#i dunno if this works but I am committing

[riotavarez]

closed starter, bad moon brewing @moonglowmagic; poppy

"So how long till your dad attacks the town?" Arlo asked plainly over the rim of her beer a small smirk on her lips at the blonde. It was splashed across every newspaper she had seen recently. Silas Chamberlain has escaped. Beware. She'd been on edge ever since Kyle and Theo had revealed themselves for what they were, and with her luck, Poppy's father would soon be in town - shoving her off the precarious precipice she was balancing on. "Cause I would rather not be here when he does, I attract enough trouble as it is, I don't need your daddy dearest adding to it." She joked, though there was certainly an element of truth to her words. "How are you holding up with it all?"

[camellia-thea]

will probably post a bit about. new hobby. once things arrive and i get into it. here's to hoping

[skylarsblue]

I still have more. More Incorrect Quotes.

(Accidentally had a lot more fem!Y/N than intended but it's overall GN!) Alex: What made you think you’d be good for the military? Y/N: I worked at a Waffle House in America. Alex: Ah, alright, that makes sense.

-- (Interrogating Valeria)

Y/N: Look, Gaz, you know me. I can't- I can't do it. Gaz: Why not? Why can't you interrogate her? Y/N: Because I'm a bisexual with mommy issues, Gaz. And she's as pretty as she is scary. I'm already not that intimidating, she'll laugh at me when I start stuttering and then I'll just be horny. It can't be me. Gaz: ....okay, I'll ask Alejandro-

-- Y/N: I just realized something...I had a bad childhood. Gaz: Yeah we know. Y/N: What do you mean you know? Soap: Look at how you stand! People who had good childhoods don't stand like that. Y/N: How do I stand?! Gaz: Like Ghost. Ghost: ...I don't appreciate the call out but fair-

-- Price: Where are you going?! Y/N: To either get ice cream or commit a felony, I'll decide in the car!

-- Ghost after watching Fem!Y/N do an incredibly risky move: I just...Is she blind?? Suffering some form of brain damage?

-- (Tw; Hollywood Undead unalive song)

Y/N: My legs are dangling off the edge, the bottom of the bottle is my only friend, I think I'll sli- Price: EXCUSE ME?! WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT?? Y/N: Wh- No Captain, it's just a so- Price: GHOST GET THE BASE PSYCH ON THE PHONE Y/N: CAPTAIN IT'S A SONG I'M FINE- Well I'm not bUT NO WAIT HANG ON-

-- Valeria: *screaming in spanish* Y/N: ... Gaz: Don't. Y/N, blushing: I'm trying-

-- (During movie night; watching Venom)

Y/N: *pauses on that scene where Venoms sticks his tongue out at the guy in the street* ....Hear me out- Gaz: NO! NO. Y/N: NO NO LISTEN, LISTEN- Soap: Let them speak. Gaz: Don't encourage this! Y/N, pointing at the screen: LOOK AT IT! LOOK! Objectively you have to understand- Gaz: NOOO, it eats people! Soap: THAT TONGUE IS THREE FEET LONG AT LEAST! Gaz: No, I will not be hearing anyone out! I- GHOST, Ghost, back me up. Tell them they shouldn't want to fuck the ALIEN. Ghost, looking at the screen: Ethically, it's wrong. Gaz: Thank you. Ghost: ...objectively- Y/N: AHA! SEE?!

-- Ghost: *bends over* Y/N: *silently flips out* Soap, quietly: Wh-what? What are you-?! Y/N: SHHH *grabs Soap's jaw and turns him to look* Soap: *slack jaw* Damn- Y/N: fuckingdamnindeed- Ghost: *turns around* Soap: So it's your turn to pick dinner, what're you thinking? Y/N: Oh I dunno, maybe something pork related, uh, or cake- Soap: Aha, yeah...cake. Ghost: ....??

--

Fem!Y/N: I am not the mom of 141, that's ridiculous. Someone: You make all of them lunch every day with fruit cut into shapes, IN PERSONALIZED LUNCH BOXES Fem!Y/N: They need nutrition! Someone: You color code their items- Fem!Y/N: Look, if you were there for the item mix-ups you'd understand. Someone: YOU ARE LITERALLY FOLDING AND LABELLING THEIR LAUNDRY WITH A SHARPIE ON THE TAGS. Fem!Y/N: *holding Simon's skull boxers, writing his name on the tag* That- ...oh my god I'm the mom.

-- Ghost, watching Soap run past: WHAT DO YOU HAVE?! Soap, grinning & sprinting: A FUCKIN' BOMB Ghost: NO!!!

-- Price: Y/N, this is Lieutenant Riley, you can call him Ghost. Ghost: Y/N, looking him up and down: ...you got daddy issues? Ghost: ....maybe Y/N: Cool, same. Pleasure to meet'cha, sorry life gave you shit. Ghost, shaking their hand: Ditto. Price: *concerned sigh*

-- Price, walking into the common area at 10 pm: What in the world- Gaz, Soap, and Y/N: *all in there pyjamas with face masks on, eating snacks* Y/N: *slowly keeps chewing* Gaz: ...heeeyy siiirr... Price: It was lights out an hour ago, what are you lot doing? Soap: *slowly raises another face mask* ....Self care, sir? Price: ... Ghost, walking in at midnight for water: ....what. Soap, Gaz, Price, and Y/N: *stop gossiping* Gaz: ....hey. Soap: Evenin' L.T. Y/N: Howdy. Ghost: *looks at Price with a face mask on* Ghost: ...*sighs and sits down* Pass the Goldfish. Soap: Yeaaaah, good man! Welcome to the party!

-- Shepard: Is anyone here straight?! Price: ...*hesitantly raises hand* Laswell: *pushes his hand back down*

-- Valeria: *angry ranting* Y/N, a captive: Stop being so mean to me or I swear to god I'm gonna fall in love with you!

-- Ghost: What in the hell are you doing? Y/N: Laying in the rain. Ghost: Why? Y/N: If I lay here long enough, it feels like it washes the sad away. So I'm gonna lay here until the sad is gone. Ghost: You'll get sick. Y/N: Better sick than sad, sir. Ghost: ...*looks at the sky, back down, sighs* Ghost: *lays down on the tarmac* Y/N: Got a lot of sad? Ghost: ...Yeah. Y/N: If the rain doesn't take care of it, let's trade sads. Then it'll at least be a different kind of sad. Ghost: Not sure you want my sad. Y/N: Maybe not, but I don't think you should have to handle your sad alone either. Ghost: ...alright. Y/N: Cool.

-- Price: Simon, it's three o' clock in the morning. Why on earth are you making chocolate pudding? Ghost: Because I've lost control of my life.

-- Soap, with a gunshot wound: Do I regret it? Yes. Will I do it again? Most likely.

-- Y/N after doing something so badass it would fit in a movie: ...DID EVERYONE SEE THAT?? CAUSE I WILL NOT BE DOING IT AGAIN.

-- Ghost: You kidnapped the prime minister's daughter? That's illegal! Soap: Okay, Ghost, but what's more illegal? Briefly inconveniencing the prime minister's daughter, or destroying 141? Ghost: KIDNAPPING THE PRIME MINISTER'S DAUGHTER, JOHNNY! Fem!Y/N: Do you guys have like, a water or something? Snack maybe? No?

-- Y/N: I think there's been some confusion. I'm not the one in trouble here. Enemy Soldier: ...What? Y/N: There are only four of you. You'll need more than that. Gaz, hearing it over the intercom: ...they're gonna whoop-ass but we should probably go help them.

-- Someone: Why are you doing their straps for them? Price: They don't like velcro. Someone: Just do it yourself! Y/N: I'm not touching that stuff! I'll get neurotypical cooties.

-- Y/N, high on painkillers: If yo leg get cut off, would it hurt? Soap, in a hospital bed beside them: ...DUH Y/N: How though? Soap: Cause your leg got cut off! Y/N: Where you gonna feel the pain? Soap: In your le.... Y/N: Exactly bro! How you gonna feel the pain in yo leg if- Both: If your leg is gone! Soap: Whoooaaa... Y/N: Bro I swear, we're geniuses. Ghost, on his last brain cell: Fuckin'ell.

-- Ghost, about to lose his shit: Dear lord, I know we haven't spoken in a long time but if you could give me a little patience-

-- Gaz: Do you believe in God? Y/N: ...Yes & no. Gaz: Yes & No? What do you mean? Y/N: I believe there is a higher power, I believe a God exists. But...believing in God? Now that...haven't done that in a long time.

--

Gaz & Y/N: *dancing* Ghost: Can you two be serious for five seconds? Gaz, bustin' a move: Dunno sir, can you have fun for five seconds? Y/N: *stops and looks at Gaz* Gaz: *stops and is filled with instant regret* ...uh, sir, I- Ghost: Tell you what. I'll give you five seconds...to start running- Gaz: *turns to run and sees Y/N already yards away* YOU LEFT ME?! Y/N: I WANNA LIVE!!!!

-- Ghost: What are they doing? Price: Arguing in morse code. Soap: - .... .- - .----. ... / .-- .... -.-- / -.-- --- ..- .-. / ... .... --- . ... / .-. .- --. --. . -.. -.-- Gaz: -.-- .- / -- --- -- -- .- Soap: YOU FUCKIN' TAKE THAT BACK-

-- Soap: Keep your eyes closed, I have a surpriiisee!~ Ghost: You did your paperwork? Soap: I said surprise, not miracle.

-- Y/N, on tiktok: FOR ALL YOU NASTY ASSES IN MY DMS- *shows the team* THIS IS MY TEAM. STOP SENDING MY DICK PICS OR I WILL SEND THEM AFTER Y'ALL. Ghost: You've been getting dick pics? Soap: Who the hell's been harassing you online?! Y/N: SEE?? THEY'LL WHOOP YA ASS, SO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!

-- Y/N, on tiktok again: Alright, backfired on me. For all of y'all who are now trying to be nasty by THIRSTING for my teammates, uh, no. Stop askin' for my Captain's marital status, I'm not gonna tell you. No you may not get my teammate's dicks, I will not be giving you their social media, stOP ASKING I KNOW THEY'RE HOT BUT NO-

-- (I've fallen down the rabbit hole of Karen compilations, so, that's why I thought of this)

Y/N: Goodbye sir! Male Karen: Fuck you bitch! Go suck off your captain you fuckin' whore!! Y/N: Sure, I'll do that, goodbye! Male Karen: Suck my dick, whore! Y/N: Can't! It's too full of military dick, you'll need to make an appointment, GOODBYE!! Soap: *wheeze* Gaz: Jesus. Christ. Ghost: I told you all America is shit.

