#i know i've been absent for literal years except for that time months ago when i dropped a checkmate update

[edxwin-elric]

I'm back (for however long this lasts) and I'm taking FMA fic requests for royai, edwin, and/or havolina. Send me your desires!

25 Angst Dialogue Prompts Pt.1

1. “How could you do this?!”

2. “When did everything go downhill so fast?”

3. “Who died and made you dictator over my life..”

4. “You can’t control me! Not anymore…”

5. “I’m done.”

6. “It’s over.”

7. “I’ve been hurt too much to trust anymore.”

8. “My heart will never be warm, only cold.”

9. “There is no, ‘putting me back together..’ I’m ruined.”

10. “I knew I would hit rock bottom, I just didn’t know it’d be this lonely.”

11. “I’m honestly too numb to care anymore.”

12. “Tired. I am fucking tired.”

13. “When I said ‘leave me alone’ I meant it.”

14. “Since when did you ever think we were a thing?”

15. “I guess I’ve only loved me all along.”

16. “You hurt me this badly and all you’ve got is ‘sorry’?!”

17. “Fuck you… Honestly.. Fuck. You.”

18. “I never cared for you, you were just a pawn.”

19. “Funny you think I’m some righteous person.. You know nothing of who I really am.”

20. “You treat me as if I’m some fucking toddler! I’m over it!”

21. “’Protecting’ me only led to me getting more fucked up in the first place!”

22. “I don’t recognize who’s in the mirror anymore. All I see is an empty shell.”

23. “You should’ve just killed me right then and there, I’ve only suffered since.”

24. “My life has been a living hell for years and I’m just now figuring out it’s your fault?!”

25. “Don’t talk to me every again. Whatever it is we had, it’s gone and never coming back.”

[growling]

For all the (mostly american) mutuals that were curious about the realm of Poland and its strange and unusual inhabitants:

Polish soldiers/armed forces etc salute with two fingers instead of the whole hand. Apparently some cub scouts also do that??

Mushroom picking season is like REALLY big here. Like. It's big. Poles love mushroom picking. When I was a young boy my mother, aunt and grandparents would drop me off into the wilderness to pick boletes for 4 hours straight then get lost and have to navigate back into the car via utilizing the earth's magnetic field to determine our position which took like 1 more hour and then once we got back I had to physically recover from that shit for like an entire week. We got like at least 4 huge baskets mushrooms after that that lasted for at least a few months if they're preserved well however I do not like mushrooms so I never even ate them. Except for cultivated mushrooms these are fine the soup bangs actually

I thought this was normal in most countries but turns out it's just us and a few others in eastern/middle Europe: most movies in Poland use voice-over translation/lektor filmowy instead of dubbing/subtitles. Multiple va dubbing is reserved mostly for children's movies and those real popular but mostly younger audience marvel type movies or something, while the subtitle type of translation is pretty rare and I honestly never even seen it on tv.

A FUCKTON of roadside/wayside shrines just being there, especially in smaller towns. Sometimes theres also a single shrine in the middle of nowhere in some woods with no civilization in sight and you just don't question it

those fuckibg white storks

We still got blasphemy laws ("offending religious feelings"/"obraza uczuć religijnych") by the way. Yes you can actually get arrested and fined and get sentenced to months of restriction of freedom for being mean to jesus

Not removing your shoes upon entering someone's place is considered rude. I feel physical pain whenever someone doesn't do that. Take them off kurwa jebana jego mać stop staining my beautiful surfaces I am going to kill you

Unlike the horror stories I've been hearing about the USA in Poland you're allowed to be rude to customers at your job🥰🥰 You can just not smile if you want🥰🥰🥰🥰 its so funny seeing tourists get so confused and offended over that and half the time we're not even being mean just. Literally servicing you with a neutral facial expression and minimal required effort sfdysrsfjewdggs

Yeah uhh related to above point kind of, there still seems to be a few remnants of a culture of distrust. 30-40 years ago neighbors snitched on each other for subversion and people sometimes just disappeared (PRL times). Fun fact during PRL my dipshit mega absent dead paternal grandfather used to beat people on the street with sticks as a job or perhaps a recreational activity in order to get goodboy points from the police. or the secret police. No idea all we know is that he didn't do that for free. Growling family lore drop

