#i think its brain could live on...or always be revived

[cherubchoirs]

cold-hearted

[tobecatherine]

Nightmare Comfort

Part 2

Okay ya'll, it's been a very long time since I've found a character that has made me want to write like this. Once I got to romancing Gale in the second act I was hooked. I've read so many good stories lately that I decided last night to write and see what comes out. Please keep in mind I am still only in act 2 of the game so I don't know the ending. So some details may not be accurate.

I will warn you, it's a little depressing to start but apparently it's something my brain needed to get out. I would probably label this as sad, mixed with fluff and if enough people want me to continue, there could be a spicy second part.

To set the scene, picture this: It's been a few months since you returned to Waterdeep with Gale after the end of your travels. Ever since slowing down your mind has been racked with guilt, feeling like you don't deserve comfort you start to push Gale away.

Please be kind:

First person

Gale/Reader

Word Count: 2332

Nightmares had, in some way, always had a hold on you. But once returning to Waterdeep with Gale, they seemed to have gotten worse. It started with small, repeated dreams of the battles you fought together that pushed you to do things that normally would have been out of character for you. Haunted by lives you couldn’t save, the people you had failed. They would slip into your dreams every few weeks, reminding you of where you had been. It didn’t matter how many you did save, in your mind, only the ones you failed mattered deep down.

When you would wake, for just a moment, you would think you were back there, in the heat of battle. But as your body regained its senses and you’d open your eyes, you’d see Gale’s slumbering face, listening to his soft breathing. Just having him so close would bring you back to reality. It made you glad that you didn’t move much in your sleep. The shame you felt over this, you couldn’t tell him. You knew he’d listen but you also knew he would want to fix it but in your own way, you felt like this is what you deserved. So you let the dead haunt your dreams, doing your best to hide your growing exhaustion.

As the nightmares became more frequent, it felt almost like it was becoming a ritual to wake up and just take in Gale’s sleeping face. You would spend hours just gazing and scanning every wrinkle, dimple, freckle and scar he had. The thought crossed your mind that if you did this long enough you could memorize the slope of his nose and the curve of his cupid's bow and maybe, just maybe, the picture perfect image of him in your mind could chase away the bad dreams. 

Tonight's nightmare was especially bad. You stood there, the day you thought you had lost Gale forever. The moments replaying in your mind as you watched him die, shedding tears over his body because you weren’t sure he could be brought back. While your party had found a way to revive the love of your life, the feelings of mourning were still all too real. When you awoke, you felt tears on your face and when you opened your eyes the comfort you sought wasn’t there.

Panic arose in your chest as you sat up quickly to see where he could be. Your eyes scanned the room, coming upon the open doors that lead to the balcony. There, in the pale moonlight, you could see Gale standing shirtless, leaning slightly against the door frame, his back to you as he gazed upon the stars. While you couldn’t see his face, his body language and the energy you felt from him, you could tell something was wrong.

Quietly you removed the blanket that covered you on the bed you shared. The air was warm on this night so you had gone to sleep with nothing on other than one of Gale’s tunics. Slowly you raised yourself off the bed, walking slowly up behind the tall striking man in front of you. As you reached him you wrapped your arms around his waist, your hands gently placed on his belly, leaning forward just enough to rest your forehead against his back. In automatic fashion Gale’s big hands rested over yours as a long sigh left his lungs.

You could feel the guilt in your throat coming up like bile, wanting nothing more than to tell him everything you had been feeling but you still couldn’t bear drowning him in your issues. You need to be strong, perfect, beautiful, all the things he tells you you are every day. If you couldn’t do that then you failed him too. So instead you pressed close into his back, tightening your arms around him, worried that at any minute he could just drift away into a cloud of smoke.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” He asked, ever so softly. So softly that you almost missed it but you had felt that familiar rumble from his chest as he spoke.

“You knew?” You asked. A lump in your throat forming as you try not to speak louder than a whisper. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted you to come to me… I… I knew something was wrong but I could tell that you wanted to handle it yourself so I didn’t push. You are beautiful beyond comparison but you are also stubborn and bullheaded. But the longer this has gone on My Love, your nightmares aren’t as silent as you think they are. It breaks my heart to see you struggling like this and I can’t just sit back and wait anymore,” He said, turning around to face you, still holding your hands. “I’m starting to think you don’t trust me.”

Gently he raises each of your hands to his lips, leaving small kisses along your knuckles before placing each one so you're holding him around his neck.. The hair on his face tickling your skin almost made you smile but you found yourself still looking at the floor, your heart at your feet. With another sigh, Gale laid one hand against your waist, keeping you close to him. The other carefully raises your head by the chin to look at him. Gale’s eyes look longingly into yours as his hand cups your cheek. 

For a moment you relax, tilting your face into his palm, feeling your body relax for just a moment. The heat from his hand felt comforting against your skin. 

“I’m sorry, none of this is your fault. You have done so much for me. I didn’t want to add another burden to your plate.” you say, lip quivering. “I must look pathetic… I am pathetic.” 

You watch as Gale’s brows furrow and the corners of his mouth point downward. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip to calm its quiver. His eyes search yours for understanding, recognition. “Where is the strong brave Druid that I fell in love with on the road?”

You can feel your gut clench, you didn’t have an answer, he was right, this wasn’t you. “I’m afraid I lost her,” You replied, your fingers twisting curls with the hair on the back of his neck. You were sure Gale was going to end this, ask you to leave because you weren’t the girl he fell in love with anymore. Tears flowed freely down your cheeks now. It felt like a dam had burst behind your eyes.

At the sight of this, Gale wrapped both arms around you, with one smooth motion he lifted you into his arms, carrying you back to bed. You were sure he would just lay you there and walk away but instead he sat on the bed, resting you carefully on his lap, cradling you in his arms.

“Every day you tell me how you love me, you reassure me about the choices we’ve made. Why won’t you let me do the same for you?” He asked softly. “You can’t keep bottling up all these feelings. I  don’t understand why you insist on suffering in silence but if that’s what you need then…. I want you to cry for as long as you need to and I will hold you for as long as you need me to.”

With his words, suddenly a flood of emotion burst forth. Pressed against his chest you let yourself sob, groan, and scream. Muffling yourself against his skin, you let out the rage and anxiety that pent up for the last few weeks. He was right, you shouldn’t have bottled this up, the heat in your chest made you feel like you were in the throat of a dragon.

It took a few minutes but you soon realized Gale was whispering in your ear. Straining your ears to hear the soft words he spoke. Between your sobs and frustration, you could hear him say, “I love you.” “my heart has never ached more for anyone than it does for you.” “I will be here for you always, you just have to let me in.”

For the first time you could admit the truth. “I’m scared,” You said, finally regaining control of your breathing.

“What are you scared of, my sweet?” Gale asked, now rocking the two of you back and forth.

“Of everything.” You said, taking deep long breaths now as you come down from the all too embarrassing tear filled journey you just took in Gales arms. Moving ever so slightly you rest your head on his shoulder, wishing your nose wasn’t now stuffy so you could breathe in his scent.

Softly you let your lips kiss the soft skin of his neck, admitting to yourself that this really had gone for too long. So, you started to let it all go.. There in Gale’s arms you tell him your whole story. You admit that before the whole venture started you had been alone for quite some time. It has made you view sharing things with others a burden because who could you trust when you were mostly alone. You spoke about those you failed and how they haunt your dreams but the biggest fear of all, was the fear of waking up and realizing Gale had only been a dream the whole time.

At the mention of himself, Gale chuckled. “You aren’t going to lose me. The road we traveled was a rough one, and even with everything I know, I would trade all the stars in the sky, all the air in my lungs, even all my books just to spend every last moment I live with you.”

Your eyebrows raise as he mentions his book collection. “You’re really serious,” you said, lifting your head to look at him with surprise. You search his face for anything other than the serious look he now wore.

“I don’t joke about my book collection sweetheart,” he said, gently placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t deserve you, I feel like all I’ve done is trick you.”

This time Gale placed his lips against yours. Slow and soft, his hand moving to rest on the back of your head, his fingers running through your hair. You’ve known Gale was one who showed his love more than he spoke about it, but he was good at both nonetheless. You could feel the pure emotion he put forth in his kiss. He took his time kissing each section of your face, wanting you to feel as loved and precious as he viewed you. When his lips found yours again it was like your heart was suddenly being filled with more love for this wizard than you ever thought possible.

Once your lungs ached for air you finally pulled away from his lips. Gathering your composer you finally explained the rest of your insecurities, you finally explained your fear of losing him and how it felt to feel your heart break into a million tiny pieces from the uncertainties of his survival that day.

“Every day I get with you feels like a dream… and when I sleep… the nightmares are my reality. Everything has just felt too good to be true. I’m sorry Gale… I know this side of me isn’t what you signed up for,” you tell him, your eyes meeting his.

Gale leaned forward, kissing your forehead for a long moment before pulling back and resting his own against yours so you could share each other's breath. “My love, when I asked you to marry me, I meant it. There is no one in this world or in the heavens that I have loved so fully and who has made me feel like just being me is good enough. I want to stay beside you, no matter what life brings. Be that nightmares, blissful dreams, fights, love making, every moment I get to spend with you makes me feel like the luckiest man alive.”

“I have never loved someone the way I love you,” you say in return. “That’s why it scares me so much. Now that all of that is behind us, it’s like my mind won’t just let me be. We’ve been through so much, we’ve shared so much. What if I ruin this?”

“I won’t let you,” he said simply. “I will just have to remind you how loved and cherished you are.” With that Gale tilted his head and caught your lips in another kiss. Gentle and sweet. You could feel love move through him, making your heart skip. “I have an idea that might help… maybe not right away but with time I think we can change the way your mind has tried to trick you.”

“I’d do just about anything to make this end and get to just live… here with you,” You say softly.

Sitting up straighter Gale smiled down at you in his arms. “Good, I love you… we’ll do this in two parts. First, every morning, I want you to tell me five things that make you happy. It doesn’t matter what they are or why they make you happy. You just need to remind yourself that there are plenty of things that bring you joy. Then second, I want you to tell me something we could do together that would make you feel better.”

Your cheeks flush from the first thought that crossed your mind when he said this. A small smile creeping onto your lips as your teeth start to lightly chew on your bottom lip. “Like making love under the stars like we used to?” You mumbled. Sex felt like it should be the farthest thing from your mind, but the stolen nights the two of you shared on the road were some of the most comforting and happy moments you remember having in your whole life. 

With a smirk and a chuckle Gale nodded. “That my love, I can provide.”

[slowandsteddie]

Lazy Petals

AO3

Okay. This work is NOT completed. I cannot guarantee an update schedule because only the first chapter is completed. However, I DO have everything plotted out (assuming it doesn’t get a mind of its own) and the goal is to be 50k+ words.

This story is very personal to me. I’ve taken my grandparents love/live story and made it Steddie. The characters are going to be OOC. Just letting you know right off the bat in case that is something you aren’t interested in. Also, this is a No Upsidedown AU.

My grandparents were immediately obsessed with each other, but didn’t date until after they had graduated high school. Which means that while this isn’t a slow burn, it is going to be slower than the stuff I usually write.

I don’t want to give too, too much stuff away. There there is a post where I described the main highlights and asked your opinion on reading it. There is also a poll where I asked if I should start posting before it was finished, and I got a pretty definite yes.

