#need some topic to ramble about on here... it's been too quiet i need to write an essay

[risingsunresistance]

want to speak my mind on some random discourse that happened my way but i am a brave boy i will not breathe a word it will stay on priv 🙏

[knottedhearts]

Argument: M.S

Summary: You and Matt are arguing because he's being awfully loud, and you're on your period.

The evening had started off fine. You’d both been sitting in the living room, enjoying a quiet night in. But that peace quickly shattered as Matt’s loud voice carried through the room like a sledgehammer. He’d been talking non-stop about some random topic, laughing at his own jokes and rambling without noticing how overwhelming it was. You were curled up on the couch, trying to get comfortable despite the aching cramps that came with your period. You wanted nothing more than to curl up and zone out to a movie or even just close your eyes for a few minutes of silence.

But Matt’s energy was impossible to ignore. His laughter echoed off the walls, and his voice cut through the air with each sentence. It didn’t matter how much you tried to focus on the TV screen or ignore the noise—it felt like his presence was all-consuming, drowning you in sound.

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, your lower back aching, your abdomen throbbing. Every movement made the cramps feel worse, and the constant noise made it harder to focus on anything but the pain.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You turned to him, your voice tight with frustration. "Matt, can you keep it down?"

Matt didn’t seem to hear you at first, his energy undeterred by your quiet request. He was too caught up in his own story, too wrapped up in whatever had him so animated. "No, seriously, man, I’m telling you," he laughed loudly, his voice rising as he explained some ridiculous anecdote.

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your cool. "Matt," you said again, this time louder, but with an edge to it. "I’m not feeling good. I’m on my period, and I have cramps. Can you just… lower your voice a little?"

Matt paused mid-sentence, finally catching your tone, but he didn’t seem to understand the seriousness of it. He shrugged, not noticing how you were holding your stomach, trying to soothe the pain. "What’s the big deal? I’m just talking."

You stared at him, the irritation bubbling up like a volcano. "The big deal, Matt, is that I’m literally cramping in pain, and you’re yelling like you’re hosting a damn podcast! Can you show a little consideration?"

He frowned, clearly taken aback. "It’s not like I’m yelling at you. I’m just talking loud because that’s how I talk, alright? You’re the one overreacting."

You could feel the frustration rising, the way the tension in your body was making everything worse. It was hard enough dealing with your physical pain, but now Matt was being dismissive of your need for quiet.

"Overreacting?" you scoffed, shaking your head. "Matt, I’m literally sitting here in pain, trying to get through this, and all you can do is talk at full volume like it’s a damn comedy show. It’s not about how you talk—it's about you being completely unaware of how you're affecting everyone else in the room!"

Matt’s expression turned defensive, his eyes narrowing. "You seriously want me to apologize for how I talk?" His tone was rising now, getting sharp. "I’m not gonna start whispering just because you’re uncomfortable. That’s not my fault."

You felt your jaw tighten, your hands balling into fists. "It’s not about whispering, Matt! It’s about being mindful of the people around you! You never think about how your loud, obnoxious voice affects others. It’s like you don’t even care!"

Matt didn’t back down. "I care! I’m not trying to piss you off. I’m just being me, alright?"

"Being you?" You could feel your patience snapping, the frustration boiling over. "Being you isn’t the problem, Matt. The problem is that you can’t be bothered to understand that people need quiet sometimes, and right now, I need some damn quiet!"

The words hit him harder than you expected. He took a step back, his eyes flashing with irritation. "You think I don’t understand? You think I don’t know you’re having a rough time? But that doesn’t mean I have to change everything about me just to suit you!"

You stood up then, pacing for a moment, the cramps flaring up as you moved, but the anger took over. "I’m not asking you to change yourself, Matt, I’m asking you to be aware of other people’s needs for once. Is that too much to ask?"

"Yeah, it’s too much!" Matt shot back, his voice louder than ever. "I’m not gonna sit here and apologize for talking! Just because you’re dealing with something doesn’t mean I have to tiptoe around you like you’re fragile!"

You felt the tension in the room growing thicker, your chest tightening with frustration. "I’m not fragile, Matt," you said, your voice wavering with a mix of anger and exhaustion. "I just need some goddamn peace. Can you give me that?"

But Matt wasn’t backing down. His voice was cold now, defensive, as though he couldn’t understand why this was such a big deal. "You think I’m just gonna stop being myself because you’re having a bad day? That’s not how it works."

The words felt like a slap, and you finally snapped. "You know what, Matt? Maybe you should just leave me the hell alone!" You threw your hands up in frustration, the weight of the argument crashing down on you.

Matt’s face reddened with anger, his hands clenched into fists. "Fine! You want me to leave you alone? Maybe you should just deal with it yourself, then!"

His words stung, and before you could even react, you spun on your heel and started walking away. "Where are you going?" Matt called after you, but you didn’t stop, walking straight toward the door.

You grabbed your jacket, throwing it on as you walked out of the room, trying to push away the wave of frustration that threatened to overwhelm you. "I need space," you muttered under your breath. You didn’t even know where you were going at first, just wanting to escape, to get away from the noise and the tension.

"Wait," Matt said, his voice softer now, but you didn’t turn around. "I didn’t mean it like that," he called after you, but you kept walking, your heart pounding in your chest.

You didn’t want to hear apologies right then, not after everything that had been said. You just needed a moment alone, away from the noise, away from the confrontation. You didn’t know when or how the two of you would work through this, but right now, all you could focus on was finding some peace.

You didn't know how long you'd need, but you were sure of one thing—until Matt could truly understand the importance of being considerate, the fighting, the noise, and the misunderstandings weren’t going to stop.

[jolalibrary]

voicemails

frankie morales x f!reader

do we drabble on sundays? is this what we do? well, anyway, here’s some soft sunday fluff. no warnings: except fluff and sweetness and lovely softness. dedicated to @msjarvis who didn't ask for this but I’m giving anyway.

JUST THINKING ABOUT HOW THE TWO OF YOU BEGIN LEAVING VOICE NOTES FOR ONE ANOTHER. It started one time when life took one of you away from the other—the bed you share and the walls you laugh inside of are lonely without the pair of you together. Because it all feels vaster, quieter.

Then it became a thing. A make-do measure, a thing both of you grew to need first thing in the morning and last thing at night. A habit. A tradition. The day not beginning or ending without it.

It quickly becomes a comfort, a thing that brings the both of you joy, happiness—in the same way the scent of your shampoo does for him and how when he’s alone he leans closer to your pillow because it lingers and he consumes as much of it as he can to trick himself he’s not lay in bed alone.

Your voice in the morning makes up for the fact your mug isn’t left on the side or in the sink, all used. Because he hates it when he wakes and finds it in the cupboard, where he put it last night, it rumbling through him and making his chest clench.

There’s a list of things he misses when you’re not home, and if he begins, he isn’t sure he’ll ever stop.

Frankie supposes you’ll have your own list. An itinerary of things you miss about him when he’s out of town. Sometimes you share them, let them slip out and mumble them down the phone when you’re pacing, unsure what to do when he’s not home. It makes his heart squeeze in his chest, all tight, especially when he hears you doing mundane things he usually gets to watch you do, like cook or make a drink.

It’s why he likes the voice notes. Likes being a part of your day even if he’s not there. Has the chance to listen to them on his drive or when he’s brushing his teeth—pretending, even in hotel rooms—that you’re closer than you are. Staring at your contact photo as you say those three words, I miss you.

The voice notes range in topic. Sometimes they’re about your day, about the fucker you work with that he’d love to break the nose off; sometimes they’re a ramble about your breakfast, interspersed with a minor rant about something. Odd times they’re about dinner, hearing you move things in the refrigerator before you confess you’ll order and leave him leftovers.

He has his favourites, a handful of ones he’ll listen to on days where he needs more sunshine. One is the day you tripped, again, over his toolbox. An odd choice, he knows. It beginning all high-pitched, voice tinged in venom and anger:

“Francisco Morales, if you leave your toolbox in the hallway one more time—“

Then it was doused in sweetness, absolute honey, and it wasa exhilarating to fucking listen to.

“—Oh, you washed up. Oh, baby. Well, shit—Frankie, I love you okay? Just put your damn tools away.”

But the one he has saved is one where you’ve tired, exhausted—brain having kept you awake and every noise in the house doing something to make the shadows seem more dangerous than they were. You’re babbling, eyes likely closed, voice just reeling off the things your brain is thinking—no filter, no barrier between thought and tongue.

“—and baby, even though I’ve been sleeping in your clothes, I miss you. ‘Cause you make me happy—so happy, you know that? You have to. Tell you a lot. The bed does feel super weird without you. It’s really cold, and big—like too big. I turned the thermostat up, I know, I know, I’ll turn it down. Oh, and baby, I saw sprinkles moonwalk again on the fence. I did try to record it—but, you know me, I’m clumsy, chipped my phone. Don’t be mad. Please. I know you won’t cause you’re good, kind, nice—god you makemehappy. So tired. Justwanttosleep, you know?—“

He remembers driving back through the night the following day—slipping in, quiet as a mouse. Old training came in handy as he slid out of his boots and cautiously placed his keys.

Frankie managed to miss the floorboard he needs to fix, the one that usually gives him away—and even remembered to not use the light in the bathroom. His last test had been the bed, somehow managing to get in with precision, even roll you closer without waking you.

It’s worth it, all the time away—the voice notes in between—for the life he’s able to build with you and the look he wakes to in the morning.

A thing he thinks each time.

Because you look at him like he solved every problem wrong in your world; you look at him like he makes the impossible, possible.

And, after all he’s been through, he’d been sure that ship had more than sailed. That his chance had gone, faded, slipped through his fingers like water or dust.

But here you are. Your voice filling his ear in real time, whispering a good morning, if he had a safe drive—and he’s full of gratitude all over again. As he is every time he gets to hear your voice—in person or through the phone.

an: sometimes, voice notes are just the best, right? I also love voice mails, and all voice related things.

[zigrethsnotebook]

I must warn you: you have a dangerous effect on my heartrate.

Ford x Reader

words: 1,807

tags: sfw, fluff, talk about the supernatural

The rain pelted down as you stared out the window in Greasy's Diner. It was just your luck that the weather turned the way it did when you were in the middle of nowhere. You sighed and took a sip of the hot chocolate the waitress had brought you. At least something to cheer you up.

You eyed the rain angrily when the man in the booth in front of you spoke up. Quite loudly, too, or you wouldn't have heard him over the rain. "The weather is only going to get worse, you know? The forecast predicted a thunderstorm from now until tomorrow." You groaned at that and slouched further into your seat as a nigh cinematic thunder shook the diner.

The man seemed amused. "What brings you to Gravity Falls anyway?" He half shouted through the diner at this point. "A thunderstorm, apparently," you grumbled, more to yourself than him, and also far too quiet for him to hear. He stared at you so you said, louder this time: "I was supposed to meet some friends at a convention on the supernatural tonight. Only about 50 Miles north from here."

The man's eyes lit up at the mention of the supernatural. "That sounds exciting! Sorry, that you won't make it there tonight." You gave him an appreciative nod. You were already annoyed at the shouting.

The man looked down to the cup in his hand for a moment, then looked back up at you, opened his mouth and closed it again before looking out the window as well. After a few moments he had gathered enough courage to speak to you again.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

You kind of did mind. The weather had ruined your day and you weren't exactly in the mood for small talk. Then again, with nothing to do you were already starting to get bored. Maybe he could help you find a place to stay the night if it really doesn't get better out there.

You gestured to the seat in front of you, inviting him into your booth. He smiled, grabbed his cup, walked the few steps he needed to reach you and placed his cup back down on your table as he sat down.

"Stanford Pines." He introduced himself, much quieter now, and held out his right hand for you to shake. You took it without taking your eyes off his face and introduced yourself as well. He raised one of his eyebrows, apparently amused again but you couldn't figure out why.

He had a handsome face, a strong chin, gray hair and glasses that had a little crack in them. You wondered why he hadn't replaced them.

"So... what kind of convention on the supernatural were you talking about? Something worth checking out?" Stanford smiled a genuine smile. You could feel yourself relax a little at that - so he wasn't trying to pick you up.

What a nice change of pace! These last couple months you had had many encounters with disgusting older men who thought they could lecture you on something they pretended to know more about than you. Like how the female body works and other such things.

No, this guy seemed actually interested in that convention. The convention you couldn't go to because of the storm. You sighed sadly and watched his expression fall as well. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you."

You gave a bitter "Ha." before actually answering. "Unless you are the cause for this storm there's nothing for you to worry about." You sighed again, starting to feel like you're being overdramatic.

"The convention is awesome. It's a yearly event, today would be the... 11th? Year for them. You see, I have a - maybe a little childish - fascination with the supernatural. And every year at that convention they gather all kinds of experts on the topic to talk about their findings. Last year they had that guy who took the photo of bigfoot! And those guys from Ghost Files!"

Stanford listened to you intendly with a small smile on his face as you continued to ramble about your favorite topic.

"I've been to that convention every year for the past 7 years. It's where I met one of my best friends in the world so it would even be special to me if it was terrible." You chuckled at yourself.

"Either way, they live in Canada and I obviously don't, so this is really the only time we see each other. And I mean, I will drive up there tomorrow after the storm settled and we'll still spend the next week together. But today is the opening of the convention - it goes on for 3 days by the way - and I'm just really bummed that I'll miss that."

You had sat upright for your explanation in excitement but slouched back into the seat at your last sentence.

