#im not comfortable with personals reblogging it

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter VII: Choose Love or Sympathy

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev. | diaries coming soon

songs for this chapter: that’s what you get by paramore, xo by fall out boy, lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, king for a day by pierce the veil

a/n: hear me when i say these two are absolutely in for it it. I'm also a huge fan of italics apparently

chapter tags: angst, hurt/comfort but then... hurt/no comfort (SORRY!), reader is a sensitive baby we love her, mean!Eddie, but also very sweet Eddie. swearing, smoking, drinking, reader struggles with self image / mental health (vague for now) | fic tags: angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU

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taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotine @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality |

--

The weekend comes barreling towards you sooner than you’d have liked. You wake up Friday morning with a sense of dread, Robin’s words on a broken loop in your head: what you ‘know’ isn’t the whole goddamn story. Everyone keeps fucking saying that, but no one has actually told you what you “don’t know.”. Chris hasn’t given you a goddamn leg to stand on, speaking in riddles and never once confirming or denying a thing. You’re an adult, and you wish these fuckers would start treating you like one.

On your nightstand, your phone buzzes repeatedly, a string of incoming text messages:

bobbins: so,, ive smoked some weed bobbins: im cool now  bobbins: i still think there’s a lot we don’t know,, bobbins: but I’m sorry for insinuating you should forgive him. bobbins: i cant imagine how you felt that day. bobbins: i love u bb

You scramble to respond before she can get another five messages in,

it’s ok bob, i love u 2

The subject changes swiftly as she tosses questions about tonight at you one after the other. You send her pictures of your outfit choices, hairstyle ideas, personal protection list before finally asking her the question gnawing on your brain. 

What if he doesn’t like me?

Robin responds by calling you.

“Hi?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She starts, not letting you explain. “He asked you out, why wouldn’t he like you?!”

“I dunno! Maybe he’s just looking for a hookup. Maybe he thought I’d be easy?” The suggestion sounds silly coming out of your mouth, and you hear Robin scoff at you. 

“Look, if things start to stink, call me. Steve’s closing tonight, so he’ll be right down the street.”

You sigh into the receiver. “Okay, okay. You’re right, I’m probably worried for nothing.”

“Atta girl! Now go on, go headbang or whatever it is you people do.”

You snort as you say your goodbyes, and hang up the phone. Without Robin to distract you, you turn to the outfits you’ve spread out on your bed. Emo Nite is casual, sure, but you still want to look good. You decide on a pair of Tripp pants, adorned with metal hooks and chains, pairing it with an old Paramore shirt you cropped with kitchen scissors in high school. With your outfit out of the way, you sit at your vanity to do your makeup, extending your winged eyeliner a little further than you would on a normal day. When you’re done, your alarm clock reads 8:30, and you make your way to your car. 

–

9:15.

The lights of the city seem to dance across the sky. Everything is louder here, bustling with nightlife you could only dream of seeing in Hawkins. You’re standing outside the club alone, nursing the end of your last cigarette. Maybe he’s running late? You don’t have a single unread text from Scotty. You type several different messages of your own, deleting each one before settling on “You on your way?” But its delivery is never confirmed. It’s grown cold outside, and you wrap your flannel tighter around you to keep the wind out. You should have brought a jacket, but you weren’t expecting to be outside for this long. You can hear the first notes of an old favorite song, followed by a bunch of 20 somethings cheering. Patrons are dressed in black, clad in leather and fishnets, their combat booted feet stomping into the venue. Emo Nite is a nostalgia cash grab, you know that, but you’re envious of everyone setting foot inside, surrounded by their friends and peers, leaving you abandoned at the door. 

–

9:30.

The time taunts you from your phone screen. You’re waiting outside the club, the air brisk on your face. Every so often, the door swings open as someone enters or exits, and you turn to see if it’s someone for you. So far, none of them have been, and you’re debating whether or not to walk to the record store and ask Steve to hitch a ride back to his place to mope. 

“Hey, Bee!” The voice calling you isn’t the one you’re hoping to hear, but it’s just as familiar. You find its source across the street, Macy waving at you eagerly as her bandmates and fucking Eddie follow behind. Oh, right. Like being stood up isn’t humiliating enough, now Eddie gets to tease you about it. 

“What’re you doing out here, girl? It’s freezing!” Macy is sweet, holding your icy cheeks between her warm hands. You can tell she’s already had a few drinks.

“I’m, hm,” You clear your throat, “I’m waiting for someone.”

“A date? Eek! Hear that, Eds? Our girl has a date!” Her words send static through your veins. Since when are you anyone’s girl, let alone Munson and Macy’s?

“Mhm, okay, honey. Let’s go get you situated, yeah?” Eddie ushers her inside, handing her off to Fiona before returning to where you’re standing. Without a word, he lights a cigarette and offers it to you, and you take it without acknowledgement while he lights his own. After what seems like hours, the two of you choose to speak at the same time,

“How late is–” “Why did you–” “What?” “What?”

“You first,” Eddie gestures to you before pulling from his cigarette.

“Why did you tell Scotty to ask me out?” 

“What in the world makes you think I told him to ask you out?”

“Look, she’s gonna kill me for telling you this, but Robin overheard you in the bathroom talking to Scotty at the bar. She walked in by accident, and you two had come in before she could leave. Anyway, you know she can’t keep secrets for shit, so she told me what you said to him. Why?” You cross your arms, attempting to hold in as much body heat as possible,but to no avail. Eddie notices, and immediately sheds his jacket, not giving you a chance to refuse it as he drapes the leather over your shoulders. 

