#plastic mailing bags

[hezhongxi435]

Biodegradable material-PBAT PLA resin It is mainly used in the production of disposable plastic bags, plastic tableware, express packaging, agricultural mulch film, medical supplies, agriculture, forestry, animal husbandry and fishery, etc. If you're interested in, pls contact me via: Mobile/WhatsApp/Wechat: 8615000766658 E-mail: hezhongxi435@gmail.com

[arctic-hands]

Is it infuriating my disabled, food-allergy having ass who doesn't live near a grocery store within walking distance on a good day has to order groceries from Amazon in order to survive? Yes. Do their new silver-foil insulation bags for frozen things mean I now have free wrapping paper for birthdays and holidays? Also yes

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

[rigginsstreet]

What is the point of having recycling bins if you cannot recycle anything

[lathrine]

i wanted to draw some tonight before i go back to work tomorrow, so of COURSE i sat down and spent an hour and a half obsessively thinking about a stupid fucking spam call until i made myself upset and vaguely ill from stress and anxiety

[bi-writes]

Simon short circuiting when his mail order bride does something kind for him :)) uses her new credit card to buy him his favorite tea and cat treats for bonding with his new baby <3

mail-order bride

simon lets out a deep breath as he slips his boots off. he pulls his tact vest over his head, dropping it beside his shoes before rolling out his neck. he's exhausted. he's been awake for 36 hours at least, and not even a few hours ago, he had been camped out on a rooftop with nothing but his sniper rifle for company.

you pad into the living room, dressed in cute cherry-printed pajamas. little shorts with a matching short-sleeve top, and you smile shyly when you see him standing by the door. your eyes wander a little; you've never seen him with his gear on, and he's surprised you're not more startled by the skull mask he's wearing.

his head darts to the side when he sees the cat hopping along the shelves on the wall. the cat launches itself off the closest shelf, landing on the back of his shoulders and nuzzling along the back of his head before dropping onto the floor to weave between his legs.

"welcome home," you say softly, coming closer, and simon just nods. you reach up when you get closer, slipping your hands under his hoodie to find the hem of his mask. you pull it up gently over his head, smiling a little wider when you reveal his face underneath. he has eye-black smudged around his eyes, but otherwise, your husband looks his normal self, aside from the dark circles under his eyes.

you understand immediately that simon isn't in a good mood. he's irritated, tired, sour-faced and agitated. you smooth your hands down his chest before kneeling on the carpet. simon blinks, confused, but then he watches as you start to unbuckle the holsters around his thighs. you get him undressed enough that he's just wearing his jeans and his hoodie, and he takes your hand gently to help you stand back up. you hook your pinkie around his, guiding him to take a seat on the couch before you disappear into the kitchen.

simon leans his head back against the couch, shutting his eyes gently. to come home to a warm place, one filled with another person, it's frighteningly comforting. he has always come home to the dark. to the heater off and all the rooms empty. to silence and his own terrifying thoughts.

"simon?"

he opens his eyes and sits up a little, blinking the sleep away as you come closer. he hums when he sees you holding a mug, walking slow as you try and keep it steady. you hand him the mug, watching as he takes a slow sip of it.

he shuts his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. it's perfect. he's never told you how he prefers his tea, but it's got just a splash of milk and nothing more. the thoughtfulness warms him more than the drink does, and he curls his toes a little as he tries not to think about it too hard.

"oh!" you smile. "i-i...i filled your car up, and i-i got you something when i went to get a water."

you scurry towards your purse by the door, rummaging through it before you pull out a little crinkled paper bag. you sit next to him on the couch and hand it to him after he sets his tea down on the coffee table.

he reaches into the bag and wraps his hand around a little plastic trinket, pulling it out. he blinks, hooking a gloved finger through the little keychain he's holding. he holds it up, face neutral, but after a few moments, a low chuckle leaves him.

it's a little skeleton, and the bones of it wiggle and dance when he shakes it.

"i...i thought of you when i saw it," you laugh a little, and he watches as the cat hops up onto your lap, moving over your legs to sniff at the little skeleton simon is holding up. after a few moments, the cat reaches up with a paw and smacks the skeleton, watching it shake and wiggle before smacking it again.

"yeah?" simon murmurs, meeting your eyes. "you miss me?"

"y-yes...yeah. w-we missed you."

[kitasuno]

we fly together | kageyama tobio x reader

in which kageyama tobio is born for several things: the court, his team, and you. and he really, really wants to marry you.

wc: 766 | gn reader | little glimpses of your relationship with tobio over the years

There are several givens in Kageyama Tobio’s life. 

There’s volleyball. It’s in his blood. Volleyball is shoes squeaking on floors, the shrill of a whistle, Nikuman after practice, and that sweet, sweet feeling of connection– fingers brushing yellow and blue leather and palms aching after a serve. Kageyama Tobio was born for the court and born to fly. 

His team is one of them. There’s Sugawara, who still treats him to yakitori and an Asahi Dry (or three) whenever he’s back in Miyagi. Daichi sends him assorted nuts from Sendai every once in a while and Nishinoya mass e-mails him slightly blurry pictures of his life abroad on New Years. Ushijima buys electrolytes for him and Kourai. Shouyou is, well, Shouyou, and Kageyama counts him as two givens. 

There’s the small things too: he takes a little too long to read Kanji, he buys a new face wash every month, he will always avoid rush hour. 

And then, he thinks, there’s you. 

It hits him in full force in the middle of the street on a Tuesday evening as he holds a plastic bag of groceries. It also, consequently, renders him immobile for ten minutes, because Tobio had never been one to dwell on the givens. But as he stands on the pavement and his bag carries the burden of hashi for two, yogurt for two, two packs of sandwiches and four bags of gummies,

 ( because you really like those gummies: and Tobio had thought, if you like the grape flavor, then you should also try the strawberry. And if you wanted to try something new, you might crave the fizzy Cola ones. And if you liked the Cola ones, then he had to buy the Ramune flavored ones, too ) 

Tobio gets the urge to buy a ring. And an urge, no, a craving to marry you. 

Tobio remembers study sessions in high school and desperate makeouts in Karasuno’s dusty storage closet. He remembers the firsts: first conversation, first fight, first kiss, first date. Sprinting on beaches before the sun kissed the horizon and laying underneath the stars. He remembers graduation under cherry blossoms and pressing his second button into your palm with red cheeks and shaking hands. 

There were tears, too. Anger as he realized he couldn’t, for once, be selfish and have both you and professional volleyball. Anger as you had cried and cried and cried in his arms because you were getting your degree in Miyagi and he was moving to Tokyo. Anger as you had suggested breaking things off because you knew that Kageyama was born for the court. To fly. 

And you had said, between tears, that Tokyo was his potential. Because you knew him, and you knew that he didn’t like texting and that he wasn’t good at communicating, but you somehow underestimated how much you meant to him. Then: you had stopped crying because Kageyama was crying. And you had never seen Kageyama cry. 

You were there when Kageyama started on the National Team, standing in the bleachers with the biggest smile he had ever seen, jumping as you turned to show him the Kageyama embroidered on the back of your jersey. You were there when he accepted his position on the Adlers, and watched their broadcasted games behind textbooks and journals and pencils from your dorm in Sendai. 

Kageyama was there when you called him sobbing because the pipes in your dorm leaked. He was there when you got fired from your part time job for slapping a customer. Begrudgingly, he was there when you asked him to have Oikawa Tooru sign twelve jerseys for your friends at university. And then, he was there when you graduated college, diploma in hand and a blush on your cheeks as you pressed your button into his palm even though you really weren’t supposed to do that. 

Now you’re in Tokyo, having accepted his slightly bashful request for you to move in with him– in a nice apartment on the fourteenth floor overlooking the city; because even though he didn’t really like heights, he knew you loved city lights and people-watching. And if he had to cover his face when he saw the nameplate next to your shared apartment that read Kageyama, well. You didn’t have to know that. 

He’s still on the street, and he’s still holding his grocery bag, but his eyes are firm because he really wants to make your last name Kageyama. 

So he makes a phone call. 

“Tanaka-san,” He says before his former upperclassman can react. “Where did you buy Shimizu’s ring?” 

