#so all I can really do is miss them and miss the comfort of a dream that says I could forgive them

[gay-dorito-dust]

damian wayne fluff pls

Damian didn’t have much of a childhood, at least not a one he could look back at fondly and proudly. So whenever he saw you indulge yourself in an adult colouring book had him was conditioned into thinking was boring or childish, and yet he would still find himself missing something that he couldn’t put his finger on without becoming irritated.

‘Damian?’ Your voice brought him out of his thoughts as he looked over to you, seeing that you had stopped colouring to stare at him with concern.

‘Yes?’ He replied, not liking the fact that he has been interrupted from his reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

‘Would you like to colour in a page of this book with me?’ You asked as you gestured to the book in front of you and Damian scoffed, going back to his book. ‘No, I don’t partake in childish activities.’ He responded.

‘Is that what you believe or what you’ve been told to believe when with the league of assassins?’ You said all of a sudden and Damian bristled as his eyes darted to every possible corner of the room, almost as though the aforementioned league could be overhearing your conversation from their hiding spots.

‘What makes you say such a thing.’ Damian hissed as he moved to look at you but you were far more interested in colouring the page of your book, hyper aware of the stare he was giving you but you didn’t care you just wanted him to know what it’s like to be normal, even if it was for five minutes. ‘I just think you deserve to do something that you can look back on and remember that not everything is bleak and downpours of rain, it can be warm and golden.’ You shrugged your shoulders as you finally allowed yourself to look over at Damian, who had a conflicted look across his face, and you couldn’t help but bring your hand over his and squeeze reassuringly.

‘It’s okay to let the walls down Damian, you’re not there anymore, you’re with me and you can find yourself here if you feel comfortable enough to do so.’ You continued as Damian closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He knew he was in a safe place with you, that he didn’t doubt, but he couldn’t just bring his walls down all that easily even if he wanted to and he really wanted to. However he didn’t know how to without relapsing into old ways that’ll end in you being pushed away as a result; he was scared of how things would end for him if he dared to open his heart just a little.

‘What good would that do me?’ Damian says sharply. ‘End up with everyone I know dead because I decide to give one person an ounce of trust and let them into my life?’ He adds and he felt you squeeze his hand again but also the caressing of your thumb against the back of his own. ‘You’re a great judge of character Dami, you wouldn’t have trusted me otherwise and I’m grateful for that, but have I made you distrust me yet?’ You questioned him and Damian knew that you knew the answer to that, and it was no.

He looks at your hand and squeezes back softly, making you smile, before he gestures to your colouring book. ‘Is the offer to colour one of your pages still available?’ He asks and you were quick to share your colouring pencils with him as you presented the book before him to pick a page of his choice. ‘Oh absolutely.’ You replied as you made yourself comfortable next to him as the next hour you and Damian spent colouring in pages and making the other laugh.

[machveil]

I can't resist the siren call

Roommate!Simon Riley that low-key enjoys fucking with your friends Y/N

subtle foreshadowing… I suppose I can dip into my nsfw Roommate!Simon Riley thoughts

Roommate!Simon Riley who shares a laundry bin with you, it had been agreed a long time ago that just doing a big load would be easier. you takes turns, knowingly stealing each other’s clothes every couple days when the laundry is fresh out the machine. you know Simon took an oversized t-shirt you owned, but that’s okay, you took his favorite gym hoodie

Roommate!Simon Riley who doesn’t get embarrassed about his underwear being in the bin with yours, it’s all going in the machine anyways. that doesn’t stop him from raising an eyebrow though when his favorite boxers go missing. he was sure he put them in with the dirties, well, the cleans now. he figures the machine ate it, or maybe they’ll show up some day by chance - he shrugs it off and separates his clothes from yours, snagging one of your oversized sweaters to lounge in later

Roommate!Simon Riley who freezes when he sees you on the couch that night. eyes wide and jaw slack, he can’t bring himself to move. sat watching something on the tv - he can’t be bothered to acknowledge whats playing - he stares at you, wearing his boxers as shorts. “Hey, come watch this— I’ll catch you up since it just started. I’m not pausing it though so you better pay attention.”, your words are all in one ear and out the other. suddenly his legs are moving on their own, stopping in front of you. he doesn’t register what you’re saying, telling him to move because you can’t see the tv, but then he speaks

Roommate!Simon Riley whose voice is deliciously deep, a little raspy from how his throat suddenly feels dry, “S’that mine?”, he asks, eyeing his boxers. he’s never had such a hard time swallowing before, heartbeat erratic as you casually respond, “Huh— oh, yeah. They’re really comfy, the fabrics nice.”. fabrics nice, yeah, he knows. “You— ya know those are boxers, right love?”, he asks, hands twitchy as you reply, “Mhm, just borrowin’ them.”

CW: guilty wank, man is hopeless [kisses his cheek]

Roommate!Simon Riley who’s a mess after that interaction. you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him, but he’s losing it on the inside. he’s seen you be audacious with stealing his clothes before, taking his loose-fit tank tops that left little to the imagination on you, stealing clothes you knew he favored and parading around in them, but his boxers? that had him stalking back to his room, quick to turn on his heel before you could see his pants tent

he’s sweating, closes the door to his room a little harder than he meant to. god, he wants to go back out there and see you again, get an eyeful of how comfortable you looked - wearing his boxers like they were yours. you wouldn’t know, and he can’t help but think about it, but you had stolen his favorite pair. they’re plain, a simple black pair, something he bought at the store because he needed new underwear. but when you wear them? they suddenly looked different, makes his heart hammer against his chest. it feels like he walked out into the living room and you wearing lingerie, not something he got for fifteen pounds

he feels a little guilty, shoving his jeans down his thighs as he sits down on his bed. you’re home, sat in the living room just down the hall, and here’s Simon fishing his leaky cock out of his underwear. he really shouldn’t, he should sneak into the bathroom for a cold shower, think about war and blood and bullets to get his boner down. but he isn’t, he’s spitting into his palm and groaning, bringing his free hand up to cover his mouth - he’s never been good about keeping quiet. it’s not his fault you were out there wearing his clothes, you were the one that decided to look so— so cozy and content in your makeshift shorts. domestic

when that word settles at the forefront of his brain Simon’s hips jerk, you looked domestic, wanting to watch some show with him. his leg jolts slightly, hand moving to shallowly pump his weeping head. maybe your friends are right, Simon does take care of you - could bend you over and make you sob his name - he’s basically your boyfriend, often mistaken for your husband. his thighs tense when he imagines a ring on your finger— no, his dog tags hanging from your neck— god, holding you at night as an actual couple—

he’s choking out a moan, muffled and hoarse, as he coats his hand. eyes fluttering shut and breathing heavily, all his thoughts fly out the window as his cum drips down his fingers - all his thoughts except for one. he’s going to have to go back out there later to eat dinner with you, and oh, fuck, he sucks in a deep breath as he chubs up again

[beloveds-embrace]

Your expiration date au.. with omegaverse.. what if I add fuel to it *rubs hands mischievously* you said the chip will eventually kill reader, and what if it starts slowly? Reader starts to slowly lose their scent, their urge to nest, etc. and the t141 notices and asks reader about it but they make up some excuse like using scent blocking soap and not being in the mood, etc etc. because reader doesn't want them to worry. It goes on like this until it starts to get worse and the t141 don't even see the stuff reader said they were using, so they urgently asks reader about it. Reader still refuses to tell them, fearing that the last moments they'll share will be filled with sad gazes and fruitless attempts to save reader. It gets to the point that they start arguing about it. Until you start to lose your ability to smell other people's scents (and other stuff that connects and avails reader to spend time with the t141 that has something to do with a/b/o dynamics lol idk much about omegaverse, sorry 🙏). Reader start to panic, because t141's scents are a source of great comfort to them and they endure it for a while and before reader completely loses their sense of smell of other people (they can still smell normal stuff like food), she confesses to t141 about the chip. You can decide how they'll react, I just wanted to add fuel to the fire (angst) 😼😼😼 btw I use they/them pronouns for gn reader, sorry if it's not to your liking! (I completely forgot what pronouns you use for reader.. or if you ever used them lol)

Anon… who hurt you 😫 okay but the idea of no longer finding comfort even in the nest you’d painstakingly made, the nest covered with their clothes and items so it’s soaked in their scent, the nest that should be one of your most precious things ever- except now it smells like nothing and is missing such an integral part of what makes it a nest?? Oh, the angst is real with this one.