“I thought he was a cool dude. Thought you guys would hit it off.” His answer does nothing to satiate the hunger for every detail of every single thought that went through his brain up until this very moment. He is driving you fucking insane. “Hey, I bet I could get Macy to put you on the guestlist, so at least tonight won’t be a total waste?” Yet another peace offering from Eddie Munson. Hell must have frozen over.

He doesn’t wait for your approval before reaching into his inner jacket pocket of the coat that you have since put fully on to shield yourself from the wind, to grab his phone. After eagerly punching a few buttons, he holds the device up to his ear, plugging the other with his finger. “Hey, babe. I’m outside with Bee, Scott stood her up.” You can’t hear what Macy’s response is, but Eddie replies with, “You read my mind, honey. We’ll be in in a sec.” He ends the call and turns his attention back to you, his big brown eyes attempting, it seems, to read your mind. “You pissed?”

You shake your head, inhaling another drag of your cigarette. “Not really. Disappointed, I guess.” You pick at your cuticles, refusing to hold eye contact with Eddie, but that doesn’t stop him from boring his own into the top of your head; you can feel them penetrating your skull. “Could’a used the distraction.”

“Fancy me a distractor? Macy’s gonna be busy, I’m practically all by myself tonight.” You look up, and Eddie’s jutting his bottom lip out to pout at you. 

“You don’t mind being seen with me?” You tease, flicking ash onto the concrete. You can’t imagine Eddie actually wants you to agree to this offer.

“Why would I? When have I ever cared what people think of me? Especially these posers.” He gestures to you, and you fake offense.

“Posers?! I’ll have you know I have met some of the most authentic punks at places like this, you dweeb!” You toss your cigarette butt on the ground, stomping out the embers with your boot. 

“Sorry, sorry! I’m used to going to shows where people leave bloody. Not used to this side of the alternative Venn Diagram, I guess.” He flicks his own cigarette, mirroring your movements. “Shall we go inside?” You nod begrudgingly, and he opens the door to the club for you, stopping to give the bouncer your names.

–

The club is dark, expectedly. The lights flash shades of pink, purple, and blue as people dance and attempt to chat over the noise; and the whole scene is set to the music of your childhood and teen years. As Eddie leads you across the floor, you can feel your chest tighten, watching couples surrounding you, dancing or sloppily making out against the back wall. You let it sink in that you've been stood up. The first time in three years you’d even attempted to go on a date, and the guy didn’t even show up. You hum along to the song playing, a desperate plea for distraction from the situation in front of you. Meanwhile, Eddie leads you to a table away from the speakers, and shouts that he’ll be right back. You can only guess he’s off to wish his girlfriend luck.

While you wait, you observe the crowd around you, and it’s full of kids you knew in high school that used to bully you for liking this kind of music, dressed as caricatures with arm warmers and cheap chains dangling off their black skinny jeans. Conventionally attractive girls wear their eyeliner in heavy wings, their lips painted shades of dark red, dancing with boys in all black with long hair. You try not to think about what Scotty would have worn. You wonder if he even likes this kind of thing. Maybe it was a test, and you'd failed.

Just as you’re about to spiral into misery again, Eddie returns with two drinks in his hands. “You like shirleys, right? I wasn’t totally sure. I can go grab you something else if you want?” If you didn’t know any better, you would think Eddie was nervous.

“No, this is good. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem!” He has to yell over the music.

“And, uh, thanks for hanging out with me. I know it’s like, the last thing you wanna be doing right now.”

Eddie takes a swig of his beer before responding, “Nah, definitely not the last thing. This is way better than listening to Steve talk about his latest conquest.” You picture the scenario, Eddie slamming his head against a wall while Steve goes on and on about Tracy, or Nicole, or whoever it is this week. The mental image makes you giggle, and Eddie’s smile seems to widen. It makes you uncomfortable, being so close to him. Luckily, though, you don’t get to think about it too long.

“Alright, alright! Thank you guys for comin’ out to hang with us! We have a guest for you tonight, please welcome Macy Miller, frontwoman of Statuesque Dolls!” The crowd cheers politely, these things never have people worth freaking out over. Macy takes the stage, clad in a silky black dress that hugs her form perfectly. Next to you, Eddie is whooping and hollering, “That’s my girl!” It makes your stomach churn. You’re reminded again that you’re supposed to be here on a date. You’re supposed to be someone’s girl. 

“Alright, I got a couple of songs for you guys, but I need all of you up and shaking some emo ass with me, got it?!” You can’t deny Macy knows how to work a crowd. She gets people to migrate to the dance floor, and Eddie offers his hand out. “Can I have this dance?”

“Um,” You hesitate to take his outstretched palm. “What about Macy?” You point lamely to where Macy is killing her cover of Fall Out Boy’s XO.

“What about her? It’s a dance, Bee. I’m not, like, asking you to sleep with me or some shit.” Eddie frowns at you, like you’ve offended him.

He does have a point, though. One dance won’t kill you. You accept his gesture, taking his own massive hand in yours, and hope to god he can’t tell that yours is sweating. He leads you to the dance floor, waving to Macy from the crowd as he does. There’s a burn in your stomach when she blows him a kiss, and he pretends to catch it in his mouth. You’re close to bailing when Eddie turns his attention back to you, clearing his throat.

