#sometimes i make posts like that without like. sincerely needing/wanting reminders (not that i am Bothered by them. just like writing it

[juniepops]

don't forget to shower!

so funny to see this but also sincerely sweet of you . thank you anon

[eisforeidolon]

Hi! Sorry if i'm bothering you but i needed someone to talk. About what happened recently with Destiel and Misha and the fans that believed in the things he said. I am new to Supernatural fandom, but i loved the story in an instant, thanks to Sam and Dean and their unique relationship. Then i became interested in Jared and Jensen too and i think that if Sam and and Dean are the heart of Supernatural then Jared and Jensen are the soul of the show because to me no other actor could have played Sam and Dean like they did. Now, returning to what i wanted to say i am really TIRED about Destiel, some Destiel shippers and especially Misha. I know he said some stupid thing about how CW is homophobic and how Destiel would be canon if they weren't homophobic. I don't ship Destiel because sincerely i don't see romantic love between Dean and Castiel, but this doesn't make me an homophobic person. His words are said with malicious intent. He also said some thing about how Jensen is attracted to him. I find this disgusting because he says this things only for his Destiel fan, knowing that his words are lies. Also Jensen not being there can't reply to his lies. Like i sad i'm new to Supernatural but some Destiel are making the experience in the fandom a constant war. They say that if you don't ship Destiel you are homophobic , that if you don't ship Destiel you are not a true Supernatural fan and the most stupid one... They say that Supernatural is about Dean and Castiel and their love. This make me really angry because Supernatural is about Sam And Dean, how they care for each other,how they save the world again and again and how they hunt monster and ghost and other things. But to me Supernatural is the unique love story of two brother and how they did everything to protect each other. I ship Wincest, but When i say love story i mean that Sam and Dean are Platonic Soulmates in Supernatural and even the show always remind us of that. I don't understant how Misha can say this thing without facing consequences because his words feed some Destiel fan that became hateful like him and whose mission is hating people who don't think think like them. Sorry for the long post and for the horrible english but it's not my first language. Sorry if i bothered you but i needed someone to talk to because sometimes i feel like leaving the fandom because Destiel hate and their war against everyone. I hope you will always have love and kindness in your life.

You really don't need to apologize for anything.❤️ You aren't bothering me and your English is fine - maybe not perfect, but hell, neither is mine some days! Thank you for the lovely sentiment, and I wish you the same - and that you do what is best for you in regards to this sometimes dumpster fire of a fandom.

If it helps, you're absolutely not alone. I've been in this fandom for years now, and some days it's sheer stubbornness against hellers obvious attempts to browbeat and drive everyone else out that keeps me here. They didn't get to take over the show through being loud and obnoxious and they don't get to monopolize the fandom by doing the same - and they can be butthurt forever over it.

I actually didn't mind Dean and Castiel as a ship at first. I'm always interested in what people take from a canon and then create entirely outside of it, and I read quite a lot of fanfic. Even then I was baffled by shippers insisting it was a thing in the canon, though. There was a brief period where I wondered if I'd somehow missed it, because I'm not generally really looking for romance stories and there were so many posts that were so insistent? So I actually did a rewatch focused just on Dean and Castiel's interactions - and came away with the impression they weren't actually even as good of friends as I'd originally thought, let alone anything like interested in each other romantically. The more I thought about it and the more meta I ran across and actually considered the details of? The more obviously baseless it was. I mean, some of it really is just genuinely so stupid it's hilarious. Cake. Bacon. Negative space. Widower arc. Bisexual lighting and/or plaid. But even the theorizing which wasn't absurd on its face? Always looked silly in comparison to how much more obviously and easily it had meaning in relation to the main story that plainly actually existed instead.

Meanwhile, I kept seeing more and more of those posts you mention insisting anyone who didn't ship it was a homophobe and they really pissed me off. Even if Dean and Castiel were a canon couple who spent half of each episode doing couple things and saying I love you back and forth instead of the entire show revolving around Sam and Dean's crazy tangled up lives with Castiel occasionally wandering in and out of the background with some angel nonsense or whatever? Not shipping it would not make someone a homophobe. Shipping is very subjective and any individual pairing can not appeal to any particular fan for a million and one reasons that have sweet fuckall to do with how they generally feel about LGBT+ relationships. Attempting to bully people into supporting a single very specific fictional relationship by trying to make them afraid of being branded a bigot if they don't is ridiculous as hell, regardless of how canon or not it is. How absolutely fucking disrespectful to all the people who have to deal with actual homophobia versus just being butthurt they can't force two particular fictional characters to kiss. It's so goddamn juvenile I can't even.

The longer I was in fandom, the more brain dead and divorced from the show the meta claiming Dean and Castiel were going to hook up any minute got. The more annoyed I became at all the absurd stereotypes about masculinity and sexuality they would parrot as gospel truth if it could "prove" Dean was into dudes and eventually the angel. The more obviously transparent their every cry of ~*homophobia*~ was when they tried to turn every real life LGBT+ issue and every canon LGBT+ character primarily into proof and/or justification regarding D/C. They're a bunch of entitled shitheads who not only feel like they should get to dictate what SPN is despite hating basically everything it actually was, but who are perfectly fine with co-opting serious real world issues to try and do it. I have no beef with normal D/C shippers who aren't assholes to everyone and mad at the show for not bringing their fanfic to life, but I can't stand the pairing at all even in a fandom sense anymore.

