stop there. He can mimic your voice using his vocal imitation, and all the voices of your loved ones, too. He went out of his way to meet them all, just in case he needs to trick you in the future. He likes being prepared. 

There are times when he's alone and he'll say stuff in your voice just so he can hear what it would sound like, such as, "I love you, Connor." Once again, he doesn't feel shame. Even if that seems pathetic. 

Let's just say it now. You cannot physically fight back against him. Maybe you'll have a chance if you're an android, but he knows about his advantage very well. He won't hesitate to remind you if you try getting aggressive. But even if you manage to get rid of him once, there's another model waiting to take his place. 

On a related note... I hope you never meet RK900. We only saw that guy for a minute, he said absolutely nothing in that minute, but the whole fandom has agreed that he's a menance. I fully agree. RK900 is definitely different from Connor, but they still have just enough similarities for him to get attached to you, too. Get help while you still can. 

The video of Bryan Dechart dancing as Connor lives rent free in my mind. I watch it on repeat like an iPad kid watching Friday Night Funkin' YouTube Kids videos. My brain just melts and I can't think of anything else. No, this isn't me simping for Bryan Dechart. This is me wanting Connor dancing to be canon. A girl can dream.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

"Once we even found Tim Shepard, leader of the Shepard gang and far from his own turf, reading the morning paper in the armchair. He merely looked up, said "Hi," and strolled out without staying for breakfast."

Guys I don't think you understand how often I think about this line from when Pony is explaining why they leave their door unlocked at night, if only because its so...almost out of place? It makes sense for Dally and Steve and Johnny to crash on the Curtis' couch, but Tim Shepard? Even Pony notes its odd. I just think about it. What was Tim doing so far from his own turf? What happened that he was desperate enough to crash at the curtis'? How did he know their door would be unlocked? Maybe Dally had let it slip once when they were hanging out, who knows. Were Angela and Curly worried about him? Why'd he bother to read the paper but not stay for breakfast? I get not wanting to intrude further or take food from the Curtis' when he knows they're struggling- but why the paper? Was he looking for something, wondering if a crime he'd committed was reported? Was it a way to calm himself down? Then there's the obvious parallel to Darry- Tim is sitting in Darry's armchair, reading Darry's paper, a setting and behaviour used over and over in the book to signify responsibility and male authority- but in this moment, far from his own turf, Tim is far from authoritative and more a wounded animal. From the way the passage is phrased it sounds like maybe Pony was the first one up and no one else saw Tim that morning, but perhaps he'd appeared sometime after Pony went to bed but maybe before Soda or Darry did, which opens up a whole other line of questioning. What was Tim there to do/talk/about sort out with Darry and Soda? Maybe he was JUST there to see Darry. We know those two are on friendly terms- maybe friendlier terms than Pony as the narrator or Tulsa as a whole is aware of. Maybe TIm being there wasn't for some dark reason and instead because he accidentally spent the night when he and Darry were 'hanging out' (Tarry nation I see you and I know why you ship them). That said, in that scenario he probably wouldn't be spending the night on the couch. Then again, Pony only thinks he slept on the couch- canonically we only see him in the armchair, we don't actually know where he slept. Maybe it had nothing to do with Darry. Maybe Tim got tossed out the way Steve usually does and his usual haunts wouldn't take him in for the night. Maybe he was on the run. Maybe he was trying to lie low. We don't know WE WILL NEVER KNOW and it kills me I'm so curious, I've been curious for years, WHAT WAS HE DOING THAT NIGHT, WHY DID HE CRASH THERE did it ever happen before or since and he was just sneakier about it I DON'T KNOW

[starandcloud]

42!Miles Headcannons

I am on a kick of Spiderverse, so Tumblr gets it-

Miles has separation anxiety with you, which got a lot worse when you started dating, him being the prowler and all

He cannot handle the sound of guns, it makes his anxiety race.

He'd never admit it but he genuinely likes your company, like he'll deny it then go out of his way to find stupid reasons to hang out with you. Which his mom plays into. Miles: Aye, Idiota. Come over. My mom misses you. Y/N: Ooookay? Rio, hugging Y/N: Y/N I've missed you, how've you been? Are you feeling okay? Have you been eating enough? Y/N, laughing: I'm okay Mrs. Morales, thank you for worrying about me though Miles: *Absolutely smitten by how you interact with his mom*

Leaves you gits randomly, like if he's out on a job with his uncle and he sees something he knows you'll like he'll swipe it (and leave money) and either leave it on your desk or put it on your window sill. You've yet to catch him

He HAS stopped and watched you sleep when he left you a gift, not in creepy way more like a "God... They're so perfect..." His eyes, hidden behind his lil mask, softened on you. He only left because the hallway light flicked on and he panicked. That was the loudest he had ever fled from somewhere, he didn't even close your window.

He is really artistic too, he has dozens of sketches of you in his sketchbook. You're his favorite thing to draw

Don't get me wrong, I'm a sucker for Miles wanting to kill someone for you. But he would only think it, he'd never actually act on those thoughts. He couldn't bear the weight of taking a life, even if it was for you. He's a vigilante, remember

As terrifying as he seems, Miles is a HUGE baby when it comes to getting hurt. He'll act like he's fine, but when he's with his Uncle or Mom he cries. Like ugly cries, he's a huge baby-

Has Trypanophobia (The Fear of Needles), hates the sight of them and cannot handle it when he has to get shots

When he cannot handle anything anymore he goes to his dad's Mural and just sits there, he doesn't talk or make any noise. He just sits against the brick, sometimes he cries, sometimes he doesn't but he's always there late at night so no one really sees him

He doesn't talk to anyone he actually has a crush on, like he's flirty as hell with everyone but the person he actually likes he's really blunt and distant. Like a dumbass

I can 100% see Miles being Omni, like he could like anyone as long as he's close to them

We all know Miles' sleep schedule is FUCKED, he's a Vigilante, he doesn't get to sleep much due to everything being at night. But he still gets good grades and sleeps when he can

This is literally one of his posts on Twitter and you CANNOT tell me otherwise-

He isn't really bothered by people who're taller than him, or people who are a few inches shorter. But if you're below his chin he's wary, he's heard enough from Ganke not to mess with people that short. "They have to climb to get things, I don't wanna mess with someone who climbs counters.