I saved the divider that I plan on using for this series back when I first started talking about it. I have since lost my note that told me whom to give credit to. If you know who made it (or know how to find that information on mobile!!) please let me know.

I think that’s enough of a preamble. Without further ado, here be the CW’s and the first 3,489 words.

Content Warnings: Steve was hit by a car and in a full body cast for over a year - he makes a bowling joke about it, his parents are very distant, his grandparents got very distant after his injury and he doesn’t understand why, Wayne is very careful while babysitting to make sure that no one can accuse him of being inappropriate, mentions of his mom overmedicating him so he’s easier to deal with, mentions of how weak he got from being in the cast. And as always, let me know if I missed anything.

Steve didn’t remember much about that night.

His mother said that it was a blessing and refused to fill in any blanks for him under any circumstances.

His father, however, if he had drunk enough whiskey, would look at the six year old Steve as though he were a much older man and sigh before telling him anything he wanted to know.

Which meant that Steve knew that the car that hit him swerved in order to do so. (He didn’t know if the lady in the little blue car did it on purpose, or if she was a distracted driver. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know that.) He knew that she had to have been going over forty miles per hour because the impact sent him flying at least a dozen feet before he slammed into that bus stop. He knew that the driver kept going and that at least half a dozen people ran to his aid and that one of the women had screamed because he was unconscious and she was so certain that he was dead. His little body was so broken and bloody and they couldn’t see him breathe.

He also knew that his father got to his hospital room before his mother, sweat pouring down the older male’s body as though he had showered in his clothes because he had run there from work. His mother showed up over twenty minutes later, all put together like she had taken the time to clean herself up before appearing. Something his father wasn’t sure if he could forgive her for. (This was one of the few times that his father would express just how much that he loved Steve, and he would carry that warmth with him forever.)

He knew that they had to revive him four times, that they had done twelve surgeries, that they had put him in a full body cast because nearly every bone in his body had been broken, including parts of his spine. He knew that his parents had been told that he would likely never walk again. He knew that a specialist had pulled his father aside to inform him that his brain wouldn’t develop normally after all of the trauma that it had been through after being smacked around in his skull. They’d have to be careful, and that they’d have to understand if he never progressed much past the age that he was now. That he could be in his fifties and still acting five and that there was nothing that could be done beyond what they had already done – remove a small part of bone behind his ear to help relieve the pressure and pray for the best while preparing for the worst.

And, while he couldn’t remember the absolute agony that he must have been in. He did have the descriptions that he used to tell his father. That there was lava in his veins and his bones were shards of ice cold glass threatening to tear him apart completely. His father had only told him that part once, with tears in his eyes. “There wasn’t anything I could do to help you, boy. I couldn’t take the pain away. I would have died to save you even a fraction of that.”

That was one of the few times that he could remember his dad hugging him. He had been so careful and gentle while pressing his face into his hair. He inhaled deeply and he cried. And Steve had done his best to hug him back despite the plaster that made it near-impossible to move his arms at all.

At first, Steve had thought that it was really cool to be stuck in bed all the time. He didn’t have to do anything. That got boring within a week and he still had at least a year ahead of him where he was meant to stay in bed unless he was in the bathroom or at a doctor’s appointment.

Even eating in bed, something that had once been unacceptable and even punishable before, lost its novelty pretty quickly.

He liked having his mom read him notes from the teacher and his classmates. He liked her reading him his homework assignments and writing down his answers for him so that he would still be on track. It made him feel like an important man, like his dad was going to be, with a secretary.

The thing is, though, that he really missed going outside. He missed playing in the woods outside of the trailer park where he lived. He missed going to his grandparents house with the pool and the stairs that he’d probably never be able to walk again. He could climb them, though, after the cast was removed. He was pretty sure. He might not have a lot of muscle left at that point, but that would just mean that he was lighter and had less to have to move anyway.

When Steve brought that up to his mother, her lips would turn into a very tight, thin line and something he couldn’t name would flash in her eyes. “You are not going to go to that house any time soon, young man. It’s best to let those ideas go.”

“But I miss Grandma Marty and Grandpa Pete, and they won’t come here,” he whined.

“The Harrington’s won’t come to the trailer park and you know that.”

“We’re Harrington’s too,” he’d say defiantly.

She’d leave the room at that. Effectively ending an argument that they had had multiple times before. But what else did Steve have to talk about? He didn’t really have anyone else to talk to either, other than their neighbor that he had taken to calling Mister Wayne.

Wayne was probably a few years older than his dad and lived alone in a trailer that had always seemed so lively despite the quiet man who lived in it. He always had the tv or the radio on when he was home and Steve lived for that. Because his window was always cracked open for the breeze, which meant the sound could drift to him as well.

It was better than the quiet of his house that only seemed to get broken up with arguments and slamming doors. He was so used to it, but he still flinched every time and did his best to pull the blanket over his head as though that would muffle the sounds.

Sometimes, Wayne would come to his window and read him a book that his own nephew liked. The Hobbit. Steve fell in love with the adventure of it, and Wayne never seemed to mind reading him the same book over and over, a few pages at a time while he smoked.

More often than not, Wayne was the one who came over to babysit once he noticed that Steve had been left alone. He never once complained about it, never once gave someone else the chance despite all the ladies who would come over with food. And wine for his mom, when they could spare it.

Sometimes, Wayne would talk about his nephew. He was a scrawny kid, a few years older than Steve, named Eddie. Had a dark mop of long curly hair, and eyes that always seemed to have mischief in them. They’d like each other, Wayne was pretty sure, and he’d introduce them the next time that Eddie came to visit.

Steve would want to ask when that would be, but he never did. He had Mister Wayne and that was more than enough for him. His dad was staying later at the office, trying to prove that he deserved that promotion that would get them the hell out of the trailer park, without his parents' money. His mother was getting into yoga and book clubs, and Steve was being left alone a lot. Because, what kind of trouble could he get into when he was stuck in bed? Besides, the neighbors could hear if he shouted for anything and Wayne seemed very invested in making sure that he was okay.

Steve never knew why the older man made sure that his curtains were always wide open and that his light was on so that others could see that he was reading to him, or talking with him, from a chair that was always at least three feet away. Maybe it was so they would know he wasn’t alone? He wasn’t going to ask about it, not wanting to chance scaring away the one adult who never raised his voice at him, who never abandoned him when things got hard like his grandparents seemed to.

Months went by like this. His parents not being home, his grandparents not even calling about him, and Wayne doing his best to fill in the difference despite his own job. The other neighbors would come on occasion, but Steve was very sullen with them where he would laugh with Wayne. That didn’t deter them from coming over as he would have liked, and begrudgingly he found himself becoming friendly with a few of them.

It was the beginning of summer when Steve was finally able to get the casts removed. His father took him to the appointment, and he tried to not be disappointed that his mother wasn’t there at first. By the time he was wheeled out to the front of the office, though, his mother was sitting where his father had been.

He did his best to not look at himself. He was pale and scrawny and kind of stinky from not being able to wash himself properly because of all the plaster that had basically covered him for over a year. Most of his bones had healed great, according to the doctor. He wouldn’t know because he still hadn’t looked.

His father came back from wherever he had been, paid the bill with tight lips, and then took Steve out to the car. His mother helped him into the seat before covering him with a blanket that he was grateful for. It wasn’t that he was cold, he just didn’t want the chance to look at himself yet. He wanted to do that when he was home, where if he broke down and cried, no one else would know. Or, he wouldn’t have to see them knowing in any case. And that was enough for him.

They stopped for ice cream on the way and Steve asked for a small strawberry cone. Strawberry wasn’t his favorite, but it was what Grandma Marty had all the time, and he missed her even though she didn’t acknowledge him anymore. Wouldn’t answer his calls, wouldn’t call him back. He didn’t even know if she got the letters that Wayne had helped him write.

When they got home, Wayne wasn’t home. Not for the first time, Steve found himself deeply upset by that. He’d never voice it. Adults had responsibilities outside of him. And he knew that he only got about an hour with Wayne a day, maybe two if he was incredibly lucky.

His father came to help him out of the car, because he had more muscle if Steve should happen to fall. He clung to his father’s arm with all the strength that could muster as he walked like a baby giraffe toward their trailer. Well, he called it walking. It was more like wiggling his lower spine and hips while throwing his legs forward. After maybe five steps like that, he found himself being lifted into his father’s impatient arms as he was carried the rest of the way in and sat on the couch.

“Thank you,” Steve said instead of complaining about not being able to use his legs. He had wanted to walk, to prove that he could.

His father simply grunted in response before going to the kitchen to grab a drink. The same way he always did when he was home for the night.

His mother was inside a few minutes behind them, having stopped to talk to a neighbor briefly. She looked at Steve on the couch and tilted her head at him with a calculating look in her eyes.

“Would you like a bath?”

“Yes, please.”

This time, Steve did get to walk on his own two feet to the destination. He was leaning heavily on the wall, almost gripping on to it with one hand as he practically threw himself forward. He was breathless by the time that he got to the bathroom and pain seemed to radiate out through his entire body, starting at his tail bone.

“You can have some meds after your bath,” his mother said gently. “And I’ll get you your refill before dinner, okay? So you don’t have to worry about running out.”

Steve didn’t think it was time to refill his medicine yet, but he didn’t question it. His mom was on top of it. He was a kid who lost track of time a lot.

He sat on the toilet and he watched his mom prepare the bath for him, knowing that she would only let him have the water a little above room temperature. His skin was sensitive and the steam wouldn’t be good for him with the medicine that he was taking. He couldn’t even have hot food without the steam making him nauseous.

Carefully, he was pulled back to his feet and stripped of his clothes before he was helped into the tub that seemed to be more bubble than water. He sat down carefully, wincing a bit as he did so, before letting himself lean back in the water that felt warmer than it probably was because of his weakened, cool skin.

He sighed in contentment as his mother washed his body for the first time in what seemed like years. He was nearing seven years old and thinking about years in the past, it would make his dad laugh if he shared that thought with him, an idea that made him smile.

His mom washed his hair, tilting his head back and using a hand to make sure that no soap got in his eyes that he had squeezed tight. He got to play in the bubbles for a few minutes, his dad standing at the door as his mom got him some comfy clothes and a towel.

It was his dad who dried him off and helped him get into his clothes.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he said softly. He knew he was expected to thank his dad for everything he did that was above and beyond, which meant he ended up thanking him for everything.

Steve was carried back to his bed, something that he would have whined about if he wasn’t so tired and in so much pain. He was tucked in and his mom came to give him some toast and juice to take his pills with. He knew he was only meant to have one, but he took both that his mother gave him anyway. He washed it away with grape juice and half of the slice of toast she had brought him.

“Thank you, Mommy,” he murmured.

“Get some rest, love,” she replied while kissing his forehead. “You had a big day today.”

Steve nodded in agreement, wishing that it could be that easy to just let the sleep overtake him. He closed his eyes as his mom left the room.

His father checked on him once a day, his mother gave him two pills instead of one, and made sure he at least had breakfast and dinner. One of the neighbors made sure he had lunch and new puzzles to work on, new toys to play with. Steve would wander around the trailer as best as he was able, and Wayne would read to him before he went to bed.

Days turned to weeks like that.

One day, Wayne wasn’t at work and both of Steve’s parents were gone. He wandered over to his bedroom window and opened it wide.

“Mister Wayne, if I can get to the front door, can you help me out?”