The evolution of my feelings on Misha followed a similar path. I liked Castiel well enough as a supporting character and I didn't actively dislike Misha, though after I'd seen a couple of panels where his answers were flippantly irreverent or unnecessarily raunchy, I wasn't really much interested in him. Then, over time, at the same time Castiel's character was more and more blatantly just eating up screen time to give J2 time off, he started getting worse and worse about ship-baiting. He'd act like everyone behind the scenes was talking about D/C - but then they (Jensen and Bob Singer most notably) would say that was untrue. He'd slyly hint about upcoming scenes in a vague way to imply D/C and then it would be something else entirely. He'd tell shippers about things that had been pointedly removed because they could seem leading and that was not the authorial intent, but without pointing out that was exactly why they were excised. His stories would change when he got a bad reaction - he went from saying he shipped wincest to pretending he'd never heard of it, he went from claiming Jimmy was going to appear in the original Roadhouse finale to it being Castiel, etc. Then there was framing horsing around with Jared as if he was a victim and not a participant and the incredibly inappropriate objectifying sexual comments about Jensen and Dean. All of which caused the fans falling for it to loudly and angrily attack everyone but him while they kept buying his ops/books/cameos/whatever. No matter how blatantly he queerbaits them and how upset they get over it and take it out on everyone else, he does not stop. He's an ungrateful creepy narcissist who will throw literally anyone or anything under the bus if he can get a buck out of it. Who also will proclaim he doesn't want to co-opt LGBT+ causes when he's desperately trying to keep his career on life support doing exactly that in the most skeevy, backstabby way possible.

Jared and Jensen put their hearts and years of their lives into this show bringing Sam and Dean to life, episode after episode, week after week, season after season. Telling an important story about platonic and familial love that you really won't find anywhere else.

Misha and the hellers have spent years trying to co-opt that to their own ends out of gross entitlement. They deserve each other, but the show and its actual fans don't deserve to have to put up with either of them. Unfortunately, we have the fandom we have, not the one we deserve.

[yandere-sins]

Poll Feedback Replies!

Results beneath the cut! Thanks to everyone responding, you are all so kind to leave such nice replies and I am glad you are enjoying the polls as much as I do!! ♥ I am very grateful to everyone reaching out and working on this together with me, thank you everyone and of course—if you have any more thoughts you are welcome to share them!

(I put similar suggestions together! And there might be a poll if you read through it all ;) I know you guys love them :P)

Thank you so much!! I am glad you are enjoying my writing and the weekly polls ♥

The more interactions with the yandere is a very good suggestion and I put it on my little reminder note to include more interactions in future polls! :D

Thank you for your response! More and faster replies are noted!

Although a good critic point, I do have to defend myself a little on it. I know I've not been the most active with replies, sometimes taking a week or two to catch up to them, but I do reply to every. single. comment. that I get. The problem as to why it takes so long is honestly just mental/physical exhaustion (as you know there's been a lot going on in my life and having a fulltime customer service job is taxing as well), so I usually wait until the polls are over and then go through all replies. I sincerely try and hope to be able to get back to at least replying to new comments every day, but I hope you guys can understand that interactions can be tricky and I'd hate not to have the mental capacities to really think about what people reasoned and just reply the same words over and over instead ^^'

Edit; you are still right and I'll catch up to them. I have been neglectful on them for a while.

However, as a sidenote, I don't go into stuff explicitely when I reblog the polls because think about it this way: You only see the poll when I reblog it and not when I post it for the first time. So you read the blurb, think of what you would do, and suddenly see my reply. Now you might change your thoughts and go for something else just because I made a good/bad point with my reply. I do sometimes give hints as to where the poll is at currently, but if I take a side that could inevitably influence people to not choose what they want ^^' So the half-time and last day announcements are staying vague on purpose to give everyone a chance to make a decision without being actively influenced unless they decide to check the comments.

I am very glad you guys are enjoying them so much!! Thank you for reaching out and giving me feedback!

What I will do for more clarity: I already put a note at the beginning of the blurb if the polls are multiple parts, but I think will do it like "Part 1 of 2 (or like 1/2 and 2/2)" so it will be obvious if it's finished or not. That is IF they are consecutive, week after week. However, if it's planned as a standalone, I might just continue to not mention any parts so you guys know it's just this one for now, and if I ever pick it up again, I'll just leave a note saying "Continuation of this post" before the blurb and link to the previous one. I hope that helps and lifts some of the confusion!

As for the writing a "conclusion" I am somewhat split... I always wanted to give the chance for everyone to use their own imagination and problem solving skills to think of the solution they lean towards. It's like a creative exercise that invokes moral values and mindful thoughts. And of course it's fun to see how and why others agree/disagree.

It would really take the magic away of the polls being genuinly without judgement (there being no right or wrong answer) but I do understand the curiosity about what happens next from a storyteller point of view. I do have a bit more background information that could be shared but is purposefully not mentioned because neither you, the protagonist nor you, the reader have that information available and need to make a decision based on the information you have (e.g. as the writer I knew what is in the last package the yandere wanted to send you). I need to know that information to make the story more convincing, you don't need it so you can make a real, genuine decision with the same amount of information that your yandere gives you.

There might be some disillusion if I take away the freedom from you guys to think about what comes next, and you might end up hating the conclusions that I came up with, especially if it interfers with your imagination and I'd hate to disappoint you all :( -> And just to add on, there are a lot of small things that could entirely change a decision for better or for worse. Like for the hiding poll, if the reader was small or tall that could influence the situation's outcome as you guys have proven with your replies! Thus not every outcome that I portrait might actually be an accurate or realistic one, rather one I thought of?

I could offer doing like a "monthly" review (or like every 4 to 5 polls or so) where I go through my ideas of what each choice does, but even though I have a writing blog I just don't think people would much care for me yapping, trying to go through every possibility I can think of... ^^' (I don't have that kind of confidence lol) But! I am not against it. I'll let you guys decide if this is really is something you want despite the danger of disillusion I spoke about before. To me, a lot more speaks against writing conclusions to the polls so I haven't done it until yet, but if there's a genuine interest in it, I will try my best to include it between requests!