(Bonus Note cause I can't put in anywhere else; on the topic of Venom + C.o.D. I know we have Soap in place of Eddie & Ghost in place of Venom, but hear me out. Y/N! being Ghost's host and Johnny being a third part. P o l y ! A u !)

[daveth-isnt-dead]

Tentatively

Summary:

You don’t want to tell him the truth, that most of your friends have grown up and don’t talk to you anymore, that while you love your family it’s too difficult to find time to travel and see them, that you are incredibly lonely.

Contains: Fem Reader, Death Mention (but only as much as you would expect given the source material) Word Count: 2,235 Read on AO3

You still feel strange a few hours after leaving the chatroom. Grim, who despite all evidence to the contrary, is actually the Grim Reaper, left pretty abruptly after telling you there is something incredibly wrong with your soul and you are unsure if you should be concerned or offended about the whole thing. 

After a disappointing meal of microwaved leftovers and an attempt at enjoying a relaxing bath despite your apartment’s abysmal water temperature, you find yourself laying back on your bed and staring up at the all too uninteresting ceiling as you wait for your hair to dry. The window above your desk is open and the cool breeze is pleasant, but you’re already getting the sense that you will have trouble getting to sleep tonight, despite Grim’s uncharacteristic insistence that you get some rest after today. 

There’s something so lonely about these summer nights, lonely enough that you find yourself scrolling through your contacts list, looking for someone ( anyone ) to talk to. Calling your parents this late will only make them worry, and all of your friends from uni have much better sleep schedules than you do and will already be out cold. You toss your phone onto the vacant pillow beside you and let out a sigh, that really only leaves one option. 

Hoisting yourself from the bed, you walk over to the desk and grab your laptop. Quickly tapping open the chatroom app and turning off your camera before hitting the call button. You push your lamp and pot-plant out of the way to leave room for the laptop on your bedside table and lay back down as you wait for an answer. 

You spend the first seven rings worrying that he won't pick up, by the eighth you are proven wrong.

“I thought I already told you to go to sleep.” He says in lieu of a greeting. 

All the lethargic energy in the room suddenly dissipates, and your mouth tugs up in a smile, “Hello to you too”

“I was being serious.”

“Yeah, but you aren’t my boss.” He huffs, “I am your reaper.” “Oh?” You reply, smirking to yourself, “ My reaper, are you? Just mine?” “No! I- I’m just assigned to you. That does not mean-”

You laugh, “Sorry, sorry. I’m just teasing, thank you for picking up, I mean it.” It’s quiet, but you swear that you hear a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the call, “I- well, I just wanted to be certain that you were not suffering any side effects from the soul connection.” He clears his throat, “You…aren’t…are you?”

“I’m having trouble sleeping, but I don’t think I can blame that on you. I suppose I feel a little jittery? But that makes sense given my emotional state right now.” “What is it?” “What’s what?” “Your uh- your emotional state.”

“Oh.” You say, feeling your heart beating a rapid tattoo behind your ribs, “Well, I dunno. I’m a little overwhelmed, I suppose. I really just thought you were an edgy cosplayer, and I mean, you still are but you are also literally the Grim Reaper, so I’m still just dealing with that I guess.”

“That is perfectly normal, then. Though you should have been feeling frightened the moment I contacted you, your reaction was quite delayed.” “Hey! I never said ‘frightened’ I said overwhelmed! That’s a completely different emotion.”

He chuckles, “Unable to stop thinking about me, then?” “That also isn't what I said.” Though, he isn’t entirely wrong, “I’m just worried about how I'm going to focus at work tomorrow when I’ll be spending the whole day looking over my shoulder to make sure some white-haired twink isn't about to commit murder upon me.” 

“White-haired what? ” “Twinnnnk~” You reply, “Look it up, I’m sure that will keep you busy for a few hours.” “I hardly need to be kept busy , I have important work to do.” “Like stealing my soul.” “Yours and others, I do not just follow you around all day.” He says dryly, “You are not that important. Also, I will not be murdering you. I am pushing you in the correct direction, one you have stubbornly been avoiding for far too long.” You hum quietly to yourself, reaching out to pat your cat where he sits next to you on the bed, “How was I meant to die anyway? Just out of curiosity, since you seem to know everything about it.” He doesn't answer for some time, and the deafening silence makes you regret even posing the question. 

“Do you really want to know?” He finally asks, “Most people never find out, because unlike you they die when they are supposed to.” “Hit me with it, Grimmy.” He groans, “Do not call me that.” then you hear him sigh, deeply, contemplatively, “You were supposed to die of food poisoning.” “Oh.” You reply, feeling your heart sink a little, “Damn, that sucks. That’s so…boring”

“Death often is.” “I guess, well, I guess I was hoping that the way I die might be interesting at least. What food would have poisoned me anyway?” “Ham sandwich.” “Yikes. Was the ham poisoned or something?” “No, just expired. On a related note, you do need to clean out your fridge more often.” He’s right. Your fridge is pretty nasty, and it kind of always has been. It’s a very low priority on your list of tasks.

“Grim?”

“Yes?”

You swallow, unsure how to phrase the real question hiding in the recesses of your mind, “could you…I dunno, kill me gently, if it comes to it? I mean, I just-“ you roll over onto your side, making eye contact with the black screen of your laptop, “If I have to die, I don’t want it to hurt.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then he replies, “I don’t want it to hurt you either.”

“That’s…sweet, Thank you.” “Lacking desire to see you suffer does not make me sweet , it makes me considerate .” He sighs irritably, “More importantly, does this mean you’re finally willing to hand over your soul?” You laugh, “ No! I just- I dunno, I had a weird day and I'm feeling kinda existential now.” You look through your window, staring up at the night sky, “Do you feel that way sometimes, or is it just a human thing?”

“I do not see how that’s any of your business.” “C’mon, Grim. Just play along for once, get silly with it.” You hear him huff on the other end of the line, you can picture the exact pouty face he must be making right now, “I have been a reaper as long as I can remember, and will continue to be one for the rest of my life, there is little for me to be existential about.”

“Hm.” 

“What?” He says brusquely, “What are you ‘hm-ing’ about?”

“The thought of having one job for the rest of my life is exactly the sort of thing that makes me existential, that’s all.” “Well you don’t have to work at the same job for the rest of your life, so what exactly are you complaining about?” “I mean, the rest of my life might only be a few more days.” You say, “Provided you win our bet of course, which you will not be doing.” “Do not doubt me, Sunshine. You may come to regret it.” You giggle, “Doubtful.” There’s a rustling sound on the other end of the call, you can only assume that he is also lying in bed right now, ��I am quite literally death, and I even gave you concrete proof of this fact this evening.” his voice turns quiet, dare you think it, wistful, “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” You shrug, even though he can’t see you, “You aren’t very scary.”

“I am going to take your soul .” “You are going to try and take my soul.” a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And even if you do, you’ve already promised to do it gently .” “I promised not to hurt you, I never said anything about being gentle .” 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see the difference between those two statements.” He groans, and when he speaks again his voice is muffled. You suspect he has his face buried in a pillow, “You are infuriating. When I leave the chatroom for the evening I assume that I am done with you, I was not prepared for you to insist on continuing our conversation well into the night.”

“What, are you tired?” All goes quiet for a moment, and then, “No. Are you?” “Nope.” “Hmph, you should be at this hour, especially after a day of work.”

“I- well, I dunno…”

You don’t want to tell him the truth, that most of your friends have grown up and don’t talk to you anymore, that while you love your family it’s too difficult to find time to travel and see them, that you are incredibly lonely. You are tired, you have to be up at 5:00 to get ready for work tomorrow morning, but the idea of saying goodbye, of hanging up, makes something ache deep inside you. Something inside the very soul he wants to steal. 

“You don’t know, what?”

“Huh?” Grim huffs again, “You said, ‘i dunno’ and then stopped talking, which is very out of character for you, by the way.” “Oh? Did you miss me? Were even those brief seconds of silence enough to make you realize how much you love hearing my voice?” “I will hang up.” 

“Don’t.” You say before you have time to think better of it, “Please.”

“I-“ he clears his throat, “Only if you can act normally for the rest of our conversation.”

“I’m plenty normal, you’re the weird one.”

“What’s weird, how am I weird?”

You roll onto your back, staring up at the celing, “Oh i dunno, just the whole ‘I am death incarnate! I have come for your soul! I will connect my soul to yours! ’ schtik” 

“You know fully well that it is not a…what did you call it? A schtik?” He pronounces the word completely wrong, “Whatever that is, it is not one of those. I am death incarnate, I am here for you soul, and you were literally an active part in the soul connection.”

“Oh, about that soul connection thing, by the way.” He scoffs, “Your ability to change the subject at a whim is still strong as ever i see.” 

“I know, I’m very talented- anyway! I wanted to ask if you can do anything cool now that we have a soul link or whatever.” “I have already told you, I cannot control your body. As entertaining as it would be to embarrass you publicly, even my exceptional abilities could not do that” 

“Oh kay , how about something easier, then?” You feel the warmth of your cat as he snuggles up against your side and instinctively reach out to pat him, “Read my mind, go on!” “I cannot do that.” “C’mon, Grimmy, give it a go!” You squeeze your eyes shut, “I’m thinking about something real hard right now.” He sighs, “Are you thinking about your cat?” “ Whaaaat? How did you know?!”

“I didn’t know , i guessed. I can’t read your mind, but i am still attuned with your soul.” His voice has turned uncharacteristically soft, he’s almost whispering, “It… flutters …when you are happy, and your cat makes you happy. So I guessed…”

“So you’re a soul reader, then?” You ask, trying to ignore the fact that your stomach also feels oddly fluttery right now.

“That is not a thing. You’re just making things up now.”

“Try again.” You say, your mind unwittingly flooded with thoughts of soft white hair and judgemental red eyes. Of hands you wish were bare, of sharp toothed smiles. Your heart slows to a languid rhythm, and something you aren’t ready to put a name to curls warmly in your belly. You close your eyes, softly this time, and breathe, “What am i thinking about now?”

