#i’m emotionally devastated and relieved

[seriowan]

“You’re our kid, Omega. You always will be.”

it began with hunter and omega, and now it ends with them

[gabessquishytum]

So there’s this manhwa called Match Made in Bed (no happy ending for the main couple I’m afraid but the premise is very dreamling-coded) where basically this woman is recently dumped because of how stiff she is during sex so her friends decide to hire some hosts to cheer her up. Among the hosts is this one guy who’s actually a swim instructor doing a favor for his friend but he’s actually really reserved and haughty (sound familiar?) and kind of looks down on the whole practice of escorting. Eventually the woman gets hammered and he ends up taking her to a hotel room where she entices him into sleeping with her to prove she can be a good lay and surprise surprise, their sexual compatibility is off the charts and they have sex nine times. But afterwards they don’t know how to move forward because she can’t imagine dating a host (even tho he’s not) and he can’t stand rich women who go around flaunting their money and hiring escorts (she was lying about her job as a stewardess too). But at the same time, they can’t keep their hands off each other. And so, shenanigans and misunderstandings ensue. I can totally imagine Hob and Dream in this scenario where they keep saying tonight will be the last night but then in a turn of events they keep running into each other like it’s fate, like Hob unknowingly signing up for Dream’s swim class, and who can resist a good fuck? Hob has literally never met someone who can make him cum so many times before and Dream has never had so many wet dreams. And it’s good for both of them. They’re both getting better sleep and relieving so much stress. I imagine eventually one of them will get their act together and come clean about their true job so they can finally be happy and fuck without anything holding them back.

I am now extremely obsessed with the concept of host!Dream. Or how about, Desire is actually the host, but for some reason they've persuaded Dream to fill in for them! Probably so they can have a vacation, lol. Anyway: host!Dream.

Hob is super intimidated by the gorgeous hosts that Jo organised for him, and he ends up drinking waaayy too much. He's pretty sure that the gorgeous guy with the blue eyes is actually disgusted by him (Dream is just struggling to keep smiling for hours and hours 😭) and it makes Hob feel so discouraged. When the pretty guy escorts him to the hotel room, Hob doesn't even mean to seduce him - he literally stumbled and fell into Dream’s arms. The kiss that followed just felt natural. And after that... Well. Hob usually hates drunk sex but with Dream, he feels... incredible. He doesn't even feel intoxicated. He just feels like he's floating, encased in a shroud of total pleasure.

Dream doesn't even know why he slept with the sad drunk guy, but. Even he has to admit that it was amazing. Hob might be awkward and dumb, but his body is everything Dream has ever wanted. He can hardly believe that it wasn't all just an amazing fantasy, but sure enough he wakes up with Hob the next day. And Dream IMMEDIATELY leaves. He doesn't like rich finance guys (Hob lied about his job, he's actually a teacher) and it's not like this host gig is even HIS job.

Hob wakes up alone, feeling physically amazing but emotionally devastated. Even though he's probably too jealous to handle dating a host, he can't help wishing that Dream stayed. At least for a morning blow job...

Of course the universe brings them right back together. Hob promised that he would finally learn to swim this year; Dream turns out to be his instructor. They fuck down in the shallow end of the pool after Hob learns to float (who needs to swim when you can cling onto a sexy man while he fucks you?), Dream shows up to pick his nephew up from school and runs in to Hob as he comes out from teaching a class. They don't have time to do anything but make out messily in a supply cupboard, but it's still incredible...

They still refuse to talk about their obvious perfect physical compatability. Hob still believes that Dream isn't really into him. Dream still can't pluck up the courage to actually speak to him. Every other week they end up in some kind of compromising position - Dream has memorised all the little scars on Hob’s body, and he's kissed every single one of them. Hob can't get off by himself anymore, not without Dream inside him.

The only consolation: Desire is back from vacation, soon. If anyone can get the idiots together, they can. But Desire isn't always inclined to be helpful... and they might just make everything worse!

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

I was exactly halfway into my second pregnancy, and up until that point, we were so ecstatic to be expecting again — a baby we’d been praying for. We kept talking about and imagining the joy it would be to bring our new baby home to meet our 2-year-old daughter. But at my 20-week ultrasound, a day that is supposed to be full of excitement and awe, we received devastating news. Our baby, a second daughter, had many severe and insurmountable skeletal and organ issues. Fetal specialists told us that it was extremely unlikely she could survive because all her major organ systems had significant development issues. We were blindsided and heartbroken, and yet somehow clear-minded. We chose to do what we believed was best for our unborn daughter as well as for our family; because that is what you do as parents. And we saw the choice we ultimately made as an act of love for her. We respect and honor that other parents have chosen — and will continue to choose — the only other option our doctor suggested to us — to let the pregnancy take its natural course and provide specialist or palliative care as needed. And that is the point. Individuals and their families — no matter where they happen to live — must be able to make the best choice for them. They need to be free to choose their own act of love. I believe now more than ever that anyone’s reason for seeking an abortion is valid. Who are we to say it isn’t? What we didn’t know when we made our decision was that in addition to being so difficult emotionally, it would be made so much worse by the abortion bans recently enacted in Idaho. Because of these cruel laws, my Idaho doctors could not provide me with an abortion — something they could easily have done before Roe v. Wade was overturned — in my own community supported by family and friends. We had to spend the following days cold-calling countless clinics in nearby states where abortion is still legal, but found out that because of all the other new abortion bans in states across the country, many clinics had closed, most had no open appointments for several weeks, and still others considered my pregnancy, at 20 weeks, too far along for me to receive care. The thought of waiting out this pregnancy, possibly for weeks, or however long, while trying to get through the day working as a chiropractor and still being active and present for our toddler was more than I could handle. All I could think about was whether the daughter I was carrying was already suffering; my anxiety and sadness were overwhelming. We both felt hopeless and heartbroken until we reached a Seattle clinic with a last-minute cancellation. Although relieved, there was so much we had to do to get there in the haze of our grief. There were flights to make, hotels to book, a car to rent and medical care our health insurance would not cover because we were going out of state to access and receive it. One of the most tragic — and degrading — parts of our situation was knowing that people in my home state of Idaho believe this is acceptable, denying me bodily autonomy. We will always be grateful to the clinic and team in Seattle for offering us professional, compassionate care. I am a person of faith and for months after my abortion, I kept telling Brandon there had to be something positive that would come out of this experience. Several months later, I learned that the Center for Reproductive Rights was putting together a challenge to Idaho’s abortion laws, and I knew immediately that moving forward as a plaintiff in the case was something I had to do. I’m proud to be one of the many women and doctors challenging and broadening these laws. Physicians in Idaho must have greater discretion over when abortion exceptions are warranted, and the decision should be the patient’s in consultation with their doctors.

[olympeline]

I was the anon who asked you if you thought usuk or Fruk was more based in canon and I’m obsessed with all the discourse this started. Adding my two sense - sometimes I struggle to separate real history from hetalia canon. It’s almost like I interpret them both as canon. BUT based on both canon and history, I would bet my life on Fruk having at least slept together, if not had a proper love affair at some point in time. I also interpret their more joking/relaxed vibe as them being very comfortable with each other. And fair, they’ve known each other for over 1000 years.

Aww I don’t think it started discourse? Everyone who’s contributed has been chill and respectful 😄

I can definitely see a FrUK love affair as being likely, or them having slept together at least once even if it was just a one night stand to relieve tension. Even in a universe where they don’t ultimately end up together. Their relationship just screams: did they? Oh yeah, they did. And if and when they do realise they’re in love then I agree that they’d never lose their joking/playful vibe. Except when things got really, really bad. Then they’d be there to hold each other and be the other’s rock

Interestingly I can’t say the same for USUK. Not the rock part but the did they/didn’t they question. For them it’s either they never start getting romantic at all, or it goes all the way to true love and together forever. Everything between them is so emotionally wound up that casual sex or even things as tame as kissing just doesn’t feel like it works without endgame. Or without a very dark endgame. Ever since the War for Independence they’re already in too deep. If Arthur got vulnerable and opened himself up to Alfred and Alfred got close but then left again? IDK, I think it’s one of the few things that would just absolutely break Arthur. Like if he were human, that would be it: razor blades in the bathtub time as this scenario’s endgame. Maybe Alfred knows this on some level so he would keep his distance unless he was sure he wanted Arthur back? I think in some ways he’s a lot more emotionally intelligent than he lets on. Or it could be unconscious because he’ll always care for Arthur deeply even if it’s not in a romantic way, so he’d never want to see him devastated like that? At least that’s my interpretation of them anyway

[deceptive-daydreams]

California Dreamin’

Chapter Four - Leaky Faucet (18+ ONLY)

Modern!Eddie AU - In which Eddie travels to California searching for something more out of life.  And then he meets you.  