[cornstarchbags]

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[bunnywritesjunk]

My King

Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?

Chapter summary: You get a call from your mother regarding your match. You are nervous to meet them, but they turn out to be a pleasant surprise.

Pairing: König x Fem Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI (no others for this chapter)

Word count: 4.1k (damn thats a lot for me)

Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there.

A/n: Yo Yo Yo whatup. New fic dropping. This one is black/poc coded but anyone can read. I haven't seen any poc coded cod fics just yet (if you know any send them my way). If you do not like Omegaverse fics please do not read. Also I tried making a cute little mood board, i think it sucks but I tried my best. Konig art credit. (I couldn't find the art credit for the girl). König and reader are neurospicy. I got inspired to do an Apex Alpha König from @ghostlythunderbird go give them some love please. Also this is kinda what I imagine him looking like.

Next Chapter

Chapter One:

His back ached as he climbed the few steps to his door. The passage back to his home was uncomfortable. All König wanted to do with collapse on his bed. The duplex he resided in was decent, the little old woman who rented it to him was very sweet. König had a hard time getting anyone to rent to him. His status as an Apex alpha was concerning for most people. They believed him to be violent and inconsiderate. His landlord is an omega that lives with her alpha mate. König managed to convince her. She thought he was sweet and kind. He opened the foyer door that lead to both apartments. He glanced at the mailbox, wondering if he should wait until morning. Begrudgingly, he took out the small mailbox key and fiddled the metal box open. He grabbed the plethora of mail and closed the box gently. The box was filled up quite a bit as he had not been home in a couple of weeks. 

Heading up the stairs he filed through the mail. Most were junk coupons and magazines, some were credit card sign-up letters. One envelope caught his eye. It had no company name just a large white manila envelope addressed to him. He opened his door and stepped inside placing the mail and his belongings on his couch. He ripped open the envelope and took out a thin book. It had the circular logo of the AOMO, the Alpha Omega Match organization. 

König started at the cover his heartbeat sped up the longer he thought about it. He signed up for the program after a particularly hard mission he had in KorTac. He left and joined the 141 and decided he wanted an omega. A lot of the men in the 141 had partners they could come home to. König wanted that. Most people were too afraid to be in a committed relationship with him. König often settled for one-night stands with betas but it left him feeling empty. He opened the packet to the first page.

'Congratulations!' The first word read. His heart beat harder the more he read. 

'We have found you a match!' König's heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. 

'In the plastic wrap, we've provided a fresh scent sample from your potential match. If you like the scent of your match, please send us a scent sample from you as soon as possible.' 

König gripped the packet and leaned over the table, putting his weight on the table. He took a deep breath, he felt a mix of fear and excitement. When he signed up he was not hopeful for a match. He assumed his situation was too complicated for them. He flipped through the packet before reading the rest searching for the scent sample. A plastic bag fell out onto the table. It was sealed and had a verification sticker assuring its authenticity. König picked up the bag carefully. It had a square of white fabric inside it. He took his hood off before opening the bag gingerly. The scent instantly made his knees weak. This Omega had a warm and spicy scent. Coconut and sugary vanilla with hints of sandalwood. König stuffed his nose into the bag inhaling the deep rich smell of this Omega. 

König sealed the scent sample wanting to savor it. He opened the packet back up to the first page. It said once he mailed his scent sample and was approved by his match, they would arrange a meeting with him and his match. There was more information about this Omega and their family along with the reasoning for them picking them. They informed him that this omega was a twenty-six-year-old female. Her father is also an Apex Alpha, he is retired American military. They did not provide a picture of any matches because they wanted the connection to be based on instinct rather than looks. Her mother is an Omega that works as a teacher. There is not much else about the Omega but, König is hopeful. He reads the instructions to send his scent sample. They provided a kit with a form envelope, a small square of fabric, and a plastic bag, almost identical to the one he received from his match. 

'Wash your hands, and rinse any dirt off of your scent glands.'

'Then remove the fabric from the plastic.'

'Rub the fabric on your clean scent glands for 20-25 minutes.'

'Seal the fabric thoroughly in the bag provided .'

He shed his vest and protective gear, the last thing he wanted was for her to smell dust and gunpowder on him. König tried to quell his excitement as he followed the directions. Rushing to his bathroom and then back to his dining room. The fabric square was slightly smaller than his palm. He cupped the crook of his neck, sandwiching the fabric between his hand and his neck. He rubbed gently filling it with his scent. He read the rest of the packet as he rubbed. The rest was mostly semantics about the company and its policies. He combed it a few more times trying to memorize every piece of information about his Omega. 

König smiled gently, he shouldn't think of her as his yet. She smelled so good, too good for him. He smelled the cloth every once in a while to ensure his scent was potent enough. When he was done he placed it in the bag and sealed it. He filled out the form and packed the pre-paid envelope neatly. He grabbed his keys and left his apartment to go to the mail drop-off on the corner of the block. He needed to send it today, he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't. He walked back to his apartment having long forgotten about his back pain. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked at the list on your phone pushing your shopping cart. Buying the week's groceries had fallen to you this time as your mother was dealing with state testing for her students and your dad was on a hunting trip. You maneuvered the isles expertly collecting the items on your list. As well as some extra sweet snacks you like to indulge in much to our mother's chagrin. You were about to put a pack of Oreos in the cart when your mom called.

“Hello?” You answered but all you can hear was excited screeching. You held the phone away from your ear until she quieted down. 

“He accepted you!!!” She screamed. 

“What? Mom, you're too loud.” 

“The match company! The match they picked liked your scent.” She giggled. 

You were slightly stunned. Your parents signed you up for the AOMO when you were eighteen. You weren't that on board with it but you let them. You know they only want the best for you. You kept sending scent samples every year but they never got back to you about anything. Now, six years later they show up with a match for you. 

“I just got the call, they're sending a scent sample for you right now it's gonna get here in a few days.” 

“Wow...” That was all you managed to say. 

“Now I know this wasn't your ideal way to meet someone, but just please be open-minded sweetheart.” 

You sighed. “I will. I'm finishing up at the grocery and I'll head home.”

“Alright, I'm gonna be home soon too, bye sweetie.” 

You hung up the phone and stood in the aisle. You placed the pack of Oreos in the cart and moved to get the rest of the items before checking out. 

When you arrived home your mother was there waiting. She squealed and hugged you before helping you take the grocery bags inside. 

“I am so excited for you! I have heard so many good things about the AOMO. I bet whoever they picked is gonna be great.”

“Let's hope.” You say. 

The next few days went by quickly. You dove into writing your next few chapters to take your mind off of the match. The sequel to your best-selling fantasy novel was underway. Your days consisted of writing, planning, engaging with fans, and talking to your editor. You typed out the outline for the next few chapters when you heard a knock. 

“Come in.” You said. 

Your mother walked in holding a large envelope. “Guess what came today?” She said excitedly. 

 Your heart thumped with anxiety. She placed the envelope on your desk.

“I’ll leave you to it, let me know if you like them.” She sauntered out of the room happily. 

You picked up the envelope and opened it pulling out a packet of information. You flipped to the first page. 

‘Congratulations!’ It read. 

‘The match we have chosen for you wants to meet you. Once you contact us with your acceptance of their scent, we will arrange for them to meet you and your family with the chaperone of one AOMO agents to facilitate. The two of you will go on a date and get to know each other before deciding whether to move forward. If you do not accept the scent, we will put you back in our database to be matched with someone else.’ 

In the middle of the pages, there was a plastic bag with a white cloth in it. You picked it up and sighed. You doubted you would like the scent. Most alphas were off-putting to you, either way too strong of a scent of they smelled like dishwater. You opened the bag casually and took a whiff. Your inner Omega preened at the musk that erupted from the bag. 

“Oh my…” You inhaled deeply. 

This Alpha…smelled good? He smelled like chocolate and dark roast espresso. There were some hints of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. You caught yourself before you got lost in his scent. You sealed the bag up and took a breath. Maybe, this would be a good experience for you. You scanned through the rest of the information looking over what little they provide about this Alpha. He is a male Alpha, non-American but they did not specify what country. The only other thing they said about him was that his demeanor was shy and that he is military. The instructions said to call the number if you wanted to meet him. You reached for your phone a little too eagerly and dialed the number. A woman’s voice answered.