He goes silent for a long time, you can hear the slow, even draw of his breath. You can picture him laying back on his bed, hair splayed over the pillow, brow creased in concentration and you wonder if he is thinking about you too. After what feels like an age, he finally answers, “your…plant?”

You burst into laughter and any tension in the air shatters, “My plant?! What about my soul was screaming plant just then?”

“Well, I don’t know! It was just happy again, happier, even and I assumed that you were smart enough not to just think about your cat again.” 

“Yeah, you got me.” You lie, “it was my cat again.”

“Hells, every single day you find a new way to get under my skin.” He sighs, and despite his earlier statement, his next words come out almost fondly , “You need sleep, mortal.”

“Yeah.” You reply, feeling that ache tug at you again, “I probably do.”

“I will talk to you tomorrow, that is, if you survive until then.”

That gets a laugh out of you, and you can’t tell if that was his intention or if he was being completely serious, “I look forward to it. Remember to murder me nicely, Grim.”

“As nicely as I can, I swear.” You can hear his smile, “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

[liminalpsych]

Initial Epic: the Musical - Wisdom Saga thoughts because that’s all I’ve been able to think about for the past 24 hours.

1. No one’s talking about the narrative juxtaposition of Calypso-Odysseus and suitors/Antinous-Penelope in the same saga, and I am turning it over in my head. The parallels and contrast of boundary pushing, one-sided relationally, trapped, etc? The different flavors of abuse and coercion and power dynamics? It wasn’t in such stark contrast in the original poem, the Telemachus perspective could have happened at any point in the last two sagas or the next one. Dunno how intentional it was, narratively, but it works.

2. I didn’t find Love In Paradise too triggering… but the reactions I’ve been seeing and the Calypso defenders and the minimization/dismissal/invalidation of the abusiveness (because even if you choose to interpret the lyrics as “Calypso didn’t commit SA or sexual coercion like she did in the original poem,” even if you interpret them as generously as possible — she’s still acting in harmful, emotionally abusive ways in the narrative)… that’s another thing entirely. Dealing with dysregulation and dissociation and way too many intrusive memories of my Calypso-like ex-girlfriend. Didn’t expect that. Not looking forward to the reactions to Not Sorry For Loving You in the next saga. Anyway I have essays worth of thoughts/feelings/frustrations on this topic that I need to just collate from venting about it on discord and make into a coherent post instead.

………okay so mostly it’s thoughts about the Love In Paradise song. more thoughts later maybe.

[abilouwrites]

WRINGING MY HANDS IN MY LAP

AND YOU DONT KNOW IF YOU’LL MAKE IT BACK

I don’t appreciate uncertainty, growing up confident and sure of how my life was going to turn out. That I would become a doctor; or a nurse maybe.

I didn’t expect to fall into a committed relationship with someone I was so sure I wanted to marry at twenty four. I never wanted to date a hero; it’s common within hospitals. Finding a fling with a sexy injured hero. I didn’t except it to be for me.

Yet it was. I fell in love with him, “so you’re leaving?” I ask as he walks out of the shower. Just after dropping the bomb he would be leaving for a secret mission early the next week.

“No” he states, pouring himself a glass of wine and joining me at the stove, “I’m just going on a mission. I dunno when I’ll come back” he restates, but there’s a change. He changed his words.

“No. You said ‘I don’t know if I’ll come back’ Katsuki what does that mean? Are you going to die?” I ask, clicking the stove off and turning to face him, “let me rephrase it” I clarify, “do you think you’re going to die?”

He looks uncertain, damp hair brushes through his eyelashes, it makes me scared. The uncertainty on his face, the way his lips are turned down and sucked against his cheek, “I don’t know” he admits, “I wasn’t told much about it. Just that it was dangerous. But all of my away missions usually are”

I feel like throwing up, “they couldn’t have picked anyone else? Anyone?” I ask, “I don’t like this” I shake my head and take a sip out of my glass. I feel sick to my stomach, like whatever happens it’s not going to end well.

“I’m a hero, it comes with the job. If you can’t deal with that, maybe we shouldn’t” I know where this is going to end. I know he’s going to say we shouldn’t be together.

“No. I’ll.. I’ll be ok” I murmur, I find myself shutting down. Sitting and observing instead of listening. I’m not mad. Scared maybe, “what happens if you don’t come back?” I ask. My knees brought to my chest as I sit in my dining room, watching him pass me the plate of chicken

“I’ll come back” he says, “I promise”

“No. That doesn’t work for me” I tell him, picking at my dinner, “I need to know what happens. If you don’t come home. We’re not married” I explain, “you have no legal ties to me”

“You’re in my will. Im not stupid” he retorts, it’s like the thought never crossed my mind. But he’d never told me.

“But you never told me this, how am I supposed to know when you never told me ‘hey y/n. I put you in my will, hope that’s ok!’” I groan sitting up from the chair, “it’s like when you put me as your emergency contact without talking to me first”

It’s so frustrating when he does this, does something and doesn’t talk to me about his choice. Then gets upset when I become frustrated, it’s a never ending cycle of this, “I’m going to bed. I have to work tomorrow” I mumble grabbing my phone from the counter and walking to the only bedroom in my little apartment.

I feel when the bed dips, his arms instinctively move under and over me. Like a prolonged hug, I don’t want to move. I feel him plaster soft kisses against the nape of my neck, “I love you” I hear him whisper, “and I’m going to come back, and then I’m going to marry you” I listen, allowing the words to soothe me. Comfort me. Allowing myself to imagine me. In a white dress, with a ring on my finger. I want to picture it.

God I wanted it so bad.

It’s been a year, and each night it’s the same dream. Kirishima with a sorrowed look on his face as I walk out of the patients room to where I’ve been called. I knew it when I saw his face, closed eyes and a lip quivering underneath his teeth. My heart sinking into my stomach, “tell me it’s not what it is” I begged, holding onto his wrists as he guides me into an ‘on-call’ room. Sitting me in the chair and gently gripping into the plush of my thighs. Repeated apologies of how he couldn’t have saved him.

Except each time I keep waking up, just as he bows his head at my knees and tells me the love of my life. The only person I ever thought I could marry. Died. And somehow— he keeps thinking it’s his fault. Even if it wasn’t— and as much as I want to blame him. I can’t.

I’m heaving, wailing and crying once again. Four in the morning; crudely awoken from my sleep by the haunting memories. I shake as I pull myself out of bed. Trembling down the hall.

I hate this feeling, so empty even though I feel like I should’ve gotten over it. I should’ve grieved all I had to grieve. But I can’t.

I was stiff and uncomfortable at his funeral, picking at my skin and sitting in the back-row. His mother pleaded I sit with her. I wanted to, but I was just a girlfriend- a girlfriend he wanted to marry.

I knew he wouldn’t come home, deep in my heart I knew he wouldn’t return to my little apartment, no matter how badly I wanted him too.

[italiansteebie]

something you'd never expect about steve harrington is that he loves halloween.

i mean, he really gets into it.

he dresses up, decorates the house, hands out candy and even goes trick or treating with the kids as an excuse. "i'm keeping an eye on you guys!"

"you didn't have to dress up though,"

"yes i did, dustin. you don't know everything."

even after the upside down bullshit, he still loves it, and maybe he kept his scoops uniform with blood and barf stains so he could use it as a costume. and maybe that was kind of fucked, but he's coping with it.

now, steve's love for halloween is one of robins favorite things about him. especially since his house is equipped for an exceptional party, what with the size and the decorations steve is going to put up anyways? it's perfect.

so the halloween after scoops, they throw a masquerade of sorts. it's quite a rager, despite steve's expectations.

he decided to go as a masked cowboy.

he got the boots, the hat, and he wore a leather vest that ended up giving him a chill for the night since other than some chaps, it was all he was wearing on his body. he did the whole nine yards with a red bandana and some sunglasses.

"hey cowboy."

steve turned, taking in the sight in-front of him.

a guy, with long curly hair, somehow making a jason voorhees costume work.

he tipped his hat, always committed to the bit, "jason." he said simply, thanking the bandana gods for hiding his blush.

"never woulda thought king steve would throw a party like this."

"why not?"

"i dunno. it's cool though, guy seems to have changed."

"for the better?"

jason tilted his head, "yeah man. for the better." he said it as though the decision had been made, and locked in place.

so they sat.

and talked.

all night.

and the rest of the party seemed to fade away. that is until a drunk robin, dressed as micheal myers laid across his lap, "kick everyone out, im tired."

he checked his watch, it was 4 am, probably about time for them to go home. so he stood, gearing up to say his farewell to jason, maybe ask him for his number, but when he turned again, he was gone. only the smell of weed and cheap cologne remained. (and later, he'd find, a lone 36 sided die, that he'd end up asking dustin about).

it's silly to think that steve was falling in love with this guy after only just meeting him, but he'd grappled with his sexuality on a bathroom floor, appropriately, and was ready to dive back into the dating pool. or maybe the puddle, because halloween jason, seemed to be the one.

the only thing is, steve has no idea who the guy is.

that is at least until, none other than eddie munson had a broke bottle pressed against his neck. now he didn't figure it out in that moment, but when they were fleeing for their lives, eddie's hand found a way into steve's, and back at eddie's trailer, steve caught a glimpse of none other than the jason voorhees mask he'd been searching for ever since that party.

and maybe it was a sappy declaration of love, but steve was nothing if not a hopeless romantic.

"don't be heroes."

it was pleading.

steve tossed the dice eddie's way, watching fondly as he struggled to catch it.

"steve- wh?" he could see the moment it clicked in eddie's eyes. steve turned, ready to finish this mess, so he could talk to eddie, to jason, and figure out some shit.

"hey, steve?"

he turned, meeting eddie's eyes.

"make him pay, cowboy."

--

it was done.

they did it.

a few were in the hospital but, hey. they did it. eddie had been in a rough way for a little while, eventually pulling through but not before some physical therapy.

steve was there when he woke up.

had been ever since he'd explained to eddie's uncle wayne how they knew each other and what eddie meant to steve.

eddie cracked open his eyes.

"howdy, cowboy." it came out scratched, and rough.

"eddie," steve breathed, grasping his hand.

