#i am now a sometimes drug enthusiast

[maybebabyplease]

you are my green-enjoying mutual and my tagging-characters-by-their-initials mutual and blond-men-apologist mutual and. uhh i barely know you idk what else .. oh also my LA-apologist mutual my gluten-free mutual my jannik-sinner-enthusiast mutual my former-drug-enthusiast mutual HAHA idk why i phrased it like that uhhh you are my right hand arm..man..and my bestest friend and my confidant and most importantly !! my silly rabbit 🤪💋🐰!!!!

JANNIK SINNER ENTHUSIAST MUTUAL none of u know......this is why everyone should watch tennis like me and mads and @mblematic i just know tumblr would be losing its collective mind over that skinny lil white guy and his parmesan cheese sponsorship

i don't even have to apologize for LA i just have to get people to stop only going to the west side..........

silly rabbits together! just like penelope and calliope! love you love you looooove youuuuuuuuuu

what mutual am i

[honeekyuu]

Hello!!! I’m back to ramble again 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

TALK TOO MUCH Y/N I FEEL YOU. “He wasn’t looking at me!” TRUER WORDS HAVE NEVER BEEN SPOKEN POOKIE. CHUBBY READER MY BELOVED. THANK YOU FOR THE FOOD!!!! Do I not math? Absolutely not it makes me want to rip my hair out but for this fic suddenly I love it.

“Oh you’re unwell.” Thank you Suna. You know what would make it better? A kiss- WHAT WHO SAID THAT??? BAHAHA IT’S SO FUNNY AND I WANT TO EAT IT. THANK YOU FOR BLESSING US WITH MORE SUNA CONTENT.

Also not believing Suna only wanted a photo bcs he wanted to affirm her. He definitely wanted to see a chubby goddess and was like “GUYS. NOW’S MY CHANCE. 🥳🥳🥳🥳!!!!” ALSO HIS REACTION LIKE ABOUT TO BARK??? FIND ME A MAN LIKE THAT. GUYS PROGRAMMERS (not me, please I refuse to make another app I can’t-) MAYBE WE NEED THIS APP FR. WE ALL NEED A MAN TO BARK AT US WHEN WE’RE INSECURE.

Tattoo Suna 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 sorry he lives rent free in my head and the urges to draw get to me occasionally. if you can’t tell I am writing this ask as I read the fic so I can yap about my favorite things bcs I have the memory and attention span of a goldfish. 🧍🏻‍♀️

SUNA YOU CAN’T BE CALLING THEM BABY ALREADY!!! ILLEGAL. FOUL. SIGN ME UP FOR KITA. THEN I CAN CALL HIM SWEETHEART. WHAT WHO SAID THAT???

Suna doesn’t pull??? LOSER SUNA MY LOVE!!!! I FORGOT THAT YOU WERE A LOSER SUNA ENTHUSIAST!!! LOSER SUNA MY LOVR 🥴🥴🥴🥴 THE INAPPROPRIATE THINGS I HAVE TO SAY.

I don’t think you understand how much I’m already in love with this fic. Suna wasn’t in my top ten (I’m sorry Suna Seijoh 4 have my heart so you can’t be too 3-) but then I read “Take the edge off” and he bumped himself up- point is. Your characterization of Suna makes me fucking feral. And listen, I may be asexual but…

SOMETIMES SMUT IS HOT OKAY GUYS??? LIKE I WANT TO BE DESIRED LIKE THAT. BUT LIKE NOT AT THE SAME TIME??? I CAN’T EXPLAIN IGNORE ME-

Your fics are my drugs fr! Like addicted to how you characterize everyone. They’re all feral and I love it.

This is for everyone who’s made it this far in my rambles; You’re deserving of love no matter your size, shape, skin color, acne, imperfections, and sexuality. Everyone deserves love and that includes you. Drink water, eat food, take a shower or bath to decompress. It’s good to take breaks from your stressful day and I’m encouraging it actually. If you need to stop in your shift to go to the bathroom to breathe for a few minutes then PLEASE DO THAT. I will fight if anyone gets upset at you doing that. I know I’m a stranger on the internet but incase no one has told you today. I love you, you’re doing your best even if your best today was “less” effort than it was the day before or than it will be tomorrow. Point is. Even if all you did today was eat food or read something I’m proud of you and I love you.

Okay ramble over!

Love you guys <333

-sincerely bakery anon 🍪

PLEASE BAKERY ANON THESE ASKS ARE SO BEAUTIFUL AND I SMILE GIGGLE KICK MY LITTLE FEET READING EACH ONE I LOVE THIS SO MUCH PLEASE CONTINUE WITH THIS

[diapion]

A Long WET Journey!

Ever Since I Was A Child I Have Peed My Bed. I Have Had Periods Of Dryness, Sometimes For Weeks Or Months Bed It ALWAYS Returned. During My Mid And Late TEENS Was The Worst. Fortunately I Was Drinking In My Late Teens So I Would Blame The Alcohol For My Wetting. I Was Treated By Doctors And Psychologists But It Was Never Correctly Diagnosed Or Stopped. About The Age Of Sixteen I Tried Using Adult Diapers But They Leaked So I Tried Wearing CLOTH But I Had To Wash The Diapers And My Sheets When They Leaked. As An Adult I Went To A Urologist Who Gave Me Drugs That Actually Made My Bedwetting WORSE. When I Told Him About It He Said He Didnt Have Any Other Drugs Or Exercises And I Stopped Seeing Him. My Mom Always Said I Should Just Accept It And Wear HUGE Cloth Diapers And Plastic Pants Which I Did For Years. Then When They Developed Adult PULL-UPS I Tried Them. They Worked Fairly Well But By Now I Was Used To Sleeping In Wet Diapers And Wet Sheets. I Began LIKING My Wet Pull-ups And When I Leaked I Slept Better And DEEPER. Now I Enjoy Wearing Wet Pull-ups And Wet Sheets In The Morning. I Cant Believe It Has Been More Than FIFTY FIVE YEARS Of Bedwetting Enjoyment After All The Shame As A Child. I Am Now A PROUD PROFESSIONAL BEDWETTER And DIAPER ENTHUSIAST. STAY WET And COMFORTABLE All You DIAPER LOVERS!!!

[verdemoun]

In honor of our recent conversations

How's the gang with modern drugs and such? I'll count alcohol into that category. Now that it doesn't Have to be a part of life, it can just be a fun little addition. Who's the first to discover the new options? Fruity drinks and clubs that sell overpriced but spectacular drinks they've never thought possible?

(whos the first to make pot brownies /j)

Does anyone ban alcohol from their household, haunted by memories? Does anyone fall into addiction and is saved by the gang?

tw recreational drug use

Arthur walked into a bar, asked for whatever, and then chuckled with glee upon being served a fruity-ass cocktail he proceeded to scull before realizing it was 2.5 standard drinks. Feeling the immediate sensation of 'I drank that way too fast and am feeling it', he ordered another and marvelled how dangerous it was they could make alcohol taste not only good but delicious. He remembers little else of the night beyond that point, but was assured he ordered three more and then made an ass of himself as usual.

Bill Williamson is the one who actually is a bit of a beer connoisseur. Learning to appreciate and savour different types of beer is, in his opinion, what stopped him from spiraling further into alcoholism. Craft and local beer enthusiast who will actually know about hops and the harvesting of hops. He is very partial to a fruit-infused sour beer. (mango sour my beloved)

Arthur and Charles ban alcohol from the house. Not officially but they try not keep whiskey/spirits in the house because the two of them will finish a bottle in a night and not remember a thing in the morning. They are binge drinkers and they are aware of it.

Karen has a long unending love affair with SSRIs. She needs them to function. She cannot handle life without a drug reminding her brain everything will be okay. On the bright side it reduces her drinking.

Strauss deserves some love he's actually very passionate about spirits, syrups and liqueurs and can recreate virtually any cocktail in his house. Sometimes a man gets home from work and needs to recreate a drink he paid way too much for at a kitschy little bar but make it a triple.

Kieran and Javier attempted to make pot brownies and accidentally hotboxed the house. Bessie got home to the unmistakable smell of weed, Hosea snoring his guts out after being practically glued to the couch, and Javier and Kieran still in the kitchen just eating the brownie mix they didn't bother cooking. They also failed to open the windows so within 10 minutes of trying to help her poor boys + husband she was also very high and ordered pizza. Annabelle had to come babysit them all.

Davey convinced Mac to do poppers one night when they were out at a bar. Mac proceeded to have a panic attack while coming down and sent a frantic 'in case i die i think i love you' to Bill. Bill, who was several hours away, also panicked and asked Hosea to go find them. Mac got kicked out of the bar and was so emotional he actually hugged Hosea meanwhile Davey was calling him a pansy.

While not a timewarper Mary-Beth ended up having a bit of a laudanum habit after being prescribed it to help her sleep. In 1911 after hearing what happened to Bill, Javier, Dutch and then John, she found herself both heartbroken for the gang but also suffering with anxiety and paranoia that she would be outed as a former VDL and hunted down the same. She ended up very much addicted and reuniting with Reverend, both as an old friend who was also very saddened by the end of the gang but also helped her sort her shit out. Some say you can still find laudanum bottles hidden around Shady Belle.

[grimmjowkurosakidrake]

In a night or in a day, in a vision or in none

1/2: Dreams

Rating: T

Fandom:The Walking Dead (TV)

Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier, Daryl Dixon & Merle DixonCharacters: Carol Peletier, Daryl Dixon, Merle Dixon

For a small Caryl bingo

Summary:

On his dirty couch, Daryl closes his eyes and opens them immediately after. A cloudy haze around the edges of reality telling him that he’s dreaming.

Daryl is six the morning his big brother declares, with his derisive and booming voice. “My soulmate is a little bitch.” Casually, as he drinks a morning beer even when he has to go to school with Daryl at the back of his bike, in just a few hours. Their dad hasn’t been home for almost three weeks and even if he were here, he wouldn’t take Daryl to school and Daryl wouldn’t want him to, either.

Daryl wants to tell him that he shouldn’t call girls names like bitch and cunt or whore, because they don’t like that, sometimes they get angry and will call you names back or even hit you, but other times, they get sad enough to even cry, and that is worse.

Daryl, with all his little boy bravado, also wants to tell him to stop drinking so early in the morning if he’s planning on driving his baby brother to school at the back of his bike. Instead, he takes a healthy sip of the sweet milk his big brother warmed for him over the stove, generously adding some cinnamon and honey and asks, very quietly. “Why?”

Without even looking at him, Merle asks, “why what, little brother?” before scowling at him and ordering to eat his eggs because he’s just too fucking skinny.

Gathering all his courage, Daryl takes one long sip of his milk and helps himself to a big bite of eggs on bread before elaborating. “Why is she a bitch?”

Hearing his small, clearly scandalized tone of voice, Merle laughs at him with gusto, hitting him on the back and calling him a bitch for worrying about his own language. “She’s a bitch because tonight she was dreaming about a trip to fucking Disneyland.” He growls then, suddenly resentful. “Asking me to get on one of those stupid rides. Can you imagine, little bro? Here I am, working my ass off at the night shift on a fucking bar at fifteen to put milk on your sippy-fucking-cup and eggs on your bread and she’s dreaming about stupid Disneyland trips. What do you say. Isn’t she a bitch?” He ends up his tirade, pointedly looking at him.

Feeling the warmth of the definitely-not-a-sippy-cup on his hands, and watching at the black bangs under his brother’s eyes, at the tense rictus of his already wrinkled face, Daryl gulps loudly and nods enthusiastically “Yeah!” He agrees. “She’s a bitch and she doesn’t deserve you!”

Witch ends up being the right answer, because Merle regales him with the biggest smile, he’s ever seen on him without the help of some kind of drug. “Fuck yeah, baby brother!” Whoops the elder Dixon with a big, manic grin brightening his tired features. “We Dixons don’t need fucking soulmates.”

Daryl cheers him on, even when Merle reaches for his second beer of the day, looking up at him with bright blue, grateful eyes. Dixons don’t need soulmates, even if Daryl really wants to meet his.

Daryl is fifteen and just started living with Merle now that he’s back from the army and more or less ready to take onto the responsibility of caring for his teenager little brother instead of their alcoholic, abusive father.

Daryl is fifteen and he doesn’t really own a bed on the trailer his brother could afford after losing their family home on a fire that also costed them their mother and sanity while being dishonorably discharged from the army, with no pension to speak of and the mechanic’s assistant job his dirty name allowed him to get when he finally decided to start working.

The couch is lumpy, old and it smells like someone died there. Someone probably did, Daryl doesn’t know. But what he does know is that he’d at least seen Merle getting head on that couch maybe two or three times while coming back home from school early, there are even some suspicious stains on the damn thing to prove that not even the place where his underage brother sleeps is sacred to Merle when he wants to get off. It’s disgusting, but it’s better than going to sleep with bruises on his face and an aching, bleeding back from his father’s belt.

At lest now he can easily fall asleep.

Now, on his dirty couch, Daryl closes his eyes and opens them immediately after. A cloudy haze around the edges of reality telling him that he’s dreaming.

There’s music on the background, the old kind, with the melodious voice of a lady singing in a language Daryl doesn’t recognize. It’s nice, much nicer than the music Merle likes to blast way too early in the morning; the kind of music that speaks about fucking easy women or about being a man by the standards of men who are just like Merle but never like Daryl.

He’s dreaming of a little yellow room, illuminated by a big, floor-length window, decorated by long, silky, soft looking pink curtains. He’s resting on a small, single bed, full of soft pillows, at least five more than he owns for his raggedy coach.

Under the window, sitting by a sewing machine, two women laugh as they work some fabric.

An older lady, dressed in a dark green, vintage looking dress, smiles as she retires her long, silver curls from her face and reveals her warm, blue eyes, completely fixated on the fabric under her fragile hands. By her side, a teenage girl, laughs as her bare legs pedal away on the old sewing machine. She’s dressed on really cute high-waisted yellow shorts under a cropped pink hoodie, her red curls are all over her face and she doesn’t bother to move them away from her youthful face like her older companion. Even so, Daryl can still see her beautiful blue eyes, can still see how big she smiles.

When the girl sets her eyes on him and the world spins a little around them, Daryl knows, that this is his soulmate. This isn’t just a dream he’s having about a beautiful, older girl that seems to come directly from his deepest fantasies.

This, for the first time is what fairy tales had been promising for years, is what his brother had been warning him about ever since Merle himself turned fifteen and called his own soulmate a bitch for the first time.

“Hi.” She smiles, getting up from her seat, completely ignoring the woman beside her and instead focusing wholly on him. Daryl gives the old woman on the sewing machine one fast glance to see her frozen in time and then tries to focus on the girl who’s smiling right at him.

It’s difficult, it’s really hard, because he doesn’t know where he should set his eyes on when he’s looking at her; There’s the legs, the long and creamy expanse of her bare legs as she walks up to him, and with a sudden burst of heath warming his entire face, Daryl realizes that she’s probably taller than he is, maybe even older; There’s the small expanse of her bare stomach in between the high-waisted shorts and the cropped hoodie, skinny and firm, not much of a curve there, she’s more skinny than curvy and Daryl finds himself surprised by how much he likes that, because when talking about women and their assets, Merle always talks about how good and how sexy a nice set of big tits are, paired with a round ass and a tight, narrow waist to hold onto. This girl doesn’t have much of a waist to speak of, and Daryl is not brave enough to look at her ass or her tits, even so, the way her clothes fit her is cute, is nice, he can imagine holding her close by that small naked space in between her shorts and her hoodie.

There’s the bouncy hair, her crazy red hair; There’s her smile, the way it curves in amusement at the sight of his stuttering self, with the smallest hint of pink gloss making her lips shine in a pink hue and Daryl can’t help but wonder if she uses the flavored kind, if her lips maybe taste like strawberry.

Then there’s the eyes, bluer than the sky and more turbulent than the sea, with a cat-like air around them, just by the way the light catches on her pupils to make them look just that little bit slimmer, like two black, small, diamond shaped stars in the middle of a cloudy day-sky.

He decides to focus on that, when she sits by him on the bed, uncomfortably close, her naked knees touching his own.

“Hi!” She repeats, beaming up at him with curious eyes. Sitting closer, plastering herself to him, “I’m Carol. Can you tell me your name?” There’s mirth in the way her lips turn upwards, some amusement there, like she’s clearly entertained by the way she can make him choke up and bit his own tongue.

“Daryl,” he grumbles, low in the back of his throat like a growl. “Daryl Dixon.” He elaborates, almost daring her to look down on the name Dixon like everyone else he knows, even if she might not be aware about how much of dirty name it is.

She doesn’t look down on him, instead she grins, but this time when she smiles, it’s genuine instead of amused. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Daryl.” She explains, raising her hand up to his unruly, dirty hair. Daryl flinches and closes his eyes, every instinct inside of him telling him that she’s about to hurt him, instead, she runs her fingers through his hair in slow, soothing movements.

“Yeah?” He ventures, finally, looking up at her, enjoying the ghost feeling of her fingers on his scalp, almost like she’s not touching him, so much different than any touch he’s ever known. He’s dreaming, he rationalizes, she’s not really touching him. This is a safe space, in between the fragments of their imagination and the reality of the union of their souls.

“Yeah.” She smiles, tentatively kissing his temple, the sudden smell of strawberry scent assaulting his senses.

Daryl allows himself to relax, to melt into her touch, his head resting on her slim shoulders. “Been waiting too.” He finally confesses, even to himself. He’s been waiting on the day he finally dreams of her, with her.

“I get it.” She says, her voice distant like an echo, her touch lukewarm, feather-like.

Distant, every movement feeling like she's disappearing.

Daryl closes his eyes with a satisfied sigh and opens them again to the sight of the trailer’s dirty ceiling; Under him, he feels the hard sensation of his lumpy couch; Around him, he can smell the scent of stale beer, burnt oil and some smells he doesn’t even want to start to try and decipher; He can hear his brother’s music, screaming about what it takes to be man.

When he turns into his side, he can see a passed-out woman sleeping on the floor, the sight of her bare breasts burning into his brain.

Daryl guesses that Carol, just like him might be waking up. Except that she's waking up on her soft bed, in her clean, beautifully decorated, yellow room, maybe with the warm feeling of the first rays of sunshine touching her face from her large, carefully decorated windows. She probably will have her breakfast ready for her, maybe from the hands of the old lady on the sewing machine.

Her morning is probably going to be nice; her entire day is probably going to be easy, maybe she’s going to school, maybe she’s already on vacation. Carol has it easy, unlike him, who has to go to work immediately after school, who has to wake up the naked woman on the floor and ask her lo leave, who has to go out hunting because there’s nothing to eat on the mini fridge except for Merle’s beer.

Startling himself, Daryl realizes that he doesn’t feel resentful like Merle did all those years ago, he doesn’t feel the need to call Carol a little bitch, or to compare his life to hers, instead, he notices that he’s glad.

He hopes that she’s having a nice morning, that her stomach is full and that she’s smiling, wherever she is, Daryl hopes that she’s comfortable, safe and happy.

[ateezivy]

learn the alphabet with ivy (updated)

warning! jokes about drugs and killing (this is how she copes with her trauma😭)

A is for…

‘ass shakin on a tuesday?’

‘ask hongjoong if we can get mcdonald’s for dinner’

‘as a mingi enthusiast, i can confirm’

B is for…

‘but did i die?’

‘bonita’

‘boxing was fun until i almost broke my wrist-‘

C is for…

‘cause i said so’

‘cute is overrated, i like looking like i just killed someone-‘

‘call me when i actually care, wooyoung’

D is for…

‘don’t follow me, i won’t be running away. i’m going to the store…’

‘driving is easy, these losers are just lazy. AINT THAT RIGHT YUNHO???’

‘did someone say le sserafim?’

E is for…

‘eggplant emoji? boy what-‘

‘extra ice please’ ‘but seonghwa hyung asked for light-‘ ‘i said extra’

‘even if i die, keep performing’ ‘ivy no-‘

F is for…

‘frogs are innocent beings.’

‘for the LOVE OF GOD SAN SHUT UP’

‘felix said otherwise.’