National eating donuts/pączki day. National water fight day

As far as I know, USAmericans (and honestly other english-speaking countries too?) really like to regard people they know only a little as a "friend" like I noticed its really really easy to get called a friend in there. Poles on the other hand are very scared of the word "friend" they really avoid saying it nearly all the time you won't hear a pole just say that. Most people are not our friends. That title is special sacred and reserved for only the worthy ones who you actually genuinely know and trust for a minimum of 10 years. In order to be considered someone's friend in Poland you have to max out all their meters complete all of their quests and defeat their father at the end. Most poles only have like 2-3 true "friends" lmao we really don't throw around that term lightly

Carpet hanger jumpscare

The "polish cow song" people love to meme not knowing the language/lyrics is actually about drug addiction lmao. Sorry. Lol

We also got raccoon dogs here👍👍👍

[withoneheadlight]

ok i saw this cap of zoë kravitz in hf and she's got such a dreamy expression, she looks so deeply self-absorbed and infatuated by whatever she's imagining and those lines. and i couldn't stop picturing billy exactly like that for days so,

,

There’s a pretty unusual sound coming off the house when Max comes back home, that summer afternoon.

Full volume. Walls shaking. And she quietly walks to the source of the sound, holding back her breath right in front of Billy's room because, there's this second sound? Stranger and way more unsettling and Max's not sure-sure at first but then Steve Perry’s voice takes off and Billy’s follows it and then he's like, singing along and. Well. Max did know Billy liked Journey but not like, their 'stuff for pussies' but uhm, he does, apparently. Rasps his voice all the way through ‘Faithfully’. Kind of, sighs. Longingly? When it ends? But pfff, ok, big brothers are weird. Definitely weirder after being possessed and then kind of resurrected. Even if it's in a good-weird way but, whatever. So Max's just about to sneak to her room, dutifully rolling her eyes, steps muffled by the first chords of 'Edge of the blade' when―

Click. Click. Billy stops the tape. Click. Takes it out. Tap. Tap. Click. Puts on― Billy puts. On,

Heaven.

Bryan Adams’ Heaven.

And Max―

Being a younger sister is a meticulous kind of full-time, private detective job. You gotta learn how the person you’ve been watching so carefully for years and years works. Hafta develop some sort of―sense about your target. And Billy’s been—un-Billy-like? These past two months. Smiling more. Telling more jokes. Playing ‘You shook me all night long’ in a loop on their drive to school and back, not complaining at all but even joining when’s Max who can’t help but sing along so.

So. She retraces her steps. Knocks. Takes the distracted grunt she gets as a ‘Yeahyeah, c’mon in c’mon in’ and,

Creak. Creak. ‘―baby you’re all that I want’

“Billy?”

Billy’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. Radio close to his knees. Cassettes scattered everywhere. Piles and piles of breakwater surrounding Billy’s old, rusty beacon of sound. He’s reading through the song-list of one of the tapes, a smoke locked on the corner of his mouth, bouncing up and down with every little, absent suck he takes, and he looks. He looks―

Self-absorbed and even. Relaxed. Happy. Like whatever he’s thinking about right now is actually carrying his thoughts away to fucking heaven.

“Ehh”

“Uh-hu?”

‘When you’re lying here in my arms!’

“Billy are you. What―” ‘I'm findin' it hard to believe. We're in heaven’ “What are you doing?”

But there’s this orbit around the sun and then there’s whatever one Billy's been spinning along with the last couple of months so he completely ignores her question. Shakes the tape on his left hand. Picks another one from the pile on his right. Asks her.

“Is Billy Ocean too much? ‘Cause I think it’s too much. But it kind of fits into what I'm trying to say so” he says, shrugs, looking up at Max and waiting for the answer of what she realizes was not really a question. Not at all. So she does her little sister job and just, nods “Right. That’s good. I think it’ll slide just nicely into Bruce Springsteen and―”

“Billy” Max insists, waiting for the charm of the third time to work. It doesn’t. Not really. But keeps Billy's eyes on her long enough to squeeze an “A mixtape?” And, uh. That’s what gets it on. The charm “Are you making a mixtape?”

“Uh?”

And it’s like Max just shook Billy out of a daydream. Ash plopping down from his cigarette as his lips try but can’t purse and Max― she’s good. She’s stellar at this detective thing. Recognizes an opening the moment she sees it, right there in front of her, frozen in the middle of shaking Billy Ocean and Bruce Springsteen in the air right before cocktailing them together. Shaken, not stirred, please. Max’s upgraded to James Bond-level just right now.

“You’re making a mixtape for someone”

“Oh-nonoMaxi―”

“But you didn’t have those tapes before. Not even in your secret stash”

“How do yo―?”