“Hi, you’ve reached the Alpha Omega Match organization how may I help you?”

“Hi, um I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail, and I want to meet him.” You said awkwardly.

“What’s your name and date of birth?” You told her, nervously. 

“Please hold while I transfer you.” 

The light piano hold music came on, you fidgeted with your sleeve. 

“This is Kara, how may I help you?”

“Oh hi, I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail and I would like to meet him.”

“Alright, let me get your file from reception she’s sending it right now…Ah got it. Oooh ok great I am your agent that will be facilitating this meeting. Your parents will want to meet him yes?”

“Definitely.”

“Ok so, what we will do is you and your parents will meet me at a public space of your choice then. I will bring you to meet the Alpha first, then your parents. We like to keep parent meetings brief as they tend to try and challenge the Alpha. I will have you know, this Alpha is an Apex like your dad. That is one of the reasons we chose you as his match, you have experience with an Apex. Will you be comfortable with all that?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Your head was reeling from all this information. Great, I see you guys are in New York City which is one of my favorite places to visit. Do you have anywhere in mind to meet?” 

“Um, we could do the Highline, there’s food, and it's pretty.” 

“Oh, that’s a great idea let me write it down here. How does September ninth at noon sound to you? A weekday so there are not too many people.” 

Your heart jumped, that’s in two days.

“Uh, sure.” 

“Alright, I will send you a follow-up email regarding our plans all you need to do is confirm. Your match will be notified, and his flight will be booked as soon as we receive confirmation. Do you have any other questions?” 

“No not at the moment.” 

“Ok, don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any concerns. I will see you in a few days.” 

“Bye.” 

You put your phone on your desk and walked out of your room. Your mother was standing a few feet away from your door. When she noticed you, her face lit up.

“So? How was the scent? Are you meeting them?” 

You smiled and nodded “Yup, in two days.” 

She squealed and captured you in a bone-crushing hug.

“I can’t wait! Let’s go tell your father!” She practically ran down the hall. 

You walked to your living room where your otherwise stoic-looking dad was watching TV. 

“Tell us about them, sweetheart.” Your mother said. Your dad turned the volume on the TV down and looked at you expectantly.

“Well, I don’t know much but, I know he’s not American and that he might be shy…He smells good.” 

“That’s important, I hope you wouldn’t pick someone who smells like shit.” Your dad chimed in. 

“He’s also military, and an Apex.” You added quickly. 

Your mother gasped quietly, and your father raised his eyebrows.

“Now that’s intriguing.” Your mom said smiling.

“You already booked a meeting with him?” Your dad asked. You nodded. 

“You should’ve asked me first.” He pinched his nose bridge in annoyance. 

“Well, he’s my match and I wanted to meet him.”

“Apex Alphas are dangerous. I would know.”

“Oh, please honey it’ll be fine.” Your mother ridiculed him.

“It’s my choice, Dad. You guys are the ones who signed up, I finally got a match, so I want to see it through. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll call it off.”

Your father growled lowly. “Fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your mother insisted to dress you in a cutesy outfit, so you let her have her moment. She dressed you in a dark floral dress that hugged your curves just right. She added dainty jewelry along with your protective collar. You didn’t usually wear it but again, she insisted. She did your hair half up half down. Your dad was waiting by the front door with your mom’s purse in hand. 

The train ride there was silent, your mother looked utterly content while your father was peeved about this whole situation. You arrived at the station and walked to the Highline. You got a text from Kara telling you what she looked like and where she was. She was wearing a dark blue pencil skirt and a white blouse. She stood up as you and your family approached. You stuck your hand out to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you guys, come sit.” She said motioning to the bench she was on. 

Your father stayed standing while you and your mother took a seat next to her. 

“So, there are some things I want to go over with you all and then I’ll talk to you privately and do the official meeting ok?”

“He’s here?” You said in an almost panicked tone.

Kara chuckled. “He is here but I left him to wait somewhere out of sight for now.”

She continued. “His name is König, he was born in Austria. When we did his psyche and personality evaluations, we found that he has neurodivergent tendencies, like you. Our matches with people that have a similar way of communicating have gone well.”

“Wait, neurodivergent?” Your mom chimed in. 

“Yes, your daughter did show signs of some behavioral abnormalities, but she is high functioning.”

“I told you that Mom.” You say giving her a deadpan look. Your mother looked down and gave a small ‘hmm’. Kara continued. 

“He does struggle with social anxiety so please be patient with him. Other than that, he currently lives in Amsterdam, if you choose to go forward that is where you will live.”

Your dad finally spoke “Is Amsterdam safe for people like us?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh yes, Amsterdam has many people from different places and backgrounds. It is one of the most popular immigration and tourist countries, don’t worry.”

“Alright, how about you come with me, and we’ll get your meeting started.”

Kara led you away, you turned and did a small wave to your parents your mom smiled back at you warmly. 

“So, I will be in contact with you the whole time. If you want to go just say the word, I am never going to be more than a couple minutes away. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have any issues with him.” 

She led you to a restaurant below the high line, it had indoor and outdoor seating. There were a lot of people laughing and drinking. Your heartbeat sped up as you scanned the crowd. The scent of food entered your nose. Everyone’s scent in the dining area mixed into an indescribable concoction. Among the borderline overwhelming smells, you got a hint of something familiar, espresso. 

You scanned the large room trying to pinpoint where it was coming from or if you were just imagining it. I dark figure near the corner of the room caught your eye. He looked way too large for the chair he was sitting in. He was looking down at his hands, dirty blonde hair covered his forehead. He was wearing a black cloth mask along with a form-fitting black shirt. As soon as you walked in he raised his head. You looked away pretending you weren't staring at him. Kara led you straight to his table.

“This is König.” She gestured to him. 

He stood up to shake your hand still keeping himself hunched at the waist to appear smaller. You shook his hand and smiled as you introduced yourself. He nodded and said a small 'hmm' to acknowledge you. 

“Alright, I'll be near. Have fun.” Kara left swiftly.

You sat down in the chair across from him as he did the same. A wave of anxiety came as you did, not knowing how to break the ice with him. You picked up the menu and scanned it.

“Did you order yet?” You ask.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Well thank you, what looks good?” 

“The Steak frites look pretty good.” He glued his menu.

“I'm excited for dessert, they have chocolate cheesecake.”

He chuckled and it made your stomach flip.

“You like sweets?” He asked.

“Very much.” You smile at him. 

The waitress came over and asked if you wanted any drinks. König looked at you, waiting for you to order first. 

“I'll try the elderberry gin and tonic.” You said.

 Konig was about to order when the table next to us erupted in loud laughter. He jumped slightly before answering the waitress. 

“I'll get the house Lager.” He said. 

The waitress left to grab the drinks. The adjacent table was still very loud. The group of friends hollering and screaming obviously day drunk. Konig had his head slightly turned away from them in an attempt to lessen the noise. It was subtle but you could tell. You reached into your bag and brought out a pair of foldable headphones. You turned on the noise cancellation and gave them to him. He looked slightly confused. 

“Put them on.” You encourage him. 

When he did the noise muffled and the restaurant was much quieter. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease by the second. His scent sweetened

“Is that better? Can you hear me ok?” 

König swears he could've kissed you right then and there, but he settles on a nod. 

“Thank you, Leibe.” 

“No problem.”

The waitress came by with the drinks and asked if the two of you are ready to order entrees. You ordered the fish and König ordered the Steak. While you waited, you two had a pleasant small talk about his flight and how he is enjoying his visit. He hesitated to take off his mask at first so you focused on your menu to give him the space to be comfortable with you. You glanced up and took in his face. He was beautiful, he had scars on his face that added ruggedness to his chiseled features. König noticed your scent amplify as you gazed at him. His inner alpha pushed him to be closer, to know more about you.

“So, you're in the military?” 

He nods. “I work for a military contractor. Do you work?”

“Sort of, I'm an author so I work from home.”

“That is nice, are you published?” König was secretly very happy he'd get to have you at home all day. 