"i knew i liked those chaps."

steve rolled his eyes, smiling while tears rolled down his cheeks. "you saved my life." eddie said, reaching a hand to steve's cheek. steve shook his head, "how can i ever repay you?" eddie said, a glint in his eye.

steve laughed, "no thanks necessary," he said, tipping his imaginary hat, leaning into eddie's touch. "there must be someway," he said, southern drawl creeping into his voice. "how about a kiss?" steve asked, eyes flickering down to the metal heads lips.

wayne shook his head at the boys' antics. "will y'all just kiss already? im getting old waitin' for ya!"

eddie laughed at his uncle's testimony, before nodding, "c'mere, cowboy," he said, before closing the gap between him and steve.

"was it rootin' n tootin'?" eddie asked, a cheesy grin on his face as he pulled away. "sure was, partner."

"oh my god."

"hey robs,"

"steve, shut up. eddie's jason! jason from-" robin stumbled into the room. "from the party!" she all but squealed. steve laughed, nodding, "yeah, babe. we figured that one out ourselves."

[grenade-maid]

Honestly been really drawn to crossdressing romance manga the last few years. The fact there is such a focus on passing, anxiety over what the other partner might think or feel, the satisfaction of presenting in ways that feel good, the joy of being loved and desired in different forms, and the generally kind of weird funny fluid nature of gender and attraction all feel very relatable to me in ways that Yuri, and even Western lesbian and trans comics don't always reflect. "Is this gay or straight? Am I gay for this? Are *they* gay for this? Whatever is going on here it's not *not* gay and either way I'm committed" is a pretty unique mix of emotions familiar to my bi trans experience after all lol. Unfortunately most of them range from merely sucking to nuclear weapons grade hateful, so it's pretty rare to find a good one.

These pages really made me happy though. These two don't really get along as coworkers, but are immediately head over heels goofy eyed when encountering each other having genders in their off time (at this point neither recognizes the other or knows their gender). Cause like, I've had that experience SO many times where someone got under my skin, and then years later we run into each other after figuring some shit out and suddenly we're like irresistibly magnetized.

(Note: The term Lolita used here refers specifically to the style of fashion, and has no sexual connotations)

A lot of these manga are written in a very "That's Really a Guy!?!?!?!?!?" frame, but a surprising number even among the shitty ones don't seem to really ascribe much in the way of that like, meaning a whole lot. That's Really A Guy?? But she has effectively completely socially transitioned and is known, loved, and desired as a woman, I dunno, feels pretty trans to me, complete with the scrutiny, misgendering, and gags at her expense that I've known in my life. Being Really A Guy seems to lose very much meaning in that instance. Which is comforting to me as someone who works a public facing role and constantly gets gendered and perceived in weird ways that don't match who I am.

Are these intended to be read so charitably? I don't know, and I also don't really care. That hasn't stopped us from reading transness in Lain or Evangelion, or reading Dungeon Meshi as a lesbian love story has it?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for venting?

Emojis, so I can find it later 💯⁉️💥 (unrelated, I just use them a lot)

So I(16) have been struggling with depression since I was, like, 10. It's been worse and better over the years, but something that really triggers it is extreme weather. Dunno why, but if its hot as fuck outside I *will* be considering suicide.

I regularly go to sleepaway camp every year. I usually do two weeks and usually go during the summer rainy season. Well, a year or two back (can't remember, got that depression and ADHD memory loss) I went later on in the summer than I usually do, and it was really fucking hot out. The whole time.

I could deal with it for a couple of days, especially because I was having a bit of romantic tension with J(16) (not real name, not even real initial). "I can survive any situation as long as I have a crush on someone there", or whatever that post said. He was really sweet and also suffered from depression. We talked about our struggles together, and he seemed to be responsive and chill about it. He did have trauma from his past with loved ones committing suicide, but he seemed to have worked through his grief and didn't have negative reactions when it was mentioned.

Here's where I might be the asshole. Eventually, the heat got to be too much for me, not to get too graphic but I was making plans, so I sent my parents a letter asking to pick me up. I waited a couple days for them to recieve it, and they did and called and said they would pick me up in the morning.

I delivered the news to everyone by being quite vague about what I had to go home for. When pressed, I said my parents didn't give any details and I was a little worried. That explained my acting weird away to everyone, but not J. He didn't believe me for one minute, and was determined to get to the bottom of it.

He took me outside, asked me what was wrong, and told me it was ok to tell him. It took a little convincing, but I eventually broke down and told him I was having suicidal ideation and that I needed to get the fuck out of dodge or I might do something drastic. I specified that I would be completely fine once I got out of the oppressive heat and humidity, just that I had to go home ASAP. I did ask him not to tell anyone because I didn't want them to worry, which I realize now was unkind. I should have at least told a counselor so that he wasn't alone.

Anyway, he immediately started having full-fledged PTSD flashbacks. I couldn't tell at first, but then I realized what was going on and tried to comfort him. It didn't work. The counselor that came check on us just kicked me out. I went back inside feeling guilty, but I was hoping that I reassured him enough that he would be ok.

He acted normal for the rest of the time I was there (we even kissed! That was my first kiss) and made me promise to text him when I got home. Naturally, I did, reassuring him and telling him I was feeling infinitely better now that I had air conditioning and my phone. When he got home from camp a week later, he seemed a little freaked out but seemed to be mollified by my texts.

However, a couple days after that, he texted me out of nowhere, saying that I shouldn't have told him about what I was going home about because I gave him constant PTSD flashbacks for the rest of camp. He felt sick with worry the whole time. I felt like shit, obviously, so I responded with profuse apologies. He seemed to accept them but still feel a little resentful.

I still feel really fucking bad about it. I actually haven't told anyone I know IRL about. Well. Pretty much anything bothering me since. I know that's a bit of an overreaction, but I don't want to do that to anyone else.

So, am I the asshole?

(By the way, if you were there or know me, I would love it if you could just ignore this. Please and thank you. And also never make me know you read this cause that would be embarrassing as fuck lol)

[pivsketch]

am i going to attempt doing a study of this photo every three months lol

a hard expression to nail, though i keep trying cuz i like the photo. this time around i committed to doing the fullbody with no tracing, just eyeballing. dunno if it was a constructive use of my time… "keeping the knife sharp" i guess? 4h40m work time recorded in the file

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hi! This may be a dumb idea, so feel free to ignore it.

I am a firm believer that Steve would have a flinch response of some kind to the word bullshit because of Nancy and would love to see him work through it? And all I can think of is the card game? So if someone (Eddie) had noticed his reactions to the word and tried to help him through it by having the gang play the game that would be cool? Especially if Eddie noticed pre-relationship, helps Steve through it, Steve figured out what he was doing, and by the end they’re together?

Once again, if this idea is dumb you can ignore it, I won’t be offended!

:)

THANK YOU FOR THIS!!! I kind of changed it up a bit because I didn't really think Steve would be super comfortable with everyone being involved because none of those kids know how to just let shit go and he wouldn't want them to look at or treat Nancy any differently. I did have to google the game because it's been a solid 10 years since I've played and I was probably not sober when I did 😂 Hope you like what I did here and will send more requests if you haven't already! - Mickala ❤️

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

He’d gotten over it. He told himself he was over it. He convinced himself he was over it.

But he heard Nancy tell Mike it was bullshit that she always had to cover for him with their parents when he stayed out past curfew, and it was like she was spitting it in his face instead.

He visibly recoiled, the air in his lungs suddenly rushing out of his nose.

Nobody noticed, but it took him a minute to catch his breath, to focus back on the fact that Nancy wasn’t talking to him, wasn’t calling him bullshit.

—--

But then bullshit became Dustin’s favorite word and Steve didn’t know what to do about it.

He jokingly started saying “language” every time he said it, but Dustin was a stubborn kid, and Steve was too in his head to actually commit to getting him to stop.

He threw it around like it was nothing, and to him, it was nothing. He hadn’t had someone he loved call him bullshit.

He started to find reasons to avoid giving him rides. He would pick up extra shifts, pretend he fell asleep early, say he had a migraine. It all worked.

But he didn’t notice how Eddie started to get suspicious that he was now Dustin’s ride to everything, that Dustin was starting to worry that he’d done something to upset Steve, that Steve was ignoring everyone.

Eddie knew he had to talk to Steve alone, maybe get high with him so his defenses were down a bit, and find out what the hell was going on.

But Steve was good at this, avoiding people.

He was never completely alone at work, always a coworker or customer keeping him too busy to talk. He never answered his house phone anymore, and even though they all knew he was listening for the radio, he ignored that too. Eddie tried just showing up at his house at random times when he knew he wasn’t working, but he either wasn’t home or was doing a great job of pretending to be asleep.

Until he got lucky and caught him as he was walking out the door one morning, probably not expecting anyone to be awake this early and standing in his driveway.

Steve startled, but pasted on that fake smile that Eddie hated.

“Hey, Eds. Didn’t know you were stopping by. Everything okay?”

“I dunno, Stevie. Is everything good?”

Steve gulped.

“Everything’s fine.”

“That’s good. I just figured I’d check since you practically went invisible on us for the last three weeks. Dustin’s considered sending Hopper for a wellness check.”

“Oh. I’m fine. Just busy, ya know?”

Eddie searched his face, already knowing he was lying.

“That’s bullshit, Steve.”

He watched as Steve curled into himself, probably not even realizing he was doing it, and confirming at least some of Eddie’s suspicions.

“What’s going on with you?”

Eddie wasn’t leaving until he had answers and he certainly wasn’t about to let Steve hide away.

The kids missed him, Robin missed him, Eddie missed him.

Steve looked like he was fighting back tears when he looked back up at Eddie.

“I’m sorry I’m bullshit, it’s all bullshit, and I can’t make it better, make me better.”

“What? Stevie, you’re not making any sense.”

“I keep messing everything up. Even when I try to be better, to be good, it doesn’t fucking matter because I’m still bullshit..”

And now he was crying.

Shit. What the hell?

Eddie didn’t waste any time, stepping into Steve’s space and wrapping his arms around him, pulling him into his chest and making sure he had a safe place to cry.

He got the idea that Steve had probably never had a safe place to cry before.

He slowly walked them back into the house, frowning further when he realized the front door wasn’t even locked. Was Steve actually leaving his house unlocked? After everything they’d been through, he guessed maybe a regular old robber was the least of his worries, but still.