You stare back at him, eyes wide with fear that he’s going to bail, and you prepare to tuck your tail between your legs and call Robin. Instead, Eddie takes your hand again, and yanks you into his embrace. You bump into his chest, but he recovers the fumble by holding you there, free arm resting hesitantly on your waist. You’re frozen, having no clue where to put your hands, so Eddie takes the lead. He drops the hand he’s holding on his shoulder, and moves your other to meet it on the other side. He then rests both his hands on your hips, giving you enough space between his body and yours to breathe, but barely.

The song continues, melodramatic and overtly horny. That, combined with the warmth of the drink in your veins, plus the closeness of Eddie, makes you feel almost good. It’s difficult not to overthink, though, having him in your personal space, your bodies pressed together on a very hot, crowded dance floor, moving in ways you definitely wouldn't have done three hours ago.

“So,” Eddie muses, looking anywhere but at you as he speaks, but still able to move in sync with you. “How’s your day goin’?”

You snicker at his poor attempt at conversation. “Well, I got stood up, and now I’m dancing with who I would have bet this morning wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. All things considered, I think it’s going pretty horribly!” 

The ice seems to crack as you speak, Eddie visibly relaxing as you sway to the music. “Okay, that’s fair. Are you pleasantly surprised?”

You look up at him, but his eyes are locked over your head, staring where Macy stands onstage, swaying with a few friends in front of the DJ booth. You shrug. “Jury’s still out.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes at you. After what feels like an eternity, the song ends and Macy queues another rock anthem to get the crowd moving again. You’re unmoving as Eddie unwraps himself from you. “We should do this again sometime.” He states, unreadable.

“What, dance?”

“Sure, or just, y'know, hang out. Be civil for once. It’s been awhile.”

You roll your eyes. “You know this can’t be, like, a normal thing. It bruises our reputation as sworn enemies.” A feeble attempt to make it a joke, though you know in your heart you can’t be friends with Eddie. The earth would cave in on itself. 

Eddie chuckles. “Whatever you say, Bee. See ya ‘round.” And he leaves you alone, disappearing into the crowd.

–

It’s 11:30 when your phone buzzes. You’re four drinks deep, stirring another dirty shirley at the bar, observing the people around you having fun.

Scotty A: Hey! Totally meant to text you. Got stuck at work.

An avalanche of thoughts rumbles through you, most of them not safe for work. You don’t even know how to respond. There’s no apology, no groveling for your forgiveness, not a hint of actual, real regret. Like you don’t matter. It exhausts you to even think of what that date would’ve been like had he shown up. You type your response between gulps of liquid courage.

“Are you fucking serious?”

The "..." bubble appears, but quickly vanishes. You gape at your phone, wishing you were home so you could let out the blood curdling scream building in your chest. The anger vibrating through you needs an escape, so you lurch from your seat at the bar, rushing quickly out of the club. Eddie whips his head around as you pass him. You think you hear him call your name, but your eyes have started stinging and he’s the last person you want to see you cry.

The night air hits you hard, bringing separate tears to your eyes. Following your therapist’s advice, you start a box breathing exercise. Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. 

“Hey,” The voice startles you into a hiccup. “You okay?” Eddie has made his way outside after you, leaning against the wall. “Saw you dash outta there like something caught fire. Got worried.” He says it nonchalantly, and it takes you aback. Instead of responding, you flip your phone screen towards him. His eyes scan the page before they focus back on you, shaking his head. “That is so fucked up.”

Your voice breaks with your next question. “Did you know this was gonna happen? Scotty’s your friend.”

Eddie’s face drops into a grimace. “How would I have known? Why would I have told him to hit you up if I knew this was gonna happen?” 

It frustrates you how reasonable he’s being. You want someone to yell at, someone to blame, and Eddie just so happens to be the closest target. “I don’t know! Maybe you did it as revenge, or something equally as immature. Maybe you wanted me to feel the same way you did when–”

He interrupts, shaking his head feverishly. “I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. Even you.” The words are a knife to your chest. You don’t like remembering what you did to Eddie that night, but it’s your fault for bringing it up. “I told Scotty to ask you out because he said he liked you. Crazy concept, I know, but i suggest you stop thinking everyone’s out to get you. I thought it would be fun, hanging out with you and him. I’m sorry it didn’t go how you planned, but blaming me isn’t fucking fair, Bee.”

He’s right, but you can’t bring yourself to back down. “It’s not fair to take someone’s brother away for six years, but you had no problem doing that.”

“Fuck you, Bee. Seriously.” He spits the words before turning on his heel, and heading inside. You are once again left alone, outside, in the cold.

–

[taxidermydolls]

despite the fact that i reblog and occaisonally talk about darker topics on here, i am actually a really sweet and gentle natured person and i hope thats how people perceive me. im soft spoken and painfully shy and i stop to pet every single cat that i see. i cry uncontrollably when i realise that people i care about are beyond my help and i feel a persistent, unexplainable sense of guilt over nothing in particular. the only thing that truly makes me feel at peace is being in nature, especially at night. i love the feeling of looking around me and seeing nothing but trees and stars and moonlight. it brings me comfort to think about how so many others have walked amongst the same trees before me, appreciating their beauty, and that many more will. to me, forests are the closest thing there is to a god. although im a deeply unhappy person in a lot of ways, i am glad that ill never become someone who views the world with hatred and malignance. regardless of how much darkness surrounds me, i will always find a way to make it bearable by finding the delicacy within it, instead of ignoring it for the conventionally appealing.