Not helped by the arguments that are keeping you seperated from your pack, your alphas, but when it starts to get really, really bad you just kinda have to throw away the arguments and confess the truth about the chip and your expiration date and why your scent is all over the place in stress and worry and fluctuating. Not an easy conversation but it’s necessary, because you don’t even give the chance to fully come to terms with it before you are _begging_ them to not abandon you now of all time, right when you need them the most.

(They’d be so crushed tho. Feel so… useless because their omega is sad and dying and according to your own words, there’s nothing they can do to even save you even if they refuse to believe it. There has to be something and they swear to find it, but comforting you is priority at the moment.)

[glitter-stained]

Agreed! And personally when I say he should mess up, he should mess up greatly. This is probably because I'm starved for representation of abuse that doesn't portraits abusers as monsters evidently evil and full of ill intent, but I'm totally down for abusive Bruce Wayne. Yeah, sure, have the literal Batman berate and psychologically abuse his kids, neglect to address super important stuff in their background only for it to blow up in your face when they're confronted with it on the field, I'm even down for him to hurt his kids! As long as the narrative doesn't agree with it.

The thing is, with the narrative (and some takes from some very hardcore fans) is "this isn't actually abuse because you're missing key context". And then you look up and the context can be super complicated, with a whole lot of intense stuff going on, and it can be a very good explanation for what is happening, and it is still abuse. I think the issue is with the portrayal we usually have of it we see "abusive" as a personality trait, something really bad people do. It's safe, and comfortable, and it allows us to feel comfortable in our knowledge that because we're trying our best, we couldn't possibly accidentally become abusive. And on that ground, it's perfectly valid to refuse your childhood hero being some terrible monster who hits his kids! But the thing is, abuse isn't a personality trait, it's an action, and actions are extremely context dependent. If you're in an extremely high emotional situation, and trying to handle three different crises at once, and your child is being intrusive while you just need some space and you're mental ill and having an episode and you hit your child -that is still physical abuse. (And yeah, you can also abuse your adult children). And that means you have to acknowledge that it was abuse and it hurt them and you shouldn't have done it. What that doesn't mean is you have to define yourself as a horrible person and a failed parent.

The danger resides in two complementary courses of thinking that follow from these ideas :

1. abusers are awful and terrible. + i hurt my child, doing something that follows usual definitions of child abuse. + I know that there was a lot of context going on and I feel like it's not fair to define myself just based on that action while ignoring the context = I don't fit my conception of an abusive person because of the context = the context means that I wasn't abusive = the context justifies taking actions that would be usually characterized as abusive => chronicization of abuse.

2. abusers are awful and terrible. + my parent hurt me doing something that follows usual definitions of child abuse + I know that there was a lot of context going on and I feel like it's not fair to define my parent, whomst I love and consider good, just based on that action while ignoring the context = they don't fit my characterization of abusive parents because of the context = the context means they weren't abusive = the context justifies actions that would otherwise be characterized as abusive = I wasn't actually abused = child doesn't speak up /avoids potential help/remains in the unsafe situation.

These are called justificative thoughts! And of course, we get similar thoughts in bystanders who know there's a lot of context going on, know the abuser personally etc. (They also work with intimate partner violence and even murder!) Examples include the all time famous "but he loves me!", "it's not what it looks like, she was only trying to keep me safe", "but what if I'm not stern enough and he grows up and become a criminal? He'll get hurt worse in prison, I'm protecting him!" "He can't possibly be an abuser, he's so kind! He was so sweet when he supported me after my mother died!"

The thing with the "you know I'm only doing this to protect you" line is we often know it as a very vicious manipulation technique. But it's not always the case! It's not necessarily a lie. Punitive abuse isn't (necessarily) practiced for the pleasure of hurting the child, it's a parent trying to raise their child and believing that this is the best way to teach them. That's why it's so important to acknowledge that good intentions in abuse exist and they don't justify it! Whether or not someone is lying to you, manipulating you or not when telling you this isn't what matters most: it's that right now, they feel hurting you is an acceptable way to get to that result, and it's still abusive, and you don't have to accept it just because they mean well.

So yeah, I'm pissed off when dc does exactly that, brushes Bruce being abusive aside and justifies it time and time again instead of addressing the abuse. I think the reason I personally want abusive Batman rather than a huge retcon is that a hero, someone who does so much good and tries and fights so hard to protect what he loves, someone like that failing so bad at parenting and then learning and becoming better, would have been revolutionary growing up. Still would be today, honestly. We need to humanize abuse, because we're gonna feel empathy towards abusers whether we like it or not and we have to choose if we avoid the discomfort it causes by using that empathy to justify not acknowledging the abuse, or treat abusers as human people that are capable of learning, that are sensitive to context (internal and external) and that can be, on many other fronts, perfectly good people. Instead, dc feeds us heaps of justificative thoughts like it's their personal mission because THEY have the same thoughts and don't want to contend with batman being "a dirty evil abuser" but they also love their edginess and shock value too much to stop writing conflict the only way they know how. And like, I know they're not gonna address it the way I want them to but then at least stop doing it- straight up stop portraying batman as abusive and justifying past abusive actions - and bury it under enough new, better batman/batfam stories that we can put this behind us as some kind of "edgy batman dark age". At this point that's all I'm asking, my expectations are so low but come on. I'm so tired.

The thing is that DC’s consistent choice to have Jason Todd blame himself for his own murder comes across less as maturity (the intent) and more like his self-esteem is so far down the toilet it’s been filtered through the Gotham water treatment facility and is currently being sprayed over Wayne Manor’s lawn.

[majinbangus]

Deeply curious about the conversation Soap and Ghost had before introducing Ghost as your guard dog. is this a regular part of their dynamic and they both missed it after soap got with you? Was it a forgone conclusion? Did one of them have to talk the other around to it? Lowkey (highkey) obsessed with this concept

i really love this ask -> more here

So before Soap brought Ghost home to you, Soap and Ghost didn't really have that 'owner/pet' dynamic, but the behavior was still there, kinda, if that makes sense?

Like, Ghost is always watching Soap's back and protecting him from something or someone, or he's standing back as the 'scary one' until Soap hands him the reigns while they're interrogating someone. Ghost is willing to follow Soap's lead, trusting the sergeant's judgments/plans/decisions, and he'll be there to 'save his arse' when he needs saving. That's a tacit understanding between them, and Soap knows that he can always count on Ghost to back him up.

This behavior does eventually leak into their day to day lives once they get more comfortable with each other, but it's not fully realized until much later. The epiphany only hits while he's on a mission. The one right before Soap was planning on telling you he'll compromise on getting a dog. He'd been thinking about how much you wanted one, and thought getting one of the retired military dogs would be a good compromise, albeit he was still extremely on the fence, even though he's worked alongside those dogs and the trainers before.

But while that was in the back of his head during the mission, Ghost told Soap to tell him when he had a clear shot of an enemy because he was in a shit position, and when Soap told Ghost to 'wait' and when to 'drop, 'em', that's when the lightbulb went off and Soap began reminiscing and noting every time Ghost behaved similarly to a dog, protective yet ready to defend- to bite. He listened to Soap's cues and body language, stepping in whenever needed.

Soap couldn't stop thinking about it. Ghost and his sweet lass. He didn't mind sharing, the match would be perfect. Ghost fit all the qualities Soap wanted your guard dog to have, and you would have a dog just like you wanted!

When he brought it up to Ghost, it doesn't take much to convince him to get on board with it. The man's interest was piqued. Soap was asking him to be a dog. Your dog. He already liked you, thought you were a pretty thing, and he was always willing to go along with what Soap wanted. He didn't mind embracing an owner/pet dynamic with you and to another extent, Soap. You wanted a dog and that's what Soap was asking him to be, so that's what he would do.