@watch-out-for-them

Thank you for your reply! I am glad you are having a lot of fun with the polls! :D I'm afraid the not showing up is out of my hand, but if it helps: I post the polls on Sunday, the first reminder on Wednesday, and the last one on Saturday. I don't like promoting myself too much but there's still the possibility of turning on notifications if that is an option for you!! Still thank you for interacting and leaving feedback ♥

[ @lorkai / @furudolove / @kiwi-donut ]

Thank you for all the insights, praise, and love for the polls, I'm so glad you are here to enjoy them and participate!! I am especially glad to see a lot of you coming back for every poll and it's always fun to interact and read your thoughts!! ♥ I'm glad I get to have a chance to inspire you and reflect on your decisions, that is truly and honor that I am grateful to have!! ♥

[guard-en]

GONNA KEEP THIS SIMPLIFIED TO DO'S AND DON'T'S, SO LISTEN CLOSE CAUSE I AIN'T REPEATING MYSELF, ALRIGHT? ALRIGHT.

DO: [or do not be afraid to]

Pop in at any time and drop an ask! Politeness and kindness is obviously appreciated but there's no need to fuss about tone.

Request anything to be drawn, especially if it is in line with my interests. No guarantee I'll do it, or a guarantee it'll be anything high quality, but shoot your shot!

Tag me in anything that reminds me of you or you think I'll enjoy!

Message me here or frankly anywhere to talk or chit chat or ask for advice! I am a busy woman, but I typically get to people within a couple of hours, and I enjoy helping!

Ask to be friends or do fun things with me! Anyone, but especially mutuals, can invite me any time any hour of the day to aggie or whiteboard or whatever! If you think I'd enjoy it, you're probably right!

Leave silly/appreciative/unhinged tags on my posts! The crazier the better honestly, though obviously regarding. Basic human decency. E.g. 'I'm gonna swallow your art whole like a python ✅' 'i need to [expunged] his [redacted] in front of everyone he loves ❌'

Spam/"stalk" my page, it just makes me giggle when I know someone is thumbing through my blog like a magazine.

Inform me if you think I am unaware of deleterious activities of those I am supporting. I attempt to be as aware as possible of strange and bad people and activities but I'm no omniscient god.

DON'T: [blocking criteria highlighted]

Flirt with me through any means even in a joking manner, but especially with any hint of sincerity. I'm in a committed and closed relationship and beyond that am uncomfortable with it. If I wanted to get with someone I'd be on Hinge, not Tumblr.

Leave unrequested criticism, especially if I do not know you, in any place I could see. This is just baseline irritating.

Attempt to compare me to other artists in a way that demeans others.

Share explicit content to me without my informed consent, be it fictitious or real.

Be a douchebag for 'the bit'. All my cool homies are kind and true to ourselves. Don't be a fucking asshole.

I block often and innumerously, and not always out of malice. Sometimes I will just be seeing content repeatedly that doesn't appeal to me, so I take the high road. Do not think you are exceptional. Be a good noodle and be on your way.

[wabatle]

HOOOOOY! :D I'm so glad when I see people doing BLLK matchups lol. So I'd love to request one please. I will follow the steps in your post. ❀~ fandom: blue lock.

❀~ gender: he/him.

❀~ preference: male character.

❀~ personality: funny; laid back; curious; can appear mean but I just love to tease people and joking around; love to explore and eating; analytical; good general knowledge; independent; ambitious; need to understand things; don't like when things don't go the way I'd like; not very communicative outside and people may think I don't feel anything but that's not true; people told me I can have a lack of empathy; blunt and sometimes bossy; I don't like clingy people and those who speak endlessly; I love to dig an interesting subject in depht even if I miss some sleep hours; individualistic, creative.

❀~ hobbies: writing; traveling; going out with friends and eating out with them; cooking (meat-based courses and desserts like tiramisu or brownies); gardening for meditation; playing with my cat.

❀~ things that make you feel negative: the rain; public transport cancelled when I have something planned that depend on them; slow drivers; when I fail at something, being bored; people that don't consider my efforts or qualities; those who complain but don't help themselves or ignore the advices I give to them.

❀~ things that make you feel positive: the sun; spring and summer; laughing; long car journeys; the beach, the forest and the mountain; eating new things; meet new, funny or interesting people; doing thrilling projects and have an impact on things and people; when people need me or want me to be with them for an activity.

❀~ love languages: act of service (giving); physical contact (receiving). I usually am the one who people do things for but it's the reverse if I sincerely love the person. For physical contact it's pretty the same, I can touch others without a warning but hate being touched. However, I let people I feel comfortable with touch me.

❀~ anyone you don't want to be matched up with: characters who didn't reach the Neo Egoist League.

❀~ let me know if you would rather me post your ask with my answer or just tag you: you can post with my info. Thank you very much and congrats! I don't know you yet but I love to discover new blogs.

𓆩⚝𓆪 — @tigreblvnc's Blue Lock matchup~!

𓆩⚝𓆪 — A/N: Thank you so much!! Ngl I was a little stumped... But I think I got a good result! <3

𓆩⚝𓆪 — I think your Blue Lock soulmate is...

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Michael Kaiser!

Here me out, it's sort of just a gut feeling, it kinda just... came to me?

He would like to help you research things but if he notices it's getting really late he'll just be like "shut the fuck up and go to bed."

I feel like you're the "um akthually 🤓☝️" of couples 💀. Combined you two are so smart. You both have so much knowledge stored.

You have a shared need to understand things, so you'll look into things together.

Such a cheesy trope but he's the type of guy to offer you his umbrella because he knows you don't like the rain. Depending on the day he'll tease you about it.

I think you would go to the beach together, and for some reason it reminds me of Gojo and Riko at the beach. Idk why he just gives those vibes I guess.

You would have cats and dogs. I think he'd tell you he doesn't want a cat but then once you get one he gets attached.

He loves to eat your cooking. It's probably just the fact that you made it, bit either way, he'll eat it.

Kaiser would also like to travel with you. He likes to see you enjoying yourself.

He understands why you could feel unhappy when you fail at something. Though he might not be the best at comforting, he'll at least try to assure you that you're more than your failures.

I hope you liked it! I'm worried Kaiser is ooc (oops), and I won't lie, I was a little stumped at first. I'm sorry it took so long and I hope you enjoyed it!