G is for…

‘god would want me to’

‘going to the gym is so much work, but i’m forced to’

‘guys, i think i started my period…’ *cue panic*

H is for…

‘hongjoongie-oppa says i’m brilliant’ ‘he told you that so you would shut u-‘ ‘san no one asked for your input’

‘how did you manage to make jongho cry bruh-‘

‘how big is his-‘ ‘olivia!’ ‘-house…’

I is for…

‘i’m fearless’ *after getting scared by yunho*

‘i feel bonita’

‘if i have to dance to this song on more time-‘

J is for…

‘just say you hate me already’

‘jongho is my best friend, sometimes’

‘jimin would be my friend.’

K is for…

‘killing people is only okay sometimes’

‘kites still exist??’

‘KITTIES’

L is for…

‘lost me at the word running’

‘look at me’ *slaps san*

‘living is breathing.’

M is for…

‘mingi my dearest’

‘my type? mingi.’

‘my mom told me not to do it, but my mom is also a drug addict so-‘

N is for…

‘no money’

‘no ice cream for you mr. park’

‘nayeon-unnie is cooler than you’

O is for…

‘oh jolly pirate’

‘oh brother, this fool again’ *san walks in*

‘oh, i like yeosang more’

P is for…

‘people think im innocent. that’s cute’

‘pipe down’

‘poop doopy’

Q is for…

‘quit looking at me like that, you’re gonna make me vomit’

‘quiet, i think i hear god’

‘quit talking, i’m trying to listen to itzy!!!’

R is for…

‘right, and i’m beyoncé.’

‘right hand man, jongho. not you’ *cut to wooyoung frowning’

‘rings. blings. and all that’

S is for…

‘silence, who died?’

‘snow snow snow snow snow snow sno-‘ *yeosang throws a snowball at her*

‘sweet. can we go home now?’

T is for…

‘tomorrow is a new day, a new slay’

‘teen beach movie has one of the best soundtracks’

‘they see me rollin, they hatin-‘

U is for…

‘uvula shot’ *shows camera yunhos uvula*

‘under the seaaa. under the seeeaaa. darling is betTA down where it weTTA’

‘uhm, be so fucking for real right now…’

V is for…

‘very good morning my loves’

‘van… gogh’ *van starts moving*

‘valid point, too bad i don’t care’

W is for…

‘wow, and here i thought i was the idiot’

‘where is my food servants’ *acting a scene for a show*

‘why am i here. i need to go home. i, i need to go.’

X is for…

‘xoxo, go piss girl’

‘x-rays helped see the shape of dna’ ‘it’s 2 am. go to bed.’

x’s and the o o o’s they HAUNT me’

Y is for…

‘you have no idea what you’re talking about do you?’

‘yo, chill out brother’

‘yes, i do love my members. yes, i do hate my members. family.’

Z is for…

‘zoom zoom, hop in hotties’

‘zebras. are the white with black stripes. or black with white stripes’

‘zooweemama am i right?’

taglist: @atolua @skzfairies @itzy-eve @cixrosie @stopeatread @alixnsuperstxr @smh-anon

[redactedwriting]

sloppy makeout sesh with g WHEN pleaseeee i deserve it

GOD IVE BEEN POSSESSED RECENTLY WITH HOW BADLY I NEED G ITS JOT EVEN FUNNY so i am giving u. tour of the world (gerard eras)

sloppy makeout with basement g plzplzpkzplzplz

on his fucking dork ass star wars sheets PLEASW im BEGGING it smells like cigs and Boy Sweat in his room but its sorta fucking awesome and he’s not great at kissing yet but he’s good enough and it feels. so good. and it’s so Sloppy and Wet and GOD FUCK he’s a lil handsy but also Very Shy about it, wanting to touch whatever you’ll let him but also scared of it bc he never has, not rly. he’s had hookups in art school but those were quickies at parties and at least one party was usually under some sort of bougie drug’s influence. so.

i’m lumping bullets in w basement g bc i think they’d be pretty similar

revenge is so sloppy makeout to me. he’d be soooo sloppy needy whiny about it i know it!! makeup running from the show and he’s making out w you against a wall backstage, sweaty and desperate and you’re right there with him. both of you handsy, grabbin each others waists and maybe ass and hair and. yeah. Yeah

tbp is. interesting to me because i sort of see tbp as like, almost so unrelated to Gerard As We Know Him that its difficult to imagine him being sloppy about anything. (i say that, as a sloppy enthusiast! that is not a blow i prommy)

that said, sloppy makin out before shows on the bus. hes got you in his lap maybe, and hes cupping your jaw and hes gotta tilt his head up to reach you. mostly its sloppy because he keeps begging into it, begging you to kiss him more or touch him or get him out of his head, anything. it’s like….sad sloppy makeout lol

danger days. whew

ok

hear me out. it is The Saddest, The Sloppiest, The Horniest…all at once. hes slobbery, he’s handsy, he’s unapologetic, he’s campy. maybe sometimes he’s crying during them but he’s made it Clear that he doesn’t want to stop if that happens, he would let you know if he did. and half of you wants to argue, wants to say you know he wouldn’t, but the other half wants to believe him. so you do. and sometimes he cries. sometimes he begs. sometimes there’s some mutual hand jobs. sometimes it’s just the most desperate kissing you’ve ever done in your life, not desperate in a sex way, desperate like the kisses between a couple where one is going to die for the other. that aching, breaking desperate. like you’ll die if you don’t feel each others kiss one last time.

hesitant alien is. so good. he’d be SLOPPY, spitty and wet. aaaa. he wouldn’t be as handsy but lord he is letting you drag him around by the lapels of his stupid blue suit or the tie or the shirt or belt loops or ANYTHING. giggling into that makeout, raspy voice saying how bad he needed this, needed you.

AND NOW. FUCK. SWARM ERA!

i’m gonna die dead. btw.

slow sweet and wet. spitty. gentle handsy. giggling. little moans. little begs. fuck

i rly feel like each costume/outfit had their own personality. cheerleader g would be very much “oh me? really?” and then give you the best head of your life. cat g is very like, sly? slinky, like a cat (lol) and very sweet except not if you are being the slightest bit mean (telling him to wait a second). aaaucghdhsh but yeah it’s just. like making out with a fine aged wine but you’re already a bit winedrunk/tipsy (not rly, but for the metaphor!) going into it. does that make sense. it’s rly good.

i need to be sedated

[tenleaguesbeneath]

Alex/Steph, 20

20: Lazily

Alright, so I'm first going to say I don't have necessarily the best handle on Alex as a character and also anything with her involved is going to get into people's inner lives in a way I can't say I have a lot of practice writing, but that's why this is exciting! Also, this is going up, like, first-draft quality, unbeta'd.

(prompt list is here and I am still taking them)

so! here we go.

A knock at Alex’s door jarred her out of where she’d been zoned out, half asleep, her ribs aching. She groaned loudly in response, and heard the door opening.

“Hey, Alex,” Steph called from the doorway.

“Steph!” Alex answered, the bruising on her ribs giving her a painful reminder that it wouldn’t let her get away with shouting no matter how enthusiastic she was about seeing her girlfriend.

“I brought groceries.” Steph gave Alex a warm glance as she walked past her bed, straight to the kitchen, heavy canvas bags hanging from each shoulder.

“Thanks.”

Steph set the bags down on the countertop next to the fridge and turned toward Alex’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

“My bruises have bruises.”

“Anything I can help you with? Pain meds, water, snacks, your gummies?”

“Tylenol would be good. And water.”

Alex closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the sink running as Steph filled a glass for her. As Steph’s footsteps approached her, she propped herself up on her elbows and then sat up, her muscles complaining the whole way.

“Thanks, Steph,” Alex croaked, taking the glass. She reached for the pill bottle on her nightstand.

“Here, take it easy, Alex,” Steph said, grabbing it first and opening it before passing it to Alex.

Alex took a long swig of water, then two pills, and drained the glass.

“Thanks.”

Alex lay back and closed her eyes as Steph busied herself putting the groceries away. Recovery after falling down the mineshaft was both dull and pain-filled. That the doctors had told her nothing was broken wasn’t much comfort. All that meant was that it could have been worse. Not that she needed the reminder of that. Every time she opened her mouth her muscles ached where they were grazed by the bullet. A few inches to the side and she could be dead. Then there was the bruising from the fall. It hurt to move. Hurt to cough. Hurt to breathe, sometimes, and definitely to laugh.

Maybe she could write a song about that. It’ll be easier to think when she’s not in as much pain.

Steph came back, her footsteps light on the floor as she approached the other side of Alex’s bed, by the door. Alex felt the ripples in the mattress as Steph sat down and flopped over.

Alex opened her eyes to see Steph propped up on her side, watching her. Steph met her gaze, softness in her eyes, a purple haze radiating from her.

I hope she’ll be alright.

“On the bright side, docs said I should expect to make a full recovery,” Alex reminded Steph, answering her unasked question.

“I hope they’re right,” Steph said, her aura fading.

“You’ve been a big help, Steph,” Alex mumbled. “You and Ryan both. I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

“You’re not alone, Alex.”

“I know,” Alex said, rolling slightly toward Steph, her chest muscles screaming at her for daring to ask them to move. “I’ve been alone so long, and now… I don’t have to be.”

It’s scary, Alex didn’t say. For years “help” always had conditions attached. Be helped, but be helped with what the helper thinks you need. Be helped, but only inasmuch as it makes you more convenient to be around. Be helped, but by people who think you’ll probably never live on your own. Be helped, but only by people who will drug you if you tell them about your burden.

Haven Springs was nothing like Helping Hands Group Home, and Steph and Ryan were nothing like anyone there.

But as scary as it was, she had grown to trust them, even with the weird stuff, and they trusted her in turn. Steph had volunteered to stay in Haven Springs as long as Alex wanted to, and Ryan had believed her that morning at the town council meeting, even over his own father.

Now Alex relied on the two of them, her girlfriend and her first real friend, for basic things like groceries.

It beat having to limp across town hauling a heavy grocery bag, for sure.

Alex felt Steph’s fingers tracing along her forehead, brushing her hair out of her face. Her eyes fluttered back open.

Steph was still there, still looking at Alex. Her gaze was gentle, tinged with a nervousness that Alex needed no magical power to see. Behind that nervousness, Alex saw the desire that had always smoldered between the two of them.

“C’mere, Steph,” Alex said, reaching out with her hand to brush Steph closer to her. “I’m not gonna let falling down a mineshaft spoil my first week with my girlfriend.”

Steph rolled toward her, hesitantly, propping herself over Alex. Alex reached up to brush Steph’s hair aside, holding it out of the way as Steph brought herself in for a kiss.

Their lips touched, parted, Alex catching Steph’s bottom lip between hers. Even with her eyes closed, Alex could see the golden light emanating from the two of them. She lifted her head to push closer to Steph, sheer enthusiasm drowning out the protests of her aching neck. Steph’s hand went to her cheek, guiding her back down onto her pillows as Steph reciprocated the push.

When Steph withdrew, the joyous golden light remained as her weight shifted in the bed. Alex opened her eyes to find Steph on her side, nestled next to her, and for the first time, Alex felt that maybe things in Haven Springs were going to be okay.

[dragonsarecool]

Whumptober Day 16 - Paralytic Drugs

Sixteen: Paralytic Drugs

A/N: Set between 'The Calculus Affair' and 'The Red Sea Sharks'. The paralytic drug chosen for this one-shot did exist during Tintin's lifetime, although I have played with the dosage that was traditionally used. Also the new longest oneshot so far!

It had been six months since Borduria, and nothing had happened.

No kidnappings, no assassination attempts, no Bordurian agents shooting down the front door; it had been surprisingly quiet.

He couldn't help it; he kept wondering when the next thing would happen. They'd become so used to having frequent adventures that living a normal, ordinary life seemed like a fever dream.

The young man found himself pondering this almost obsessively as he sat in the front living room, watching as the days passed by. Eventually autumn gave way and December came through, and he would sip his tea while counting the snowflakes that landed on the windowsill, unable to fully let go of his worries. Surely a criminal is going to burst through that window any time now…

Some would call it paranoia, others would say he was being hypervigilant; Tintin thought he was exerting the right amount of concern. The Captain would sometimes crack a joke at the young man's refusal to believe everything was okay. "You and your paranoia; you'd think you've got the FBI on your trail or something!"

Yet despite the jokes, the older man was deeply aware of how on-edge Tintin truly was. How could he not be, after all the things he'd experienced in his short lifetime? He still couldn't believe Tintin was willing to set foot outside his bedroom door at all, given how often he'd come close to being killed.

It came to Christmas Eve, and Tintin still found himself fussing over the lack of excitement. Upon enthusiastic advice from the Captain (which he would've described as harassment), he'd successfully applied for the first Christmas period off since he first joined the journalism industry. He quickly grew bored, his fingers dancing idly over his typewriter as he longed for a story to investigate.

But, like the Captain had continually reminded him, Christmas was a time for rejuvenation and relaxation. He'd even sent Nestor on holidays early, and instructed the man not to return until January 2nd.

Tintin just hoped it wouldn't mean he'd be stuck dealing with a blackout-drunk Captain for a week.

It had come as a surprise to the young man when Haddock announced in the late afternoon on Christmas Eve that he was going out. "I don't mean to the market or anything like that, lad," The Captain clarified, shoving his jacket on. "Just going for a stroll."

"But Captain," Tintin spoke, "you do realise it's only a few degrees outside?"

"And?"

Tintin blinked, trying to think of an appropriate response. "…Bit cold for a walk, isn't it?"

"Nonsense, lad! You forget that I once sailed on decks in this sort of weather!" Haddock adjusted his hat. "Well, I mean, it wasn't snowing in the ocean, but-"

"I think I understand, Captain," Tintin laughed, taking another sip of his tea. "Now go on and enjoy your fresh air."

Haddock snorted as he opened the front door. "Enjoy your window watching, my friend!"

Tintin laughed as he watched his friend depart, only to hide the fact that Haddock was unknowingly speaking the truth. So many threats had come through that front door over the years; it made sense to him that the best place to observe for danger was in the living room.

Perhaps I am being paranoid.

He continued to sit in the living room long after he'd finished his cup of tea. He hadn't realised how long he'd been standing guard until Snowy trotted into the room, sniffing his legs and whining. "Oh, of course! Must be dinner time for you, boy!"

With the faithful canine weaving in and out of his legs, Tintin made his way to the kitchen, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature as he entered the tile-coated room. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands as he sorted through the main pantry, looking for Snowy's favourite dry food. Makes me wonder how many layers Nestor has to wear when working in here.

Snowy gave a grateful bark as Tintin lowered the bowl of food to the floor, tucking in feverishly. The reporter smiled, returning the container to the pantry and brushing the crumbs from his palms. "De rien, mon garçon."

Upon returning to the living room, Tintin's eyes were immediately drawn to an open front door, and he felt his stomach drop. The Captain can't be home already…

He'd barely taken a single step before he felt a sharp prick in his deltoid. "Merde!" His hand instinctively flew to the area and began to massage it. Oh, no no no…Am I going to drop dead or what?!

"Such language, monsieur!" The mysterious man's voice carried a sharp French accent. Having already pocketed the needle and syringe, he firmly grabbed Tintin by the shoulders before the young man could think about running. "I hardly think it appropriate."

"Says the man who just broke in and jabbed me!" Tintin snapped, struggling in the man's grasp. His eyes widened with horror as he realised what his brain was trying to tell him. "…Why are my legs numb?!"

"I prefer no chloroform, monsieur. Makes the job unpleasant for both of us," The man commented, watching in delight as Tintin began to sag to the floor. "Instead, I give small dose of curare. Takes care of things very quickly."

I HATE criminals who prefer creative methods. Tintin could only watch in abject terror as his legs stopped responding to him, his anxiety beginning to peak as he felt the same sensation spreading to his arms and torso. "You're insane! You could kill someone with that stuff!"

"Same argument for chloroform, young man," The man hoisted Tintin underneath his arms and began to drag him across the living room. "But I have been in this business long time and know it very well. I assure you, I know what I do."

"You're a professional, then?" Tintin spat, wiggling his fingers in the vain hopes of stopping them from becoming paralysed. "What do you want with us?! There's not much of value here!"

"I assure, monsieur, there is plenty! You just do not see it," Grunting heavily, the intruder hoisted Tintin onto the couch, arranging his limbs as to prevent them from dangling over the edge. "You are heavier than first appear, monsieur."

"Et ton angles c'est merde." Tintin snapped, glaring at the man's features through his balaclava. He suddenly became aware of an uncomfortable pressure in his chest, and unconsciously found himself beginning to breathe faster. Please don't tell me this paralyses the diaphragm as well!

A coarse laugh escaped from the thief as he placed a cushion under Tintin's head. "Tu es un drôle d'homme. But please excuse me; I have work to do."

Tintin found himself staring into the man's piercing blue eyes, only to realise that it was because the muscles in his neck had stopped responding, and he was now being forced to gaze upright. "You won't get away with this! My housemate will return soon!"

He heard a scoff from the intruder. "I watch you closely for few days, monsieur. He will be gone some time."

The young man struggled to find an appropriate retort, partially because he could feel his jaw beginning to stiffen. He tried to hiss a final remark at the intruder, only for his mouth to fall closed as the paralysis took over. "Hmmgh!"

"No point grunting, monsieur. It paralyses vocals too," The intruder's voice had grown fainter, presumably due to beginning his treasure hunt through Marlinspike.

He stared dully at the ceiling as he waited for his assailant to finish his search, his frustration mounting at an alarming rate. I can't help but be genuinely curious as to what he finds so valuable that he has to break in.

Although it was a very rough guess, he estimated ten minutes had elapsed before he caught a glimpse of the man in his peripheral vision, carrying a full potato sack of stolen goods. "Not as much as I hoped, but still good profit."

Tintin instinctively tried to growl, only for nothing to escape his throat. You despicable bátard.

"I see your anger. But consider yourself lucky, my young friend," The intruder suddenly kneeled next to the young man, snarling so close to Tintin's ear that his breath sent a tickling sensation down his ear canal. "I purposely give small dose. I am a thief, not a killer. You'll be uncomfortable for a few hours, but you will not perish. None of my others have died."

Tintin could only widen his eyes as the severity of the situation sunk in. He felt himself grow cold all over. No no no no no! I can't be left like this! The Captain won't be back until dinner!

The intruder sniggered as he noticed Tintin's silent distress, and clutched his rucksack of stolen goods tighter. "Bonsoir, monsieur."

He heard the front door slam shut, and found himself blinking away a fresh flurry of tears. Oh, mon Dieu…

*****

If the paralysing agent didn't kill him, he was sure the boredom would.

He'd given up on counting the hours a long time ago. What was the point when you couldn't see the clock? Instead, he tried to rely on the hourly chime from the grandfather clock in the dining room, though it was ultimately useless due to the distance.

He'd been fretting with worry about Snowy until he heard the familiar screeching of the Captain's cat. Of course he's chasing the damn cat…probably hasn't even realised anything is wrong.

Tintin tried to sigh, only for it to come out as a slightly-louder exhale. When he said 'hours', did he mean two to three hours, or longer? I can't stay like this for a whole day!-

The front door was thrown open, revealing the most beautiful sound in the world. "Tintin! I'm home! And I hope you like English whiskey, for we're sharing a bottle of it tonight!"

Tintin blinked furiously, his heart leaping in his chest. Captaine! Help!

"Tintin? Where are you, lad?"

The young man's eyes snapped to the side as he futilely fought to look at the doorway. He desperately wanted to cry, to scream, to move even his eyebrows, yet none of his muscles would respond to his commands. I'm here! Captaine! I'm in here!

It took a few agonisingly-long minutes before the Captain had finally looked into the living room, for he heard the distinctive sounds of English swearing. "Blistering barnacles!" Haddock dropped his shopping and sprinted to the young man's side. "Is he alive? Tintin!"

Tintin found himself staring past the Captain's eyes, blinking furiously as he desperately tried to turn his head. I'm alive! Captain! Ugh, it's a shame he doesn't understand morse code!

Haddock was puzzled, but the message seemed to click quickly. "Can you speak?"

Two blinks. Obviously I can't!

"Okay, I'm going to take that as a no. Can you move at all?!" Haddock's voice pitched slightly.

Two blinks and an irritated exhale. What I wouldn't give to be a telepath right now…

The Captain placed a hand to the young man's cheek, turning him so that their eyes could meet. "Oh, lad, I'm so sorry…what the devil happened?!"