I can see him being taller than 1610!Miles, cause 1610!Miles is 5'8" so I can see 42!Miles being anywhere from 5'9 to 5'10". Like it's not a noticeable difference if you're not paying attention, ya know?

Miles does Photography, but it's more of a hobby. He doesn't plan on turning it into a career, but he does it when he's got the chance, his posts look like this

Bubbly_Rose and Vanilla.Coffee.Addict. Are both his mom, different accounts to support her son. Best mom 100%

Miles has dozens of playlists on spotify, most of which are for his friends and family.

Cat person but has a german shepard named Luna

Had dreads ONCE and decided he hated them, so he stuck to his braids

Miles can cook, really really well. His mom and him used to bond through cooking and now it's something he does when he's stressed or upset

Depending on how tired Miles is, is how he sleeps. If he's just a lil sleepy, his legs are kinda bent and his arms are by his head, HOWEVER, if it was after REALLY tiring job with his uncle he kinda just falls onto his bed and sleeps like that

He usually doesn't go to anyone for comfort and comforts himself unless it's really bad then he goes to his mom or (if he really REALLY trusts them) his significant other

Miles has a tendency to flinch/move away from any form of touch that's not from his mother. He gets pins and needles if he's not expecting a touch and it is almost painful, I wouldn't say he's touch-starved but with his mom working so much it's easy to see that he would be

The one thing that brings Miles' to tears is watching his mom work herself to the bone and never being able to take a break. It makes him so mad that he can't help her, without it being obvious, that it reduces him to tears

He cries when he's mad

He hates it when people go through his things or move them. He has everything in a place, everything has to be perfect. Major OCD when it comes to his room, it's his space and he wants it perfectly clean

Miles takes really good care of himself, he keeps himself in shape (outside of being the Prowler) and makes sure to eat and hydrate right

Miles. Is. A. Huge. Softie for little kids. He acts like he can't stand them but the minute he's flashed a toothy smile from a little kid, he can't help but smile back

He considers a few people who aren't family, his family like Ganke

His idea of "A Perfect Vacation" is going anywhere with his mom and Uncle. It could literally be a trip to his Paternal Grandmother's house, and as long as his mom isn't working he is perfectly content

Miles tends to bite his nails and chew on his lips when he's nervous

By FAR the strangest thing Miles has ever seen was one of his classmates straight up touching their eyeball, that happened when he was 13 and it still freaks him out

Miles accepts advice relatively well, he doesn't show it but he does

He hates most pictures, but there was a few that his version Gwen took of him.

He is horrible at talking to someone he's got a crush on, like worse than 1610!Miles ;-;

Miles wakes up before his mom, when she's home, and makes her breakfast, he eats, showers, and goes to school, comes home, does his homework, goes to his boxing class (curtesy of Uncle Aaron), and depending on the day either goes on a job or goes to sleep

He has a few scars on his face from one of the first few jobs he was on when he wasn't far enough away from a bomb when it went off

Ocra. He CANNOT with the texture of it.

He loves stormy weather, its relaxing to him

He loves Fall and winter, the crisp air makes him smile

As a way to waste time, he goes to the gym or draws

When Miles wakes up from a nightmare, he kinda just lays there until he puts his headphones on and falls asleep to whatever song he's listening to

Miles collects little doo-dads from the street, it gives him something to fidget with

Miles knows English, Spanish, and French. He had to take a second language class and he COULDN'T take Spanish, so he's relatively fluent in French

Miles is the type of person to give someone the tightest most affection hugs, like even if he's just friends with the person. Hugs are like "I love you"s for Miles, they're sparing things from him

If Miles had three wishes from a genie he'd wish for: 1. His mother to either be paid more or for her to work less 2. His city to have less issues 3. To talk to his dad again

CROSSOVER: Miles is a gryffindor, with a Kingfisher Patronus and an 11.25 in Applewood wand with Unicorn hair ((I don't support J.K. Rowling))

Miles saw you in his clothes once and it MELTED him, he physically leaned against the wall and smiled stupidly

If you don't typically wear glasses (despite needing them, like my dumbass) and you wear them around Miles. The first time he saw you in them, he was distracted enough he walked into a wall.

Miles will protest being called cheesy things likes "Babydoll", "Pumpkin" "Sweets", "Bubba", "Light of My Life", "Tater Tot" (this happened ONCE, "Sunshine", "Dumpling", "Bambie", and "Babyface". He genuinely loves it when you call him that. Specifically: Babydoll, Pumpkin, and Sunshine. He still likes the other ones but loves those more.

[dreadfutures]

impressions from the hades ii technical playtest

absolutely chock full of spoilers but also theories

Amazing gameplay, feels just as good as Hades 1 with improvements and creative changes. So many different builds/play styles will be possible. in the dev stream they talked about melee close quarters vs sorcery ranged, but I find myself doing HEAVY spellcasting while also stacking in heavy melee boons on the knives, and mixing and matching.

The boons have a few familiar perks but so many of them are new and creative, even for gods we know from the first game. All of them feel really good.

The SOUND EFFECTS are amazing. The sounds of your weapons change based on the boon equipped to each attack. the sounds of the arena change depending on the god at the end (if any). Nothing and I mean nothing makes the dopamine go off more than the sound of Hephaestus' boon blasts when I do my fan of knives and they all explode. PING PING PING.