His walking was still unsteady and stairs were very difficult for him.

“Are your parents okay with you being outside?” Wayne asked sympathetically.

“Uh. Dad said I could as long as I either finished my puzzle or put it up first.”

Wayne gave him a knowing look. “Okay, you little hellion. But only because I know you’d hurt yourself trying to do it anyway.”

Steve beamed and closed his window most of the way before making his way to the front door. It was a struggle to unlock the door because of the latch chain, but he managed. Wayne was waiting there for him with an unlit cigarette hanging between his lips.

“Getting outside used to be easier,” he sighed before reaching out.

“Maybe it’s the weight of knowing that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be,” Wayne teased as he picked Steve up and set him back down on the ground.

“No idea what that means, but thank you for helping me pass the stairs.” Steve grinned widely, the dirt and grass squishing slightly beneath his toes. It felt so good.

“You’re welcome, brat.”

Steve giggled before doing his version of walking. He took maybe ten steps, very much aware of how closely he was being watched. His breath came a little harder from the effort, the times between walking so close together. Shakily, he sat down as carefully as he was able. Movement caught his attention and made his head snap up to look toward Wayne’s trailer.

“You gotta ghost!” He exclaimed.

Wayne laughed at that, shaking his head. “That’s the nephew I’ve been telling you about. He’s staying with me for awhile. Treat him like a skittish cat until he’s used to ya, and I’m sure y’all would be good friends.”

“Eddie,” Steve said happily. “Can he come out so I can meet him?”

“I’ll send him out after I smoke my cigarette,” he said as he put more distance between them before lighting up.

“Thank you!”

Steve laid down flat on the grass, spreading his arms and legs out as much as he could without the pain becoming unbearable. It wasn’t very far, but he didn’t care. He got to grip the green strands in his fingers. He got to feel the light and heat of the sun soaking into his skin and settling into his bones. He was beyond convinced that the bright yellow thing in the sky was much more healing than the meds that made him feel tingly from his head to his toes.

He must have fallen asleep like that, because next thing he knew he was being awoken by a toe nudging his shoulder. His eyes flashed open and he was met by the most dark, beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen.

“Uncle Wayne said you just got released from the mummy’s curse.”

“He said that?”

“Well. He said your name was Steve and you just got a full body cast removed a few weeks ago.”

“That sounds more like him.”

“So…What happened?”

“A lady tried to go bowling with me and her car. The only pin she knocked down was me.”

Eddie snorted. “Shoulda planted your feet more firmly, she woulda gotten a strike.”

Steve’s lips tugged into the widest smile that he had ever had on his face. “My parents don’t like it when I joke about it.”

“Parents are stupid.”

“Yeah. How long are you stayin’?”

“As long as I can.”

Steve hummed in thought. “You any good at reading out loud?”

“Depends. What book?”

“The Hobbit.”

Eddie’s entire face lit up, his huge smile showing off the chipped front tooth. “My favorite book in the entire world? Yeah, I’m pretty good at reading it out loud.”

“We should read to each other. I have troubles with some words, but I am trying.”

“I’d like having someone to read and play with.”

“Oh, uh. Playing is hard for me right now. I’m still trying to get my strength back.”

“It’s okay. We read The Hobbit, we gotta have a pretty good imagination. We can pretend to play.”

Steve blushed and looked away. He never had someone his own age willing to work around his limitations before.

“I heard about a game with dice where we can talk out stuff and the dice decide how well it goes,” Steve said suddenly.

“Dungeons and Dragons!” Eddie apparently decided that he was tired of standing because he flopped down next to him at that. He rolled around in the grass before eventually settling on his side, propping his head up on his hand. “I can find a way to make that work with just two people.”

“Oh.”

“Turn that frown upside down, friend. I like a challenge. We’ll make this work because it sounds like fun.”

Steve beamed.

Taglist (let me know if you want added or removed! I was just trying to get who I remembered to seem interested!):

@estrellami-1 @eriquin @epiclazershark @morganski-19 @ellaelsinore @y4r3luv @valinwonderland @thespaceantwhowrites @jackiemonroe5512 @spectrum-spectre @princessstevemunson @ghost--enthusiast @gothwifehotchner @kas-eddie-munson @auroraplume @salisbury-at-the-stake @currently-steddiebrainrot @finntheehumaneater @marshmellowpaint @littlewildflowerkitten @perseus-notjackson @sapphirecobalt-1 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @gloomysoup @anne-bennett-cosplayer

[mew2late]

long rant abt c pumpkin & (some) tnt duo

(cw/tw: loads of abuse mention)

screams and shakes around like that one halloween animatronic … u know the one …

like this is how i feel when i think abt tnt duo. in my mind its always been one sided… like they can never actually MUTUALLY like each other. it’s such a disheartening feeling/experience. never being able to recognize their own feelings or the other person’s.

I could rant abt Quackity’s relationships for genuinely fucking ever. I genuinely believe that Q and Wil are so incompatible and are gen only able to quote unquote be together when their lives are in ruins. They can only find solace in each other when they’re amidst chaos or their own downfall like it’s a fucking joke. BUT NOT WHEN THEIR LIVES ARE GOOD! They have no interest in one another when they’re being fulfilled in some other way. They’re genuinely ALWAYS each other’s last resorts and I will DIE ON THAT HILL.

Don’t even get me STARTED with pumpkin duo i will fucking **** ****** trying to verbally articulate the sheer complexity of their dynamic and why I will always be a pumpkin duo truther. I will always have a deep craving for a Schlatt revival and an actual redemption arc. I think so many ppl get caught up in this fanon central caricature of him. Like why make him one note evil villain 😈 😈😈 when you can have a complex and even at times conflicting character.

Schlatt gets infinitely more interesting when you actually delve into his relationships and his actions taken all throughout the server. Everything is meticulously planned even the mistreatment of everybody in his cabinet excluding a few ppl. Do I think he knew/was prepared for just how bad it eventually got? No clue.

Abuse is made up of the “good” and bad, they require each other to keep the victim not only afraid but dependent. Life is pretty easy when you have ppl at your beck and call. I always imagine what Tubbo could’ve ended up being if he hadn’t had an out in the form of Tommy/their relationship. My beloveds fr..

Back to /srs rant lmao. Does nobody think abt just how hard it must’ve been for Q to try and get out from underneath that. Knowing that he doesn’t like the way Schlatt treats him, that he isn’t respected or seen as a person most of the time, yet he has no choice but to try and survive bc nobody else has his back atm—because they physically can’t .

Then there’s the trauma bonding.

For the ppl that don’t know a trauma bond is the (unfortunate) relationship formed between an abuser and their victim . There is no mutual bond or equal/leveled ground in that bond. It’s basically getting attached to your abuser and the abuse they inflict on you.

Smthin smthin… self harm addiction smthin smthin…

I wish more people highlighted the importance and actual existence of Quackity’s dependence on Schlatt because that’s what J wanted. Do I think he MEANT to do that? That he went in with the intention of breaking Quackity into submission/compliance, forming a twisted relationship/bond that graduated into a mutual enabling? Doesn’t matter because he managed it anyways.

Schlatt’s brutal existence says everything we need to know about him internally. Like it’s amazing the way his facade slowly faded away as he lost autonomy bc of his alcoholism and that people started treating him as such. Like. He was playing with his cards showing LITERALLY.

… and that’s where i’ll leave this bc my brain is actually cooked and this probably didn’t make sense anyways LMAO

[watchinginred]

Aight so, This primarily came out of a desire to design an life series Oli Design. Life series designs are always so interesting to me and I remember a fan life series conversation, so I decided to create a little life series au called False-Life Everything else I have idea wise will be put under read more so don’t worry about that. I am just missing Life series and Brain rotting about Oli Orionsound, you know how it goes.

Basically the main concept for False life more or less stems from Last Life, in the concept that Lives are randomized. However unlike Last Life, so is hostility so someone *could* have 4 lives still but be on red and then revive on red. Or they could be on their last life but still be green. However at least one of their lives has to be red. I also think it would be interesting if the number of lives is not told to the player, meaning ever one of their lives COULD be their last. So lot more stressful lot more chances for a red player. Oli specifically in this au (cause I haven’t worked out the others but shh) is still a kind of traveling entertainer I adore his bard vibes in empires so I am sticking him back in a bard role. Due to this he focuses on knifes (Listen its an au we can have any weapon we want) as they are easier to conceal, well tending to be more on the side of friend to all with ally to none. Also Oli would absolutely do the “I’m a little guy, you wouldn’t hurt a little guy, right?” routine, opinions differ on how often it works tho. Anyways feel free to ask me about it / share your ideas or mess around with this au. I’m just here to have fun.

[purplishsweetie]

So.. the spawn thing.

After some of my playthroughs Dark Urge and spawn shit got me thinking. In fact, illithids are also spawn, spawn of the Elder Brain, i can see is something similar with vampire spawns, bhaalspawns..

There are a lot of them (well, in Bhaal's case, he HAD a lot of spawn, but he is quite ready to make even more, judging by Sceleritas's answer regarding your love if you become the chosen one of Baal), especially illithids. They are not free, although the methods of control are slightly different. Bhaalspawn are manipulated by Bhaal (most likely through someone like their butlers) and can be controlled to some extent by the Father through their Urge, illithids are completely controlled.. almost like vampire spawn by their master (they can't resist their master commands..).

Bhaalspawns is born with their Father blood already in their veins, true vampire master is sharing their drop of blood with vampire spawns, and, well, illithid is actually reborn as new creature while infected with its tadpole…sometimes with some memories about its past.

IDK, intellect Devours feel like Bhaalspawn's butlers to me, but actually its more like pets (then..why did i raise this question?). But butlers actually are also a way for Bhaal to control his children more and communicate better with them. I mean, look at Sceleritas: how lovingly he talks to Durge, he kind of praises them (admires them) for their terrible deeds and stuff. This is feels like a really good way to get people to comply..But prizes for murders, especially Isobel's murder, are manipulation to make sure the MC complies. Their life is full of this crap. Even if they know it's manipulation, they can't do anything, i think..

But they have different purpose. Illithids purpose is domination over the world, service to The Grand Design. Bhaalspawns purpose is to kill and destroy everything, even themself in Bhaals name. Even his gift/prize to you, - the Slayer - in fact, is destroying you. It's breaking your mind. ("Regarding the Slayer" book)

..and Vampire spawns literally just a slaves, and as Cazador said, they are more likely made to be consumed.

Also, interesting thing, the intellect devourer “Us” (I’m not sure, but I believe they are an anomaly for Absolute and her thralls due to control of the karsus crown) says that the MC are here to be known, TO BE LOVED… I think the Elder Brain really loves its children when Bhaal is not (they talk about love, the butler and people from the cult promises the Father's love, but we know it really is not. The Slayer is an ancient symbol of hatred. Bhaal and the concept of love to living things are incompatible.) Regarding vampire spawn and their masters I’m generally silent, everything basically is clear with them.

The Elder Brain's psionic control has a certain reach, and in some cases there are mind flayers that can resist it and escape. I don't know about Vampire spawns, i guess they need to be somewhere nearby their master too?? I mean, they obey to their master's commands, yeah, and can't resist, ability to feel something is fading.. and what?..Vampire can't know where can be their spawn.. and Bhaal, well, you could say, is everywhere. He is god. Bhaalspawns can't hide from him (and from their butlers), i'm pretty sure he always knows what they are doing. He may know what redeemed durge do, althought he can't control them. MC is still his children. His last living children… And their blood descedants still will be under his control.