[synthetic-sonata]

i should probably make ( or remake ) a friendgroup hangout server for tumblr mutuals adn the like but i am so fucking sapped of energy that i dont feel like it and am overly paranoid ab stupid friendgroup drama happening Again . also my trackpad being half broken all the time prob doesnt help

[mangoofthesea]

How many things do you think need to be set on fire to disrupt capitalism enough to create a livable society? Asking for a friend

[acaesic]

man. i wanna get back into multifandom stuff but at the same time i cannot feel anything for things that arent idkhow anymore :,)

[lunawlw]

so all the talk about land back along with abolishing the police, down with capitalism, all cops being bastards, punching nazis, being gay doing crimes, and black lives matter was just a fucking lie from yall huh

[storywestistrash]

if you follow the right people it starts feeling like theres like 5 people on this website

[whumpsical]

Jay

contents: flashback to a minor whumpee, homelessness, discussed homophobia, bio family blues

Some sweet comfort from one the rockiest eras of Jian's past <3 the gays stick together <33

sometime in 2014

taglist!!! @yet-another-heathen @much-ado-about-whumping @minerscanary

🌲🌲🌲🌲

“Come here, Jay.”

Jian bristled.

He was only sixteen at the time. He didn’t like nicknames. He’d never liked nicknames. It wasn’t anyone’s fault; no one had beaten or bullied him out of a taste for them, and he had no past relationships to any particular nicknames to turn him off to the concept. He just didn’t like them.

But at Casanova, one of the many gay bars in Jian’s early rotations, the owner liked to call him Jay. And Jian found that it didn’t grate on his nerves the way it usually would, not coming from Cal.

Cal first caught Jian sneaking into Casanova on a chilly, rainy night. It wasn’t the first time Jian had gotten in. He’d just had a harder time blending with the partygoers that night: waterlogged and shivering, too exhausted to even talk, sitting by himself on a leather couch near the bathrooms. His clothes were damp, leeching all the warmth from his small body, but even shedding his wet jacket didn’t feel like an option. He was convinced that the moment he slipped his scrawny, narrow shoulders free, his age would be made even more pathetically obvious than it already was. It was better to keep still and try to pretend that he wasn’t there at all.

Cal was on the floor that night, covering for a sick bartender. He’d wondered how he’d missed the obviously underaged kid’s entrance into his bar. It was a Tuesday night. Not very busy at all. Maybe it was the rain. The patio sat empty, everyone instead gathering inside and cluttering up Cal’s view of the front door.

Jian flinched when Cal approached him. He was a tall, hefty man, comfortably in his fifties. Though with age his ratio of muscle to fat had shifted, he still had an intensely intimidating power in his stature, especially from where Jian was sitting.

“Hey,” Cal said, with just a hint of the stern edge to his voice which he only fully put on for the handsy creeps and mean drunks.

Jian looked up at the man, numb in the face. He had nothing to say, and was too shocked with cold and fear to even try to squeak out a word.

Cal stood tall, unyielding. “You wanna show me some ID?”

Jian looked at his shoes, a lump growing in his throat. His head was too misty to comprehend much, but he understood enough to recognize he’d been caught, which meant that he had to find somewhere else to hide from the rain. He already couldn’t remember how many times this had happened that night. All he knew was that he didn’t want to go back to the shelter, but he was quickly running out of options. With stiff, freezing hands and a weak, trembling effort, he pushed himself off the sticky seat and started on his staggering trek to the exit.

Cal’s large hands stopped him, butting against his shoulders. Not grabbing. Jian couldn’t even muster any awareness of the act, just pushing his empty body against Cal’s hands like they were an invisible wall in a video game. Cal pushed back a little more firmly, and Jian’s feet tripped to a halt. He stood in place, blinking through confused sparks in his eyes, feeling lightheaded.

“Hold on, hold on. Hey,” Cal said, stooping down to meet Jian’s eyes, and, as twenty-something year old Jian suddenly realized with fondness, to shield him from the activity of the bar around them. “Do you need… Would you like something hot to drink? A warm meal, maybe? Someplace dry?”

Jian had no clue what his face was doing. He remembered his body as a hollow wooden vessel. Still, something must have come across in his silence, because Cal softened even more.

“Look, I don’t know your situation,” he said, squeezing Jian’s shoulder. “But I can tell enough that you need help. I have the means. Come on, honey.”

Cal started to usher Jian towards the bar, and a volatile switch flipped in Jian’s gut, instantly rubbing every inch of his skin raw and sucking the air from his lungs.

“No,” Jian managed in a desperate whisper, shrugging his way out of Cal’s hands and stumbling backwards a few feet before blinking the blind terror from his eyes and halfway remembering where he was. Cal’s hands hovered in a deliberately non-threatening airspace, allowing Jian to retreat as far as he needed.

“Okay,” Cal said quickly, in a peaceful, hushed tone. Jian’s focus still whipped around the bar, but Cal let that manic vigilance die down in its own time, keeping his own body still and distant. “Okay. You don’t have to. But I really don’t want to send you back out there, to who knows what, without at least getting you dried off. You can stay here, honey. You don’t have to go.”