Tintin blinked. I'm just doing this for fun. What the hell do you think happened?!

"Right, of course. I'm going to have to work this out then. Was it…those Bordurian idiots who kidnapped Calculus?"

Two blinks.

"Allan Thomson and his gang of iconoclasts?"

Two blinks.

"Rastapopolos?"

All Tintin could respond with was a blink, and he felt as though his chest would burst with rage. This is going to get old very quickly.

******

Of course there was a once-in-a-century blizzard that had sealed Marlinspike off from the rest of civilisation, meaning the doctor couldn't come.

Of bloody course.

Had he been physically capable to do so, Tintin would've grumbled. Instead, all he could give the Captain was an irritated blink. Putain d'enfer…

At least the Captain had tried to summon some help for him; he was grateful for the effort. Despite being unable to come and treat Tintin in person, the doctor was at least smart enough to provide Haddock with advice on how to support him as the paralysis drug was metabolised from his system. "He said lots of words that I don't understand, lad, but I'm pretty sure it's not rocket science."

Tintin blinked. Mon Dieu, this better be over soon, or I will go insane…

He blinked again.

Hang on.

My hand feels different…

His curiosity building, Tintin tried to move the fingers on his left hand, a small ball of delight growing in his chest as he felt them collapse into a fist. Bien! It's starting to wear off! He flexed the digits a few more times, his confidence growing as he felt his muscles grow stronger.

He caught a glimpse of Haddock out of the corner of his eye, who was still occupied with cleaning up the fragments of the broken whiskey bottle from when he dropped his groceries. There's no way he'll look over and notice. Captaine! Focusing all of his energy into his hand, Tintin's eye lit up as he finally managed to snap his fingers.

"What the?!" Haddock jumped, dropping the broom handle in surprise. To Tintin's relief, he turned to face the source of the sound, his face lighting up as he saw the reporter's hand moving. Although his hand seemed to have returned to normal, his wrist was still half-paralysed and offered limited motion. "Blistering barnacles, Tintin!"

Satisfied with this first step in communication, Tintin concentrated as he tried to mime writing. Get me a notepad, Captain!

"You want to write something?" Haddock's voice was laced with confusion. "Lad, you can barely move that hand, let alone write with it! Just wait a bit longer and the doctor will be here-"

Tintin responded by clicking furiously and miming a pen. Get. Me. A. Notepad.

He heard the Captain sigh angrily as he darted from the room, returning a few minutes later with the requested utensils. He clumsily grasped the pen in his left hand, struggling to twist it around his fingers. 1 intruder. Was planned.

Haddock took a minute to interpret the scrawled handwriting. "At least it wasn't a gang of thugs this time, I suppose. Are you alright though?"

Ok. Will wear off. Curare.

"Really? Not chloroform this time? Why the hell did he give you that stuff?!" Haddock snapped angrily. Realising what his words implied, he quickly backtracked. "Not that I'm not glad you're awake, lad…it's just-"

Tintin attempted to grunt in his throat, and was pleased when a small sound managed to escape. I understand, Captain, and I'm just as surprised as you are.

He reached out as far as his paralysis would allow, clasping the Captain's hand in his own and giving it a reassuring squeeze. I'll be okay, Captain. It'll be okay. And I did have a genuine reason to be paranoid after all.

A/N: Bien = good

De rien, mon garçon = you're welcome, my boy

Merde = shit

Et ton angles c'est merde = and your English is shit

Tu es un drôle d'homme = you are a funny man

Bonsoir monsieur = good day sir

Putain d'enfer = bloody hell

[bills-bible-basics]

Why Am I in Facebook Jail? A lot of people seem to be confused regarding why they are sometimes -- and in some cases, often -- thrown into Facebook's infamous jail. I would like to share with you some of my personal observations, for your consideration. You can either accept it or reject it, as you please. Being thrown into Facebook jail does not necessarily just have to do with what you post. In other words, it is not solely -- or even always -- based on the nature of the content of your post. Yes, if you post something nasty such as porn, or something that Facebook views as strong hate speech, or try to sell guns or drugs, for example, I am sure that Facebook will throw you in jail. They may even just ban you from Facebook entirely and permanently. Can you really blame them? But extreme cases aside, my observation is that whether or not you are slapped on the wrist by Facebook has more to do with the frequency of your posts, and to how many other people you post, share, message or tag your content to within a specified period of time. That is why sometimes when you are chastised, a Facebook bot will send you a message telling you to slow down. Please notice that I said TO OTHER PEOPLE in the previous paragraph. You can post things on your own timeline to your heart's content, as much as you want, as fast as you want, and in whatever quantity you want. Facebook doesn't really care about that as much -- unless you are breaking their content rules obviously -- because you are on your own turf. It is when you start reaching out to others that Facebook keeps a sharper eye on your activity, and watches out for what appears to be spamming behavior. As I have mentioned before, when it comes to us Facebook Christians, I don't really think that being blocked, restricted, thrown in jail, or whatever, is solely because of our Christian beliefs. Yes, it is sometimes due to sharing our faith, but not always. In fact, I am convinced that quite often, our being chastised by Facebook is due to other reasons. Personally, I think it has more to do with the fact that, on the whole, we Christians on Facebook tend to be a rather zealous, enthusiastic lot of people. We have the truth of God's Word, and so we really want to share it with as many people as possible. Therein lies the problem, and the reason why some of us find ourselves facing jail time a lot more often than others. So because of our zeal for the Lord, what do we do? Quite simply, we go overboard sometimes. We post, tag, message and share to other Facebook users, more frequently, and to more people, than Facebook's quota algorithms allow. That is why so many of us get castigated, in my belief. In short, we do it to ourselves, and then we turn around and accuse Facebook of persecuting us because of our faith, when, in my view, that may not really be what is happening in some cases. For example, when I first joined Facebook in early 2011, and before I learned the ropes, I was blocked, restricted or thrown in jail a few times, because I didn't yet fully understand the aforementioned quota system, limitations and anti-spam safeguards that Facebook has in place. And to be honest, there were probably times when I honestly didn't care, and was willing to take the risks, because I wanted to get out the Word. How about you? Come on now. Be honest with yourself. Once I figured it all out, I wasn't chastised by Facebook for years, because I made sure that I played within their rules of conduct. That is, until the time when I began tagging my friends again, after receiving their specific permission to do so. This is a very important point, so please listen up. You really don't want to start tagging people left and right, whether they are your friends or not, unless you know for certain that they want to be tagged. Why take unnecessary risks? Let me put it to you this way. If you keep tagging a pile of people from whom you did not receive permission first, sooner or later, some of them are going to become annoyed, and you are going to find yourself in a big heap of trouble. Now here's the thing. If they do become annoyed by your constant tags, they may not play nice. In other words, instead of asking you nicely to stop tagging them, they may just go behind your back and start marking all of your tags as spam. Do you know what will happen if Facebook receives enough complaints regarding your uninvited tags? That's right! To jail you go, buddy! You see. You did it to yourself. Of course, the problem here is that we users don't know what Facebook's daily quotas are for different activities, because they absolutely refuse to tell us. Not only that, but Facebook is always changing the value of these daily quotas, in order to keep us off guard. I understand the logic of their approach. It is a way to force us to be conscious of what we are doing, and to be careful regarding our posting, sharing, messaging and tagging levels. Now, one thing you don't want to do is to keep making the same mistake over and over again. If Facebook suddenly restricts your activities, or throws you in jail, don't just get angry at them. Stop and try to figure out why you find yourself in that situation. What were you doing beforehand? You see, the way it works is this: Each time that you make the same mistake, Facebook's automated system sees that, and your punishment time -- that is, your jail time -- will simply be extended longer and longer each time that you make that same mistake, to the point where you may find yourself spending more time in jail, than out of jail. Kind of dumb on your part isn't it? Let me emphasize again that it is not just about the quantity of your posts, shares, messages, tags or whatever. It is also about the frequency or speed with which you do it. In other words, let's assume that on one particular day, Facebook has set a tagging quota of 200 per user. Of course, you will have no way of knowing that this is the quota for that day. But let's say that you have only tagged 60 people that day, when all of a sudden, you are booted to jail. Wow! What happened? Surely you hadn't tagged too many people already! In other words, maybe you didn't break the quantity quota that day, but maybe you did break the frequency -- or speed -- quota. In other words, you were tagging people too fast, and Facebook's system interpreted that as spam activity. Do you understand? To reiterate, sometimes we are indeed harassed unfairly by liberal-minded Facebook employees who are annoyed by or who disagree with our Christian faith. After all, there are rotten apples in every barrel. But sometimes we also bring these problems upon ourselves by breaking Facebook's posting, sharing and tagging rules. In conclusion, when you are stopped, jailed, blocked or locked out of your account, quite often it is a result of Facebook trying to control spam and other forms of abuse on its global network, and may have little to do with your personal faith. With an estimated two billion users, many millions of whom are simultaneously online every single day, it is not an easy task. As a result, sometimes their bots and algorithms do make mistakes, or what are referred to as "false positives". Their bots can be overly aggressive, and they incorrectly identify some actions taken by users. Facebook has admitted as much. But at least Skynet hasn't arrived yet, and we aren't just being wiped out! :) So that is my take on this issue. What do YOU think? https://www.billkochman.com/Blog/index.php/why-am-i-in-facebook-jail/?feed_id=202005&Why%20Am%20I%20in%20Facebook%20Jail%3F

[sadmantran]

10/16/2022 @ 8:50 am

Another chapter opens and these past 2 months I have embarked on another journey. I started my position at BOEING Encore interiors recently and it has been a challenge. I got hired for an EHS manager position when I only have two years of experience under my belt. There are a lot of things that I started to learn within my first month of hire. It’s a challenge and there are many days recently that I feel that I am not adequate enough, but I must keep trying my best and putting my best foot forward.  I feel that I have lost sight on what is important lately and have fallen back on bad habits. I started to drink, smoke, and now do drugs again to fill my time. The gym has not been a priority lately due to my difference in energy levels... I need to get back on that grind and be more natural. Sometimes I feel my mood/mind is cloudy due to the stress at work. I find that I am not as enthusiastic some days. I mean it’s cool that I am that manager, but it also sucks that everything falls upon me. I guess it is the perspective... no one is expecting me to know everything except for myself. This week I need to work on being more organized and fixing my schedule. I am a little nervous about meeting my P.O tomorrow, if there is a drug test then I am basically screwed. Oh wells... hopefully I have an alibi to get me out of the situation. No excuses though... I knew what I am getting myself into. Anyways, life overall is peaceful. I am enjoying this fall weather... there’s no shame to want to stay at home and just potato when work is so stressful. I just wished that I had someone to spend my days with. I am getting older and I really wished that I had someone to be with... I miss being loved by a female... having someone I can rely on and to do things with. However, these are all wishes/wants... it’s nothing that I really need because I have friends/family... although limited they are still there for me if I need them. I have to continue to be strong and appreciate the things that come into my life. Everything else will come after. 

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Like the Rush of the Thunder

Summary: Steve and Eddie have been "together", for awhile. No labels. They don't talk about it. They just. Are. Until they make love one night, Steve panics, and runs. Away from Eddie. Away from himself. Breaking Eddie's heart in the process. The only thing is, he's in love with Eddie. Like big time. So he has to get him back. Whatever it takes.

Word Count: 14,961

Warnings: Internalized Homophobia, Period Typical Homophobia, NONE of the Homophobia in this comes from steve or eddie or any of the gang, teeny tiny moment of steve and a random girl, Self Hatred, Self Harm (nothing graphic Steve just hits himself when he's upset a few times), 18+ NO MINORS PLEASE!!!, Angst with a happy ending!!!

Ao3

Steve isn't sure how he got here. Sitting on Eddie's bed while Eddie pulls his shirt over his head, his mouth moving quickly back to Steve's throat, dragging a maon from him as Steve's hands pull at Eddie's shoulders, needing him closer. Eddie licks up his neck and then pulls back, his brow furrowed.

"You sure this is okay?" He whispers, his hands warm on Steve's hips, two fingers of each hand lying against his skin, the rest of his hands lying against Steve's sweatpants. And Steve has lost count of how many times Eddie has asked him this. Over and over and over, Eddie has asked him. And Steve is fucking helpless and always says yes. As he does now, he nods and pulls Eddie back to him, licking into his mouth enthusiastically, making Eddie moan and grind his hips against Steve's thigh.

He knows Eddie can see it. The way he hesitates. He wants Eddie. God he wants him, more than fucking anything. But there's this pressure in his chest sometimes. When they're out together, and sometimes even when they're alone. He can feel it. Pressing against his ribs, small, and terrified, and so so loud sometimes.

He let's Eddie press him back, into the matress, and then lets him pull his pants slowly down his legs. His boxers follow them, Eddie drags them down keeping his eyes on Steve's face. Steve is on his elbows, his chest heaving as Eddie moves back up, he pauses, his eyes moving to Steve's dick as he bites his lip. Steve mirrors him, pulling his lip between his teeth and watching, mesmerized as Eddie lowers his head and presses his tongue, wide and flat, against Steve. His head falls back, a broken sound filling Eddie's small room as he drags his tongue over Steve's cock, so. Fucking. Slowly.

Steve whines pathetically when Eddie sucks the tip into his mouth and swirls his tongue around him.

"Fuck." Steve breathes, and then Eddie is chuckling against his hip, pressing a kiss there before licking his way up Steve's chest.  Steve swears Eddie's tongue must be some kind of drug, he'd been hooked since the moment Eddie had licked into his mouth that first night, tasting like weed and the beer they'd been sharing. He'd been gone on him before, but that moment, Steve was done for.

"You okay?" Eddie asks, settling himself on top of Steve. Steve nods, moving his hand to the side of Eddie's face, and then up into his hair. Eddie hums, moves his hips again, and that's when Steve notices it.

"Why the fuck are you still wearing so many goddamn clothes?" He asks, not waiting for an answer as he pulls Eddie down into a searing kiss. Eddie groans, his hips thrusting down into Steve, his clothes the worst kind of friction agaisnt the ache between Steve's legs.

"Sorry sorry sorry." He pulls back, shoving himself onto his knees and pulling his shirt clumsily over his head. Steve's already tugging at the button and zipper on his pants, trying his best to shove them down his hips. His fingers brush Eddie's skin and he collapses into himself, shoving Steve's hands away.

"I got it. I got it." He breathes, hurriedly, throwing himself down onto his back and shoving his pants down.

"Ticklish?" Steve nugdes him in the ribs, he squirms away, barely an inch as he struggles to get his pant leg over his foot.

"You know I am- oh fuck sake! You gotta be kidding m- shit- got it! Got it!" He tosses his pants and rolls back to Steve, who stops him with a hand on his chest.

"What? What did I do?" Eddie asks, breathless and concerned. Steve shakes his head, a fond smile on his lips as he moves his hand down, tucks his finger into Eddie's boxers and pulls the wasitband out.

"Forgetting something?" He moves only his eyes to Eddie then, watches his throat move as he swallows under Steve's scrutiny. He licks his lips and nods. Steve lets the waistband go, lets it snap back against Eddie's pale skin.

"Ah! Dick." Eddie mutters, moving to his knees again, his thumbs hook into his underwear but he stops, looking at Steve again. And Steve should really be used to this, this self-consciousness that washes over Eddie sometimes. It's random, and it's sweet, and Steve wishes he could kiss it away.

"I'm sure Eds." He says, a preemptive answer to the question that has yet to be asked, but it's in Eddie's eyes. And then it's not. It's gone. And he tugs his underwear down, wiggling out of them and then tossing them at Steve's face.

He sputters, grabs them, and is about to call Eddie something, anything, but then Eddie is on top of him again, their cocks pressed together so perfectly between them that the only sound that comes out of Steve is a moan.

"Hi." Eddie breathes, smiling at Steve as he brackets him in, his hands on either side of Steve's head.

"Hey." Steve smiles, his hands going to Eddie's arms, his fingers moving gently over his skin.

"Can you- um..." Eddie stops, furrows his brow as he looks down at him.

"What?" Steve moves one hand up, soothing the frown away with a gentle touch. Eddie makes a face, the face Steve has come to recognize as his "fuck it" face, he usually makes it before he says something he shouldn't. Steve mentally braces himself. But not enough.

"Can you spread your legs for me?" Eddie says it so innocently, but that doesn't stop Steve's cock from twitching agaisnt him, Eddie eyes glance down, between them, and then he's smirking at Steve. He bites his lip and moves, quickly, grabbing Steve's wrists and pinning them to the bed beside his head.

"I said, spread your legs for me." Eddie's voice is low now, commanding, and Steve's brain had stopped working the first time he'd said it. Now it was a command, low and suggestive, as he lowered himself closer to Steve. So Steve does, he slides his legs up, moving them so that Eddie settles against him just so, both of them moaning.

"Good boy." Eddie breathes into his neck. And Steve almost cums then. The fire pooling in his groin feels like it's boiling. He pulls his wrists from Eddie's grasp and wraps his arms around Eddie, clinging to him, pulling him closer. He knows his hips jerked agaisnt Eddie again, tucks his face into Eddie's neck and kisses the hot skin there to hide his growing embarrassment. This was going to be over so fucking fast and he was going be goddamn ashamed of himself when he came all over Eddie's stomach from two fucking words.

"Like that did ya?" Eddie whispers between kisses. His hands moving to Steve's shoulders, he pulls back a bit, looking down at Steve, his hair falling around them, curtaining them into this moment together.

"Eddie I'm-" Steve tries, cutting off in a gasp as Eddie moves, thrusts his hips into Steve, while he's looking into his eyes. Steve's fingernails dig into his back, Eddie flinches and trusts down harder, pulling another whine from Steve.

"I know. I can feel it. Feel you." Eddie breathes, his hips rocking in a slow rhythm now, pushing Steve closer and closer to the edge. Steve tries to match Eddie's rhythm, but his hips are erratic, his hands moving over Eddie's skin as he squirms beneath him, not sure where to touch or hold him.

"Shh. Just stay still." Eddie's hands move to his hips then, his fingers pressing into Steve's skin there, hard, and he holds Steve down, pressing him into the matress so he can't move. Steve whines, his hips trying to move, to get more friction. Eddie leans closer then, pressing himself on top of Steve, chest to chest. His lips kissing across Steve's cheek as they make their way to his ear.

"Lemme take care of you." He breathes, teeth scraping along Steve's shoulder.

"I will. I promise. Take such. Good. Care of you." Eddie punctuates his sentence with slow, gentle, thrusts, and Steve can barley breathe. The friction between them is like nothing he's ever felt before, his skin is burning where Eddie is touching him and he still needs more.

"Please." He sighs, squirming into the hard press of Eddie's hold on him. He'll have bruises, he knows, he struggles a little more. Can't wait to see them in the mirror. He feels Eddie smile into his shoulder, his hips move faster.

"What? Hmm? Tell me what you want Steve." He gives Steve's hips a squeeze then, at the same time he drags their hips together, pressing against Steve impossibly hard and slow. Steve whines, squeezes his thighs around Eddie and digs his fingernails into his skin as he tries to pull him closer.

"Eddie please. More. I need more." He's begging now. And he might be embarrassed about that normally, but right now he'd do anything. Anything anything, to get Eddie closer, to get more of him, to get what he needs.

Eddie stops moving. Steve groans pathetically, his hands moving to the small of Eddie's back, tugging there, trying to make him move. And then Eddie is above him, looking at him again, with those stupid beautiful eyes, one hand moving to cup Steve's cheek.

"You want more?" He's smiling, softly.

"Mh hmm." Steve hums, thrusting his hips up against Eddie, he watches Eddie's eyes flutter and feels satisfaction swell inside him. Eddie's close too, he can see it now that he's looking at him. Eddie hums right back at him, his calloused fingers moving softly over Steve's bottom lip.

"So fucking beautiful. Know I'll give you anything you want." His eyes move from Steve's mouth to his eyes.

"You know that right?" His hips rock once, gifting him another whine from Steve. Steve nods quickly, his hands still trying to get Eddie closer. Eddie smiles, soflty, and then there's a glint in his eyes. Steve has no time to prepare for Eddie licking into his mouth. Or the way he moves his tongue against Steve's in the same rhythm he's moving his hips, grinding his cock into Steve's with mind numbing perfection. All Steve can do is hold on, his nails digging into Eddie again as he moans around Eddie's tongue.