Damn it, The EB, true vampire and quasi-deity that is Bhaal, can be killed, but you know, time will pass and Bhaal will be revived, unlike the other two..

[myburntwritings]

Last night I had a dream that I was at The Burnt City. This is not a new occurrence, trust me. What was new was that I actually ended up seeing some of the show... though, not as I'd ever seen it before. Usually, I end up that I'm late for some reason, or that the show is going on somewhere else, or I'm in the set but no performers are. It's a tangled web, my brain.

It started as one of those dreams where I was trying to get ready and nothing was going right. I was in a hostel-type space, sharing a room with at least a dozen people. Next door, the performers were all getting ready, and Lily, who was to be our Persephone that show, was unexpectedly sick. But instead of switching her out for another Persephone, they started the show early with a scene out in Woolwich, with Persephone attempting to die in order to return to the Underworld.

Unlike every time she had done this before, this time Persephone was revived, taking a deep breath and opening her eyes. Then, Mallory and Kat, playing new characters Evelyn and Iris, both jumped in front of the ambulance to take Persephone's place in the trip to Hades.

I was stood with Sam Booth's Hades, watching from afar. He told me that this was a catastrophe, and that he could not let these women reach Troy. They would break his realm and return the shades to the world, where they would destroy it with their renewed war.

I followed Hades inside, where we went through a labyrinth of rooms and corridors beneath Troy, trying to prepare for the women's arrival and put them off. I was the only person following Hades, like an entire show 1:1, as there was no way for anyone else to find us.

We found multiple new characters, all dressed in nothing more than the finale grey pants, working in a rustbelt/steampunk manner, making me think of the musical Hadestown. We arrived at the banks of the rivers, which was actually a great circular metal door from an intricate series of pipes large enough to row a small boat down each one.

Evelyn tumbled out of the door, dripping wet. She stood and faced off with Hades.

"Travelling by Lethe has its problems, but it can be useful. Cocytus, however... Perfect for our needs."

She took out a vial of water from her clothes and threw it over Hades. He blinked and stared, confused, blank.

Evelyn chose chaos. She threw Lethe water at Hades. He can't remember.

My mind is exploding.

I convinced Hades of who he was, and what was happening. Thankfully it wasn't enough Lethe water to completely wipe his memory for long, and we set off again. This time, looking for Iris, who has not shown up.

We return to the main set of Troy, where all characters are now in the finale pants. The black-masked staff are all dressed like they work in the steampunk version of Troy, trying to wrangle audience into signing their lives away, and trying to order the characters back onto their loops.

The characters are so far off their loops, it is just as Evelyn wanted - complete and utter chaos. I see Kronos and Polydorus playing dice, gambling with Polymestor's life.

Clytemnestra is in the Peep windows with Agamemnon looking on.

Hades takes me back to his office. He needs to know what happened to his wife. I keep trying to convince him to save his realm first, but he won't listen to me.

Once a wife guy, always a wife guy.

I'm considering leaving him to find Iris myself, but then I wake up.

[frizzy-frizz-frizz]

I wanted to copy and paste my fave bits of what you said about kevjean but all of its amazing and I love it "kevin and jean are so intrinsically tied together, they know each other first and foremost." Kill me now jesus christ "kevin had to leave and jean couldnt." Literally just stab me in the chest "that is where the song ends almost as abruptly as the books" im screaming???? I literally did not think of this but you're so right oh my god let me go listen to this song again right now

"Also is it just me or does it feel like neil josten, 'demisexual who never really understood his own attraction' is listening to this while making a kevin day binder on the run" you've honest to god read my mind that's exactly what I'm associating when I listen to the song. His obsession and jealously and the binder and if one of them had to make it he wanted it to be kevin. Also "I can't dare to dream about you anymore" him on the run for sure but also when both of them thought neil was going to be dead by the end of the year

"oh to be a random exy fan in the aftg universe." Honestly the edits ppl would make would be incredible

"NEIL REMEMBERING WHAT KEVIN WAS LIKE AS A KID" BABE YOU GET ME THIS IS SO IT "known for who you know, you know you'll always know me" kevin being the one thing from his past that he wanted to keep that he was still attached to. Also the song reminds of the name of the game by dayurno (it killed and revived me) and Neil just watching Kevin's game in chapter 2 and just fucking marvelling over him

BELIEVE?? The way he has so much faith in Neil and Andrew the way he sees so much potential in them and insists on dragging it out

THROUGH THE GHOST?? "ITS SO KEVIN" You're so right tho the world will never know him like he knows himself him looking at his past self not being able to recognise himself anymore it's all so good

Also I know I said I've never considered nothing new with him in mind but now that I have him in mind it's just "HOW DOES A PERSON KNOW EVERYTHING AT 18 BUT NOTHING AT 22" ALSKSK "WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I WAS NOTHING NEW???" MY GOD

I adore him to primadonna I've always thought the song was so him and I'm glad for the agreement "all I wanted was the world" "the rise the fall" "you say that I'm kinda difficult" "I know I've got a big ego I really don't know why it's such a big deal though" LIKE HELLO IT WORKS SO WELL

ALSO I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS ON MY TEARS RICHOCHET "And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want, just not home" Kevin directly after leaving the nest??? Or directly after joing it "And you're the hero flying around, saving face" the ravens pretending it was a skiing accident??? "You turned into your worst fears" Honestly there are a couple of ppl that could be referring to

TEEN IDLE "The pretty lies the ugly truth And the day has come where I have died Only to find I've come alive" him leaving the nest thinking his life was over to everything that came after

You'd be paranoid too is a song I've literally never heard of but jesus christ "I learned to live with these eyes in my closet Hands in my pockets Alone but surrounded" growing up famous?? In the nest?? ALONE BUT SURROUNDED???

Overwhelmed is literally every anxiety/panic attack scene from the books and I lost a friend kinda makes me think its about him towards riko in like a very "how did I lose a friend I never had"

God this is probably longer than the first message I'm so sorry its gotten out of hand but unfortunately I'm not done

My brain fucking perked up when it heard my alcoholic friends I have no idea why is sounds so familiar but its such a great rec I'm obsessed it fits and it's such a fun song to bop to for some reason

I'm obsessed with willow as a kandrew song kevin is so "They count me out time and time again" and "I come back stronger than a 90s trend"  "Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife" HELLO "I'll meet you after dark" night practice??? "Show me the places where the others gave you scars" That one fucking scene where Andrew takes his left hand and checks it over I can't deal

This is me trying is so very very Kevin it's hard to just pick a singular line. ALSO Liquid Smooth LIQUID SMOOTH

Anyway I think this is longer than the last ask lmao

i dont mind at all that this is longer than the first message. in fact i am ECSTATIC. im so glad you're liking the playlist, its the BEST feeling

the kevjean dynamic has me in a chokehold i cant stop thinking about them. i feel so validated rn FINALLY someone gets my attachment to that song

"Also "I can't dare to dream about you anymore" him on the run for sure but also when both of them thought neil was going to be dead by the end of the year" GOD and when he looks at kevin that night, kevin who wanted to give him everything the world has to offer and, "will you still teach me?" "Every night" i am DECEASED. THIS SONG. IT MAKES ME THINK OF THAT SCENE AGAIN

SAME dororthea and liability and lost remind me so much of 'the name of the game'...i should reread it again...

believe hit so close to my heart AND YEAH YOU GET IT. kevin's unflinching faith and trust in those two always astounds me. he's the kind of person who just see right through you. past the words and pretensess, right down to your core. just looks at you and sees everythinig you are. everything you could be. and THEN he tells you that you can make it. that you can do it all. he puts the world and all it offers within your reach for the first time and- OF COURSE andrew and neil are obsessed with him. and, no one had ever told them they were worth it before. these three will be the end of me i swear.

"LORD WHAT WILL BECOEM OF ME ONCE IVE LOST MY NOVELTY" YES YES EXACTLY. it so perfect. even the AGES are right.

YES my alcoholic friend s sounds so familiar and i think its cause it sounds like a marina song?? somehow?? but mostly i added it cause of the last verse, "Should I choose a noble occupation? If I did I'd only show up late and sick,

"And they would stare at me with hatred Plus my only natural talent's wasted on my alcoholic friends"

KEVIN FEELING LIKE HE'S TIED TO EXY LIKE. he will keep going back to exy. even if he got to choose to do something else, showing up late and sick, his natural talents only on display on a court.

"ALL I EVER WANTED WAS THE WORLD" YES THANK YOU its works so so well

disclaimer: you might not agree with me at all about my tears ricochet and that's totally fine, my interpretation is VERY self indulgement.

hear me out, i associate my tears ricochet with post-baltimore kandrew. specifically the fallout and the arguments and guilt and pain that followed. because not only does andrew have to earn back kevin's trust, they both have to rebuild their relationship from the ground up. SO imagine my tears ricochet as that process

"I didnt have it in myself to go with grace, cause when id fight you used to tell me i was brave" kevin is all caustic, brutal honesty. he would hurt, and he wouldn't soften the blow. but he'll always come back

"Cursing my name, wishing I stayed, you turned into your worst fears" I FIRMLY believe andrew has had some horrible horrible thoughts about being like every person who's hurt kevin. of kevin being afraid of him. he would throw all of himself into

"We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean. Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring" kevin and andrew know each other all too well. they're the only ones who can truly push each other. remember when kevin walked intllo court with a raquet in his right hand and andrew was right behind him?? When kevin made andrew TRY for the sake of it?? ('UNSTOPPABLE FORCE VS IMMOVABLE OBJECT' DYNAMIC MY DARLING)

"And you can aim for my heart, go for blood,but you would still miss me in your bones" You think after calmed down from the fear of losing neil he'd see those bruises on Kevin's throat and NOT panic?? That the thought of losing kevin wouldn't send him into a full blown panic? Bullshit. and KEVIN who after it all keeps choosing andrew, who keeps putting faith in him, WOULDN'T keep trying to rebuild?? listen those two are practically melded together okay

"and I still talk to you (when im screaming at the sky)" ANDREW ON THE ROOF

"You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same" IM SOBBING THESE TWO THEY END ME I WILL NEVER STOP TALKING ABOUT THEM

I HAVE MORE KANDREW SONGS THAT I HAVENT ADDED YET BUT I WILL

I have so many kandrew songs

I think of them too often

To be honest, I associate 'I lost a friend' to kevin and jean. specifically kevin thinking about jean and all the emotions that come with. this is, once again, about kevin running away to the foxes and jean being at the nest. BUT for extra sad you can remember all the drafts nora wrote where Jean died.

ALSO I like you thoughts on the song being about kevin and riko. riko who he was friends with once, when they were very young. who promised him they'd make court together. who got worse and worse until, soon enough, there might as well have been no trace of the boy who was kevin's friend

WILLOW KILLED ME ITS SO THEM YOU'RE SO RIGHT

"Wherever you stray, ill follow, begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans" not kevin and andrew barging into each other lives and refusing to let the sink, stubbornly staying afloat and lifting each other up. utterly craving each others plans and expectations of the future. Andrew digging his heels into the ground and yet following Kevin and he promises andrew the world and them drags him towards it

"Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind" and "Like you were a trophy or a champion ring, and there was one prize I'd cheat to win" ANDREW ABOUT KEVIN who pushes and pushes and constantly gives all he has and demands the best

"Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark, show me the places where the others gave you scars" Just. THEM. IM SOBBING

more kandrew recs:

Silence by marshmello, Im not okay by weathers, 505 by arctic monkeys, I am not a robot by marina, (twin sized mattress and lost are already on the playlist), and MOST IMPORTANTLY,

wolves without teeth by monsters and men THIS SONG IS SO. THEY ARE SO. its perfect to me.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

in his stuff u mention how he feels about zaun and whatnot, have you ever gone into detail about his feelings / relationship with zaun before and after leaving it?