He managed to get to the couch in the living room, slowly sitting down and pulling Steve down next to him.

Steve wasn’t crying anymore, or at least he was being much quieter, his tears soaking the shoulder of Eddie’s shirt so much it was hard to tell if more was being added.

“Stevie? You’re not bullshit.” He felt Steve flinch against him, but continued. “I’m not sure who told you that you were, but you can’t let that control you so much. You’re the best guy I’ve ever met besides Wayne and I’m still thinking he’s just the Patron Saint of Patience.”

Steve let out a small snort of laughter and Eddie considered that a win.

But his brain was still going 90 miles a minute, thoughts running laps in his head as he thought about something Robin told him a few months ago.

She didn’t tell him any details, would never betray Steve’s trust like that, but she’d mentioned that any chance of Steve getting back with Nancy had been left in the bathroom of Tina’s party.

Eddie, despite what most people thought, was pretty intelligent. He could usually connect dots even when the lines between were spiraling to other dots as a distraction.

So this particular line between what Robin said, and what Steve was saying now about how he was bullshit, suddenly connected in his mind.

“Did Nancy say that to you?”

Steve pulled away, face suddenly blank.

“It wouldn’t matter who said it if they’re right.”

“I can’t believe I thought you were still in love with her this whole time.”

“What? No. I haven’t been in love with her in years.”

“Why are you even still friends? She really said that to you?”

“We’ve moved on. We were both going through a lot and she didn’t mean it.”

“I hate to say it, Stevie, but it doesn’t seem like you’ve moved on at all.”

“What do you mean?”

Eddie watched as Steve tried to work it out on his own. Eddie loved the face he made when he was confused. He loved every face Steve made.

Snap out of it, Munson.

“Well, if hearing it in passing upsets you so much that you avoid your entire family for weeks, you aren’t over it.”

He let that sink in, watching as Steve’s face went through all the stages of grief in less than a minute.

“I’m not avoiding everyone.”

“Steve, you are. And I’m sure everyone will understand if you just explain.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Okay, then you can just say you had a busy few weeks and now you’re not.”

“Dustin says it a lot.”

“Says what?”

Eddie knew, but he needed Steve to say it. He needed him to stop associating that word with himself.

“Why are you gonna make me say it?”

“Because you need to stop thinking it’s an adjective that describes you. You’re the farthest thing from bullshit.”

Steve flinched again, but recovered quickly.

How long had this been happening that no one noticed? How long had Eddie not noticed?

“Alright! I have an idea.” Eddie got up and went to the closet in the hall that held all the stuff for when the kids came over. Movies, tapes and records, extra blankets and pillows, changes of clothes, books, school supplies, cards. Eddie grabbed the closest deck of cards and walked back to the couch. “We’re gonna call Robin and we’re gonna play a game.”

“What game?”

“Bullshit.”

Another flinch.

God, Eddie felt so stupid for not noticing this sooner, not putting the pieces together earlier.

“How will that help?”

“Because you’re going to hear the word so much, and we’re going to have so much fun, that you won’t be able to think negatively about it anymore.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

That was a possibility. It could end up making things worse, causing more stress for Steve. But if there was anything he learned from his months of therapy, it was that exposure to something negative enough would leave you feeling indifferent to it eventually.

“If it doesn’t work, you can push me into the pool with all my clothes on in the middle of winter. Deal?”

“Fine.”

They shook on it, Eddie letting his hand linger for a bit too long in Steve’s, only letting go when Steve raised his brows at him.

Eddie called Robin, who was not thrilled about having to get out of bed on a Saturday before ten, but did it anyway when Eddie explained what it was for.

She’d finally gotten her license two months ago and her mom let her use her car on weekends, so she promised to leave as soon as she was dressed.

Eddie immediately called Dustin, just to let him know Hellfire was off for the day and to tell everyone. Dustin threw a fit, said it was bullshit, said he can’t just cancel with no intention of rescheduling, and Eddie hung up on him.

He’d have a conversation with him later.

Steve had gone upstairs to change, said he wanted to be comfortable for this and his jeans and polo weren’t really lounging around clothes.

So Eddie waited for Robin, and he waited for Steve to come back downstairs, and he thought about how much he hated Nancy Wheeler in that moment.

He’d gotten close to her when he was trying to graduate. She helped him study so he could pass the finals he needed to, even without being able to be in class because of being stuck in the hospital for so long. He helped her pack for college, offering up his van as a thank you for all she’d done to help him. He called to talk with her weekly.

All this time, she was at least some of the reason that Steve had negative feelings about himself.

Sure, Eddie could guess that his parents had a lot to do with it too, but this was somehow worse.

He’d trusted Nancy.

Steve came down just as Robin was walking in the front door, bag of chips in hand.

“It’s nine in the morning. I can cook breakfast,” Steve said to her.

“Nah, chips are a necessary staple for card games no matter the time.”

No one argued with her as they sat around the kitchen table.

Eddie dealt the cards out, explaining the rules as he went, though they all had played before. He added a rule though.

“Every time someone calls bullshit on Steve, we have to say one thing that we like about him. Good with you, Robbie?”

Robin smirked. “Perfect.”

Steve didn’t argue, probably because he knew he wouldn’t win against them, so they got started.

The first round went pretty smoothly. Steve ended up never having to lie, and nobody called bullshit on him. He barely flinched when Robin called it on Eddie the first two times, and didn’t at all the third time.

But the second round started and Steve was not having any luck. He got away with his first lie, but he knew Robin could tell he got away with it and she wouldn’t be going easy on him next time.

Next time happened to be his next turn.

He placed down the card that should’ve been an 8, but was actually a Jack. He confidently said 8. Or thought he did.

“BULLSHIT!”

He felt his hands shaking, but he did his best to ignore it as he turned the card over to show she was right.

It was bullshit.

“I love that you always try to show interest in what we all like even if you don’t really like it. Like when El started crocheting and nobody would help her understand the instructions, but you sat with her for hours while she worked it out and helped read the instructions to her when she had her hands busy.”

Eddie was smiling and nodding along like he agreed.

“That’s just what friends do.”

“Maybe. But none of her other friends were doing it, were they?”

Yeah, okay. Steve nodded and they moved on.

But his luck was long gone now, and his next card had to be a lie too.

“Bullshit.” This time Eddie called it.

Steve was doing his best not to cry, but something about hearing that pointed at him from Eddie made him feel worse.

“I love that you always hug the kids. Saying hello, saying goodbye, when you’re proud of them. You aren’t afraid to show them affection.”

Eddie was giving him a fond smile, but Steve couldn’t do anything except nod.

He couldn’t say that Eddie’s plan was really working, but maybe he needed to give it more time.

He made it through the rest of that round fine, not having to lie again, and only having to call bullshit on Robin once.

But their next round seemed to turn into them calling it on him every turn, regardless of if they thought he was lying or not.

“The way you make us all feel important.”

“Your laugh is contagious and it’s fun to see how easily it spreads through the group when you get started.”

“You always have dinner for us when we come over, and it’s always so good. Like you’ve spent the whole day making sure it’s perfect and you want us to enjoy it.”

“You never let us face anything alone. We can always rely on you to be there in whatever way we need the second we need you. No questions asked.”

Steve still flinched every time they called bullshit, but it was getting easier to move on from it and hear their compliments.

Finally, on Steve’s last turn, Eddie called it on him.

He watched as Eddie glanced over at Robin, then back at Steve, blush coloring his cheeks.

“I love that you hold my hand when we’re smoking outside because you know it helps me stay grounded and not get lost in my thoughts too much. I love that if I fall asleep on the couch, you cover me with a blanket and lay down next to me so I don’t wake up alone. I love that you always pack an extra cookie in your lunchbox just in case I visit you at work. I love that you put your entire reputation on the line to make sure I got the best care a person can have in the hospital, and even after with the physical therapy and regular brain therapy. I love that you keep finding ways to show me that sometimes popular and mainstream things are okay.” Eddie gave him a more confident smile. “I love everything about you.”

“That was more than one,” Steve said breathlessly.

“Yeah, hard to pick just one thing when I love you this much.”

“What?”

Steve was so confused. Eddie had been nice saying the things he did before, but this? There was no way he meant it.

Not the way Steve was hoping he did.

“Can you two just kiss before I puke?” Robin complained.

Eddie looked at him, a surprisingly calm smile on his face.

“Only if Stevie wants me to.”

“Mhm. Yes. Please do that,” Steve rushed out, not sure what the hell was happening, but not wanting to wait for it to change.

Eddie was up from his seat and kneeling in front of Steve in seconds, one hand on his knee and one on his cheek.

Steve wasn’t breathing. He was barely even able to focus on Eddie on his knees in front of him.

Eddie leaned in slowly, giving Steve a chance to back away if he wanted to.

But he didn’t want to.

He wanted to feel Eddie’s lips on his more than anything.

And he did.

They were surprisingly soft, but firm and demanding, making sure Steve followed him instead of the other way around.

He could distantly hear Robin eating chips, but didn’t bother to tune in to whatever she was complaining about, just enjoying the sensation of having Eddie’s lips and hands on him.

It did end though.

“You know what’s bullshit?” Steve asked.

Eddie’s eyes widened in question.

“The fact that we have to stop kissing.”

Eddie let out a loud laugh and leaned in to kiss him again.

“You know what’s bullshit to me?”

“Hm?”

“That you ever thought for one second that you weren’t amazing.”

Steve blushed, but looked at the way Eddie was looking at him.