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3

Warnings: drinking, grief, mentions of deceased parent, dark thoughts, eventual smut, please let me know if I missed any

7K words

Eddie x reader, Friends to lovers, Slow burn

<;- Prev |

Note: oof this one was one where I was really doubting myself and even still am but I’m really just trying to push myself 

Masterlist

Fire slowly burning out, embers glowing in the blackened wood with chatter still alive among friends, the night remains young and full of promise and yet Eddie perches himself on the arm of one of the patio chairs–mask on and his guard up as if his chest didn’t ache with grief.  He is physically present but emotionally he is seven years old again, reliving the agony forced upon him that devastating Fall day just shy of a week from Thanksgiving, 2006.  Drinking is one of the only ways to numb the pain–to ease the sorrow that mistakingly overflowed from him just minutes ago at the dam.  Snatching up a beer from the cooler stationed next to the setup of nearly-gone food, he pops the cap off, rings clinking against the glass and consumes the whole thing in one go and then reaches for another.  It’s not that he wants to drown himself in beer or any liquor for that matter but it gets him to stop thinking, allows him to forget.  Or so he thinks but what does it matter if he doesn’t remember any of it at the time?

Eddie found it hard to admit to himself that he was unhappy, that he was merely surviving and not actually living.  He didn’t even guarantee himself that he would live past eighteen, nineteen at the most but he still wouldn’t acknowledge his misery even enduring those thoughts.  And here he was at twenty four, a full grown adult still just clinging onto his will to live.  He never had intent to act on anything but he did envision that something would happen to him early in life that would relieve him of all the trauma–all the anxiety and turmoil constantly clawing at his shoulders, leaving them constantly tense, muscles clenched in anticipation for the next tragedy.  

Despite the grim thoughts swallowing him endlessly day to day, no one would know how much he ached and how dark his mind got–always smiling, cracking jokes, helping others when he couldn’t help himself, the strong front he put on when the citizens of Hawkins would pick fights with him as if he were their own personal form of entertainment.  The humor he would use to deflect their comments used as his armor, painting him as an unbothered individual in the eyes of the average person when underneath it all was a seven year old boy hurting and yearning to feel his mother’s touch–just one last time if that's all he could have.  To feel loved one last time.

While Wayne did love Eddie as if he were his own, there was something so tender about the way mama would run her fingers through his curls, how she would assure him that everything’s okay when in fact it's not but she was good at making him believe.  The way she would look at him like he put the stars in the sky, her Eddie.  How she would do any and everything for him despite how little they had.  The way she would hold his hand at night and help coax him into a peaceful slumber after a nightmare.  All of it stuck with him every single day and he’d give up everything to be in her arms just one more goddamn time.  

Across the patio from his seat, Jonathan takes notice of the scene, a beer also dangling from his fingers that he’s now sitting on the arm of his chair while discreetly making his way over ensuring that he’s not drawing unwanted attention toward the metalhead devouring beers like they were water.  Concern laces Jonathan’s features as Eddie finishes off his third, chucking the glass bottle into the large trash can.  “Hey man, you good?” he asks carefully.  Eddie’s breath already reeks like a baseball game, eyes heavy and puffy.  “Never better.” he mumbles.  “You’re just downing those kinda fast–”  “--I’m fine.” Eddie smiles, a little too eager.  “Just trying to have a good time.” he goes on, his tone cool and convincing before asking “Do we have anything stronger?”.  Jonathan hesitates, not fully believing that this is just a night of casual drinking for him.  “Um–I guess–I dunno.  Jos might know.”  He’s decided that if Eddie asks Jos for something stronger she’ll step in and stop him since he doesn’t have any kind of authority to tell Eddie to stop, he’d only just met him weeks ago and he’d for sure get told off.  

Within the next half an hour or so you step back out onto the patio from the kitchen after freshening up, still disoriented from the previous interaction with Eddie.  One minute he was sobbing into your shoulder and the next he was closed off, his face lacking any sentiment.  At this point all you can gather is that his mom is a highly sensitive topic and it didn’t seem like a good idea to add salt to the wound by trying to understand it.  Everyone is doing the same as when you left, convening, eating, and drinking, happily engaging with each other.  Even Eddie, as if nothing had just happened.  He’s now merrily talking El’s ear off, although there is a slur in his words, missing some vowels every now and then.  El winces, you can only guess this is due to his breath since she turns her head ever so slightly with her nose scrunched but he doesn’t seem to notice, his gaze fixed on the remaining embers in the fire pit as they flicker.  

Deciding that maybe it isn’t your place to babysit Eddie, especially given his reaction to you earlier, you return to your seat next to Jonathan, throwing back someone’s remaining drink from a nearby cup.  Not usually a smart idea but you felt more than safe around everyone here.  He shifts his posture, stopping his chat with Argyle to turn to you, his face softening.  He’s always been caring and compassionate though you weren’t necessarily super close with him.  It was just in his nature.  “Hey, where’d you go?”  he asks curiously.  “Bathroom.” you answer.  “I had to splash some water on myself, it’s hot out here.” you further explain, fanning yourself with your hand.  It wasn’t a lie, you did make your way to the bathroom on the way back and it was very hot out despite the sun being gone hours ago, the air still dry leaving your skin sticky and sweaty, the baby hairs along your hairline almost glued to your face and your cheeks flushed the same as everyone else on the patio.  “Cool, cool.” he replies almost nervously, his palms gliding along his shorts, most likely to rid them of sweat.  Jonathan was laid back and had a ‘go with the flow’ attitude but he also could be awkward at times.  Conversations usually never got far with you unless they were with Jos, Marlene, or El, your brain shutting down and not able to spark up a new topic on the spot although sometimes it did happen with them and your thoughts just tapped out.  It's why you were the quiet one of the group, your specialty being observing others and reading their body language as they interacted, understanding details others would overlook.

“So–” Jonathan speaks up a little louder, inching forward in his chair and leaning his elbows on his knees.  You tear your eyes away from Will who is attempting to do a little braid in Jocelyn’s dark hair, messing up at the same point each time before starting over.  Jonathan’s eyes are looking into yours, a bit too intense for your liking.  “I have these tickets for the art festival down by the beach next week…did you–did you want to go–with me?” he asks.  Was he asking you to go with him or asking you to go…with him?  The atmosphere gets immensely awkward as you’ve never really hung out with him alone, always in a group so you’re coming to the conclusion that it's the latter.  Not offering an answer immediately, you look around you to buy some time only to see yet again, Eddie in his same spot as before scowling toward Jonathan’s way, more fierce this time than a few hours ago.  Again, Jonathan doesn’t seem to notice, his stare fixed on you, awaiting a response.  Eddie notices that you catch him in the act and relaxes his face, the ground now suddenly more interesting to him.  

“You know what, it’s stupid–” Jonathan begins before you answer him.  “No, no it’s not stupid!  I just–I’m still–are you asking, asking?  Or just ‘as a friend’ asking?” you stumble over your words.  You’d never thought of Jonathan like that before and even though he’s now possibly suggesting it, your feelings still remain the same–platonic.  And even if that were to change, you were just a year out of your previous relationship that lasted a whole seven years.  Seven years that you now felt were down the drain, where you felt you wasted someone else’s time.  It didn’t end in screaming and crying or a detrimental breakup like in the movies but it did take a toll on you since you went from seeing them and spending every day with them to completely no contact due to drifting apart.  You still didn’t feel ready to jump into anything, it was hard to trust anyone and you didn’t date just to date, you craved a connection.  One that you didn’t have with Jonathan.  

“I’m asking.” he clarifies, sucking a breath in.  Not reciprocating his feelings, you look kindly into his honey eyes.  “Jonathan, I’m sorry… I–I can’t–I’m not interested in you like that.  I think you’re really amazing but…” you trail off.  He nods in understanding.  “No, it’s okay.” he assures.  “No weirdness between us now, right?” a small smile graces his face.  you giggle at this, relieved that he seemed to be taking your rejection well.  “No weirdness.” you repeat.  And once again you catch Eddie out of the corner of your eye, glaring.  Did he hate Jonathan?  Did they not get along and you just weren’t around when it happened?  Something wasn’t adding up but then again, a lot of stuff didn’t add up when it came to Eddie despite hanging around him the last several weeks.

—

As the night went on with a few more drinks, you could only hope that Jonathan wouldn’t feel humiliated every time he saw you after he attempted to ask you out.  It’s all you could think about as everyone began piling into Marlene’s car, there being entirely too many people to fit but no one complaining despite the tight squeeze.  You all could’ve taken Eddie’s van to fit everyone however he wasn’t sure where he put his keys before getting wasted.  The fireworks were at their peak so it was prime time to catch as many as possible at the top of the hill that overlooked the neighborhood as well as the city.  “Bro, your ass is in my face!” Argyle shouts, trying to push Will away but not succeeding due to the amount of bodies in the backseat as Will crawled over him.  “There’s not exactly enough room for six people in the backseat of a sedan so pardon my ass!” Will bites back.  No one was worried about getting in trouble for fitting so many people in the car since it was only a short drive up the hill.

Jos is situated in the front seat while Jonathan, Argyle, El with Will on her lap, and yourself fill up the back.  Eddie is about to make the decision to hop into the back and just occupy the trunk right behind the seats when he starts looking green.  “Mm’ jus gon-gonna, scuse m…” he tries to squeeze in between you and El so he can make his way over the seat, the smell of liquor and a tinge of his cologne apparent.  “Dude, I think you’re looking a little pale.” Jos points out.  He shakes his head, wild head of hair bouncing with the movement.  “M’ okay, m’ goooood.” he loses his balance, the top half of his body falling into your lap and his head on Will’s while his lengthy legs hang out of the car.  “Oh–shit.” he mumbles, using his hands to push himself up, momentarily landing on your thigh before he pushes off, running off to one of the bushes in the front yard before spewing the contents of his stomach.  “I knew he was gonna blow!” Argyle blurts out using his hands to gesture dramatically, everyone else twisting their face in disgust.  “He was shootin’ em back like some kind of cowboy.”  