He'd have to figure things out with his military service, but that could be settled later. Soap told him he still had to tell you about the compromise, but once that was done, he'd be taking Ghost home with him. And once he did, as expected, Ghost took to the role as your guard dog swimmingly.

(Soap knew he made the right decision when Ghost barked for you, the new collar hanging prettily on his neck. He knew this wasn't what you were expecting, but you would learn to love your new dog, and Soap would be there to teach you everything you needed to know how to care for him too.)

[sakashq]

Not You Too. / Pedri Gonzalez x fem!reader

🪬 summary. you were already cheated on by an ex, so pedri promises to never do the same to you. what happens when he breaks his promise?

🪬 warnings. cheating &&. gaslighting 🤦🏾‍♀️

🪬 yap! i hate my ex so here’s this, sorry pedri lovers (bells) 🫶🏾 to @ar4ujos , @planetpedri , @hrts4havertz , &&. @halfwayhearted.

♡︎ - 346,028 likes ✎ - 103,028 comments

wagcentral: word on the streets saying this is Pedri… yourusername stand up 🤦‍♀️

user082 oh ffs pedri.

user012 fumbled a baddie 🫤

↳ user032 frr

user067 i can’t even imagine what she’s feeling rn.

user079 this is fucked up pedri wtfff

user101 she needs to LEAVE HIM.

user092 nonono my parentsss ☹️☹️

↳ user002 user092 bye they are grown and do not know you!!

↳ user043 user092 hey so actually he cheated on her! do you really want that as your dad?

Transcript of Y/n L/n and pedri💞’s phone call.

pedri💞: Hello?

Y/n L/n: What the fuck, Pedri?

pedri💞: Calm down, baby, what’s going on?

Y/n L/n: ‘Calm down’? ‘Baby’?! You fucking cheated on me, that’s what’s going on. [her voice begins to crack] Not you too.

pedri💞: What… What are you talking about? Y/n, I’m on my way to your house now.

Y/n L/n: [sniffs] To collect your shit I hope.

pedri💞: Don’t say that. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. What do you mean I cheated on you?

Y/n L/n: The pictures are out, Pedri.

pedri💞: What pictures?

End of call.

6 missed calls from pedri💞.

5 missed texts from pedri💞:

- I just saw the pictures. those arent recent

- I promise you it’s not

- I’d never cheat on you Y/n

- I love you so much

- Please don’t do this

Rain poured, mocking the tears from your eyes. You could see him outside through your window, drenched in the rain.

“Y/n, answer the door please.” You could hear Pedri outside consistently pounding on the door. He wasn’t gonna leave you alone; you knew you were gonna have to answer one way or another.

With mascara running down your face, you walked over to the door, in no hurry to talk to him at all. You reluctantly opened the door, being greeted by a pleading Pedri.

“Y/n…” He sighed, his face softening. “Please don’t cry.” He said as he went to wipe your tears away. You dodged him, not wanting to feel that spark from his touch. You couldn’t bare it anymore.

“You’re a piece of shit,” you spat out at him, showing him the photos and the screenshots you had been sent. “You’re a piece of fucking shit.”

“Let’s talk about it then, Y/n,” Pedri replied, downplaying your anger. He didn’t seem as upset as he should’ve been.

Tears continuing to pour just like the rain, you said, “You lie to my face about where you’re going and who you’re with then expect me not to find out? How the fuck can you tell someone you love them and then cheat on them?”

“Y/n, it wasn’t even like that. Those photos and screenshots are all from before you. That girl’s engaged now,” Pedri told you. You could see in his eyes and expression that he was genuinely sorry, no matter how nonchalant he tried acting about the situation.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me then? If it was before me why hide it?” You didn’t even know what you were saying at this point— you just knew you were mad.

Pedri answered with desperation in his tone, “I have nothing to hide, Y/n, I thought you knew.” Tears were slowly rolling down his cheeks, only making you more upset. You hated seeing him like this and you hated even more that you couldn’t comfort him.

“Then let me see your phone. Since there’s nothing to hide.” You crossed your arms, giving him a serious expression.

His eyes widened and he began to look around for an excuse. He managed to get out, “I… It’s— I left it in thr car.”

“Bullshit, I see the fucking print in your pocket. Bye, Pedri.” You scoffed with an eye roll, beginning to shut the door on him.

He held it open and started to plead. “Please, Y/n. I wouldn’t do that to you and you know it. I love you, Y/n.”

“Save it, Pedri. Don’t waste your time.”

[alchemistc]

@liminalmemories21 - this isn't exactly what you asked for but:

Abby C. 8:51 PM: So how'd it go? With the talking?

Buck stares at the message. Stares at the milk frother sitting in his counter, and the candlesticks he'd really considered dropping off the side of his upper balcony, ten minutes ago. (He's a firefighter, he knows how that ends. But, like. Still)

Bad, he texts back. So bad. But he also won't give me my sweatshirt back and I know he has it. Any sage advice?

It's a little weird to be texting her. She'd been one of the first people he'd ever talked to consistently on the phone, and he'd grown to enjoy it, grown to appreciate that voice in his ear.

Abby texts back immediately: I'm not entirely sure I know what that means. He actually LIKED you.

Buck can feel the buzzing under his skin, the rush of adrenaline at remembering Tommy not only not denying he'd loved Buck, but admitting off-hand that he still did.

It means I'm getting my man back, Buck sends, and then stares at the slippers he can see poking out from the right side of the bed.

His phone rings.

"You know," Abby starts, before Buck can so much as greet her. "I spent a long time beating myself up for not seeing this as a sign, but that's not the point."

"What... is the point?"

Abby chuckles. She sounds good. Happy. Buck is far enough removed from it to feel glad for her, and jealous of her, and then he's rolling right back around to being fucking livid that Abby and Tommy had both run. Different reasons, same result. A first of Buck's that'd just walked away.

"He used to watch movies with my mom constantly. All the terrible schlock that I couldn't stand - Hallmark movies, and D-Lister rom coms, all those trite based on true events Lifetime shows."

Buck nods. Waits for her to continue.

She doesn't.

"I'm not picking up what you're dropping down."

"He and my mom would just critique them all the way through. Just tear them to shreds. What was unrealistic, what was just plain stupid. She - mom was never more lucid than when she and Tommy were bemoaning the lack of reality in those movies."

"Listen, I already know asking him to move in with me was a dumb idea. I'm the himbo, remember?"

Abby pauses. "...that's what he called you?"

"Apparently all your mutual friends did."

Abby sighs. "The point is, Buck. They liked watching them because they liked talking about what real relationships were actually like. What happened after a curtain close kiss, how much a couple was gonna fight over the financial sustainability of a Christmas themed donut shop, what the fiance that got left behind in the big city was gonna do now that they were finally free of the person who'd spent the holiday season losing their entire brains. Tommy's a realist. He wants to be stopped before he gets on the plane, but he wants to be stopped because you already have a ten step plan to make things work. And he's terrified of giving too much of himself away to someone who thinks he shits rainbows and puppies and hasn't reckoned with the fact that he's just as screwed up as the rest of us."

"You swear more than I remember."

Abby laughs. " But you see my point?"

Buck doesn't want to. But he does. "Well, I definitely don't think he's perfect anymore."

"And you still love him." She says it like she knows. She says it like she'd once expected to spend a life with Tommy Kinard.

"And I still love him," Buck acknowledges, and they both drift into silence. It's comfortable. Easy. He sort of misses being able to talk to her about shit like this.

"Call me if you need anything, Buck."

Buck hangs up the phone with a million new, vaguely more hopeful thoughts swirling around in his brain.

Twenty minutes later he texts her one more time: This is the only sex thing you're getting from me - that thing he does with your nipples? What the fuck?

Abby C. 9:22 PM: I taught him that. You're welcome.

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

[planetpedri]

this is gonna make me sob into my pillow but #2 angst thingy with pedri 😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣

Peace — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: Breaking up after a a three year long relationship had hurt you tremendously, but when Pedri had texted you that he got injured and wanted you to come to the hospital… well you couldn’t say no.

Word count: 1.47k+

Disclaimer/s: Based off the prompt ‘Hold me, please?’ , angst to comfort / fluff.