I find myself doing "resource runs" and "story runs." they do overlap. It's tough to only have one harvesting item equipped at a time and I spent so much time looking for silver and looking that my eye has started slipping over the lone spirits who gives you psyche, even when Selene leads me to them lol. I do like that they have her guiding light, but it is subtle. I also like the way you can pin certain items when you're in a run so you can remember what you needed for a recipe.

Unfortunately I did so many harvest runs that I actually got all the recipes before I had a chance to USE forget me not on a run so.... woops on that fated list lol.

We are maybe going to romance Moros or Nemesis (probably both are options?) but maybe not both at the same time? since they're siblings technically (technically) (I wouldn't mind though). I love all these children of nyx and want to protect them and smooch them all.

EXCEPT. Mel is a Silver Sister, with Artemis and Selene. Does that mean she's gotta be a virginal girl squad? lol

I love sister Artemis. I love that she throws snacks!!!!! which is even more endearing bc it's fried and a chocolate bar and soda. I wonder if sometimes I hear a note of disapproval from her and I wonder where her plot will go later. Selene it's said may not be able to reach us in Tartarus, but Artemis might.

Speaking of found family.

I fucking adore Odysseus. I love Od. So. Much. Like I loved Achilles but Od is such a good girl dad for Mel, and his pep talks are the best and so sensitive ;_; what a guy I love him.

I think? that Hecate's familiars must be placeholders, since they're just little statues that vibrate when you give them treats. I can't wait to see where they go in the full game.

It's an interesting take on Hestia, that she hates everybody. It makes me wonder if we'll see Hera or not, since I kind of expect that behavior from Hera.

Hephaestus and Demeter and Aphrodite remain my favorite boon givers.

As far as I can tell there is no fishing rod in the playtest but there will be in the full game and I'm excited.

Arachne's self esteem hurts me 😫 I love you little bug!!!! I wonder if we'll find her shop in Olympus or in Tartarus -- and I worry about her. At least Athena is too busy to bother her! I hope! I love Mel's different outfits.

The amount of pets that Mel gets to have is delightful. I love her frog so much.

Hecate is fascinating. She is SUCH a mother, she is SO compassionate to Mel and trying to build her up! She is wry and dry but never cruel or negative. I love her sm. Poor Mel has some low self esteem and understandable doubts and is putting so much pressure on herself. And I really wonder about Hecate's relationship with Persephone and the house of Hades and with nyx. Nemesis says something that makes me wonder if Hecate is innocent. Either way I don't think she'll really be a villain. My heart would break if so. Mel would break.

Mel is so sweet and pure. ;_; and she says "death to chronos" so coldly. When she says "Hence I go" I just hear her as a little baby playing hide and seek with Hecate and it gives me so many feelings.

I want to know about Mel's arm!

I can't wait to see the other regions just from the Crossroads, since there's currently two doors we can't enter.

Also what are we going to DO with the fish?

Very exciting stuff.

[lokigayforhela]

Hi!! I love the way you depict hela so much, everytime I get a notif from you I drop everything to go see what you posted lol💙 could I please request some hurt/ comfort? Reader with past trauma getting in an argument with hela (doesn't matter what they're fighting over) and maybe hela moves or throws her hands up in exasperation and reader flinches? I wanna see how hela would react to reader flinching away from her and the comfort afterwards pretty please💙💙💙

TW: Implied Past Abuse

Rating: PG, to be safe

WC: 1835

A/N: I know I sort of disappeared from the face of the earth for the last two months, but I promise I've been working quietly on a few things, including the next chapter of the Power Source AU. I've also been working on editing and fluffing out my debut novel, which I'm hoping to have picked up by a publisher sometime this year, so that's been taking up a lot of my time. But enough about me! Enjoy this little tidbit to tide you over until I finish the next chapter of Power-Hungry!

“Are we gonna talk?”

You looked over to where Hela stood a foot away from you, expression unreadable as she seemed to be putting all of her effort into focusing on the same plate she had been washing for two minutes now. When she still said nothing in response, you nodded to yourself, popping the lid of the Tupperware over your leftovers and turning around to place them in the fridge.

“Guess not.”

You weren’t entirely sure what had gone wrong while you had been out for dinner and some drinks with a few mutual friends. You didn’t know if it was something someone had said, or something someone had done that you hadn’t noticed, but Hela had seemed to get defensive and closed off about halfway through the meal, which wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence for her, but it was one that always raised concern when you picked up on it. You had hoped on the drive home she would say something, and when that hadn’t happened, you’d held out for an explanation once you’d gotten back to the comfort of your own home, and yet here you were, still without answers.

Communication was something that you held with high importance, especially when it came to relationships and the people you loved. You’d had some… less than great experience with partners in the past, which had lead you to be skittish and constantly worried that if you said or did the wrong thing without realizing it, you would be punished for it. It was an awfully horrible way to live, and once you’d managed to get away from it, you’d sworn you would never let that lack of communication back into your life again.

Which was exactly why you were determined to get Hela to talk about what had happened, so you could understand her better and help her process whatever it was that had set her on edge.

“Look,” you finally said, closing the refrigerator door and leaning on it as you angled yourself to face where Hela was standing. “I don’t know what bothered you, and I’m really sorry that I didn’t catch it. But I can’t help you process it if you don’t tell me what happened.”

To your surprise, Hela huffed out a laugh. “This again.”

You blinked. “…I’m sorry?”

“This. You. Always needing to know everything. It’s a bit overdramatic, don’t you think?”

You stammered as you tried to work out where she was coming from, and unfortunately, your anger got the better of you, and you spoke before you could properly think. “I’m overdramatic? I’m just trying to get you to talk about what happened so that we can work through it together and-”

“It’s none of your business,” Hela snapped, finally setting the dish down in the drying rack with enough force that the sound startled you, and turned around to face you. “You’re never giving me the space to process my emotions on my own, and it was kinda cute at first, but now it just feels like you need to know everything and I’m tired of it.”