Before Stanford could respond to your story the waitress showed up at your table again and topped off his coffee. "Oh, and another one of that drink, please." He pointed at your empty cup. Oh no, had you misjudged him?

"My, Mr. Pines! Barely leaves his house - but when he does...!" Before she turned to get your drink she winked at you. Or... you thought she did, it was a little hard to tell with one of her eyes constantly closed.

"You don't have to, you know?" You told him, gesturing to his cup and he immediately seemed to falter and blushed terribly. "Oh! Oh no, I wasn't suggesting... It's just. Very rare to find someone who is genuinely interested in the weird and supernatural! I just wanted to prolong our conversation."

The blush stayed on his cheeks as his eyes darted across the room and occasionally landed on you, looking for a reaction to his words. You chuckled. "Oh, I see. That's sweet of you." Maybe what the other men lacked were some manners and common sense.

The waitress set another hot chocolate down in front of you and you smiled at her and when she turned around you smiled at Stanford. After you took your first sip you decided to hear from him a little.

"So you said you like the weird and supernatural as well?" His face immediately lit up. "Yes! I've been studying the weird things happening in this town for years!" He pulled a notebook of some sort out of his coat pocket. It seemed fancy but really worn.

He presented it to you. It had a golden hand with the number 3 written on it on the cover. Something about it was a little off, but you couldn't put your finger on what. A lighting bolt lit up the sky for a second and moments later the diner shook again.

He started to flip through the notebook, talking fast and very enthused. Each page showed various creatures. Most of which sounded ridiculous, but some were more familiar to you - Gnomes, the Undead and so on.

By the time he had flipped through most of the book and explained lots of different things to you, you had each had three more cups of your respective drinks.

The book lay open in front of you as Stanford, or Ford as he later told you, downed his fourth cup. It was also getting late and you still had to find a place to spend the night, the diner would close up eventually.

You closed the notebook, signaling Ford that you would like to talk about something else now. Another thunder shook the tables as you instinctively put your hand over the golden hand on the book.

Just out of your line of sight, Ford blushed again while you realized what had felt off about that cover. The hand had an extra finger! You looked up at Stanford excitedly, and before you could even ask he held up his hands to you, showing off his extra fingers.

That fact did nothing to temper your excitement. How could it! "You are one of the creatures you study!" You had blurted it out without a second thought and quickly covered your mouth with your hands in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude." You told him in a tiny voice. He chuckled fondly. "Don't feel bad, I took it as a compliment! Very few people get excited when they see my hands. Most find them repulsive." He turned his hand around to look at it with a certain melancholy while he said that.

"Are you kidding me? Your hands are the highlight of my day!" Ford met your eyes when you spoke and you watched him blush at your words. Then you blushed as well. "I- I didn’t mean..." You trailed off, unsure how to talk yourself out of that one and instead looked out the window again. The rain was just the tiniest bit softer now.

You sighed and tried to change the subject. "You wouldn't know a nice place I could stay the night, would you?" Ford took his notebook and put it back in his coat. "Of course I do! You could stay at my place." You snapped back to face him, the blush still in full effect on your cheeks.

He didn’t falter this time. "Granted, the place is a little crowded right now, with my brother living there and our niece and nephew staying over for the summer... but they'll be happy to know I made a friend today! And also have someone else to get their minds off the storm."

Ford smiled that honest smile at you again. "Would that be alright with you?" How could you say no to that? Seriously, how?

You nodded and smiled at him. Seconds later he had paid for both of your drinks and led you out the door, both of you rushing to your car.

As you slowly and carefully drove into the woods under Ford's guidance he told you that he would set up a mattress for you in an empty storage room.

"Unless you want to sleep in a real bed, in which case you could sleep in mine, and I would take the couch there." You laughed. "Yeah! We could make a real slumber party out of it and tell ghoulish stories all night!"

Ford chuckled along. "We could do that, but I must warn you: you seem to have a dangerous effect on my heartrate. Unthinkable what would happen if you told me a ghost story."

As he said this you slowly parked your car in front of a wooden house. His house, apparently. "Are you sure that's me and not all the coffee you've been drinking?" You both laughed and then made your way through the rain once more.

Your friend won't believe a word of this tomorrow!

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ anon request: Hello, hello! Pleasure to meet thee!

Could I request Gepard, Blade, Dan Heng, and Jing Yuan with an s/o who loves writing stories about them because they think they're (the boys) are the most magical person in the world?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Hello there! Absolutely! I mostly just wrote it for their adventures but for everyone except Gepard and Jing Yuan I also tried including some past lifes... I dunno much about those two past but uhh... hopefully it was still alright!

Now I'm realizing it's probably just Dan Heng's past life I kinda know, Blade's... well it appears here too?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ when it comes to Dan Heng, it's not often he rambles about his experiences so it all must've started with you asking him a bit here and there

✧ if you're not part of Express crew, it probably started with you asking about his adventures and naturally, he answered it with some more details, figuring you may not know how it is to adventure between planets like that

✧ if you are part of the Express tho, he'll still answer your worries but they most likely won't include as much details and there will be times when he just tells you to check it by yourself next time

"Jarilo VI is actually rather nice. You should join us next time we drop by there so you can see what's interesting for you yourself. Oh, but make sure you have some jacket, just in case."

✧ he isn't trying to be mean or anything, he just figures it's the best if you see it with your own two eyes instead

✧ tho after Luofu, he was also ready for you to ask a lot about his past life and his dragon form, so he was pretty much ready for most questions

✧ he's also rarely lying about anything, he may just keep quiet if he doesn't want to share anything but that's it

✧ you definitely will know about the basics of his past life and still only if you ask

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@miya-akane - come get your quiet but scary trabilazer!

✧ Gepard honestly doesn't mind telling you about things he've done and places he's been at but sometimes he needs to keep quiet...

✧ he does trust you but sometimes it's just better for your safety if he won't say anything, especially if you're curious by nature

✧ but if you're the type who'll instead check something out if you won't know everything... he sometimes tells you more than he was supposed to just so you won't get into troubles

✧ once he knows that you'll ask what he did every time he get's home after long adventure, he stops waiting for your question and immidietly tells you all he can once he sees you looking at him

"Eh... I can see it in your eyes. Let me at least change into more comfortable clothing and I'll tell you everything, okey?"

✧ he's honestly surprised how you're finding any of his stories enjoyable, all he does is protect the city, beat or catch some guys sometimes and train...

✧ there's really nothing more than that but you seem to see it as if he's knight of Belebog which often causes a blush to appear on his face, especially if you tell him this compliment in person

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ you and Jing Yuan often have your calm cafe dates or when you just drink tea at his place or even office!

✧ during your rambles, his adventures definitely were a topic and he most certainly took notice of how much you liked them

✧ since then, he'd often tell you about even smallest adventures just to see any reaction of yours, though his goal will always be your smile

✧ he've heard quite a titles and nicknames made for him but yours is definitely the cutest

✧ I mean, you're literally saying he's magical being! It's hard not to let out small chuckle at that

✧ just to be clear tho, he's not making fun of you thinking so, rather adores your way of thinking and makes it known

"Heh~ I've heard many titles but this one is something I can carry with pride. Thank you for assigning it to me, dearest."

✧ but nothing for free! In exchange for him telling you about his adventures, he also want's to hear a bit about you! And don't you dare tell him you're not as interesting because he won't let go

✧ he'll listen to any of your stories with soft smile, making sure you know he's listening carefully, interested in every bit of your past

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@miya-akane - come get your soft general~

✧ now Blade is someone who won't start babbling about himself so easily, in fact you'll have A LOT trouble getting smallest bit out of him

✧ what makes it worse, he's not using any excuses, he just tells you in the face that he won't waste time for somthing like that

"No. I'm not telling you anything that'll lead to you having even more questions. Now and ever."

✧ in the end, he has enough of your constant asking and tells you just a bit, makinig his story very brief, almost with no details but it's always first step!

✧ you might as well immidietly get to his past life because somehow, it's easier to convince him to talk about that than his last mission

✧ you literally have to lead him to the verge of bursting out with annoyence so he'll tell you anything you're interested in

✧ you better not ask too many questions at once or in one conversation or he'd quickly grow annoyed and go back to being unwilling at telling you anything

✧ and then you call him a big title? magical person? he doesn't show it but he actually appreciates the compliments and just maybe he'll tell you easier about his past if you continue to spoil his pride

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@vodka-glrl - come get your cold man!

[aihoshiino]

Hi there! This is from an ask from quite a while ago. I sent it before but I think Tumblr ate it once again.

"Honestly Ai's relationship with like, sex and intimacy and sex in the context of a loving relationship being healing and reclaiming for her is one of those things I have so much fun writing in the context of RP and stuff but if I continued rambling about it here I would go on all day lol and this post is already so long. IN ANOTHER ASK, PERHAPS ……."

I would like to hear your thoughts and ramblings about this please 人´∀｀)

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE ANON… I've been sitting on this ask for so long and I've had so many half finished responses to it written up kgjhhsfkg This is just one of those topics where I have so much to say every time I tried to start I got overwhelmed and didn't know where to start… BUT WE'RE SO BACK…!!!

(Also, this is basically part 2/a follow up to this post if anyone wants/needs some extra context)

Honestly Ai's relationship to sex and the role it plays in her character arc is one of the most fascinating parts of Oshi no Ko to me and I'm always really surprised that it basically never comes up in fandom discussions surrounding her? Part of that is just folks wanting to talk about/speculate more on the characters who are alive and present in the series (or have ship wars about them) but even when people DO go back and talk about her it tends to be kind of surface level or just, the worst takes you've ever seen in your life (if I never have to see another Secretly Evil Ai theory it will be too soon) but like… the sex stuff is also pretty surface level! That friction between Ai of B-Komachi's assumed obligate virginal purity and the reality of Ai Hoshino as a person who has had and desires sex basically IS the entire premise of the series. It's the core conflict around which so much of everything else revolves - it's the reason the twins have to keep quiet on their connection to her and moreover, it's the reason she dies. But honestly given how this fandom gets about sex sometimes maybe that's a blessing in disguise lol

It is SO refreshing to have a lead heroine like Ai, though - like I said, the reality of her as a person who has had Probably A Lot Of Sex is pretty much the premise of the series and at no point does the narrative ever take on a shaming tone towards her. Hell, the explicitly stated thesis of the story is that it's everyone who has a problem with this who should be ashamed. Gotanda literally says it himself - Ai's tragedy is the fault of the people who refused to accept her as the hurting, broken, dirty and impure person that the real her was.

In fact, the series is shockingly respectful of Ai and her body in general. This is very much a "the bar is in hell" moment but I'm so used to anime taking every opportunity it can get for lowbrow cumbrained fanservice that the series just being, like, normal about Ai was a breath of fresh fucking air. It's so easy to imagine an infinitely worse version of the series that uses Aqua's access to her body (as both Gorou and Aqua) to frame and leer at her in some really repulsive ways, but it literally never happens. It's one of those things the first chapter/episode does that earns it a lot of goodwill in the long run which it does honestly need lol. The initial premise of the series asks a lot of the viewer, especially given that Mushoku Tensei exists and very much does use the protagonist's plausibly deniable access to the bodies of women and girls around him for some truly putrid and degrading shit. BUT BACK TO MY ACTUAL POINT…

That pointed absence of shaming in the narrative is why it stands out to me so strongly when Ai does direct this kind of shaming language towards herself. Ai engages in a lot of negative self-talk in general because of how utterly pants her self-esteem is, but it's never quite as pointed as in these circumstances. Her death scene is honestly the best and most heartbreaking example of it - the anime trims a few slivers from it to the benefit of the scene as a whole imo, but it does retain the most important line:

But there's another part from slightly earlier on that didn't make it into the anime that equally breaks my heart:

All that Ai refutes of Ryosuke's words is his conclusion that she never cared about her fans. In other words, when Ryosuke slings slutshaming misogyny at her, Ai agrees with him.

And like… why wouldn't she? Society at large already has very strong opinions about women who have and enjoy sex and Ai is an idol - that's purity culture on Berserk Eclipse Difficulty. To make matters worse, Ai's entire life has been defined by her being denied the right to control her own body or being blamed for the way other people respond to it. Not only was Ayumi physically and emotionally abusive towards her for basically her whole life, but she also victim blamed her when her stepfather turned out to have a inappropriate interest in her. Even when she was literally a child, she was not allowed to simply exist without being subjected to other people's gaze and objectification.

It's also worth noting that the abuse Ai grew up experiencing - Ayumi's violence and neglect and living with the possibility of sexual assault at her stepfather's hands - are all things that can contribute to hypersexuality in puberty or at the very least, being prematurely sexually active and/or partaking in risky sexual behaviour and I think all of these are true for Ai as well, to varying degrees. My read has always been that the twins' father was not her first or only sexual partner (though he was her last) and I think this is something the work itself supports as well - Akane identifies Ai as having behavioral issues typical of someone who began having sex during puberty (and she does specifically say 'puberty' in Japanese, not just 'as a teen') but that this behaviour mostly tapered off by the time she was 15 and credits it by inference to Kamiki. So obviously, if the 'unbalanced behaviour' as the result of sex predates her meeting Kamiki… you know?