A/N: hi im on an angst kick don’t expect much happiness coming out of bea’s blog.

You reread and reread Pedri’s text. Over and over and.. you get the gist. You couldn’t help the pity that built in your heart, but you also couldn’t help the anger that arose along with it.

It had only been a week, for God’s sake. You’d broken up a week ago and the wound was still fresh. Angry thoughts clouded your mind the whole drive to the hospital, all the way up the elevator, to the door, but the second it opened and your eyes landed on the man you had folded.

Every rage filled feeling disappeared, replaced by the overwhelming urge to comfort him. You hold back, cautiously poking your head through the door. “Uh, can I come in?”

At one side of the bed was Pedri’s mother, only furthering to the awkwardness of it all. Seeing your ex and his mother a week after you’d broken up was not something you imagined happening, yet, here you were.

María stood, her eyes darting between her son and the woman she’d grown to adore so dearly. She had to fight the smirk threatening her lips when she saw the tension in her son’s shoulders depleting.

“I’m going to the cafeteria to find your father.” She says, patting Pedri’s head, “it’s nice to see you again.” She offers you a kind smile before rushing out of the room.

“You too..” You begin, but she was already long gone. Left alone in the depressing hospital room, you find your gaze drifting to his leg. “Jesus..” You mumble.

Pedri doesn’t say anything, simply letting out a quiet hum of acknowledgment. He watches you carefully as you make your way to the side of his bed.

“I don’t.. I don’t really know what to, uhm—“ You were grasping at straws for something to say. Nothing came to mind, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks along with a nervous laugh.

The tan man couldn’t help the way his eyes softened and the small, barely noticeable smile of his lips. He’d missed you. Everything about you, he had missed. The breakup of course, was his fault. He been so stressed with football that he’d taken it out on you, saying things he didn’t mean but couldn’t take back.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He speaks, wearily. He wanted so badly for you to just look at him, he didn’t blame you for avoiding it, though.

“I feel like I probably should, I mean.. this is..” You were once again, at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry, this sucks.” Pathetic. That was pathetic.

Pedri was unfortunately, very injury prone. You’d been in this position many times, but this was different. You couldn’t rush to his side, you couldn’t shower him in apologetic kisses, you couldn’t do the things you used to. And those were the only ways you knew how to comfort him.

Your legs brushed against the hospital bedsheets, when you remember. “Oh! Shit, I almost forgot, I set them down outside the door because I wasn’t sure if they would be appropriate right now.. Wait, I’ll be right back.” And just like that, you were gone, leaving Pedri completely and utterly confused.

When you returned, you had a blanket and, what you’d called the ‘designated hospital hoodie’ in your hands. He recognized them instantly. Your favorite hoodie of his, and the blanket you’d used specifically on the nights he’d stay over and the two of you would fall asleep on the couch.

“I figured it would get cold in here, it always does.” You gingerly hand him the items, freezing when his fingers brushed against yours.

Pedri froze as well, his eyes snapping up to you. ��Sorry, uhm, thank you. Seriously.”

“It’s no problem.” You cough, “so! How are you? How bad is it?”

Shaking his head with a tired sigh, Pedri winced as he scoots over on the bed, his jaw clenching as he does. “Joder. [fuck] ” He hisses in Spanish, taking a second to speak again, “you can.. sit down y’know?”

Hesitantly sitting onto the uncomfortable mattress, your eyebrows furrow, “you shouldn’t be moving so much.” You scold, easily slipping back into your old concerned girlfriend mode. “How many times do I have to remind you there are plenty of chairs I can sit on?”

“And how many times do I have to remind you, that I prefer you closer?” He rebutted, the both of you pausing when you realize you weren’t allowed to do this back and forth anything.

But, you shrug the feeling off. Despite how things had ended, you loved Pedri. You cared for him. He was hurting, and you were not about to make him hurt any more by opening up the wounds that were still fresh.

“Well, your comfort is a bit more important than your wants.” You crack a small grin, “how did surgery go?”

Pedri huffs through a painful exhale. “I don’t want to talk about medical shit anymore. I’ve had to deal with my families badgering all day…” He hesitates before continuing, “I know this is overstepping, but could you just.. lay down? You don’t have—“

“I’d lay down if you weren’t hogging all the pillows.” You tease, “move your big head.” Shifting around to a sitting position beside him, you wiggle around till the thin blankets were out from under you and on top of you.

He laughs, the sound sweet and welcoming to your ears. You turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes directly for the first time since you stepped into the room. “This is only mildly weird.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, taking the blanket you’d brought and spreading it out over the two of you. “Another boundary crossing question…?”

“I don’t see why not.” You swallow, not knowing what was about to come out of your ex’s mouth.

“Hold me?” He asks with the saddest eyes, “please?”

Listen, you were no fool. You knew your actions would have consequences. This simple act was going to either lead to your heart breaking even more, or potentially causing you to go against your morals and allow forgiveness.

You couldn’t get yourself to speak, instead, you lift your arm to wrap around the back of his neck and your hand came up to rest on his head. Pedri automatically relaxes against your shoulder, letting out a long breath of relief.

You stay like that for a while, your fingers threading through his soft hair while the other hand occupied on his cheek, it’s fingers rubbing smoothly back and forth along his cheekbone. It had always been the way you calmed him down when he was upset. The familiarity tugged at your heart strings and in that moment you didn’t care how badly this was going to hurt you, you only cared it would make him feel better.

Plus, he always told you how much peace he felt when he was in your arms, and thats all you wanted him to feel in the moment.

“Pedri?” You quietly beckon him to look at you, which he does. His eyes fluttered open and a small hum leaves his lips. “You know I can’t stay..”

He tries to hide his disappointment, but you knew him too well. “I understand. Sorry, I shouldn’t have even asked you to come, I know I hurt you.”

“Hurt is one way to put it.” You quirk an eyebrow, hiding the genuine words behind a teasing grin.

His eyes flicker around your face, noticing every crack in your expression. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean the things I said. I can do better, I will.”

“That’s not enough. The things you said.. Pedri, I can’t just forget them.” Exasperated and ready for the conversation to end, you tap his head. “Just lay back down.”

Pedri shakes his head, “no, we need to talk—I need to talk about this! I don’t want you to forget, just hold me accountable and give me another chance.” His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “Please, cariño.”

That stupid, stupid, stupid pet name. The only one you ever really loved when it left his lips.

“Can we talk about this when you’re not suffering from an injury? Like, what, two months? When your head is clear, and i’ve had time to get over what you said.. you call me. Then, we can talk about it.” You push his head back onto your shoulder and rest yours against his hair.

“Okay. Two months?” Pedri’s hand that had wrapped around your waist, dips under your shirt, rubbing slow circles. “I can do that.”

Pressing a short kiss to his hair, you hum. “I’ll leave when your mom comes back. Don’t text me or contact me till those two months are up, got it?”

Pedri groaned, “nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any pedri posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to !

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Would Bill also rationalize that weridmagedeon could be apart of the twin’s birthday party?

Would one of Bill’s henchmaniacs accidentally try to kill one of the Pines family by accident and Bill just incinerates that said henchmaniac?

Food for thought, Bill and Stan have known eachother for 30 years. Stanley and Ford have known eachother for 17 until they broke off contact. Meaning that Bill has known Stanley and has been with Stanley longer than Ford has.

Like man, that must sting on Ford’s side of things.

Another thing do Bill and Stanley read fanfic together? Idk why but it kinda seems like something they would do. I also like how Stanley and Bill are agents of chaos, Gravity falls will not survive them.

I know you said that Stanley’s past comes back to haunt him, but how much does Bill know about Stanley’s past, like in general and because of drunk nights. You said that they’re in a unspoken game of chicken on who is going to admit who cares for who first but who is the one who actually admits it out loud first?

Also about that Gideon rivalry with Stan and Stanfraud pls tell me more I AM INTRIGUED BECAUSE YES GO MAKE ENEMIES WITH THAT 10 YEAR OLD BOY

How far does the rivalry go?

Also also also also does Stanfraud also participate in the catching a dozen eggs thingy like Stan? Idk why I can just imagine Stanfraud being pelted in the face with eggs.