Eddie's hand moves again, snaking underneath Steve, pulling his waist impossibly closer, changing the way Eddie's thrusts hit him just the smallest amount, but it's enough. Eddie licks down his throat then, and Steve can feel the spit from his own mouth dripping down his chin as he pants into Eddie's shoulder. Eddie hums agaisnt him, his hips speeding up just so, and then he bites down, his teeth sink into Steve's skin gently and it pushes him over the edge.

This wasn't just sex. Steve has had sex. Eddie was fucking making love to him, taking him apart so easily and then piecing him back together just the same. Steve clings to him as his orgasm shoots through him, white hot, as Eddie's hips rock agaisnt him. Fuck seeing stars, Steve sees fucking planets, sees the creation of the whole goddamn universe spark and fade before his eyes. His body shaking as he comes back down. He whines again, Eddie is still thrusting, his hips jerking now, Steve knows he should do something. Wants to make him come undone the way Eddie just had for him. But his thoughts are still in the stars. So he moves his arms, best he can, clamping his fingers down around Eddie's biceps, and moves his hips up, once.

"Eddie." He moans the only word that he's retained in his memory. And it sends Eddie over the edge, perfectly. His hips stutter once, twice, three times, and then he's moaning into Steve's shoulder.

"I love you. Fuck I love you so fucking much." It's breathed into Steve's skin quicky as Eddie goes limp on top of him. Breathed like the prayer of a dying man, quiet, and desperate, just for Steve.

Steve takes a deep breath. His wits, what he had of them, slowly coming back to him. They're chests rise and fall together as Eddie lays on top of him. Steve smiles sleepily as Eddie presses kisses into his shoulder. Moans once when Eddie licks at the bite mark he'd made.

"Sorry." Eddie mutters, as he gently moves, he lifts himself up then, leans over the side of bed. He returns with his discarded boxers in hand, he moves them between them gently, using them to clean up the mess they'd made of each other. He laughs once, breathlessly, before settling himself back down, tossing the boxers away again.

Steve moves his hand to Eddie's hair once he gets settled. His mind racing now. The laugh Eddie breathed between them had struck something. He doesn't know what. The softness of Eddie's face as he'd cleaned them, his cheeks tinted pink from what they'd just done. What they'd done. Steve's heart beats faster.

"You okay?" Eddie asks, his fingers trailing over the skin of Steve's ribs.

"Me? Good yeah." Steve nods, doesn't know if Eddie can see it. Doesn't care at the moment.

"You're just... awful quiet." Eddie continues. Steve closes his eyes. He can hear it in Eddie's voice. That self-consciousness. But there's more there now, it's deeper. He opens his eyes and looks down at Eddie, the curve of his nose just barley peaking out under his bangs. He moves his hand up and trails his finger down, making Eddie look up at him, his big brown eyes, soft and open.

"I'm okay. Promise." And he hates himself. For saying that. Hates himself even more for the way it makes it Eddie smile. Hates himself for dragging Eddie up into a kiss, a sweet kiss, soft, and slow. Hates the way he lets Eddie fall alseep on him. Let's Eddie be comfortable, knows Eddie feels safe.

And when Eddie finally falls into deep sleep, Steve pulls himself from beneath him, watching as Eddie's hand reaches out in his sleep, looking for Steve. He hates the little sleepy frown on Eddie's face as his hand reaches out and closes over nothing. Hates that he put that there. He grabs his clothes quickly, but quietly, and sneaks out the door.

He makes it home, after having one small breakdown, and jumps in the shower. He pukes twice. And he can't seem to stop crying. Not even sure when he started. He pulls his clothes on and falls into bed. His heart pounding in his chest.

He shouldn't have left. He should have stayed. Should have stayed with Eddie. But it was. God it was all so fucking much. The way Eddie looked at him. The way Eddie made him feel. It was so, goddamn, much. It had been a lot with Nancy. Or at least, he'd thought it had. But this, this was different. There were other things. Things he had to think about. Things he couldn't stop thinking about.

They way his parents talked about the gay people on the news. The disgust in their voices, or his fathers at least. His mother was always silent. Her eyes locked on the tv, maybe she thought if she didnt engage he would stop talking. But he didn't. He could rant about it for hours, and Steve had heard the horrible shit that came out of his father's mouth. None of it was true of course. But it was all trapped in Steve's head now, floating around his thoughts like a virus.

And there was Robin. Always so worried about saying the wrong thing to the wrong girl. Not because she was a motormouth, but because she'd become the town pariah,  her words. And that was just saying the wrong thing. Steve had gone well past saying the wrong thing. He'd done the wrong thing. All of the wrong things. Well maybe not all yet. But he'd wanted it. He'd been so goddamn close to asking Eddie to fuck him. To really fuck him. And that was the most wrong thing that could happen.

Steve took a gasping breath and slammed his fist into his leg. Twice. Again. He'd already done it in the car. Trying to stop the fucking horrible thoughts that he knew weren't his own. It wasn't wrong, what he and Eddie had done. It wasn't. They... liked, each other. A lot. Steve cared so much about Eddie it made him ache sometimes, just being away from him. But this, this was, it was too much.

Steve slammed his fist into his leg again, pain rocketing through him, it was already bruised from the car, he'd seen it in the mirror, dark and angry. He'd glanced over the bruises on his hips, Eddie's fingers leaving lasting imprints on his skin. Steve's stomach had twisted at the sight of them and he'd turned away from the mirror.

He wiped at his face, wet from tears again, and turned onto his side. He reached out in the dark, pulled his pillow close, shoved his face into it, and screamed. He screamed, and screamed, until his throat was raw. He panted into the pillow and then threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

He lay there, in his bed, aching to be in Eddie's instead, hating himself. Hating himself for what he'd done. Hating himself for what he knew he was going to do. He lay in the dark, terrified, and cried himself to sleep.

~*~

The phone starts ringing at noon. Steve ignores it. The ringing stops. Steve relaxes, pulls the covers over his head and stays in bed. It rings again at one. And then at two. Every hour on the hour the phone rings. Steve ignores it, the self loathing and ache in chest getting stronger and stronger with each ring. It's fine while he's alone. But if it keeps ringing when his parents get home he's gonna be in trouble. He knows it.

It rings once after he hears them downstairs. He hears his father pick up. Hears him yell up the stairs. Steve yells back.

"Tell them I'm not here!" And shoves his face into his pillow, eyes wet again as he hides. The phone doesn't ring again that night.

It's starts at noon again the next day. Steve had called into work, apologized to Robin but didn't explain, not really. Told her he had a fever and didn't want her getting sick. He'd hung up on her mid sentence and crawled back in bed.

He lets the phone ring all day. Fighting the urge to pick it up becoming more and more difficult. He knows it's Eddie. No one else would be calling him. Robin and Dustin would both just come to the house. And he misses him. It's been two fucking days and he misses him. The phone rings again, he groans and shoves his head under his pillow.

His mother is home early. She rarely gets home before his father, but it's four thirty and he can hear her down in the kitchen, she's cleaning something, he can smell the bleach. The phone rings at 5 and Steve waits. Waits for her to shout up the stairs. But he hears footsteps instead. He hears his door squeak as she pushes it open, just enough to stick her head in.

"Steve? You awake?" Her voice is soft, maybe even concerned. Steve pokes his head out from under the blanket and looks at her.

"There's a boy on the phone. Eddie something. He wants to talk to you." Her voice stays quiet as she watches Steve. He does his best to keep his features schooled, emotionless.

"Says it's important." She tires. Steve shakes his head, slowly. His mother frowns at him.

"He sounded upset. Are you sure?" She folds her arms over herself, still watching him. He shrinks back under the covers, tears falling as soon as he's out of sight.

"I'm sure." He says, fingers digging into his arm to fend off the ache in his chest.

"Is everything okay? With you?" He can't tell what it is in her voice, concern maybe, he's not used it.

"I'm fine mom. It's just a headache." He knows his voice wobbles, closes his eyes and braces for another question.

"Okay. I'll tell him you're not here." Is all she says before closing the door. Steve relaxes again, for a brief moment, before he's wracked with sobs, they tear through him and he shoves his face into his pillow, hiding them from his mother, on the off chance she'd cared enough to stay and listen for them.

~*~

He'd been snapping at Robin all day. He knew she was going to start snapping back. But she also had the sense to know that something was wrong. And she was clearly worried about it, but also clearly forcing herself not to ask. Steve wasn't sure she'd be able to last much longer. He didn't plan on answering her questions anyway, so it didn't really matter.

He was rewinding tapes. One after another, over and over and over. No one seemed to be in the "be kind. Rewind" mood today. The stack of tapes next to him growing with each set of returns. He can see Robin in his peripheral vision, he'd watched her come close, open her mouth to speak, and then spin and walk away, almost five times now. He'd laugh about it on a normal day, snort and tell her to just spit it out. The issue was, he didn't want her to spit it out. Knew exactly what she was going to ask, and knew that he couldn't answer her. Not without pissing her off. So he said nothing, and hoped that she would follow suit.

She made it til closing. Nearly. Thirty minutes til. She opened her mouth to ask and Steve was saved by the phone ringing. Or at least, he thought he was saved. Robin grabbed the phone and spouted off the Family Video speal.

"Oh hey Eddie. Yeah he's right here, hang on." She holds the phone out as Steve stares at it.

"Steve?" She shakes the phone. Steve's heart hammers in his chest, the ringing in his ears nearly deafening.

"Have to go." He mumbles, tossing the keys to her as he shoves out of the desk area and rushes toward the door.

"What the hell?" He hears, as she watches him leave.

"Steve? Steve!!" She's yelling now, sounds angry. Steve ignores it. Practically runs to his car and gets in. He speeds home, knowing he's gonna have to deal with Robin's wrath now. Especially if she talks at any lenght to Eddie about what's going on. He pushes the gas peddle down harder, trying to get home so he can crawl back into bed.

The phone rings two hours after he gets home. He jumps to answer it, knowing the ringing will wake his parents if he lets it go. He hesitantly raises the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" His heart hammers, not knowing who's voice is going to answer him, he's prepared for it be angry either way.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Robin hisses in his ear. Steve sighs and falls back into bed. Says nothing.

"Helloooo? You better start talking cuz I deserve an explanation at least!" She's pissed, but trying to keep her voice down, her mom's probably in bed too. He sighs again.

"I know. Okay? I know. I just... I can't. Right now." Steve manages, it's choppy, and unsatisfying, he knows, but it's all he has in him right now.

"Did Eddie do something to you?" Straightforward as always. Steve almost laughs. Eddie had done several things to him, but nothing he hadn't wanted, hadn't begged for, on occasion.

"No. Eddie didn't do anything. That's not- no. No." He doesn't sound convincing, he knows that.

"So it was you then?" She says, doesn't elaborate.

"What?" She's lost him.

"You did something. To him." She clarifies. It's not a question. Steve's palm sweats against the phone.

"What did he tell you?" He sounds defensive, knows he does. He hears her scoff through the phone.

"He didn't have to tell me anything Steve. I have eyes. I've seen the way you two have been looking at each other. Or did you forget who you're talking to?" She sounds mad again. Steve stays silent.

"Did you do something stupid?" She asks, says nothing else.

"Yes." Steve says, and his throat is burning, again, for the millionth time it seems, in the last few days.

"Did you hurt him? Not like physically, I know you wouldn't do that, but... did you hurt him?" Her voice is much quieter now, like they're telling secrets, and Steve supposes, they are.

"Yeah. I think I did. I think I really did. Still am." His voice and hands are both shaking now, tears burning in his eyes.

"Can you fix it?" She sounds tired. Steve feels that. He's goddamn exhausted, just wants to go back. To the other night. When Eddie was curled against him, warm and comfortable, smiling into his skin as he slept. He would stay this time. Stay with him forever. Never leave his fucking bed again.

"Don't know. Probably fuck it up more first. You know me." Steve sighs, thinking back to his break at work today, Robin had been inside, he'd gone out front to get away from the store. And this girl, long brown hair, looked familiar, probably a regular, had come up to him, flirting.

He'd smiled, disinterested, and she'd asked  if he wanted to go the movies with her? Friday maybe? He had a "date" with Dustin that day, the movies, ironically. And his stupid fucking mouth had told her this, and then fucking invited her along. She'd seemed a bit confused, but pleased, as she walked away, telling him she'd meet him there. His stomach had been twisted in knots since then. He'd puked in the shower again when he'd gotten home.

"Steve?" Robin's voice pulls him back out his thoughts.

"Hmm?" He hums, not really caring about this conversation any more.

"What are you gonna do? Don't do anything else. Just apologize to him. Fix it. I can help you if you need it. We can fix-"

"Robin I'm really tired okay? I'll see you at work. Night." He hangs up on her. Could still hear her talking as he hit the button. Calling his name, telling him not to hang up. He closes his eyes, waits for the phone to ring again, despite the late hour. It doesn't. He tosses the phone back onto his nightstand and rolls over, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Fucking idiot." He mutters to himself, rolling further into the bed, pulling the covers over his head again, trying to hide from what he's done. From what he's going to do.

~*~

"Steve over here!" He hears Dustin call, sees the boy immediately and pulls his date along with him to greet him. Dustin looks at her, then looks at Steve, he's annoyed. Steve can see it. But when isn't he annoyed these days, he's a teenager, he lives a life of annoyance. His date curls into his side, Steve moves his arm around her out of habit, resting it across her shoulders. He's about to ask Dustin what movie he's dragging them to this week when he hears it.

Eddie's laugh.

It's bright. And clear. And it sets Steve's teeth on edge. He turns, finds Eddie easily. He's at the counter with Max and Lucas, buying them literal arm fulls of candy. Steve watches him turn, and time seems to slow down, as Eddie's eyes land on him.

The smile he'd been giving Max dropped, instantly, the look on his face punching Steve in the chest. Steve watched his eyes land on the girl next to him, the candy in his arms falls to the ground. Eddie's hands grab at his vest, his wide eyes moving back to Steve. He can see tears threathening and it twists his stomach, but he watches Eddie shake his head, once, and then drop to his knees to help Max and Lucas pick up the candy. Steve hears him joke about being a klutz, easy, making the kids laugh at him.

Steve clears his throat and turns, his eyes falling on Dustin, who is glaring at him. Steve's stomach drops. He'd thought Dustin had been annoyed about the girl, and he clearly had been. But he'd been annoyed about the girl, because she shouldn't be there. Steve dropped his arm back to his side, put some space between them. Dustin was right of course. She shouldn't be there. Shouldn't be anywhere near him. He couldn't even remember her name for fucks sake. Doesn't know if he ever asked her for it.

He watches Eddie pass them, Max and Lucas hot on his heels, all of them calling to Dustin to follow them. Dustin narrows his eyes at Steve, and follows them with a huff.

Eddie is on the other side of Dustin, so close but so far. Dustin has been ignoring Steve, leaning over to Eddie with all his comments about the movie trailers that play. Steve doesn't blame him. The girl keeps touching him. Her hand moving from his knee to his thigh no matter how many times he pushes it back down.

They make it maybe twenty minutes into the movie before she leans closer, giggles into his neck. Steve does his best to lean away from her without ending up in Dustin's lap. He sighs as she tires again, her hand sunk deep in his hair now. He moves his head, meaning to just look around the theater, away from her, but his eyes catch on Eddie. He watching them over Dustin's head. And when Steve's eyes catch on his he's out of his seat in an instant, excusing himself quietly as he squeezes through the aisle. Steve watches him go, waits three minutes exactly, and then goes after him, leaving his "date" alone in the theater with a group of kids she doesn't know. He doesn't think twice about it.

The toilet flushes as Steve walks into the bathroom, the door swinging shut being him. Eddie comes out of the stall, wiping at his face. He stops when he sees Steve, but only for a second, before he goes to the sink, ignoring him. Steve walks forward slowly, not sure what he should say. What he can say. He takes one step too far and Eddie turns on him, fast, holding his hand up, shaking hand pointing his finger at Steve.

"Stay the fuck away from me." His voice is quiet, Steve knows he meant to sound threatening, but he doesn't. He sounds... broken. And Steve feels sick to his stomach. Because he'd done that. He stands there, says nothing, just looks at Eddie. He lowers his hand and crosses his arms tight over his chest, his hands leaving wet marks on the jean of his vest.

"What the fuck do you want from me? Huh?" He leans foward a little.

"What do you want!?" His voice cracks as he raises it. Steve watches him take a step back, like he'd startled himself with the force of it. Steve swallows, trying to think of something, anything, to say. Nothing in his head is good enough.

"Fucking say something!" Eddie shouts, his hands shaking, frustrated, at his sides before he tucks them back up around himself again. So Steve does. He says something. Something so goddamn stupid he'd gladly have his goddamn tongue removed.

"Eddie I-" he takes a breath.

"I care about you. So much but I-"

"Care? You. Caaare. About me?" Eddie doesn't let him finish. And Steve is almost glad. God forbid any more stupid shit come out of him right now. Eddie shakes his head, taking two more steps back.

"Is that what you were feeling when I had your dick in my mouth? Care." Eddie scoffs, his voice shaking. Steve's heart nearly stops in his chest, he takes a step foward.

"Would you-" he glances at the door, then back to Eddie.

"Be quiet." He whispers. Eddie's back straightens, his head tilts, and his eyes narrow as he stares at Steve. His eyes flit toward the door and then back, he makes a show of the realization he's had.

"Oooohhhh. I see. Gotta be quiet huh? Don't want anyone to know you fucked the freak, right?" He hisses, his body leaning forward, his voice is full of venom and it takes this moment for Steve to realize he's never seen Eddie mad, not truly angry, until now.

Steve's stomach twists again, because Eddie was right, he'd had that thought, in the car on the way home that night, it's where the dark bruise on his leg had started. He'd sat at a stop sign, thinking about Eddie. And that voice, the one that used to rule his thoughts, had popped up, sounding like everything and everyone he'd ever hated. It whispered in his ear, 'better to get out now. You don't really want people seeing you with that freak do you? Think about your reputation.' Steve had punched his leg so hard to get it to stop that his foot almost went numb. He swallows, stays silent, keeps his eyes on the bathroom floor.

"You're really not gonna say anything?" Eddie's voice is small now, the anger gone. Steve doesn't want to look at him, knows what he'll see. He looks up. There are tears welling in Eddie's eyes, his fingers are clenched so tight in his vest that his knuckles are white. His head tilts as Steve still says nothing.

"Really? Two days and now this, and your not gonna say anything?" The tears fall, Eddie voice is high, his throat tight from crying. Steve feels his own throat burn, tears in his own eyes now.

"I don't know what you want me to say." And that's stupid. And it's wrong. Steve knows exactly what he should say. But he can't, it's shoved so deeply in his chest right now, being held down by fear that just the thought of it nearly suffocates him. Eddie laughs miserably, shaking his head and wiping at face with shaky hands.

"I want you to say you're sorry." He says, licking his lips, wiping another tear away as it falls.

"I want you to say that you're an idiot. But you're sorry. And that you didn't mean it. That you didnt mean to fucking leave me after we- after it- after." He stumbles over his words, Steve feels some kind of sick satisfaction that Eddie can't say it outloud either.

"You left me. And then you ignored me. For two. Fucking. Days." The anger is back now. That high pitch in his voice dragged down to something close to a growl now, and Steve is glad. He can take the anger. The anger he's used too. Eddie moves forward fast, shoving at Steve's shoulders.

"Fucking say something!" He screams, shoving Steve again and then backing away. Steve watches him take a deep breath, watches him calm himself before he turns back to Steve.

"You heard what I said that night. I know you did." Eddie is staring him down now, his expression hardened. Steve nods. Once. The least amount of movement he can manage. Eddie nods back, once, bigger, his hair shaking around his face. He moves into Steve's space again, his nose brushing Steve's, his eyes burning.

"You're a fucking coward." He hisses, poking his finger hard into Steve's chest.

"I never should have let you in." He shakes his head, his eyes dropping to the ground. He sets his shoulders and looks back up.

"Fuck you Steve Harrington." He slams his shoulder into Steve as he pushes past him to the door, slams it open as he storms out.

Steve waits for the door to close before he runs after him. His heart beating so fast he can barely breathe. He shoves out into the night, hears Eddie's van before he sees it, the loud music screaming into the night. He follows the sound and watches as Eddie backs up wildly before slamming the thing into gear and speeding off.