“Yes, I am. I'm working on my sequel right now. Do you like to read? Or, do you read in German?” 

He chuckled. “I have not had much time to read lately, but I will now.”

“Well, you have to buy my book of course.” You giggled. 

König nearly fell off his chair at the sound. This Omega was everything he wanted. He prayed to whatever god was up there that you felt something with him. By the time the food came you both fell into a comfortable rhythm. He asked about your childhood and hobbies. It was a change of pace, most Alphas are very self-centered, but he is putting effort into getting to know you. The food came out and you both ate. He offered bites of his food for you to try which you happily returned the favor. By the time you finished your food, you hadn't noticed how much time has gone by. Kara texted you to check-in. 

'Hey, so I saw things were going well so I let you guys talk for an hour and a half but, your parents are getting antsy. Are you guys ready to see your parents?' 

“Oh, Kara is asking if we're ready to see my parents.” 

König fiddled with his fork. “I'm ready.” 

He paid the bill and you both left the restaurant. You took in the full size of the Alpha you matched with. He was no less than a giant. He held the door for you but stopped before he walked through. 

“I forgot something, I'll be back.” He walked back into the restaurant. 

Kara walked up to you. “How did it go?” 

“I...really like him...”

“I know, that feeling is scary. I think you guys are a wonderful match.”

König came out holding a small to-go box. He handed it to you, you could tell he was smiling under his mask. 

“What's this?”

Inside the box was a slice of chocolate cheesecake and a fork.

“We forgot to order dessert.” 

You were stunned, you didn't think there could be Alphas that were so thoughtful. Your inner Omega soared, this Alpha was courting you so well. 

“Thank you, König, that's really sweet.” 

“Ah, here they are.” Kara said. 

Your parents walked up to the three of you. Your mother had a surprised but happy look on her face. Your father kept his deadpan face from earlier, not a good sign. 

“Wow, sweetheart you caught a big one!” Your mom chuckled. 

“Parents, this is König.” Kara said. 

Your mother introduced herself and your father as he stood there sizing up the taller Apex. 

“Alright, let's keep things brief parents do you have any questions for König?”

“Well, as long as she likes him I don't.” Your mother said. 

“Can you protect her?” Your dad asked putting some venom behind his words. 

“I would never let anything happen to her sir. You have my word.” König answered without hesitation. 

Your dad nodded and looked at you. “You like him?”

“...Yeah I do.” 

“Alright then, that's all that matters.” 

“Well, I think it's safe to say that the match is made. I will contact you for the next steps. Parents, let's let them say goodbye.” Kara led your parents away.

You turned to König. “Thank you for meeting with me, I had a really good time.” You saw a faint blush at the top of his mask. 

“I also had a good time, liebe.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Ah...it means love.” 

“Oh well...” You motioned for him to come bend down close to you.

When he got close enough you pecked his cheek. 

“I'll see you soon, love.” 

[1americanconservative]

Here is a wonderful little story A young cashier told an older woman that she should bring her grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment. The woman apologized, "We didn't have this green thing back in my day." The young clerk said, "Your generation did not care enough to save our environment for future generations." She gave him a firm stare and a hard grin and said “Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles, and beer bottles. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over. They were recycled. Grocery stores bagged our groceries in brown paper bags, which we reused for numerous things. We walked upstairs because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks. Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throwaway kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power did dry our clothes back in our day. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing. Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. The TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief, not a screen the size of the state of Montana. In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded-up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity. We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades with a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull. Back then, people took a bus and kids rode their bikes instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service. We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 23,000 miles in space to find the nearest burger joint. But the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the green thing.” The cashier stood there still and quiet as the old lady found her wallet to pay. Then lady turned to leave but stepped back and turned toward the cashier. She said “You have a world of knowledge in that little device in your hand. Pity you just use it to gossip, take pictures, and waste time. It would do you good to search a bit of history before you embarrass yourself like this again. Forward this to another selfish old person who needs a lesson in conservation from a smart-ass young person.

[teaboot]

Do people, individuals, the populace at large- Are 'They', 'us', 'we'- are you aware of the way that things are? When you push a coin into a shopping cart, do you feel the mechanism click and know that the chain has been pushed out the other side? Do you see a hole in a chain link fence and understand that a single strand of wire could be slipped out, unzipped, like a loose thread in a blanket? How often is it normal to see a person on the street and wonder if they love the shirt on their back, or if they simply found it inoffensive and pleasant enough the last time they were in need of a shirt?

Do you see graffiti on the ceiling of your local bus stop and for a moment, feel the slightly-loose bench wobbling a little below your feet as you stretch an arm up with a sharpie marker, your chest a little tighter, the air a little harder to breathe? Just for a second?

Do you use the wrong jug of milk to slide the other jugs backwards when you put it back? Or do you place it on a different, empty slide?

When someone comments on the ugly tile floor, do you answer without thinking, "it's to hide shoe streaks", then find yourself in sudden silence, and learn that it was unusual insight? From what? An unusual thought? An unusual observation? They say you're clever, and you shrink a little. The vain part of you warms, because you're special. The rest of you is tired, because you're different, and that's noteworthy. Why is it noteworthy?

A woman at the store selects bananas from a display and puts them into a plastic produce bag. You wonder if she knows why that seems strange to you. You wonder why you wonder that.

What is common knowledge, and what is not? Eight billion people on the planet, and I want to know how every single one experiences stepping outside to collect the mail at 10:24AM on an overcast Tuesday morning in an ugly shirt and bare feet.

Perhaps then I would know why.

[trashmouth-richie]

master list

Eddie x fem! reader

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNINGS ⚠️

Absolutely no minors, gtfo. Hopefully everyone has read the warning post from earlier this week regarding this chapter. it is extremely dark themed.

Heavy violence

References to past rape/ assault

Blood, gore

Domestic violence

Somnaphilia

Character death etc

A/N: please know your limits. I love you and let’s get into this chapter so we can move on.

The brown popcorn bag spun lazily in the microwave like an oily inflating balloon. The steady hum of the appliance kept you company as the countdown to the sad supper ticked to an end. The cheerful ding springing you from the staring contest you were having with the counter top. 

  The small radio you had purchased was sitting on the counter, the soft belt of Linger by The Cranberries was playing for what seemed like the tenth time today and you couldn’t help but feel the lyrics in your blood. 

  Unaware of anything out of the ordinary. A typical night after working at the bar. Showering and throwing on a pair of pajama shorts, tucked next to the pair of Eddie’s boxer briefs you had found last week. 

  After investigating why the washer banged all to hell when even the smallest of loads were in it, wedged tight under the plastic agitator were his underwear. 

  And you’d be a fool to say you hadn’t broken down and sobbed in the basement on the discovery. 

  You dried them and folded them neatly next to your delicates. The same drawer that held the worn and tarnished pig ring he gave you as a Christmas gift, and the envelope full of cash. 

  The water works started again. 

  Hot tears flooding your eyes, the simple act made you feel like he was home with you. But the nightmare always continued.

  You missed him so much. 

  “But you always really knew

I just want to be with you

  If you were a tiny bit more awake you might have caught that the door to the garage was locked even though you had no memory of locking it yourself. 

  ..And I'm in so deep

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

  Rustling the steaming bag from the microwave with burnt finger tips, you toss it on the counter hastily. Sucking your fingers into your mouth to dull the stinging redness away.

  Do you have to let it linger?

  And maybe it was then that if you weren’t busy nursing the premature burns, you would have noticed the odd set of keys on the counter next to the mail, pushed to the side by the buttery bag of popcorn. 

  Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?

  Bending at the waist to the lower cabinet you reach around for the smooth plastic of the yellow popcorn bowl. Upon standing you feel dizzy. You hear it before you feel it, the loud thwap of something heavy against the back of your head. The pain is searing and turns your vision to black. You’re passed out before your head even hits the floor. 

  (1987)

  The November air whipped into reddened skin, striking out any heat you had left in the confinements of the peach sweater you borrowed from Nancy on your frozen walk to Forest Hills Trailer Park. 

  It happened again. 

  And this time it wasn’t an accident, no matter how much he begged, no matter how many times he said he was sorry. 

  He hit you with a closed fist. 