The vividness of Jian’s memory drained to an uninviting mist. He knew that at some point he’d started to cry, and that Cal had led him with an open hand -- so broad it nearly spanned Jian’s entire waistline, at least in those days -- to a more secluded area behind the bar, where both Cal and the small kitchen crew could keep an eye on him while he ravenously devoured a warm plate of various bar staples and a few Casanova specialties. Jian remembered being offered an offensively sugary Shirley Temple in that same spot, but that may have been on another night.

Sometime later, a shift change freed Cal up to drag a second black painted chair over to Jian’s, where he’d been working on drying himself off with an only slightly ratty towel, having adamantly refused a change of clothes from Cal’s apartment above the bar.

“Hey there, kiddo. You feeling any better?”

Jian nodded sheepishly, embarrassed at all the drama he’d become the center of tonight, now that the terror had mostly passed. The heat from the crowd and the food had long since stilled his shivering, and an almost contented sleepiness was taking over instead, a feeling so unfamiliar that he was struggling to guard against it, finding himself nodding off every now and then. He’d been focusing his energy on staying upright in the chair, and was glad for Cal’s interruption.

“I’d like to have a little chat with you, if that’s okay,” Cal said, leaning forward in his seat to match Jian’s height. Jian visibly tensed, swallowing nervously and breaking eye contact. Cal’s voice only softened more. “Sweetheart, you’re not in any trouble with me. What’s your name, honey?”

When Jian only gulped again with considerably more effort, his eyebrows starting to knit with growing anxiety, Cal nodded thoughtfully.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

A rush of cool air flowed through Jian’s chest, relief unclenching his jaw before he’d even realized how tight he’d been squeezing it shut.

“I would like to know how old you are, though,” Cal continued lightly. “But don’t tell me that either. I want to guess. Flex my skills. Is that something the kids are saying today?”

One corner of Jian’s mouth lifted a bit.

“See, I’m out of the loop. This’ll be fun,” Cal said. “Hmm,” he hummed, one hand rubbing his chin as he made a show of scrutinizing Jian’s scrappy appearance. “I’ve got nieces in the eighth grade, but they’re all shorter than you. They definitely eat better, though.” Jian couldn’t help but chuckle silently under the heat of the spotlight, feeling himself becoming invested in the game, despite everything. “Fourteen, maybe? No, fifteen.” When Jian shook his head to both, Cal leaned back, worry overtaking his expression. “Oh, sweetheart, please don’t tell me I started too high. I don’t think I could handle it.”

Jian shook his head again, an easy smile finding its way onto his face. “Sixteen,” he said, his delicate voice all but confirming his answer.

Cal nodded, solemnity gently wafting away the air of humor that had eased them to this point. He leaned forward again, hands clasped in front of him, and looked into Jian’s eyes as he spoke. “It was a long time ago, but it was tough for me when I was that age, too. I can’t speak for your experience, honey, but I know what it’s like to feel alone in the world.”

His defenses down, Jian felt the words hit him square in his chest. Fear and apprehension prickled at the edges of the impact, but the crater was deep enough that genuine empathy was what struck Jian the most. He felt breathless and fragile as he listened, but he didn’t look away.

“I’ve seen some very good friends go down dark paths because of that feeling. And it’s hard to find your way back out. It’s hard out there, baby, I know. But no matter how lost you feel, you will never be unworthy of love, and safety, and peace. Do you understand me?”

Jian wasn’t sure that he did, but Cal spoke with such an urgency that Jian felt he should at least nod, though unease was building in his stomach again. Cal watched him with earnest conviction as he waited for Jian to answer, but Jian shied away from the intensity of it, breaking off eye contact and betraying the gnawing guilt he suddenly felt. Cal sighed, too softly to hear beneath the noise of the bar.

“I know that look, sweetheart. Your family?”

Jian hadn’t realized how obvious it could be. His stomach dropped and a flash of heat pushed tears behind his eyes as fresh wounds burst through their haphazard stitches. He could feel the metaphorical slam of the door all over again, the pain of his father’s violent and consummate rejection only compounded by the past year he’d spent trying to stitch himself back together without him. Failing miserably. He bit his cheek to keep the rest from spilling, and locked eyes with Cal to silently implore him to continue.

Cal didn’t falter. He wrapped Jian’s restlessly clenching fists between his warm hands and leaned in.

“There’s not a lot I can do to change the truly fucking awful things that happen in this world,” Cal said. “But what I can do is help lift some of the burdens that fall on us. You are welcome here, honey.” He accented this with a squeeze of Jian’s hands, then paused, blinked a few times, and made an undecided gesture with a tilt of his head. “Not in the bar, mind you.”

At the gentle chiding, Jian found himself laughing with him, vaguely relieved to be acknowledged as something other than a novelty or a criminal. Cal looked at him without hunger. Being the object of someone’s worry instead of their hatred or desire had faded to a memory from another world, and Jian didn’t know what to do with or even how to identify the bubbly feeling which sat high in his chest. The release of pressure set free a cold crop of tears that he had been clinging to. With grace, Cal let them fall without address.

“But any time it’s getting too heavy,” Cal continued, holding Jian’s hands tight, “if you’re ever hungry, tired, need someone to talk to, anything, you come to Casanova and you ask for Cal, okay? I mean it. We make our own families here.”

Jian nodded, with emphatic gratitude this time. His head felt too fuzzy and exhausted to really comprehend the mess of emotions that writhed and tangled inside him, like a rat’s nest of colorful yarn choking his heart, but the mess itself was colorful and soft, and that had to be enough for now. He took a steadying breath.