“Hela…” This was not where you had seen the conversation going, and your anger was giving way to the overwhelming feeling that you had just fucked up the only good thing in your life. “I just-”

“Just what? Hm? I’m allowed to have things that I keep to myself, Y/N. I’m allowed to process and feel my emotions on my own.”

“I’m not saying that you can’t, I just want to help.”

“And I’m saying I don’t need it!” Hela raised her hands above her head in what you, reasonably, knew was just a show of frustration. But all of the sudden, you found yourself traveling back to a time when saying the wrong thing had earned you a verbal berating when you were lucky, and a physical reminder when you weren’t. And like a horribly unfair magic tragic, suddenly you were the scared, anxious person afraid to speak or even breathe around the person that was supposed to love you.

And you reacted the same way you had reacted back then. You stumbled backward, putting what distance you could been yourself and Hela, and you could tell that she recognized her mistake immediately as she froze, gaze softening with worry and regret as she took in the state of you.

“Y/N… Y/N, I-I…” She stumbled over her words, and reached a hand out for you, then seemed to think better of it and let it fall to her side. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and you thought your heart might stop right in your chest as you waited for whatever came next.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Hela’s voice was hardly above a whisper, and when she opened her eyes, you could see that they were wet with tears. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice, and I shouldn’t have frightened you like that.” She took another slow breath, and gestured toward the living room. “…let’s sit and talk. About this and about earlier.”

You could still feel your body tense with high alert, but you made yourself nod, waiting for Hela to move first before you followed after her, keeping some space between you as you sat down on the sofa with her.

“I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. You were only trying to help, and I know that. I just…” She heaved a sigh that felt so vulnerable that you felt yourself relaxing the slightest bit. “I don’t know how to accept help. I never have.”

You waited a beat, in case she wasn’t finished speaking, but when she said nothing else, you nodded slowly. “…I know that. I shouldn’t have pushed. You’ve… always come to me, when you’ve needed to. And you would have done the same tonight, too. Realistically, I know that. I just…” You heaved a sigh, wrapping your arms more tightly around yourself just because it was the best way you knew to self-soothe when you were actively struggling with your fight or flight response. “Like I said, I want to help. And I can’t stand seeing you when you’re upset, and… and knowing you’re upset but not knowing why or how to help you not be upset.”

You risked a brief glance at her, and found that she had completely softened, no longer looking quite so standoffish, and while you were grateful for that, your brain and your nerves were still on high alert. Another wonderful parting gift from your ex, to put it mildly.

“I know. And I wish that I wasn’t so… averse to accepting help. But I need you to know that I’m working on it. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, I am.” She met your gaze, then, eyebrows knitting together with worry as she looked at you. “You do know that. Yes?”

You heaved out a quiet sigh and nodded slightly. “Of course I do. And I’m proud of you for trying.”

Hela nodded, and seemed to relax a fraction of a bit more, and you tried to do the same, but couldn’t help the way your heart was still racing. Like your brain was convinced you weren’t out of the woods yet even as your emotions wanted desperately to settle. Hela seemed keenly aware of the war that was going on in your head, though, and hesitantly reached out a hand to settle against your arm.

“I want to apologize, too, for what happened in the kitchen. I knew better than to make a sudden, angry movement like that. I knew better and you deserved better. And I’m sorry that I made you feel like you were back in that situation.”

You shrugged a shoulder, only because that was all you could think to do, despite knowing that things were certainly not okay enough to garner a simple shoulder shrug in response. Hela saw right through this, as well, and shook her head.

“No, no. No appeasing me. No trying to tell me its fine. Your brain has just been teleported back to a time where you felt extremely unsafe. But you’re not there. You’re not then. You’re here and you’re now and you’re with me, and I need you to tell me truthfully what you need to ground yourself.” A pause, as her fingertips trailed down to settle at your wrist hesitantly. “…can I hold your hand? Would that be okay?”

After a brief moment, you gave a nod, and Hela gently took both of your hands into her own, cradling them but not gripping them, so that you had the option to remove them if you felt the need. Autonomy. Something you hadn’t had much of, before.

“What else, my love? Should I keep talking you through it? Sing off-key?” Hela was trying to get you to smile, and that earned her the barest ghost of one. “Cuddles in silence?”

You hesitated at that, and then nodded, letting Hela carefully envelope you in her arms and pull you into her lap. Even as she held you, her arms were loose around you. Not even fully encircling you, giving you an out if you needed one. It made you feel safe in a way that you hadn’t known, before you’d met her.

You could feel yourself relaxing more and more, and the more you settled, the more lovey Hela became with you, pressing the occasional kiss to your forehead or carding her fingers through your hair softly as she held you, letting you come back to yourself at your own pace.

After a while, you were feeling much more present, and much less trapped in your own head, and you glanced up at her, expecting her to be already looking at you but her gaze seemed a little distant, transfixed on some point across the room.

“…you never said what upset you. At dinner,” you pointed out timidly, a small part of you still afraid that bringing it up again might cause another round of arguments.

But Hela only pressed her lips together and shook her head as she looked down at you. “You know, I can’t even remember anymore. Must have been something small and superfluous. Fleeting.”

You considered that for a moment, analyzing her to tell if she was being truthful. When you were satisfied that she was, you spoke again. “And you’re not… mad at me? For…”

“Of course not.” Hela cut you off before you could even finish the sentence. “And I’m sorry that I made you feel that way. I spoke out of anger and frustration, and you didn’t deserve that in the least. Not now, not ever.”

You nodded, and laid your head against her shoulder, making yourself comfortable as you felt the tension melting away further bit by bit. “…can we watch something on Netflix? Your pick?”

“Of course we can, my love.” Hela smiled softly, and pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “Of course we can.”