I also just personally find that a more compelling read of Ai for a variety of reasons - and it just sort of makes sense to me, to imagine her as this girl desperately trying to figure out how to love people, wanting to connect with people but not knowing how to do it, someone defined by the ways she contorts herself to respond to the dirty desires of the people around her… idk, it just feels Correct to me in light of everything to assume that she went through a few boyfriends before Kamiki, all relationships that went very fast, escalated to intimacy at light speed then just sort of fell apart after. And we know from what Ayumi admitted - and from some of the things Ai has said - that Ayumi absolutely was slutshaming and victim blaming Ai when she was in her care. So much of what Ayumi did to her forms the foundation of the present day Ai's self-loathing and self-image issues, so I imagine she felt a lot of prebaked guilt and shame when she did actually start having sex, especially at a young age and outside the bounds of a what society regards as an acceptable circumstance for a girl to be having sex. So add idol culture on top of all that, and…

I don't think Ai's relationship with sex is necessarily the main issue she struggles with but it does feed off and into a lot of the other things that cause her pain and being able to untangle that would represent an earthshattering breakthrough for her. This is why it's so important that Oshi no Ko never ones tries to debunk or disprove Ai's assertion that she is 'impure' or 'dirty' and why I do not think a positive character arc for her could never come from someone trying to convince her that she isn't. Because that doesn't actually disprove anything - it still frames purity and virginity as a state of grace that can be fallen from and reinforces Ai's view of herself that she only has value, that she only deserves to be treated with respect so long as she's still 'pure'. Even if you could convince her that she's 'pure', she would inevitably be stained again and hate herself all the more for it. The only way out is to break out of this method of thinking altogether, to realize that 'purity' and 'impurity' don't mean anything - and more importantly, that even though she is dirty, impure and all the rest of it, she is still capable and deserving of loving others and being loved in return.

To quote something I've said before on this topic: "Love, for Ai, is a person seeing her most wretched and unacceptable self, her self hate and avoidance and everything about her she thinks is filthy and wrong, and actively choosing to accept her as she is, warts and all. […] There's this very strong underlying current in Ai's arc of self-directed shame and self-hate in relation to her sexuality that fuels perception of herself as 'dirty' and 'impure' - all because she is a person who wants and enjoys sex. I really enjoy getting to have Ai work through that specific hangup with a partner who loves her - not from the angle of 'of course you're not dirty' but 'even if you are, I want you anyway'."

So much of what hurts Ai is other people refusing to accept 'Ai Hoshino' and even being actively repelled and repulsed by her, choosing instead to believe so fervently in the inhumanly perfect 'Ai of B-Komachi' that they convince themselves the real Ai is just a trick of the light. Sex is basically the ultimate refutation to that - it's someone saying they actively choose the dirty, broken real thing which is what Ai has desperately been searching for her entire life. It's also the inverse of the plastic. sanitized intimacy Ai sells as an idol - rather that pretty lies of love, it's dirty, physical intimacy, something she can do as much for herself as the person with her, something that can only ever be hers as Ai Hoshino because it's antithetical to everything Ai of B-Komachi is.

what i'm saying is: can this girl PLEASE get some good dick. i don't know how much of anything it would fix but it would make her calm down at least a little.

ALL JOKING ASIDE……. thank you again for your patience anon and i'm sorry this was so rambly lKNDKSCXSNDS. like i said up top, this is a topic i have a lot of thoughts on and i wanted to get them all out into this post. i hope this was interesting to read…!

[bennysmiller]

Sweet Nothing - Frankie Morales x Reader

You and the boys have a night in at Benny's place, and amongst the chaos during a movie night, you and Frankie manage to find some quiet.

"Beer?"

You look up from your place on the sofa to see Benny holding out a full bottle of beer.

Normally you'd accept, but alcohol made you sleepy and you had to keep your eyes open for the game of charades Santi had proposed to everyone five minutes earlier. You shook your head at Benny but offered a slight smile in return.

"You don't have to stay awake, doll. Always welcome to crash in my bed while we're all out here"

Benny knew. He always knew. But once again, you shook your head at his suggestion and promised him you were fine. But you weren't fine. You wanted nothing more to fall asleep in Benny's bed to the sound of your boys laughing in the front room. But you also wanted to be present. After their latest mission, you knew how important it was to spend as much time as possible together.

"Well, you know where it is if you need it." Said Benny, before moving on and offering the beer to his brother.

Ten minutes later, the game of charades had been abandoned and Santi decided to put a film on instead. You couldn't actually hear what was being said, because Benny and Santi were too busy arguing over what they thought was going to happen. Then Will joined in and you wished you had taken up Benny's offer to sleep instead.

You managed to get yourself up off of the sofa, and over to the kitchen for a glass of water. As you take sips, you can't help but stare at an equally tired Frankie. The way his curls poke out from under his cap, and the way his hand is resting underneath his shirt, just on his stomach. You began to wonder what it would feel like to put your hand there instead. Do it for him.

You mentally kicked yourself for thinking about Frankie like that. He'd been nothing but sweet and respectful to you since you had met. But every now and then, no matter how hard you tried to push them down, those thoughts would creep up.

"They're real fuckin stupid sometimes."

You looked up to see Frankie stood across from you with his hands on his hips. When did he get here? you thought to yourself. You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't see him get up.

You straightened up and put the glass down on the counter before agreeing with the man in front of you.

"I love them to bits but you're absolutely right." you said, earning a sigh from Frankie.

"I'm an old man now, just want peaceful nights in where I don't have to listen to a running commentary on whatever film we're trying to watch." He said, before taking his cap off and running a hand through his hair.

I could give you those kind of nights.

Before you realised what you had just said in your head, you jumped at the sound of a bottle smashing in the front room. Frankie rolled his eyes and chucked his cap on the table next to him.

"Too damn loud." He said, and ran a hand over his patchy beard. "Hey, you ever get those Taylor Swift tickets you wanted?"

You were about to turn around, but paused when he brought Taylor Swift up. It was something you had mentioned to him ages ago. You were both sat in a diner after a similar night with the guys, and needed to escape. So you sat and talked. All night. About anything and everything. You mentioned wanting to get tickets but didn't spend too long on the topic, so you went red when you realised Frankie truly was listening to you ramble on about them.

"Yeah, I did." You spoke quietly, but inside you were screaming. For so many beautiful reasons.

"Can I confess something? The night you mentioned those tickets, I went home and played a few of her songs. She's good."

"Seriously? You like her?" You asked excitedly. You wanted to die at the dimple that made an appearance on Frankie's face when he smiled at your enthusiasm that had suddenly shown up.

"Yeah," He chuckled. "You mentioned you loved Sweet Nothing. That's my song right now. I really am too soft for all of it."

He looked proud as fuck for slipping that lyric into the conversation, and also for how he'd clearly been studying your favourite artist.

You thought of the lyric outside they're push and shoving, you're in the kitchen humming and realised that perfectly described your situation with Frankie. Pure chaos in the front room with Santi, Benny, and Will, but the kitchen? You and Frankie found five minutes of peace in the kitchen. It was your place. You made the rules that night.

[whateveryouiguess]

idk if you take requests but!! i think reader and miguel getting a pet together would be super cute :> i wanna see mr anger issues calm down for once in his life cause of a cute puppy or something

HIII i’m still deciding if i wanna take requests but. i couldn’t NOT do this. like cmon. hope this does the trick anon 🫶🏼

el perro dinero.

Also known as: Miggy O’ Hara and his inability to tell you no ❤️

Pairing: Miguel O’ Hara x Reader

Word Count: abt 1.5k

Warnings: None :) just lots n lots of fluff, maybe improper grammar on the spanish (im not fluent yet, sorry native speakers. feel free to critique me!!!) Not beta’d, I tried to keep this one gender neutral, I don’t think I used any pronouns but if Y/N throws you off, I apologize :)

Sunday Afternoon.

“Absolutely not.” He didn’t even need a minute to think before the words left his lips.

“Miguel!” You draw out the syllables of his name in a whiny response. It was a decent question, honestly: the two of you had been together for a steady two years, going on three, and having just moved in together, the topic of “next steps” in your relationship was pretty fair game! Miguel had mentioned wanting a family before—very vaguely, but it was something you two had discussed—and it seemed like the present was a good time to make those kind of choices together. Despite his hope for your future together, he had been vehemently against the idea since you first brought it up, but you couldn’t understand why! Maybe he’d had bad experiences in the past, or he just wasn’t that kind of person? Or maybe he had an allergy you’d never heard about?

“Amor, we can not get a dog.” He slices open the tape seal of the box in front of him, leaning his elbows against the countertop as he unpacks it. “We’ve just moved in, rent here is already ludicrous…” he rambles as he unpacks thin stemmed wine glasses from the neatly packed box. You sit across from him at the bar, admiring the view of his messy hair and black wife beater against his amber skin, cheeks rosy from all the back and forth from moving vans. The love of your life—too stubborn to use a dolly, like you suggested—stacking empty boxes on the kitchen floor and using words like “ludicrous” to describe the best idea you’ve ever had. “Neither of us are home often enough to take care of a puppy-“

“We don’t have to get a puppy!” You suggest enthusiastically. He quirks an eyebrow and fights a smile at your excitement. “We’ll adopt a grown dog, maybe we’ll find one who’s already trained. You know, a lot of people forfeit perfectly behaved dogs just because they-“

“Amor.” He walks around the kitchen island to ground your shoulders with two big hands. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words are stolen by the pang in his heart at the disappointment in your eyes. The same eyes he’d spend hours gazing into without a care in the world, hearts full and minds at ease. The hopeful eyes he’d have to let down easy.

“We’re not…Not right now, honey.” His voice is kind and quiet, but to the point. “I’m sorry.” He squeezes your shoulders tightly as you sigh in disappointment. Walking back to his station by the sink, he slides a few glasses into the kitchen cabinet and continues speaking. “Possibly in a few months, if we’re stable enough and we have the time-“

“Really?” Your tone perks up immediately. His back shakes a bit, laughing at your excitement.

“Possibly. It’s possible. Don’t make any plans just yet.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head, walking towards your shared bedroom. “Póngase sus zapatos,” he pulls a light jacket on over his shoulders, sliding a pair of sunglasses onto the neckline of his tank top. “Let’s go find some lunch.”

————————————————————————

Friday Evening.

Since moving in with you, Miguel has quickly grown fond of the ends of his days. Taking his new route to his new home, hopping the steps up to the third floor two at a time. Mind exhausted from a long day at work, heart pulling his body through the hall to you, like a Looney Tune drawn euphorically to a pie in a window. The sound of the key twisting the lock mechanism is like a Pavlov bell, and before he’s even opened the door, he knows the treat of your arms is waiting for him behind it. This time, however, when he swings the mahogany door open, he’s not flooded with the soothing scent of your favorite candle, or pulled into your sweet embrace: he’s greeted with an empty living room, and darkness.

“Amor?” He calls out, toeing off his loafers at the door, placing his jacket over the back of the sofa. “Estás en casa?” He says quieter, padding through the house in search of you. All is quiet in the apartment until he reaches the shallow hall leading to your bedroom. His blood freezes at the faint sound of crying, high pitched and seemingly pained. Bounding to the door, footsteps heavy and shaken, he swings open the bedroom door to find you hunched over on the floor, and he can only imagine the worst has happened. Although, now that he’s closer the sound of the crying, its much more high pitched than he knows your voice to sound. When he hears you mumbling over the crying, he knows he’s severely misunderstood the situation.

“Honey?” he calls quietly. Your whip your neck around and see him standing in the doorway, concerned and disheveled in his work clothes. The sight of your red face kills him, you look as though you’ve been crying. His eyes travel to your lap and finds the source of all the noise, and his tightly knit eyebrows unravel in realization. In your lap sits a small, shivering puppy, whining as you try to wipe its eyes clean with a wet rag.

“I—I didn’t…” you stutter. With the conversation you two had been having a few days prior, you didn’t want it to seem like you’d gone against the decision you both had made . Miguel figured from the size of the pup that he couldn’t have been even a month old, and was almost certainly betrayed on the side of the road somewhere. On the streets at that age, it would’ve either been left for dead or found by someone soft hearted enough to give them a second chance. “He was all alone, he was hurt,” you sniffle as Miguel kneels beside you. “I know you said no, and I’m sorry, but I…” the desperation in your eyes is enough to make him wish he’d never denied you. “I couldn’t just leave him there.” You’ve started to cry, really cry, and even with the stress of the situation, he can’t help but curl his arms around your shoulders and hold you as tightly to him as he can. “I’m really sorry, baby.”

“Hey, no, amor. None of that.” Miguel rubs his palms up and down your arms to soothe you, careful to avoid the sad babe between your legs. “It’s…it’ll be okay. Alright? It’s okay.” He lets go of you and leans back to get a good look at the puppy. He was a little thing, no doubt the runt of his litter, but still a bit fluffy. His fur was matted and dark, the spots you’d wiped clean a few shades of brown lighter than the rest of him. Even with his staunch, no dog policy, the puppy’s floppy ears and pointed nose pulled gently on his heart strings. she watches intently as you siphon water into the little guys mouth, dabbing a drop onto your finger, then letting him lick it off. Miguel couldn’t help but smile at how the little thing preened under your touch, hoisting itself up into the palm of one of your hands, gathering more of your warmth. The love that radiates from your eyes is almost motherly, and he knows it’s love at first sight for you two. Leave it to his lover to help the lonely pup—a helpless wret in their time of need, no home to return to and no means to make anew. Left behind, forgotten, just in need of a little love. Sounds familiar, Miguel thinks to himself. The puppy wanders across your leg towards Miguel’s territory, and as soon as he presses a small paw onto his thigh, a switch is flipped for him, his hand shooting out to help the puppy climb. Mierda. He’s silent as he scoops the baby up with one hand, inspecting it like a broken package. The sweet little eyes peering back at him dismiss the perma-scowl on his face.