“My name’s Jian,” he said, feeling shy under the usually anonymizing glow of the blacklights. But Cal beamed.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Jian,” he said. “Now, the big questions: Do you have a place to stay tonight? Is there someone I can help you call, to let them know where you are?”

“No,” Jian said simply, and the scalding, mortified blush that would’ve normally flooded Jian’s entire face and neck just wasn’t there. Instead, Cal’s hands landed on his shoulders, blanketing him in steadiness and warmth without suffocating.

“Now you do, Jay. Now you do.’

From somewhere in the comfortable fog of Jian’s distant memory, Dickass Lee’s voice wormed back into his ears.

“Come here, Jay.”

Jian bristled.

“Ugh, yeah, no. No. I get it,” Dickass Lee said with a comically exaggerated shudder, mimicking the tension in his captive’s shoulders. “I’ll stick to ‘Jian.’”

[wakanai]

Red Flag Reblog Game (?) but also a rant lol.

in honour of 'cutting off' a friend I didn't like (not really cutting off but more like. being honest about how I feel and both of us mutually deciding to not be as close as before as a result),

let me make a list of my red flags.

Because this is the second time I've cut off a friend like this 😭

Okay here we go...

🚩 Gets drained easily. High need of alone time.

🚩 Seen zones and late replies. Does not like people who can't understand my seen zones and late replies even after I've explained to them this habit before hand.

🚩 Deletes messages. I delete messages and then send a new message when I feel like the OG message could have been better phrased. I delete messages randomly sometimes for other reasons too.

🚩 Does not like clingy people who need to talk to me or be with me 24/7. This friend I 'cut off' (ughh cut off isn't rlly the right word. maybe, 'demoted friendship'? IDK 😭. Yeah lets just call it DS).

This friend I DSed once followed me w the intentions of dropping me to my driver. I told her, "I feel like being alone right now."

She said "No." and continued following me so I ended up talking to her. It was a good convo but I didn't like that she didn't take me seriously.

Next day, she tried to follow me again but I said "No I'm serious" sternly and started walking fast away from her

🚩 Acts light hearted during confrontations. When I confront someone abt something they did that bothers me, I say it in a light tone as to not 'hurt' them too much. This leads to them sometimes not taking me seriously.

🚩 Good at pretending that everything's fine. In 2 of my friendships, I have ignored their grieviances against me until the point it piled up, I had harbored too much hidden dislike against them and the next time I confronted them abt it, it was when I was already cutting them off.

Both friendships were shocked and did not expect that I had harbored things against them

🚩 Sensitive. (not really a red flag but you know, the thing w my friend I just DSed - - she said she just had satirical humour. She told me (not actual words) , 'I told you many times not to take my words at face value. If you haven't learned that, then clearly you aren't learning.'

In truth, I did not find her 'humour' funny and I found the things she said to me while we were still friends extremely discouraging 😭

🚩 Does not say everything that's on my mind at times.

🚩 Not pushy. In some situations - you NEED to be pushy. I am bad at being pushy but every day is progress ig

🚩 Might be socially awkward <<sometimes>>

🚩 can be rough w friends sometimes. <<sometimes>> (never with ill intentions though!! I don't do it to hurt them, it's just my hands are kind of heavy ig 😭)

🚩 Not confident in self.

🚩 Does not talk much about myself.

🚩 procrastinator

🚩 Dense. Dense. Dense. Dense. Do not give me 'hints' about how you feel. I might not interpret them properly.

🚩 People get attached to me because I listen to them. In fact, I LIKE listening to them. If they're my friend, I comfort them and am there for them.

It's when they start hurting me that I start hating them.

As mentioned above, I have a tendency to tolerate A LOT before deciding I don't like them as my friend.

Since I tolerate a lot, and act normal,

They usually get caught off guard when I tell them my feelings.

By the time I explain that I dislike them and/or want to 'take a break' or 'cut them off' they get shocked and sad

because they've been sharing intimate things to me and now they're about to lose me.

A lot of times I'm the 'listener' friend or 'the therapist' friend.

If I had to put it in words, sometimes I'm a machine that absorbs the rants and troubles of other people and gives them comfort. I use the word 'machine' because to SOME people (some not all) - I feel like a tool that they use when they need to express their emotions. Just a tool. Nothing more. They don't treat me well.

When I dislike the person, that machine runs out of battery and suddenly dies. But while it's still alive, this machine may not give a sign that it's running out of battery.

So the person continues hurting it and using it. And it suddenly dies on the person.

So the person is left feeling sad, confused, angry, and maybe regretful..but they probably understand. because the machine gives them an explanation.

If they don't understand, not my problem 😭

Yeah I think that's all my red flags. IDK.

Another thing

I guess it would be interesting and fun to see other people reblog this with their own red flags. So if u want to, feel free. feel free to rant ur experiences as well ig.