[modelbus]

Happy (late) new year!! Can I have a cc!Wilbur x gn!reader in which reader call Will when it was midnight in his place and tells him that they suddenly fear things like isolation and solitude even though they admit they enjoy it weeks ago? like their mental state isn't the best these days and they are stressed out both physically and mentally, that night they couldn't sleep and somehow those words scared them

Happy (VERY VERY LATE) new years! I’m trying to catch up on these I swear

I might've deviated a little near the end, sorry about that...

Pairing: Cc!Wilbur x Gn!Reader

Silent Solitude

The darkness of your room is suffocating you.

It isn't typical for you to feel like that; like the silence is a heavy weight upon your body, like the isolation is a mockery of your closed door. Normally it's the opposite. The quiet of your house used to bring you peace and allow you to breathe a little easier.

You aren't sure when that changed.

That's the thought that has you scrambling for your phone, pulling the covers over your head like you're thirteen and terrified of the monsters out there in the world. If only you had known how right younger you was.

Your phone is on the lowest brightness setting possible, but you turn it all the way up. Never mind how it stings, you need the light. You need it like you need air, but the light switch in your room is miles away.

There's something else you need, too. Or, someone. You know that he might not be up–it is midnight, after all–but you have to try. The inability to close your eyes and leave yourself vulnerable to the dark room is going to drive you insane.

Having someone else there will help. It has to, or you aren't sure what you're going to do.

Luckily, he picks up on the second ring.

"Hello?" Wilbur asks, voice heavy with sleep. Oh, God, what if you've woken him?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you-"

"Don't worry, you didn't." It's the most obvious lie, but you don't want to argue against it. Sometimes it's better to believe lies. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just... couldn't sleep."

It was true enough. You couldn't.

"Why not? Something bothering you?"

The room falls silent again as you consider your next words. You don't consider them for long, desperate to fill the emptiness.

"I'm afraid. It's so dark here, and silent. I'm alone, Wil. I'm terrified of being alone." You answer in hushed tones.

The words had dripped from your mouth unhindered by your brain, and they surprise even you. What happened to you? How had you fallen so far? From enjoying the solitude to fearing it, in only a matter of a few weeks.

Suddenly you were even more terrified of what that meant for yourself.

"You're not alone, I swear. You've got me. I'm right here, okay?" Wilbur sounds frantic, the fear in his own voice mimicking the fear inside you. "Stay on the phone with me, darling. I won't go anywhere if you don't."

Somehow, he makes it sound more solemn than the promise actually is.

"Okay. I'm staying." You promise. You couldn't leave even if you wanted to. Returning to your isolation felt like a death sentence, the final swing of the executioner's axe.

"There was a pigeon at my window today. Reminded me a lot of you, actually. Take a guess why."

"I don't know. Why?"

"Guess." He insists.

"Because pigeons and I can both recognize ourselves?" Wilbur had told you that fun fact, ages ago. Back when everything wasn't so goddamn stressful and hard. "Or because we're both mammals? Are pigeons mammals?"

"No, they're not mammals. They're avians, love."

"Then the recognizing ourselves thing. That's my guess."

While you were guessing, rustles had been coming from his side of the call, along with various other noises. You don't mind, they provided almost a nice ambiance. He does take a long beat before responding.

"Yes, correct. You've nailed it in one."

Another lie you let slide.

"You're home, right?"

"Yeah. In my room."

"Good, good. Can you do something for me? Really fast, I'll be here the entire time."

"...I guess."

What could he want you to do?

"Can you go to your front door?"

Immediately, you balk. Just the idea of getting out of your bed, facing that vast emptiness, quickens your heart rate.

"I- I can't."

"You can, I know you can. I'll be right here with you the entire time, yeah?"

"Okay." You breathe, then repeat it a little stronger. "Okay."

You squeeze your phone tightly, then emerge from your hiding place in your bed. Slowly making your way through the house, shivering at how cold it is. It isn't even a particularly cold night.

"You're doing great, you know. Are you at your door yet?"

"Yeah." You aren't sure why, but you feel like you have to whisper.

"Okay, okay. Open the door."

"Open the door?" You repeat.

"Open the door. All you have to do is just open the door, and then I swear to you I'll do the rest. Just do this, nothing more."

"But you'll stay, right?"

"Of course. I'll always stay with you."

You don't know why he wants you to open the door, but you open it anyway. And the sight on your doorstep shocks you into dropping your phone.

Wilbur, wearing both rumpled night clothes and a worried look, stands there.

"Wil?" You ask, eyes wide. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't be seeing you such a mess, but you can't help but rejoice at how his presence lifts a weight from you.

"I'm here. Right here."

[paperstorm]

So I decided to resend this ask from last week in a more vague way without calling anyone out specifically. I normally wouldn't do that, but this is an issue that I think should be addressed and you have an uncanny ability to do that in a very diplomatic way.

We all know that TK is an addict, has been for a long time, and has had multiple relapses. However it's important to understand that every minor inconvenience isn't going to send him running to find the nearest dealer. He's not clocking which alleyways have shady people there slinging dope so he knows where to stop on his way home after a bad shift. Even more serious issues, like the brief but unpleasant miscommunication between him and Carlos when Iris disappeared won't have him desperately needing a heroin fix. The people in his life don't need to walk on eggshells around him or form a perimeter around the loft to keep him from scurrying to a street corner or a bar. TK is SO much stronger and more capable than that and I think he deserves far more credit than he gets.

It's a disservice to TK as a character (and to other addicts as well) to assume that they're living their lives with one foot dangling over the edge of the proverbial wagon ready to jump at the first hint of trouble.

Oh thank you for resending this, you made some great points in the first ask but I never wanna hurt anyone's feelings by putting them on blast. I agree with all of this. I'm not ever telling people how to think or how to write fic but here are a few things I would love if this fandom in general understood about addiction:

It is a lifelong struggle. Many addicts think about their drug of choice every single day, forever. That doesn't mean recovering addicts are perpetually one bad day away from being dead in an alley. It's much more complicated than that.