Marlene starts opening her door to attend to him.  “I better go make sure he’s okay, is anyone else sober?  I can stay here while you guys go–”  Before she can finish you’re out of the car along with Jos, rushing to his side as he continues vomiting.  Jos is grabbing his hair and keeping it out of his face while you assist in keeping him from falling over into his own barf.  “We got him, we’ll meet you up there!”  Jos says.  Marlene hesitates before nodding and shutting her door and pulling out of the driveway.  “Fuck.” Eddie whispers, a string of drool hanging from his parted lips.  “You good?” Jos asks, using a scrunchy to secure most of his hair in a quick low bun.  “So good.” sarcasm drips from his tone.  “Let's get you to the garage to sit down.” you suggest, Jos nods in agreement as you both hook an arm around his at each side, walking him toward the house while he stumbles over his feet.  You help him slip off his leather jacket, the sleeve smeared with vomit from when he wiped his mouth.  Grimacing at the smell, you drape the jacket over one of the wooden stools cautiously, making a mental note to clean it off later.  

Eddie flops onto the couch, his arms limply falling with him, head resting back against the cushion, eyes closed while he rips the scrunchy out of his hair and tosses it aside.  Jos tosses him a water, the bottle colliding with his stomach and a grunt leaving his lips as he clutches the bottle in his hand.  “You better drink that whole thing by the time I get back.” she warns with a stern finger.  “Where are you going?” you question, sitting on the coffee table across from him.  Jos points to the door leading into the house.  “Gotta find a barf bucket just in case and some aspirin or something cause I just know he has a rough morning ahead of him.  Freakin’ idiot.” she mutters the last part under her breath as she heads inside, leaving you to watch Eddie.  The way his breathing evens out signifies that he’s fallen asleep, or so you think.  Eyes shooting open and a grin spreading across his face, his heavy lidded gaze reaches your face.  “Peach.” he addresses you in a hushed tone.  “Eddie.” you give him a soft smile back and he swears it's sweeter than honey, could give him cavities if he indulged too much.  “Sry bout’ the barf, s’ nasty s’ hell.” he slurs, clearly still intoxicated.  He wears a pretty pout on his lips, pretty enough to stare at all night if you could.  “That’s okay, it happens to us all every once in a while.” you sympathize, recalling the nights you’d been in the same boat, stomach empty and that foul taste lingering on your tongue while you try to convince your brain the room isn’t actually spinning.  “Jos and I got you though, we’ll get you settled and into bed.”  you promise.  His pout deepens as he sits up slightly, a hand running through his bangs, causing them to stick straight up.  Hiding a chuckle, you grab the water from his hand, he makes no effort to fight you on it as you twist the cap off and hand it back to him.  “You heard Jos.” you remind him, encouraging him to hydrate.  

Gulping down some water to satisfy you and Jocelyn, he then  continues talking.  “Wan know a s-ecret?” he hiccups.  Intrigued, you lean forward with your chin in your hand, resting your elbows atop your knees.  “What’s your secret?”  There’s a mischievous glint behind his eyes, a boyish taunt.  Reaching in between the couch cushions, he pulls out a bottle of Jack he had hidden earlier, presenting it to you as if he’d found treasure.  “Taaaadaaaaa!” He sings as your eyes widen.  While you’re not exactly one hundred percent sober either, you are definitely not at the level he is at right now and know better than to let him have more.  “Eddie, no—” You attempt to snatch the bottle from him but even in his drunken state, he’s quicker than you as he opens it and tilts his head back, chugging the amber whisky as if it doesn’t burn his throat.  You’re able to grab hold of it and snatch it away, the liquid sloshing around, some getting on his shirt while some manages to get on your shorts.  “C’monnnn, thought we’re all gon’ get fucked up nyway.” Eddie whines.  You cap the whisky, open one of the storage cabinets along the wall and slide it onto the shelf for safe keeping.  “I think you’re beyond fucked up, sorry to say.” you tell him.  Where is Jos?  You wonder, you’re not sure you can babysit much longer before he musters up some energy and goes rogue.  At least that’s been your experience with Argyle previously and sometimes even Will.  

With a little more whisky freshly in his system, Eddie is far from sober but he’s at least not running around making it difficult for you like Will would have, he would’ve been trying to climb the roof by now to ‘star gaze’.  Eddie just sits, a dazed and dopey look on his face, his eyes twinkly and glassy.  “Needa call Wayne.” He suddenly sits up searching for his phone, shifting from his left back pocket to his right a few times before finally finding it in his front pocket.  “Wait wait wait.” You urgently grab the phone from him, not wanting him to call someone who he may not otherwise while not intoxicated.  Eddie lets himself fall into the couch cushions in defeat, his face smushed against the fabric as he mumbles through a squished cheek “Needa talk t’ Wayne, need Wayne now.”  He sounds much like a child.  “Gotta talk w’ m’ uncle.”  Now feeling bad since the poor boy  just wants to speak with his uncle, which seems innocent enough, you offer him the phone which he happily grabs, now sitting up again as he calls his uncle.

The dial tone rings a few times before a husky voice answers, Eddie puts it on speaker and rests the phone on his stomach while he lays across the couch, face up with his hands crossed on his chest as if he were in a therapy session.  “Boy, it is the middle of the night, I was sleepin’, this better be good.”  the gruff voice says irritably.  Eddie smirks and lets the silence linger for a moment.  “Ed, quit playin’ around.” Wayne demands.  “Heyyy Wayyyyne.” Eddie responds before going on.  “Wayne, Wayne, m’ here w’ my friend…” he mentions you, saying your name like a giddy teenager.  “We’re jst hangin’ out, hey—I miss you, Wayyyne.” he draws out.  A deep sigh is heard on the other line.  “Kid, I miss you too, but please don’t tell me you just woke me up in the middle of the night because you’re drunk—“  “Wayne—“  “Ed, we talked bout’ this.” he sounds disappointed and you feel like you should excuse yourself but you stay.  “I know—I know.  S’ Fourth of July though.” Eddie counters.  Another silence takes over until Wayne speaks up again, a hesitance in his tone at first.  “Someone…did someone mention your mama?  Or your dad?  That how this happened?” he asks.  Now you really feel like you should leave, beginning to stand up from your spot on top of the coffee table except on your way you feel a hand gently grab your wrist and when you look down you see Eddie looking up at you as he still lays on the couch, he could almost pass as a helpless child with the way he looks up at you, big puppy dog eyes burning into you as he silently begs you to stay.  

You oblige and take your seat on the coffee table again.  It’s quiet for another moment.  “Ed?” Wayne pushes.  You try to avoid eye contact with Eddie but you can’t help it when his are welling up with tears that he’s desperately trying to hold back, hickory colored irises becoming wet and vulnerable.  “Yeah.” he whispers, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Miss her.” is all he says, his voice going hoarse as he works to keep his composure.  You grasp onto the fact that his uncle just knew exactly what happened and why within seconds.  “I know, kid.  Me too.  Can’t keep doin’ this every time though, y’know that.  You’re better n’ that.” Wayne expresses as gently as possible.  “Mmhmm.” Eddie mumbles, now biting his nails.  Jos jogs back into the garage, a mop bucket, a bottle of Tylenol in her hands, and water.  She’s out of breath as she explains.  “Couldn’t find a bucket to save my life, then couldn’t find painkillers either but here they are, I got them.”  her chest is heaving as if she’d gone up several flights of stairs.  “M’ gonna go Wayne, call you morrow’.” Eddie abruptly ends the call as Wayne’s ‘goodnight’ gets cut off.  “Jos!!” He greets as if he hadn’t just been on the brink of tears.

Jos sets the bucket next to the couch and opens the bottle of painkillers, rattling it until one lands in her palm, placing it on the table next to a new water bottle.  Noticing the still half full water bottle nearly tucked into the couch from all of Eddie’s movements, she begins to scold him.  “What did I say?  You need to drink water, dude!” her dark chocolate irises douse him with disappointment, much like a parent reprimanding their child.  Her stare moves over to you with the same intensity.  “And you were supposed to make sure he drank it!” she complains, throwing her arms in the air as if she’s given up.  “Stop that!  Peach din’t do nything.” Eddie’s bottom lip juts out, now sitting upright, his body still slouching into the couch.  “I tried.” you shrug, releasing an exhale while claiming a seat a few feet away from Eddie on the couch this time.  Two exhausted adults sit before Jocelyn, eyebags protruding, and skin with a thin sheen of sweat.  The garage didn’t have any air conditioning to combat it.  

Jos contemplates for a moment, she’s probably the tiniest bit tipsy but still coherent.  “I was going to go meet everyone for fireworks but you guys seem like you’re done.” she explains while grabbing Eddie’s half drinken water bottle, holding it out to him.  Reluctantly he takes it, swallowing some to please his friend.  “I can stay if you’re too tired.” Jos offers, tossing a nearby cotton blanket over his legs, looking to you for an answer.  This night had been a lot compared to previous years–with Eddie’s emotions bouncing around like a ping pong ball and Jonathan attempting to ask you out.  Body feeling sluggish and unwilling to move, you decide you can always catch some fireworks from the front yard if you really wanted to.  “I’ll stay here, watch this one and make sure he doesn’t get into anything else, you go have fun.” you tell her, sinking further into the cushions, cheek resting along the back of the couch.  She gives you a kind closed mouthed smile before ruffling Eddie’s hair, a groan of protest rumbling from his chest.  “Don’t cause any problems for Peach here while I’m gone, okay?”