[bisexualshakespeare]

BTS: I’ll write a DVD commentary about my personal favorite passage from Harvest Festival series :D

Question from this post

I think I'll do the part in Eckleberry Pie where Graydon goes to find Boorman to apologize

Boorman wasn’t far. Graydon found him downstairs in the dining hall, eating a piece of pie and sweet talking one of the maids cleaning up.

“Effie,” He said when Graydon sat next to him. “This is my friend. The pouty one that I left to check up on, causing me to nearly miss your fantastic eckleberry pie. Obviously shouldn’t have done that.”

originally this was blackberry pie because I love blackberries and didn't want Boorman to be drinking. Sometimes around when I was finishing I remembered Elora's task to grow an Eckleberry bush and thought that would be a fun call back. Also a bit of a callback to sad-angry-frown-prince

Effie smiled at Graydon, glanced at Boorman, and shook her head fondly.

I remember I agonized over Effie so hard. I was like 'what does she sound like? does she like boorman? is she bothered by him? what are they gonna talk about?' before I was like ok this is just an excuse to get them to fuck. she doesn't need to have extensive character motivations, she can just walk away 😆

Graydon cleared his throat as she retreated. “So. Thank you, first of all, for checking on me. That was nice of you to think of me.”

“You’re welcome.” Boorman said with his mouth full. Boorman talked a lot with his mouth full. Graydon was pretty used to it by now.

Sometimes when I'm trying to keep my mindset in canon, I will just reference things in canon to remind me I'm okay? This is me being like 'yeah you're writing boorman right. remember when he talked while eating the probably-not-men-who-were-turned-into-pigs at nockmaar? you're doing great' lol

“I admit I was a little harsh before. I was upset and kind of mad at myself and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I hope I didn’t offend you or make you feel like you weren’t wanted.”

Boorman straightened a little. “I wasn’t offended.”

Graydon slowly put a hand on Boorman’s arm. “Because you are wanted.”

a couple people in the comments have said this is surprisingly smooth for Graydon? I honestly was just trying to be like 'boorman is not a substitute for elora! graydon's not using him! i want to be clear here!' this is me waving my hands around

Boorman looked at him with surprise, and with berries in his beard. Graydon couldn’t believe he was going to have his first time with this huge goober. Then again, that huge goober was kind of his best friend.

Boorman is great but he is without a doubt the grossest of the group. He drank spoiled wine at nockmaar, ate the worms at the shattered sea fishery. I have no doubt that if he was in his feels about being rejected he would eat half a pie no problem. I don't know how much I was thinking about it as I was writing it, but in hindsight I think I wrote Boorman as having a crush on Graydon prior to the fic. Even if he didn't, I think he's a dramatic enough person to use any excuse to cry into dessert.

Boorman patted his face with a napkin in an attempt at nonchalance. “So what changed your mind?”

Remember when this said non nonchalance and we were both confused? lol

Graydon winced. “You know that consummating you mentioned? I kinda ran into it in the showers.”

Boorman gasped. “In public? Elora Danan’s not as vanilla as I thought.”

Graydon's mind briefly went to the marks he briefly saw beneath the robe.

I am just now noticing I put briefly twice in the same sentence. damn i was distracted thinking about elora in only a robe lol

He shook his head. “But also, you know, I’ve never done anything before. If you were interested, it would be nice to have someone-”

“So handsome and experienced in the art of love making?”

“I was gonna say, someone I really care about.” He smiled a little.

Graydon's just so sincere and sweet and truthful! and also can you tell I really REALLY wanted it to be clear he liked Boorman and this wasn't just a rebound?? That's literally all this scene was written for! if I didn't care about that, Boorman would've just been in the room when Graydon came back and they would've immediately started fucking. Which now that I mention it is basically what happened in Lightning Strike 😂

Boorman brushed a lock of hair from his face. “Well I’ll have to think about it while I finish my pie.”

“Of course.”

Boorman picked up the plate and poured the rest of the pie into his mouth.

“Alright, let’s go.” Boorman grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the hall as Graydon shrieked with laughter.

This is the funniest image to me! It feels so right for Boorman to be like 'well i'll save face' and then immediately not. I don't know if "shrieked" is the right word for how the actor would actually laugh in response to this but it is how *I* laughed so it went in! 😂

Thanks for asking! 😘

[steddieworks]

finally safe for me to fall - chapter 5

hi!! I am so so sorry for the late update, but with some personal issues going on I haven't had time to post this weekend. Hopefully the chapter is good enough to make up for that!!

read on ao3

Summary: Eddie learns some more things about being a parent. He and Steve get closer.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing, very minor cooking accident (not very descriptive and no blood)

Words: 7.3k

Somehow, miraculously, Eddie makes it through his first week of being the Harrington nanny.

It’s not without some minor hiccups and one minor meltdown, but if he’s doing the addition and subtraction correctly, he’s still pretty sure they’re on the positive side of the equation. The girls seem to really like him, Steve seems to really like him, though not in the way Eddie is quickly realizing he craves. But Steve is kind, patient, and helpful, and Eddie is so, so grateful that he was able to find a job where he can do what he’s always wanted to do, with a built-in support system he never thought he’d have.

On his first Friday with them, Steve comes home from work early.

Well, early for Steve. The first few days, Eddie had noticed that Steve does push that whole “home-by-five” schtick, sometimes staying till half-past, arriving home at six, and one night he didn’t trudge through the door until seven. Eddie still doesn’t quite understand what it is Steve does, but whatever it is really takes all the energy out of him.

But Fridays seem to be meaningful in the Harrington house.

Steve makes it in around half-past four, while the girls are finishing up their homework at the bar after having some sliced bananas and blueberries as a snack. The click of the door closing makes both of them perk up, their heads snapping up to face the sound. Eddie rolls his eyes, but smiles, nodding to the door.

“Daddy!” The twins call excitedly as they scramble down from the bar stools, running to meet their father at the door. This was somewhat of a routine for them by now. Eddie had noticed even on Monday that the twins craved time with their father, so much so that they couldn’t even imagine giving the man a moment to breathe before they were flocking to him.