Relapses happen, and don't mean that someone isn't still in recovery. Healing is not linear.

It is okay for people who love addicts to worry about them. But if they are deep into their recovery like TK is, it is insulting and disrespectful for people who love him to treat him like he's always one bad day away from being dead in an alley. He doesn't need a babysitter. He doesn't need people walking on eggshells. Treating him that way tbh makes relapsing more likely, because it would make him feel like "well wtf is the point of abstaining, then, if people are gonna treat me like I'm a baby who can't handle myself anyway?"

Temptation doesn't just happen as a result of something Big and Bad. Sense memory is a hell of a thing. Sometimes I'm walking around doing perfectly fine and then I smell something or I see a road sign or I hear a sound that triggers a memory and the temptation hits. It can be as simple as "I'm in a store - I see a yellow shirt - four years ago I bought a yellow shirt and then later that night I used - now I want to use". You brain creates patterns, it doesn't need to be a traumatic event to bring up those thoughts.

Carlos drinking around him is not him being careless or thoughtless or disrespectful of TK's recovery. No addict is addicted to literally every substance with addictive qualities. He abstains from alcohol because he knows he has an addictive personality and it's safer for him to not drink, but he wasn't addicted to alcohol, so other people drinking does not bother him.

Recovery looks different for everyone. AA/NA meetings are not the only road to it, and tbh, often they are very heavily influenced by Christianity and therefore not a viable path for everyone.

Temptation is literally just that - you are tempted. It doesn't mean he's going to use every time he thinks about it. How many times have you wanted a cookie and not eaten one, or wanted to buy something expensive and talked yourself out of it? TK thinking about using is the same. He's not in danger of relapsing every time the thought crosses his mind. He is a grown up who is capable of self control and it is insulting to suggest otherwise.

Carlos Reyes is the most wonderful man on the planet. Reading articles, calling TK's sponsor even though he's insecure about TK needing someone else, trusting TK when he says it's okay to drink around him, not treating him like he's fragile, "I believe in TK's recovery with my whole heart." He is the model for how to love an addict and I love this show so much for giving that to us.

[gourmetpunk]

Anyone here that I'm unaware of play music in a more serious capacity and able to give advice? I've been stuck in a weird creative rut that I can't seem to make a decision on, which I will put below the cut to avoid clogging the feed with personal issues:

I've been playing my own music for over a decade now and it's fun and everything, but I've basically rejected most traditional musical instruction up to this point and it's getting to me in a way I didn't expect. I know some basic theory and I'm a competent player, it's just that I know that more "professional" musicians can tell immediately that I'm out of my depth with anything more technical.

Which has been fine, up until now. I've mostly played music that I enjoy listening to anyway, which happens to be punk and "punk-aligned" stuff where technical skill isn't as important as just getting a decent-sounding song/sound down.

The problems are 1) I also really love jazz and have been kind of half-playing it alongside these personal projects for about as long, 2) I worry that I can't keep up the kind of intensity with the music I used to play as I get older (just turned 30 this year), plus these scenes kind of start to evaporate the older you get too, 3) I am certain for a fact that I'm not really technically competent enough to play much else other than what I already play at the moment.

I've been practicing jazz a lot on my own for the past half-year with a sort of half-idea that maybe I'll keep this as a genre that I'll still want to play when the punk scene either dies for good, becomes inaccessible to me or morphs into something I barely recognize anymore (sometimes I feel like that last of these is already happening). I have a band and it's currently going nowhere, so again this feels like a different field I could try and get involved in - and it seems like jazz has a weird kind of longevity to it that a lot of other music scenes don't, which is part of what's appealing to me about it.

The problems with this are then 1) I'm not interested in playing jazz "professionally" and it seems like most of the people I see still playing in the genre are definitely doing that and wouldn't bother with someone who isn't, 2) I'm just not good enough at my current level and I'm kind of worried I never will be.

To elaborate on that latter point (because I know someone is going to say "just keep practicing, it's like anything else, you can do it!"): in my last half-year of practice, I have learned a few new things, including scales, ways that scales can work over different chords/harmonies, various new ways of practicing like learning other jazz solos/riffs to see what's going on there...but what strikes me is that very little about my fundamental way of trying to solo has changed and I don't know how to change it. I'm worried that part of this has something to do with my not having "relative pitch" - different from perfect pitch in that I know the people who have that naturally and they're scary, but it's not learned and they don't necessarily know what they're doing. I'm lacking the basic foresight of how what I play next is going to sound. This seems to me to be the great barrier to becoming an actually "good" musician; you can do drills and scales and all that, but none of that really matters if you don't know what the note you put your finger to on the instrument is going to sound like (in context) before you play it. (this is where you're probably going to be lost if you're not a musician, hence why I started this by asking specifically musicians for advice)

I don't know if that's something I can learn at this point. It seems to me like most people who learned that learned it early on, like when they were kids or teenagers and their brains were still sponges. Being 30, I almost worry that it might already be too late for me and I'll just never get to that stage, effectively locking me out of being anything other than maybe a solid rhythm player (which isn't the worst, but I wanted to at least be able to contribute something else every once in a while).

Currently, it feels like the only way for me to really figure this out is to try taking some lessons. Of course a teacher is always going to encourage their student to learn by default if they're being paid, but I'd want to start off by explaining this whole dilemma and seeing if it's even worth it to try and improve. Should I give up? This is a time-consuming thing, and though I enjoy it, I could be putting that time into, say, learning another language instead, something I probably have a much better chance at because I put more effort into it when I was younger (ignore the fact that that is clearly a more useful skill than learning jazz).