–

“Go fish.” Eddie lamely states with his cards held haphazardly in one hand, the other twirling one his curls around his fingers.  His cheek is pressed into the back of the couch, lip puckered due to the position.  The two of you have your legs criss crossed as if in kindergarten and a few piles of cards are scattered in between you.  “Damn.” you sigh, grabbing a new card shuffling your acquired deck around.  “What about five.” he hopes, glancing from his cards to you.  “Go fish.” a bored expression rests along your features.  “Game fuckin’ sucks.” he lays his cards on the couch in front of him, signaling to you that he no longer wants to play and you agree by doing the same.  The alcohol seems to be having less of an effect on him, not slurring his words as much and a sleepy appearance taking over his face.  “Tonight fuckin’ sucks.” he adds under his breath.  You can’t help but feel hurt at first, thinking you had something to do with it but quickly remember earlier when the stories about Roxy had caused his emotional turmoil.  

“M’ sorry.” mumbling quietly, you avoid eye contact–unsure of how to comfort him.  A sympathetic glow fills his eyes.  “Not your fault.” he speaks quietly, lips barely moving.  “I lash out.  S’ what I do.  Sorry you had to be around for it.”  he apologizes with a shrug of his shoulders, his stare moving to the ceiling above.  He looks like a mess in the most beautiful way possible.  Fluorescent light from above highlights his red and still puffy eyes, his curls frizzy and out of place due to his hands running through them one too many times, and his pink tinted face from all of the alcohol consumed, all so perfectly imperfect.  A few moments pass until you speak up again.  “I don’t mind.”  Your admission catches him off guard, his head tilting down to lock his gaze with yours.  His expression is puzzled, eyebrows raised in disbelief.  You have no other words to offer, just a gentle upturn of your lips.  

A sudden deafening boom sounds from outside, causing you to jolt forward and cover your ears.  Eddie remains still, his head only turning in the direction of the sound.  A firework being shot off from one of the nearby streets.  Not too long after another bang echos.  Hopping off the couch and making your way out of the garage and into the front yard, you catch a glimpse of a cobalt blue streaking the sky as the explosive dissipates in the air, Eddie not far behind while you both turn your attention upwards.  The driveway suddenly looks inviting, a VIP seat to the show above you as you both wander over and take a place in the dirt not caring that it would cling to your clothes.  

Not another word is spoken, a silent agreement between you that nothing further is necessary.  You didn’t know it yet but you had chipped at the first piece of the ginormous wall Eddie had built around himself.  

—

In the days following the fourth, work had gotten more demanding and you found yourself at home most of the week trying to keep up.  Housework piled up and it just felt useless to even begin a task, exhaustion draining any energy you had after work.  Bills were starting to occupy your mind more and more and on top of it all the kitchen sink just had to give out and drench you as the faucet gushed water.  All you wanted was to wash your hands, not rack up another plumbing bill.  As if on queue, Jos sauntered in, a pile of your mail in hand as she read through the coupons the local businesses sent out monthly.  “Oh!  We have to try this pla—“ she stops, dropping the mail onto the counter and processing that you had just been violated by the sink before breaking out in laughter.  Frowning, you squat down and search desperately under the sink for the knob to turn the water off.  “Not funny, the plumbing in this house sucks.” you murmur into the cabinet of cleaning supplies, struggling to turn the knob, water still creating a fountain on the tile.  “I can’t—turn it—off!” You manage to yank the knob from its place, now leaving you with a broken faucet spewing water across the kitchen and no way to shut it off.  “Shit.” You whisper, letting yourself fall backwards to then sit on the floor in defeat.  

Jos cracks her knuckles dramatically and stretches her arms above her head before cautiously making her way next to you.  “Let me try.” She says in confidence.  You can only roll your eyes, she’s never been that handy as much as she likes to think she is.  Her talents only extended to smacking her palm into whatever household object was broken until it ‘worked’ again.  “Jos—hitting it is NOT gonna work—“  “How do you know?!  I don’t see you offering any other ideas.” She bangs her fist against the pipe, only making you more nervous that you'll then have to worry about a broken pipe in addition to the faucet and the knob.  Plucking the knob out of your grasp, she starts forcefully shoving it in place, metal clanking against metal.  “Stop, you’re going to break it more!” You’re yanking at her arm, attempting to take back the object before more damage can be done.  “Jos, you don’t even know what you’re doing!” You bring your fingers to your temples in aggravation, a groan slipping from your mouth.  

Frustration evident in her tone, Jos turns to glance at you.  “You’re gonna need to find someone who knows what they’re doing.”  At this, a deep sigh flows through your body, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose.  “I know.  That’s why I said ‘stop’.” You enunciate the last word.  “I’ll call Eddie then.” She continues, unbothered as if she didn’t almost break your pipes with her bare hands.  “No, what if he makes it worse like you almost did! “ you protest, face feeling hot.  “Peach, you underestimate our dear Edward.  He’s not just good at fixing cars, he’s good at fixing almost anything.” She explains, jumping up to grab her phone from the counter.  “He’s been fixing shit around the house all summer.  Our dryer finally doesn’t sound like a bunch of dying cats anymore.”  

Your memory flashes back to when you’d walked into Jos’s house one afternoon and Eddie had in fact been cursing at the dryer as he used a screwdriver to pry something off from the back of it, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration.  You figured he didn’t know what he was doing with the way he was using various tools to bang on the dryer

With a huff you nod in agreement as you push yourself to stand from the floor.  Jos dials up Eddie, putting the phone on speaker as the tone echoes throughout the room.  A few rings in and a crackle is heard, as if the phone on the other end was being tossed around before his voice chimes in.  “What’s up?” Eddie asks, commotion in the background most likely from the auto shop.  “So, Peach has a leak.” Jos starts off.  Your face twists at the way she words it, giving her shoulder a small shove.  “Mhmm.” Eddie hums, probably concentrating on a car at work as he listens.  “Could you come take a look at it…like right after work before this kitchen floods?” Jos pleads.  “For you?  Absolutely not—.” He replies, a loud drill sounding over the line.  “Ed, stop fucking around, there’s water everywhere.” Jos explains while gesturing to the mess as if he could see her.  “For Peach?” He continues as if he wasn’t interrupted.  “Anything.” He finishes, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.  Throughout the summer he was always like this with you, flirty but in a friendly kind of way.  He had a different dynamic with everyone.  With Jos he was a playful asshole, Jonathan and Argyle he was boyish and loud, with Will he was very attentive, and with El he was slightly dickish but friendly.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You try to hide your smile but Jos immediately notices.  “Uh huh, just put a bucket or some shit under it til’ I get there.” He replies, you can tell he’s occupied with another task as he talks.  “Okay, I’ll text you the garage code, you can just let yourself in.” You say while scrambling to find something, anything to collect the water in the meantime, opting for a giant punch bowl.  Jos hangs up instantly and raises her brow with her arms crossed.  Hurrying to wipe up the surrounding water with some beat up dish rags, you look at her, annoyed that she isn’t at least helping and just standing there.  “What?”  Your tone is irritated, the rags becoming sopping wet within seconds and Jos still not moving.  She leans against the counter, arms still crossed and brow still raised at you.  You widen your eyes at her as if to scream ‘what the hell are you looking at!?’.  “Are you and Eddie a thing?” She responds curiously, a spark in her eyes.  Scoffing, you scoop the soggy rags up and toss them into the sink.  “Jos if we were a thing I think you’d know.” You sass her.  Her arms raise up in defense, her expression giving away that she doesn’t fully believe you but she’ll let it go.  “Okay, okay.  Just be careful if anything does happen.  You were a wreck with this last one.” She advises.  “The last one was a completely different story.  We were straight out of high school and kept it going for seven years.” You defend.  “It’s not exactly something you come out of bright and happy.” You remind her.

Jos sighs, her shoulders rolling back before continuing.  “I know…I know.  Just—for both of your sakes…please don’t rush yourselves.  If you do end up making a move or god forbid he stops being a pussy and does something.” Her voice is now gentle and you can gather that she’s just trying to look out for you.  “Well, that’s not what’s happening so you don’t need to worry.  Pretty sure he just entertains conversation with me cause I happen to be there.” You sit yourself on the countertop, self depreciation dripping from your words.  Jos joins you and plops herself next to you on the counter.  “Am I not recalling correctly that he’s the one who has everyone calling you Peach?”  She questions searching for eye contact but not finding it as you focus on the refrigerator magnets across the kitchen.  “Did my eyes deceive me this whole summer?  The way you guys are attached like puppies to each other?  How you always end up hanging out in some way or another?”  Her explanations bring clarity but self doubt still overshadows your thought process.  Although so many words run through your mind at the moment, all you can do is shrug.  “Look, I know you have trouble talking about relationship stuff but I am here.  And I would love to see stupid ass Eddie and lil’ Peach together.  Think it could be good for you.” She smiles, poking your side which makes you squirm away from her with a giggle.  Grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze, you thank her.  She’d always been someone to come through for you in your most uncertain times.