“He kinda looks like you, Mig.” You observe humorously, your perception of the strong, frightening man as “cute” still baffling to him. He scoffs out a laugh and sighs, gaze never leaving the puppy wriggling in his hands.

“How much is pet rent?” He says dryly. You snap your head towards him, a new hope awakened in your eyes. He pretends not to see it, smug as always.

“Are we keeping him?” You ask timidly. Miguel sets the dog back down between your legs, it’s stubby little tail wagging ferociously, shaking his entire rear, as if in understanding. Miguel smiles slightly as he repeats himself.

“How much is pet rent?”

.

.

.

THIS WAS FUNNN 🤭🤭 I imagined the puppy to be a norwegian elk hound but if you imagined something else, lmk in the comments!! im curious lol :)

[worldwide-simp]

Diary of the inferior

Scp x reader

(isn't really proof-read )

This is something I had written a few words of, stored in my drafts and didn't let it see the light of day (see what I did there hehe) for some time. But I have now finished it (kinda) and its certainly one of my longest pieces. 

(The first few entries are short and poorly written, but it becomes better after some time.)

warnings: gore, kinda pessimistic views, I hate Entry 1 with all my heart, false reality, violence, euthanasia, body horror, religious talk, death.

Scp 105 is post Omega-7, she’s 24 here.

Entry 1: New Beginnings

Dear Diary, 

Maybe I should’ve listened when people told me to never take strange job opportunities.  

I thought it was perfect, I was working in a shop on minimum wage, and I could barely afford simple life necessities.

I still had to pay off my student debt and that made life all the harder. When I saw this strange opportunity presented to me by a shady caucasian man, I believed that this would be my saving light. 

I wish I had been shot that day. A bullet mysteriously found its way into my skull. A news reported merely stated it was an accident; or running from that horrid officer only to “disappear” and never see the light of day again.

I just wish that death had claimed me as one of their countless victims before immortality and the infinite loop of time laid hands upon me.

—-

Entry 2: the flower of beloved Iris

Dear Diary, 

On my photo ID, there was my smiling face. It was a smile of pure joy. You could glance at it and call it cheeky if you dared. But I was merely innocent. Innocent as a human could be. 

After the photo had been taken, I was briefed on what I’d be doing. A rambling speech about the foundation's lack of care for qualified staff and instead people with logic and reasoning. 

That gave you a fighting chance, because how bad could this job be if you just needed a little logic?  I met a girl a few weeks later. I always wondered why she had that camera with her. Perhaps it had been a dear hobby of hers? 

I found out my presumption was wrong when she took a photograph of a flower in a vase some distance away, took the picture out and then proceeded to stick her hand in the image; giving me the flower after twirling it in her fingers. 

Iris seemed proud of making me joyful, I believed I laughed all night. I later placed the flower on my desk, and even after it wilted and its petals fragile and bleak; I still folded it into my pocket and to this day it still resides there. 

She was more on the quiet side but still gave me those sad smiles with dimples on her cheeks.  I had distinctively remembered wondering about the cause of those scars on her eyelid, jaw and hands.  — 

Entry 3: false reality

Dear Diary, 

I found out Iris was an anomaly; an Scp, if you wanted a more precise definition. This was told to me by a person higher on the foundation hierarchy for its staff. Not Iris herself. 

Was I slightly hurt? Yes. 

It had left me staring into a void, although I had seen her camera doing its magic. I must have created some false reality in my head that explained this bizarre situation. 

At the time, I was scrawling through my notebook with such vigour it was comparable to an inspired writer. I was not inspired in a awestriking way. Simply wanting to write about my trepidations concerning this topic and send the letter to me in a shitty way of making myself laugh.

(Mind you, if you too were stuck as a lab assistant watching sentient doughnuts bite people, you almost certainly develop terrible humour.)

—

Entry 4: the beginning of the end

Dear Diary, 

Something strange had occurred.

I had been assigned a mission. Naturally I was confused. Lab assistants being assigned things other than cleaning up the blood after cross-testings? It was something I found most peculiar. 

They, (foundation staff),had suited me up in some strange black equipment, handed me a gun and pushed me over to some people waiting inside a black van.

I don't even have a formal qualification to handle a gun; I had screamed. Why would this be happening? I remember saying that to myself. over and over again.

A pathetic mantra that I so feebly considered answered by the many voices in my head. I cried. Then I wiped the liquid with my hand; I had refused the notion that I was a weak, feeble creature hiding the true meaning of my nature. 

When I really was just that. 

All those other people had kept their heads down, mindlessly fidgeting with their hands or drumming their fingers nervously on the knee. I merely stared at the wall, already feeling the sensation of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. 

I didn't know them, and at this rate; I would never.

—

Entry 5: pathetic chess games

Dear diary, 

They had gotten off the van, dressed in full tactical gear and shivering with a dreadful fear. This situation felt wrong and I memorized the look of someone who knew too much. It was in a puddle of water. It was my face.

Perhaps I was seeing the foreshadows of fate that dangled right in front of my eyes. But I saw nothing, heard nothing and knew nothing. This was all one of the many cruel games the foundation played, killing people as if they were mere chess pieces. 

All just to win to the game, only for another to proceed after that.

—

Entry 6: the majority and the minority

Dear Diary, 

 Scp-001 S. D. Locke’s proposal is one of the many 001 proposals that exist: detailing the sun becoming a hostile being that eradicates human beings, converts them into sentient piles of flesh which aim to find unconverted humans and drag them into the sunlight, for them too to become those hideous masses of skin. 

The scenario occurred in my timeline, at first I didn't know what was happening, only that the other staff members had screamed about the light being good and holy before I heard the most awful noises.

It squelched, moaned and cried. I suppressed gags and muffled my mouth with a cloth. What the fuck was happening? Where had they all gone? Why do they sound not human anymore?

I had ran out from the cover of the van to shield under the safety of a building, not before looking back and laying my eyes upon a horror of flesh melting away under the rays of the hostile sun, dragging its amorphous clumps of bodies towards me. 

They had once been human like myself. I had only saved myself but not them. I should go join them to redeem myself to the judging light and have my sins cleansed. I was a wretched human not worthy of being alive. 

I kept on running, determined to never let the sun touch my skin ever again. I had slammed the door of the building. It was desolate and empty. When I’d step on the ground too hard, I could hear the echoes of the impact.

The was a distinctive waft of bleach, specifically chlorine that reminded me of swimming pools. There was a lack of furnacing; which reminisced the not-so-distant memory of my office. I took shallow breaths, slumping down to the ground and rubbing a sore ligament. 

This was a weak thing a human could do, but I sobbed. I cried and cried until I felt like everything went numb. But it cleared my mind slightly, feeling less like a suffocating cloth and more so like a haze of cloud. 

I felt around in my breast pocket, closing my fingers around a packet and tearing it off and chewed on the granola bar slowly. My mouth felt dry and my throat burned, however, despite the lack of comfort, I still ate. 

I pondered on what I could do. Could I stay here and call for backup or try to find someone who was still alive? 

I sighed, then fiddled with the packet from the granola bar. Was I at fault for my comrades being turned into those abominations of flesh? I could've saved them; told them to stay inside the van and that I’d go out and check. It would’ve resulted in my death, but wasn't appeasing the majority a more important factor than the minority? 

—

Entry 7: The silence of the lamb

Dear Diary,  

I had a radio that I had snatched last minute from the van before dashing off. I had tried reaching out to anyone I could. But there was only silence.

—

Entry 8: Nihilism

Dear Diary, 

I had successfully contacted a person without being disoriented by loud static. I heard heavy breathing, it was loud and quite alarming. There was a persistent sloshing of liquid in the background. It was quiet for a few seconds; eerily quiet. Before someone spoke. 

“You are alone. You will stay forever alone if you do not accept the beautiful light. Go outside.” 

I threw the radio to a corner of the room, and it broke into several pieces. The voice didn't sound human anymore, it was distorted with an otherworldly passion. I was so blinded by the anger that had irrationally consumed me for a second I broke my only means of communication.  

Maybe I would be truly alone if I didn't go outside.

There was nothing to live for anymore.

—

Entry 9: kiss away the gore

Dear Diary, 

If loneliness was the way I would die, perhaps it would be better to perish in the sun than of hunger and the echoing quiet. I lived in cowardliness and fear. I can be free where I belong. 

I opened the door I had blocked two days ago. Such a feeble mind, but I had found revelation.  I will cleanse my body of this impurity, harbouring sins and the devil's hands caressing my skin. 

I will burn it all away. 

This was the only way I would be accepted, then I’d find peace. 

I stepped into the sunlight and stared at the scarlet sun's beauty. I felt my skin being pulled apart, melting into a puddle of goo, bones liquefying and a boiling feeling. My human mouth shrieked, but that was insignificant. My fingers merged together before becoming a singular stump and my body was crafted new.

There was an agony I couldn't describe in words. No matter how many times I may rip out this page and rewrite it countless times, no work of poetry could ever shed light on the feeling. 

My body was crafted pristine, I now moved surprisingly fast. The puddle of goo had moulded itself into the body of my absolute nature. I sought new flesh. That I would bind myself to another pure being. 

Later, I stumbled across a facility devoid of people, there were only pools of blood on the floor. The once pure white walls had undertones of fleshy colours. If I were still human, I would've gagged at the goriness of it all.

But I didn't, instead I lurked deeper into the building. A net ensnared my body all of a sudden, and I choked out a throaty snarl. A familiar figure loomed over me, with a knife poised at my throat. 

I gnashed my fleshy teeth together, reaching out to capture this impure human and bring it to the light. But the creases under their eyes faded, tossed the knife to the side and removed the netting. 

What was this revolting human doing-

I was engulfed in an embrace, a hand of theirs resting on the small of my back and the other placed upon my throat, pushing it back. Almost as if it was endeavouring for me not to rip out their face.

“I can't believe something like this could happen to such a beautiful person like you.” They murmured, gripping my body tighter like I would dissolve into ash at any moment. My jaw snapped abruptly and they hushed me. 

I heard the shuffling of fabric. Cool metal grazed my face before I heard them speak again; “It must be painful for you, I’ll shoot you so you can rest peacefully.” 

Then they squeezed my back with such gentleness it would be hard to imagine that someone like this would shoot me. 

The last things I felt were the soft fluttering of my dead heart, a soft kiss on the lips and seeing their appearance one more time. Admiring their shortly cut blond hair, scars adorning their face and cerulean blue eyes. 

Those beloved dimples showed as they smiled so miserably at the prospect of being alone once again. But this was for your sake. 

“Wait-”

She pulled the trigger. 

And you saw nothing. 

[comfort-writing]

Crayons and Cassettes

Chapter 12: Girls Day

You are a kindergarten teacher. Eddie’s daughter, Sage, is in your class. The rumor mill around Hawkins begins to spiral. Sage goes to the movies.

warnings: this fic is 18+ in previous and future chapters- minors DNI!! no use of y/n. (please let me know if I missed anything)

a/n: sorry for not updating yesterday- I wanted to take a little break. I hope this longer fluffy chapter makes up for it. let me know in the comments or my asks if you want to be added to the tag list! requests are open!

word count: 5.2k

Chapter 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 (coming soon!)

When you got a phone call from Robin asking if you wanted to hang out with her, you immediately took her up on her offer.

You were really looking forward to just having some one on time time with a friend. Although you’d definitely been welcomed into the little group, having an invitation to just hang out one on one made you feel like you really belonged.

Robin came over and watched you do your makeup, watching carefully so she could try to replicate parts of it. You taught her how to do the eyeliner look she liked too; there was a small mishap, however, it was nothing a makeup wipe and a little concealer couldn’t fix.

Once you were ready, the two of you piled into her car and she drove you into town. You stopped at some diner, a place called Benny’s, and the two of you squeezed into a booth that had probably seen better days.

“What have you been up to since I saw you at Steve’s?” You asked her, curious to know if anything exciting happened.

She shrugged, “Well, not much. I mainly did laundry and worked. But,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper after scanning the restaurant to see if anyone was listening, “a new girl started at work, and oh my god, she is so pretty.” She smiled.

You raised an eyebrow, “Ooh.. do you think she’s…?” You asked.

“I don’t know- that’s the problem. She just moved here from Chicago. Said she and her” she added air quotes, “‘partner’ broke up and she needed a change of scenery. Why she moved here I literally cannot fathom, but I don’t know.”

“Hey, I moved here for the exact same reason. It’s a good place- not expensive, plenty of jobs.. but that’s beside the point.” You rambled, “Did she like, say partner in a casual way, or like she was trying to not say another word?” You asked, leaning in and keeping your voices quiet.

“I-“ Robin was quickly interrupted by a scrawny high school age kid who wore the Benny’s uniform, asking what you guys wanted to order.

Once he was out of earshot, Robin leaned back in and whispered, “Like I said, I really don’t know. But she totally has a vibe about her.”

“A vibe?” You asked, a little confused.

“Yeah, dude.” She chuckled, “Like, she has a septum piercing and streaks of pink in her hair. I mean, you’ve at least got to break a few social norms to do that.”

You considered it for a moment, “Yeah, I guess so. But listen, I don’t want you to get your hopes up too much.” You said quietly. “I don’t want you to get hurt- emotionally or physically.”

She nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be careful. You forget I’ve been doing this for a while.” She chuckled. Robin had grown out of her awkwardness a bit as she’d aged, though there were definitely still traces of it in the way she would talk to loud when she was excited or would say something a little off topic because her mind ran faster than her mouth. It was endearing, though.