What is Stanfraud’s opinions on Pioneer Day? I know Stanley hates it.

Cracking my knuckles. Okay. Let’s go:

— Oh absolutely. And it’s the best kind of birthday party too! Not to mention, it means they never have to go home, back to a house where everything feels like stepping on eggshells, and they hear their parents argue at night. Obviously it’s better here — a party that never ends, forever free from all human restriction and fear.

He finds himself feeling genuinely hurt when they act ‘ungrateful’ about it. He put a lot of thought into making it as comfortable for their tiny, human brains!

And as for the Henchmaniacs, if one were to be cocky, and go against Bill’s direct orders… yeah. They wouldn’t be around much longer.

— I was thinking about this. It’s genuinely so fucked up. Bill knows Stan better than Ford does, and not because of his all-knowing capabilities, but because Bill has spent more time around Stan, time that Ford missed. It’s the little things. Stan has a nickname for Bill that he let slip around Ford. There’s photos around the shack that Bill — in Ford’s body — is a part of, and he doesn’t seem out of place at all. As a whole, Ford feels like a stranger to his brother, and his brother is a stranger to him. His own twin, and someone else has played the role better than he did.

— They’ve definitely read the same fanfic before. Though, it tends to be more like Stan reading fanfic and Bill being annoying and leaning over his shoulder making unnecessary commentary. Stan has pushed him off the arm of the chair before and will dos so again.

— Initially, Bill knows a LOT about Stan’s past courtesy of being, you know, Bill. He wasn’t stuck in Ford’s body when Stan was travelling the US, and so his all-knowing capabilities were still the same and not weakened. Courtesy of the drunken nights though, he’s gotten to know Stan’s past from a different perspective, and Stan has in turn, gotten to know scraps about him. The longer he possesses Ford though, the more his mind begins to adapt to the human brain, and he can’t remember as much as he once did on a grander scale, but, he still knows a lot about Stan thanks to said drunken nights and the fact they do talk somewhat openly… on the rare occasion.

Also, Stan is the one to break the game of chicken and admit he gives a shit about Bill first. Not sure when or why yet, but It’ll come to me in a divine vision at 2am I’m sure.

— The rivalry is so hysterical to me. Two old men are this kid’s biggest haters. Thinking more on it, Gideon really does try his best to only piss off and encounter Stan. He has gradually become more and more terrified of Stanfraud who has shown he isn’t afraid to threaten taxidermying a child. Mabel is okay with this threat being used in her defence because she knows it isn’t genuine. Her Grunkle has gone on a ten minute rant before about why taxidermying a human is near impossible if you want to do it right, and it isn’t the law stopping him, it’s that.

The rivalry would probably end up very intense if it weren’t for Stan shooting down all of Bill’s ideas on how to deal with Gideon. No, Bill, they can’t dangle the child from a cliffside and make him answer five questions, then drop him if he gets one wrong. That’s too far, even for Stan.

Bill comments they could ‘always do to Gideon what they did to the Llama’, and Stan shoots him such a look that he goes completely quiet.

Basically Bill is being put on a metaphorical leash here courtesy of Stan and the kids, and if he had his way, he would drop kick the child.

— He participates if he’s out shopping with Stan, but by participate I mean he tries to make Stan drop the eggs on purpose. He’s a secondary obstacle for Stan to deal with.

— He loves pioneer day. He thinks it’s hilarious. He loves going around and telling people historically accurate facts — specifically the disturbing ones. He also gets a front row seat to Stan’s suffering!

There’s the whole conspiracy about the Northwests too, which he definitely knows about. He’s just saving it for the perfect moment when it will cause the most disruption.

… Then Pacifica insults Mabel, and all bets are off. He’s coming for the Northwest’s bloodline and reputation.

Hopefully I didn’t miss anything!

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

how about a driftloon!! they ‘could try to take children away’ but are just small little curious guys… i love them..

I too love drifloons and am happy to report that these little “Signposts for Wandering Spirits” (Platinum) would make fairly good pets. I think? Maybe? It’s complicated.

Size-wise, obviously, drifloons are perfect. Since these pokémon remain airborne at all times, they should be comfortable in any home. They do tend to prefer damp, humid environments (Diamond), but they don’t necessarily need these conditions to survive. If you live closer to the equator than not, then that’s bonus points for a happy and healthy drifloon.

Now, are these guys friendly? It’s really hard to say. Their reputation has been mixed up in folklore for years now, and cutting through to the truth can be difficult. What is objectively known is that these pokémon like to spend time around human children. It has often been reported that drifloons seek to “steal away” these kids, either physically or spiritually (Pearl), which would indicate some sort of malice behind their behavior. It’s even been said that any children who even grab onto them are liable to go missing (HeartGold/SoulSilver). More recent pokédex entries, however, seem to cast doubt on the validity to this folktale, emphasizing that these stories are merely whispered tales and postulating that these pokémon may merely be seeking to befriend and play with children (Ultra Moon, Sword). If you have children, you may want to keep an eye on them just in case, but there’s no definitive proof that this is something to be overly worried about. What we don’t have even a little information about, though, is how drifloons get around with adults. Since there’s not really any indication of antisocial behavior in the pokédex, I think it’s fair to assume that you would be able to get along with one well enough.

So why the B ranking? Drifloons, unfortunately, are pretty dangerous. While most of their moves would be inconvenient at best, two moves in particular — Self-Destruct and Explosion — are a bit of an issue. These explosive moves could easily be fatal, depending on how close you are to the drifloon when they use them. Thankfully, it seems unlikely that a drifloon would be quick to use these moves, even when upset, since it seems that they would cause them a lot of pain. According to the pokédex, “if for some reason its body bursts, its soul spills out with a screaming sound” (Moon). That sounds unpleasant at best. Nine times out of ten, as far as I can tell, you should be okay with these aloof, chill pokémon.

Before I close out, of course, I have to bring up the issue that comes up so often with ghost-type pokémon on this blog. According to the pokédex, drifloons are formed by the spirit is of both humans and pokémon (Diamond, Shield). Are these pokémon aware of this fact? Do they have memories of their past life? Is it okay to have a reincarnated human spirit as a pet? These are all big questions that I am not equipped to answer. When you adopt a ghost-type pokémon, you’re stepping into a mire of ethical mud, and you’re just gonna have to be okay with that.

Look, at the very least, if you’re an adult, there’s no way a single drifloon is strong enough to steal you away into the sky. Unless a bunch of them latch onto you like you’re the house from Up. In that case…good luck?

[runraerun]

darling, dearest, dead

written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge for November | prompt: guard | wc: 532 | rated: G | cw: major character death (but not really?) | tags: angst with a hopeful ending, Ghost!Steve Harrington, GhostHunter!Eddie Munson

There’s a legend that the first person who gets buried in a cemetery becomes the guardian of all the other souls buried there after. They become a reaper of sorts, ferrying the newly dead from this world to the next—a place they can never go.

This is what happens to Steve Harrington, aged just eighteen when he tragically dies in the Starcourt tragedy in ‘85.

Steve, who dies but doesn’t move on. Doesn’t go peacefully into that good night, or however the hell the saying goes. He can’t.

Steve, who attends his own burial, but despite how loud he screams into the faces of his loved ones, goes entirely unheard.

He eventually gets it, of course. Despite what everyone thinks (thought? Do they still think of him?) Steve isn’t stupid. He catches on quickly when the first few souls come wandering up to him, lost and alone. Steve can see the path they’re supposed to follow, even when they can’t. So, Steve takes the time to explain to them what he knows, tries to comfort them, before guiding them towards the afterlife.

It’s a curse, really. Eternal isolation. Decades pass but Steve remains. The few souls he speaks to are always so eager to leave him. In the end, Steve’s left alone.

And then one day, Eddie Munson comes stomping through his cemetery.

—🛡️—

“What’s with the get up?” A dark haired stranger asks, startling Steve, “there an anime convention going on or something?”

Steve’s eyes trail up and down the newcomer. He wants to make a comment about the strange attire he died in, but upsetting the newly departed usually isn’t a good idea.