“Holy. ShIT. You’ve been listening to somebody else’s music” This is. Oh, God. This. Is. GOLD. Max gotta take a moment. Blink. Breathe. Process. Her hands move by themselves, palms spread toward Billy in a wait-a-minute kind of gesture except. Max’s gonna need way more than a minute for this “You’ve accepted a music recommendation”

“Maaaaax”

“Gosh, you’ve even listened to the tapes enough to. Make―”

“Max!”

“I just can’t believe it”

And Max was glad. Well. As glad as one can be. Bunch weeks ago. Her mom and Neil out for the day. Coming back home a little earlier than she usually does to hear those ugh. Those other noises. Happy screams. Again. After months and months of Billy being basically alone except for her and the party and Steve. And Max’s so glad, of course she is. But she’s also a little sister. And all this investigation work has a high, rightful purpose.

Make her big brother’s life a living. Hell.

“Oh my god, you must be so gone!” Max brings her hands to her mouth. Takes a deep, deep breath that’s more a poorly restrained giggle. Shoots her index at him “Is it Bon Jovi? What I’m seeing right there? Goddam, Billy are you in lo―”

Bam.

Bam. Bam!

The front door.

What a way to spoil the fun. Max doesn’t have time for this. She’s working.

“BILLY?” comes a voice from the other side “Billy are you in there?”

Steve.

Oh.

What a way to make the fun a hundred times better.

Bam.Bam.Bam!

She’s starting to move to get to the door, sinsonging “Well, I guess Steve’s gonna find out you’re so stupid in love you’re willingly listening to―” when she realizes Billy’s eyes have widened and he’s jerkingly trying to unfreeze, he’s mumbling something in around his already extinguished cigarette in the ways of “Can’t” and “Find out” and “Surprise” and “Fucking help me!” While literally trying to shove the huge mass of tapes under his bed, his tone like hurryhurryhurry!, like he would start gagging and throwing his lungs out at any given minute, so nervous he looks.

So Max doesn’t go for the door. Yet. She basks in the enjoyment.

“Oh, is it a secret romance or something?” She sighs happily, leaning against the doorframe instead. “‘Cause you look pretty worried”

Steve’s banging the door now, voice wavering a little as he asks-shouts “Billy? Billy answer me! Hey, bab―Are you ok?”

“Max, please” Billy begs. Begs. Crawling over to where a Madonna’s Like a virgin is laying with the tape looping slightly out “He really can’t find out”

“What? That you’re in lo-o-oh-oh-OH―”

Billy stops at the tone, right there on his knees. Spits his forgotten cig to the side. And in the instant it seems to take him to make up his mind they both can hear Steve shout “Ok. I know you’re in there!. I’m coming in now!!”

“Fuck! Yeah. I am. Ok?” he looks like he just realized he’s tripped. Blushes. “Making it, I mean”

BAM!

And Ohhhhhhh.

Zero-fucking-zero-fucking-seven.

“Steve,” Max gasps. Because. Hear it makes it like. Easier. To process “You. And Steve”

B A M!

“Yeah, Max, Yeah. And this is a fucking surprise and he’s gonna―”

‘I've been waitin' for so long. For somethin' to arrive. For love to come along’

Ok. Oh. Okok.

“Door!” Max hastens him.

“What?”

“You. Door. Run!” She commands, and Billy― sometimes Max can’t honestly understand how he's got the grades he's got, because Billy blinks, looks clueless “C’mon slow ass. Hurry! I’ll hide all this shit”

And Billy finally gets it. Nods. Slow. Then fast. Stumbles up. Literally runs, to get to the door.

Max still gets to hear his labored “Fuck, pretty boy. “That was really hardcore of you. That's how bad you wanted to see me?” And Steve's own breathless “Really?” Before pushing Billy's room door close with her back, and kneeling on the floor to check for stray, incriminating cassettes.

Pretty boy. Maybe Max isn't as clever as she thought she is. Or hasn’t been doing her job right, clearly.

It's when she’s making ‘It’s a kind of magic’ disappear into the rest of the pile that she lays eyes on it. The case. The J-card written almost all the way down to the B-side already. A mixture of songs Billy's heard so many times there are parts where his tapes screech, and others she'd bet her life he wouldn’t have deigned to listen to. Not ever. Definitely not because―no, for, somebody. Bowie and Cher and Cindy Lauper and Bob Seger right next to Metallica and Guns n' Roses and Meatloaf and― there. There. Almost hidden in the back of the spine. A note. A tiny, thin-lettered thing Max really, really shouldn't be reading but―

‘Thanks for driving me back.