—

It was nearing the evening, around six o’clock and Jocelyn had left a few hours ago to catch up on some studying for her business course.  A pot of pasta with tomato sauce sat on the stove while you finished off a bowl at your seat from the stool at the counter.  You’d been emptying the punch bowl continuously filling with water and hadn’t left the kitchen all day.  It was almost tranquil with the trickling water however the fact that your sink was broken and was causing the sound ruined it.  

The sound of the door connected to the garage just off the kitchen startles you, Eddie stepping in with a tool box in hand.  His navy blue coveralls are hanging at his waist, the sleeves tied to keep them in place and he’s wearing a white tank top, his arms on display along with his various tattoos.  Grease covers his hands and there’s a smudge on his cheek from where he’d wiped some sweat away.  His hair is frizzy from being tied back in the shop all day, now flowing freely and wild.  

“Hey, Peach!” He greets with his dimpled smile.  Before you can greet him back he takes notice of the unintentional fountain originating from the faucet.  “Well, that’s fucked.” He expresses with a point of his finger.  “No shit, Eddie.” You look up to the ceiling, fed up with the bullshit that is today.  Stepping carefully around the punch bowl and crouching down in front of the cabinet underneath the sink, he starts looking around for the problem.  “Don’t worry, daddy’s gotcha.” He somewhat sings while picking up the knob that had broken off hours earlier.  “You see the issue is that this fuckin’ thing broke off—“  “Eddie.” You deadpan.  He turns his head around to where you’re patiently sitting at the counter, tapping your fork against the bowl in front of you.  “Tough crowd tonight.  Peach, you usually laugh at my jokes!” He whines while turning back to reattach the knob to its designated spot.  “It’s been a rough day.  Sorry.” You sigh while resting your head on the cool countertop.  “Don’t be sorry, just tell me my jokes are shitty.” He says while hammering the knob back into place.  “Eddie!” You groan, dragging your hands down your face.  “Okay, okay, I’ll leave you alone.” You can hear the smile in his voice.  He grunts while turning the knob and the water finally stops leaking into the kitchen.  “Oh thank god.” You mumble in relief while still covering your face with your hands.  

Eddie stands up to mess with the faucet, jiggling it around before letting a breath out.  “You want the good news or the bad news first?” He asks timidly.  “What do you—why is there good news and bad news?” You whimper out of frustration.  “Good news.  Or bad news.” He reiterates.  Another groan leaves your lips as you answer.  “Bad.”  He spins around to meet your gaze, chocolatey eyes making you feel all gooey inside.  “You’re gonna need a new faucet.” He states, stretching his arm across his chest to relieve some tension in his sore muscles.  You let out a puff of air with a nod.  “But…” he proceeds.  “The good news is that I can go get one tomorrow and have this shit lookin’ brand new.” He grins, sending a small wink your way.  “Eddie you really don’t have to—“  “—We’re gonna skip the whole ‘you don’t have to’, ‘oh but I insist’ spiel and I’m just gonna do it regardless of what you say, kay?” He mimicked your voice and then his in a deeper register as he talked, causing you to laugh.  He was always so unserious and it was refreshing in a world that always demanded business now, fun later.  

“Okay.” You speak softly.  Eddie was hard to say no to, he was like a giant puppy full of energy and you could never tell him no, not to those deep dimples or giant doe eyes, or even the little row of freckles scattered along his nose that came to be over the summer.  

“So how much should I pay you?” You ask innocently.  Setting his toolbox on the counter, he glances over your face, pupils dilating.  “How about…” he starts, resting his elbow on the counter and then his chin in his palm.  “You make me some of that pasta tomorrow and we call it good.” His eyelids are heavy, a lazy smile playing on his lips.  He’s captivating and his stare feels like a warm hug, fresh baked cookies on a chilly fall day, Christmas, even.  “I can do that.” You whisper with a fond expression gracing your face.  

Shifting to stand up from your stool, the metal legs scraping against the tile, you go to set your bowl in the sink to wash at a later time, either when you have the energy to take it to the bathroom sink or when the faucet is fixed tomorrow.  When you turn around to move your attention back to Eddie, he’s closer than you expected, surprising you.  “Sorry.” He says breathily.  Nervous, you avert your eyes to the crack in the tile between you.  “That’s okay.” You mutter.  When you glance back up to him he’s focused on your face, contemplating something silently.  “You—you’ve got a little…” he points to his own lip as you furrow a brow before realizing and going to wipe away any remaining pasta sauce from your mouth.  “No—it’s right—can I?” He asks, grabbing a paper towel from the roll on the counter.  Nodding, you give him permission and he ever so carefully goes to dab the napkin at your bottom lip in the corner.  As if in slow motion, he brings his grease stained hand to gently cradle your jaw as he cleans off the sauce.  Your heartbeat escalates dramatically and you swear you can feel your blood get hotter as it courses through your veins.  He’s touching me, he’s touching me, you think to yourself.  Not just grazing my shoulder with his hand as he passes by, actually touching me with purpose, you think.  But that thought quickly disappears, he’s literally just wiping the pasta sauce off of your face that you were too dumb to notice.  Suddenly eyes lock and in that moment time stills, it feels like forever.  You can hear your heartbeat in your own ears, hands trembling and breath hitching.  You swear his thumb affectionately grazes your cheek even if just for a millisecond.  

And then—he was gone.  

~end~

<;- Prev |

Masterlist

[sad-emo-dip-dye]

for the character asks: Beast Akutagawa?

First impression: unbearable agony, I cry thinking about canon aku but actually having to read from beast Akus perspective?! Oh that was devastating I’ll never emotionally recover

Impression now: I love him I need to wrap him up in a hug and a warm blanky he’s not evil he just doesn’t know who he is yet

Favorite Moment: when he took odas kids to parent day at school and all the other parents were afraid of him

Idea for a story: I do like the idea of them meeting their canon selves

Unpopular opinion: I’m not sure if I have one

Favorite relationship: beast sskk of course but beast aku x beast tanizaki is a close runner up

Favorite headcanon: I like to think he helps kenji with farm work a lot, it’s stress a reliever for him and he just likes hanging out together

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

So those born before 1995 cannot do the companion enlistment. So Namjoon couldn’t do it.

I’m wondering if they wanted someone to go with jimin because of the general number of threats he gets or if they wanted someone to go with jungkook to keep him in check (since based on earlier this year he seems moody and depression prone / I believe he has other behavior issues), or some combo of both. And jikook fit the bill. Or if they just wanted to pair them up since they are wildly popular and maybe pairing them up kind of protects against hysteria.

And Taehyung’s couldn’t because his coward ass doesn’t wanna leave Seoul and face combat so he picked that special unit.

- Now that’s it’s been confirmed by hybe that Jimin and jungkook are enlisting using the companion system (I saw people saying they used the term for the companion system when talking about the two enlisting together), do you have any thoughts on it?

---

First of all, I have to say I couldn't care less about the specifics of military, honestly... Like, I see people talking about it and my mind goes blank because I'm just not interested😭

Still, I don't think it's necessary to look for a conspiracy theory in this. I personally don't find it weird or surprising that they enlisted together, I know it's something they wanted to. It was even probably Jimin's idea, if we're being honest.

I literally spent the last two years making fun of jikookers for saying that they were hiding from the military or whatever, because I knew that there was no danger in them being seen together.

Today I also thought a lot about Hoseok's last birthday live when Jimin said that he talked on the phone with Jin all the time. It makes me wonder if that influenced Jimin's decision, too. Also, I always expected Jimin to go somewhere he'd have to do a lot of physical activity. That was a given for me, I knew he'd wanna be really active.

More than anything, I'm kind of relieved I've already done my mourning the past two years, and now it doesn't feel as devastating as it would've been. I'm still sad, but it's not like I haven't been emotionally gearing up for it.

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

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[not-so-private-thoughts]

I’ve had two friends in the past month confide in me about emotional abuse they’ve experienced. As someone who spent two? three? years in an abusive friendship into romantic relationship, it’s brought up a lot of feelings.

When the first friend told me about the abuse they experienced, I was concerned for them, I was glad they were out, and what I remember most, I was so relieved to have someone in my life who has that shared experience. My past of abuse has been one of the most isolating things in my present life. That relationship made up the majority of my high school experience, and it ended as we each parted ways after senior year to have our own summers. Then I moved to a new state with no one I knew and was able to begin again. No one had any idea what I had been through, for better or worse. For a while, it was for better, it allowed me time and space to process and work through what had happened. For me to go from thinking of it as a normal high school relationship to realizing it was pretty toxic to, after about a year and a half out of the relationship, calling it what it was: emotionally abusive. Now though, a few months past two years out, I want to share how it’s affecting me still, to be able to talk about what I went through, and sometimes I do. But whenever I do, people I talk to don’t really get it. And on one level, I don’t want them to, it was horrifying, but they think they get it. They think the version of events they’ve learned and processed is reflective of the truth. But something sneaky about abuse is that it is so rarely encapsulated by one moment. It needs time for power dynamics to develop and fester. All this to say, when my first friend told me what had happened to them, a part of me I didn’t know existed was set at ease. Over text, he told me “I just feel like such a fraud and that I don’t have any control over my history,” which really stuck out to me. He had just days ago left the relationship and was still so fresh in all of the realizations of what he had experienced. It’s a sentiment I still resonate with. I feel so much anger that she took two years from me and I feel so much anger that I can’t ever really explain to anyone how devastating that is.