[saprophetic]

mutuals like this if you want the url to my Extra Personal blog

[hxperion]

//thinking about how Jack always has a negative effect on people that gets close to him in any capacity. At first would be his daughter who before the death of her mother seemed to have a good family bond with him, before he got overly protective, and started using her as a catalyst to charge the vault key and manipulate the vault hunters, which lead to her helping the vault hunters and got killed in the process. thinking about having financial control and life control over Timothy as Timothy was a person in debt with student loans, being his first doppelganger, and putting timothy into life dangerous situations either to prevent assassination attempts, or doing vault hunter missions for him. Not to mention the cut dialogue from the pre-sequel literally brands Timothy's face to match his vault hunter symbol. (Plus the 'and jill' skin you get at one point with the same scar as jack). But their whole subtle dynamic can be a whole meta post on its own. Thinking about in the tales from the borderlands, Hugo literally thought he meant something to Jack because Jack used him as a literal punching bag and often bullied him and singled him out . Plus his whole manipulation of Rhys and how Rhys story is literally him learning that Jack is truly a shitty person and that you shouldn't idolize your heroes nor should you be like them The only two characters that were close with Jack at one point and didn't physically or really emotionally get hurt by him was Moxxi, being able to see the man he really is even before he became that man fully, and Nisha who was equally as fucked up as him, if not more morally better in terms at least in borderlands two, treated those who are under her slightly better. but yet still had the same sadistic energy as him.(Albeit she was killed for being Jack's girlfriend as a way to piss him off, but their whole dynamic can be its own long meta post to) So overall, those who are interacting with Jack and got a close bond with him, either romantic, familiar, hateful, etc. will always be hurt in the end by him either physically, or mentally, his a character that always leaves a lasting impression on most characters especially those who are not strong-willed enough to call him out on his toxic bullshit, and stand their ground with him, but even then it depends because he is the type that will kill on a drop of a hat.

[metamelonisle]

imagine if i was more active and went into character tags and talked to people openly like a normal person and didn't just like. gingerly look at people and only reblog people through my friends and dashboardr

[thefourpointedstar]

hell yeah.

Reblog to give a trans woman a delicious Cuban sandwich

[goblinbugthing]

there’s this one person on here that i REALLY wanna be friends with but they have really bad anxiety and aren’t comfortable w/ people randomly reaching out and asking to be friends so im just gonna keep sending them asks every once in a while and leave nice tags on everything they post and HOPEFULLY they’ll follow me back at some point

[heyitslapis]

its times like this when i really wish i had an SO's shoulder to cry on

Because I think i factrued/sprained my foot the other day it happened wednesday but its still pretty swollen and pops when i try to walk on it without hobbling. i know i signed up for health insurance through work. i wrote down the insurance company name as Bayside and I have my personal insurance id number but the card never came in/got lost in the mail (and i already called for one replacement that never came so idk if theyll send me a third) so i cant confirm the insurance name nor call them, but i need to because ive called/visited 5 health care facilities around me and NONE of them have even heard of Bayside. So im calling the phone number that my manager provided me with telling me that was the insurance company. I keep calling the number (and mind you ive called them before to try to get a second insurance card sent to me but that was in like April) and i get that its saturday but theres no answer and the stupid automated machine wont let me leave a voicemail. the automated answering voice on the phone also says that theyre called National Benefit Plans by SafetyNet and google says the phone number im using belongs to National Benefit Plans out in San Antonio Tx (i live no where near there). I found National Benefit Plans' website on SafetyNetPlus dot com but National Benefit Plans doesnt have their own website, just through SafetyNet, and also the SafetyNet website says on a side panel that "this is NOT insurance" and instead keeps saying "health benefits" instead so idk what the fuck ive been paying for for the last 6 months tbh and im having an emotional breakdown bc i dont want to fuck my foot up for life just cause i couldnt figure out my health insurance/benefits shit

[tbaluver]

Hi ree 🤭

Can I request y/n flinching during an argument when the boys make a sudden movement. Give it a happy ending pls.

I'm craving some angst with fluff on the side.

Has to be served by u tho 😭🌹

Flinching During An Argument- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: slight angst with some fluff/ comfort ! a/n: HIHI TEE !! ily (∩˃o˂∩)♡ i hope this was okay and i hope i served and if not im soso sorry and this doesn't exist ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

It was your first argument with Xavier and you’d never seen this side of him. His usually warm, soft eyes narrow into a piercing glare, losing their usual kindness and sleepiness to it. You had always believed that you and Xavier would never argue, yet here you were, caught in a heated argument. Frustration had clouded both your minds, leaving both to forget what the initial problem even was. The emotional exhaustion was palpable and you both were weary from the conflict.

In an attempt to reconcile, Xavier reached out to pull you closer and offer an apology. His sudden gesture was unexpected and made you flinch. The movement was too abrupt, causing you a momentary surge of anxiety. You recoiled back slightly, your body tense.

His eyes widened in shock at your reaction. Instantly, he withdrew his arm, staring down at his hands as if they had betrayed him. Hurt and confusion on his face were palpable, as if he committed an offense. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, “I’m so sorry if I scared you. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

The frustration that had marked his earlier expression melted away and was replaced by the tender, sincere face you knew and loved. As your mind began to process the sudden shift and the context of his actions, you realized that his outstretched arm had been an attempt to offer comfort.

“I’m sorry you thought I’d hurt you,” Xavier says, his voice weighted with sincerity. “I promise I will never do that. I don’t know what I did to make you feel this way, but I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to be a better boyfriend.”

Seeing the genuine remorse in his eyes, you stepped forward closer to him, your heart aching for him. Gently, you cupped his cheek in your hand, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palm. “You’re not a bad boyfriend,” You reassured him, your voice soft and soothing. Xavier nuzzled into your hand, a small grateful small forming on his lips. "I know you would be the last person in this world to hurt me. It was just out of instinct, I’m sorry.”

The tension between you began to dissolve, bridging the gap that had formed during the argument. "Then let’s promise to never argue ever again,” He says, locking your eyes with yours. “I didn’t like it one bit.”