Like he loved him. For real. No bullshit.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

The Heartsteel splash art is very bad, and here's why

I am not a fan of the collective Heartsteel splash art, and in fact, I think it's kinda s***ty. Not on a technical level, mind you, it is every bit as well rendered and nicely drawn as most other Riot art is, but as a way to introduce these characters? As a pitch to get us excited about them? This is genuinely kind of f***ing terrible. First of all, it's copying the original K/DA splash arts, which also had each band member copy pasted in different positions in each splash, with a different character in the spotlight. And that's not a great place to start from, because it feels like a total lack of confidence in the product, like some suit-wearing executive saying "just copy whatever worked the first time!" The splash art should be an opportunity to introduce what's new and unique about the band, and copying K/DA like this completely fumbles that opportunity and invites really unflattering comparisons. Second, the copy pasting is a problem. For two reasons: First, it looks cheap. It just does. There is no way to put out six splash arts with the exact same pixels copy-pasted into different positions that doesn't, on an instinctual level, feel cheap. All that says is "we didn't want to pay for more than one splash art." It looks like corner cutting. Second, it forces every character in the art to be completely separate from one another. A big part of the band's charm in their excellent music video is the interaction and camaraderie between the boys as they get into frat boy shenanigans shooting their music video, but since every character has to be able to be copy-pasted and moved independently in the splash, they can't interact or pose together in any way, making them seem completely disconnected from one another. One of the simplest ways to add a bunch of character and charm to these splash arts would be to have one character up front doing their cool pose, and then the other five boys dicking around in the background, armwrestling or hugging or, I dunno, giving each other piggyback rides. Instead, we just get sterile clip-art of each of them that don't even seem to be aware that the other guys are there. And when they are up front, the poses they do are also… mostly kinda lame? Sett is supposed to be this tough-guy with a heart of gold rapper with a big attitude and he's just, like, vaguely flexing, kinda. K'sante is supposed to be this imposing, powerful vocalist and he's just… standing there. Yone looks bored, Aphelios looks like an emo kid who's being forced to be in a family photo by his mom, and Kayn, who's supposed to be this rowdy chaotic bad boy, is just… doing a peace sign and sticking his tongue out? He gets completely overshadowed by himself: his Shadow Assassin and Rhaast forms in the background, which DO get to interact, which DO get to play with each other, and who are more charming than everything else these splash arts do. It genuinely baffles me that Riot couldn't be bothered to spend the money to get each of them unique splash arts, give these characters an opportunity to show off their costumes and their personality, or at least spend the money to have them drawn a little bit different in each of the six versions of this thing that they put out. This splash art, to me, feels like an active discouragement from investing in Heartsteel, because looking at this, looking at all the corners that are being cut, even Riot doesn't feel committed to them as a project. And like yeah, the music video is great and it's doing a lot of heavy lifting for them, but this splash art is an actual liability, it makes the whole project look worse.

[sytokun]

To anyone thinking or saying Dillon Goo is unworthy of acquiring RWBY, not because of anything realistic like finances or the size of his studio, but because he's "just an animator", or just a rando from the internet who cannot write or run RWBY:

Thanks for perpetuating the piece of shit mindset that every soul-sucking corporation and braindead consumer has: that animators have no value or are just there to push buttons and make pixels move for the real creatives.

Animators are artists and creators. They have to work with numerous departments to make things work: They have to know what the writer/director wants, and tell them if it's even possible to put to screen; they have to work with artists and character designers to tell if they can commit that art into moving parts. And for an animated show, they're kind of... I dunno, the entire backbone of its production.

Anyone stupid enough to claim that, by their logic, should claim that Miles and Kerry were "just writers" and don't have the right nor the intelligence to have any opinions on RWBY's animation, character designs or music. That's how I know you have zero fucking idea how any actual media is produced, because in your head, these positions all just exist as separate little boxes in your brain so it's simple enough for you to grasp.

It was "just an animator" who made RWBY in the first place, dumbass. A "rando" making animations on the internet that Rooster Teeth took a chance on, and now he's responsible for their best-selling IP. By comparison, Dillon is starting at a way better starting position than Monty was, with a successful YouTube channel, public support from multiple current and ex-CRWBY like J Grelle (Tyrian's VA), Kim Newman (former animator who animated Sun's gunchucks in V5) and Jessica Nigri (Cinder's VA), and multiple collaborations with big companies like Hoyoverse.

If anything, I'd expect an animator like Dillon to know and care enough about his staff to not give them near-irreparable spinal damage. Gee, I wonder why Newman would think he'd be a better employer to work with? Dillon would know how an animation project is run and budgeted. Him being an animator is a benefit, for god's sake.

Monty had character design sketches but needed help from professional artists to fully design them. He knew bits of the plot but needed help fleshing it out. Do you have enough brain cells to rub together to know that's precisely what Dillon can do, too? Fuckin', I dunno, hire people? For his studio??

I'd rather have an animator run RWBY because RWBY is an animated series and he would know precisely 1) what complements the medium best and 2) the precise limits of what can or cannot work within his budget. By your ass-backwards logic, I would rather get EC Myers to run RWBY's production over Dillon just because he's a writer and has been employed with RT longer.

That's another moronic argument: "He's only been employed by RT for 1 Volume". Man, I don't care if he's been there for zero Volumes, his work clearly shows a greater understanding of RWBY's aesthetic, mainstream appeal and style than its own showrunners have for the past 7 years. Or is seniority in a defunct company responsible for a steadily unprofitable IP suddenly a positive in this business deal?

I need you to be aware that RWBY as an IP is a joke outside of the bubble of its fandom, and I am telling you bluntly as a fan. Nobody takes it seriously and the ones that do only praise it for either its action choreography or its character designs, one of which is guaranteed with Dillon's studio. Diehard fans may love RWBY, warts and all, but all that love and support clearly wasn't enough to keep it alive, because its reputation was already cemented from its own mismanagement.

What you do is you get the right person for the job. And Dillon ticks a lot of boxes for it. If you think he's unable to acquire RWBY because he's not a big corpo or cannot meet Warner's asking price, that's 100% fair. If you think he's unable to create something on the scale of Volume 9, that's also 100% fair, but only if you're attached to the idea that you'd rather have Volume 10 or more of the same RWBY that was operating at a loss than any RWBY at all. Or if you'd rather see a season of 14 episodes 15 minutes long where 60-70% of it is made up of exposition, talking head scenes and increasingly overambitious world expanding, over shorter episodes with amazing RWBY action sequences with a story that never bites off more than it can chew.

But if you think Dillon is unqualified or worse, unworthy or undeserving (what a weirdo thing to say about a person, like owning RWBY is like inheriting the fucking throne of Gondor), all because he's "just an animator" or because he was smart enough to see RT for the meat-grinder hellhole it was and left to find success on his own, you're full of shit.

And if you disapprove of him because of his association with Shane, go find a restroom because your unsightly hateboner is showing. It's been almost ten years since the letter and you all have been holding this unfettered rage clenched between your buttcheeks longer than Shane's ever been with Rooster Teeth.

And for what? Pointing out Rooster Teeth is a fucked place to work at? Whoops, that was true and now it's six feet under for every scandal and worker abuse case they brought on themselves. For stealing and cannibalising their creators' IPs? Whoops, that's fucking true as well.

[penvisions]

garnish {chapter 10}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Time doesn't heal all wounds, but it does make the heart grow fonder. You find yourself missing Joel, too stubborn to reach out but Ellie is tired of seeing you both pinning as she navigates classes with you and her homelife with Joel now that she's back in the city.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: canon typical language, reader is a dumb dumb, reader is stubborn and heartbroken, mentions of reader's past, trauma, complicated family dynamics, stressful family dynamics, reader mourns her past relationship with father, verbal abuse (past tense), ellie being a scheming lil shit, language, sexual content, references to sexual relations (past tense), smoking, cigarettes, nicotine, drinking, consumption of alcohol, melancholia, manic depressive internal monologue

A/N: WE DID IT, we made it to the end!! i've never finished a fic before so this is all so exciting and a little terrifying, to be honest. i hope hope hope that i've done this lil au justice, with it growing a mind and story line of its own i never even planned for somewhere around chapter five. but we did it and i am proud of this lil one and maybe self-indulged a lot with my own birthday on the 17th! please tell me your thoughts!! a HUGE thank you to everyone that interacted with this. y'all made this possible by engaging with me and inspiring me to continue on even when my own brain was working against me ♡

i would love to take prompts for these two dummies to expand their universe and story in the future if anyone is interested? but i'm still getting used to having what little attention my fics are getting and i dunno if that would be something people are interested in ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Well, you certainly have the enthusiasm, Ellie.” A smile passed over the desk, fingers curled over her application and subsequent documentation. She had already graduated from her Boston school at the end of the previous spring semester, already set up to TA for a favorite professor of hers in the new year after a successful first year of doing so for another. But she had a pending application for a secondary degree. One here in Austin. 

Her life laid out in front of you once she had begun school, having applied and gotten into an art program in England right out of high school, something she had gushed about excitedly for a few moments when you asked her about it. Sure, you had talked about it in passing over shared meals both in the comforting environment of father’s home and while out getting coffee that had developed as a regular occurrence any time she was in town.

She was only four years younger than you, both her and Sarah. So driven and excited about this time in their lives. Sarah having relocated to work for a company that fought for her attention and hire after a phenomenal performance in communications and social work out in California. Both supported and shown love in a way that used to make anger and jealousy flair up in you, but that you now saw as a blessing for those who had that kind of nurturing environment to flourish in.

“I just…the perspective of art and language of art you’re trying to explore is really fuckin’ interesting. I know it doesn’t necessarily fall in line with my focus of studies, but-“

“Classes that interest you are just as important as those that help along your degree.”

“And dad said that I could go for it, said if it’s what I want, he’ll help me in any way he can.”

“Ellie, it would be a pleasure to have you take part in the program. There is a two semester commitment, I will remind you. And the application you submitted for Austin is still pending. But if you’re on board, I can sign my approval and walk it over to the admissions office when we’re done here.”

“I was…actually going to see if you could give me a ride back to the house…dad was in a hurry when my car wouldn’t start, and I left my keys with him so he could take a look at it.”

“Oh,” Your bottom lip was between your teeth, nervousness taking ahold of you. “Um, well-“

“I totally understand not wanting to, but I would feel better going with you than taking a bus or somethin’.”

“It’s okay, I can. But let’s walk this over to admissions and see what we can get in the way of aid first, yeah?”

“Fuck yeah, thank you so much!”

Your class sessions were at nine and lasted for two hours every Tuesday and Thursday. Not wanting to over log the students with a long block of class time on top of all the reading you did end up requiring of them in order to participate in the discussions. Only two days a week to allow for some leeway with the readings on top of the other responsibilities you were all to familiar with. You had explained to Ellie once her application had been switched over from pending to accepted.

You did miss the social aspect of working at the restaurant, the different foods and drinks you could try on a whim, the ability to get as much or as little human interaction as you wanted. But…you had made a choice to leave it behind. For good. Focusing finally on the things that you wanted to do for the rest of your life and a plethora of memories and stories of a time now past.