My other friend told me his story just yesterday, which is guess is why I’ve been thinking so much, why I’m writing. His story looked a lot more like mine, with one key difference. After ending that relationship, he didn’t get to leave. We live on a small college campus, the two of them are in the same degree program, they share friends. Their paths cross constantly. She rarely affects my day to day life anymore, but if I had to risk seeing her every time I left my house, I would be in a constant panic. And my friend here pretty much is. A lot of our friends are backing the person who abused him because they’re better friends with her, because they think he’s overreacting, because they are also being victimized by her, because they don’t get it, because it’s easier. Abuse as a word is so often thrown around weightlessly, gaslighting, too. So many people are so unaware of the severe damage that gaslighting can cause, it can so quickly and completely destabilize someone and they won’t even know it.

Gaslight gatekeep girlboss, I guess.

🪼

[distinctlackofnightingales]

UPDATE for anyone who cares

THEYRE ALL ALIVE!!!!!! I moved them out into a spot with better indirect sun exposure (the two in the above post as well as a couple of others) and they’re all looking loads better. Thank you so so much to everyone who replied to and reblogged this post with information and tips, I appreciate every single one of you. I’m just so relieved that none of them died. As silly as it sounds, that would have been incredibly emotionally devastating for me and I am so glad that they seem happier.

PLS DOES ANYONE KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT PLANTS MY PRAYER PLANTS ARE VERY SAD AND ALL THE APPS WANT ME TO PAY PLEASE I DONT WANT THEM TO DIE AND I AM A BROKE COLLEGE STUDENT I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER IF YOU HAVE ANY GENUINE ADVICE FOR ME

My parlor palm, aloe vera, and assorted other succulents have been just fine, but this is my first time owning prayer plants and I am way out of my depth here. Just posting with the hopes some kind soul is able to save my little guys.

Featured below are are my Maranta Prayer Plant (L) and Fishbone Prayer Plant (R) and as you can see they are Not Doing Great. They are alive but the Maranta’s leaves are spotting and Queenie (Fishbone) just looks a little too droopy to me.

They are in a bathroom, with the Maranta (Toast) on the counter and the Fishbone (Queenie) on the back of the toilet. I’d say they’re getting watered approximately once a week with water from the tap since it goes through the filter and we have hard water from the other faucet. They get some medium ish indirect sunlight through the morning and light indirect sunlight to sundown, nothing too horribly intense.

Do they need more sunlight?? I’m hoping they aren’t being overwatered, since I have been on every plant website under the fucking sun and everything so far is telling me they’re receiving adequate water.

Are they okay?? Is it because we’re approaching winter time? Again, first time having prayer plants, I’ve owned tons of succulents and such before so I am running off minimal information from some old houseplant horticulture databases tha helped me out with my plant questions in the past.

For reference, photos of the tops of the plants with Toast on the left again and Queenie on the right.

Forgot but important side note, I trimmed these leaves off an hour ago, figured I should document it somewhere in this post in case it helped at all with diagnosing. As you might guess from the leaf patterns, they all came off Toast except the one on the very bottom with the more distinct striping.

[shadeswift99]

Ranking Hermits based on how much I want to fight them

Because it's 1:08am and I've consumed enough sugar to fear neither man nor god

(this is all in good fun and all in the context of Minecraft of course, I do not want to go to anybody's real life house and punch them that's illegal)

Zedaph: Yes I could probably easily beat him but emotionally? Think of the cost. Devastating. 4/10

Tango: Outcome unclear. I think I could take him in an organized duel but otherwise he seems like he would use his environment to his advantage too well and also fight dirty. 6/10 I'm probably going to end up in lava but at least I can say I tried

Impulse: He doesn't want to fight me but if I choose to start something he could probably mess me up. The pain of getting my ass handed to me would only be surpassed by the pain of knowing it's entirely my fault. 2/10 I don't want to hear the Disappointed Voice he would use to tell me off

Grian: No. NO. Not in any setting under any circumstances. The last time I underestimated a short kid with nothing to lose in a fight I wholeheartedly regretted it, -100/10 short people are to be feared and respected

Iskall: Hm. He is obviously going to beat me up, no question, but I might be able to earn his respect by putting up a good enough fight beforehand. He'll certainly end up laughing at me but 6/10 I'll give it my best shot

Mumbo: I am going to snap this British suit dork in half like a goddamn twig, I am so ready, let me at him I'm going to crack him like a glowstick. 100/10

Cleo: Regardless of whether she could beat me, I have no motivation to fight her. She is already dead so there's not much point. I'll give her 5/10 though because I feel like she might bring a cutlass and being killed by a zombie with a pirate sword would absolutely slap

Joe: I could probably kill Joe but by god he is going to make me feel so bad about my decision to do so. Before he takes his last breath I will probably be having at least seventeen philosophical and moral crises at once. 2/10 I could fight him if I had to but I'd probably end up with him as my therapist afterwards

Jevin: The gloop and the splorch and the squelch would be phenomenal, 11/10 all my stress would be relieved by punching Jev

Wels: Very hard shell. -2/10

Xisuma: I have no real motivation to fight Xisuma, except that it would probably be very fun. Also if I could land a real hit on the guy who wears body armour 24/7 that would be an achievement I could be proud of. 6/10

Bdubs: Call an ambulance now. "But not for me?" you ask? No, it is for me. This man is filled with barely suppressed rage and hidden knives, he would shred me like a cat playing will a roll of toilet paper. -11/10, at least it would be funny though.

Doc: I would not want to fight Doc at all, except that I know the act of not fighting him would cause him to be smug about it, which would light in me a burning need to knock his lights right the fuck out. 11/10 I'm probably going to get clotheslined by a metal arm but I'm going down swinging

Cub: His initial non-fightability makes me nervous. Why is he like that. Why doesn't he want me to fight him. What is he trying to hide. 5/10 I'm not sure if I'm supposed to fight him or not but whichever one I choose it feels wrong

Scar: Hmm... I do not want to fight Scar but I do want to beat up a member of government. 8/10 but only if he's wearing the Mayor outfit and I get to break the monocle

Stress: I would like to fight Stress just to see what she does. There's a 4/5 chance she'll run away but a 1/5 chance she'll do something absolutely unhinged and ruthless (probably involving dogs or potions), and I want to roll the dice and see what I get. 4/10 because I don't think I could actually hurt her if it came to that

False: She is going to take me to pieces in less than five seconds and I will thank her. 10/10 I would be grateful for the privilege

Ren: If I try to fight him he will probably change into his wrestling suit and I do not want to be anywhere near that, 2/10

Etho: Makes me very nervous, too unpredictable. However if I do make the mistake of fighting him he will probably kill me in a fun and creative way. 3/10

Keralis: They always say to go for the eyes, and there's just so much eyes to go for! Endless opportunities, 10/10

[cookinguptales]

I’m still kind of collecting my thoughts but like. This episode was a lot better than I was expecting (some of the spoilers I heard were wrong, thankfully, or at least vaguer than I expected) and even if a lot of the things I wanted to get tied up in 4.09 never happened, this still wasn’t a bad season finale.

Fucking emotionally devastating, but not bad. Fuck, I’m relieved. lmao

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

Okay soo some more psycho sun au. 

* Sun is very wishy-washy with his brother as mentioned before. Sometimes he’s like, super affectionate and really happy with him and sometimes he will randomly dig brutally at like a major insecurity of his.

* So they are playing blocks or whatever, and Moon is actually calm for once since Sun is finally acting somewhat normal even if he is a bit too violent, and then out of nowhere Sun he makes a dig by mockingly innocently asking him why be still bothers going on his patrols since he’s so useless in actually protecting anyone.

* Sun is insanely emotionally abusive instead of being physically intimidating, though he does that too. He loves seeing how utterly distraught Moon looks when Sun cuts him down like that, it’s better then any physical pain can cause. 

* This isn’t helping his emotional instability, and despite no one knowing him very well the other robots noticed how massively unstable he is emotionally. Like Monty asked if he was alright, and he slammed his head against the wall to keep himself from crying and then answered “Yeah I’m fine.” He is not fine. 

* He does this a lot. He doesn’t want to cry infront of anyone, especially not Sun since he knows thats what this bastard wants, so he smacks himself or hits his head against the wall to distract him long enough to settle down his emotions. Either that or some other most likely unhealthy way to cope like pulling the wires in his wrists. Like an animatronic version of nail picking/hair pulling.

* He gets enough charge to work, Sun doesn’t want him to turn off so he still lets him get everything done he needs so he can continue harassing him. But emotionally? He is utterly drained.

* Sun once found him out on the balcony and started making jokes poking fun at him, but then he noticed that Moon was legit devastated and Sun didn’t know how to feel. It’s like how whenever Sun gets hurt, Moon despite the virus watches over him because of that bit of paternal personality kicks in. When Moon cries or shows genuine emotional distress, it makes a bit of Sun’s programming kick back in. Though Moon isn’t nearly as happy or accepting of these moments of genuine care as Sun is. While it gives Sun hope, Moon just demands Sun leave and stop playing with him because he doesn’t believe he actually cares after everything he does.