You nod with a soft smile as he reaches out to take your hand in his, holding it close. “We’ll find a better way to handle things. I love you too much to let anything come between us.” You both drew closer, wrapping each other in an embrace. He presses his lips gently on your forehead to remind you.

Zayne:

Zayne loves you very much. He may not always express it in words, but his actions always speak volumes and the way he takes care of you shows how deeply he cares. Most of your arguments tend to revolve around your wellbeing and the way you don't take care of yourself properly. When you're stubborn and brush off his concerns, it frustrates him further.

Tonight it seems like the frustration built up and Zayne who usually speaks with a gentle tone towards you, finds himself slightly raising his voice for the first time. It was out of a mix of desperation and concern for you. He raises his hand to fix the collar of his button up shirt. He tugs at the collar and tries to smooth it out, adjusting it. However, the sudden movement is mistaken by you in the heat of the moment. Seeing Zayne’s hand come up, your heart skips a beat and a rush of panic comes through you. At the moment, the gesture felt threatening as if he was trying to strike you. But deep down you know Zayne would never hurt you but rather the fear of the unknown makes you flinch. You take a step back, your eyes wide and your body tense.

Zayne notices your reaction and his face falls. The realization of his innocent gesture was misinterpreted and hits him like a wave. His throat tightens and he struggles to find the right words as he tries to reassure you. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” His hand lowers and he swallows hard. His eyes were a mix of regret and exhaustion. The tension in his gaze is palpable, clear even without words. “I’m sorry,” He says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I was just fixing my collar. I would never hurt you. Please, don’t think that. Forgive me my love.” His eyes lock onto yours, pleading for you to see the truth in his expression.

You can see the pain in his eyes, his usually composed demeanor has cracked under the weight of your misinterpretation. The fear in your chest slowly begins to disappear as you recognize his genuine remorse and the depth of his feelings.

As you speak, your body relaxes. "I'm sorry. I don't really know why I did that" You admit, letting out a sigh. You blink a few times, trying to prevent the tears that threaten to spill.

Zayne watches you with a soft, concerned look. He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you. "May I?-"

You nod, and he closes the distance between you, enveloping you in his arms. He pulls you in a little tighter, his hands resting soothingly on your back.

"It's alright you do not have to know." He sighs, pressing a kiss at the top of your head as he rubs soothing circles on your back. "I promise you, I would never do such a thing. Please let me make it right my love."

Rafayel:

Usually your arguments were nothing more than just playful banter, something that was brushed off with laughter. But today, something was different about this argument. The conversation escalated into a heated argument, with both of you frustrated. The words you threw at each other were sharper, the silence afterward heavier.

Rafayel’s hands lifted to ruffle his hair out of frustration but it seemed to heighten the tension. You backed away, closing your eyes and turning your head, trying to shield yourself from a possible hit or a burn.

Seeing your reaction, Rafayel’s expression immediately softened. His hand dropped to his sides, and felt the sting of regret and concern pierce through his frustrations. He realized the impact of his actions so he steps forward with a sense of urgency, his heart pounding with a mix of worry and desperation. Without hesitation, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you to reassure his need for you.

You nestled into his chest but your body remained tense from the argument’s intensity. “Cutie…You know I would never hurt you, right?” His voice was a mix of hurt and worry, trembling slightly as if his worst nightmare came true—losing you again. The thought of having you scared of him, after losing you once before, made him desperate to keep you in his embrace to prevent you from ever leaving him ever again.

He gently pulls away, his hands cupping your face with tenderness. His fingers stroked your cheeks softly and his gaze filled with a mixture of relief as he saw you relax against him. “You don't need to be scared,” He murmured, “I’m here to protect you. I promise I'll make it up to you.” The sincerity in his eyes and the gentle caress of his hands were a silent vow to ensure you felt safe and loved.

Later on that day he apologized in Glubglubnese, Popoposh, and Blublublun to start off by making it up to you.

Sylus:

You and Sylus had your fair share of arguments and you both always managed to talk things through and reach a compromise. This time, however, this disagreement delta relentless back-and forth that seemed to stretch on forever.

His scowl and the tone in his voice was unsettling. The room fell into an uneasy silence until Sylus brought a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples. At that moment, you made a mistake. To his hand raised, you flinched, fearing it was to use his evol on you or something worse. 

Instinctively, you crouched down and shielded yourself with your arms, overwhelmed by a wave of shame and fear. You knew deep down that he would never hurt you, but your  reflexes were too strong to ignore. With your face hidden, you missed the hurt and regret that clouded Sylus’s eyes. He took a deep breath, his voice softening as he stepped closer to you.

“Sweetie….” He says, his tone filled with sorrow. “Please, look at me.”

When you finally dared to meet his gaze, the intimidation was gone. He crouched down to your level, his expression soft and tender. He reached out, gently cupping your face and tucking a stray hair behind your ear. He sighed in relief knowing you didn’t flinch this time when he approached you.

“I would never hurt you,” He extends his hand, helping you up to your feet. As you stood, he pulled you into a heartfelt embrace. “How could I ever do that to someone I love so deeply? I would never forgive myself.” You rested your head against his chest and the familiar scent of him enveloped you, soothing your nerves. Sylus’s hands moved gently through your hair and traced comforting circles on your back that offered a silent apology and reassurance. In that moment, the argument was forgotten and replaced of a sense of tenderness.