And Joel….you missed Joel.

But you were stubborn, sure that the man wanted to wash his hands of you after never getting a response.

Ellie was banging her head along to the tape that had been stuck in the trucks deck for years now. An old one from your childhood, one of the only things you father had intentionally gifted you. His love of music something you shared despite the rift and space created between you both. Your birthday up until you moved resulting in a gift card to the local record shop and a few tapes or CDs he wanted to share with you.

The younger girl belted out the lyrics, the loose strands of her hair whipping around from the cracked windows. You sang along with her, though not as loud, indulging her despite the ache that had settled in your bones. Having overthought yourself into a weird mood before class.

Suddenly the music faltered before the warbling completely as the ribbon inside began to loosen from the spool and hang out from the deck.

“Shit, that’s not good.” Ellie lamented as she reached forward to push the play button in to pause the music. She hit the ejection button and carefully pulled the tape from the mouth of the player. Her charcoal stained fingers spinning the spools one at a time to wind the ribbon back where it should be. A few moments later and she was reloading it and pushing play but the speakers only crackled before the tape ejected itself.

“Damn, it died.”

You didn’t say anything, thoughts a whirlwind as you panicked over loosing the last tangible connection you had with your estranged father. If she picked up on your tense silence, Ellie didn’t comment on it, leaving the tape hang half out the deck and moving to use the radio for the remainder of the ride.  

The house looked the same, Joel’s house, nestled to the side of a small cul-de-sac. The neighborhood calm and quiet in the early afternoon.

The graying curls you would recognize anywhere peaked from where Ellie’s care was being inspected by Joel laid out on a roller underneath the carriage. The hood was propped open and a giant tool storage cabinet had been wheeled closer to the opening of the garage. She bounded up to him, talking too fast for you to make anything out from the curb.

But Joel must’ve been able to decipher at least some of it because his gaze turned to you, oil staining one of his cheeks and his chest puffing up with a deep breath.

You felt your own breath catch low in your throat, a lump of air making it hard to breathe.

You drove off with your heart hammering in your chest.

It was now February, the dreaded holiday of the month approaching and your birthday right along with it. A shame, that such a day overshadowed any plans you had once made. The holiday taking precedent with prefix menus that brought in generous tips from happy couples and friends. But this year, this year you could do whatever you wanted.

Stay in, go out, order takeaway, drown yourself in fancy truffles. Whatever you wanted. But the weight in your heart didn’t have you all too keen for the day to arrive. Wondering what Joel had decided for his special menu, the drinks Millie worked with Mary on to pair alongside it. Maybe….maybe you could snag a seat at the bar and indulge?

You let the thoughts trail off and focused on grading the papers in front of you. Needing to get them done before your attention was pulled by a movie night with your friends.

You were up at exactly one minute before the clock stuck midnight. Bleary eyes watching the progression of the last sixty seconds before it was officially your birthday. Your phone buzzed with two texts immediately, all camps too much to handle in the early hour. Turning it to silent mode, you turned over and listened to the faint sounds of Sweet Pea playing with a bell down in the living room, hoping sleep would come back to you.

Waking up for a second time was a whirlwind, snooze allowing for you to sleep in until the absolute last minute before you had to get up. Shoving the tube of fabric that was a simple, off the shoulder dress over your head and fluffing up your hair with dry shampoo and you were out the door and headed to the campus.

“Alright, everyone, since I’m feelin’ a little generous today!” You clapped your hands once, noticing Ellie slink in at the last minute before you typically announced the beginning of class. “I’m gonna play a documentary for today- but!”

You interrupted the happy chuckles from the group of about thirty or so individuals you had interviewed and approved for your program. “I will need a paper on the methods used to help identify the remains and artifacts, with your general interpretation of the cultural basis hypothesized from them due next class!”

“Professor, c’mon. It’s my birthday, it’s your birthday: let’s all just take it easy.”

A chorus of, “Is it really your birthday?! Why didn’t you tell us!” rang out across the room. Certain individuals looking genuinely upset that they had missed out on a chance to let you know how much they appreciated you and liked you. It made the ache in your heart lighten just a bit, weird mood about the day waning slightly in their unabashed openness. Ellie was oddly silent, normally one to engage loudly and enthusiastically, her phone in her hand, fingers a blur as she fiddled with it.

“If you really want to do something for me, please, concentrate on the documentary!” You turned your back to the class, booting up the video on your laptop and tugging down the projector screen that was closed and stored up above the whiteboard. Turning the lights off, save for one in the back for them to take notes with, you pressed play and offered one last tidbit before the opening credits rolled, “But it doesn’t hurt to bring a gift card for any local coffee shops.”

“Need a ride today, Ellie?” You asked the lingering girl, slow to pack her bag up once the class had ended and hesitant to disembark from the campus altogether. Her car was in the shop, something needing repair that was beyond Joel’s skill set. As well as a new set of tires they were waiting on to get delivered before installing them. The ones she had for the more intense weather seasons of Boston worn down over the years and needed replacing. You didn’t mind totting the younger girl around, offering her help with proof reading papers and going over terms that didn’t easily stick. Talking about nothing in particular, though Joel had been diligently inside the house or away each time you dropped her off at home, no more awkward glances since your little display of speeding off the first time.

“Was gonna offer to get you a coffee,” She wouldn’t look directly at you, setting you on edge. You were about to ask her if everything was okay when she suddenly swung her bag on her shoulder and faced you. “I’m helping at the restaurant today, assumed you wouldn’t be cool with dropping me off there.”

An hour later, you were both loaded in the car with too expensive coffee drinks and pulling up to the front of the restaurant. You didn’t want to test if you had clearance to park in the employee lot, not sure what would hurt more. The denial of your code beeping or the approval of your code chirping and opening the gate. Sighing, you put shifted into park and let the engine idle.

Ellie seamed to be taking her sweet time once again. Moving slow to collect her things, having hesitantly showed you the project she was working on for one of her art courses. The bell above the front entrance sounded as the door opened and your head snapped up to see Joel walk through it. He paused, holding the door open beside him as he gave a small wave to Ellie and a somber nod to you.

Yous lips lifted at the corners as you noticed the stain of what had to be beets on his otherwise pristine apron, the white of it displaying the dark red in a disturbing way. His other hand was behind his back, shrouded in the shadows of the interior. He shared a hushed work with Ellie as she finally exited the truck and slinked past him with a last wave toward you.

But Joel didn’t follow her inside.

He stepped outside completely. The door closing behind him with a soft thump.

He was walking toward the truck, the passenger window down all the way as Ellie relished in the fresh air before knowing she wouldn’t leave until well past midnight after the rush of the holiday. 

Your fingers dug into the skin of your thighs, dress having ridden up during the drive to expose the tops of them. The sun warm on them as your nails made crescent shapes in their softness, making your anxiety for the world to see. You were otherwise frozen, unsure of what to say, how to talk. He looked so good. Longer hair slicked back, sliver glinting in the sunlight at his temples and in the scruff of his face. A vaguely heart shaped patch where it didn’t grow in too tempting of a sight as you recalled the way it felt to pepper kisses there.

Joel’s eyes flickered down to your mouth as your tongue swiped out to wet your suddenly dry bottom one, his hidden hand finally shifting from behind his back.

You couldn’t help the little gasp that pushed from your chest as a boquet of flowers was revealed to be in his grip.

The colors of it shades of orange, gold, and yellow. A mix of chrysanthemums, sunflowers, and peonies all wrapped in a delicate tissue paper with a white ribbon holding it all together. In the middle of the front of it, there was something shiny.

“Thought it was an emergency, when she started blowing up my phone a few hours ago.” He finally spoke, stepping off the curb and up to the passenger side of the car. He extended the bouquet to you, hiding his face from you for a moment. You were able to make out the shiny thing in the middle.

It was a copy of the tape that had died the first time you had given Ellie a ride home. The one you couldn’t find anywhere online. The one you had almost just ordered a CD or digital version of. The one you had almost reached out to your father to ask about. It was impossible to find, to replace. But it was there, in the middle of a beautiful arrangement of flowers.

A sob suddenly wracked through your body, hands coming up to cup your chin and hold any others in as fat tears fell hot from your eyes.

“Oh no, no – this – this was supposed t’make you smile, darlin’, not burst into tears.” Joel quickly lowered it, moving it out of view of the windows frame and pulling it back behind him. “I’m so sorry, I – I was just trying to do somethin’ nice for ya on your special day.”

You hiccupped as you reached out a hand in a weak wave, wiping at your cheeks with the other.

“No, Joel, it’s…it’s really sweet of you to do this. I just…I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course you do, you deserve everythin’, darlin’.” He reached through the open window and gently placed the bouquet down on the passenger seat. Molasses eyes catching yours as he offered you a weak smile and a nervous display of his fingers slinking his hair back. “Just wanted to do somethin’ for you today. I didn’t know last year and well, this year I do.”

“Joel…”

“Don’t need anything from you, really. They’re for you and that’s that.” He shuffled on his feet, watching as the breeze ruffled your loose hair and the fabric of your dress, sleeves flowing in the wind, the shine of your necklace in the sunshine.

“Thank you, really. I- I appreciate it.” You reached over to tug the cassette from its secure spot. Turning it over in your hands, taking in the scratches on the plastic of the case. The memory of looking over the massive collection he had displayed in one of the guest rooms, the small shelving unit he had made himself to store all the tapes he had previously kept in boxes in the garage. “Joel, this is from your collection, I can’t-“

“You can ‘n I wanted to. Ellie told me yours got ate and I don’t listen to the tapes much these days, just the vinyl.”

Voice gone and heart beating fast, you nodded. Feeling the urge to lean over and pull him into the truck to drive around for hours and listen to the reverent offering in your hands. But he had a holiday menu to get back to and you had a new recipe to try out. Each on their own and in different worlds.

He patted the window sill twice with a wide palm before he was turning away and disappearing back inside. You watched him go, heart urging you to call out to him while your mind told you it wouldn’t ever be that simple again.

Friends had come and gone, sharing dinner and gifts with you. Crappy movies and good liquor, laughs abundant and feelings so alive. The kind of day that reminded you that you were alive and well. The kind of day that made everything else worth it, small moments tiding you over until you could feel like full and bright again.