  You weren’t flirting with Dustin. He was your friend. Way before Chad had taken any interest in you. Most of your friends were guys, besides El and Max, and even though Nancy Wheeler was older and more popular— you considered her a friend too. 

  When she left for college this past fall, she insisted on making her room more stylish to your liking. And she never once minded the twin beds you both slept in, a night stand between them. 

  But when Mike sat next to you at lunch and was going over notes from Kensington’s class, Chad’s mind twisted it into Mike hitting on you. Which led to Chad hitting on you, but instead of compliments and doting behavior— he drug you out to his car, a bony grip on the back of your neck.

  He screamed at you with every vein protruding from his tan skin. Voice hoarse and throat stretched tight. 

  Apparently you were fucking people behind his back. Even though you were a virgin. The town whore! He had yelled loud for even some of the teachers to hear, all turning a blind eye to the obvious domestic abuse happening on school grounds. 

  Explaining yourself only made it worse. 

  He slapped your face hard when you opened your mouth to interrupt him. And when you stood your ground and raised your chin to him, calm and steadily telling him to go fuck himself, he swung a fist into your eye. 

  And that’s when you left. 

  His apologies trailing behind you and caught in the gut of wind to travel far away from your ears. He wouldn’t follow you, he had appearances at school to keep up. 

  Much easier to tell Aaron and Sean that you got your period and were being crazy then explain why he had left school.

  The gravel crunched beneath your feet, frozen from the last winter storm and holding pockets of ice amongst the rocks. 

  Pale blue and still holding the old television lawn ornament, you sighed audible when Eddie’s van was parked outside of the aluminum sided trailer. 

  You hadn’t seen him since graduation last May. The night Chrissy’s extra curricular activities with Rick finally came out when they were caught fucking in the shower upstairs, at Steve’s house. Both sporting pricked arms with needle marks. 

  A broken hearted Eddie drank all night long and puked into the hot tub.

  Your quickened steps up to the concrete stairs and a shaky broken knock on the screen door have you stepping back waiting for the door to open, awaiting Eddie’s stupid grin waiting on the other side. 

-

  Living with Eddie you had no reason to be afraid. Many nights the front door was left unlocked. And maybe it was out of habit. Maybe you had left it unlatched tonight too. 

  It would explain how he was there now. 

  Hovering over you, his blond hair coined perfectly slicked to the side, slightly feathered back with thick styling gel. A Ralph Lauren polo with the logo on the left chest. His cologne reeked of some designer brand, making your stomach queasy.

  The only difference between those years ago and now was that he had a small dusting of a flesh colored mustache wiggled on his sweaty lip. Same maniacal inky blacks to his blown pupils, laced with the piercing blue. 

  The realization ices your veins and stings your eyes with angry tears. 

  Chad Cunningham was in your home, his body over yours as you're pinned beneath him, the smell of iron invading your nose. Looking around with wild eyes you see the crimson streaks from the linoleum in the kitchen to the carpet where you are laying. Your head thumping with the rhythm of bloody drops against the fibers of the worm carpet.

  “Been a long time hasn’t it, honey bun?” 

  An eternity wouldn’t have been enough. 

  Pressing his body into yours, you can feel the stiffness of his starched shirt as you try to will your arms to fight him away. He chuckles at your feeble attempts to push him off.

  His weight presses deeper into you as he lowers his mouth to your lips, squeezing your face he almost sings,  “Told you I’d see you soon.” 

  His lips are harshly planted into yours, feeling like jagged rocks against your soft waters.

  “Fuck,” he groans, hard against your thigh. “just like I remember. I’ve missed you.” 

  The clink of his belt unthreading from the loops of his khakis finally renders your senses. But you wait with calculated timing. 

  Leaning back, he stares into your face with a quizzical expression burrowed deep on his brow. “What’s the frown for? Don’t you miss me? Aren’t you happy to see me?” 

  Evident that his delusions still ran deep, it’s showtime. You would survive this. One good hit, that's all it would take. 

  Pushing yourself up gently, your head is swimming with nausea and the steady dripping tick of blood down the back of your neck. 

  Placing a shaky hand to his cheek he moves into your hand, the same way Eddie had that night, your stomach somersaults at the memory. 

  When his eyes shut, you turn your fingers into a clawed position, and scrape the flesh from the corner of his eye down to his lip. 

  It happens quickly and with your blurred vision and pounding head it feels like it’s all in slow motion. He wasn’t expecting it. 

  A kick to his ribs hurt your bare feet probably more than it injured him but you needed the extra time to escape into your room. 

  The phone feels cool against your cheek, and weighs heavy on your shoulder when you realize it’s dead. The plan of you running in here, dialing 9-1-1 and holding him off until they came was foiled. 

  “BITCH! You can’t hide from me!” 

  Knowing you only have seconds before he finds you, you 

frantically look around for something to defend yourself with. Searching eyes land on the window. 

  Just need to get out and run to Mr. Griffin’s house. 

  Fingers on the frame you yank upwards, palms digging into the wired screen, pushing it out.

  Throwing your leg out into the darkness of the night, you’re one step closer to being safe. One step closer to ending this night of horrors before it could begin. 

  The noise of splintering wood and the crack of a door being snapped from its hinges join your erratic breath and piercing screams— a monstrous reel of symphonic sound. 

  Chad twists a thick fist into your scalp, freeing the hair from its follicles in a sickening pop as you scratch your nails into the window sill, trying to hold on.

  He’s stronger than you, no different than years before. And when your body crumbles onto the floor with a squelching thud, splinters of lacquered wood and nails that once held the door in place, pierce into your exposed skin. 

  But that is minor league compared to the shattering pain delivered from his fist into your face as he straddles you.

  “Think you can hide away with that freak from me?!” He rocks his closed hand into your other cheek, this time clipping your eye with a gold wedding band.  

  Your cries fall on deaf ears. Tears stinging and trying to drip from your swelling eyelids. 

  “Honey bun,” he purrs into your ear, “don’t tell me you’re that fucking stupid to think I wouldn’t find you.”

  His fingers move to brush your hair from your face, and he holds your head in place when you try to bite at his fingers. 

  His wicked smile could make the devil’s scaly skin crawl. 

  “Such a dumb whore, forgetting I have eyes and ears all over this town.” Placing his grabby fingers on his breasts, he continues, “Aaron and Sean may not be the brightest candles on the cake but they are loyal.” 

  Aaron…Sean. 

  You rack your brain for any recollection of those names.  and it finally clicks. Chad’s friends in high school, following him around like he was the King. A snap of his fingers and they’d move like henchmen. Fighting anyone who got in his way, putting themselves at risk just to say they had a friend from a rich family. 

  The realization swims in your eyes and scares your tears dry. 

  “No.”

  “Pieced it together huh?” Chad laughs wildly. “They work..” he grunts, hips rutting against you, pinching your perked nipples in his tight grasp, his fingernails digging through your shirt around the delicate skin, making you squeal, “..with the freak!” 

  His deranged cackle doubles when you yell out in pain. 

  “Small town bosses don’t lock their offices, and it was too easy for Aaron to find your address, even easier to find out that Eddie had left your ass here, unguarded, alone, waiting for someone to save you, and honey bun here I am!” 

  His sick twisted smile oozes fear further into your gut, brooding and feeding on any small amount of joy you had left. 

  “You need a fucking psychiatrist.”

  “Such harsh words for that sweet mouth, but don’t worry!” he reassures, eyes wide with delight and a psychotic expression on his face as he brings his voice low and secret-like, “I won’t kill you yet, the boys are looking for Munson and when they find him…” he lowers himself to kiss your lips, sliding his tongue against the split flesh. 

  “Fuck!” He bellows, licking his lips savoring your taste on his tongue, “when they find him they’re gonna bring him here, and it’ll be arranged to look like the freak killed you and then himself.. a lover’s quarrel gone bad.” 

  He rubs his face and grunts again at the warbled wails you let out, squeezing your breasts and bucking into your clothed crotch. “Goddamn,” he groans, his eyes rolling into his head at the sound of your cries, getting off on your distorted face, “I just couldn’t help myself, had to come here and do this first. One last goodbye.”