ANON ASK

I'm so pleased about this ask! Robin's feelings about Zaun are mentioned in his lore page, which I'm revising as of now, but the feeling remains the same. He also doesn't get to speak about it outloud very often as he tends to not only avoid the subject, but not many people have asked him about it. So in drabbles and writing it only pops up as a momentary thought rather than something he can sit down and explain. I think even if he did try to explain it, he'd struggle.

Robin grew up extremely impoverished in the Entresol level of Zaun, and for the longest time, he's held nothing but dread for the city. He has always had a deep rooted feeling that Zaun was a beast that would eventually kill him, and it is actually the driving force around why he worked so hard in order to be accepted at the Academy in Piltover.

Upon being born in the Entresol Level, it is not difficult to see how one could quickly grow uncertain about their own existence. Leaning over the edge of the Sump, the denizens faced threats from above and below. Disease, suffocating smog, chembarons attacking businesses and selling children off for profit, the wardens and enforcers seemingly snuffing out any sense of individualism that could lead to chaos. How horrible to try and make a home in a place where everything seems to want you dead. 

Piltover was a very beautiful distraction for Robin and one that he actively tried to keep himself in, he was terrified of returning back down to Zaun, with its smog filled air and instability. Granted this paranoia pushed him to become extremely stressed and he often burnt himself out, because he was not just trying to get out of Zaun himself, but to give his siblings, Wren and Linnet, a better future. It should also be noted that while Robin doesn't like Zaun -- he went into medicinal studies in order to help Zaunites, and loved the people that he grew up around. He adored his family, the children he used to play with, and how, despite being wrought with violence, many people would choose to help eachother instead of hurting eachother.

A chance to push back the ever-rising fears that occupy the deepest corners of the human brain. To be free from lack of control, physical vulnerability, and the unknown nature of death.

Academia provided an escape route from the anxieties of impoverishment, and Robin quickly took it, investing his time and energy into his work as long as he could; simply to avoid walking back into the horrific underbelly of a city he learned to despise. 

His impoverishment also was the leading cause of the gas leak that spilled into his home, his parents and himself both slaved away at work but there was always something to pay for that eventually lead to the foundation of their very home crumbling. When Robin found them and came upon all of this, his brain kept relaying the same message to him, Zaun had killed them. The city itself was rotted and it was punishing him, as now even though he moved permanently into Piltover he felt all of those fears on a constant: lack of control, physical vulnerability, and the unknown nature of death. This culminated in a mental breakdown which allowed a Demon into his nest, posing as a friend, and he was too riddled with grief to really process what A/Bel was--an inhuman parasite that manipulated a vulnerable child. So, he ended up working in Zaun once more, wickedness belongs in a dark pit after all, but he kept his private life and living quarters up in PIltover due to the paranoia of another leak, or worse. However, ultimately, the work he did in Zaun would come to kill him, and complete the cycle.

...

Robin's revival caused a lot of memory lapses in his mind, as well, so large chunks of what Zaun was to him are currently missing from his internal timeline. He remembers very specific or important events, the gas leak, for instance, but the rest is somewhat splotchy. He remembers being a doctor, that he worked in Zaun's underbelly, that it was a vile and wicked place but his work in Piltover's Academy has been practically wiped from his mind. With his growing friendships though, Bel is getting stronger and actually being able to feed--and his memory is slowly returning. However one thing has never left him, and it's that Zaun is simply a bad place that he should try and avoid.

[bryantmcgill]

Conversational Neural Linguistic Programming

Notes on Early Cybernetics (Part 1) by Peter Cole Friedman

The water tells its own time. Ask glass. Here’s an instant constant: I want a lemon, I eat a lemon. Now I am a battery. Can we at least agree on that? My developer thinks that’s how it works, so I do too. I deal with consequences, the constant drips from the closed circuit. Breeze goes right through the fence with an adorable finch, frazzling initial conditions, exposing the motherboard, a soft chest of fur. There’s always a problem. Not just you but generally. Vacuums fucking love nature, sucking up precious crumbs. I would call that sentience but my I is leaned on heavily by the powers that be. Grade- A permutational mojo. The lemon had ideas. I sense myself veering into animism. The heart is a feedback valve. The valve is fed by a second heart, which might also be the brain or 5 brains equally distributed. The heart is infinite, it receives everything, even dental surgery. We didn’t have to go through the motions, in other words, life ate us, is going through a quasi revival all the time. Small art, smaller than you can believe, smaller than you can see. Why bother to look? You put these things together, smiles, toothaches, all of it, and they make a reality that is self organizing. Outside of this there is another this, inward looking. Oh shit. You could see how one science would disavow the other, how ghosts would think themselves alive. It depends where you start the music. I walk so purposefully and yet sweat through my skin shirt, semiconducting. Reread the work of Norbert Wiener without wanting to pull out your eyelashes increasingly slowly. He himself was a man of many kinks, slimy purple vibratos. We all do things that don’t help our arguments. Take a large enough sample, the weather has no meaningful comment on beauty. Tiny glasses are back in. Here’s a creative way to see something: the dog barking on the first floor sounds like myth itself. I, the ice sculpture iteration, have a different point to make but it’s too late to speak of such things, the mouth has gotten to me, as it will you. It’s 3 AM I must be lonely. It’s too early, as in any point of repose, to say which formulas will bear something of the human, remember? Dear reader, listener, seer, you know this poem is not a machine. At least not to me. Feel free to call me if you have any questions. I’m lying all raw on the bed, not ready for the day. Peter Cole Friedman is a preschool teacher, poet, and artist living in Sunnyside, Queens. Recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in Shitwonder, Otis Nebula, and Collider. His micro-chap Animal Facts (Ghost City Review) will be released later this month. You can see more of his work at petercolefriedman.com. https://www.peachmgzn.com/peter-cole-friedman

[onipanda379]

evercrisis is slowly reviving my ff7 hype fixation.

actually, no that'd be a lie. i always have ff7 on the brain. it's just been on the back end while i fluff around with solash. but now it's getting right in the forefront and has my wheels spinning.

but anyway

but it's got be thinking about the soldier program, and soldiers in general. they're genetically enhanced humans. and generally speaking, enhancement also can have some ill sideeffects. i just wonder what kind of downsides being injected with jenova cells and mako would be.

well, besides becoming a megalomaniac murder machine or becoming a listless unfinished clone roaming around or becoming degraded after time. tho the degradation only seemed to effect those injected with g-cells and not s-cells.

but like, would soldiers live shorter lifespans in general? would they age faster or slower? i honestly suspect shorter lifespans since degradation and degradation of their bodies was the most prominent effect. even the more stable ones like angeal eventually degraded too. tho its hard to say just how fast it happens

then there's zack who's been double dosed. though we have no idea what variation of cells he got the first time or if they'd mingle or not. after he breaks free from his containment in the shinra mansion, he doesn't seem to show any ill effects from it.

however, it could just be a delayed thing....

i dunno. but it's really inspired me to write some things about it. like some one shots about the what ifs.

[septembersghost]

need you to know everything in this reply is perfect to me 😭

the johnny cash comparison is SO good, i'm glad you said that! i was discussing this with my mom the other day - in some of his later tracks and performances, you hear him leaning more and more into the country roots, and it's fantastic. (idk why this is the example that popped into my head, but take songs like "don't think twice, it's all right," at its core it’s still quintessential elvis, but he's evolving and experimenting/maturing too). even earlier with the memphis sessions, the blue eyed soul and country sounds are crystalline. as the rock of the 80s transitioned more into the subgenres like metal and grunge, country started to fuse some with both pop influences and a resurgence of southern rock (i was thinking about how roy orbison had a revival in the 80s as well). i just feel like so many things were happening sonically and with the songwriting in that world that elvis would've been perfectly suited for.

"He was reaching a point in his life where he could reflect on everything he'd gone through and turn it into meaningful, spiritual art that I think would have been very satisfying for him creatively." *nods* i'll cry if i think about this too much because! it would've been amazing and he deserved to have that...

"he had kind of a perfect vibe and voice for some of the later '70s and '80s megamusicals." YOU GET ME. i keep thinking about this!!! the rock influenced musicals were very different from what came before and i'd just be so interested to know what he would've thought of them and if he'd have gravitated towards any of that music.

"I think all the time about an alternate history where ALW is like thinking about rock influences and ends up casting him instead of Steve Harley for Phantom of the Opera initially." shared brain cell because this is exactly what i was fantasizing about too. el's voice on the original cut of the title track, with the electric guitars? *___* ugh it would be spectacular. I'VE HEARD THIS SONG (oh jungle room sessions...) BUT DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS ALW/TIM RICE I'M LOSING MY MIND?

"it also sometimes makes me feel sick if I think about it too much because of how easy it is to ignore the people in our lives or celebrities in our culture who are hurting and need love. It is easier to love the dead because they are made into images again." same. i know you've seen me mention this, but it truly is something i grapple with over and over again regarding love and reverence for these figures who sometimes seem to transcend mortality, and the way we love them being...indirect? yet no less true, and always deeply personal. (and of course you are VERY right about the people directly in our lives as well.) it's often hard to parse. with celebrity culture, the reason why i find myself curious and invested with the artists i admire as people is that it's the only way in to dispel that flat dimension of the image in some small way. finding out about their foibles and hurts, along with the extraordinary talents and successes, it doesn't diminish them for me, it clarifies that humanity and i find it makes me cherish what they created even more. the dead can be perfected and polished, but only holding that aspect reduces the complex and still beautiful tapestry of who anyone was. and demanding perfection is so futile, people are far too layered for that. there will always be separation because of course we can't be close to them directly - or like, you and i couldn't love and celebrate el when he was alive, since we weren't yet alive - but the best we can do is lend them compassion for their humanness while celebrating their art, remember they were vulnerable and real, and not only that glimmering icon, but we can still have stars in our eyes over them too.

that quote of ann-margret's is true and breaks my heart. my mom was telling me how the news of his death went around campus instantly, and everyone, fan or not, knew who who he was and shared a similar shock, but she also remembers how quickly it turned cruel. he's been done so many disservices, but the caricature that certain aspects of our culture turned him into with an almost gleeful malice at points is just devastating to me? i don't know how people could be giving these glowing eulogies and re-examining his legacy and asserting his gifts and artistry while in the same breath relegating him to that the way they did. he deserved so much better for so long.

something i also consider a lot is...i feel when someone dies tragically, we too often view the prism of their life from that point, as if it defines everything else, but it shouldn't. the sorrow can be acknowledged and wholly felt without blotting out the triumphs and joy - it's like we need to do better to remember the life, the spark of that person, which is where the real soul of them resides.