“Hi, my sweet girls,” Steve says, his voice warm with his usual greeting. Eddie grins down at the peppers he’s chopping. The domesticity, the family of it all, filled him with a joy unlike anything else he’d ever experienced.

The twins immediately begin entertaining Steve with stories about their day, and Eddie looks up at him with a smile when he manages to make it to the kitchen, each of them practically hanging off of him. He sets his lunchbox on the counter, hangs his messenger bag on the hook by the fridge, then comes around the counter to greet Eddie.

This is what Eddie, with his sad little heart, and his pathetic desires, looks forward to every day.

Steve, coming around the counter, placing a gentle hand on Eddie’s lower back, and murmuring a warm hello before asking about his day.

He does this now, reminding the girls to put away their schoolwork if they’re finished (they’re not) before his warm, large hand settles in the spot just a couple inches above Eddie’s ass, smiling at him sweetly. “Hey, hon,” he says, as if the word doesn’t set Eddie on fire, make him want things he can’t ask for. “Did you have a good day?”

Eddie nods, just as he does every day, pretending that he’s very focused on his vegetable chopping. “It was good. I went grocery shopping while the girls were at school. I bought you more graham crackers.”

Steve grins, like this is the best news he’s heard all day, and Eddie melts. “Thank you,” he says, sincerely. “What’re you making for dinner? Do you need any help?”

As usual, Eddie wants to scoff at the offer, but he forces himself to smile instead. “Roasted pork and grilled veggies,” he says, gesturing to the peppers. “And I’ll make some macaroni and cheese for the girls.”

“I can chop?” Steve offers, noting, as always, the lack of acknowledgement his previous offer of help received.

Eddie shakes his head. “No, I’ve got it. You’ve been at work. Go change clothes, lie down, whatever you need to do.”

Steve sighs, just like he always does. “I had a shorter day today, I can help,” he insists.

“Eddie, can you help me with this problem?” Ivy asks from across the bar, frowning down at her math homework.

Eddie grins at Steve, gesturing at his daughter with the knife in his hand. “Help them finish up? And then I’ll see if I can put you to work.”

Steve grins, but there’s a dusting of pink across his cheekbones. “Alright,” he says, easy, as if he doesn’t mind Eddie’s little bossy tone in the slightest.

The twins alternate between asking Steve for help and telling him about their day at school, occasionally stopping to say, “oh, Eddie, I forgot to tell you-” which sort of warms Eddie’s whole heart.

Eddie tries not to be too nosy, but he can’t help but glance up at them frequently, smiling down at the food he’s preparing as he sees how sweet Steve is with them. “Alright, girls. Go put your backpacks in your room and clean up in there, okay? I saw how it looked last night, and we’re not going anywhere fun tomorrow if you don’t have that room clean, got it?” Steve says, wagging a finger at them.

They giggle a bit, but agree, clamoring off their bar stools and making their way to their bedroom to do what they’re told.

Steve sighs, turns to look at Eddie, smiles. “Right. What can I do to help?” He asks, clapping his hands together expectantly.

Eddie grins. “I’ve got almost everything done, actually,” he says, taking the pot of boiling macaroni noodles off the stove, moving to the sink to drain them. “The vegetables are in the oven, but- oh! Fu-dammit!” He can’t help the swear, the outburst. Because somehow, his fucking feet trip over the nothingness beneath them, and sends him stumbling against the counter, boiling water splashing all down the front of him.

“Shit,” Steve says, his voice an octave or two higher and louder than it normally is. He swoops in with far more grace and speed than Eddie probably would, if the situations were reversed. He grabs the pot, setting it off to the side, and grabs the bottom of Eddie’s shirt, pulling it away from his stomach. There’s panic in his voice, and in his eyes, as he asks, “Eddie, are you okay?”

“I- I think so?” Eddie says, shaky. He gingerly takes the material out of Steve’s hand, tugging it up to look at the damage. His stomach is red, and probably blistered. Great.

“I’ll go get you a clean shirt,” Steve offers immediately, moving away to do just that.

Eddie flushes, this time from sheer embarrassment and not the heat of the boiling water. “Actually, uh-” he starts, Steve pausing in his tracks to look at him expectantly. “I don’t, um… I don’t have any other clean shirts.” He feels stupid when he says it.

“What?” Steve asks, furrowing his brows.

“I- I was going to do laundry tomorrow! But… I only have like four or five shirts, and I’ve worn those this week, so… it’s fine, really. It’ll dry.” He shrugs, like the idea of hanging out in this sopping wet shirt for the rest of the evening doesn’t bother him in the slightest. Going to bed won’t be a problem, as he sleeps shirtless most of the time anyway, but he knows it’ll be annoying to sit around in this shirt until then.

“Oh,” Steve says. He looks bothered, but in a pitying kind of way. Eddie looks away. “Alright, then let me go grab one of mine,” he says it so simply, like that’s a normal thing to offer.

Eddie’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull. “Uh, no, that’s okay,” he tries, trailing after Steve, like a little lost puppy.

“Nonsense,” Steve says, waving his hand. “You can’t just sit around wearing that all evening.”

Eddie wants to argue, really he does. If not for the embarrassment, then at least to maintain some semblance of professionalism, but he can’t even seem to manage that. “Okay,” he says finally, standing in the middle of Steve’s room awkwardly as the other man searches his dresser for a shirt.

“Here,” Steve says, walking over and holding out a dark green piece of fabric. Eddie eyes it suspiciously. Steve laughs. “I know it’s not your typical color scheme, but I promise it’s not gonna bite you.”

Eddie takes it, albeit distrustfully, unfolding it to see that it’s a sweatshirt for East Hawkins Community College. He snorts. “I didn’t know you were from Hawkins,” he says, lightly. He’s trying to remember, suddenly, if he knew Steve back then. He was certain he couldn’t forget a face like that.

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not. Er, well… I went to elementary school there, but then when my parents… anyway. I was in a boarding school a couple hours away from Hawkins, but I went back for college.” He looks uncomfortable now.