  You’d rather be dead at this point. You wish he’d kill you now and get it over with. But the thought of Eddie seeing your lifeless body haunted you. And you stop crying when his hands close around the hollow of your throat. 

  “Gonna be mine, one last time honeybun?”

  “Fuck you,” you croak beneath his hands on your throat.

  You’re weak and running out of time. Rolling your tongue against your teeth and cheeks, harboring a mixture of saliva and blood you wait until Chad is leaning over you, and when he’s close enough you spit the concoction into his face.

  Chad bellers out, letting go of your throat and standing abruptly to wipe his face. The split second he’s distracted you try to crawl away, but he kicks you down. 

  Delivering several soccer styled strikes into your stomach, his voice spewing insults with every jab of his white Nikes into your body.

  A raging shock of fury paints his face.

  “What did I tell you hmm? If I can’t have you— no one can!” You scream loud when his shoe propels into your crotch, shocking your pelvis with burning heat. 

  All noise is void when he rolls you over and crashes down on your beaten body, clobbering your tear and blood streaked face, blow after blow.  Your eyes are swelling shut and you’re surprised when you see Eddie’s face, before your eyes shut. 

  It feels like home. 

  -1987-

  The warm smile you missed so much was not there to greet you. A cold calloused “what?” finds you instead. 

  “Eddie?” you ask with a scratchy throat, clearing it once, twice, to answer him against the wind. 

  Grumbling and stomping in the trailer is heard. Along with two separate giggles. 

  The door is yanked hard inward revealing a version of Eddie Munson you’d never seen before. His skin was sunken in on his cheeks, dark circles rimmed his eyes. His once soft features were sharp and lackluster, brooding with ashy shadows and skin that looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight in months. 

  He looked gaunt and hallowed out, his ribs poking against the cindery color of his skin. The warm whiskey eyes that once danced when he laughed were now gaping blacked marbled, polar and dull. 

  He speaks but you are too busy holding your breath from the stench of rotting clothes and unwashed bodies. 

  Stumbling over an apology for not hearing him, you are startled when he barks back,  “I said, what the fuck are you doing here, Tooty?” 

  You look to the floor and notice he’s wearing a heavily stained sock with a hole in the toe, the other foot bare, next to a pair of work boots are three pairs of women’s shoes:, heels, keds, and pink reeboks. Your toes wiggle in your worn converse. 

  “I’m.. I uh..” 

  Eddie rolls his eyes, “oh for fucks sake spit it out! You selling raffle tickets or something for school? Pep team need new Pom-poms? Or maybe the chess club is looking for a new board?” 

  Shock stealing your speech you stand on frigid feet digging your fingers into the yarn on the Nancy’s sweater. Tears bite your lashes and fall on cold cheeks. 

  Eddie! Where’s your lighter? A sultry voice coos, padding feet getting closer to the threshold. 

  “Listen kid, I’m fucking busy, I don’t have time to haul you around because twiddle dick and dum forgot you at the gas station again.” 

  He has barely looked at you since you got there. The guy who held more merit to you than your own brother was gone. 

  When you wipe your eyes on the sleeve of your sweater  he lets out an exaggerated groan. 

  He thrusts dirty fingers into his sweatpants pockets. Pulling out a perfectly rolled twenty dollar bill, he flattens it smooth. He smears his finger along the length of the bill, collecting remnants of a fine white powder, which is quickly shoved into his greedy mouth and rubbed on his gums like he’s brushing his teeth. 

  “Here,” he grunts, shoving the drugged money into your pocket, avoiding your eyes at all cost, “now get lost.” 

  The blinds on the door are still swinging as you stand there dumbstruck and watery eyed. Low voices are murmured through the thin walls as a lighter flicks and sizzles.

  Who was that baby? 

  Nobody. 

  And that’s exactly who you were to everyone you knew, nobody. 

  And ironically enough— that’s exactly who you could rely on. 

  One thing was for certain: Eddie Munson was a stranger to you. 

  The tears fell harder on the shameful walk back to Chad. But you weren’t sure if you were crying harder because of the sudden loss you felt from an old friend or because of the pain in your eye.  

-

  Heart hammering in his chest, Eddie jiggles the door handle, it’s locked and he panics and realizes he still has his key. Fumbling with the key ring, Eddie finds the short brass one and unlocks the door. 

  The sight of the mostly empty house is jarring, causing his stomach to drop , a small recliner rests in the living room where his couch once sat. Wine is spilled from the kitchen to the living room, smeared like it was swept poorly with a mop. 

  You never drank wine.

  Maybe you started drinking heavily after he left. He did. It only made sense. 

But a second glance at the claret colored stain embedded into the carpet and his worst fear was realized. 

  Blood.

  The sound of something wet and thwacking settles into his bones and shakes his spine. Someone was hurting you.

  Heavy docs lead him to the corner of the house, your room and his old room. Where his door was intact, yours was shattered. Like Jack Torrance took his ax to it in The Shining. Stepping on cracked wood, Eddie sees the most horrific thing he’s ever been a witness too. 

  And suddenly he’s six years old again, helpless. Watching a woman he loved lose a battle she didn’t even know she was in. But instead of his mother’s lifeless body crumbled by his father’s feet, instead of her dark curly hair matted with pooling blood and a gaping bullet hole— It’s you underneath a guy he doesn’t recognize.

  Your face is battered and covered in blood, the once plush lips he held so warmly between his own were split and slack. Your eyes were swollen, lacking any shine to them they normally held. 

  His eyes connect with yours for a brief second, and when they close he doesn’t know if they will open again. 

  Fury radiates through his entire body, masking the pain of heartache at the sight of you slipping from him. 

  Before he can acknowledge the thought of you being gone, he lunges at the catalog Dad dressed asshole. Knocking him off your body and landing on top of him, colliding into your dresser. The tangle of body parts wrestling for purchase tumble into the hall. Ringed fists land home on every surface of this guy's face, and when he stops to take a breath— he realizes the face he is hitting is Chad Cunningham’s.

  How did he find you? Had he been stalking you both since that day at the grocery store?

  Didn’t matter all that he cared about was throwing this mother fucker the biggest ass kicking of his life, and he wouldn’t stop until either Chad or himself was dead.

  “I’ve waited years for this day,” Chad spit, after getting a punch in when Eddie was in his own head, knocking Eddie’s jaw to bite down on his tongue, filling his mouth with blood immediately. “Trailer trash Munson finally came to play.”

  Taken by surprise, Chad shoves Eddie from him and stands up, looking through the doorway at your limp body. 

  Eddie stands slow, using the bathroom doorknob to help, he reaches for the knife kept in his back pocket. 

  Chad spins to face Eddie, his hair sweaty and face ballooning out from Eddie’s rings. “You should have left my girl alone Munson, would have saved your uncle the heartache.”

  Eddie flicks the blade open on the knife, grip tight around it, he breathes through his nose his throat tight and stretching around his words, his leather jacket creaking when he moves his neck around in a stretch, confident in his delivery, “she’s not yours.” 

  The hysterical laugh that leaves Chad’s lungs could resemble bats screeching in the night, he’d make a great clown in a haunted house. 

  “Dead or alive whether I’m married or not— she’ll always be mine.”

  Like alley cats, they stare each other down, waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

  Chad licks his lips and looks your way again, “listen, I get it, she’s hot. And that tight little pussy..” he licks his lips and grabs himself over his denim jeans, stained with your blood.

  Eddie’s blood is boiling, he’s seconds away from snapping but trying to hold it together long enough to make a perfect attack.

  Chad leans forward, gesturing a mockery secret with his hand held around his mouth, “It’s even better when she’s fighting you,” he inhales deep, like he’s wishing he was in a past memory, “screaming really tightens her right up.”

  Knife out, Eddie charges forward. And is struck dumb when the knife is kicked from his hand. Another kick this time to the chest that he wasn’t expecting sends him stumbling into the living room, air gone from his lungs. Chad follows and swings into his diaphragm making Eddie choke out on nothing, gasping for air. 

  “Oh come on, Munson,” Chad taunted, leaning down to kiss Eddie’s cheek, “Thought you would have some trailer park moves to throw at me.”