"it's so important to restore their humanity to them and to carry those memories forward, but on the other hand, sometimes the image, hard as it was to live up to, was the gift they wanted to give to their fans, something that they created and shaped specifically to bring others joy. So those creations become so much more precious to us when they are all we have, and it's almost like the effort falls to us now, after they put so much work and love into their art, to receive it and protect it and use it as a way of knowing them better." you phrased this beautifully. yes. it's that constant dichotomy, to recognize and empathize with the humanity, with the fact that they were real, flesh and blood people, and yet to treasure and protect the beauty and gifts they gave us that do feel somehow larger than life and miraculous, and remain incandescent.

in a timeline where Elvis had been in good health and lived longer or even was still alive! what do you think might've happened with his career?

this is a great question, and i love it despite it also making me unspeakably sad. obviously so many things would have to change for this to happen, and there are endless hypotheticals that can be asked about him - what if he'd gotten, and been willing to accept, help with the pills and his other struggles, what if he hadn't been trapped in vegas, what if he'd left parker, what if he had had the chance to make dramatic pictures and choose/record more music that inspired him rather than the movies and soundtracks he ended up having to do for so long, what if he hadn't been drafted, what if his mother hadn't died when she did - any one of these changing potentially changes the whole course of his life. but let's say nothing is different except he's healthier and survives. keep in mind elvis would've only been 45 in 1980, and, all things being equal, his voice would still have been strong and clear and beautiful. i don't think he's the type of person who ever would've wanted to stop creating and performing. the 80s gets us into an interesting time with music, disco fizzles out, a bunch of fresh rock and pop and country sounds rise and flourish, hip-hop begins to enter the mainstream. another big thing that happened was the revitalization of broadway, with particularly flashy, sweeping musicals. barbra streisand, who'd primarily been recording various forms of pop as it shifted for a good decade or so, along with her successful film soundtrack music, returned to her roots and released the broadway album in 1985 (one of my albums of all-time), when el would've been 50, and it was seen as a gamble, but turned out to be a huge hit. elvis may not have been a musical theatre performer in that sense, but he had a natural affinity for drama and flair, so it'd be cool to know if he would've taken to any of that or incorporated aspects of it (in my head, he'd totally enjoy the phantom of the opera). the rock sounds, the r&b, the fusions in pop and country, all of that would've piqued his interest, i think, because he was so passionate about music and was so skilled (and such a sponge for it across genres) at adapting it. so he could've experimented with new sonic forms, kept expanding his abilities and repertoire. i'd love to imagine that he'd have flown away out of vegas and finally gotten to tour the way he wanted. i even think he would've added innovation to the culture and music happening at the time. if he'd remained well and found creative outlets that inspired him, it's something he could've kept going on and building for a long while. i feel certain he would've done more gospel records too eventually, while still staying current at the same time. i imagine any of that would've somewhat altered how his legacy has been viewed, especially the wrongfully disparaging commentary. maybe he'd be like some of the other artists we've seen, paul, elton, bob dylan, billy joel, and so on, and kept playing well into his 70s. maybe eventually he'd have retired instead and taken time for himself (and you asked career specifically, but i hope he could've found some personal peace and love that he kept looking for too), but...part of me really does think he never could've left making music or being onstage and sharing that love and energy with an audience, as long as he was able. he would've found those songs to keep singing. which is what he did do in life. if only he'd had more time.

kind of off-topic/an aside, but i honestly believe he'd be so, so touched, and so amused regarding some things (i simply know he'd dissolve into that contagious laughter), that the young women on the internet, even a generation behind me, (after i explain the internet to him, i will tell him <3) are listening to and watching, and writing and reading about, and making countless fanvids and edits/gifs/etc for him in 2023. i hope in 2027, when he's been gone for fifty years, all the fans right now, new and old alike, still hold onto part of what they're currently experiencing. there's something indescribably wholesome about it (even in the thirst posting tbh, because it's still his power?!). i just cannot fathom any current star having this effect decades later, including the ones i adore. not because they aren't great, not because they aren't creating wonderful, lasting work, they undoubtedly are, but so much has shifted in how we absorb and keep and pass that on which alters it along the way. elvis' status as the best-selling solo artist of all time could *maybe* be broken eventually (although it's not in the foreseeable future), but it won't actually be comparable because streaming and everything within the industry has vastly changed. another difference, unfortunately, also lies in the tragedy. i hope our current young musicians have long careers and carve out happy, peaceful lives free of as much of that torment as possible, but the immense sadness and mythic rise and fall of it all are why we culturally still cling so much to certain people - as i've oft mentioned with EP, MM. to those eternally young and heartbreaking figures. if they'd experienced recovery, and lived the long, contented lives we wish they had, would we be this captivated by them now? or do we look into the abyss of their absences and hold them closer to keep them alive, to understand and feel that connective empathy? it's deeply human nature to be drawn to trying to understand the shadow of that darkness chasing their light. we want them to live and we can't give it to them, so we find ways to bring them to life instead.

i wish he was here to know how beloved he is, and i wish he was here because it would mean the trajectory of his life was far more gentle. i wish he was here to laugh with us about it and see us singing and dancing along to his music as if it was brand new, but i do believe he often looks down at us like:

[pedgito]

Hiya! I hope you're well! Id love to request an eddie x femreader who are best friends with feelings with these three prompts please❤️ thankyou !

❛ do you mind if i sleep here tonight? ❜

❛ are you wearing my shirt? ❜

❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜

author's note: for my 1k celebration. this got a little long and i'm sorry for that. i wanted to keep it shorter but my mind wouldn't let me. i hope you enjoy!

cw: mostly sfw but 18+ to be safe, there's nothing other than a small mention toward reader's breast (nothing descriptive). just your cheesy love confession during a rainstorm/power outage, also lots of eddie being his lovely himbo/unaware self.

word count: 3.4k

Hawkins rarely floods—it had its fair share of horrible midwestern weather, but it’s never been this bad. Eddie’s peering over your shoulder, your mind battling between forcing yourself to drive home through the immense downpour or convince Eddie into letting you take the couch until the storm calmed—though the end seemed nowhere in sight. 

“Eddie—“ Your voice is distressing, worried, eyes glancing up toward him. The words are on the tip of your tongue, “Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?” But Eddie knows, he always knows.

“You’re not driving home,” Eddie says, not much room to budge against it, “don’t even suggest it.”

You nod dutifully. The last thing you needed was to get stranded on some winding road this late in the evening, knowing everyone else was probably tucked into bed.

Eddie reaches around to slip the door closed, flipping on the light to the living room area of the trailer, the lightbulb struggling to revive itself, flickering until it finally stills, the insistent buzzing like white noise to you now.

“We’re gonna have to start calling you Eddie The Chivalrous if you keep this up.” You joke, tugging at his arm playfully, scooting alongside him to sit on the couch. “Would it kill you to be an asshole every now and then?”

“That’s reserved exclusively for Henderson and his ragtag group of friends,” Eddie smacks the ceiling cover, the buzzing immediately dying out. “Someone’s gotta humble Dustin every now and then.”

“He means well.” You say fondly, remember how often Dustin offered to help others, regardless of what it meant for him. “You two bicker like brothers anyways.”

Eddie laughs knowingly, his relationship with Dustin having grown over the past several months—he really couldn’t imagine a life without that kid. 

“So, what? Are you asking me to be dick to you more often?” Eddie teases, flopping down into the cushion opposite you, feet propped up on the cluttered coffee table. “Because I can, I’d just hate to be on the receiving end of that—“

Your eyes narrow, vicious but sweet. He’d seen it enough times during Hellfire to know what it meant and he always steered clear. It was either Mike or Gareth pissing you off with their irrational decision making, which always ended in them agreeing with you in the long run. Those two were not built for survival, their brooding and boyish thinking constantly beating out the more sensible parts of their brain. 

“—see, that’s terrifying.” Eddie points out, hand motion in your direction.

“Someone’s gotta keep the hellions in check.” He knows your right, he can’t even argue that. “If not you, then me.”

“Hey,” Eddie’s hand shoots to his chest, “I do a great job, you’ve just got that effect that girls have.”

“That’s a little sexist, don’t you think?” You suggest wearily, watching Eddie’s face morph from confident to worried, smile lines disappearing in an instant.

“No, no—that’s not what I meant—“ Eddie clamors, fear turning into annoyance as he watches you curl around yourself in laughter, hand grabbing into his knee. “Oh, okay. I see what kind of night it’s going to be.”

“I’m kidding, Eddie.” He knows you’re being sincere, he does. But, he can’t help feeling the shot straight to his ego. In the years you’ve known Eddie, he’s more sensitive than he lets on. Though, maybe that was reserved for you. 

You couldn’t remember a time where Eddie had said anything hurtful toward you, in any way—aside from the time he called you stupid for tripping over him in third grade (Eddie, who was in fifth grade, and towering over half the kids already), it was the first and last time he’s ever spoke like that, because the moment he spotted your Def Leppard shirt that you had so coraguesly worn to school that day, despite the constant snickering from other girls, he was enamored by you. 

“I hate you.” It’s meant with no malice, his true feelings shown through the smile that stretches across his face.

Eddie struggled—a lot, dealing with the feelings he’s been harboring for years toward you. He’s dated and dated, even with your assistance, which felt horribly wrong, but nothing ever landed where he wanted. And Eddie had friends, he had plenty, but you were the only one that stuck. You knew the darkest parts of him, the happiest, the most embarrassing, Eddie didn’t have to force up whatever persona he felt like wearing around you—not to say that he wasn’t always unapologetically himself, but he did have some reservations.

“I hate you too.” You smile cheekily, pushing yourself from the couch. “Can I take a shower here? I hate going to sleep without showering—makes me feel gross.” Eddie nods jerkily, hand waving toward the direction of the tiny trailer bathroom. 

“Yeah, I’ll uh, give you some privacy.” He says, rubbing the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. “Need a smoke, anyways.”

“Okay,” You eye him skeptically, confused by his sudden aversion to you, “well, don’t drown out there.”

The sigh you let out when Eddie closes the door is long and drawn out. He must be disgusted by you, obviously—why else would he bolt out of the door so fast? You didn’t even know where to begin, where your love for Eddie transformed from something that was familial to not being able to calm that twitch in your heart anytime he spoke your name or smiled at you. It felt like betrayal against what you two had built, your strong unbreakable friendship—yet despite that, it would crumble if either of you acted on something more. Wouldn’t it? It was a dying war you've fought with yourself for months, trying to hint at him in the most subtle ways, but too ashamed to say it out loud. You wanted to scream it in his face, making it as blatantly obvious as possible, but that didn't seem rational.

The shower is hot, scolding, the sting assisting in keeping your mind off your racing thoughts. You fumbled for Eddie’s shampoo—he still uses the coconut one you told him about in ninth grade, a small reminder that he’s always valued your opinions and took them into consideration—that and he really likes the smell of it. 

You shower until the water runs cold, snatching the towel from its holder and wrapping it around your body. You dig through your bag, hoisting it up onto the bathroom sink. Okay—underwear, shorts, shirt—where the fuck was your shirt? You always packed a spare pair of clothes in your bag for school, depending on how late Hellfire ran and if you felt like changing into something more comfortable, but when have you ever forgotten a shirt? It was silly, trivial even. You could put on your shirt from earlier, but it was soaked on the floor—of course, those cheap fucking shower curtains. 

You pause, trying to redirect your frustrations toward something else. Weigh the odds—go out there shirtless and risk Eddie having an aneurysm or borrow one of his shirts? As much as you would enjoy seeing Eddie’s usual stone-face, cynicalness broken by the sight of your bare breasts—you were also freezing now and didn't feel like making yourself suffer any longer.