The teenager came back with your drinks; you’d ordered both ordered waters as well as milkshakes. You played it safe and got cookies and cream, while Robin ordered some strawberry-blueberry-chocolate-banana-peanut butter monstrosity. She smiled, “I’ve been coming here since high school, and I have perfected my milkshake order. You’ve got to try it.”

You wrinkled your nose at the thought, “Sorry, Robin, but I would probably die from all the sugar in that thing.” You laughed.

She shrugged and took a sip, smiling at the taste of the weirdly dark green liquid. You had no idea how it ended up that color, but you really didn’t want to know.

“How’s Eddie?” She asked, changing the subject from her love life to yours.

“He’s good. I haven’t been able to see him since you have, which kinda stinks. He’s been working a lot. I was thinking about stopping by the record store tomorrow just to drop in and say hi, but Sage goes there and hangs out while he works, so I don’t know if he’d be okay with it.” You sighed. You missed him.

“Does he not want you around her?” She inquired.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. But we just kinda want to know where we’re at before bringing her into it. It’s not easy on a little kid to see their parent with someone new, you know?” You informed her, sympathetic to Sage’s feelings.

“Well, how do you feel about it all?” She asked.

You furrowed your brows, a little confused, “What do you mean?”

“Like, you know… how do you feel about keeping the two of you apart from the two of them? If you and Eddie do end up working out… have you thought about what you would be to Sage?” She asked.

You’d been so caught up in being worried about Sage’s feelings that you really hadn’t considered your own at that point. You pondered the possibilities for a moment, sipping on your milkshake. “Well… I mean, I’m okay with keeping it from Sage for a while. I think that’s normal for anyone who has kids, you know? Making sure your relationship is sound before introducing the concept to a child… and I really haven’t thought about what I would be to Sage..”

“Would you ever want to be her step-mom?” She asked, “That’s kind of the end goal there.”

You hummed and focused on the black and white liquid in your glass, “I-I don’t know. I don’t think I’m against it at all, but I don’t know if I’d be a good mom. Like, yeah, I know I’m good with kids, but I’ve always kind of approached them in almost a scientific way, if that makes sense? I know there’s a method to how you should talk and interact with them, at least in a school setting, in order to help them learn and grow. But I am really only trained for kids 6 and below. And I just… worry, I guess, about like.. messing her up or something.” You sighed, your insecurities showing a bit.

Robin reached her hand across the table and patted your arm, “Dude, you are like, the most motherly non-mom I’ve ever met. I’m positive you’d be good at it. Yeah, you’d make some mistakes, but every parent does. And I’m willing to bet that Eddie and Sage would help you through the process of figuring it all out.” She smiled.

“I guess so… but that’s probably years down the line before that would actually happen, so at least I’ve got time to get used to the idea.” You chuckled.

The waiter came back with your food, and you and Robin dug in. As you ate your french fries, a familiar face walked into the door: Mrs. Robinson, the other kindergarten teacher. She spotted you and you waved. She smiled and walked over to your table.

“Hey, Mrs. Robinson.” You greeted, smiling and cordial. “This is my friend, Robin.” You said, chuckling at the similar names.

“Oh, I know Robin.” She hummed, “She was one of my students years ago.” She’d definitely aged from the time Robin had been in her class, but she still looked and dressed the same. “And you can just call me Anne outside of work.”

Robin smiled up at her, “Nice to see you again.”

“Care to join us?” You asked, trying to be polite.

“Oh, thank you, but my husband is on his way here.” She smiled, then you saw it falter for a moment, “But I do have something to ask you.”

You raised an eyebrow, scooting over so she could sit next to you in the booth, “What is it?” You asked, having no clue as to what she could possibly ask you about.

“Well, I heard a rumor.. and I really just wanted to clear the air about it. I have no doubt in my mind that it’s not true, but I just wanted to confirm with you.” She said, waving her hand dismissively at the idea.

“What did you hear?” You asked, having a sinking feeling you knew where this was going.

“Well,” she started, clothing her purse close to her and leaning in, “I heard that you and that Eddie Munson boy were dating.” She chuckled, “Ridiculous, right? You wouldn’t go out with a boy like that- he’s not.. well, he’s from the wrong side of the tracks, literally.”

You felt Robin’s eyes on you, and you could practically feel her anger bubble, but you decided to keep it simple and professional.

“Oh, actually, Anne, I am. Dating Eddie, that is.” You smiled warmly, though you kind of wanted to punch her in the leg for how rude she’d been about it.

She looked utterly scandalized. “What?” She asked, clutching her purse in her lap, “Why- why would you ever do that, dear? Is your head screwed on straight?” She’d dropped her usually pretentious manner at this point, while you remained, outwardly, cool as a cucumber.

“Well, he’s a good man.” You said, slightly emphasizing the last word to correct her use of the word ‘boy’. “He has a good job, he just bought a home, and he is kind to everyone around him. I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.” You stated simply.

She sighed, grabbing your hand and holding it desperately. You wanted to smack it away, but you refrained, “Dear, he’s bad news.. he got a girl pregnant during his third repeat of senior year in high school. He notoriously deals drugs, he listens to that awful devil-worshiper music, he’s got these horrendous tattoos, and I mean, you’ve seen the way he dresses…and I heard that he was the leader of some Satanic-cult when he was younger.” She pleaded. “I don’t know how that precious baby girl hasn’t been taken from his home- it’s not safe.”

The longer the list became, the more agitated you felt, but you couldn’t let it show. If you made a scene, you’d only spur the rumors on. You took a deep breath, “Anne, he is a good man.” You reiterated, “Sure, he may have an eclectic sense of fashion and off-beat music taste, but that’s really all there is to it. He’s not a drug dealer, I like his tattoos, and the so-called ‘cult’ you’re referring to is just a storytelling game. It’s quite dorky, if I’m being honest.” You chuckled. “Plus, he is an amazing dad. He provides everything for Sage- she literally has anything she could ever want. And he’s involved. He came to every parent teacher conference, every recital, and he read to her every night to ensure she was excelling in school. He does a great job with her, and honestly, I think it’s a shame that more people done see that.” You paused for a moment before continuing, “You judge him based on his outward appearance and silly rumors you hear around town. But, if you had an actual conversation with him, you’d know that he is kind and genuine and absolutely hilarious.” You felt Robin smile with pride at your sentiments. “It’s quite foolish to think that anyone is not worth more than what you’ve heard about them, don’t you think?”

Mrs. Robinson shook her head and let your hand go, moving to get up, “I’m only trying to help you out, dear.”

“I appreciate that, but I can take care of myself.” You said coolly. “I’ll see you in our professional development workshop in two weeks.” You said, smiling like none of this phased you.

She left to go sit with her husband, and you looked over at Robin. “Woah, dude.. you’re like, the most level headed person I’ve ever met.” She mused.

Your smile turned strained, “Well I’m not about to be. Let’s go so I can say some choice words about what just occurred.” You said through gritted teeth.

Robin smiled and nodded quickly, digging cash out of her purse and slamming it on the table as the two of you got up from the table.

Once her car was out of the parking lot and onto the main road, your hands were flying around in the air as you yelled, Robin cackling in the drivers seat.

“What the absolute fuck was her problem?! First of all, how is it any of her business who I choose to be with? I don’t give a fuck about her old bag of a husband, so why should she care what I do outside of school? Secondly, how the hell can she just judge someone based off of shifty rumors that were spread about him fucking years ago! Like, how fucking shallow can you be! Lastly, how dare she have the nerve to sit there and call Eddie a bad dad! He’s literally one of the best parents out there, hands down. Ugh, I want to show her Sage’s scores alone compared to her entire class just to shove that shit in her face!”

Robin laughed, “Yeah, literally what was her problem?” She asked, “And oh my god, you should have seen her fucking face when you said you two were going out! She looked like you’d shit in her cereal!” She cackled. “And how were you so calm? Oh my god you should take up acting! You have an amazing talent there- you should really capitalize on it!”

You groaned, “Well if I was even the slightest bit rude to her, she could’ve confirmed that he was like, ‘ruining me’, or whatever else she and her friends talk about when they gawk at the freshly eighteen lifeguards at the pool.” That made Robin laugh so hard to the point where she had to pull over in a random parking lot so she wouldn’t crash her car. “She also could’ve come for my job somehow. So I really wanted to kill her with kindness. Really let her choke on it.”

“Hell yeah, man” Robin said, holding her sides as you joined her laughter. “But seriously, you should’ve seen her face when you didn’t give her any sort of a reaction. She looked like she was going to explode.”

The two of you howled in her car, eventually dying down and wiping stray tears and hiding your sore stomachs. Once the two of you recovered, you guys looked up and saw that you were actually in the parking lot of the record store and that Eddie was in the window, staring at the both of you with the most bewildered look on his face. He looked like a lost puppy, raising an eyebrow and cocking his head to the side. You and Robin made eye contact again, paused for a moment, then bursted out into peals of laughter yet again.

Since he’d already spotted the two of you, you both d decided to head inside the store. You got out of the car, shut the door, and linked your arm with Robin’s as the two of you walked in, still giggling.

“What is going on with you two?” Eddie asked, your laughter infecting him and making him chuckle.

“Sorry- it’s really not funny.” Robin sighed, “It’s actually kinda shitty, but it’s ridiculous, so it’s a little funny.”

You nodded, releasing Robin’s arm so she could go look around the store while you turned to Eddie to explain. “My coworker, Mrs. Robinson, you remember her?” You asked.

Eddie nodded.

“Well, Robin and I went to Benny’s. She walked in and criticized my choice in men, essentially.. Were really laughing at how I basically stone faced my way through it and she looked like she was going to shit her pants.” You sighed, rubbing a hand through your hair.

“Oh..” he whispered, sticking his hands in his pockets, looking a little dejected.

“I defended you, though, I swear.” You assured him, reaching out to grab his forearm gently. “I didn’t just like, let her bad mouth you. I just kind of… told her off with a smile on my face.”

Eddie shook his head quickly, “Oh, I have no doubt that you did that. I just-“ he placed his hand over the one you’d placed on his arm, “I hate that you’re catching flack for this. Hawkins isn’t an easy town for the unconventional.” He whispered, looking a little sad.

You raised an eyebrow, “Eddie, my skin is thicker than you think. I can put up with a lot of shit. And I really don’t care what other people think, as long as we’re good.” Your hand dropped from his arm to his hand, “The literal only reason I waited was because of my job. Hawkins’ opinion of me is irrelevant.”

He sighed and nodded, leaning in and kissing your forehead gently, “You’re kind of a badass.” He mumbled into your hair.

Robin overheard that statement and smiled, “Hell yeah she is, man. You should’ve seen her- so calm and relaxed while also ripping that old fart a new one. It was great.”

You laughed, leaning into Eddie‘s touch for a moment before he had to get back to work. “Hope you don’t mind we stopped in. We weren’t planning on it.”

He waved a hand dismissively as he went back to alphabetizing records, “You guys are always welcome.”

“Is Sage here?” You asked in a whisper.

He nodded, “She’s in the break room in the back. I’m sure she’ll run out here soon- she’s almost finished with her snack. I bet she’ll be happy to see you guys. The poor girl has been so bored all day, I just can’t exactly give her much to do.”

You nodded and started walking around the store, deciding to get some music while you were there. You peeled over to Robin’s stack of cassettes, which consisted of the usual pop stuff you’d hear on the radio.

It didn’t take long for Sage to wander out of the back of the store. She first ran to Eddie, who pointed to you and Robin, whispering something you couldn’t hear. She beamed and ran over to where the two of you stood, yelling your names and pulling Robin’s legs into a bear hug before doing the same to your own.

“Hey, kiddo!” Robin smiled, “How ya doin’?”

“I’m so booorrreeeddd.” Sage groaned, tossing her head back dramatically. She looked just like her dad in that moment and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“I’m sorry, Sage.” You sighed, “But, I might have something you can do.”

She picked her head up and eyed you suspiciously, “What?”

You crouched down to her level, “I need help finding some good music. Can you help me pick some stuff out?” You asked, Robin chiming in a short, “Me too.”

Sage beamed, excited to have a mission to complete. She grabbed one of yours and one of Robin’s hands enthusiastically and led you two through the store, pointing at the sections she liked, which mostly consisted of kids records. You guys played along, picking up records and examining each one and making a show out of either putting them in your pile or wrinkling your nose and putting them back, making her laugh.

You were so focused that you didn’t notice how Eddie had lost his focus. His eyes trained on you as you humored his daughter, helping her combat her boredom. The corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile, his chest swelling with a mixture of pride and joy. He loved that the two of you were friends.

Robin spotted him while you were busy making Sage giggle by holding a record up to the light like you were inspecting a dollar bill. She smirked at him, seeing how he was watching you, causing a blush to bloom across his cheeks and making him whip his head back to his work quickly.

Robin turned back to you and whispered something in your ear, and you smiled and nodded at the idea. She then walked up to Eddie, clapping him on the back, causing him to jump a little.

“Hey buddy old pal.” She chuckled.

Eddie sighed and looked down at the girl, having a feeling she was up to something, “What do you want, Buckley?” He deadpanned.

She laughed loudly, “Oh shut up, I’m trying to help you.” She took a beat before nudging him, “You want us to take Sage off your hands for a couple hours? We were planning on going to see a movie later, so we could take Sage with us so she doesn’t have to sit around here all day. It would be a great way for the two of them to bond too.”