  Raising a heavy boot, Eddie stomps on Chad’s toes, and mule kicks his kneecaps. A ringed fist meets his cheek, adding another forming bruise to his winter tan skin. Shoving him backwards into the counter in the kitchen, the cabinet doors bust on the impact. 

  The punches Eddie is landing have his knuckles bloody and swelling but he doesn’t care. Each punch is a testament for the years you held yourself together, acted like nothing bad was going on, when in reality you were experiencing hell on Earth and he never knew. 

  This was his payback. His way of righting a wrong. A wrong that should have never even began.

  He doesn’t know what he was hit with just that he was stumbling backwards again. Temple throbbing and without reaching up he knows he’s bleeding. His back hitting the corner of the fridge he slides down onto the linoleum.

  His head is heavy and his vision blinded with hazy clouds of black and white. He hears Chad but doesn’t see him, just feels his head being slammed in the fridge and a grip in his hair. 

  “Could have saved your uncle funeral costs you stupid bastard… clearly you don’t care about him, or Tooty for that matter, leaving her all alone like that,” Chad sucks through his teeth, splitting blood onto Eddie’s shirt, “thought the raccoons usually stuck together.”

  He chuckles low and slams Eddie’s head one more time with such force it leaves a dent in the fridge. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he says, straightening his shirt, walking towards your room , “my girl is waiting.”

  “Don’t touch her!” Eddie roars, pushing himself up to stand with all his might. Pounding head and nausea thick in his mouth. Raising his head he looks at Chad with blurry sight, trying to see clearly. His voice is low, catching his breath and taking all of his strength to utter out the words. Balancing around the mark of deranged, “I’ll fucking kill you.”  

  Chad swivels on his heels, head cocked at Eddie, he grabs under his chin holding it firmly in place. His breath fanning over Eddie’s cheeks and he smiles maniacally, blood painting his teeth. 

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” A heavy fist to the gut has Eddie doubled over. Gripping the counter with white knuckles and wet blood smeared fingertips. 

  He had failed again. He wasn’t able to stop his own father from killing his mother. And now Chad was on his way to desecrate your lifeless body. He’s a fuck up and a failure. 

  Always. 

  A low guttural choking sound breeches Eddie’s ears. And he turns to see you covered in your own blood, barely standing and wielding a bat with nails protruding from every which way. 

  The nails are claret colored and dripping thick drops onto the carpet, fibers of Chad’s jeans hang in shreds from the sharp edges. A scant look towards Eddie and your eyes swim with relief and mourning. 

  He’s here. Blood is smeared down his lips and his hands look tight and swollen. 

  But he’s alive. And so are you.

  Eddie’s vision is doubled and he blinks rapidly unaware if he is seeing you or not. He swallows hard and almost chokes on tears.

  But that is short lived.

  And it happens fast. 

  The yelling rage from Chad’s lungs over power your screams. His hands are tight around your throat before you can blink, your spine snapping into the nearest wall, feet dangling off the ground. 

  Haziness bleeds into your eyes and your breath is expelled from screaming— now gone when your windpipe is crushing like a pixie stick under Chad’s grip. 

  Desperate to fight back you jam your thumbs into his eyes. Victor Creel style like the Urban Legends passed down that you were told as kids. 

  If you were going to die, at least he would be blind, a forever reminder of this day etched, literally, into his face. 

  You prayed Eddie would know how much you loved him.  

  Should have’s taking over the last puffs of oxygen in your brain, popping like bubbles. 

  Should have told him sooner. 

  Should have said it every day. 

  Should have kissed him more. 

  Should have let him love you. 

  The guilt wraps around your mind as the cold hands of death welcome you. But you’re not afraid. Knowing Chad always kept good on his word, Eddie would join you in the afterlife.

  Hand in hand. 

  Strolling along the pinked cotton candy clouds and the pearly gates. 

  You are his and he is yours. 

  Lovers together finally at last. 

  The last breath on your lips is a silent devotion to him. 

  I love you, Eddie.

-

a/n: my asks are always open ♥️

[21wanderer]

A career in music

“Hi Sebastian, sorry if I’m late.” I said entering the music room. I’ve had a busy day, with it being my final day of teaching.

The young man looked up from his guitar and smiled.

“No worries, teach, I’ve just been sitting jammin’ a bit while waiting.” Sebastian said innocently.

“Well, I’m not a teacher much longer,” I replied as I closed the door.

“Does it feel strange to have your last day today?” Sebastian asked curiously.

“Sort of… But it’s a great opportunity. I still wanted to talk to you about the strings, I’ve been pulling.”

“Yeah?!” Sebastian eyes lit up, he sat up straight, eager to hear, what I had to tell him.

“I’ve been talking to a producer at Alpha Centauri and showed him some of your music, and he is considering you-”

“What?! Are you fucking serious?! They really are going to let me-”

I had to cut off the excited young man, I handed him my phone; “Here, you can read the mail, he sent me, yourself.” He smiled a million dollar smile.

I handed him my battered old phone and pretended to be reading over his shoulder, as Sebastian excitedly read the quite long e-mail.

Unfortunately for Sebastian the mail wasn’t real, as a matter of fact, I had written it myself, but I just needed to be very close to him and have him be distracted. Then I jabbed the syringe into his neck.

The young man immediately lashed out, falling off the chair and dropping the phone in the process. He looked up at me with a shocked, but already somewhat vacant expression.

I immediately sat on top of him, pinning him down, pressing one hand against his mouth, whilst holding his right arm down against the floor. He was no doubt much stronger than me, but with the drug debilitating his body, it was much easier than expected.

“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” I said with apathy, “but this is the opportunity, I’m talking about.”

He tried retaliating with his left arm, but soon appeared to lose control of it, causing it to flail around randomly until the drug really kicked in.

When he stopped struggling, I got up and checked the door was locked, and then quickly took off my clothes, stuffing it into a plastic bag.

Sebastian was completely unconscious by that time, so I could take off his clothes with ease as well. His naked body was a sight to behold – young, strong and handsome, except slightly twisted as his insides had decayed.

I laid on top of what remained of Sebastian to squeeze out all the air and gunk still trapped in his body. It was like lying on a deflating balloon, a visible vapour left every orifice, and soon he was completely flat and empty.

“I’m done with teaching, now it’s time to take what should have been mine.” I monologued, as if Sebastian could still hear me.

I picked up Sebastian’s skin, shook it a little and marvelled at the result. Not hesitating any further I stretched his mouth wide and began slipping my feet inside. It was a struggle to get inside, but eventually I got my foot all the way down. The next foot was easier, and as soon as I could wiggle my toes within Sebastian’s feet, I could easily pull his strong legs into place as well.

I fed my dick into his hollow shaft, and it sprung to life, after which I could pull his gaping mouth over my butt. I pulled the stretchy skin further up my body, my own gut being replaced by Sebastian’s flat stomach.

“You’re by far the most talented musician I’ve ever taught, and I’m sick and tired of teaching, now I’m getting the music career, I always dreamt of when I was your age.”

It wasn’t getting any easier, but I was so close. Getting my arm inside his mouth, whilst being stretched around by abdomen was more difficult than anticipated, but I eventually managed to get one arm in, and the result spoke for itself. It was smooth, tan, strong… and mine! I flexed it a couple of times, and even stroked my arousal a couple of times… It was perfect.

After a little more struggling, I could plunge my other arm into his, and that was the last major obstacle.

With a simple movement, the chest and shoulders slid into place, and with only his vacant head dangling behind mine like a hood, I was almost done.

I gently ran my new hand over my new firm chest, feeling my pecs, both slabs of smooth and strong muscle.

“Just imagine how far the two of us can go together as one. I want the fame, the money, the-” I paused, that would be the last time, that I would hear my own voice. It was time to finish.

I stretched Sebastian’s mouth wide one last time, so it could swallow me whole. A tingling sensation rushed through my body and mind, as Sebastian’s mouth snapped shut around mine.

The sensation of darkness and unintelligible pictures and thoughts rushed through me, but suddenly there was light and clarity.

“FUUUUUUUUCK!” I growled triumphantly. Looking down my new body, I was beyond satisfaction. I instinctively looked up at the clock over the door. I had been here longer, than expected. I needed to slip into Sebastian’s routine, there would be plenty of time for self-gratification later, though I had to strongly repress the urges.