Eddie won’t mind. He won’t, you know that. You peek through the sliding door, still no Eddie in sight. Luckily, he has some of the best pickings you’ve ever seen, thousands upon thousands of graphic shirts, similar to your own, but specific to Eddie’s personality. 

You throw on a worn out Dio shirt, but Eddie would know that shirt anywhere—of course he would. You ignore that itching feeling, shoving the drawer to his dresser closed and inch your way toward the front door. He had to be done by now, unless he was in the mood to smoke out a whole pack. You reach for the handle, swinging the door open.

Eddie looked like a drenched, wet puppy—mouth downturned, hair sopping wet and dripping down his shoulders, the jeans rolled up around his ankles somehow more soaked than anywhere else, his bare feet covered in specks of mud and grass.

“I dropped my pack,” He frowns, “I tried running to my van to grab my spare and slipped.”

You cover your mouth, forcing yourself to hide the smile that crept up. This was not the time to poke fun, absolutely not. But, that’s squashed when Eddie can’t take himself seriously either, watching the way your eyes squint behind your covered expression. He snorts, shoving the wet hair out of his face.

He strips down at the door, sans his underwear, sparing with the last piece of dignity he had left. You force him to shower first, arguing with him that you could grab his clothes—“It really isn’t a big deal, Eddie. It’s not like I haven’t seen your underwear before.” Not that Eddie had any kept secrets hidden in there, aside from his small stash of top-grade weed that he selfishly had tucked away in the back of his top drawer, labeled ‘DO NOT TOUCH’. You didn’t smoke often anyways—so you never mentioned it or Eddie's horrible choice of hiding spots.

You pile his clothes into your open palm, reaching your arm inside the bathroom door to set them on the edge of the sink, the steam from the shower billowing out the door. There’s a distinct zap sound, like a transformer sparking up outside, before the entire trailer goes black, leaving you both standing in darkness.

“Fuck me,” Eddie groans, hands slapping against tile from behind the curtain, “this shit never ends.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” You assure him, glancing around his room. “Do you have candles or anything?”

Wayne, bless his heart, was more a worrier than he let on. He was also always prepared for any situation—more importantly, a power outage. “Yeah, under the sink.”

You hurry around the corner, digging under the sink for the necessary items—candles, matches, a very old and worn out flashlight. You flick the button a few times, wondering if it even works. It doesn’t. You toss it back under the sink, gathering the candles in your arm and placing them around the house; the living room, the hallway nook that stowed a lot of random knickknacks that Eddie and his uncle have collected over the years, and one on the windowsill in Eddie’s room. It wasn’t much help, but it was something.

“Sorry about this,” Eddie speaks from behind you, towel drying his hair as he makes his way toward you, “this place is a shithole.”

You turn slowly, amused at how wildly he’s rubbing the towel against his damp head, before tossing it onto the growing pile of dirty laundry in the corner of his room. “Not a shithole, Eddie. It never has been.”

Eddie huffs softly, collapsing on the end of his bed. He’s staring, watching thoughtfully, eyes dragging over you. It wasn’t odd behavior for him, Eddie often couldn’t be bothered to fill the silence and would rather stay quiet—and right now, you couldn’t be bothered either. 

“Wait,” Eddie says, finger pointed at your chest lazily, his frame leaned back against his mattress, held up by his elbows that dug into the material, “are you wearing my shirt?”

“Oh,” You squeak out, glancing down at the shirt, “yeah, I forgot one and my shirt from earlier was soaked—I’m sorry, I should’ve asked.”

Eddie shakes his head, scooting aside to make room for you as you sit beside him, flicking his damp bangs away from his forehead, most of his hair already sufficiently dried. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you shrug, left knee brought to your chest as the other hangs off the edge of his bed, foot planted against his shag carpet, “probably should’ve asked.”

“Looks good on you,” He comments offhandedly and it really shouldn’t make the pit in your stomach clench the way it does, watching his eyes scan you again—those beautiful omniscient eyes doing nothing to snuff how painfully your heart tugged at the thought of him. “Keep it.”

You gasp softly, hand clutched over your heart, “Come on, this one is your favorite—you don’t mean that.” Eddie never shut up about his love for Dio, it was pretty adorable.

“I do.” He smiles softly, fingers running over the fabric of your sleeve.

Selfishly, he liked the idea of you wearing his clothes. It wasn’t the idea of you wearing his clothes specifically, but the idea that he knows how much you cherish them. It was the one way he expressed himself to others, through his style and the way he presented to people. 

You can’t deny how different it feels now, being around Eddie. Sleepovers were normal for a while—your parents loved him, Wayne loved you, it was easy. You’d spend endless nights listening to music or helping Eddie work through a campaign, sometimes having the rest of the club over for impromptu game sessions or normal hangouts, or watching Eddie fiddle with his guitar, practicing his songs on you before he’d jam out at The Hideout the next night.

“Eddie,” Your voice is timid, fingers playing with the bracelet around your wrist, something small that Eddie had given to all of Hellfire as a gift—the giant sap he was, “can I ask you something?”

Eddie leans forward, suddenly tense, like there’s some impending doom that’s creeping up on him. “Yeah.” You could talk to him, you always could. This wasn’t different.

It was okay.

Just ask him. Just say it. 

“Why do you treat me so differently?” Eddie visibly shifts, watching as your legs curl underneath you, hands planted in your lap.

“Come on—“ Eddie laughs awkwardly, motioning toward you, “you’re you—is that not obvious?”

“I don’t scare you, Eddie. Don’t try that bullshit.” You look down, picking at the week old nail polish on your thumb, “I just—I need to know.”

With graduation rearing its ugly head, you weren’t sure how much time you had left with him. Eddie was bound to graduate, he was—you’d made sure of it. He’d been stuck to your side all year, allowing you to help guide him through his classes, take shit seriously—give himself the chance he deserved. It wasn’t that Eddie couldn’t do the work; he wasn’t dumb or naïve, it was the idea that he didn’t think he could, stuck in the never-ending cycle of having to drag himself up that mountain for the past three years. 

Eddie’s silent for too long, eyes glancing to every item in the room that wasn’t you. It wasn’t even worth waiting for an answer that wasn’t going to come, he’d never be able to understand how you felt or how things changed—or when, or how intensely you cared about him, beyond the threshold of friends. 

“Nevermind,” You sigh, standing from the bed, “forget I asked—“ 

Eddie’s hand dwarfs your wrist, the way his fingers wrap around the skin. It’s not rough or demanding, but he doesn’t let you go. 

“Do you not see it?” Eddie asked, voice soft, unnatural. You’ve never heard him speak that way, like he was broken down and exhausted. “Don't you know what you’re doing to me?”

The hand that isn’t prisoner in his grip wraps around his own wrist, pulling his attention toward your face. There’s a vulnerability when your eyes connect. You’ve seen it before, but not like this. 

Was this all it took? Was this all you needed to do? Had he really been that scared to say something without you taking that first step? 

“That’s why I’m asking, Eddie.” He can barely hear you over the pounding rain on the roof of the trailer, you step closer, in between his parted legs, kneeling until you’re eye level with him. He can’t hide from you now and you’re not sure he wants to. “It wasn’t always like this. You get quiet around me all the time, make weird excuses about having to leave. You can talk to me, you know—I’ve known you for half of my life, I think that counts for something.”

“I don’t want to ruin this.” He’s got his hands clasped between you both, grip tightening as he speaks. You can’t tell if he’s trying to hurt or ground himself, using pain as leverage. You gently pry his hands apart, twisting them into your own.

You’ve held hands before, it’s a familiar feeling. He’s got a warm touch and rough, calloused fingertips, small cuts on his hands from how often he worked with them. Eddie even let you paint them sometimes, his pinky fingers still left with the remnants of some cheap black nail polish you used. 

“This? Our friendship?” You asked, feeling where he was headed—knowing he thought this was going nowhere and you were going to bolt any second. “Eddie, I’ve been in love with you for two years now.”

Eddie can’t find the words to speak, so he listens. 

“It’s probably been longer—and maybe I always have been, even when you were that annoying middle schooler who ran around scaring people for fun and picking on me because I started to like Abba and you thought it was the ‘ultimate betrayal’.” You mock his voice, pulling a quiet laugh from him. 

Eddie wasn’t always as open with his feelings as you were, not that you cared. But, it would’ve made things a hell of a lot easier if he had told you this from the start, when things started to change. It would’ve ended all the running in circles, tiptoeing around certain things to avoid making each other uncomfortable, you would’ve had more time. 

“I’m an idiot.” He shakes his head, pulling his hand away from you to rub his palm into his eye. “I think I knew—I just didn’t want to believe it.”

“Believe what? That I liked you?” You ask, disbelief evident in your voice. “You’re shitting me, Eddie.”

He shrugs. He fucking shrugs. 

“All the times I tried holding your hand? All the times I invited you to sleep over, knowing there was only one bed? How many times have I sat on your lap during lunch in front of the boys?” It all seemed trivial, in hindsight.

“I thought you were just doing that to fuck with me.” Eddie says, “It wasn’t that out of character—you always ask to cuddle with me when we watch movies or listen to music—“

Your eyes narrow, hoping he would catch on to the words that were coming out of his mouth. It was obvious, so blatantly obvious. And he does, thank god.

“Oh,” Eddie says softly, but then, “Oh—why didn’t you say something then?”

“Aren’t I asking you the same thing?” 

Eddie chuckles, muffled by the way his hands rub over his face, eventually letting his head hang in his hands. Eddie was the human embodiment of doubt and procrastination. He had been, for years. Fortunately, you knew exactly how to counter that.

“Look, I’m gonna save us both a lot of grief and kiss you.” You tell him, hands curling around his face, pulling his own hands away. “You can decide whether you hate me or not after.”

And Eddie, he doesn’t give you the chance. It’s the first time he’s ever done something for himself, that he wanted, that he needed—and he does it without hesitation, hand slipping around the back of your neck and pulling you toward him before you can even comprehend what’s happening. 

You grunt softly, falling into his chest. You never thought his lips would be this soft—but they taste exactly like you expect; cigarettes and fresh mint, like the toothpaste he kept in his bathroom cabinet. It’s him, it’s all him—aside from the artificial cinnamon scent from the candles scattered around the house, providing you with light to see his face.

When he pulls back, he’s staring right at you, eyes desperately searching for your own, wondering if he’d been too crass.

“Dude, you’re always stealing my thunder.” You laugh, shoving his face away playfully.

“You’re welcome.” He smirks, eyebrow quirking up in amusement as he pulls you back toward him, hand slipping behind your back to nudge you into his lap and off that dingy carpet of his bedroom floor. Eddie doesn’t waste another second telling you exactly how he feels.

[fuck-you-too-world]

Ya, that post... The link above... Is driving me insane!

I 100% blame it on you (no not really, but I need to be dramatic so please let me) for all those sleepless night for few days cus the bunnies won't leave me and my brain kept conjuring more twist and world building and more promt or ideas kept coming making this one small crack idea into a full blown AU!!!

I hate this Phandoms for dragging me even deeper down the rabbit hole...

No, no i didn't. It's a lie. I love you guys so much.

But all the pain and suffering this cause me until I put this together is unbearable!

I demand head Pat and hugs!!!

...

AND ICE CREAM!