Steve stands outside in the dark until the movie is over. Wraps his arms around himself in the chill of the evening and bites his lip so hard it starts to sting. Thinking the whole time that only a fucking idiot would let Eddie Munson drive away from them, or run away from them, or get away from them at all. People start to move around him. His date walks past, sneering at him as she tells him she has another ride coming. Steve doesn't care. Dustin walks slowly to his side, stands there silently, waiting for Steve to move.

And so here he stands, Steve Harrington, the idiot that let Eddie Munson get away.

~*~

He's sleeping when the phone rings. He groans, doesn't think about it, reaches out and answers it.

"Hello?" His voice is thick with sleep, his eyes snap open as he realizes he's just answered the phone. But it hadn't been ringing like before, not since the movies, three or four days ago, Steve's not sure.

"Hey. Could you give me a ride somewhere?" Steve isn't expecting that voice in his ear.

"Max?" He asks, groggy, rubbing at his eyes as the mild panic that spiked through him settles.

"Yes Einstein, it's Max. Can you give me a ride or not?" She huffs through the phone. Steve rolls his eyes as he pushes himself out of bed.

"Yea- I mean yeah. Everything okay?" He stumbles out of bed, looking for a clean shirt as he holds the phone to his shoulder with his head.

"Everything's fine. And like, no rush or anything. Just, need a ride." Steve can see her shrugging nonchalantly in his head.

"Alright. Be there in ten. That okay?" He asks, shoving his legs into his jeans.

"Yup. Perfect."

"Okay see-" she hangs up on him before he finishes talking. He looks at the phone in his hand like its offended him, tossing it on the bed as he zips his pants and tugs the clean-ish shirt over his head.

"Fuckin manners on these kids. Jesus." He grabs his keys, shoves the keychain in his mouth to hold them as he grabs the door handle, and jogs down the stairs.

His hands shake a bit as he turns into the trailer park. He clenches his fingers tighter on the steering wheel and focuses on Max. This is for Max. He's here for Max. Keeping Max in his thoughts doesn't keep his eyes from lingering on Eddie's trailer as he pulls up. Eddie's van is nowhere in sight. Steve's thumping heart calms a little, he ignores the disappointment curling around his ribs like a snake.

She's out the door before he even fully stops. Tosses herself into the seat and buckles, she looks at Steve but doesn't give him her usual strained smile. Steve sits. Waits. She says nothing.

"Where to?" He prompts, backing up and heading for the exit.

"Library." Is all he gets from her. He nods. Glances and sees her fingers drumming on her knee. He looks away again, the small action reminding him too much of Eddie to think about. They're about half way there when Max finally says something.

"So you fucked up bad huh?"

"WHOOA! Language! Jesus." Steve wasn't expecting that, though he guesses he shouldn't be surprised. It takes a moment for her actual words to register.

"Wait what?" He glances at her again, she's not looking at him, but her face is determined.

"You. You fucked up. With Eddie." She clarifies, her fingers picking at her jeans, she still doesn't look at Steve. His hands are shaking again. His heart beginning to pound.

"What are you- what does that mean?" He tries to keep his voice calm, knows he misses by a mile. Max actually snorts next to him, so he may have missed by a smidge more than a mile.

"I might be younger than you but I'm not an idiot, Steve. You were at Eddie's all the time. Now you're not at Eddie's all time. And from I saw the other night- you definitely fucked up." She crosses her arms, turning in her seat a little toward Steve. He stops at a stop sign, his heart pounding in his ears, his hands sweating, he looks, sees no cars, and turns to Max.

"What did you see the other night?" He asks, can't stop it, knows he has no right to ask. Max shakes her head immediately.

"Nope. Admit you fucked up-"

"Stooopp saying that word!"

"Admit you FUCKED UP, or I'm not telling you shit, Harrington." She talks over his interruption, repeating her sentence and almost yelling the curse that still sounds so wrong to Steve's ears.

Steve narrows his eyes at her. Says nothing. She sits back in her seat, tightening her crossed arms and giving him stoic look. Steve can't win here. He knows it. The women, and young woman, in his life had too much control over him. He sighs, his head dropping a little.

"I fucked up okay? Happy?" He says, to his knees, not looking at her.

"Yeah kinda." She smiles when Steve looks at her. But says nothing.

"Well, your turn." Steve says, his hand flailing in her direction. She turns away from him then, looking out the window.

"I don't knoooowwww. Not sure you deserve the details." She drawls, glancing at him with a wicked glint in her eyes.

"Max I-"

A car honks behind them, Steve startles and starts driving. Max is silent next to him as he pulls up to the library. She makes to grab the door handle and Steve grabs her arm, gently, holding her back.

"What did you see Max?" His voice is low, his heart is still pounding. She sits back in the seat and Steve lets go of her arm. She looks at Steve, he swallows hard, not sure what she's seeing on his face. She says nothing. But Steve can see her thinking, calculations dancing behind her bright eyes.

"Max what happened? Is Eddie okay? What did you-" Steve stops, can hear the frantic edge creeping into his voice. He slouches back in his own seat, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, drags his hands up and shoves them into his hair. He knows if something had happened to Eddie, Max would tell him, but the thought ran through his mind and panic set in fast.

"Hey." Max's hand is gentle on his arm as she pulls it away from Steve's head. He lets his hands fall as he looks at her, his head rolling to the side on the headrest. There's something else in her eyes now, Steve can't read it.

"Eddie's okay. Technically. You just-" she takes a deep breathe, her hands moving to the hem of her shirt, worrying it between her fingers.

"So last night." She starts, looking back up at Steve, he swallows, his throat tight, and nods for her to continue. His palms sweating as he waits.

"I was up late, watching tv. And I heard Mr. Munson come home, his car rattles sometimes, pretty loud. Eddie's working on it. But I heard him come home so I looked outside and Eddie was waiting for him." She sighs, glancing at Steve again, an unsure look in her eyes.

"Please Max." Steve begs, he needs to know, needs some crumb of what's happening with Eddie. Knows he doesn't deserve it. But he needs it anyway. Max narrows her eyes as they dart around Steve's face. She huffs and nods, mostly to herself.

"Eddie was waiting for him. Which isn't super odd, but odd enough that it made me curious. So I kept watching. They talked, I couldn't hear so don't ask what they said, cuz I don't know. But they talked, and Mr. Munson looked really frustrated for like, maybe half a second. And then Eddie was crying. And Mr. Munson grabbed him and hugged him. And I-" she takes a deep breath, her words all rushed together. Steve's chest aching deeper with every word she spoke.

"I couldn't hear them talking. But I could hear him crying. It was... it was bad Steve. You-" she stops, her features angry, Steve can see her eyes shining with tears of her own at the memory.

"What?" Steve presses, and he knows what she wants to say to him. And he wants to hear it. Needs to hear her say it.

"I just think..." she trails off, her eyes moving away from Steve, her hand tangled in her shirt.

"I think maybe you broke his heart." Her voice is quiet, like she's telling Steve a secret. But he already knows this secret, he'd seen it as soon as Eddie looked at him at the theater. He was familiar with the look of heartbreak. He nods, slowly. She turns back to him, a look suspiciously close to hope in her eyes.

"Do you love him?" She asks. It's point blank, and Steve wasn't expecting that, he blinks at her.

"Steve?" She leans closer now, her hand going back to his arm.

"You just- you seem really upset too. Like... like you regret whatever happened?" She presses, gives his arm a squeeze, and Steve can feel tears burning in his eyes. He looks at her then, his lip quivering. Her features soften as she watches the tears fall down his cheeks.

"I fucked up." His head shakes, slowly.

"I fucked everything up. And I don't know how to fix it." He sobs then, his hands coving his face. He can feel her small hand on his back as she tires to comfort him.

"I miss him so much. And I'm so fuckin scared." He wipes at his face, to no avail, the tears just keep falling. He looks at her, sees her crying too.

"I'm so scared." He whispers as she pulls him close. Steve doesn't have time to think how it would look if anyone saw them. Steve Harrington crying in his car being comforted by a child. And he knows Max isn't a child anymore, none of his kids are really, but the point still stands. She wraps her arms around him and holds him tightly. Steve wraps his arms around her, his hands clinging to her shoulders as he sobs into her shirt.

"It's okay. It's gonna be okay." She whispers it, her hands rubbing circles into his back. The words seem to register in his mind, finally breaking through the panic, and the pain, and the ache in his chest. They fall apart then, both of them sinking back into their own seats, wiping at their faces as they sigh deeply, almost all in unison.

Steve sits silently, trying to even out his breathing. A thought occurs to him and he looks to Max.

"Did you even need to go to the library?" He wipes absent-minded at his face as she turns to look at him.

"Steve. It's summer break." She deadpans. His eyes move to the window, seeing nothing, he lets his head fall back, looking forward again.

"Well fuck." He breathes, a small chuckle shaking him.

"And you wonder where I get it from." Max sighs, looking over at him. He does laugh then. A real laugh. It bubbles out of him and makes Max smile. He shakes his head.

"Should I take you home then?" He asks, his hand moving to the key in the ignition. He hears her seatbelt click.

"Yeah, might as well." She settles into her seat as he back out.

"Actually you could probably take me to Lucas'. We're gonna head over to Dustin's in a bit. And my bike is in his garage cuz it was pouring down rain last week, so Mrs. Sinclair gave me a ride home." She fiddles with Steve's radio as she speaks. He listens intently, his life feeling normal for a moment as she talks about their plans for the day. He pulls into the Sinclair driveway and waits for her to get out. When she hesitates, he looks at her, eyes wide, waiting.

"You know we love you both right? You and Eddie? Even if you're... you and Eddie. It doesn't- we don't care about that. None of us. We still care about you just the same." There's a determined look in her eyes, like she desperately needs Steve to understand this. To understand what she's giving him. He takes a shaking breath, clearing his throat to fight off the tears that threaten to fall again. He nods. Once. But doesn't say anything. Can't say anything just now. Knows his voice will squeak. She smiles then, her hand patting his arm twice before she climbs out of the car. She shuts the door and leans down to look at Steve again.

"And for what it's worth. I think you're really good together. You two. I mean, definitely an odd combo. But uh..." she shrugs.

"It works." A laugh.

"So fix it. If you can. Cuz I uh... care about you both or whatever. I don't like seeing either of you sad. Even if you're the one who fucked up." She winks, taps his car door twice, and is gone.

"Thanks for that! Way to ruin a nice moment!" He calls out the window. She spins as she walks, backing away from the car now, gives him two thumbs up, spins back around, and flips him off over her shoulder. He laughs again, deep in his stomach, shaking his head as it dies down. He gives Lucas a wave when he opens the door for her, and then heads home.

He showers. His thoughts racing. Max's words echoing in his head. They loved him. And he knew that, deep down somewhere, that his friends wouldn't care if he was with Eddie. He knew that. But his thoughts had been louder. The words he grew up with, the venomous words his father would shout at the tv. The stories he'd heard. Rumors from dumb teenagers who knew nothing. Not really. And Robin's constant fear and worry.

It had all balled up under his ribs into some kind of poisonous monster. Clawing at his insides, at his thoughts, at his feelings. His feelings for Eddie. The only fucking good thing that had happened to him in ages. Besides the kids, and Robin. But with Eddie. It was different.

Eddie was his. Had been his. Back then. They hadn't said it. Hadn't labeled it. Never talked about it. But they'd acted on it. Always at Eddie's house, where they had peace, and a space to themselves. And Eddie's uncle, he was a good man. He loved his nephew. All of his nephew. Because there was an honesty between Eddie and Wayne that Steve had never had with his parents.

And he ached at the thought of it. That Eddie had that support. He was so goddamn grateful for it. Especially now. Now that he'd fucking ruined everything. Now that he'd broken Eddie's heart. Basically ripped it out his chest and stomped on it. Because he'd been scared.

Steve steps out of the shower, dabs his hair and dries himself, tightening the towel around his waist as he looks in the mirror.

"He was right." He tells his reflection, shoving his hand through his hair to move it out if his face.

"You are a coward." He tells his reflection. He sighs. Drops his head. Thinks about the determination in Max's eyes as she'd tried to get through to him. He sets his shoulders, look back up, into his own eyes.

"Not any more. We're gonna fix this. I'm gonna fix this." He nods to himself, flips the light off and heads to his room. He pulls on his pajama pants and falls into bed. Thoughts racing through his head, possible solutions flashing behind his eyes in the dark.

He moves his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would fix this. Or start too. He'd apologize. And talk to Eddie. And hope that he would listen.

He closed his eyes, rolled onto his side, pulled his pillow close, imagining his arms wrapping around Eddie instead, holding him close. He sighed, drifting off, praying to any gods who might be listening, that Eddie would listen, and take him back.

~*~

He makes Eddie a mix tape. He sits down. Listens to, god knows how many songs, quite a few of them, he knows Eddie will hate. But he puts them on there anyway, hoping at least to get a laugh out of it. But he also talks.

He talks to Eddie, between tracks. Not all of them. Just the first few. Because he needs to say things. And some of them he knows he'll never be able to say to his face. But they need saying, so Steve says them on the tape and hopes it helps. Hopes it explains things. Hopes it's at least a step towards forgiveness.

The next trick, is finding Eddie. He's never home when Steve stops by. And he won't answer the phone. Steve deserves that one. Brought it on himself. To his credit, Eddie had answered the first time he'd called, but he'd hung up immediately when he heard it was Steve. Which was also fair.

Steve looked everywhere. For days. And a few nights. It had been one in the fucking moring one night and Eddie still hadn't been home. Steve was actually starting to worry a bit. Until one afternoon he saw his van parked downtown, outside the automotive store. He'd parked, stepped out of his car, and stopped.

He watched the three guys in letterman jackets slam their hands against Eddie's van, laughing loudly before opening the door of the automotive place and ducking inside. Steve ran around his car to the trunk, already hearing yelling inside. He pops the key in as the door swings open, the bells above it jingling as Eddie runs out, the three guys hot on his heels. Steve swears as he fiddles with the key, it won't turn. He watches Eddie drop his own keys, his frantic movements kicking them under his van. Steve swears again as the key finally clicks to the side. He shoves the trunk up, watching as the guys shove Eddie into the side of his van. He hears Eddie yell as he ducks into the trunk, grabs the metal bat he'd stored there, ya never know in Hawkins, and he runs.

He runs across the street, slamming the bat into the ground, the metal clang drawing their attention. He raised the bat, making them flinch away, and used the moment to shoulder between them, planting his feet in front of Eddie.

"You touch him again. I'll fucking kill you." He spat, his fingers curled around the bat so tight his knuckles were white. He can feel Eddie behind. His hands are on Steve's shoulders, Steve can feel them, hot and shaking. The guys laugh. Steve swings his bat, no hesitation. Hits one of them in the shoulder.

"You think I'm fucking kidding. Get the fuck outta here." He holds the bat, ready to swing again.

"Are you fucking kidding Harrington? You fucking hit me! You want a fucking assault charge? For this fuckin freak?" The guy he'd hit was holding his shoulder, pain on his face.

"You don't fucking leave right now it'll be a lot more than assault. Fuck. Off." His voice shakes. His heart is pounding, but Eddie's hands on his shoulders, his fingers curled into Steve's shirt now, ground him. For the moment. The three of them exchange looks and laugh again.

"This little queer that important to you? What you guys dating? Huh? You and the freak a pair of little sodomy buddies?" One of them spits, sneering at them in disgust. Steve feels Eddie's hands leave him, hears him gasp and feels him move away.

Steve sees red. He swings again, wildy. Screaming as he charges forward.

"Maybe we are! It's none of your fucking business! So fuck. Off!" He feels his bat slam into something, keeps swinging. He hears the slurs they throw at him, sees one of them spit in Eddie's direction and he loses it. He throws his bat, aiming for the guys face. He brings his arms up in time, blocks the bat. A animalistic growl rips itself from Steve's throat.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU! YOU PEICE OF SHIT." He lunges, hits the guy at least three times before he feels arms around his waist, tugging him backwards. He can see the guys friends pulling him to his feet. Steve struggles, fights to get to them again.

"Steve! Stop! Steve!" Eddie's voice, yelling in his ear as Steve fights against him.

"Steve it's okay. Just-" Eddie manages to turn him, his hands grabbing at Steve face, making him look at him.

"Stop! I'm okay! They're leaving! Just calm down!" He yells, Steve's chest is heaving, his knees buckle, Eddie falls to his knees in front of him, his hands still on Steve's face. Steve vaguely recognizes concern there and the fight goes out of him. His whole body sags. Eddie takes his hands away. Steve tries to grab one, to hold it, but Eddie pulls it out of his grasp. Steve flinches, says nothing. He watches Eddie get to his feet. Thinks for a second that he's going to leave him there, on the ground. And then Eddie's hand drops back down into his vision, held out to Steve to help him up.

He grabs it, looking up at Eddie as he pulls him to his feet. He tries to hold on again, Eddie pulls away, his head tilting to the side with a twitch as he steps away from Steve, almost flinching away but not quiet. Steve hears the small negative sound that Eddie makes and his chest aches. He holds his hands up in front him, surrendering.

"Sorry. I- I won't do it again." He says, swallowing hard as Eddie nods at him, his eyes refusing to settle on Steve.

"Thank. For..." he waves his hand toward the space around them, his hands shoving into the pockets of his jacket.

"Yeah. Of course." Steve breathes, his chest still rising and falling fast, his breathing labored. Eddie bites his lip, nods again.

"Okay bye." He says, turning and almost running back to his van, he throws himself on the ground, grabs his keys, and hops back up. Steve takes a few steps, grabs his bat, and watches Eddie clamber up into the van. He turns. Walks back to his car, shoves the bat into the trunk and hears Eddie's engine whine.

Steve stops, his hand on his door handle. He doesn't turn around. Doesn't look. Just listens. Eddie tries the van again. Steve hears it whine, hears a bang, and hears Eddie swearing. He knows it shouldn't make him smile. But he'd missed that sound. Those sounds. Because it was never just one sound coming out of Eddie when he was frustrated, it was a plethora of weird noises and curse words and god he missed him.

Steve lets him try a few more times before he walks back over. Slowly. He knows Eddie sees him. He'd walked up directly behind the driver side of the van on purpose. He stays back, about three feet away from the door.

"Want a ride?" Steve offers, kicking at the ground, his hands in his pockets.

"No." Eddie huffs, his head falling to his steering wheel.

"Buuuut Iiiii need one. So I guess you're it." He says, dragging out his words before he kicks the door open and hops out. He closes the door behind him, locks it, and stands there, not looking at Steve.

"Can we?" He flails his hands in the direction of Steve car and Steve snaps back to himself.

"Yeah. Sorry. Come on." Steve starts walking, he can hear Eddie's feet scuffing the ground as he follows.

Eddie throws himself into Steve's car and huffs as he buckles his seatbelt. Steve thinks about trying to talk to him now, but stops himself. Eddie's too frustrated, still shaken up he's sure. Steve knows he's still on edge. But it's just left over adrenaline now, thrumming through his viens, hot and true. But still he waits. He waits until they pull up to Eddie's trailer. And Eddie pops the door open as soon as the car stops, gagging himself as he gets tangled in the seatbelt, a comical strangled noise leaving him before he untangles himself and tosses his body out of the car.

"Eddie wait." Steve says, standing up, between the door and the car, one foot in, one foot out .

"Steve-"

"No I know. I know, just. Just lemme say one thing and I'll leave." He holds his hands up again. He watches Eddie's back, his head falls back after a moment, he groans and turns around.

"What?" He snaps, waving his hand at Steve, his eyes still refusing to land on him. Steve ducks back into the car, his hands fumbling around in the glovebox, finally landing on what he's looking for. He pops back up and walks over to Eddie, slowly, because Eddie had taken another step back.

"I uh... I made this for you. And I know it's.. it's stupid. And- and maybe childish? A little? I don't know. I just um..." he fumbles over his words, like he knew he would. Hence the tape. He holds it out to Eddie. He watches Eddie's eyes widen, just a fraction, clearly not expecting this. Steve almost gasps when Eddie's eyes finally move to his face, he looks skeptical.

"I know. Like I said, stupid. But it's not just music. I uh... ugh oh my god." He shoves his hands through his hair as Eddie stares at him, his face blank.