Eddie thought about it for a moment, wishing that he could’ve been the one going with the two of you instead of Robin. “Yeah, sure. Just- we aren’t telling Sage about us yet, so could you please be on your best behavior?” He asked her.

She smiled and nodded before spinning on her heel and going back over to you, nodding her head like a little kid who’d just been told they could have a sleepover. You smiled and continued searching the store with her.

After you’d been convinced to buy a couple random cassettes by Sage, you walked over to Eddie hand in hand with his daughter, “Hey, we’re ready to check out.” You smiled.

Eddie turned and nodded, heading to the register and trying not to get flustered by your smile and how you interacted with his daughter. He’d tried to date in the past, but everyone had quickly bolted when they’d heard about his kid. So seeing you embrace her, while also liking him, felt like some kind of miracle.

You placed your items on the counter and picked up Sage and placed her there as well, “So, dad, can Sage come with us to the movies?” You asked, acting like she was one of the girls. “We’ll only let her have all the popcorn and candy and soda she could ever want.”

Sage’s eyes lit up and she looked at Eddie excitedly, “Please?” She asked, giving him her best puppy-dog eyes. You copied her face, trying not to giggle.

He looked between the two of you, “You guys are going to be the death of me.” He chuckled, “But sure, Sage. You can go. We’ll just have to make sure we brush your teeth extra good before bed, okay?”

She nodded and smiled like it was Christmas morning, squealing and hugging you. You smiled and patted her back, watching Eddie put your items in a paper bag. She released you and you leaned over the counter, resting your elbows on the cool surface, “You want me to drop her off at your house after?” You asked.

He nodded, “Yeah, I get off work at 6, so I should be home by the time the movie gets out.” He handed you your bag and Robin walked up to purchase her items as well.

Once the two of you had everything, Robin picked up the bags and you picked up Sage, holding her on your hip like you’d been doing so for years. Eddie wanted to pull you into a kiss right then, but he knew better. That would’ve really confused Sage.

Robin smiled, “Well, thanks for letting us kidnap your child. We’ll be sure to spoil her so she won’t sleep tonight.” She joked.

The two of you walked back out to her car, and you buckled Sage into the back seat. “Oh, I think I forgot something inside. I’ll be right back.” You smiled before closing her door and walking into the shop. Robin knew exactly what you were doing, but she turned and talked to Sage to keep her occupied until you came back.

You walked back into the empty record shop and Eddie looked at you from the counter, “Hey- everything okay?” He asked. You smiled and walked behind the counter, then grabbed his hand and dragged him to the back room, which made him raise his eyebrows raise in shock, “What are you do-“

Once you were out of the field of view of the parking lot, you pulled Eddie down to kiss you. He was a bit surprised at first, but after a moment, he leaned into it and kissed you back, his arms wrapping around your waist.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and he pulled you close, melting into your presence. After a moment, he broke the kiss slowly and looked down at you, a little starstruck, “What was that about?” He asked, smiling against your lips, neither of you having backed away.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks. I like you.” You whispered, making eye contact with him and keeping him close.

He hummed, “I don’t either. And I like you too.” He leaned in once more and kissed you again, humming against your lips before you two separated, stepping back. “By the way, totally unfair that Sage gets a movie date before I do.”

You chuckled, “Our first date was a movie.”

“Yeah, but there wasn’t movie theatre popcorn.”

“Well I’m free this weekend if you want to go.”

He nodded and pecked you one more time before you turned and walked out, Eddie smacking your ass lightly as you walked away, causing you to giggle and roll your eyes as you left the store.

The ride to the theatre was filled with terrible singing, as Robin insisted on cranking up the radio and rolling the windows down. Once you guys pulled into the movie theatre parking lot, you helped Sage get out and the two of you held her hands, lifting her up and swinging her as you walked into the theatre.

You guys picked a child appropriate movie to watch, bought the tickets, then raided the concession stand, buying way more snacks than the three of you could consume within a 2 hour window. You found your seats and got comfy, passing the popcorn bucket between the three of you, Sage in the middle and having to use both hands, as the thing was half her size.

The movie started and Sage was transfixed, giggling at the obvious jokes while you and Robin chuckled at the jokes they included for the adults in the room. When she’d had her fill of the snacks, Sage sighed and leaned against you, resting her little head on your arm. You moved it and allowed her to rest on your side as you wrapped an arm around her.

You looked over at Robin, who’d noticed the sweet scene, and smiled softly. She gave you a subtle thumbs up and turned her attention back to the screen.

Eventually, Sage fell asleep against you, her head having slowly drifted to your lap with tired eyes. You played with her hair as she slept, and you and Robin sat through the rest of the movie, whispering “that’s what she said” every time the joke could’ve been set up.

Once the credits rolled, you slowly moved and picked Sage up, letting her sleep as you walked out to the car. You had to rouse her when you got in, though, as she needed to sit up so you could buckle her in. She whined, but complied, sleepy and rubbing her eyes.

The ride over to Eddie’s was quiet, the radio playing softly as you watched Hawkins pass outside of the window. Robin pulled into Eddie’s driveway and you suddenly realized that you hadn’t been to his house yet.

Sage had fallen asleep again in the backseat, so you slowly got her out, telling Robin that you had it- don’t worry. She stayed in the car as you walked to the front door and knocked, rubbing Sage’s back as you waited for him to answer.

Eddie opened the door and saw his baby girl asleep in your arms. The sight made his knees feel a little weak. “Hey.” He whispered, stepping aside to let you in.

You smiled and walked into his house. It was cozy. There weren’t many decorations, but there was a killer music collection in the living room, bookshelves lined with cassettes and records and CDs, along with a few different ways to play the music. An acoustic guitar sat in the corner, covered in sparkly princess stickers, courtesy of Sage. A bin of toys sat beside the couch, and Sage had apparently set up a stuffed animal tea party at the bar in the kitchen. You really wouldn’t have expected anything else. It was perfect.

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess.” He whispered.

You shook your head, “It’s fine.” You adjusted Sage on your hip, “Where’s her room? I can just go lay her down.”

He led you down a hallway and to a room that looked like a rainbow sparkle unicorn barfed in it. It was so cute. You laid Sage down in her little bed before you and Eddie snuck out. You stretched as the two of you walked back to the living room, “You have a good day at work?” You asked, raising your arms above your head and stretching your back.

“Yeah. The usual, I guess. Seeing you was nice.” He smiled, reaching over and placing a hand on your waist, “Thank you for taking Sage. She was so bored. I feel bad- I really can’t afford a regular babysitter during the summers, so I just take her with me. There’s a tv and stuff in the break room, but having to entertain yourself for that long when you’re five years old is not easy.”

You nodded, “Of course, Eddie. I love hanging out with her.” You hummed, “And if she’s ever bored again, you can always call me and I can take her for the day.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He said softly.

“Yeah, I don’t. But Sage is a fun kid. Plus it’ll get me out of the house. I feel like I’m rotting in there.” You joked.

He chuckled, “Thank you.” He whispered before pulling you in for a hug. You hugged him back, taking in how he smelled: dust from the record store, a stale cigarette, coffee, and cologne mixed into an interesting and intoxicating smell that was distinctly him. You backed out of the hug, then looked down the hallway to ensure Sage wasn’t walking down it before leaning up and kissing him sweetly.

“I’ll see you this weekend?” You asked, looking hopeful.

He nodded, “Of course. I can’t wait.” He smiled.

You nodded and left his house, piling back into Robin’s car and driving off, feeling warm and fuzzy all over. Maybe you could let yourself start to think about the future a little more.

Tag List: @mcueveryday @bebe0701 @emma77645 @edsforehead @manda-panda-monium @nina211544 @wendyfawcett @whisperinthewoods07

[hebuiltfive]

Hey, it’s Firstonthescene!! Can I request 2004 Jeff & Penny + Romance for the prompt game please 👉👈 hehe

Hello! Thanks for the request @firstonthescene (and sorry it's taken me so long!)

I've put it up on AO3 here for anyone who'd rather read it there, otherwise it's all below the cut!

The prompt given by the generator was: "Them accidentally (or purposefully) dozing off in a hammock together as the sun sets and the air cools down."

Given Penny's hatred for the hammock in the movie, I thought it was perfectly fitting! I hope that you enjoy it!

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

Penelope had always been stubborn when it came to her opinions, most especially when she had been proven wrong. She wasn’t exactly sure where it came from. Perhaps it was a repurposed defence mechanism which she had developed as a child; unable to control some of her life choices after being born into a strict and rigid societal system, being obstinate had been rather appealing to a young Penelope, and old habits were hard to break. She was always right, with the rare occasion of being wrong, and that wasn’t about to change, no matter how hard Jeff Tracy tried his luck.

It had been her own fault for bringing up the topic. Letting sleeping dogs lie would have been the best approach, and one she would have normally taken, but the hideous thing had caught her eye and now she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

In her defence, the tattered old hammock did look like it had seen better days. Swaying limply between the two trees, it really did appear to be quite literally hanging on by a few threads. Not to mention the lack of cohesion between the design of it and the rest of the patio furniture. At this point it was practically begging for someone to replace it, if only to liven up the place a little.

On more than one occasion, Penelope had been tempted. With Parker’s help — which he would have given wholeheartedly, she was certain — they could have had the dreadful hammock replaced in a snap. No-one would have been any the wiser until it was too late. It would have been an easy switch, but it was something she would never dare do. Penelope had far too much respect for the owners of that ghastly hammock, even if their choice in poolside furnishings left much to be desired, and so she had left the eyesore alone, averting her eyes every time she visited the island and was forced to walk passed it.

For months now, since she had first seen the thing, Penelope had done well to ignore the intolerable hammock.

Until today.

After the family barbecue earlier, she and Jeff had spent the better half of their evening down on one of Tracy Island’s not-so-secret secret beaches. Weeks ago, Jeff had promised Penelope he’d finally teach her how to surf. Making good use of the last of the daylight, he had begun to show her the basics. Now, as the sun had threatened to dive behind the horizon, they had begrudgingly returned to the villa.

As they strolled up the last of the steps, passing the pool and the sun loungers, the hammock had once again caught Penelope’s eye.

“Don’t you think it’s time you replaced that old thing?”

Jeff lugged his surfboard up the last of the steps as Penelope examined the limp fabric critically, pointing towards the trees where it hung. Perplexed by her sudden question, he cast her a curious look. “What, that hammock?”

“It’s positively ghastly.”

“I’ve never really noticed. It just kind of… sits there. Out of the way.”

“It’s an eyesore. It’s barely hanging on there. It looks as thought it’s a relic from the 1980s. No, it needs replacing one of these days before someone gets injured. You know what they say, Jeff; prevention is better than a cure. Replacing that thing before it gives out will be better than waiting for someone to have an accident.

Jeff allowed Penelope to continue, his lips quirking upwards into an amused half-grin.

In her rambling, she hadn’t noticed his quietness until she’d finished. She turned to face him, half-expecting him to agree with her. After all, all her points made were made in truth— any others were based in fact, pending metaphorical certification.

But Jeff did not outwardly agree. He laid down his board, took two steps forward until her was standing in front of her, took her waving, accusing hands in his and then softly claimed, “Penny, it’s a hammock.”

Her eyebrows lowered into a frown. “A ghastly hammock that is a death trap if ever I saw one.”

“Do hammocks usually kill people?”

“That one will. I’m certain of it!”

“Well, it hasn’t yet.”

“One day, Jeff. You shouldn’t tempt fate.”

“Penny, you’re being dramatic. I assure you that hammock is as safe as it was the day we put it up.”

“And when was that exactly?”

“Not the 1980s.”

“Are you sure?”

He chuckled, letting her hands go free. “Positive. It may not look sturdy, but it holds.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Rarely did Penelope regret her words. She never spoke without first thinking through her sentiments. On this occasion, she did.

Taking her words as a challenge, Jeff burst into a jog. He leaped over Kyrano’s gardening, launched himself through the air and threw himself onto the wretched hammock before Penelope could even yell a word of warning. If anyone wanted to question Jeff’s physical health — something the ageist media found immensely interesting upon hearing of his brief return to space a few months back —they’d need only see him perform that stunt again to be convinced he was as fit as a fiddle. Most would probably have been impressed by his skills. Penelope was not one of them.

Her heart was in her mouth.

And he had the nerve to call her dramatic?

The trees creaked and groaned as they catered to the sudden weight of a grown man leaping onto the hammock, but the ropes holding the hammock up held fast and Jeff gently rocked to and fro with the momentum.

He grinned up at her. “See? Perfectly safe!”

Penelope marched over to him, batting leaves and bushes out of the way to reach him. She folded her arms, clearly irritated by his display. “You could have seriously injured yourself pulling a stunt like that!”

But Jeff, like Penny, knew that she wasn’t angry with his reckless behaviour. She’d seen him perform far worse in his line of work, and, likewise, he’d see her dance with death on more than one occasion.

This was about her being proved wrong.

“Penny…”

“You know what they say, Jeff.” She continued defiantly. “That you’re more likely to injure yourself as home, and with crazy antics like this, I can see why.”

He opened up his arms for her, inviting her to join him, but Penelope shook her head.

“Absolutely not! That thing is a death trap!”

“I just jumped into it to prove that isn’t the case.”

“No. No way.”

It wasn’t that Penny didn’t trust Jeff, because she did. Very much so, in fact. Penelope trusted that man with her life and, on many occasions now he had never failed to come through for her. The Grand Canyon, Marrakech, Ilha da Queimada Grande… The list went on. Jeff had never once let her down. He had never once betrayed that trust. She knew that streak wasn’t about to be broken with this hammock, and yet she still found herself hesitating.