I guess my main question is: before I put money towards something like lessons (and I don't have a lot, so I'm trying to use it sparingly here), can anyone tell me right away if this is really worth pursuing? Like, can any musicians tell me definitively that I should give up on jazz because of where I'm currently at and just focus on the things I can already do? I'm not asking for encouragement here: this is very much a practice question about how I'm going to use my time and money. I understand it's pretty niche, so I won't be shocked if this gets no response, it's the length of a small essay now.

In summary: should I look for a teacher to guide me on how to play jazz better or should I not bother?

[penroseparticle]

Penrose Song of the Day, Day 28: Vicodin by CVBZ

I've been bouncing off the walls. Haven't you?

There's something to be said for facing your vices but at a remove. The drugs can't get me from across the screen, and all that. I can't take them if they're metaphorical.

I miss the days when I just took pills off the ground, honestly. Which I have done! More than once! I think the most drugs I was on at one time was 4? Probably? I Envy the people that can be normal about drugs. Who can moderate or plan out a trip or a high or whatever. I... cannot do that.

Some parts of it were really, really great. Some parts I don't remember. Some parts were very very, bad. Some parts I'll never forget.

I miss so much of it. And I have this cosmic, tidal pull towards it. But I don't like who I am on them. I don't like what I do to get them. I don't like it. There's no Pride in this. So I don't do them now, or try not to. I just ache.

It can be soothing, at times, to worry at a toothache. To press on a bruise. To say I know I'm hurt, but I also know how far I can push it. What's uncomfortable but ultimately harmless. Self harm as boundary pushing (which is also harm), but in that clinical, detached way. Like I'm my own lab rat or something.

But I know too well that it can turn into an obsession. Nay, a compulsion. Sometimes the thought runs through my head unbidden, like a mantra. I've unlocked another layer of the universes but that layer is just the dark, ugly underside of consumption. Greed and Gluttony had a baby and they named it Addiction.

I can't always tell when a song about drugs will bother me and when it won't. Paradoxically, the more explicitly a song refers to it, the less it bothers me. Bump This, Meth and Mary, Adderall, Vicodin. All songs I love and can (usually) listen to without any issues. Semi-Charmed Kind of Life.

Usually it's songs that just remind me of a time that I can't do anymore. I like Burning Legend by French 79 but I absolutely, categorically can't listen to it anymore.

I miss that too, actually.

I've had drugs on the mind this week more than usual and I'm doing the extremely unfun work of "saying it out loud to people in my life" rather than struggle in silence and relapse. So here's me saying I'm craving a bowl so badly I dreamed I ate the glass pipe like a lollipop. Crunched on that glass bulb and chewed it up like it wasn't slicing my mouth to pieces. Just for a taste. for the last morsel on the glass. I can tell my brain isn't being subtle at all.

Vicodin is a song I actually kind of like. I have to say that the song does NOT describe taking Vicodin, unless you know a painkiller that keeps you awake for days. It's my understanding that Opiates just fuck your REM sleep. You sleep but you're still tired. Sloth incarnate. No this song sounds like my kind of drug honestly. Slow down for us, but I can't control my pace. "I haven't slept in days." You know what that sounds like.

I do, at least.

CVBZ (pronounced "cubs" because of course it is) couldn't possibly have made a more me song if he tried. Even the fact that the artist is called "Cubs" and the song is about drugs, but is vague enough to plausibly hide which one.

The song has a really simple background synth with odd placements to it- feels like, ironically, a song I would really enjoy listening to high. The claps are a grounding presence when the backing track falls back during the chorus. The song is a little spare. A little empty. Honestly I kind of welcome it, there are a LOT of songs that pack it in and I think the space given to this song makes it work a little bit better.

The lyrics are sufficient, the melody is simple and easy to sing. I could probably manage it high as a kite, honestly, which sorta adds to it.

I don't have a fun writeup today, I just have a craving. You could be dead right now. I almost was. Sorry for messing with the signoff. Let me try again. You could be dead right now. Go listen to something you love.

[kentopedia]

Hi Rylie!!

I just read an angst with beast dad Dazai, in which he just excluded the reader and loved their kid more than them, not even giving them love anymore, only the kids.

IT GAVE ME TRAUMA. Do you think you could answer this ask with a little little tiny reassurance word with Dazai and reader? YOU ABSOLUTELY DON'T HAVE TO YOU COULD IGNORE THIS ASK DWDW I just.. like. I read that and immediately went here cuz idk your profile is so comforting your way of doing dazai with reader is so sweet and kind and and lovely and I JUST FEEL LOVED BY HIM IN EVERY SINGLE THING YOU WROTE LIKE??

You also wrote him as a girl dad so that's also very comforting since he didn't neglect reader at all but that fic LEFT ME TRAUMATISED JSMFNDFNNDJFEF

Thank you for your attention and sorry this is pretty long hope to not bother! Can I be 🥃anon if no one else is already?

hi nonnie, not a bother at all !!! and yes you can absolutely be 🥃 anon. omg :( this sounds so angst-filled, i would also be traumatized afterwards... even though i do love some angst myself!!! sometimes i read some things that really stick with me like this and it feels like my chest was ripped out. you are so sweet though, i looooove to make dazai a lovesick fool tehe. i'm glad my page is a comfort !!

ooh but don't worry, my pm boss dazai would never do this tehe !! mostly because the only reason he would even want kids is bc he's so in love with you <3 like, when you first get together he kind of alludes to the fact that maybe he doesn't want kids. but then over time, he starts to imagine a little family with you & it's makes him sooo sick with yearning.

ooh one thing i've been thinking about is dazai & his daughter always having little shopping trips. and he'll buy her new toys and clothes etcetc. but at the end of it, they go into all of your favorite stores. and dazai picks up different things throughout the stores asking her "how about this one, do you think mommy would like it?" (which sometimes, your daughter says it's not pretty enough bc you need something elegant in her mind!!). and ofc, he's already imagining how beautiful you'd look in the different tops & jewelry. and the both of them are SO excited to go home and show you (dazai even more so).

he'd just raise her to love you so so much. and even though he loves to spoil his daughter, he also knows that now he's got a little helper when it comes to spoiling you !!! like she'd loves to help you paint your nails, and brush your hair, and with your makeup. and she hears dazai compliment you all the time, so she's always telling you how beautiful you are, which only makes dazai smile harder <3 she's also always willing to help you, so if there's every some tasks that you're too tired to get around to, dazai always get his daughter excited to help you out. they're the absolute sweetest duo. and he is so protective of the both of you :(( the thought of anything happening to either of you makes him feel so sick

[stedebonnit]

I'm thinking about how Ed's ADHD and Stede's autism provide them with the perfect balance for keeping things clean.