Love. Billy’

But. That's what little sisters do too, she guesses. Intrude. Annoy. Snoop. Feel this sudden rush of relief. Of happiness. When Billy laughs softly, on the other side of the door. When Steve laughs back. Maybe a tear. Or two. But just maybe. She’s really good at this little sister thing, after all.

Hopes for stellar.

,

or: that post s3 where steve lets a camaro-less billy drive him around in his own car "really? again, hargrove?" almost every single day, for months, after he comes back, because "you’re gonna perpetually stick yourself to my ass at least let me do the one thing that frikin’ calms me down" which results in steve resigning himself to deejaying in the shotgun even if "jesus, what's that shit, harrington?" "my car, my rules, sweetheart" which results in billy developing a ‘songs steve harrington is in love with’ mental playlist, realizing he’s probably a little bit in love with the way he loves them and, possibly, a little much love with steve and then stealing steve's tapes one day and,

making a mixtape about it.

(the first of a whole lot, of love letters)

[trafalgaylaw]

Hey there.

First of all, I'm sorry I've haven't been here in ages. A lot has happened. So I'd like to apologise in advance for the rant that's coming, but somehow, this is the safest place for me to get everything out of my system. Feel free to ignore and hide this post, there is no pressure on you to respond, I'm not looking for interactions specifically, I just need an outlet. Some stuff may be triggering, but there'll be warnings here and in the tags, don't worry about that. I'm embarrassed, I was absent for several months and I don't even come back with a OP related post.

Without further ado, trigger warnings: cancer, death

Some of you may already know that I lost my Mom to cancer 5 years ago. Well, back in May of this year, I lost my dad to a cancer as well. I thought it was going to be the same all over again. Boy, was I wrong. Sure, there were a lot of similarities, but mostly major differences. Mom had no chance of survival, we knew from the start. She got into treatment against her will because my sister-in-law was pregnant and she was afraid that if my Mom died before she gave birth she might lose the baby... My Mom's will was never taken into consideration. She didn't want to fight windmills, she didn't have any regret and she was okay with the idea of dying.

For my dad, it was the total opposite. He wanted to live so bad, he didn't want to die and wanted to try absolutely everything. His survival chances were anywhere between 4 months and 5 years, we were on rollercoasters, treatments working and then not working anymore, promises of experimental treatments only to be told 3 months later that they couldn't get his full genetic profile and couldn't be sure if he could undergo the treatment. It happened 3 times. He wanted to try a last chemo but the doctors denied him it because he was already too weak to take it.

The other main difference, is that Mom's cancer didn't change her personality, but it did change my dad's. The problem is, except for my fiancé who noticed as well, no one believed me. I don't want to know if they were in denial or if he specifically changed his attitude towards me but I think the latter is more likely as I was the only one he lied to about the epilepsy.

When Mom was sick, I was incredibly surrounded and got flooded by support when she passed.

The moment dad got sick, I started getting blamed and questioned for almost everything, and I'm still receiving comments now. I got blamed for:

- not being there while my dad, who lived over 900km (convert in miles yourself weirdos, I'm french, we do metric system round here) away from me and didn't want my physical presence anyway, was having seizures, that he hid from me

- the fact that my dad chose to lie to me about his state (somehow my fault apparently)

- the fact that my brain put me in autopilot mode in the first weeks following his death to protect me and take care of all the immediate responsibilities as I was getting practically no help

- not holding a funeral while 80% of his close relatives literally said to me "if you do something I won't come"

- collapsing after 2 months

I'm being told to move on. I'm being told to force myself to feel happy. In the 5 years my Mom has been dead, I've never been told to "move on". All the guilt tripping lead me to feel ashamed of my grief and unauthorised to talk about it. They've taken the trust away from me. It's like I'm not allowed to remember him. I can't even look at pictures of him anymore, I just can't. And it makes me feel so sad. You would expect compassion and all you get is criticism. While I'm crying about losing my last pillar, all people hear is "there's no experimented adult left to protect her" and that is terrifying. I'm scared of almost everyone and not sure anymore who is safe to talk to. I'm afraid that if I talk about it, people will try to take advantage of my situation. Is because people think I'm an adult and don't need parents anymore? Is the difference of support I got because of patriarchy in the way we view mothers and fathers? Is it because I'm 25 and people's attitude change towards you at that age because they begin to expect specific things from you and call it your "quarter life crisis" to create a diversion about their peer pressuring? Is people's lack of compassion because they think he "provoked" it by smoking most of his life? Is it a combo of all this?