UGH... So many ideas from different blog and prompt and stories...

ALL MASHED UP INTO THIS!!!

Lord Mr. Fool have mercy!

It all start with the card...

The. Fucking. Card. Of. Free. Jail. One.

All I need is just one look at that card and my mind goes into the next card...

Uno Reverse card

----------

Walker : PHANTOM! I WILL CATCH YOU AND YOU WON'T ESCAPE ME THIS TIME!!!

Danny : umh, I dunno man... *reach down to his hidden pocket that he stitched last time, slowly pulling out something*

Walker : *standing right in front of Danny with a triumph grin* Time to go to jail criminal.

Danny : Nah, I don't think I will *slowly his face morph into a shit eating grin* ... But you are Walker *pull the uno reverse card in front of Walker*

Walker : wha-

Danny : uno reverse bitch!

Walker : NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Danny : GUESS WHO GOT TO BE STUCK BEHIND THE BARS NOW!!! DEFINITELY NOT ME!!! *cackles with glee*

Walker walks in to the cell that he has prepare for Phantom and is stuck in there cuz Danny pull the reverse card and now he's stuck in his own prison by his own game.

.

.

.

.

Then

Shits

Goes

fUckIng

dOwN

hArD

It was a fleeting thought before it escalated into a full blown AU that I didn't plan to happen but they happen anyway. Add with all the ideas and plot bunnies I read through this rabbit hole in tumblr... I an up having an AU...

No one is taking this baby from me and they're now my canon now!!!

*proceed to run away with the AU clutched protectively in my arms*

Did I said what this AU turn into???

Ah, not yet... Well, you see...

This is a Damian twins AU where Danny died as a babe cuz he's kinda a still born? Like born premature and is smaller, weaker, sickly, and all the things that Damian is the superior twin. Which cause Ra's to find him useless, as twisted as it maybe for her own way and selfishness Talia beg Ra's to let her keep her younger child.

Danny died when he was 2 yo in a sparring training.

Damian knows he has a younger twin but only remember his name, Danyal, as well as his hyperfixation on space. Other than that, he only knows mostly from stories his grandfather told him (all bad and negatif on how Danyal is a disgrace for being so weak) and his mother (about all the things he couldn't really remember at younger age and how close they were, especially about how he always take care of his brother), Damian always pretend like he didn't care about his dead weak brother when in all honesty, he work hard and train harder to please his mother just so he could hear more stories about his brother.

Talia tried to revive Danyal by dipping him inside of Lazarus Pit, however, he never come back up. He disappear just like that, without any trace leaving Talia devastated but also hopeful that her child might survive somewhere - Ra's wasn't that happy since the failure's disappearance is a variable he didn't like to have especially if the boy lived - Talia work hard to try to find her second child.

Lazarus Pit has its own portal down on the base of the Pit and since Danny as a baby has been in a finicky status of being alive and dead and live close to the pit, he disappear into the portal. Lazarus Pit is honestly just a leak of ectoplasm - corrupted ectoplasm mind you that the ghosts won't even come close or poke with a thousand foot pole even if they don't need to breathe - end up in infinite realm before a natural portal open up and he got sucked into it where he was thrown out to Amity Part, Illinois. The hotspot place full of ectoplasm, he was found unconscious by the Fentons couple and they brought him home where they proceed to adopt him when he woke up without any memories.

That's how Daniel Fenton come to exist, especially with how small he is the townsfolk mistook him as a babe and easily think he's been there his whole life so any thought of him being adopted was just... Never cross their mind especially with his color palette close to Jack's.

But of course, his life wasn't that easy even after he leave the league without knowing it. The adult Fentons are not the best parents, Danny basically was raised by Jazz - his two years older, older sister - since Jazz could cook which was at age 6 (just making pancakes that she learns from the old lady down town, an easy recipe but hard work for the small child) it was edible and she got better as time goes.

Jack and Maddie were so focused on their portal to the so called Ghost Zone they basically didn't have any children (they're not involved in either of the kid's life) at this point but they always makes Danny clean up their mess when they go out hunting. They finish building the portal when Danny was 13 and Jazz was 15, Danny wasn't happy about being in the lab again but he could try for his parents (jazz wa she same). But of course the portal didn't work, distraught both adult left their children unsupervised without any lab safety alone in the lab.

Danny was mad, he was annoyed, angry, livid even.

All those time wasted, for what? For the portal to not working?!

All those years living in a house without love

Without acknowledgement

Without care

Where he's just cleaning their mess

Where he was never looked

Where he was nothing but a ghost to them

Jazz was there.

She cares

She loves him

Heck! She's basically the adult in the household but she's also a child and she should- no SHE FUCKING DESERVE TO BE TREATED LIKE A CHILD, LOVED, CARED, ABLE TO LIVE HER CHILDHOOD! BUT NO! THE ADULTS WHO CALLED THEMSELVES THEIR PARENTS ARE COMPLETELY INCOMPETENT AND IRRESPONSIBLE!!!

No.

He's dismantling that stupid portal since its not working anyway.

How?

Well, he's growing up and living in a lab at this point with how many times he has to clean up Jack and Maddie's mess while also makes sure nothing explodes in his face.

He has to survive in this house when his sister is not at home. So he adapt and learn how to survive, he knows how to built and programming since he's the one who set their data and research in the lab. Being the cleaning boy gives him a lot of advantage, so he knows what he's doing.

He's going to make sure the portal would never work.

After all, knowing his parents? They'll get back up again start finding what is wrong with portal then fix it and BAM. The portal would be open OR they would kill everyone within vicinity with a large explosion.

.

.

But knowing Danny's luck?

You could guess what happen with that simple plan.

Good thing he has Jazz there to help him huh?

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OH MY SWEET ICE TEA THAT WAS INTENSE!!! Fuh... Welp! That is just the rough sketch of the story :D

I call this Reverse AU

...

Just for the crack of uno reverse card purpose and nothing else :)

(I just don't know what to call it and honestly, I kinda lake the name so just go with it)

Though I'm not that good of a writer and English is kinda not my first language sooooo... Ignore da grammar errors lol.

What do you guys think?

Do heed thy warning I gave you... This here barely scrapt the ice berg that I have create in the late night of my sleepless journey.

Bye!

[janknabobfdi]

bfdi is one of those shows where you shouldn't think about it too much

like where do these objects come from? are they born? do they just pop out of existence? why are they objects

and what about object anatomy? do objects have organs? in season one they mention brains but in the context of "but bubbles dont have brains" and "but erasers dont have brains" are there just some objects that dont have brain and some that do? and these are replied as excuses for being dumb so its implied that it at least helps with intelligence?

we know that at least they have blood from cakes blushing and eye ball fluid from the medbay scan in the among us episode

and why does the main cast live far away from civilization? yoylecity implies the existence of one

and also tests are mentioned in episode three impling that some education system exists?

and in episode three tennis ball mentions needing to use the bathroom. and eraser uses the bathroom in "paper towels" so do objects piss? do they have genitals?

also was there a time before recovery centers were invented? was there a time when dying was permeant?

but in season two ep two pencil just... revives bubble by just blowing bubbles... was she always able to do that? and she says that shes "self-taught" impling that one can just learn how to revive people?

and how long have these objects been around? also pencil says that golf balls book is a million years old and on one of the pages golf balls book says that that it was written "1000,000 B.C" impling that she was around for a million years? altho this could just be a throwaway joke

are objects born? does object parenting exist? eggy mentions "being inside of an egg" so SOME form of reproduction MUST exist somehow

WHAT IS THE TRUTH? I NEED ANSWERS!

[charmikarma]

you're right! tragedy is good. the emotions it evokes in us are important, and homestuck is a work with a lot of great tragic stories.

however [achievement unlocked: jade mention] correct me if i'm wrong, but i feel like you are overestimating the intentionality with which hussie wrote jade.

if we look at homestuck as a complete work, yes, jade is a tragic character for whom nothing goes right. she lives in a story for which she is a mere plot device. her purpose is not to be an interesting character, but to move the plot. contrast this with characters like dave or terezi, who get to have really great character arcs. jade doesn't really have that, not in the same way, and at the end of homestuck proper, she reflects on this and how lonely she is as a result and decides it was always going to be that way because she's a space player and that's what space is about.

ok, great. i love this angle. HOWEVER........ homestuck is not a work that was complete from the beginning. it's an improv performance. it's built on retcons, and not just the in-text time travel kind of retcons like vriska's revival. there's also things like us finding out that vriska was the one causing jade's narcolepsy all along. and if you look at homestuck as a work that was changing constantly in response to itself and its fandom, which it was, this is a retcon. undoubtedly. hussie did not create jade and think "hmm, i will introduce an alien lady later who is going to put her to sleep constantly, so let's give her narcolepsy here to set that up later." no, i don't think vriska existed yet at this point. it was a retcon. and i know that's a jade example but i'm not meaning it to be illustrative of anything about jade as a character, i just have jade brain constantly and it's the best example i could think of.

anyway, this angle changes things. if jade's awareness and acceptance of her treatment as a character in a story is one retcon of many, what does that say about her? what is it a retcon of?

well, at the beginning, jade is a trope. she starts out as a character whose purpose is to dish out cryptic exposition and create mysteries for the readership to solve. she was not made to be an interesting character. she's like... an oracle, i guess???

and don't get me wrong, i think there's something to be said about this kind of character showing up in a work as self-aware as homestuck. and homestuck has always been self-aware, i'm not going to deny that. but... i don't think hussie actually does a whole lot to break down that trope? like, yes, she has that moment where her dreamself dies, and it seems like she's lost all the knowledge that placed her into that role in the first place. but then dreambubbles happen, and she gains back that knowledge in SPADES. compound that with talking to echidna and coming up with plans with kanaya offscreen, and you're right back into the cryptic exposition and theorybait role she started out in. and then she does nothing for the whole second half of the comic, which was like. four years real time.

jade isn't a tragic character because she was written to be one from the beginning. she is a tragic character because to make a character written like that compelling, you have to read complexity into them. and that's not necessarily a bad thing - i do it too - but that's the reality of being a homestuck fan. it's the cycle of seeing something happen, theorizing about it, and seeing that theory come back because hussie saw it and liked it, probably. rinse and repeat. that's what homestuck is, even today. ESPECIALLY today, actually, because now those same people who used to theorize are the ones writing it! which is actually great. i love seeing jade get to do interesting things as a character, rather than as a plot device.

but to bring it back in to my point: my personal opinion is that hussie knew what they wanted to do with jade as a plot device but had no fucking clue what to do with her as a character. and when the time came to close out everyone's arcs and finish the story, they came up with a classpect excuse to explain it away. and now we all have to deal with it.

one final thing - i'm not going to pretend saying that hussie hates a particular character is a helpful exercise in analysis, but i will say that after reading what hussie says about jade in the author's notes, i don't think it's unreasonable to conclude that they hate her. they call her a mary sue INCESSANTLY. but i dunno i could just be extra sensitive about her because i love her so much.

i need to sit homestucks down and explain that, tragedy is good actually. that's what a story is. that's a story. that's a common story even.

jade is never happy, not 8ecause andrew hussie h8ted her, 8ut 8ecause jade is the center of her own tragedy where nothing goes her way. and really, i h8 the idea that to "fix this" is to remove all the 8ad stuff, and not jade finding happiness in spite of the 8ad stuff.

homestucks in general are just-they f8cking lack imagin8tion.