"I just, I said some stuff. Um- on the tape. Explained some stuff? I just- and you don't have to listen to it." He says in a rush, holding his hand out again, Eddie's eyes widen again, his head moving backwards the smallest amount as he continues staring.

"I hope you will, though. It's- it's important. And I know I have no right to ask you that, really. But just, I knew I'd just fuck things up if I tried to say it to your face." He takes a deep breath.

"Clearly." He lets it out, a deep sigh, shaking his head at himself. He looks at Eddie. He's still staring. He nods, slowly, curling the tape into his palm.

"That it?" He asks, his eyes moving to the ground again.

"Um.. yeah." Steve sighs again, feeling slightly defeated.

"Okay. Bye Steve." Eddie says, one curt, final nod, and he's turning, walking into the trailer and leaving Steve standing in his front yard, feeling like an idiot. He shakes himself, tosses himself back into his car and looks in the riverview mirror.

"That went well." He tells himself, voice devoid of emotion. He rolls his eyes at himself and backs out, his eyes catching Max watching him from her front room. She waves, he nods, waves back, and drives home. His stomach twisting in knots as he thinks about Eddie listening to the tape. He hopes he will. It's his last hope really, if today's attempts at speech were anything to go by.

He falls into bed. His hands shaking as he thinks about the guys at the automotive store, the things he'd screamed at them. He takes a deep breath, rolls over, and doesn't sleep.

~*~

He's at work when he gets the call. He hears Robin answer the phone. Hears her answer a few questions, then she pops her head into the backroom where Steve's taking his break. Her eyes are shining, her hair shaking as he bounces in place.

"Eddie's on the phone for you." There is barely contained excitement in her voice. Steve had told her what happened, told her his plan. She'd slapped his arm for fucking up in the first place, but had forgiven him immediately, swiftly switching into friend mode and begun schemeing with him.

"Steve!" Her voice snaps him back and he scrambles to his feet. The pair of them running back out into the little circle desk, fighting as they both try to walk through the small gap at the same time.

"Robin! I swear to god!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I thought we could make it!" Their hands flail as they both squeeze through, she grabs the phone, presses it to her chest as they both catch their breath.

"You ready?" She asks. Steve shrugs, holding his hand for the phone.

"Don't say anything stupid." She admonishes, before he's even said anything. He shakes his hand, hurrying her.

"Okay okay here!" She mouths 'good luck' at him and scurries away to help a customer. Steve takes a deep breath and raises the phone to his ear, his heart pounding.

"Hello?"

"You have terrible music taste." Eddie's voice is flat, emotionless, Steve can't tell if it's on purpose, doesn't really care.

"Yeah. Sorry about-"

"Shh." Eddie cuts him off. Steve clamps his lips shut, pressing them into a thin line as Eddie continues.

"My house. Tomorrow. 10am. We can talk." His voice is still emotionless, Steve doesn't know what to say.

"Okay. I'll be there." Short and to the point seems best.

"Okay." Eddie answers. Steve thinks he's hung up, moves the phone to hang up himself and hears his name.

"What? Did you say something?" He shoves the phone back to his ear. Swears he hears Eddie laugh, but it may have been a sigh, or a huff.

"I said your name." He sounds... annoyed maybe. Steve doesn't know. He hates phones. Phones are dumb.

"I'm here." He swallows.

"Did- did you mean all that? All that stuff you said? On the tape." Eddie's voice is quiet, if Steve hadn't been listening like his life dependened on it, he may not have heard him.

"Yes. I meant all of it. Every word."

Silence.

"Okay. Tomorrow. 10am."

The line clicks.

Steve takes a deep breath and sits the phone down gently, before dropping his head onto the counter and covering it with his arms, groaning loudly. Robin is at his side in an instant.

"Oh no was it that bad? It looks bad. The groaning seems like a bad sign. Can't see your face though so maybe it's okay. Steve?" She pokes him repeatedly until he stands back up. He looks at her.

"Oohhhh! You're so pink! Is that good blushing? Or is it sad blushing?" She pokes her finger into his cheek gently, he swats her hand away.

"Steve say something! Im going crazy what did he say!" She's bouncing on her toes in front of him. Steve reaches out, puts his hands on her shoulders until she stops. She does, holding her hands out, nodding slowly.

"He insulted my music taste." Steve says, hopping up to sit on the counter. Robin mirrors him across the little circle desk.

"And is thaaaaat... good?" She asks, her hands tapping agaisnt her knees. Steve thinks about it, shrugs.

"It felt nice." He answers honestly. Robin scrunches her nose at him.

"Okay but that could just be a weird thing you've got going on." She dismisses with a wave of her hand.

"A weird thing? What kind of person has a thing for someone insulting their music taste?" Steve's nose is scrunched now.

"Maybe not that specifically but insults? That's definitely a thing." She laughs, leaning back on the counter, her foot cradled in her hands, as she rocks back and forth.

"No that's, that's not a thing. I don't have that. I think I just missed him. Ya know?" Steve says, his eyes falling to the floor, cheeks heating up at his admission.

"So cute." Robin whispers.

"Did he say anything else?" Her chin rests in her hand as she watches him. He hops off the counter, moving toward the backroom to finish his lunch.

"He wants to talk. Tomorrow. 10am." Steve shoves his hands in his pockets, ducking into the backroom as Robin yells in triumph. The yell turning to a screech as she tumbles off the counter. Steve shakes his head, a fond smile on his lips as hears her right herself, calling out that she's okay... twice.

~*~

He knocks on Eddie's door at 10am exactly. Mr. Munson answers, a frown curving his mouth as he looks at Steve.

"I um... I'm here to see Eddie." He tries, his voice stuck in his throat. He hadn't expected to come face to face with Wayne Munson during all this, had been dreading it, actually.

"Are you now." Mr. Munson says, crossing his arms.

"It's okay." Eddie's disembodied voice says before he scurries around his uncle, backing out the door, pushing Steve back down the step.

"Is it?" Wayne asks, his hip proping the door open as he watches Eddie guide Steve away.

"Yep. All good. We're just gonna talk." Eddie explains.

"Hey." Wayne beckons Eddie towards him. Eddie runs back up the steps, lets his uncle pull him into a hug.

"I'm goin to bed. But if you need me, you holler. I'll hear ya." He pats Eddie's shoulder, eyeing Steve as he backs into the trailer.

"We'll be fine. Get some rest." Eddie rubs the back of his neck, the nervous smile he gives his uncle fading as he turns to Steve.

"Come on." He jerks his head and walks around the back of the trailer, stopping by a pair of chairs set around a makeshift firepit. He plops down in one, motions Steve into the other. Steve sits down carefully, wiping his sweating palms on his jeans.

He shouldn't be this nervous. He's been around Eddie. Fuck it, he's been inside Eddie. But that was all then, before. Before he'd fucked up. Eddie's staring at him again. His eyes moving slowly over Steve's face, his lip pulled between his teeth as he relaxes back into the lawn chair.

"The tape was... nice." He rolls his eyes, looks away. Steve fights the smile that threatens.

"I put a lot of those songs on there just to annoy you." Steve admits, worrying his own lip now, teeth digging in too hard, making him wince.

"I knew it!" Eddie points at him dramatically, his finger shaking as he scrunches up his face.

"And you stopped talking after like the fifth song. So I suffered through the rest of them for noooo reason." He shakes his head, rolling his eyes again, his fingers twitching where they rest on the arms of his chair.

"Yeah. Sorry." Steve says, not sounding sorry. Eddie looks at him, glares really.

"No you're not." He dismisses.

"Not about that, anyway." His demeanor changes, his eyes stay on Steve but he looks nervous now. Steve feels nervousness shoot through him too.

"I know you can't... say everything. That you did on the tapes but uuuuh. You could say sorry. To my face. I mean that could be... like a start. Or whatever." He shrugs a few times as he talks, Steve has to fight himself to let him finish talking.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fuckin sorry." He starts, reaching for Eddie, thinking better of it, he stands instead.

"I panicked. I mean we- what we did. That was, I mean that was new for me. With a guy. And fuck- it was you. So it was even more." Steve moves his hand to his chest and then flails it between them, watches Eddie squirm in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

"No no! Like in a good way!" Steve clarifies, watches Eddie startle at his outburst, but settle back into his chair.

"I just- fuck! I have all these fucking feelings. For you. And I mean they were already strong. Right? I mean you felt that?" Steve asks, doesn't wait for an answer but vaguely clocks Eddie nodding a little, his eyes wide as he watches Steve begin to pace.

"And then we... were together. Like, together together. And I can't even fucking say the word and I feel like an idiot. I feel so fucking stupid! Because I love you and I can't even say the fucking word! And I freaked out, and fucked everything up and I- I- I hurt you! I fucking hurt you! I know I did! Just because I couldn't fucking deal. With all my own stupid shit." His hands run through his hair, tugging once as his legs carry him back and forth.

"And I'm so fucking sorry. I can't even explain how fucking sorry I am. I mean if I could go back. To that night. And just fucking- stay in your bed forever I fucking would. I'd never fucking leave you. You'd have to like, call the cops or something. And have me removed? Because I just- fuck!" His hands flail before he brings them to his face. His eyes are burning, and tears are not going to help right now. He digs his nails into his forehead, trying to breathe. Then Eddie is there, his fingers curling gently around Steve's wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. His expression is soft when his face comes into view.

"Hey." A smile, dimpling his face for a second before disappearing again.

"Breathe." He widens his eyes at Steve, expectantly. Steve sucks in a gulp of air then, fast, his lungs burning.

"There ya go." Eddie nods, his fingers still on Steve's wrists, not pulling away from him now.

"I'm sorry." Steve breathes, his throat tight as tears begin to fall. Eddie moves blindingly fast, pulling Steve into a bone crushing hug. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie, his chest aching with the feeling of being this close to him again, finally. Steve doesn't know if the shaking he feels is himself or Eddie, can't tell. He just pulls him closer and sobs into his shoulder.

Eddie nuzzles into his neck and he feels a warm wetness on his skin. Eddie is crying too. Steve sucks in another gasp of air and moves his hands up to Eddie's shoulders, clinging to him, he was never fucking letting go.

"I'm scared too." Eddie's voice is muted, his mouth pressed into Steve's sweatshirt, but he hears it. Steve nods, hopes Eddie can feel it as they cling to each other.

"You just have to talk to me. When you f-feel like that." Eddie stutters around a hiccup and then pulls back, Steve reluctantly lets him go, only to be rewarded with Eddie's hands cupping his face, holding him tenderly.

"Okay?" His eyes widen, briefly, checking that Steve is with him. Steve nods, almost frantic, Eddie mimics him and moves back into his arms, holding him close again.

"I will. I promise." Steve whispers it into Eddie's shoulder, his lips catching on Eddie's vest, he presses a kiss there, feather light. Eddie laughs breathlessly into his shoudler before pulling back again, all the way this time. Putting a bit of distance between himself and Steve, his hands moving up to his face, wiping hastily at tears and snot.

"Fuckin- Jesus man." He mutters, wiping his hands on his pants. Steve laughs and does the same.

They stare at each other for a long time. Just looking. Watching. Eddie breaks first. His bright smile breaking the gloom of the morning, teeth shining, dimples making Steve weak in the knees.

"Fuck I missed you." Steve breathes, biting his lip as he stares.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, pressing his lips together, kicking the toe of his sneakers into the dirt, smirking shyly at Steve, he leans into his space.

"Shouldn't have fucking left then." He says, but he's smiling. Steve nods, grabbing for Eddie, smiling as Eddie dances away from him easily.

"Yeah well. I might be an idiot. But uh, my learning curves pretty good." Steve assures him, letting Eddie wander slowly back into his space. He moves fast when Eddie is close enough, grabbing his waist and pulling him flush agaisnt him, Eddie laughs and lets his hands fall on Steve's shoulder, his tongue pressing agaisnt his tetth as he smiles at Steve.

"Oh I'm counting on that." He nods, presses closer, their noses brushing. Steve lets his eyes fall closed. Eddie snakes his arms around Steve's neck, his nose brushing Steve's cheek as he presses a kiss to the corner of Steve's mouth. Then he's gone again. His feet carrying him nimbly and quicky away as Steve sways after him.

"Cool your jets Harrington. You still got work to do." He brushes hair out of his face, his finger curling around a piece on his cheek and tossing it aside. Steve nods. Shoves his hands into his pockets as he watches Eddie move back to his chair and drop himself into it.

"Whatever you want. I'll do it." Steve moves to his chair, sits down slowly, his eyes still glued to the boy in front of him. Eddie quirks an eyebrow but breaks into an easy smile almost immediately.

"Oh I looove the sound of that." He winks, kicks his foot at Steve's leg. Steve catches it easily, tugging Eddie's foot onto his thigh, his fingers wrapping around Eddie's ankle, holding him there. Eddie laughs, his head falling back, giving Steve the perfect view of his neck, and lets his foot stay there.

~*~

Steve's there early the next morning too. His fingers gripping the flowers he'd brought as he walks to the porch. Wayne Munson is sitting there, his legs outstretched and crossed in front him, a cigarette between his fingers.

"Comin back with your tail between your legs huh?" He asks, taking a drag, blowing his smoke to the side, away from Steve, he smiles, having watched Eddie do the exact same thing so many times.

"Somethin like that." Steve nods, lifting the flowers a little at his side. Wayne watches him for a moment, then jerks his head to the side.

"He's around back." Is all he says. Eddie had told Steve many times that his uncle was a man of very few words.

"Thanks." Steve nods, heads toward the back, acoustic guitar riffs floating out from around the trailer. He takes one step around the corner when,

"And son?" Steve stops, takes a step back, watches Mr. Munson stand as he flicks his cigarette butt into the dirt.

"You hurt that boy again? Me and yous gonna have words. Understand?" Steve feels his pulse quicken under Mr. Munson's weighted gaze.

"Yes sir." He says, his hand clenching at his side nervously. Wayne watches him again, for a long moment, it seems like forever.

"Go on then." He says, lingering a moment longer before ducking through the door.

Steve lets out a shakey breath and starts walking again, toward the soft stums he can hear. He smiles, walking around the trailer, his eyes falling on Eddie.

His hair is falling in his face, his guitar in his lap, as his hands move effortlessly. Steve stops, watching him. He could watch him play music all day, has actually, on a few occasions. His eyes almost always glued to Eddie's fingers, he can never get over the way they dance over the strings.

But Steve loves watching his face as he plays too, especially when it's the acoustic, it's softer, makes Eddie softer too. His eyes closed as he strums, fingers moving just so. Steve moves again, walking closer.

"Really? Deo? This early in the morning?" Steve teases, his hand moving across Eddie's shoulders as he passes behind him. He's not ready for the soft look he gets when Eddie looks up at him. He says nothing, but Steve can tell the smile there is because Steve knew what he was playing without being told.

"These are for you." Steve holds the flowers out. Eddie tucks his guitar pick into his pocket and reaches for them, his eyes wide.

"Whoa. Where the hell did you find black roses?" Eddie asks, his fingers moving gently across the petals, his stupid beautiful eyes looking up at Steve makes his breath catch in his throat.

"I uh, I kind of made them? Robin helped." He supplies, his hand waving toward the roses as he sits down.

"Youuu... made them?" Eddie's eyes wander back to the flowers, skeptical.

"Yeah. Well see, I asked Robin if she knew where I could get black flowers. And she said she had no idea, but that she knew how I could make some. So... I just did that instead." He shrugged. Eddie's eyes linger on the roses a little longer.

"That's an annoyingly good start." He huffs before he gently sets them down next to his chair, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smile, as he digs his guitar pick back out. Strumming a few cords before looking at Steve.

"Food coloring?" He asks, his nose scrunched up.

"Oh how did you know that? Did everyone know about this except me?" Steve huffs, his hands jumping on his knees and slapping back down. Eddie smiles at him, drops his eyes back to his guitar.

"Probably." He teases, closing his eyes as he beings playing again. Steve snorts, then closes his eyes and just listens. Eddie gets about half way through the song before he speaks again.

"I remember the first time I played you this song." He says, his hands still moving, making music. Steve was sure that's what they were made for.

"I remember." And he does.

"It was raining. And you were reading one of my comics. Laying on the couch." Eddie's eyebrows furrow as he navigates a tricky riff, they smooth out again once he gets past it, Steve watches him, mesmerized.

"So I put this song on. I don't think I'll ever forget the look on your face." He strums the last few notes and looks at Steve, his eyes shining with something Steve can't read.

"I wasn't ready for the song." Steve agrees, he remembers the moment too, the way it felt, hearing the lyrics, and he'd felt Eddie watching him. Hadn't minded.

"I know. But I'm glad I played it. Cuz I watched you listen to it. And I knew." Eddie tucked his guitar pick into his pocket again.

"Knew what?" Steve swallows as Eddie gets up, sets his guitar in his chair, and crosses the small space between them. He leans down, hands planting on the arms of Steve's chair. Steve just stares up at him as Eddie leans over him, his hair falling down around their faces as Eddie leans closer, closing the space between them.

"Knew you were like me." The words are whispered against Steve's lips before Eddie leans just that fraction further, sealing their lips together.

Steve hums into the kiss, feels Eddie smile into it and pulls him down onto his lap. Eddie laughs as the chair creaks under their combined weight. Steve's hands rest on Eddie's knees as he looks at him.

"I am. Like you." Steve says, as Eddie looks down at him. Steve can see the pink grow on Eddie cheeks as Steve stares, Eddie eventually ducking his head, resting it on Steve shoulder.

"I'm glad. That it's you. Glad you're like me." Eddie's hand is in his hair, his fingers jumpy against Steve's scalp. Steve flattens palm over Eddie's knee, moving his hand, just a fraction, up Eddie's thigh.

"Me too." Steve whispers, smiling when Eddie moves his hand to Steve's, lacing their fingers. They're quiet, for a moment, until the chair creaks again.

"Okay I have to get off you. Or we're gonna be on the ground, on our asses." Eddie rises to get up, Steve holds him as he struggles.

"Im fine with that. I don't mind being on your ass." Steve teases, smiling into Eddie's shoulder before tugging at the sleeve of his vest with his teeth.

"Harrington I don't know what kind of rich people chairs you're used to, but we will be impaled if this chair collapses. And then there's tetanus, and stiches, and it's just a lot okay." Eddie explains, still struggling against Steve's hold on him.

"We've had worse." Steve hums, nonplussed.

"God. Damn it! Lemme go!" His voice his high, little frustrated noises chiming in his throat as he tires to get away, Steve's favorite sounds. The chair creaks again and he squeaks.

"We. Are gonna diiiiiee!" He screeches, Steve laughs but finally lets him go. Eddie stumbles aways from him, soothing out his clothes and giving Steve a look, his lips pressed together tightly, his eyes wide and frustrated. Steve just laughs harder, his ribs aching by the end of it.

"You are such a drama que- ow! Fuck." The chair collapses beneath him, his ass slamming into the ground, one of the metal legs scratching his arm. He scrunches his face and looks up at Eddie, who's eyes are now wide with suprise, his mouth dropped open, and then he's howling. His head thrown back, his whole body shaking with laughter as Steve struggles to his feet. Eddie claps a few times, rapid fire, and then points at Steve, still laughing.

"I told you!" He claps again, rocking forward onto his toes.

"And look at that, you're bleeding. Tetanus. I told you. You're soooo dead. And! And!" He holds his finger up, tiptoeing into Steve's space.

"You owe me a new chair. Preferably before you die. But I will take a chair left to me in your will as compensation." Eddie presses his lips together, smiling at Steve. Steve looks at Eddie, his face so fucking close, wipes his hand over the small cut on his arm, it's barely bleeding, and shoves his hand into Eddie's face.

Eddie shrieks and flings himself backwards, flailing on the ground, his arms and legs splayed out dramatically.

"You've killed me!" He yells, shoving at Steve as he kneels down next to him, hovering over Eddie. Eddie shoves his face away, gently pawing at Steve's cheeks. Steve pins his wrists to the dirt and looks down at him, both of them breathing heavily from Eddie's dramatics. Eddie huffs out a breath and smiles.

"Takin me down with you. I see how it is." He sighs, looking up at Steve, his eyes full of something, Steve doesn't wanna say adoration, but something close enough. Steve nods then, presses into Eddie's space, their noses brushing. Eddie eyes flutter as Steve lingers.