“Oh,” Eddie says. He’s curious now, since this is probably the most information Steve has volunteered about his background since he started working for him, but he can tell it’s not something he is keen on sharing. Eddie gestures to the bathroom, awkwardly. “I’ll go, uh-”

He steps into the bathroom, and has just pulled the ruined shirt over his head when he hears Steve’s voice behind him, far too close to still be in the other room. Eddie can’t help the way he jumps and instinctively uses the fresh shirt in an attempt to hide his body.

Steve gives him a soft look. “Let me see the burn?” he says, voice gentle. “I just want to make sure you don’t need to go to the hospital or anything.”

Eddie tries to laugh that off, but his voice shakes as Steve steps closer, gently brushing Eddie’s fabric shield away. “It’s really not that bad,” he says, faintly.

“Well,” Steve says, ducking his head and brushing his fingers lightly over the burn. Eddie can’t help the small hiss that escapes his mouth at the faint touch. Steve glances up at his eyes and tsks. “Not that bad, huh?” he says, voice sort of disbelieving, but free of the condescension that would usually follow a statement like that.

Eddie gives him a pained little smile. “Okay, it hurts a bit,” he admits.

Steve nods, then steps towards the sink, reaching for the medicine cabinet that sits above it. “I bet. It doesn’t look great, hon. Is it okay if I put some antibacterial ointment on it?” His voice is so gentle, and caring, and fuck, Eddie couldn’t tell him no even if he wanted to.

“Sure,” he says. He goes to stand closer to Steve, leaning back against the counter, the t-shirt held in his limp hand.

Eddie watches as Steve carefully uncaps the ointment, squeezes out a small dollop, then steps into his space. He’s a bit taller than Eddie, so he has to lean down a bit to get a better look at what he’s doing, and Eddie has to pretend like he’s not holding his breath. “It might be cold,” he warns, just a second before he presses the medicine gently to the burn.

Eddie hisses. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “It doesn’t really- just caught me off-guard, that’s all.”

Steve nods, but Eddie notices how he immediately gentles his movements. “This ointment is good for any kind of cuts, scrapes, burns. I keep a tube in here, and a tube in the girls’ bathroom as well, if you ever need it,” Steve explains quietly, his eyebrows furrowed in focus as he spreads the ointment around.

“Okay,” Eddie says, feeling a little lightheaded. He recognizes, vaguely, that something about this is sort of exciting. He’s not sure if it’s the closeness, the anomaly of it all, or just the fact that for once he has all of Steve’s attention, just on him, but either way - it does something to him.

Something that apparently doesn’t go unnoticed. As Steve goes to recap the bottle, his nostrils flare a little, and he stills, his eyes wide when they glance at Eddie.

Eddie flushes. God fucking damn his stupid omega scent and his stupid hormones and -

“Eddie,” Steve says, his voice breathy.

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie says, speaking too loud for the close space they’re sharing. He steps away from Steve quickly, pulling the sweatshirt over his head and making his way to the door. “I’ll, um… wash your sweatshirt tomorrow and put it back,” he says. He’s not sure why he thinks escaping this room is the solution; this is Steve’s house and they’re about to eat dinner - naturally, he’s just going to follow him.

“Hon,” Steve tries again, an odd look on his face as he steps closer to Eddie.

Eddie spins on his heel. “I need to go finish dinner and tell the girls it’s time to eat.”

He leaves Steve standing there, and breathes a sigh of relief when the girls come into the kitchen only a few seconds after he’s made it there himself, pulling the food out of the oven like he’d never left his place. “Dinner is almost ready, girls,” Eddie says, faking a cheerful tone he doesn’t actually feel. His hands shake when he places the pan down.

The twins are babbling about some movie they want to watch, and Eddie pretends he doesn’t notice it when Steve comes into the room. He also pretends he doesn’t notice the slight shift in his scent. He can’t notice that, he really can’t. Eddie cobbles together the macaroni and cheese quickly while Steve goes to fetch the plates and glasses out of the cabinet. It’s tense, and Eddie pretends like he doesn’t notice that either.

“Here,” Steve says quietly from Eddie’s side, holding a plate in one hand and a serving spoon in the other. “I’ll make one plate, you make the other?” he asks, avoiding direct eye contact.

Eddie nods, tries to hold his breath when he passes behind Steve to grab another plate, desperate to ignore the way Steve’s scent has shifted into something completely fucking irresistable. They work in tandem, preparing each of the girls’ dinners, and as Steve is setting the girls’ utensils out, Eddie numbly goes about preparing Steve’s plate, careful to pick out the onions as he scoops up vegetables. He does it on autopilot, having already committed this particular quirk of Steve’s to memory, even within the short period of time he’s been there. When he turns to hand it to Steve, there’s a soft look of surprise on the other man’s face.

“Oh. Did you-” he starts, glancing at the food.

“Yeah, I left the onions out,” Eddie says with a little shrug, trying to avoid the way Steve stares at him, grabbing his own plate.

He jumps a little when Steve reaches out and squeezes his bicep gently. “Thank you,” he says softly, rubbing the spot his hand is resting on. Eddie can’t help but glance at him then, and Steve gives him a sweet, genuine smile. “For remembering that,” he adds before stepping away.

Eddie shifts his gaze to stare down at his robotic movements as he scoops food into his own plate. “Of course,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. He still feels unsettled, raw from the weirdly intimate… interaction they’d had only a few minutes prior. He feels like it’s written all over his face, the way he’s aching for something he can never have, and wearing something so distinctly Steve’s isn’t helping matters any.

He sits at the opposite end of the bar from Steve, like they usually do, the twins sitting in between them. Ivy is closest to her father and Jasmine is closest to Eddie, and secretly, Eddie’s relieved. Jasmine may notice just as much as her sister, but she certainly doesn’t loudly ask questions like Ivy is prone to.

Or at least, Eddie thought.

“Daddy has a shirt just like that,” Jasmine says to Eddie halfway through dinner, Ivy telling Steve about a pair of shoes she wants at the other end of the bar.