* By the time Sun was set back to normal, the relationship between the two of them was rather raw and Sun was oblivious to it. Moon was just relieved to have him back, but Sun could immediately tell that his brother wasn’t entirely alright. He was happy, but speaking really quietly even for Moon and while the excitement and relief felt genuine it also felt like he was penting up a lot of emotions. It was stilted and felt like it was wavering.  Moon didn’t want to tell Sun what he had done while infected, insisting that it didn’t matter because he was back now and that’s all he cares about now. But Sun is stubborn, and after pushing enough Moon eventually broke down and started crying and told him. 

* Sun apologized over 100 times in the next hour, he felt AWFUL about hurting his brother so much. Moon was relieved to finally get all his emotions out, although regret telling Sun so bluntly “You were acting like some demented toddler that wouldn’t leave me alone and hearing you make fun of me all the time was emotionally devastating.” 

[helliontherapscallion]

Privileges (Adrenaline Junkie Part 11)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: slight description of death/injury/illness, small description of homelessness, slight panic attack

Word count: 2,845

You and Arthur sat at the top of the cliff for a while sitting in silence. Glancing at the sun’s position, you guessed that it’s been a couple of hours. You continued to wait patiently for him to gather his courage that you knew he had. He looked conflicted. 

The wild herds of livestock grazed peacefully below you, filling the silence with various moos and oinks. Various flowers colorfully dotted the green grass with multiple shades of vibrant blues, yellows, whites, and reds. The few clouds that littered the baby blue sky rolled endlessly above you, giving you a sense of peace and entertainment when you tried to make out mobs from the abstract shapes. The breeze lightly blew against your skin making you shiver every now and then from the feeling of it working its way through your feathers and hair. It was a perfect day for flying.

While you were waiting, you took out the snacks and water and handed them to Arthur. He originally didn’t want them, but you insisted he at least drink something today. He needed hydration if he was going to sit under the hot sun for hours. Every time he would take a deep breath (which was often), you would perk up and look at him ready to fully divert your attention towards him, only to look elsewhere when he would sigh. You were starting to lose your patience, but you knew you had to hold out for Arthur. That poor kid looks like he’s been through a lot in such a short amount of time. 

You mindlessly munched on a granola bar. The chocolate and grain danced on your tastebuds in perfect harmony like an old married couple gleefully waltzing at their grandchild's wedding. Washing down the taste with water, you feel the cool liquid slither it’s way down your throat, relieving parts with it’s refreshing properties. You let your mind wander to your brothers.

Technoblade, ever the individualistic, nonconforming anarchist, lived a couple of hours outside the outskirts of the Dream SMP lands. You visited his house once and it was nice, but you really didn’t like the cold. Your metal prosthetic froze to your amputated wing and it took several painful hours of waiting by the fireplace for it to unstick to your feathers. Techno appeared indifferent of the situation, but you knew he cared deep down. He always was a softie for his family members. 

Wilbur was in his element in L’manberg. Leadership came naturally for him, and you were immensely grateful for that. Without him, L’manberg would’ve gone down in history with dishonor. L’manberg was thriving under his just rule. Infrastructure was slowly starting to spread throughout the entirety of the small nation, making it easier to travel. You always flew everywhere, much to the disapproval of Wilbur (“(y/n), can’t you just use the roads I just built?”), so the infrastructure never really affected your daily life. You appreciated that he was working so hard to build his symphony up from measure one to the end. He was truly the heart and soul of his great nation.

Tommy was… well for lack of a better description, Tommy. You were incredibly proud of him, giving up his prized music discs was a gigantic sacrifice for him. It really showed how much he grew up from being the toddler you met a little over a decade ago. Your little brother wreaked havoc in L’manberg, but a good kind of havoc. Tommy and his partner in crime Tubbo were the ones that eased tension during the War. Even after the War, they always actively searched for adventure. They made people smile as they would run past, they knew they were in for a show later on in the day. Tommy and Tubbo gave the nation life outside of its physical growth, they were the morale of the nation. 

You supposed that you were somewhat important to L’manberg, but not as important as your brothers. Sure, they used your inventions to help fight Dream and his goons, but they would’ve been able to do that without your creations. Though, it was satisfying to see the looks on their faces when the L’manbergians whipped out the portable TNT launchers and automatic crossbows to absolutely decimate them. You didn’t really supply L’manberg with physical or morale growth, you were just… there. In your cramped workshop. Tinkering endlessly with inventions that you hoped would make people’s lives easier. 

“(Y/n), I’m ready.”

You jumped a little, turning to him and giving him what you hoped was an encouraging smile. He took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at you.

“It started when I was seven. Mama and Papa were sick. We didn’t have enough money to pay for a doctor, so me and my brother Hugh were trying our best to take care of them. We weren’t good enough though, they died after a couple weeks. 

“People came to take us away from Mama and Papa, but Hugh told me to run away as far as I could. He told me that he’d be right behind me. So, we ran to the woods. He said that he knew a few people that lived there that’d be able to help. We lived with them for three years, they were nice people. 

“One day, they needed supplies so me and Hugh went to go find a cave. The cave we found was really pretty, it had tons of redstone and iron. We went deeper and deeper til we found a huger cave. It had tons of feathers there and some red brown stuff on the walls.” You felt a shiver run down your spine as you realized that those were probably yours. You wondered if they were still down there.

His voice started to get strained and wobbly. “A-and we saw it. Hugh told me to hide and not make any noise so I did and… and it killed him.”

Tears steadily dribbled down Arthur’s freckled cheeks as his lip wobbled and his nose turned as red as his hair. He was starting to hyperventilate. You reached over and pulled Arthur into a tight winged hug. You gently rubbed his back and whispered reassurances into his ear.

“It’s alright Arthur, please breathe with me. In,” you took a deep breath, “and out.” You let out the breath. Even though his breath was steady a few minutes later, you still kept him in a tight hug. It absolutely devastated you that he went through so much in his short life. He started sobbing again.

“(Y/n), it took his soul! Hugh’s still down there with it!” He blubbered out.Your hand froze on his shoulder. 

What. It can’t take souls, could it? That’s not possible, right? …Right? You were going to have to ask Philza about it, but Arthur is your first and only priority right now. His loud sobs were slightly muffled by your shoulder as you felt your shirt get slightly wet with his tears. You did your best to comfort him, but you weren’t used to comforting a child that just lost his only family. 

“I’ll never let that happen to you again. I promise.”

You sat with Arthur protectively wrapped in your arms until you saw that the sun was going to set in the next few minutes. Not good, not good at all. You looked down at Arthur, his eyes were closed in a deep sleep, taking deep shuddering breaths in and out. Good, you needed to get him out of there and you didn’t want to traumatize him anymore than he already is by showing him how mobs react when you’re near them. 

You hastily packed up your stuff before taking off as quickly as you could without waking the sleeping boy. You flew as fast as you could through the air, keeping a tight grip on Arthur as you cut through the darkening sky. You could see zombies, skeletons, spiders, and the occasional enderman below you. Luckily, they didn’t notice you as you flew overhead. 

Just as the lit up house entered your line of sight, you felt something whiz past you accompanied by a strong gust of wind. Looking down, you realized that it was a skeleton. It shooting an arrow garnered the attention of the surrounding mobs as they turned their heads to look directly at you. Shit.

You pushed yourself to fly faster and twisted your body so that if an arrow were to land, it would hit you and not Arthur. You felt the air around you shift as a myriad of arrows were shot at you. Dodging the best you could, you glanced down at Arthur. Still asleep. Good, he didn’t need to see this.

Getting closer to the house, you lowered yourself to the ground fully and pushed your feet against the grass, running for dear life as you heard a fwoosh of air right next to your ear. FInally, you reached the doorknob and swung the door open. Flinging yourself and Arthur inside, you slammed the door behind you, hearing the banging of arrows hitting the wood. 

You leaned against the door panting and closed your eyes, clutching Arthur closer to you in relief. You opened your eyes and peered down at his face. Still asleep? How much of a deep sleeper was this kid? Maybe he was just extremely emotionally tired from earlier. That’s probably how he impossibly slept through all that. 

You pushed yourself off the door and headed up to Wilbur’s, well Arthur’s room so you could put him to bed. You peeled the covers back and placed him gently on the mattress. You covered his body with the heavy comforter and tucked him in. His face visibly relaxed and a slight smile quirked onto his lips. You took a deep breath and stood there watching him. That was certainly a close one. Way too close for your tastes. You almost got him killed because you lost track of time. 

You swept the bangs out of his eyes and left the room, gently closing the door behind you. You tiredly drug yourself down the stairs to the kitchen so you could at least grab a small snack before passing out in the comfort of your bed. Today was just not your day. At least you’d get a decent night’s sleep tonight. 

Walking into the kitchen, you saw Philza sitting at the table looking at you with… was that relief or anger? Or a mix? He stood up and quickly walked over to you. You tensed up, fully expecting to get yelled at, only to feel him hug you. You melted into his touch and felt small tears prick at the corner of your eyes. You really needed a hug after today.

“Don’t ever do that again. I don’t care that you’re an adult, do you know how worried I was? I thought you and Arthur got hurt. He’s just a child and you’re on your last life (y/n). You need to be more careful.”