“It’s my work uniform. I didn’t have time to change.” Steve explains, a well-rehearsed response. The Scoops uniform that he can never shed was always a point of interest for people. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”

This is the first time Steve’s missed a burial. Strange.

The guy snorts, “don’t apologize. I’m the one intruding. You visiting someone? I can wait to do my shit.”

Steve frowns, brows creasing where they come together. “No. I’m just… waiting.” He answers.

“For the ghost?” The stranger asks, his interest clearly piqued.

Steve blinks. “The ghost?”

“Yeah, y’know. The ghost that supposedly haunts this graveyard. Legend has it it’s some guy who died way back in the 80’s—there've been sightings for like, thirty years, but no one’s been able to actually record anything decent. All the pictures are super blurry. But I intend to change that. I’m Eddie, by the way. Ghost hunter and semi-professional psychic.” Eddie grins, giving a strange little bow in his introduction.

Wait…

“1985?” Steve asks.

“Yep,” Eddie pop’s the ‘p’, “The year Starcourt burned down and old Steven Harrington bit the dust. You know the story?”

Steve didn’t need to breathe—not anymore. And yet, he still felt short of breath. Lightheaded.

“It’s just Steve.” He clarifies.

“Yeah?” Eddie snorts, “how would you—”

A light seems to go off in Eddie’s head. He pales, eyes widening.

“You can really see me?” Steve can’t help but laugh, tears stinging his eyes.

“Yeah, I can see you, Steve.” Eddie mumbles, stunned, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

—

tagging: @sleepy-steve because they let me rant about reaper Steve to them<3 check out her reaper!eddie fic: here!💘

[peachhcs]

omg you should write something of an example where will has dropped everything for samy

i'd do anything for you

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will blurb)

when samy struggles with the semester piling up will takes his chances to fly out and surprise her

1.4k words

hiiii on my posting spree fr fr. here’s a little something i wrote up :)) keep sending in requests!!!

au masterlist

samy couldn't do it. she'd been staring at the 8 problem calculus homework for almost three hours now and none of it was clicking. it should've been easy considering she took it in high school, but something about college calculus was 100x harder than what she did a year ago. to make it worse, will was on facetime attempting to help her through the problems, but it wasn't any luck and the tears were growing thicker in her eyes. 

"i don't get it. i don't get it. i don't get it," the brunette buried her face into her arms, trying to keep the sobs from escaping. 

"you're getting so close, baby. i promise. we can take a break if you want?" will offered through the screen. 

she shook her head, "no, i can't. i need to finish this. it's due tomorrow morning and it's already 12:30." 

both of them grimaced hearing how late it was already. will had early conditioning tomorrow which meant he needed to be up in five and a half hours, yet here he was on the call trying to help the youngest hughes through her homework. 

"well, you're super close to figuring it out. you just need to derive the function," will continued softly. 

"that's what i'm doing but it just doesn't make sense. i can't do this," if anyone knew anything about samy it was that she needed to do everything perfectly or else it wasn't good in her eyes. doing homework ended in hell like this sometimes because samy just couldn't pretend like she did it and hope for the best when she turned it in. all of it needed to be correct. 

it also didn't help that there was a lot going on. homework, practice, and classes were staring to pile up as mid semester rolled around and the poor girl was definitely drowning in everything. plus, she really wished her boyfriend was there so he would just hold her and tell her it would be okay. 

"you can do this, i promise. if you could do it in high school, you can do it now," the blonde encouraged, but he saw the solemn look on his girlfriend's face and the tears. it broke his heart seeing her so upset about the homework. 

"i can't, will. i can't do this. i'm so tired from everything. class, practice, homework—i just need a break or something. wish you were here," samy rambled through her frustration. will frowned even more, hating that he wasn't a step away to be able to comfort her and wipe her tears away. 

"i know, i wish i was there too. always thinking of you, sweet girl," his little pet name brought a little blush to her cheeks as she wiped her own tears away. 

she wouldn't ever ask him to come, especially with his collegiate season fully underway. she just couldn't ask him to do that for her, even if she really wanted to. she also knew he 100% would and samy didn't want will missing anything and getting yelled at by his coach just for her. 

"i'm thinking of you, too. i'll figure it out. i should let you go. you have practice in the morning," samy finally realized the time, lifting her head back up and wiping her puffy eyes from the last of her tears. the sight hurt will's heart. 

"are you sure? i don't mind staying up," he said. 

"i'm sure. i promise. you need sleep. i need sleep," samy nodded firmly. 

"okay, well text me if you need anyting else. i love you," the blonde blew a kiss to the phone. samy did the same back before they hung up for the night. 

she decided to just give up. it wasn't worth it anymore and she needed sleep. will, on the other hand, felt horrible. he hated that he couldn't be there for her. the blonde glanced at the clock on his desk knowing that in five hours he needed to be up and it definitely wouldn't feel good, but he didn't care. 

he looked over at gabe's sleeping figure in his bed. that boy could sleep through anything which was convenient when will was on call for a bit longer with samy. he reopened his computer and clicked into expedia. 

would coach kill him? probably. would he sit bench for missing a weekend of practice? definitely. would he get a stern talking to? most likely. did will care? no. 

samy obviously needed him and if he was being honest, he needed her too. with that, will started searching for the earliest flight out to michigan in hopes that a weekend surprise would ease all of the tension. 

—

the brunette was at her desk again after class. she forfeited that homework and just hoped her professor would give her some grace for attempting the problems. what samy didn't know was hannah busy on her side of the room texting with will about his arrival. 

ethan and mark were tasked with picking the blonde up from the airport. they were excited that the younger boy was coming to visit knowing how stressed samy had been the past few days. luckily, gabe and ryan would do their best to cover for will but honestly, the blonde didn't care about the consequences from coach. if they wanted to bench him, they were gonna go ahead and bench him. 

hannah quickly jumped off her bed when there was a small knock on the door. samy didn't hear because of her headphones on, so she was oblivious to will poking his head in with ethan and mark behind him, phones recording. 

"she's studying," hannah whispered and opened the door wider. will smiled to himself, setting his bag down and carefully reaching out to tap his girlfriend's shoulder. 

she turned her head, expecting hannah, but when she caught sight of her boyfriend's large grin she jumped out of her chair. 

"holy shit," the girl exclaimed, jumping into his arms without a second though. the others cheered in excitement. 

"hi, baby," will continued grinning as he held her tightly.

"what are you doing here? what about practice?" the brunette had a million questions as she pulled back to really take in will's face and his presence.

"skipped them," the blonde said like it wasn't a big deal.

"what do you mean you skipped them? i thought you couldn't skip practice or else you'd get in trouble," she was in disbelief as she glanced over at hannah, ethan, and mark.

"i mean yeah, but you needed me and i felt horrible that i couldn't be there for you," his words softened her expression and she melted back into him. 

"you skipped a whole weekend of practice just for me?" the younger hughes wondered, heart feeling full because she's never had anyone say or do that for her before. 

"yup. wanted to see my girl," will beamed. 

neither of them cared about the others still in the room as they connected their lips into a sweet kiss. the three awed, happy to see the couple so happy, especially samy. 

"i love you," the brunette smiled as they pulled away.

"i love you too," will smiled back and that's when mark and ethan decided to be mark and ethan by pouncing on the blonde's shoulders.

"it's good to see you again, man. we've got good things planned for this weekend," mark smirked while samy rolled her eyes at their antics.

"i'm sure. it's good to see you guys too," the blonde laughed along. 

samy went to hannah who's lips were turned up into a smirk that she kept that secret for a good 12 hours. "surprised?" the girl wondered.

"very. thanks for getting him here," samy hugged her roommate.

"of course. anything to get you less stressed for a few days," they shared a laugh. 

she eyed her boyfriend again and he immediately met her gaze probably feeling her stare on him. the two smiled again as will reached out to wrap his arm around her torso. 

"we'll give you two some space, but then we're getting out tonight!" ethan exclaimed as him and mark trailed out of the dorm. 

"i'll go bother amelia two doors down," hannah winked making samy roll her eyes and will flush. 

when it was just the two of them samy returned her gaze to her boyfriend who was already looking at her. she pinched his cheek.

"thanks for coming. i'm really glad you're here." 