Eddie hopes and prays that Steve doesn’t hear her comment, but when he sneaks a glance over at him, it’s clear that he has. And not only has he apparently heard it - the fucker smiles. It’s not a smirk; there’s no malice in it, it’s just a soft twitch of his lips as he meets Eddie’s gaze.

“Yeah?” Eddie says, his mouth dry as he forces his gaze away from Steve. He’s not even sure what to say to that, or how to recover.

Luckily, despite whatever tension Eddie feels is suffocating the two of them from all sides, Steve doesn’t leave him hanging. Instead of remarking on the shirt in any way, he asks the girls what they want for dessert, the easy distraction giving Eddie a little room to breathe. He can’t help but peek over at Steve again, offering him a weak, grateful smile when Steve catches his eye.

“How about you guys go pick a movie while Eddie and I get some cookies and milk ready, yeah?” Steve says to the girls once everyone is finished eating, Eddie already standing to collect the plates.

“Can we watch-” Jasmine starts immediately. She doesn’t get very far before Ivy is speaking over her, and Eddie can’t help but smile at them, shaking his head.

“Ah! Nope, go, go pick out a movie. You have to agree on it, okay?” Steve says, all but shooing them off into the living room as he begins to help Eddie clear the table.

The twins skip off into the living room to argue some more, and Eddie deflates a little. That lasts all of two seconds before Steve is stepping into his space to place some dishes in the sink, and then Eddie is going rigid again, desperately hoping that his scent is under control now.

“Hey,” Steve says, watching Eddie run water over the dishes. “You wash, I’ll dry?” he asks softly.

Eddie nods silently.

They stand there together for a few minutes as Eddie lets the water run hot, grabbing the dish soap and a sponge and getting to work scrubbing the plates. He rinses and hands them to Steve in silence, nothing but the sound of running water and bickering six-year-olds filling the empty space between them.

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmurs as Eddie is finishing the last plate.

Eddie doesn’t reply right away. He takes a moment, giving the forks a preliminary rinse before scrubbing them with the sponge. “You didn’t do anything,” Eddie says eventually. He is steadfastly refusing to make eye contact, staring down at the cutlery like they’ll run away if he takes his eyes off them. “I… I apologize for, um…”

Steve’s fingers brush the back of Eddie’s hand when he reaches for the forks. “It’s fine,” Steve reassures him. “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry for crossing a line. I didn’t even think about…” He trails off, and Eddie can feel him staring at his face, willing him to look back.

And Eddie is a weak man. He looks, and finds Steve’s expression open and apologetic. “It’s okay,” he says softly.

He expects a quick agreement and an end to the conversation, so he’s surprised when instead, Steve shakes his head. “No, Eddie, I really wasn’t… wasn’t very professional. And I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, I promise it won’t happen again.”

Something in Eddie sinks at that, and he can’t even pretend that it’s not the familiar taste of disappointment. “Oh,” he says faintly. He hands Steve the last cup to dry, grabbing another towel to dry his hands off with.

When Steve’s finished with that cup, Eddie’s already pulling out the milk and searching the pantry for the Oreos. “I’ll go help them set up the movie,” Steve says quietly.

Eddie nods, worrying at his lip. He wants to say something. He’s trying to bite the words back, but-

“Steve,” he says, quiet enough that it wouldn’t surprise him if Steve hadn’t heard.

He does, turning around and raising an eyebrow expectantly. “Yeah?”

Eddie swallows hard, pulling out a packet of Oreos finally, shutting the cabinet door as he looks back at Steve. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says firmly. If nothing else gets said about the situation, Eddie wants him to know that. He doesn’t have to know how far from uncomfortable the situation actually did make him feel, but that’s a good first step, he thinks.

Steve’s eyes widen, just a little. Enough for Eddie to notice from where he stands a couple feet away, at least, and something about that is just a little bit satisfying. Eddie watches as Steve processes this, nods slowly, and swallows. “Right,” he says. “Okay. Thanks for… um, reassuring me about that.”

It almost makes Eddie want to laugh, but instead he just smiles and nods. He watches Steve make his way over to the girls, and maybe it’s his imagination, but Eddie swears that Steve shivers, or at least shakes himself, like he’s been caught off guard.

Something about that makes Eddie feel a lot better.

He joins them in the living room a few minutes later, three glasses of milk balanced in his hands, the pack of Oreos balanced precariously on top of them. “Careful,” he says when Ivy flops onto the couch just as he’s setting the glasses down on the coffee table. “Alright, four Oreos each?” Eddie asks, glancing around at Steve with what he hopes are very convincing pleading eyes.

Steve puts his hands on his hips, pursing his lips. “I usually only give them three each,” he says, fully aware that Eddie already knows this after they’d had this conversation two or three nights ago.

Eddie bats his eyes sweetly. He’s not even playing at it in a seductive way, simply trying to bribe more sugar for these kids he’s starting to care about like they are his own. Still, despite the innocent intent behind the action, he notices Steve’s Adam’s apple bob, his gaze shifting from Eddie like he’s… nervous? That can’t be right.

“Alright,” Steve says, glancing at the twins, who look all too happy from their spot on the other end of the couch. “Just this once,” he warns to the sound of their excited chatter. He glances back at Eddie, giving him an exasperated sort of smile. “Feels illegal, you teaming up against me with them,” he murmurs as he sits down in his armchair, which Eddie had gathered was his unofficial assigned seat.

Eddie shrugs, but can’t help the grin that creeps onto his face. The evening has made a quick turn around back into their usual banter, and Eddie is beyond grateful for the feeling of normalcy. “What can I say, I just think they’re cooler,” Eddie ribs playfully, reaching over to hand the twins their portion of Oreos. “Be careful not to get crumbs all over the couch,” he says, the warning falling easily from his mouth.

He turns to Steve next, pulling the same amount of Oreos out of the package and reaching out to hand them to him. “Here,” Eddie says, glancing up at Steve’s face when he doesn’t immediately hold his hand out for them. He has a soft look on his face, and Eddie can’t help his body’s natural instinct to flush red all over. “What?” he asks in a near whisper, aware that the girls are already well-distracted by their movie.