"That was the plan, yeah." Steve breathes, pressing his lips to Eddie's and reveling in the happy noise that Eddie makes in his throat. Steve deepens the kiss, licking into Eddie's mouth, dragging a moan from him seconds before Eddie surges up and tackles Steve, spinning them so he has Steve pinned now.

"I love you too, but we maybe shouldn't do this in the yard." Eddie says, mischievous smirk on his lips as he yanks Steve to his feet, his heart pounding as he stares at Eddie, their hands still linked.

"I- I love you." Steve says, and they've done it backwards. Steve realizes that a second after he says it, that Eddie had said 'too'. But that was just so fucking Eddie. Eddie grins at him, tugs on his hand to get him closer.

"I know." He winks then, turning on his heels, grabbing his guitar with his free hand, and pulling Steve after him with the other.

Steve lets himself be pulled, they quietly move to Eddie's room, doing their best not to wake his uncle, sleeping in the living room. Eddie pins him to the door as soon as it's shut. His palms flat agaisnt it, bracketing Steve's head.

"You're mine now Harrington. No escaping this time." He whispers, nose teasing agaisnt Steve's playfully. Steve bites his lip, moves his hands to Eddie's hips and drags him closer.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be Munson." Eddie's nose scrunches as he bumps it into Steve's again. Steve laughs, and let's Eddie drag him to bed. They kick their shoes off and curl around each other, Eddie's arm slung over Steve's waist, his leg draped over both of Steve's. Steve's hand finds its why into Eddie's hair, moves down, finds a home resting against the back of his neck. Eddie hums happily into Steve's chest. He can't help but smile, if Eddie was a cat he'd be fucking purring, he makes another small noise and Steve supposes he basically is, cat or not. Eddie's grip tights around Steve as he snuggles closer.

"You're gonna be here when I wake up right?" Eddie asks, his voice sleep slurred and muffled agaisnt Steve's shirt.

"I'll be right here. As long as you want me to be." Steve whispers, pressing a kiss into Eddie's hair.

"Always want you here." He hums again, snuggling closer, his leg tangling with Steve's as he moves. Steve feels his muscles relax as Eddie's warmth seeps into him. His eyes fighting to stay open. His fingers curl into Eddie's hair.

"Then I'll be here. Always." He sighs, humming in unison with Eddie this time, both of them sinking deeper into each other, sleep washing over them as gentle rain begins to fall outside.

[nora-xox]

Hehehe well i have decided on doing this instead of working on my other fics lol also thank you for 50 followers

I love writing these it's so fun! And apparently I am now writing for Grayson too.

THIS IS A COLLAB WITH @thehoundwrites thank you so much honestly this wouldn't be possible without you. I thoroughly enjoyed working with you and I looked forward to the next time <3

please note this is 18+ read at your own risk

So here is pt 5 to my now on series lol

Grayson × Reader dying in her arms

warnings: Violence, blood, gore, drugs, torture, food, alcohol mention, police brutality, gross man comments, explosion mentions, mental breakdown, major character death, Hurt no comfort, and kidnapping,

· Your relationship with Grayson was very well known. The two of you were often out in public with each other, on dates or casual strolls through piltover. Finding any excuse you could to spend time with your lover.

· And even though she was a very busy woman, new cases, new recruits to train, more paperwork to finish, the two of you always found ways to spend time with each other, finding yourselves in need of quality time with each other.

· Everyone knows you were taken by THE Officer Grayson. All the enforcers who work under her even know you well, because you are always visiting her at work with any excuse.

· Although it had been a while since you and Grayson were able to go out on a real date. You haven't even been able to go out on your usual lunch dates with her either, as her cases have been piling up and keeping her extremely busy.

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

· Although this morning was much different than the usual mornings. It seems as though the whole week has been like that. Grayson's work has been keeping her so busy she has hardly been able to make it home or if she did it was only for a few hours so she could get some rest after a long day of work.

- You have been doing your best to have dinner or even a light snack made for whenever she gets home. Since sometimes all Grayson could bring herself to eat was something small, the stress of being an enforcer often getting to her. So you always were trying your best to help your lover in any way you could seeing as though this current case was clearly overwhelming her and you hated to see the one you love so stressed.

- After waiting for so long you finally decided that you were gonna set up a date between the two of you again. You hoped a bit of fresh air and some appreciation would give Grayson a well deserved break. Maybe even put a kind smile back on her face.

- You started out by planning out something that would be ideal. A date that wouldn't take up too much time, but at the same time it would be long enough to get her out of her head and long enough for you to immerse her in genuine love and appreciation.

- You spent so long planning for the date, thinking hard on what would be best for the two of you to both get what you really needed. You had decided that a picnic would be perfect. It would get her out of the house and the station. A picnic with its gentle breeze would calm the nerves, something you both very much needed.

- Since you had figured out the perfect day together you decided to tell Grayson that you have a surprise planned. You asked her to make some time for you and of course she was never one to say no to her lover.

- Throughout your week, you made the preparations like picking the perfect spot for your picnic, one with a good view of the city where your love flourished. Where the two of you met, where the two of you grew, where your love had thrived.

- You were so excited that you ended up making multiple trips to the market just to get the food needed for just a few of Grayson's favorite meals. And of course during the trips, you couldn't contain your excitement which striked a few other Piltovian’s curiosity. Which ignited a few enthusiastic exchanges with passerbys. So you got some advice from employees on your date, your plans innocently letting your plans out through loose lips.

- As the days passed and the preparations were as done as they could be. And after an exciting week the picnic day was finally here, as you’d been so eagerly waiting for.

- You had woken up to a beautiful sunny day with only a few clouds scattered in Piltover’s bright blue sky. It was the perfect weather for a picnic, you couldn't help smiling brightly knowing your day is going to go perfectly. So you had begun to get ready for your perfect date with your beloved partner Grayson.

- You put together your basket and your bags and even with those there were still too many things that couldn't fit in just the basket. You started to question yourself for a moment wondering if maybe you went a little overboard. But instead of fixating you had decided to brush that off. Letting any negative emotions go since you wanted your partner Grayson to have the best day she could and you hoped she would appreciate everything.

- You grabbed everything and made your way out of the door ready to go on your merry way to meet up with your partner eager to take her mind off the stress of work.

- You began your usual path to meet up with your lover. You looked around to admire the environment, excited for the potential of your day. You knew your date was going to be amazing and exactly what the two of you needed.

- Despite being so happy you found yourself so lost in thought about how perfect your date with Grayson was going to be that you didn't realize you had already made it to where you had planned to meet with your partner. Her voice was the one to wake you so you didn't just keep walking.

"Hello my little daydreamer, where are you going?" Grayson asked, her voice as gentle as always.

- Luckily her voice was able to snap you back into the real world, your eyes lighting up when you felt her presence, a bright smile across your lips as you look back at her apologizing and explaining that you were just lost in the thought of getting to spend time with her on your perfect little date.

- Grayson giving you her usual chuckle and gentle smile that you’ve grown to adore. You grabbed her hand and excitedly, noticing her typical leather gloves were not on, palms soft with age gripping back just as excited to go as you are. An exuberant "let's go!" sounding from your mouth.

- Happily leading the way to the chosen destination right outside the city, with a golden view. Grayson and you had talked about how much you've missed each other over the past few weeks. Acknowledging the unfortunate distance the two of you were forced to endure. She had mentioned that the thought of today was what kept her motivated for the past few days.

- Spending time together laughing and talking with the one you loved seemed to make the time fly by maybe too quickly still though moments like these seemed to make you the happiest. Moments like these are ones you'll be able to remember forever.

- With the time passing quickly, so did your walk.

- You pulled out the blanket and with help of Grayson the two of you set it down wide enough for both of you to sit comfortably. After both 0f you sat down, you started to pull out the many dishes you had prepared along with her favorite drink you had bought specially for her. And then just for a moment your head tilted, your eyes looked up at Grayson to seeing her gray ones watching you, smiling softly at you. Just knowing that you had made her this happy had caused you to blush lighty. She chuckled a bit, finding your tinted face adorable.

- Your sentence was interrupted by a somewhat familiar figure approaching from behind your lover, and unfortunately Grayson had seen the same happen behind you.

"This really is the perfect spot for us”Grayson’s head craned towards the city, looking at a street, you of course knowing exactly what she was eyeing. Just one of the many places your lover and you had bonded, remembering that this place was one of the places you’d normally walk down. One of the first places you had shared a kiss. One of those moments you'd always remember. She continued “I’m very happy you brought me here, my darling. I get to spend much needed time with my favorite company once again." Grayson said, her smile seemed to be unable to leave her face at this point.

" I’m really glad I can spend time with you again. It seems like it's been so long! I lo.."

"Watch-" was all Grayson could yell, trying to reach out to you in an attempt to pull you out of harm's way, her natural instinct to protect people intensified by her love for you.

- It was cold before it was dark, panic struck through every nerve as you tried desperately to move your limp body. Mind begging to save your lover however any movement was futile as your vision had already begun to fade into nothingness. Everything had gone black both of you waves of cold anguish shocking your body since the two of you had both been struck on the back of your head, not sure what to make of it other than hopelessness knowing that now there is nothing either of you can do that will save you.

- Consciousness had been fading in and out, you could vaguely remember brief moments of being dragged along a hard floor of some sort with a bag over your head unable to see through the dark of your containment, but you were not able to keep your consciousness despite your feeble attempts at it.

"Y/N! wake up! WAKE UP!' Desperate please clawed at your pounding head, you could feel your brain throbbing in your skull, your vision was shaky, your heart pounding.

- You hear Grayson yelling for you, screaming your name in a way you’d never heard before. Panic filling her voice, you’d never expected to hear her so terrified. Slowly you open your eyes only to see flashes of white, and a room that seemed to be moving, similar to a ship sinking deep into the deep waters of emptiness. When your vision was able to collect itself, although still throbbing you had seen the love of your life tied down to a metal post, you could see red marks across her dark skin knowing she’d spent her time awake trying to escape. Trying to save you. As if by instinct you tried to move your own body but you were unable to not only were you tied down your body was weak and tired head pounding at every rash movement you had attempted to make. You look down at your arms and legs seeing that you've been strapped down to a chair, feeling it climb across your skin, they'd even wrapped your stomach as an extra precaution.

"What…. Happened?" you asked Grayson your words not able to form completely your voice shook and your body was trembling, not realizing how hard you had been struck.

"I- I don't know what's going on but try to stay calm I will find us a way out of this" You could tell Grayson was trying to keep some composure, hearing how she had forced calmness but you could hear the fear and panic in her voice.

- Your eyes roam around the room, the pulse in your vision just now beginning to fade. You could see nothing more than some cases, bare walls, and a tied Grayson in an uncomfortably dark room.

- Out of nowhere you heard echoing footsteps approaching the room you'd been forced into. Distant voices growing as they got closer to the two of you.

- You couldn't look at her, did you get them into this?

"Heyyy Y/N! Officer. I hope ya’ two love birds is enjoying your stay. Glad ya’ took my advice. I knew Grayson would love strawberry wine. Seems like tha’ type. " a man says, seeming to enjoy the fear in your eyes, his own had been watching Grayson only now darting to your binds as he greeted you.

- Grayson’s gray eyes had been focusing on the man in an attempt to find an opening, although the wine comment made her eyes find you terrified.

- “Didn't get to try it, can you pour me some?” You said venom oozing out of your panic.

- “Of course princess” He smirks, reaching into one of the cases a small plastic cup twirling in his fingers before grabbing the wine you had recognized pulling the cork out and pouring it into the disposable medical cup making his way over to grayson and dropping it in her lap.

" What do you want from us?" Grayson says in a calm tone, underlying rage as you could see the ropes burning her skin.

- “Oops, sorry I'm a bit preoccupied” he said as a small knife was pulled out from his pocket.

The man chuckled "Don't worry princess it's only gonna get worse"

"Oh! Officer Grayson? It's so nice to finally meet you… in the flesh… You see this little show is all for you! Maybe you’ll learn not to pry in other people's business now" the man says with an eire smile and a wink to add to his facade,

" You didn't answer my question. What do you want?" Grayson says sternly, her patience clearly running thin, her eyes unable to look at you, scared of what she’ll see.

"heh you'll see. just be patient." he jokes arrogantly as he walks away, echoes of footsteps fading.

- As the minutes had passed the air had seemed to have fallen silent. Looking at Grayson you can see the concern in her eyes as she was finally able to look at you, despite not being able to escape her binds she still persisted. Desperate to rescue you, from the mess she created. Thoughts filled her head. Who are these people? What do they want? And of course the fact you're on a chair and she is chained to the floor. Why did they bring you into it? How did they know about you? Why are you in a chair?

-But the memory of playful glint in the man's eyes and the small glimmer of a knife protruding from his pocket made everything fall right into place. Her heartbeat quickened realizing what they were going to do, unable to control herself the rope scratched at her skin, small trickles of blood fell down her wrists, hot tears prickling in her eyes.

Why you? Why you? Why you? Was all she could think now.

You felt it too, how the air changed, you'd seen the blood drip from her wrists realizing her desperation yet unable to say anything as your breath took over. You were so scared you had to focus on remembering how to breath hot tears streaking your dirty face.

“ I promise I will get us out of this. I won't let them Hurt you. If anyone is gonna be hurt it’ll be me.” Grayson says with fear flooding her every word despite her desperate attempts to control herself, she was just as terrified as you.

“We have to give them what they want. I can't lose you.” Grayson as always tried to smile to hide her pain, the fear in her eyes was different though. You could see how terrified she really was.

- Not long after. Even though it had felt as though hours had passed by the two of you trying to control your bodies, only then did the man return but this time there were more people with him. Grayson stood, well sat her ground, staring each and everyone down her tears had faded instantly knowing she had to seem strong, even though she was crippled by fear.

- “I'll do whatever you want, just leave her out of this.” The man from before laughed at the thought. “We ain't in the mood for no deal's Officer” he seemed to be the leader.

- “Naw, this one's personal doll, a close friend for well.. her…” he said, blade now pointing at you.

- “One of ours for one of yours and you ain't got nobody else” The members around him chuckled at the thought.

“Then take me” She replied instantaneously. You tried to chime in with a protest but the man had it covered.

- A new person stepped forward grabbing the blade from the leader.

- “You see darling, I want you to see that your decisions have consequences and I have thought of the perfect way to show you.” the man slowly dragging the blade down your cheek not drawing blood but putting Grayson on edge with every movement he made not breaking eye contact for a moment

- The fear started to sink in. you could only imagine what their goal could be, their intentions. Thoughts of the past week filling your head . How many times have you spoken with that man ? Before you had made the choice of that wine, he had met you multiple times at the market while choosing out the ingredients for the food , he had seemed like just another innocent stall owner. What have you done! This all wouldn’t have happened if you had been more cautious of who you told but you had told so many you excitement having clouded your judgment

- With fear in your eyes you look towards Grayson.

The man continued on “ How does it feel Officer knowing that if you hadn’t gone so far as to make that order that you and your pretty little princess would be enjoying such an amazing date, ya know Y/N here spent days at the market picking out the best ingredients.”

- the other men chiming in with laughs and nods of agreement all seemingly eager for what was gonna happen next.

- Cold metal traced down your skin softly, no edge just the fear in your eyes as they darted between the man and Grayson

- “Plea-” You were about to beg when his knife pressed against your lips the blade pressing ever so harshly drawing red from the skin. A dark grin crossed the new mans face, getting joy from seeing red fall from your lips.

- “Shh- shh pretty girl it’ll all be over soon I promise” He said eyes wandering down your tied frame. Letting the blood stained knife drag harshly across your top cutting here and there as he applied different pressures across the clothing. Sometimes pressing sharp enough the blade would cut your clothes and your skin. Earning hisses and tears from you.

- A smirk played at his lips, his gloved fingers wiped away your tears harshly, letting his tongue slide out to taste them just a bit. “Damn” He cursed quietly “Wish the boss would let me have more fun with you… darling” He said the last comment loud enough for Grayson to hear. Her jaw clenched as she strained to help you.

- “Alright- Okay enough fun”

“-Name- go get the case over there”

- The man heading to the cases you had seen earlier heard a slight clunk sound when they picked it up. Then walking to the man seemingly in charge holding up the case for him to open

- “see this here this is the main event of this evening, this is what you caused when you interrupted our day with that little raid you ordered.’ the man looking at Grayson as he opens the case of what you could only assume was shimmer. But something seemed off the color? Or was it bubbling? You couldn’t tell completely what was wrong with it but it was clear it wasn’t normal.

- looking back over to Grayson you could see the shock in her eyes. She had heard of failed shimmer batches but she had never seen some in vials. The look of horror as she then made and just for a moment held eye contact with you before her eyes quickly darted back to the man as his movement drew her attention. He was pulling a vile out of the case

“Can you guess who this is for?”

-Grayson immediately yelled “give it to me please spare her this is my fault what happened is my fault I ordered the raid It was one of my men who got one of yours Y/N had nothing to do with this please! Please don’t hurt her anymore!” Graysons desperation dripping out of her pleads was louder and ever more clear in her voice. The knowledge she had of what normal shimmer does to the body alone the thought of what messed up batch could do was even more horrifying.

- “Now now that is not the answer and we both know it” the man now moving closer to you spinning the vial of incomplete contaminated shimmer through his fingers. His intent ran clear across his face. He was enjoying every bit of what he was doing and he wasn’t hiding his excitement for what he was planning to do next.

- You watched every movement, vision hazy as pain coursed through your body, his eyes glued to your look of shock and panic, a disgustingly wide smile on his face as he was extra careful not to let his skin even touch the glass container that held the contaminated shimmer. Two men followed with two vials in each of their hands. The man began to open up the vial before getting an idea.

- “Y'know what, How about we have the officer taste test it huh?” He said winking at you before turning and striding towards your confined partner her face was near a snarl as he approached and knelt before her you couldn't see what happened next all you heard is a growl and a screech that your lover let out you could hear her cries and the scratch of her husky voice make the scream deafening. It made your blood curdle “No please! Please leave her alone '' You cried, you couldn't. You wouldn't. It had to be you. It couldn't be her. She deserved so much better, she was kind and gentle and nurturing. The best human being you’d ever known. She was perfect.

- “Please please please” You and Graysons pleading were almost in unison at this point, her more desperate husky voice cracking since her throat was now damaged from the scream from the pain of acid on her leg. The man turned to you “Dont worry baby youre next” You couldnt tell if he was laughing or if he was just fucking crazy. You didn't care. But you knew this and you knew you were next.

- He approached you with purple liquid bubbling out of the top of the glass vial, your eyes widened like a deer in headlights, your sobs and begs quieting down. There was nothing you could do, even your lovers please felt distant. Everything is fading away except maniacal eyes staring you down, glowing liquid and the sound of every single ounce left in you that wanted to figh leaving your body. Your lips moved as you tried to say please don't, but it was just an exhale of air.

- “Good girl, drink up.” He said, letting the bubbles hit your leg sobs leaving your chest before a man from behind pulled the back of your head against his stomach, gloved fingers stretching your cheeks so that you had no choice but to keep your mouth open and drink his poison. Bubbles like acid that had reached your thigh dripped over your stomach and your chin, before dripping the rest of its contents into your mouth as much as you tried to spit it out to get it out you couldn't. The contaminated shimmer dripped into your throat. You could feel all of the shimmering liquid corroding whatever it touched, burning it harshly. Tears streaming down your bloodied dirtied cheeks as you try to shake your head away. Tried to get loose. Try to make yourself vomit the shimmer back up. But you couldn't move. Your brain felt like mush and you could barely breathe. The only thing you could bring yourself to say was your soulmate's name as if you don't ever want to say anything else. You couldn't say anything else. Her name always felt so right, always brought you comfort even in the darkest or loneliest of times. You hoped it would help now. It did a little. But this night was darker. Darker than any other. Even your lover couldnt help you now. “Grayson… Grayson…. Grayson…”

- “Good call her name, I’m sure she'll be so much help” he chuckled.

- As soon as he left you a sobbing mess only able to call out your lover's name he turned to walk to Grayson, your pained sobs turned into chokes knowing she was next.

- “Unlike your plaything we won't be killing you, we’ll just have a little fun while the doll rots away.” Nothing but an angered scream of what you would’ve thought was a cornered animal in a fight for its life left Grayson.