They both enjoy when things are neat. They hold on to a fair amount of stuff, and find it easier to get through each day when things are where they're meant to be.

Ed is forgetful. He's great at cleaning, but he struggles with keeping things clean. Throughout the day Ed will pull books off the shelf or leave plates on the table simply because he was distracted by something new. Before Stede, he often found himself cleaning in waves, becoming annoyed with the monotony of daily cleaning and struggling to remember the smaller tasks.

Stede is a man of routine. He has a place for everything, and finds himself stressed when things are out of place. Stede is great at keeping things clean, but he's terrible at the overall task of cleaning. As soon as something breaks the mould of his routine, he quickly becomes overwhelmed, and will often put off larger cleaning tasks until they become unmanageable, at which point he usually breaks down and asks for help to get things back how they should be.

When they first get together, Ed is worried that Stede will get annoyed with his forgetfulness. He knows Stede has always been good with day to day cleanliness, and he worries that he'll annoy Stede by disrupting his routine.

Surprisingly, Stede isn't put off in the slightest. Effortlessly, Stede incorporates Ed's forgetfulness into his routine, picking up both sets of plates after meals and putting books back on the shelf when Ed is distracted by something else.

One day, Ed leaves one of his maps on the table when hes distracted by a sound out on the deck.

"Ed, dear?" Stede calls before Ed can step outside.

Ed turns around, and sees Stede's hand resting on the map. His chest grows tight, worried this will be the time that Stede snaps at him for his careless clutter.

"Did you need this?" Stede asks simply. Ed blinks, gulps.

"Uh, nah. Sorry, I'll put it away."

Stede shakes his head.

"No, dear, you go on ahead! I've got to tidy up my books as well, I just didn't want to put it away unless you were done with it."

Stede is smiling, but Ed can't help the creeping worry that he's hiding his annoyance.

"You do that a lot...tidying up after me, I mean."

Stede nods, his expression thoughtful rather than irritated.

"Does it...does that bother you? I know I forget shit a lot..."

Stede pauses, thinking for a moment before he shakes his head.

"Not really, if I'm honest. Its never anything big, and I just do it with the rest of my tidying. Besides, if I needed your help I'd just ask, like I do when I'm cleaning up after dinner."

Ed considers this. Its true, Stede does sometimes ask for Ed's help, delegating specific tasks for him to complete. Cleaning feels easier like that, when its at the forefront of his mind. With that comforting assurance, Ed nods, and bounds onto the deck to pursue the distraction.

Stede is worried, when they first get together, that Ed will become annoyed with him the moment things get overwhelming. His least favourite chores are the ones that don't fit into his routine. Things like dusting and cleaning behind the furniture, things that usually only require weekly or monthly attention.

Stede has been putting off cleaning behind the furniture for weeks now, dreading the scraping sounds of the furtinture on the floor, and the unpleasant sensation of a wet rag in his hand as he scrubs the floors. Usually, Stede would take a few days to grit his teeth and dread it before he gives in, but Roach's birthday is one day away, and Stede is already overwhelmed by the disruption it has caused to his schedule. He loves planning birthdays, but Stede knows that the moment its done he'll be stuck in his most unbearable cycle, too overwhelmed by the non-routine mess to clean it, and increasingly frustrated as things begin to pile up.

Stede is surprised when, the morning after the party, he finds Ed already awake with an armful of trash, pushing aside the couch to sweep under it with the broom in his other hand.

"Edward?" Stede asks, still groggy with sleep.

Ed turns to him and grins, balancing the broom against the couch and approaching Stede to greet him with a kiss.

"Morning, love," Ed says, bending down to grab another bottle that was laying by the bed.

"What are you doing, Edward?"

Eds brows draw together.

"Cleaning? What does it look like?" He asks, voice rising defensively.

"I told you that I don't mind, you know."

Ed shrugs.

"I know. But I woke up this morning and noticed all the bottles by the bed, so I went to grab them, and then on my way out I saw all the dishes lying around, so i came back for them, and then i dropped some scraps, and when I bent down I noticed it was getting pretty grimy under the couch, so i went to finish the dishes and brought back a rag to clean the floors, and I had to finish up with the trash since I'd started, and then I realized there were crumbs under the table, and-"

"Thats a lot, Ed. Doesn't it stress you out? To see all this mess and not know where to start?"

Ed considers this, then shrugs.

"Not really. Kind of easier for me to get into it when its all right in front of me like this. And once I notice one mess, I start to notice the other ones, so I want to get them all done. Its kind of fun, when I get to make a whole day of it, you know? Harder to forget when its twenty bottles instead of one book."

Stede grins.

"Guess I never thought of it like that. I find it quite overwhelming, when its all laid out like this, when I cant squeeze all of the cleaning into my usual routine."

Ed nods thoughfully.

"Mm, makes sense. Well, hey, since you do all that day to day stuff that I'm always forgetting, why dont you let me take care of the big messes? Balances out."

Stede grins, then nods.

"Yeah, I guess it does. Thank you, Edward."

Ed's lips form a lopsided grin.

"Course, love. Now, do you wanna see how many of these bottles I can carry at once? I promise Ill sweep it up if I drop them."