Penelope’s gaze travelled the length of the lining, up to the knot that tied the structure off to the trunk. She frowned disapprovingly. “The ropes will snap under the extra weight. I don’t fancy sporting a broken limb. I’ve already used that one as an excuse to get out of obligations, Jeff, and I can’t use it again so soon.”

Determined to be undefeated in her claim regarding the hammock being unsafe, Penelope turned back towards the path. If she didn’t get on it, she couldn’t be proved entirely wrong.

She made it two steps before an arm wrapped around her waist.

Penelope would have easily batted off any assailant who tried that trick, but it hadn’t been an assailant who had grabbed her. Jeff pulled her backwards, back towards the waiting hammock. Knowing her fate was sealed, Penelope didn’t bother trying to fight free at all. In fact, the only fighting she was doing as Jeff dropped back down onto the hammock, dragging Penelope with him, was fighting off her laughter.

Only Jeff Tracy could make her feel like she was seventeen again.

A stray tendril of gold had fallen from her messy bun. He tucked it behind her ear, drawing her into his embrace. Now she was here, she wasn’t going to be able to get away easily.

Not that she necessarily wanted to get away.

Hammock be damned — Penny would use any excuse for a snuggle.

She glanced upwards to see Jeff’s smug grin. In this light, his eyes were more of a soft shade of grey than blue. Penelope was mesmerised by it.

“Ready to admit defeat?” Jeff asked, snapping out of her temporary trance.

“Defeat?”

“I think it’s safe to say the hammock won.”

“I think you’re mistaken.”

“It hasn’t collapsed. We haven’t died. You’re still laying in it.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“We can stay here all night if we have to.”

“And watch the beautiful sunset? I don’t see how that’s much of a threat, Jeff.”

In unison, they both glanced over to the horizon. The sun was breaching the horizon, rays reflecting off the waves in the distance. The sky was alight with deep oranges and soft toned pinks. Clouds interrupted the colour show and shadowed outlines of birds swooped and swarmed in clusters. The Pacific roared, crashing into the rocks of the island in a cacophony of sounds.

Jeff held Penelope tighter. His arm, still around her, drew her closer.

Penelope tore her gaze away from the glorious sunset and was met with a face full of grief. She had seen it on Jeff multiple times over the last couple of months, that faraway look, but Penelope never resented it. She did not like it, of course, for it signified the one thing she knew she would never be able to fully heal for him, but she could understand it, perhaps even better than most.

She raised her finger, booping him on the nose.

Jeff’s attention snapped back to her, apologetic and slightly startled, but Penelope merely grinned.

“I know you can hardly keep your eyes off the sky at the best of times, and tonight I must concede that it is exceptionally gorgeous, but you do have company, Jeff Tracy.”

“Sorry.” He chuckled, any thoughts and memories being pushed away to the recesses of his mind. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I wanted to give the sunset a moment of appreciation before I settled my gaze on the prettier sight.”

“Oh? Is there a meteor shower or something I don’t know about?” Penelope teased, knowing full well there was not. She enjoyed watching the roll of his eyes, hearing his fond, if a little exasperated, sigh.

As she rested back, her head finding a pillow in the safety of his shoulder, Jeff propped his cheek on the top of her head. He offered a gentle squeeze of her hand. “Fancy a vacation?”

“Is this not already one?”

“Not for me it isn’t.”

“Your life is one big vacation.”

“I think you’re underestimating all the work we do on this island, Penny.”

“Fair point. What were you thinking?”

Jeff idly traced circles on the back of her hand and Penelope knew, without having to look back up at him, that he was staring out at the great beyond again.

For a few moments, Jeff said nothing more. In his hold, and with the dying sunset on the horizon, Penelope’s eyelids began to feel heavy.

Then, after a deep inhale, Jeff softly suggested, “Somewhere far away. Maybe that new space hotel? That looks pretty interesting.”

Fighting off sleep a little longer, Penelope forced herself to reply in her normal tone. “The one Brains helped design, you mean? Yes, I was talking to Parker the other day about organising a visit.”

She bit back a yawn and she could feel Jeff’s smile through her hair.

“We can arrange something in the morning.” He continued his whispering. “If you’d like to go?”

“I would love to, but would the boys be okay with you being away for a few days?”

“I was thinking of it being more like a week or two.” He joked with a half-laugh. “But I’m sure they’ll do fine. Scott needs a little room to spread his wings, get used to some leadership without feeling like I’m watching over his shoulder. I won’t be here forever.”

The thought was a sobering one. If Penelope wasn’t on the verge of falling asleep, she would have tackled it more ferociously. Instead, trying to sound as stubborn as possible, she responded with, “No, but you’re going to be here for a long while yet, if I can help it.”

“Are you going to fight Death himself for me, Penny?”

“You know I’d fight anything for you, Jeff Tracy.”

He pressed another kiss to her forehead. “Do you want to move inside?”

“Absolutely not. I’m far too comfortable here now.”

“Ah, so you do admit defeat!”

Too tired to understand entirely what he meant, Penelope furrowed her brows. “What?”

“You admit defeat, regarding this hammock.”

In truth, Penelope had forgotten exactly where they had become so snug. The hideous hammock, for all its faults she tried to point out, was annoyingly cozy.

Stubborn to a fault, she grumbled. “We can talk about that in the morning too.”

Jeff chuckled. “Goodnight, Penny.”

[h-didanart]

Tw selfharm

I blurred it

Didn’t appear blurred to me, but let’s hope it works!

Oh. Oh, Bloodmoon. I’m sorry.

This is a very sad piece, the gradient all around the drawing gives a somber atmosphere, Blood seemingly hugging himself reminds us of what exactly he’s dealing with, the scars reveal just how badly he’s taking it, and having his expression shadowed by his hood was just the perfect way to convey his misery.

I also feel the need to point out that the way you drew the tears is very good, they look like actual tears and not just chicken scratch (which the ones I draw usually look like)

Very good drawing, it’s heartbreaking, sad, and perfectly communicates the character’s feelings.

Btw, are those ears under his hood?

*takes a deep sigh*

Okay, I’m sorry, I could not stop myself from rambling about my aus here. This drawing reminded me of some stuff from my aus and, y’know, I thought I’d share, just some quick explanations and then nothing more. But then I started writing and then I had a paragraph and then I started writing from the character’s own feelings and… *sighs* I’m sorry.

You don’t have to read this if you don’t wanna, it’s really just my writer brain having been activated and immediately lore dumping everything I had that reminded me of what you’ve shown me. Again, ya don’t need to read this, it’ll probably make you uncomfortable or upset or both. But if you do, uh, thanks? Don’t hate me?

Below is discussion of these topics: self harm and suicidal ideation

(Do not force yourself to read what’s next, read safely)

You know, I too have kinda thought of Bloodmoon doing this, not the canon one, but the ones from at least two of my main aus. I don’t know if it’ll be canon to the aus, but they’re at least interesting things to think through from a psychological and angst writer standpoint.

Both twins in ‘Get in losers’ post separation, for different reasons.

Harvest because without their other half she genuinely cannot feel anything, so she resorts to the one thing they know they’ll feel, that being pain, all of it focused on her unusable arm, her missing half’s. She gets better when they get reunited, tho they’re afraid of relapsing whenever she’s away from Hunter for an extended period of time.

Hunter because his body is wrong. Jigsaw did not care to explain to them that his body was made to suit a female AI, and when they realize this they try to hide it as much as possible, hiding his chest using whatever he can find, usually to the detriment of his internal fan system, and picking at the casing on their hips hoping to one day be able to take a whole chunk off. They don’t get better when they are reunited, actually Harvest probably catches him about to pass out from overheating due to a broken fan, from there I could see Harvest asking Solar for help with this and Hunter accepting the help after resisting it due to the embarrassment//shame//humiliation from it.

And then there’s Harvest… from ‘Quiet Throes’.

They’ve both taken their situation as badly as one can take that situation, there’s just too many feelings for them to process, so naturally some got ignored. Harvest wasn’t too keen on talking about his own feelings of worthlessness to begin with, and with them insisting on focusing on Bloody they kinda just kept it all in. The twins take turns sleeping at some point, it doesn’t stop the exhaustion they feel, nor does it stop the images flashing in their eyes every time they blink, but they still try to lighten the load for one another. That’s what it was supposed to be, at least. He didn’t know how he started, they just know they were tired of seeing all that over and over and over and over. The pain was a relief, something their mind could focus on that wasn’t the screams echoing in his hearing, but it didn’t last long, so they did it again. And again, and again, and again. Bloody woke up. And then he realized what he had been doing. It wasn’t permanent damage, Solar had been very careful and effective in stopping the oil and sealing their wounds, but it still left a pretty big impact on them all. Harvest was focused on more since then, with him reluctantly starting to talk about some of his issues, but they could never shake off the guilt. Bloody didn’t deserve to deal with his issues. Bloody didn’t deserve to deal with their stupid decisions… Maybe it would all be better if he hadn’t survived.

I

AM

SO

SORRY

YOU

HAD

TO

READ

THAT

.m.

I’m sorry

[sweet-art-o-mine]

Tropes [Death x Reader - Darksiders]

[[A/N: Author Allie here. Still just writing more Darksiders (specifically Death) stuff because I love this brooding old man so much, and I love the idea of an Apocalypse-surviving human slowly worming their way into Death’s heart because they’re just so earnest and nice lol. We still don’t have any requests at the moment, so please feel free to drop something in the ask box! We write for a variety of fandoms if you check our FAQ!]]

Summary: Death and Reader (human survivor) settle down in a cave to wait out a storm. You bring up an innocent topic that ends up reminding Death of some bad memories. Word Count: 1,788 Warnings: None. Just a deep convo about movie tropes and vaguely mentioning Death’s past regrets.

-----

"Antihero."

The sudden soft sound of your voice nearly startled the Nephelim on the other side of the enclave the two of you were camping out in. 

Days ago, Death had come to visit you on the smoldering wreckage of your planet, as always, and told you of his plans to head out soon. You hadn't really expected him to say yes when you asked if you could join him, but you certainly weren't disappointed. He sometimes let you go exploring with him, but there were many more times when he deemed it too dangerous for a human to go and simply left you to continue picking up the shattered remnants of your home world alone. You’d take any excuse to get away from the corpses and clean-up for a while.

Whatever planet you were on now was pockmarked with deep craters and caves, one of which you two had temporarily made your campsite while the skies opened up to a torrent of green-grey rain that seemed to wither away any living thing it came into contact with.

"What?" He asked after a moment of silence when it seemed clear you weren't going to continue. You looked just as startled as he felt, then - perhaps you hadn’t even realized you’d spoken at all.

"Oh, sorry, I was just thinking out loud."

He poked at the fire burning comfortably between the two of you. You laid flat on your back atop your jacket that you'd rolled out onto the cave floor, one arm used as a pillow to make yourself just a bit more comfortable. Dust laid on your stomach, snoozing peacefully. Despair was nowhere to be found, but Death had assured you when you’d made shelter than he was perfectly fine wherever he’d run off to.

"Thoughts are typically meant to be kept in your head," he spoke dryly in his deep, sonorous voice. It may have been captivating to listen to, if not for the fact that he was poking fun at you. You narrowed your eyes at him in a playful pout, but otherwise didn't react much to his words. You'd known Death for far too long to let any of his dry wit bother you - besides, you knew it was all fun and games for the most part. He meant no real harm in the things he said.

"Remember our conversation earlier, before it started raining? About popular tropes in movies?" He glanced back up at you, one brow raised in a curious expression hidden beneath his carved bone mask. There were many, many parts of human culture that he knew nothing about, and sometimes when the two of you traveled and the silence stretched on, you'd start explaining something new to him. Sometimes he would bluntly tell you to stay quiet, but those moments were rare and only reserved for when he was in a foul mood or needed to listen for something. Most days, he just let you ramble on and listened in on every other word or so. He wasn't that interested in how your cultures were shaped on varying beliefs through history or the many dialect differences in otherwise similar languages, but he did often think, with a hidden underlying sense of respect, that humanity had proven time and time again to be quite a formidable people. There was no magic on your world, yet your technology could almost rival that of Heaven's.

Almost. You still didn’t have sword-guns like they did.

(You haven’t told him of bayonets yet.)

But earlier, riding double on Despair as you trotted through this withering planet, you'd begun explaining what you referred to as 'common character tropes in films'. You'd first had to explain what movies were to him, and though he didn't understand how your technology worked, he understood that a 'movie' was something akin to a play on a stage where the people acted out their parts for amusement. You'd mentioned themes and patterns that were often followed, and even told him that there was one he fit perfectly.

"I remind you of a character in a play?" He'd snorted.

"Movie," you corrected him, "But no. Your goals, your morals, they're just like this one trope..."

But for the life of you, you couldn't remember what it was you'd wanted to say. He'd jokingly said it was for the best, that he didn't care to know your 'tropes' anyway, but apparently not remembering a simple word is something that bothers you immensely. You'd been silently thinking on it for the rest of the day, and even well into the night. And, now, you'd finally found it.

You smiled. "That's what I was thinking of! You're the antihero."

He didn't respond for a moment or two, then poked at the fire again, urging the dwindling flames back to life. He didn't need it himself, his body was cool to the touch and needed no heat to function - but he knew it was something you required.

"Antihero," He repeated quietly, staring into the flames. "The villain, then?"