You didn’t say anything. You just buried your face into his shoulder and let out a silent sob. “I was so scared Arthur was gonna get hurt, I didn’t know what to do.”

The emotion you were holding in all day from sleep deprivation and lack of nutrients completely spilled out. You felt pathetic, crying in your dad’s arms like you were a kid again. He rubbed soothing circles on your back and led you to the couch where you both sat in each other’s arms. Once you calmed down, you pulled away and wiped at your eyes, facing away from him so he didn’t see your weakness. 

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t sleep at all last night and everything just… came out.”

“Hey,” he chided gently, making you look at him, “don’t apologize for feeling emotions. You were bottling it all up weren’t you?”

You nodded shamefully. “...And what did I tell you and your brothers about holding it in?”

“Not to do it.” Your croaky voice cracked out. 

He smiled at you. “That’s my kid. Did you talk to Arthur?”

“Yeah. He’s actually alone, Dad. He doesn’t have anyone out there for him. And he… he said that they saw my feathers and blood down there on the walls and floor. Saw his brother get killed right in front of him… mentioned something about The Warden stealing his brother’s soul? It can’t do that right?”

You were met with silence. “...Right? Dad, you’re scaring me.”

“Yes, The Warden takes the souls of it’s dead. It’s how they live so long, they trap the souls in their chests and feast on the lifespans in rations until the soul is completely integrated into it’s very being.”

So that’s what the screaming white wisps that haunted your nightmares were. They were the souls of the dead. They were screaming in agony when The Warden killed you, so you thought they still held onto their humanity. You remembered hearing thousands of screams echoing off from the stony walls of the dark cave. Shuttering, you remembered how some of the souls stared at you in desperation and despair. 

“...So the souls are trapped with it forever?”

He nodded, not looking at you. The Warden killed you in your first life, why were you still… still you? It doesn’t make sense. 

You swallowed thickly. “Then why didn’t it take mine?”

“I don’t know hun, I wish I could tell you why. I thought you died for good before you respawned. I thought it took your soul.” His voice cracked slightly at the end.

You pulled him into a hug. “It didn’t and I’m still here. That’s the important part, Dad. I’m still here.”

Continuing to give him comfort, you trailed off as you remembered your first death. What could’ve prevented it from taking your soul like the rest? You blanched thinking about what it would’ve been like to be stuck with The Warden indefinitely. Trapped and suffering until it was fully integrated into it’s monstrous body for the rest of eternity. It sounded like hell on Earth. Before today, you thought death was the absolute worst outcome, but you were mistaken. You were given the mercy, no the privilege, of death that day. 

Was it because of the stone platform you landed on? That must’ve been it, there’s no other way you could’ve respawned if you landed anywhere else; the stone platform was the only space you could’ve landed that was far enough above the ground to bleed out. You remembered how your shattered ribs would grind together as you endlessly sobbed and the hot blood dripping off from your forehead and wing warming up your rapidly cooling form. Dying like that was a privilege compared to what the lost souls of the miners endured. You didn’t know how long they’ve been in there, but you still would rather die like that a thousand times over than have to be trapped inside that thing for all of eternity. 

Your thought process was interrupted as Philza pulled away and wiped the tears from his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was slightly blotchy, it’s been a while since you’ve seen him like that. He’s always been strong for you and your brothers. 

“...Why don’t we grab some dinner before we go to bed, I assume you didn’t eat…?”

His sheepish look gave you all the answers you needed. “There’s some leftover mushroom soup we could eat.”

You stood up and gave him a bright smile. “Let’s dig in then, I’m starving!”

He laughed as you pulled him off the couch and into the kitchen. “Did you eat anything after breakfast?”

You paused slightly then continued to pour the soup into two bowls. “...That’s not important.”

He pursed his lips. “(Y/n).”

“I had like a quarter of a granola bar if that counts.”

“(Y/n) you went through the day with only half your breakfast and a few cups of coffee in your system?”

“I know, I know, not healthy. But that still doesn’t take away from the fact that you didn’t eat dinner either.” You slid the bowl over to him across the table. 

His eyes narrowed in thought before he sighed in defeat. “Touché.”

You snorted and started to eat your soup. You hummed as the earthy flavor shimmied around in your mouth comforting you after today’s events. You automatically felt better after eating. You always found comfort in food. Before you knew it, both you and Philza were done with your dinners and were leaning back in your chairs. You felt your eyes start to droop against your will.

“Why don’t you go to bed and I can clean up. You look like you’re gonna pass out.” He snickered. You hummed in agreement, too tired to argue and murmured out a quiet “thanks. G’night, love ya.” You drug your feet up the stairs and plop down on your bed, passing out instantly as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

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[allthingsdarkanddirty]

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Chloe He’s Emerald Creek’s hot, wounded, and emotionally unavailable pub owner. My unforgettable one-night-stand with a stranger. And now, my business rival. I should be able to handle that, right? After all, I’m the strong woman who totally survived losing her job, being kicked out of her apartment, and finding her boyfriend in bed with another woman–all in one day. What else could go wrong? Meeting the perfect man, and having to walk away from him. I keep my promise and slip out in the morning, never to see him again–until my cousins beg me to run their family’s restaurant after my uncle suddenly dies, and he’s the next-door pub owner. Except now he inexplicably hates me, and wants me gone. But this job is all I have. I’m not going anywhere. Justin We had a deal: One night, no names, no numbers. She was smart, sexy, and beautiful-–the worst kind of trouble. The mysterious woman I cradled through the night could have been the one, if I were that type of guy. The one I could change for. But I like it fine just the way I am. So when morning comes and she’s gone, I’m both devastated and relieved. Until she appears in my hometown, on my doorstep, causing trouble to my business. She doesn’t seem to know it, but there’s literal bad blood between our families. I need her gone. But everyone in Emerald Creek thinks differently, and even my dog plays matchmaker. Falling for the enemy has never been so tempting. Available now in the Emerald Creek series + read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited #1 Never Let You Go https://bit.ly/3wqJySM

[autumnslance]

Ever thought about what Thancred's reaction to Aeryn nearly dying after the fight with Endsinger and Zenos or maybe his reaction after she awoke when he is solely with Aeryn alone when they returned? This idea has latched onto my mind and my WoLxThancred love, I know when we see him with the Scions he's all stoic and calm but I bet inside if paired with the WoL, he must be in agony. I wondered what your take on that idea would be like?

Aeryn’s very sensitive Echo (she understands Meteion way too well, but when Aeryn’s Echo woke she had life experiences and maturity bird daughter didn’t) means Aeryn can sense everyone’s fear and grief—especially Thancred’s—keenly, even if outwardly he’s doing his Stoic Dad Act. Also everyone’s relieved frustration when she does wake and asks “Everyone else all right?” In an attempt to be jokey cuz Ow.

She does briefly, waveringly, stand with Alphinaud and Urianger’s help to see them arrive home, and breaks down herself into happy tears, cuz all Aeryn wanted after defeating/saving Meteion was to Go Home. To be with her Scion family. Maybe it was her fervent wish to live for that, while laying in a realm of pure dynamis, with a foot crossing the threshold of death’s door that brought the beacon to teleport her back to them.

So Aeryn’s a sobbing wreck as they do the victory flyby, explaining to the Scions what happened during the battle with Endsinger and the last minute team up then fight with Zenos being why she’s so completely battered, and how this is all she wanted—to return to Etheirys with all of them. There’s a big group hug and then she has to be carried off the ship by Thancred. Krile’s distressed by that, but Aeryn assures her she did the right thing and now Zenos shouldn’t bother anyone ever again, hooray!

(Aeryn was seriously so Done with Zenos; not even scared anymore, just…Done, which is the reason she agreed to the combat; he’d never stop otherwise, and it was the best time and place to be rid of him, with no one else at risk with both of them cutting loose).

Thancred is initially reluctant to hand off Aeryn to the arriving healers (he can totally carry her there himself it’s fine…) until Y’shtola and G’raha gently chide, and even then Thancred doesn’t leave her side as she’s taken into care, and then her room at the Annex to rest.

While others are present, Thancred and Aeryn gently tease each other about each trying to sacrifice themselves to save everyone else—him at the arrival at Ultima Thule and her at the end—but when alone finally, the walls come down, he starts to tell her how devastated he felt, and when she tries to spare him by reminding him that she already knows, he says “Let me say it out loud” which surprises her (and would make her swoon if she wasn’t already flat on her back in eight kinds of pain). More tears and an emotionally cathartic conversation I’m not sure how to write the dialogue for (yet) ensues. He has, after all, gotten better about opening up, but it’s still a difficult thing, especially for something this affecting.

The others get to tease him later for being a hovering mother bird (“Father bird, thank you very much,” which makes Urianger laugh for Reasons) as he nurses and waits on Aeryn as she recovers. Varshahn, at Tataru’s suggestion, has Aeryn’s stepfamily brought to Sharlayan to see and help tend to Aeryn and make Thancred get some damned rest too (He cannot fight Rashae and The Grandmothers, nor the nieces and nephews doing their part to distract).

So uh. Yeah, I’ve given it some thoughts. 😉 Whether I will get to writing it into a story or not we shall see. I have so many thing to write and not the time or focus/energy to do it! 😅