"anything for you. i hope this weekend can ease your stress," will pinched her cheeks back before placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

"now that you're here it definitely will," and with that, the couple climbed into samy's bed for some some much needed rest and cuddles that the two haven't had since summer ended.

[mejaemin]

his favorite kind of kiss- lee chan

wc: 0.4k (i swear i didnt make them all this length on purpose)

summary: dino and his love for taking care of you ♡

warnings: implied fem reader, fluff, reader is younger

an: sigh.. i feel like this one is kinda poop bc if it wasn’t obvious i had no idea what to do for him! regardless i hope u all enjoy!! (junhui ver soonyoung ver)

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

channie finally has someone who he himself gets to baby and it’s amazing! of course, age isn’t that important to him, but he’s forever happy that he got to date someone like you, who’s not only the cutest thing ever but also younger than him.

it’s no surprise that his number one love language, specifically with you, is acts of service. whenever you’re out eating with him and his friends, he’s always plating your food for you, or grilling meat for you. you don’t even have to ask him to do these things, he just loves it so much. he loves the feeling of being responsible for you, taking care of you. he’s rarely ever the one tasked with such a job.

being that he assigned himself the role of being responsible for you and your health, he’s always making sure you’re eating well. he’s always passing a random forkful of food to you in passing. you could be chilling on your shared couch minding your business when all of a sudden there’s a spoon full of food in your face. if chan ever makes a drink for himself he doesn’t waste a single second coming over to you to share a sip or two with you, making sure your mouth touches the same spot his did. unfortunately, when he’s keeping you so busy with making sure you’re fed, he can’t kiss you too often. it’s quite hard to kiss someone mid chew.. not that he’s tried or anything..

thus, through his many efforts of making sure you’re happy, healthy, and well-fed, he makes sure to give you as many indirect kisses as he can. of course, once he’s sure you’re full and satisfied with your daily meals, he gives you all the real kisses you missed out on throughout the day. the top of your head, your cheeks, your forehead, and most importantly, your lips. however, there’s something inside him that feels a little fuzzy whenever he thinks about how his lips don’t even have to touch yours for him to kiss you.

at dinner, he’s of course given you the first bite of his plate, but after you’ve both started eating comfortably he’ll give you another, right after taking his own bite. he smiles, seeing your lips wrap around the same thing his did. it’s really not anything special, even he and his friends share food like this, but when you do it, it feels more special. he’s allowing his lover to take from the same thing his mouth touched, and his cheeks heat at the thought.

dino really takes pride in how well he takes care of you, not only learning from his mom but the 12 brothers who took care of him as well. it’s one of his favorite things to do, but for sure comes second to giving you all those indirect kisses.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[oswildin]

Oneshot request:)

Can you maybe do one where the reader is struggling with anxiety during a mission or something, and Loki comforts them throughout? Just a little fluff:)

Hi! Thank you for the request! Hope this is okay! I drew from my own experiences with anxiety, so it may not be the same for everyone (well, obviously it isn’t but you know what I mean!). 💚

Small Victories (Loki x GN!Reader)

Summary: Loki helps you get through your anxiety during a mission. (Avenger!Loki, subtle fluff, friends to lovers vibe)

Today was an off today. It had started like any other, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t wake up exactly the same as the day before. You would get days like this, days where things just felt… too much. You couldn’t explain why, or exactly how, but they just did. Your mind felt like it was racing, your heart beating a little faster, sounds made you startle easier and that dread that seemed to linger in your bones only grew more pronounced as the day went on. You wanted to hide away, let it pass… But unfortunately, life as an Avenger had other plans.

Currently, you were moving down the halls of an old Hydra base, having got information that a new terrorist group had gotten access to it, intending to find information, or even better plans for weapons, that had been left behind. The base had only recently been discovered with this groups movements, who had been on Stark’s radar for the last few days. But today was really not the day for a mission…

With every step you took, you could feel that needling dread, that doubt that creeped into your mind - doubt of your abilities, the weight of your responsibilities…

Focus. You had to focus.

“Do you copy, Agent?” Loki’s voice suddenly came through your earpiece, and you realised you had completely missed something he had said. You take a quiet breath, lifting your hand to activate comms on your earpiece.

“Sorry, what did you say?” You asked, eyes scanning the area, keeping - or trying to - your wits about you. Truthfully, Loki had noticed you earlier in the day, and on the journey to the base. You had seemed distant, a little out of sorts. And annoyingly for him, he found himself… concerned of sorts. Unfortunately, you had managed to worm your way into the heart of the God of Mischief, much to his dismay and joy. It was quite the contradiction, but he was Loki after all, so that wasn’t so surprising.

“I said, I’m making my way to you.” Loki repeated the statement he had made a minute ago.

“Okay.” You murmured, hearing a noise behind you down the hall. Whipping around, you saw movement, and for a moment you thought maybe it was Loki, but you quickly realised it wasn’t. It was the enemy. You felt your heart stutter for a second before quickly reaching for your gun, firing a warning shot towards the figure as you sidestepped towards one of the old labs in the hall, hearing the enemy fire a shot in return. The sound made you startle, your nerves beginning to fray due to your anxiety. “Damn it-“ You hissed, mentally chiding yourself.

However, just as you reached the door, a wave of familiar green seidr flickered down the corridor, immediately knocking the the figure at the end back, making them drop their weapon and hit the wall behind them, falling unconscious to the ground. You barely had time to register the two hands that landed on your shoulders, turning you round.

Loki gazed at you, brows furrowed as he took in the slighter wider look to your eyes, the way your breaths were quicker and a little shallow. “Agent, look at me.” He calmly commanded, lowering his head slightly to catch your gaze. “Focus on my voice.” He continued. “I need you to take a few deep breaths, and take a moment.” He nodded faintly, a subtle, silent encouragement.

You finally met his gaze, your eyes searching his as he exuded the firm calm you craved. His hands on your shoulders remained, keeping you grounded as you tried to do as he said. You took deep, slower breaths, trying to get your heart beat to follow suit.

“Good.” Loki murmured, his eyes flickering around to ensure there was no more danger. “Keep going.” His eyes then turned to the door you had planned on going through, deciding it was best to get out of the open. Removing one of his hands from your shoulders, he reached for the door, swiftly opening it before ushering you inside with his other hand shifting from your shoulder to your back. “That’s it, take a second.” He continued, giving you something to focus on.

Once inside the abandoned lab, out of immediate sight of any potential threats, he once again stood before you. He could see the way your hands had moved to clench into fists, quickly unclenching before tightening into balls again, over and over - repetitive self-soothing motion. He hated the way it tugged at his heart, something he had been very adamant about being fortified. Yet, in this moment, it was very clear it wasn’t quite as protected as he had portrayed it to be.

Without a second thought, his cool hands caught yours, holding them gently as his thumbs brushed over your knuckles in a similarly soothing way. “It’ll pass.” He said quietly, ensuring he held your gaze. “Trust me.” He added, lowly.

The sensation of his hands holding yours were a balm, his words an anchor amidst the storm in your mind. You continued to steady your breaths the best you could, before hearing Tony’s voice come through comms.

“Reindeer games, report?” That made you lose focus for a moment, making your breaths hitch as you lost your rhythm. Loki felt a flare of irritation at Tony’s interruption, even if it was unfounded, as he reached to remove your earpiece.

“Stay focused.” Loki reminded you, keeping the earpiece in his palm as his hand returned to yours, this time holding your fingers between his thumb and index finger gently whilst his other remained holding your hand completely. “Forget the mission, your current mission is to get past this, alright?”

After a minute or so, with Loki’s gentle encouragements and soothing gestures, you began to feel the anxiety that had been gripping out begin to ebb. Your breaths evened out, your heart slowing to its usual rhythm. The thoughts that had been swirling in your head quietened, focusing solely on the moment, on Loki. Loki released his own quiet breath of relief, unable to stop the small swell of pride and satisfaction he felt at being able to help you through the moment.

Wordlessly, you gave a small nod, silently telling him it had passed - for now. Loki gave a gentle squeeze to your hand, loosening his grip before his hand slid up your arm to rest on your bicep. “There.” He breathed out softly. “It’s passed.”