- He was right there standing above her, you scrunch your eyes shut wanting your last thoughts to be of her smile, the date. She laughs, her name, her touch, anything good. But the building around you rumbled, shaking everything a whole bunch a clunks and thuds sounded.

- “AIN'T THAT SILCOS KID?, HELL NAW BOSS WE DIDN'T SIGN UP FOR THIS”

- Your vision was blurry you started to fade away you couldn't really tell what happened next but you felt a warm body in front of you the same knife that was used against you was now being used against your binding.

- “Hold on just a little longer” , Grayson pulling off your restraints and lifting your body from the chair, the pain in her leg causing a limp but hearing your wheezing with every movement. Panic encasing Grayson and yet she still held hope if she could just get you to a doctor everything was gonna be okay. She repeated that to herself over and over again in her head. Now doing her best to carry you out of the dingy and dark building.

- finally seeing a door Grayson picks up the pace to the best of her ability the hope she had fueling her every movement. She was going to get you to safety. Closer and closer she moved to the door every step fueling her determination.

- Finally reaching the door a small rush of joy filled Grayson as she opened the door and stepped out of the building. The sight crushed her. The two of you were in Zaun nowhere near any doctor or way of transportation anywhere near any place of safety. A feeling of crushing defeat overwhelmed Grayson causing her to stagger backwards almost falling over. Her mind flooded her head.with mixed emotions, all negative. Her hope was crushed all at once as her heart pounded screaming into the darkness of the polluted alleyway you were stuck in.

- A sudden cough from you causing her to snap out of it realizing that she has no time to waste and that she could still get the only one left she loved to safety she had to and there was still a chance right? She thought to herself, keeping herself, keeping her blind hope alive.

- A new wave of determination casted over Grayson. She had to save you, you were all she had left. You had to live. There was no choice.

- A weak whisper of her name caused emotional Gray eyes to find you as you looked up to her. “You have to let me go” Her own widened in horror as she knew what you were going to say next. “It’ll be ok-”

- “Grayson” you mumbled weakly, cutting her off. “Please.”

- You knew, she knew. She wanted to deny it, but there's no way in her injured state she’d be able to save you. No matter how fast she could claw her way back up to Piltover. At this point there was no hiding it. Her composure was lost as she finally let her emotions bubble over, hot tears burning her face as she slid to the floor landing harshly against pavement and trash, uniform scratched by the rugged brick wall behind her. Your body laid meekly in her lap as she stroked your hair.

“No, please darling. You can't die on me”

- “ this… was supposed to be… the.. perfect day…’ you say through your last staggering breaths.

- Grayson feeling the last bit of life leaving your body, your arm that attempted to reach to stroke her face one last time hung loosely at your side, your breaths coming to a halt but a smile on your face. Yourface. Your last moments were of the perfect date you'd planned for the two of you. Thoughts of her kind smile and loving eyes. Her heart dropped as your body had now gone blue, almost blue, almost pale by now as most of your blood had already left your open wounds, your eyes looking at her. A sight she’ll never be able to unsee.

- Graysons tan arms held you gently stroking your face as if you were only just asleep. She smiled gently before harsh reality set in, noticing scratchy red rashes with trickling blood droplets forming wounds a bit too deep. The ropes would cause permanent scars, ones that will never go away. Only fade.

- A husky voice usually so calm was now wailing her thighs holding you up as her hands gripped at her graying her forehead pressed against your bloody chest rocking only a bit trying to regain the senses. A deafening mix of whimpers and whispers escaping her in the forms of curses and please and why couldn't it have been me’s. She held your body tight to her chest refusing to let go unstoppable tears rushing from the corners of her eyes.

- From a distance Grayson could hear muffled sounds of enforcers. As they approached they were shocked at the sight they now laid their eyes upon. It was their Chief covered in blood, sobbing and the most noticeable and horrifying sight was what or more so who was in her lap. They saw the lifeless body of their Chiefs beloved and most cherished darling. The smiling person who always visited during the lunch breaks, the one who baked goods for the force, The one they all grew accustomed to visiting at random parts of the day with any excuse to see Grayson. Now resting dead and wide eyed in front of them. Both covered in hideous scars, and soaked in blood. No one could quite comprehend what had happened, how could this happen on the day that was supposed to be perfect for them.

- You had run your mouth off to them only since they promised to keep it a secret from Grayson, all of them unanimously agreeing that she deserved a happy little date with her beloved. They knew as well as you did. Which… Right now.. Seemed as though it still… wasn't much.

[rainiishowers]

Incorrect Quotes

A/N: Could I be working on my drafts? Yes, but these are much funner, enjoy! Warnings: Tiny spoilers for lesson 16, some implied brother x mc if you squint ---

Lucifer: This is a mistake Diavolo, enthusiastically: A mistake we're going to laugh about one day! Lucifer: But not today Diavolo, still enthusiastic: Oh, no. Today's going to be a mess - MC: Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be fine! Satan: How can you still say that? MC: Because sometimes, when things get tough, denial is all we have. - Beelzebub: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me. Belphegor: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you? Beelzebub: Mmhm! MC: MC: I'm starting to feel more sorry for you.. -

MC: I told Belphie his ears flush when he lies. Lucifer: Why? MC: Watch. MC: Hey! Belphie, do you love us? Belphegor, covering his ears: No. Lucifer: - Asmodeus: Any idiot would know that. Mammon: I knew that! Asmodeus: See? - Luke: Do you think different paints have different tastes? Solomon: They do. Simeon: ...Why did you say that with such certainty? - Simeon: What if I press the brake and gas at the same time? Solomon: The car takes a screenshot. Barbatos: For the last time, get the fuck out. - Belphegor: I’ve never asked someone out. How do you even do it? MC: Oh, what I do is, I look them up and down and I say: “Hey… how you doin’?” Belphegor, scoffing: Oh, please. MC, to Leviathan: Hey, how you doin’? Leviathan: Leviafhan: Arfsvftrbgtrfedyt - Leviathan: My favorite outdoor activity is going back inside. - MC: What do you call a dictionary on drugs? Lucifer: If you say "addict-ionary" I swear I will hang you. MC: I was actually going to say "high definition", but your answer's much better. Lucifer: - Mammon: Caw caw, motherfuckers. - Mammon: Oooh, a train! Lucifer: We’re at a train station, Mammon. - The twins as kids, probably Beelzebub: I’m so excited! Belphegor: We’re gonna have the best costumes, get the most candy... Beelzebub: And have the biggest stomach aches ever! Belphegor: Yea! - Mammon: Like, no offense to myself and all, but what the fuck am I actually doing? - Beelzebub: So, what are we doing? Belphegor: Wasting our lives. Beelzebub: ..I meant for lunch.. Belphegor: Beelzebub: ..I’m getting Lucifer to set a therapy appointment for you.. - Belphegor: I feel awful about killing you. MC: Belphegor: Even though technically you never even died, so I don’t know what you’re bitching about. - Asmodeus: There. How do I look? Barbatos: Like a cheap French harlot. Asmodeus: French?! - MC: Why do you let me win when we race up the stairs? You’re the faster one. Mammon: Erm... it’s nice see your smile when you win! *Later* MC: He was probably just staring at my ass, wasn’t he? Asmodeus: Yeah, probably. - Beelzebub. tearing up the room: Where are they? Beelzebub, looking under a pillow: Who moved them? Who moved my children? Beelzebub: Somebody moved my M&M's, and now I am going to start killing. - Barbatos: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out. Lucifer: Fucking Solomon and MC were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting. Diavolo: ..Again? - MC: I did it! I memorized everything in the book! I'm gonna ace this test! Satan: Ok, MC, I'll give you one more question before you go. What ended in 1918? MC: 1917 Mammon: ...You're ready. - MC: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends Asmodeus, to MC: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual. Belphegor, to MC: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire. Satan: There are two types of people.

[lumentears]

Bloodborne NPCs rated by how well they would treat me on a date, from worst to best

Gascoigne's daughters obviously excluded.

21. Suspicious beggar

Listen, I know we all want a gentleman in the streets and a beast in the sheets, but we literally find him hunched over eating some people meat, and honestly, I'd rather you just take me to Denny's.

Rating: Even I, as a monsterfucker, must decline.

20. Skeptical man

I bet he would spend the entire time telling me about his upstart cheap funeral business. Scratch that, he'd take me to his upstart cheap funeral business and expect me to be impressed by his predatory installment payments and hidden fees.

Rating: No, I don't think buy-one-get-one-free is appropriate here, my guy.

19: Lonely old woman

I don't want to come off like a DARE-enthusiast but she literally needs sedatives in order to treat my like a human being. If you're going to need to pop some pills to stand the sight of me, I don't think we're right for each other.

Rating: Winners don't do drugs or something

18: Patches the Spider

Now, not to victim blame myself in this hypothetical situation, but with Patches, you know what you're getting into. You don't date a guy called Patches the Spider expecting him to be your one. You expect him to be the one that leaves you with the bill at an expensive restaurant.

Rating: Sends the most pathetic apology texts.

17: Old Hunter Yamamura

Big conspiracy theory vibes on this guy. Not neccessarily harmful, but you just can't keep a conversation going with a man who insists on reading you his conspiracy themed slam poetry.

Rating: Bad dates are a curse, and a curse is a shackle.

16: Iosefka, the real one

Please remember that this list is only concerned with the datability of the NPC, not how cute I personally find them. And, sadly, I think Iosefka gives off big married to her job vibes. Lots of so sorry, i got swamped at the clinic texts at 8pm while I've been inhaling free breadsticks at the Yharnam olive garden with nobody to stop me and only the pity of the staff for company as I insist my date will show up any second now.

Rating: *shoving old memes into my purse* I have to leave immediately

15: Provost Willem

It's Friends reruns at his place or nothing with this dude. Will not get up from his comfy chair and you'll have to find the snacks at his house on your own.

Rating: "Fear the old blood"? Not very adventurous of you.

14: Fauxsefka

Very hot and cold. I am 100 % aware that any date with Fauxsefka is going to end with me being experimented upon, but until then, I'll be in for a delightfully sinister night. The most unselfaware evil date of them all.

Rating: "Don't worry...I'll be with you for the rest of your life."

13: Vileblood Hunter Alfred

Yeah, yeah, I know he's dreamy. I just don't have the energy to listen to a guy who's clearly still hung up on his ex. I don't want to compete with a dude named Martyr Logarius.

Rating: Looking for a martyr in your relationship just doesn't seem healthy to me.

12: Brador

He's got the YA bad boy vibes. Just look at his laid-back lean, his long hair, his antlers...

Imagine going out to do whatever YA bad boys do on a date...smoking in public and heckling skaters at a skatepark or something, only to find out that the dude you're on a date with used to be an assassin for the church. What are you going to talk about now? Can you even ask questions anymore? What he lets something slip you weren't supposed to know and now he has to kill you?

Rating: 20 questions is probably off the table.

11: Annalise, queen of the vilebloods

She's always a tad distant, don't you think? Like yes, I will take the 5 bad leftist points and admit sometimes thinking about being courted by a queen like in the good old times is big sexy, but in reality as long as she insists I kneel before talking to her we'll never see eye to eye.

Rating: Also she canonically rejects you after offering her the ring of betrothal and I don't think I can handle that.

10: Valtr

Not a bad guy, per se. Definitely has the influence to take me somewhere nice. I'm just very uncomfortable by the fact that he apparently has never heard of trapping the vermin under a glass and putting it outside. Valtr, you don't have to kill the wiggly blood centipede because it's gross!

Rating: Fake date scheme: Instead of calling an exterminator, fake date a hunter.

9: Adella the Nun

It pains me very much to say this, but realistically, Adella probably wouldn't be the best date. You'd ask her where she wanted to go and she'd be all like "oh, I don't mind as long as it's with you" and you'd be left thinking "what a nice sentiment, but we've been dating for five months and I still don't know anything about your interests!"

Rating: Voted most likely to say I love you on the first date.

8: Simon the Harrowed

A tad gossipy. He would be all like "Do you know why this Six Flags was closed last summer? Apparently two kids got flung out of the roller coaster only two months apart, and all they did over the summer was raise the minimum age of that coaster." Like, thanks for the fun facts but do you think you could have chosen literally any other point in time to divulge it than when we were being strapped in for the roller coaster ride?

7: Retired Hunter Djura

A compassionate man! Also a man that would have his house filled with a shit ton of animals he rescued, and would introduce you to each and every one. That's cute and all, but you're never quite sure if he actually knows what he's doing with all these animals.

Rating: Do...do you have a license to keep that alligator?

6: The Doll

Makes you the best tea. Actually, she would take you on the best date, but there'd always be something missing. I'd always be wondering if she isn't just mirroring what she thinks I'd want out of a date.

Rating: Don't mind me spiralling over the moral implications of dating the doll.

5: Saint Adeline

She's kind, gentle and incredibly sweet. She'd also mention some fucked up self-depricating thing about herself or her past so offhandedly that you wouldn't even know where to begin to talk about it, and she's dropped that verbal bomb like it's nothing, but it would leave you a tad uncomfortable nevertheless.

Rating: Hold up. Wait. Just a second. You know it's not healthy to refer to yourself as nothing, right?

4: Gilbert

We're both outsiders in a city that's notably very unfriendly towards outsiders. There's so much to bond over, and we could help each other with our respective troubles! Sadly, he is in the process of turning into a beast, but he's being safe about it and everything!

Rating: Suspicious beggar wishes he were you.

3: Arianna, Woman of the Night

If common theories are to be believed, she really is the best of both worlds: Descended of the Vilebloods but also one of us common folk. And she's got a stable income, honestly, what can't this woman do? Of course, there's the whole eldritch pregnant with an alien baby situation, but honestly, it's your loss if you're not up to it.

Rating: What more can I say but MILFBACAL (mother i'd like to fuck but also cherish and love)?

2: Oedon Chapel Dweller

Seems to me like a real picnic date person. Definitely has some moments of uncomfortable self-deprecation as well, but I think they just need some support in order to get the help they need to find their way out of those patterns.

Rating: Hands just the right size to hold.

1: Eileen the Crow

She's just got it figured out. Of all of the Bloodborne NPCs, she's the one who's got her life together, well, as together as one can have their life in Yharnam. She's got a stable job, she knows when to quit, and even if she's grouchy about it, she will accept help when she needs it. She's an outsider too, but she's also got plenty of experience in Yharnam and in life in general.

Rating: Sweep me off my feet any time!

[bills-bible-basics]

Why Am I in Facebook Jail? A lot of people seem to be confused regarding why they are sometimes -- and in some cases, often -- thrown into Facebook's infamous jail. I would like to share with you some of my personal observations, for your consideration. You can either accept it or reject it, as you please. Being thrown into Facebook jail does not necessarily just have to do with what you post. In other words, it is not solely -- or even always -- based on the nature of the content of your post. Yes, if you post something nasty such as porn, or something that Facebook views as strong hate speech, or try to sell guns or drugs, for example, I am sure that Facebook will throw you in jail. They may even just ban you from Facebook entirely and permanently. Can you really blame them? But extreme cases aside, my observation is that whether or not you are slapped on the wrist by Facebook has more to do with the frequency of your posts, and to how many other people you post, share, message or tag your content to within a specified period of time. That is why sometimes when you are chastised, a Facebook bot will send you a message telling you to slow down. Please notice that I said TO OTHER PEOPLE in the previous paragraph. You can post things on your own timeline to your heart's content, as much as you want, as fast as you want, and in whatever quantity you want. Facebook doesn't really care about that as much -- unless you are breaking their content rules obviously -- because you are on your own turf. It is when you start reaching out to others that Facebook keeps a sharper eye on your activity, and watches out for what appears to be spamming behavior. As I have mentioned before, when it comes to us Facebook Christians, I don't really think that being blocked, restricted, thrown in jail, or whatever, is solely because of our Christian beliefs. Yes, it is sometimes due to sharing our faith, but not always. In fact, I am convinced that quite often, our being chastised by Facebook is due to other reasons. Personally, I think it has more to do with the fact that, on the whole, we Christians on Facebook tend to be a rather zealous, enthusiastic lot of people. We have the truth of God's Word, and so we really want to share it with as many people as possible. Therein lies the problem, and the reason why some of us find ourselves facing jail time a lot more often than others. So because of our zeal for the Lord, what do we do? Quite simply, we go overboard sometimes. We post, tag, message and share to other Facebook users, more frequently, and to more people, than Facebook's quota algorithms allow. That is why so many of us get castigated, in my belief. In short, we do it to ourselves, and then we turn around and accuse Facebook of persecuting us because of our faith, when, in my view, that may not really be what is happening in some cases. For example, when I first joined Facebook in early 2011, and before I learned the ropes, I was blocked, restricted or thrown in jail a few times, because I didn't yet fully understand the aforementioned quota system, limitations and anti-spam safeguards that Facebook has in place. And to be honest, there were probably times when I honestly didn't care, and was willing to take the risks, because I wanted to get out the Word. How about you? Come on now. Be honest with yourself. Once I figured it all out, I wasn't chastised by Facebook for years, because I made sure that I played within their rules of conduct. That is, until the time when I began tagging my friends again, after receiving their specific permission to do so. This is a very important point, so please listen up. You really don't want to start tagging people left and right, whether they are your friends or not, unless you know for certain that they want to be tagged. Why take unnecessary risks? Let me put it to you this way. If you keep tagging a pile of people from whom you did not receive permission first, sooner or later, some of them are going to become annoyed, and you are going to find yourself in a big heap of trouble. Now here's the thing. If they do become annoyed by your constant tags, they may not play nice. In other words, instead of asking you nicely to stop tagging them, they may just go behind your back and start marking all of your tags as spam. Do you know what will happen if Facebook receives enough complaints regarding your uninvited tags? That's right! To jail you go, buddy! You see. You did it to yourself. Of course, the problem here is that we users don't know what Facebook's daily quotas are for different activities, because they absolutely refuse to tell us. Not only that, but Facebook is always changing the value of these daily quotas, in order to keep us off guard. I understand the logic of their approach. It is a way to force us to be conscious of what we are doing, and to be careful regarding our posting, sharing, messaging and tagging levels. Now, one thing you don't want to do is to keep making the same mistake over and over again. If Facebook suddenly restricts your activities, or throws you in jail, don't just get angry at them. Stop and try to figure out why you find yourself in that situation. What were you doing beforehand? You see, the way it works is this: Each time that you make the same mistake, Facebook's automated system sees that, and your punishment time -- that is, your jail time -- will simply be extended longer and longer each time that you make that same mistake, to the point where you may find yourself spending more time in jail, than out of jail. Kind of dumb on your part isn't it? Let me emphasize again that it is not just about the quantity of your posts, shares, messages, tags or whatever. It is also about the frequency or speed with which you do it. In other words, let's assume that on one particular day, Facebook has set a tagging quota of 200 per user. Of course, you will have no way of knowing that this is the quota for that day. But let's say that you have only tagged 60 people that day, when all of a sudden, you are booted to jail. Wow! What happened? Surely you hadn't tagged too many people already! In other words, maybe you didn't break the quantity quota that day, but maybe you did break the frequency -- or speed -- quota. In other words, you were tagging people too fast, and Facebook's system interpreted that as spam activity. Do you understand? To reiterate, sometimes we are indeed harassed unfairly by liberal-minded Facebook employees who are annoyed by or who disagree with our Christian faith. After all, there are rotten apples in every barrel. But sometimes we also bring these problems upon ourselves by breaking Facebook's posting, sharing and tagging rules. In conclusion, when you are stopped, jailed, blocked or locked out of your account, quite often it is a result of Facebook trying to control spam and other forms of abuse on its global network, and may have little to do with your personal faith. With an estimated two billion users, many millions of whom are simultaneously online every single day, it is not an easy task. As a result, sometimes their bots and algorithms do make mistakes, or what are referred to as "false positives". Their bots can be overly aggressive, and they incorrectly identify some actions taken by users. Facebook has admitted as much. But at least Skynet hasn't arrived yet, and we aren't just being wiped out! :) So that is my take on this issue. What do YOU think? https://www.billkochman.com/Blog/index.php/why-am-i-in-facebook-jail/?feed_id=175971&Why%20Am%20I%20in%20Facebook%20Jail%3F