You shook your head vehemently, dislodging Dust from where he had been nestled onto your stomach. The damn crow had a clear favoritism for you, something he liked to make known at every possible moment. Perhaps because you often fed him from your personal stores of dried foods. He cawed in dismay, and you rested a soothing hand on his feathers as an apology even as you continued speaking with Death.

"No, no! Not a villain, per se, it's more like... An antihero is someone who does bad things for a good cause. Or at least, for a cause they believe is good. Sort of like a... the-ends-justify-the-means kind of person. That's what you are! Or, er, what you reminded me of," you smiled meekly, unable to tell if his silence was simply him processing your words or if you'd insulted him in some way. The elder Nephelim had never shied away from his misdeeds, and he'd always been blunt when he told you how he didn't regret his actions as long as he believed in the cause he committed them for.

He had nothing to say to that. Perhaps he was surprised that there was a human term for something that summed him up quite perfectly. It seemed to him that he'd been an... antihero his entire life.

As soon as that thought appeared in his mind, all the other terrible things followed suit, rising unbidden like a poison in the back of his memories. It soured his mood, and he tossed the stick he'd been holding into the flames to watch it crackle and burn. His eyes narrowed.

"You don't know all I've done, human."

You took in a deep breath. That was true - he was a secretive man, protecting his past from you as if it were his very own life he was guarding. You were sure you didn't know even the smallest fraction of the things he'd done for the Balance of Creation. But you hadn't meant to bring up all those memories that seemed, clearly, to bother him immensely. You felt the swift and immediate desire to play it off as a joke or apologize, something to lighten the mood again as it had been before... but you hesitated.

"...Well, it's true I don't know the extent of all you've done. And with your secretive personality, I imagine you'd like to keep it that way," you spoke softly, staring into his eyes with an unreadable expression.

"I would," came his curt, simple reply. The stick he'd thrown into the fire splintered from the heat with an echoing snap.

You nod once, laying back down and staring at the ceiling of the cave. You'd always respected his boundaries and his secrets, never prying or poking into his old wounds - it was a simple act of respect and kindness that instilled in him so much compassion and gratitude for you that he could not quite put into words. And even now, he knew you felt as though you were walking on eggshells around him with his broody personality, but you still gave your all to respect his desires for privacy and extend a friendly hand to him whenever he might want it.

It made him feel a twinge of guilt for his sudden coldness to you, watching you distance yourself from him in order to avoid upsetting him further. It made him wonder why you continued to seek out his companionship, even after all this time. 

But he kept his deeper thoughts and emotions, as always, hidden from you.

Long moments of silence stretched on between you two after that. Perhaps an hour passed, or longer - your mind racing as you listen to the steady downpour of rain outside the cave, and the soft crackling of the flames beside you. You'd closed your eyes at some point and now no longer knew how far back that conversation had been. When you opened them again, blearily, you saw that the fire had died down to glowing red embers. Death sat still in the same pose as before, legs crossed and arms limp in his lap as he stared at the last of the light fading away silently.

You must have fallen asleep. The rain had stopped at some point, the ground still wet, yet all the bigger puddles had been soaked up into the dehydrated ground already. Death could have woken you to continue the journey as soon as it'd ended, but he was kind enough to let you get your rest. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the complicated man before you. Brooding, sarcastic, cold on the outside and often difficult to approach or have a straight conversation with - yet kinder than he would let on, and ever patient with your grief and insecurities as you trudged through this unknown world without your people beside you.

Your patience for his grief and insecurities was the very least you felt you could do to repay him for his friendship.

You packed up your few traveling items in silence, Death watching all the while.

"Antiheros have always been my favorite characters," you threw over your shoulder with a small smile, heading for the cave entrance. Despair dug at the ground impatiently just outside the lip, already eager and waiting to get a move on. Death glanced at you from the corner of his bright eyes, warmer than the embers still dissipating in the fire behind you.

After a heartbeat of silence, there was a quiet, breathy chuckle. He took in a steadying breath, rolled a shoulder to work out the stiffness, and stood to join you.

[existentialsophism]

Ok so I’m gonna post this here bc my mom is giving me the silent treatment and it might hit (maybe idk it’s very long)

Neurodivergent Ramblings

I had so much shit as a kid like being told I was off topic and absent minded and wandering around the classroom and yet somehow nobody had me evaluated for anything???? You have a master’s in child development and you never saw this coming??? You fucking moron!!! I lost friends and my grades failed because of that. I had to figure out why I was so weird on my own while I was being constantly bullied and manipulated for being different. I learned to hate myself before I even learned how to socialize. I wasn’t physically abused but the mental strain of masking and trying to pay attention in classes was so draining I almost killed myself several times once I got to college. It’s made me wonder if life is even worth living. And now I find something that works and I’m not even guaranteed that I’ll be able to continue because I’m not a cishet upper middle class white boy who will perfectly slot into the diagnostic criteria. That and all my shit overlaps and is impossible to separate. And now that I know shit is wrong with me I can’t even fucking access the shit that makes it better. Oh you mean I need someone to professionally tell me I can’t focus in class?? I FUCKING KNEW THAT HOW STUPID DO YOU THINK I AM YOU ASSHOLES?????? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU THAT YOU HAVE THESE RESOURCES THAT I CAN’T EVEN USE BECAUSE A DOCTOR DIDN’T CERTIFY THAT I’M NOT LYING ABOUT BEING DISTRESSED BY THIS????? DO I FUCKING LOOK DISTRESSED ENOUGH TO YOU??? I’M FUCKING CRYING OVER THIS AND YOU THINK I’M LYING OR SOMETHING???? I get not distributing stimulants without a diagnosis, I get it. But if the thing helps, and you’re a doctor who can control its dispersal, why don’t you just do it anyway??? I’m not even guaranteed a diagnosis because even though I have all of the symptoms it’s apparently not good enough for a self-assessment which doesn’t take into account the fact I also have autism and those two overlap/cancel each other out, which means I’m not guaranteed to get the shit I know would allow me to function like a normal fucking person.

No wonder I’ve never been able to relax, that’s an adhd thing. Even during sex or something I can’t relax, every single action is intentional because I have 15 separate thoughts at once about whether or not I’m doing enough or what I could do to make the other girl feel good too or whatever. I hate it. I want to just turn my brain off and be puppy, but I can’t. I have the autistic inability to turn my brain off and the adhd inability to relax. And it’s exhausting. I get headaches a lot from the sheer mental effort it takes to be alive. I’ve been awake for an hour and I think I’ve done more thinking than the average person does in their whole week. How lovely it would be for my mind to be quiet. Or even just for me to be able to control it. I can’t control my own mind so I try to control everything else in my life and get distressed when I can’t. I usually try to channel it into helping my friends and the people I love but I’m bad at that so it doesn’t even work.

I never really struggled academically as a kid because class wasn’t that challenging and I was privileged enough to have had a really strong foundation. That allowed me to look like I was actually able to hang in school when really I was just good at taking tests and not much else. I constantly forgot homework and materials for class even with my mom reminding me and half packing all of my stuff for me, I’d forget about projects until the night before, I’d have trouble with little details in later math classes which resulted in me not doing as well as I could have, it’s all shit that is part of adhd that not a single person thought to tie back to it. Because apparently you can only have adhd if you’re struggling in school or some shit. The autistic ability to control my actions didn’t help either since I could just mask everything “abnormal” about myself for my own mental and physical safety, which further contributed to everyone around me thinking nothing was wrong, and now everyone thinks I’m just trying to be trendy or label totally normal neurotypical experiences. Somehow they think that my suffering is just for attention or something?? Why would I choose to be like this? I hate it! It’s a disability! Why would I choose to be disabled?? I don’t get why neurotypical people think they can bully kids for being weird and then tell them everything they’ve been bullied for their entire life is normal actually. Why am I being gaslit by the entire world?

[wallowslistener]

am i weird? ೨ৎ s. barber x reader

𐙚˚ stanley barber x fem!reader. fluff. 0.5k words.

✦ stanley barber had a way of asking questions at the strangest moments.

you were sitting on the bleachers after school, the sun starting to dip behind the trees, casting long shadows across the field. it had been a long day, and you two had somehow ended up here after wandering around town. neither of you really wanted to go home yet, so you just sat, sharing a bag of chips and talking about everything and nothing.

stan was rambling about something, probably the latest record he’d picked up at the thrift store, when he suddenly went quiet. you glanced over at him, expecting some sarcastic comment or joke, but instead, he had this serious, almost vulnerable look on his face.

"hey," he said, breaking the silence.

"yeah?"

"am i... weird?"

the question hung in the air for a moment. you blinked, caught off guard by his tone. stanley, the guy who wore vintage suits to school for no reason, who listened to obscure music, who spoke in movie quotes, he was asking if he was weird?

you smiled softly, shaking your head a little. "yeah, but so what? everybody’s weird."

stan raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised by your bluntness, but you could see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"you’re not wrong," he muttered, picking at the edge of his jacket sleeve. "but, i dunno... sometimes i feel like it’s different with me, you know? like, other people are weird, but they still fit in. me? i’m just... off."

you scooted closer to him on the bleachers, nudging him with your shoulder. "stan, you’re not ‘off.’ you’re just you. and yeah, you might be a little... out there sometimes, but that’s what makes you cool. you don’t try to fit in like everyone else. you just do your thing."

he looked at you, really looked at you, like he was trying to figure out if you meant it.

"you really think that?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

"of course," you said, giving him a small smile. "i wouldn’t hang out with you if i didn’t."

stan’s lips quirked up into a smirk. "yeah, okay. i guess i can live with that."

you laughed, leaning back against the bleachers. "seriously, though, stan. don’t let it get to you. being weird is kind of the best part about you."

he pretended to think about it, tapping his chin dramatically. "so, you’re saying i should embrace my weirdness and become even more of an enigma?"

"exactly," you said, grinning. "just don’t go too far with it. we don’t need you turning into, like, a mad scientist or something."

stan chuckled, the seriousness from before easing away. "oh, i wouldn’t dream of it. but thanks... for not thinking i’m too weird to hang out with."

you shook your head, rolling your eyes playfully. "you’re weird, stan. but in a good way. don’t forget that."

he smiled, a real, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "yeah. thanks, i guess."

the conversation drifted back into it's usual rhythm after that. more jokes, more random topics, but you couldn’t help but feel a small shift in the air between you two. stanley might have thought he was too weird for the world, but to you, that was exactly what made him stand out. exactly what made him, well... stan.

[lumiereandcogsworth]

What are your headcanons for Adam as a father?

i am SO sorry to have taken so long to answer this. it’s only because this is like my favorite topic in the world and therefore i don’t even know where to begin. that being said, here’s some beloved headcanons of my boy being a papa:

he had never held a baby before his own first daughter. which meant it was a terribly nerve-wracking experience, but the whole day was the most anxiety-filled he’s ever been anyway, so by the time that baby got into his arms, all he really felt was complete and utter relief.

he’s a very cautious father. unlike his free-spirited wife, he can’t help but worry about the children all the time. he just never expected to have such care in his heart, such precious miracles in his life, he can’t fathom the thought of something happening to them.

he nicknames his family members a lot (belle is very regularly called “darling” by him) but each of the children have their own nicknames too. renée is “macaron”, juliette is “dearest”, and maurice is “son”. he does, of course, call them all sorts of names, including darling, angel, sweetheart, and so on.

adam is quite the night owl, so he is often awake when his newest infant is crying in the wee hours. often they need to be fed, so belle tends to them, but if it’s only a cry for attention, adam takes them in his arms and does his very best to sooth the child back to sleep. he’ll sit in the rocking chair and send them off to dreamland in no time. sometimes he hums songs that belle sings, or even lullabies that his mother used to offer him. it always breaks and mends his heart all at once.

he’s just… so gentle. so gentle and kind, as he’s always been since belle came into his life. he’s so soft and quiet with his little ones. he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he tries. tries to listen. tries to be as present as possible. tries as hard as he possibly can to ensure that they are never once frightened of him. and, of course, they never are.

he likes petting/fixing his children’s hair a lot. physical touch is his love language and that’s often how he shows his affection toward them. they’ll be standing at his side and he’ll absentmindedly pet their hair and they are quite soothed by it without noticing, until he stops and they grab his hand and put it back on their head.

the first time he took renée riding on a horse with him, she was four years old. she had been begging to ride a horse since she knew how to speak, but adam had been resisting for safety reasons. he wasn’t even completely comfortable with her being four, but belle insisted she’d be perfectly safe with his arm around her and them riding slowly enough. and she was, and she giggled excitedly the whole time, and adam couldn’t help but smile.

the children loved to nap with him when they were little. they’d nap with belle too, sometimes, but with papa it was different. those naps were longer and warmer. everyone just feels so safe in adam’s arms… and adam loves having a family to protect.

adam just loves to listen to them. he’s gotten good practice from falling in love with belle’s storytelling, so when their children are just as excited to ramble their little tales, adam can only love his family all the more.

even as his children get older, and adam understands them less and less, he is always a very adored papa. there’s confusion and misunderstanding, but there’s always, always love. the moment adam knew he was to become a father, he vowed that there would never be anything but love within those castle walls. no child would ever run in fear, unless a storm was raging outside. in which case, adam and belle’s safe and warm bed would always be there for the little ones to climb into for refuge.

ultimately, he’s just so proud of them. he’s so honored to be their father. it takes him a long time to settle into this second chance at life. even after he marries belle, even after their first, second, and third child is born, it all still feels like a dream to him. his life as a king and husband and father is not without frustrations, qualms, and annoyances, but it is still such a wonderful life that he’s been given. and he never once takes it for granted.