You stared at the flowers until the alcohol in your system blurred them, the colors running together and dimming as sleep pulled you under in the late hour. The tape playing through to the end before the machine finally shut off, blanketing you in your passed out state.

You would stare at them, as if they were pulling your attention every time you were in the kitchen or the living room. Choosing to hide away in your office or upstairs when you were home where they were out of site. When they began to wilt and dry up, you moved them to the back patio, not able to through them out but not able to reach out to the man who had gifted them to you.  

Finally removing them from the vase and cleaning it out. You bagged them up and left them on the counter to deal with after class. One that went by in the blink of an eye, almost like the day was rushing toward something. Rushing you toward something. The slow thrum of…something deep in your bones as you engaged in the discussion, leading it back to the focal point if it got too off tangent.

The routine of giving Ellie a ride one that hadn’t been prevalent lately since her car had been fixed and the end of the semester rolled around. But today it seemed to be one of the things that time was ushering you toward. Driving Ellie home with post class treat of milkshakes this time, the weather beginning to inch toward the dry heat that was prevalent most of the year.

“Thanks again! See you Thursday, professor!” Ellie hollered over her shoulder as she all but tore out your truck and ran towards the front door. By passing the scene of Joel stood in the driveway, garage open behind him once again.

“I better! You have a final!” You hollered after her, no real malice in your voice.  

She whizzed past Joel who was stood at the front of her car, hood open and engine block exposed to his perplexed expression. His hands were on his hips, a wrench in one and a screwdriver in the other. He was looking down into the exposed parts with a look you couldn’t quite read from the curb but when he spotted Ellie he called after her.

“Babygirl, I don’t see anything wrong with it. You said it was making a rattling sound, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah! A rattling sound.”

“From…where, exactly?” He turned a furrowed brow to her but she was determined to get away from his prying gaze, scurrying off without any more words. Her bag thumping against her shoulders as she rushed toward the door.

You had been so focused on watching her nearly trip over the steps leading to the front door that you didn’t notice Joel rise from his spot tinkering with something on her car and approach the side of yours.

“Hey there,” His cautious voice greeted you too close through the open window.

“Oh jesus, fuck! Joel don’t do that!” You startled so bad the seatbelt locked up and tightened around you, preventing you from taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Shit, sorry. Thought you saw me comin’ over.” A sheepish rub of his hand along the back of his neck, had your eyes roaming over the picture he made in the frame of the open window. Perfectly fitted, as if he should be on the inside of the truck beside you instead of standing outside of it. Close, but not close enough.

Quiet fell over the both of you, Joel looking into the cab of the truck, grease and oil marring his beautiful skin and white t-shirt and you gazing just to the right of him, not able to directly do so now that his attention was focused. The words shared between you both, all of the good, all of the bad, and all of the confusing floating in the heavy air between two people who had lived far too much in such a short amount of time. Echoes of everything passing in the charged air between you both.

Your name being uttered had your eyes glancing at his, the sun lighting them up into a bright hue and your heart fluttered in your chest. You held his gaze for a few seconds, heat creeping up your neck from the pulse of warmth that only he could cause filling your chest.

“Alright, well…thanks for bringing Ellie home.” He reached a handout to pat the side of the truck before shoving away.

“Hey, Joel, wait…” You leaned over, hoping that the words in your throat didn’t get stuck. When he turned quickly back to you, there was a hopeful pinch to his features, lips pursed as he waited with bated breath for you to continue. Taking a deep breath, you locked eyes with him again, keeping up the connection. The hope that glinted in them helped the words to flow from you in a quick push.

“Do, um, do you want to grab a coffee sometime?”

previous chapter || end

taglist: @hiddenbabynyc @jessthebaker @clevergirl74 @anavatazes @samiamproductions @76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute @sarap-77

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

[distortionbobble]

i miss Eddie Brock!!! and as always I am. ofc. thinking abt chase kink with him n venom. is this anything? is anyone listening to me

more below the cut but as always minors dni. chase kink, monsterfucking (if you’re reading for Eddie/ venom I assume you know what you’re getting into), claiming, consensual.. hunting?? idk

you know eddie. he’s the love of your life!! which means you know every single one of his moods. and lately, he’s been .. off. it’s not that he and venom haven’t been hunting, but even venom seems to be put off by the taste of the two-dime nasties out there.

they’re bored.

you think it’s kinda cute; venom, especially, has been acting like a puppy with not enough enrichment, tearing up the furniture in his boredom, seeking an outlet to all that energy. eddie, conversely, has been a little too quiet. where he’d usually respond enthusiastically he now meets your spontaneous trivia questions with a rather downtrodden “i dunno.” oh, your poor baby boys, you just wanna make it better.

so you formulate a plan.

a romantic getaway; camping (not that you’ve ever found camping all that romantic, but he seems to like it enough) in a forest, full of redwoods, with no one around for miles.

you could be scared. hell, if your boyfriend was anyone other than eddie there’s not even the slightest chance that you’d do all this. but he needs this. him and venom.

you keep your plan a secret as best as you can— you hike around in the daytime, nothing too strenuous, but you can’t make it seem too obvious that you’re saving up your energy. as the sun sets, before you’re headed to bed, you sit by eddie’s side, gazing up at the stars and making up your own constellations.

and eddie looks so beautiful next to you; kissing your forehead gently as you snuggle into the soft fabric of his hoodies. he always runs warm, cos of venom, but it works just fine for you. he’s like your own personal space heater. “i love you,” he says, but he sounds tired. he always sounds tired. he feels impatient and shifty— you’re guessing that’s venom acting up— but you convince him to go to bed.

once his breathing slows down is when you take your cue to go; you pull out the slip of paper you’d written up beforehand, come find me scrawled in black looping ink on the paper. you feel a little silly as you slip into your running shoes, tying your hair up, doing your fucking stretches but you gotta commit to the bit, if you will. you know the second you start running it’ll wake Eddie up so you take your time , tiptoeing out of the campsite and into the trees. you’re worried your heart is thumping loud enough to wake him up, but thankfully he’s still inside the tent as you create more distance between him and yourself.

okay, think, make this chase worth it. an apex predator is hunting you down, can use the trees, see better than you, is stronger than you, has a natural camouflage, and you’re starting to realize that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea when Eddie opens up the flap to the tent and calls out your name into the night air.

that’s your cue to run.

you’re so sure you sound so loud to him, panting, sticks crushing under your feet as you run as fast as you can. your heart feels like it’s gonna burst from your chest but you’ve got to keep going—you can hear him in the trees, using the branches to launch himself closer to you. you smear your sweaty palms on the trees— hey, it worked in twilight, didn’t it? and keep running, hoping that the scent will provide at least a little distraction.

your body teeters on the line of perceiving your adrenaline as fear versus excitement, tunnel vision forcing your legs to go go go until you can’t anymore, stopping by a tree as you look around in the dim moonlit forest to see if you can hear him, see him, but all you can hear is the blood roaring in your ears.

you take a step back— he’s gotta be here somewhere — when you realize that your back isn’t rested against the tree. no, it’s too smooth for that. you look up to see venom grinning above you, limbs reaching out to pull you in close to him.

“found you, pretty girl.”

[misscammiedawn]

it’s literally your own fault that you have trauma from personality play, idiot. why the fuck would you EVER engage in intense kink with people you didn’t trust/people who didn’t believe in hypnosis/etc. and not practice the most obvious safety precautions during lmao. moronic behavior honestly.

Wasn't 100% sure if I should reply or delete-- My rule is to delete anon-hate without a second thought and the moment the word 'idiot' was brought out it fell into that category. So firstly, no sympathy/support either for the message or the circumstances please. I'm not here for that and it undermines the point if people focus on that.

Buuut here's the thing. I know. This isn't an accusation or an insult or even mean. Everything you say is in the body of the Ethical Personality Play post. Like-- uuuh--- I dunno what to say? Congrats, you read the post?

Fact is these events happened 15+ years ago and the community lacked the support, education and structure that it has now. I'm trying to help build something which I needed back then. Will I save everyone? No. Can I help like one person? I hope so.

But like, I was a self-destructive moronic idiot 15+ years ago and I am sorta open about it?

Like here are direct quotes (key quotes bolded):

I have experience with this fallacy myself. In utilizing hypnosis to ignore my triggers I did severe damage to myself and I am now plagued with intrusive memories and nightmares of events that happened during scenes that I was able to effortlessly indulge in during the scene but as they say "The body keeps the score" and I was in fact doing further damage to myself. Something which my partner at the time was not equipped to deal with because I'd failed to disclose or even treat the situation as worth being safe about. Now I am just burdened with further damage by ignoring my brain's defenses on my existing pain.

Likewise I want to note the power imbalance that comes from play like this. A motivated hypnotee can fling themselves into this arena and do harm to the hypnotist. This does fly both ways. A hypnotee not advocating for themselves or exercising their agency will make a hypnotist accessory to the damage. This is a sin I have committed.

...look... I don't want to be an old lady yelling at the kids for doing things when I did them myself at that age. I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't pretend I didn't see the allure on both sides of the watch.

I just... there weren't 20+ year experienced hypnosis veterans who had been in my character play abusing position when I was growing up. No one warned me. I learned all this the hard way and I hurt people. People I loved. Moreover I hurt me. In ways that will never heal. I just want to spare anyone I can the pain of going through this.

So--- like

Yeah. You read the post and understood it. I'm glad you read the post and understood it.

The landscape was different back then but that's no excuse. We were a fucking dumb child who wanted to be anyone but ourselves and acted recklessly because of it. We were a dangerous and toxic hypnotee and we should have known better.

That's the lesson. That's the point. I'm not here to ask forgiveness from the people I hurt or sympathy for the fact we fucked up. We just want to help build framework that didn't exist when we were starting out.

History on the hypnokink community is a topic that probably does need to be taught-- but if you're young enough that you've never known a place without framework, education and support then I'm glad, honestly. It means a lot of good people, dedicated people, have done work building houses my silly little essays can only manage to move pebbles with. I'm glad for that. Really.

The post isn't there for you to think "Poor Cammie :(" it's there for you to think "What an idiot, I'm never going to be like her"

So-- yeah-- I don't post anon-hate as a rule-- so thank you for the fan mail. Knee-jerk reaction aside, it makes me happy that you got the point.