I put on Sebastian’s underwear, socks, t-shirt, pants, his signature necklace and wristbands. There was something particularly pleasing about claiming these personal keepsakes as my own. Finally, I slipped on his biker jacket, it was a perfect fit and still smelled strongly of leather and the sweat of the young man.

I picked up his guitar and the plastic bag with the last remaining traces of my old self.

I quietly left the room, wanted to head outside to get some fresh air and sun.

Everything seemed brighter and lighter outside the classroom as I stepped into the hallway.

But after having only walked about 200 metres, I felt unwell, as if the hallway was spinning. I needed to sit down, so I sat on the stairs leading to the upper floors. I suppose the transformation wasn't completely done yet.

As I sat here, waiting for the dizziness to go away, I decided to put this new body to the test. I strummed the guitar like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I could feel both my and Sebastian's talent streaming through my fingers and the notes they produced.

It was almost an unreal sensation. I was better than my old self, I was better than Sebastian, I was on a whole other level. The dizziness had precipitated, and I got back on my feet. A couple of girls passed by in the hallway, they had noticed my music, they smiled at me, and I flashed signature Sebastian’s grin right back at them. Once they were gone, I burst into laughter.

I grabbed my phone and gave a call to NewU Records, who were the ones I had actually gotten an agreement with, and they were going to make me their new star, all I had to do was give them a call.

Everything was set up for Sebastian. Record deal, new apartment and future career, all set up by me. From my savings I've even bought a white convertible, which I think would go extremely well with my new identity.

I took it for a spin later that night, like a totally insufferable, self-absorbed and enviable celebrity with the world at his feet. It feels so good, it feels so right. This is going to be sweet.

[bi-writes]

simon’s reactions to mail order bride finding another cat and bringing it home

mail-order bride

there's a ruckus outside. clattering inside of the rubbish bins, rattling the metal of them. and maybe it could've just been a wild animal, something tearing apart the garbage bags and making a mess, but then there were a few cries, squeaks of terror that were too unnerving to ignore. a cry of distress that wouldn't allow for a good night's rest.

simon throws the back door open. there's a few soldiers milling about, leaning against the outside of the mess hall and barracks as they have a smoke or play some cards. some of them are playing games under the lights, kicking around footballs for a laugh. but he hears it, right around the corner, little eeps and have his neck craning as he turns into the alleyway behind his office.

there's a set of bins there that reek. but he can see the rustle of plastic moving, and when he picks up the top bag and clicks his flashlight on, he's met with fierce hisses of a little orange tabby kitten, with red around her eyes and oil sticking to her fur.

"fuckin' christ," simon mutters, sucking on his teeth. he doesn't know why he's out here. normally, the sounds of it wouldn't even force him to blink twice, but he couldn't help himself, he had to follow it. he looks over his shoulder for a moment, debating, but his mind is already made up.

he thinks of you. his pretty little wife, probably curled up on the couch at home with your candles lit and something warm in the oven. the cat is probably snoozing on one of her shelves, one of her arms hanging over the edge and her little face squished into the cushions he had installed on top of them recently. he thinks of your pretty face and your glowing smile, and he hears your voice in his head as he looks back down into the bin and makes eye contact with the mangy little thing again.

he reaches down and grabs it by the scruff of its neck, lifting it up. her little paws spread, showing her tiny claws, and he sighs, holding it out in front of him as he makes his way back to the barracks.

"what in the living fuck is that, LT?" a bubbly voice laughs. simon continues to hold the kitten out at arms length, his boots heavy as he heads towards the washrooms.

"wot the fuck does it look like, sergeant?" simon snaps. johnny picks up his pace so he can walk beside him, laughing as he smacks simon the back of his vest. simon pushes the door open, dropping the kitten into the sink.

it continues to cry and yip at him. he turns the water on, reaching over for a bottle of dish soap and squeezing it until it splatters against the kitten's back. johnny watches from the doorway as simon tries to scrub the little thing clean, cursing at it all the way as he tries to get all the gunk off of it.

"stop fuckin' squirmin'," simon huffs. "ow! oi! ya lil' shit!"

when simon turns the water off, the kitten is shaking in the sink. simon looks around for something to dry it with, and when he finds nothing, he turns to look at johnny.

"give me your shirt," simon demands. johnny stands up straight.

"what?"

"did i fuckin' stutter? give me y'r bloody shirt, sergeant."

"but! but tha's--"

"an order," simon barks. "give it ta me."

johnny rolls his eyes, gripping his shirt from the back collar and pulling it over his head before tossing it at his lieutenant. simon catches it, picking up the kitten and wrapping it in johnny's shirt before tucking it into the crook of his arm.

"'m goin' 'ome. tell price i'll be back in a few days."

"y'r goin' home? it's late, and we--"

"goodnight, johnny."

you jolt awake when you hear the front door. you rub your eyes, sitting up in bed, but you relax a little when you hear the sound of simon's boots in the living room dropping by the door. you get out of bed, putting your slippers on. when you flick the lamp on, simon is standing in the doorway of the bedroom, in full gear and his skull mask as he looms there, his head nearly hitting the top of the threshold.

"simon?" you croak softly. "i...i thought you weren't gonna be home for a few days."

he's holding something, a ball of bundled-up fabric, and you sniffle as you come closer.

"what is it?" you ask. "is something wrong?"

and then you hear it. the softest little chirp, a squeak coming from his arms. you lean over a little, reaching over and pulling back the fabric, and you let out a little gasp as you see two little yellow eyes blinking up at you, surrounded by tuffs of wet and wild orange fur.

"oh! simon!" you breathe, putting a hand to your chest. "wha...w-what--"

"was in the rubbish," simon mutters, clearing his throat. "i couldn't..."

you look up at him. you can only see his eyes, dark with eye-black smudged save for his blonde lashes, and you soften when you see the way he's looking down. he's frowning, but you know he isn't upset. simon cares, more than he'd like to admit, and you reach up with one delicate hand and touch the skull gently, stroking the cheek of it.

"i know," you say softly, smiling up at him. simon sighs, a little shakily, you notice, and you pass your thumb over where his lips would be before taking the bundle from his arms. you hear what simon doesn't say, understand what he's having difficult accepting, the things that aren't possible for him anymore, the things he has to do to keep himself sane now that there's a voice in his head that always sounds just like yours.

helpless, sweet little kitten, with claws like knives and a temper unlike that of simon's. the thoughts that went through his head, you know them, even if he doesn't tell you. when he saw this little thing, when he saw those big eyes.

i couldn't leave her behind.

no. he couldn't.

[formulaforza]

Haiiiiii could i request Logan Sargeant and the prompt “I brought you flowers.” ”for what reason?” “There has to be a reason?” Love your writing keep it up!!

"Lo!?" You called from the apartment kitchen, letting your keys and your bags and your water bottle clatter down against the countertop. "Are you home, babe?"

You flip through the mail while you wait for a response, sort between the very few important pieces of postage and the rest of the useless kindling that had filled your mailbox.

You move around the kitchen peninsula to the trash can, dropping the junk mail into the bag, and that's when you see the clippings--green stems, probably two dozen at least, and even more leaves in the bottom of the trash, along with two plastic wrappings.

You hear Logan before you see him, his feet moving heavily, wood floors creaking under his every step as he emerges from the hallway. "Hi," you greet, looking up to meet his eyes.

You instantly frown at the sight in front of you. Logan, in a pair of sweats and no t-shirt, stands at the entrance to the living room. His hair shoots out in every direction, and he groggily rubs sleep from his eyes when he returns the greeting. "Hey," he says with a soft, sleepy smile.

"Why is there flower clippings in the trash?"

"I bought you flowers," he yawns, moving through the living room, around the kitchen peninsula--leaving a kiss on your shoulder as he passes--and properly into the kitchen.

He unscrews the top of your water bottle and takes a drink. "For what reason?" You ask.

He laughs into the bottle, "there needs to be a reason?" and his voice echoes off the metal before he takes another drink.

grab a bite (sized fic)

[cornstarchbags]

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