You felt a flicker of embarrassment at allowing yourself to get so overwhelmed on a mission, your job was to be focused and precise, and yet this episode had prevented you from doing that. The one thing you were there to do… Loki could sense the frustration within you, seeing it clearly in the way your brows twitched.

“We all have our moments.” He sighed quietly, tilting his head faintly as he regarded you, his thumb subconsciously brushing the fabric of your mission gear on your arm. “They always strike in the most unideal moments.” A pause. “But you got past it, and you didn’t let it consume you.” His blue eyes flickered over your features. “Small victories.”

His words helped ease some of your worries, and there was gratitude in your own eyes as you gazed at him. It was a look that made a flicker of warmth appear in Loki’s chest, that earlier pride returning. For a God that had previously often sought to bring chaos, it was… nice… to be doing the opposite for a change. Especially with someone who he held in high regard - even if he wouldn’t admit that aloud. Not quite yet, anyway.

“Thank you.” You finally spoke, voice low. Loki didn’t say anything, simply squeezing your arm one last time before letting his hand fall back to his side. He then held out his hand that held your earpiece, offering it back to you.

“Or I could send it to my pocket dimension and we simply tell Stark that it was lost?” He mused playfully, raising a brow, hoping to draw a small smile to your lips - which he managed to do. You shook your head faintly, reaching to take it from his palm.

“And hear him complain about how much they cost even though he’s a billionaire?” You murmured wryly in return. “No, thank you.” Loki felt his own lips tug into a smirk at your humour, giving an elegant nod.

“Very well.” He accepted, watching you place the small device back into your ear. “Shall we venture back out into the unknown?” He stepped back slightly, gesturing towards the door with a dramatic flair. “I’m told I’m a rather good partner.”

You huffed wryly at that, raising a brow. “By who?” You teased, moving towards the door.

“Myself.” Loki replied playfully, pleased to see you were slowly beginning to return to your usual self. He understood that the anxiety would likely linger, but he silently vowed he would be there to ensure it couldn’t consume you.

He wouldn’t allow it.

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

Vi and her Counterpart’s Violence

Okay so as soon as I saw this scene in s2e3, I was immediately reminded of this scene in s1e6

Vi sees someone she loves, someone she perceives as innocent and in dire need of protection, being so comfortable with violence. She doesn’t have a problem with violence, if anything she uses it as a tool, but she has a problem with certain other people doing the same. Why should they be so violent when she has it handled? When she is meant to be the violent one, shielding them from getting to that level?

Caitlyn and Jinx are never beating the mirror allegations

In both scenes, Vi calls out her counterpart’s name multiple times. But, of course, instead of calling Jinx by her chosen name, she calls her Powder. And instead of calling Caitlyn by her given name, she calls her Cait. ‘Jinx’ represents Vi’s greatest failure, the opposite of who Powder is meant to be, while ‘Caitlyn’ seems represent privilege and power, the two major things enabling Caitlyn to act in such an opposite way to how she’s ‘meant’ to. ‘Caitlyn’ is who everyone else knows. They know Caitlyn Kiramman. Vi knows Cait. Vi knows her Cupcake. (Still a little confused on why we haven’t heard that at all this season?)

Violence is Vi’s. It’s hers because she refuses for it to be her counterpart’s. Of course, we’ve said this a million times: Vi is a protector first and foremost. A protector fails when their protectee is exposed to the weight on the protector’s shoulders. Vi was never meant to be innocent and she never seems to resent that, all she does is take it as a challenge that has no failing option.

In both seasons, Vi was pulled away from the situation and everything was interrupted. But, at least in s2, she got to talk to Caitlyn after. The problem is that there was such an obvious disconnect. It doesn’t matter if there was a kid, Caitlyn would have gotten the shot. It doesn’t matter if Caitlyn would have gotten the shot, there was a kid. (Although, I do think this whole kid thing is interesting after seeing how Vi feels about collateral damage when Jayce killed that Chembaron’s child. Maybe after seeing the council explosion, Caitlyn’s grief and that same Chembaron plan a terrorist attack, she’s changed her mind?)

Vi gets to view violence as a necessity. Vi gets to choose when violence is right or wrong, not who she’s supposed to be protecting. Vi gets to find comfort in violence, not who she’s supposed to be protecting.

Vi begging Caitlyn not to change isn’t just about everyone else in her life changing, it’s about forcing her own position to change as well when she finds so much comfort in it.

Anyway, I just think the parallels between these scenes are pretty cool and also getting to see Vi on the receiving end of violence from who she’s meant to be protecting is so interesting. I do wish the parallels were hammered home a little bit more because the scene in s1, you could really see it in Vi’s face and hear it in her voice how fearful she was of seeing Powder like that throughout the whole scene, while the fight scene felt a little short and the argument after left me wanting a bit more! Even tho I did appreciate the intensity of Caitlyn saying Jinx’s blood is in Vi’s veins and Vi saying Caitlyn is the one acting like her and all Caitlyn can respond with is violence, further proving Vi’s point and hurting her even more. I appreciate it all, but I hate to say that it feels like it’s missing something! I think what I wanted to hear from Vi was more than ‘It’s a kid!’ I wanted Vi to try to wake Caitlyn up, cry to her about her and Powder’s childhood’s, throw Caitlyn’s argument about ‘the cycle of violence’ back at her. But we didn’t get that.

[pixiecaps]

i cannot even describe to you guys how roier picking that song for qroier completely rewired my brain because it is so so painfully accurate to qroier in that moment

like lets break down the lyrics okay?

“i miss you more than ever and i don’t know what to do. i wake up and i remember you at sunrise. i wait another day to live without you. the mirror doesnt lie, i look so different. i’m missing you.”

already off the top wow. we immediately understand what qroier is feeling and i think the mirror line really hits because obviously he was looking like a fucking mess without cellbit so its all very accurate. also i cannot translate that last line “me haces falta tú” that really conveys the longing and sadness it signifies. its missing someone but in the way of saying like you’re missing them as a part of your life to live or as a piece of you like you’re missing them so you’re struggling to function.

“people come and go its always the same. the rhythm of life seems wrong. it was so different when you were here. yes, it was so different when you were here.”

people come and go reminds me of qroier talking about the eggs and the other islanders. people come and go But you were different. without cellbit everything is just wrong for qroier.

“there is nothing more difficult then living without you. im suffering in the wait of watching you return. the chills of my body ask for you. and i dont know where you are. if you hadn’t left me, i’d be so happy.”

i mean perhaps the most devastating part which isnt surprising as its the chorus which he repeats. i cannot put into words how life changing of a pick this song was for a cubito? for qroier? for mcrp of a queer relationship? THERE IS NOTHING MORE DIFFICULT THEN LIVING WITHOUT YOU? immediately we understand again what qroier is feeling hes very bluntly telling us. thats what makes doied saying he was fine without cellbit even more gut wrenching because cellbit never understood how fucking broken and unfunctional roier was without him. he struggled to fucking live. IM SUFFERING IN THE WAIT OF WATCHING YOU RETURN? every day cellbit was gone for roier it felt like hell. which is devastating cause as we know cellbit was under the perception that roier could finally be happy without him meanwhile roier is barely making it through the day having to take care of a new kid with reminders everywhere of his husband that left him behind. he is anything but happy. THE CHILLS OF MY BODY ASK FOR YOU? screaming. he misses his touch he yearns for his body warmth. do you think when he laid in their bed at the castle it felt as cold as ice? do you think he clung to cellbits side of the bed hoping to feel even just a fraction of the warmth and comfort he felt sleeping by cellbits side months prior? much to think about. AND I DONT KNOW WHERE YOU ARE? he’s again searching for him so desperately we saw the attempts qroier was trying his fucking best cause he made a promise to his husband and it was interrupted sadly. but i think the line of just saying i dont know where you are makes the song and the moment even sadder. all this talk of suffering without a person and you dont even know where they are right now. very accurate for qroier! IF YOU HADNT LEFT ME I’D BE SO HAPPY? no words just no words. you can suffer in agony with me in this one. think about it for a second and cry. no words.

does anyone ever think of spiderbit and how in love qroier was