“Nothing,” Steve says lightly. “I just…” He shrugs, getting an almost helpless look on his face. “I just think you’ve been really great with the kids so far this week. So, thank you.”

Eddie’s definitely blushing. He glances down, feels stupid for the way he’s still holding the Oreos out and Steve isn’t taking them. It prompts him to lean forward, grabbing Steve’s hand and holding it out himself, stacking the Oreos neatly on his palm. “Well,” Eddie says, unsure how to even accept that kind of genuine gratitude. “I really enjoy being here,” he admits, feeling a little silly for saying something which he thinks is probably quite obvious.

Steve gives him an easy smile. “I can tell,” he says quietly. “I think that’s why they like you so much,” he continues, nodding at the twins.

Eddie smiles, proud. He closes the Oreo package, deciding to skip on dessert for tonight. “I’m glad,” he says, watching the twins fondly as they take apart their Oreos, licking the cream out of the middle like a pair of little heathens. He glances back at Steve and has to hide his smirk when he finds him doing the same thing, his eyes still trained on Eddie. “Like father, like daughter,” Eddie teases.

Steve blinks, cocks his head to the side like a confused, lost puppy. It’s ridiculously cute. Eddie rolls his eyes, gesturing to the twins. He watches as it clicks, Steve’s face relaxing into an easy grin. He gives a little shrug, like he’s saying “What can you do?” Eddie has to force himself to look away, tucking his left leg mostly underneath himself with his right leg propped up as he turns to stare at the television screen, not really taking in a single thing. He props his elbow up on his own knee, dropping his head into his hand. The sleeve of his borrowed sweatshirt falls just a little too far over his hand, and he hopes it isn’t ridiculously obvious, the way he’s sniffing at it, trying to inhale Steve’s scent as much as he can.

They’re probably halfway through the movie when Steve gets up to go carry the cookies and glasses back to the kitchen. Eddie glances up at him, shaking his head. “Oh, I can get that, sir-”

Steve gives him a look. “I’ve got it, hon. And you don’t… remember, you don’t have to call me that.”

Eddie flushes, but nods. “Right, sorry,” he mumbles. It still feels weird, that Steve doesn’t want that title, that one little boundary that would help make all this even more professional.

He watches Steve collect the glasses, turning back to the film a little reluctantly when the only thing left to look at is Steve’s backside as he walks to the kitchen. Eddie feels a little gross about wanting to look, so he forces himself to find entertainment on the screen instead.

He’s pulled out of it slightly when Ivy hops up from the couch, and he glances at her as she goes and plops herself into Steve’s chair, giggling when she catches Eddie’s eye. “Watch what Daddy does when I steal his chair!” she says, burrowing herself into the chair like she’s there to stay.

Sure enough, Steve returns from the kitchen just a couple minutes later, a laugh in his voice when he spots her. “What’ve we got here?” he teases, rubbing his hand over her head. “I think someone is in my chair.”

Ivy giggles loudly, tilting her head back to look up at her dad with a huge grin. “Can’t I sit here, just for tonight?” She asks, her voice sweet.

Steve hums, like he’s considering it. “Hmm… Well, I suppose you have been pretty good this week,” he tells her.

Ivy whoops excitedly, like she knows she’s already won. And she has, of course. Steve bends down and kisses the top of her head before stepping closer to the couch. Instinctively, Eddie moves towards the middle, freeing up the space next to the armrest for Steve.

“Hi,” Steve says with a little grin as he settles into the spot Eddie has just abandoned.

Eddie smiles at him, tries to pretend like he’s unbothered by the closeness. “Hi,” he parrots before turning back to the television.

The one thing he’d learned that he doesn’t particularly like about the way Steve has this apartment set up is the living room. The television sits on one wall with the armchair directly facing it, the coffee table sitting in the space in between the two. The couch, however, sits along the wall of windows, facing the kitchen area and forming perpendicular lines with the armchair and television. It’s alright when they’re not watching something, but when they are - well, the couch-sitters have to turn either their head or their whole body to be able to watch.

It’s inconvenient at best.

Especially when Steve is basically sitting behind him, and Eddie can practically feel his gaze. He tries to rationalize it, that Steve is just watching the movie, not watching him, but when he risks a look over his shoulder, Steve is already looking back at him. He startles, when Eddie makes eye contact, and Eddie feels his face flush with color.

He turns back to the television, once again burying his nose into the fabric of the sweatshirt and taking a deep, slow breath, like that’ll help calm his nerves any. It works, for just a minute.

But then, he feels a hand on his thigh.

His eyes fly open immediately, and he glances down at where Steve’s hand is resting so gently on his leg, over the soft flannel of his pajama pants, close enough to the knee that it doesn’t feel completely suggestive. Eddie glances back at Steve again, hoping his eyes betray his confusion.

Steve gives him a little smile, tilting forward so he can speak softly in Eddie’s ear. “Is the burn still hurting?” he asks. His lips barely brush the shell of Eddie’s ear, and he’s afraid he might do something stupid like faint, or moan.

“Uh…” Eddie says, fumbling like an idiot for something to say. “I… no?” He says, like it’s some kind of question. Steve is so close, his scent is so strong, and Eddie’s afraid that his scent is probably matching in intensity, and he only hopes that it’s not doing the stupid omega betrayal thing.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks. He pats Eddie’s thigh gently. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay.”

Eddie nods dumbly, glancing over his shoulder at Steve. His face is closer than Eddie expected, and he has to reel back a little so they don’t bump their noses together. “Yeah, I feel fine,” he says, somehow managing to make it sound relatively stable. He even manages a smile. “Thank you for checking on me.”

Steve smiles, then pulls his hand away, leaning back against the couch like he’s content. “Of course,” he says easily. His hand comes up and he rubs a few circles into Eddie’s shoulder blades. “That’s part of my job,” he says with a cheesy little smile.

Eddie almost wants to argue that no, it’s his job to make sure that Steve and his daughters are well looked-after, but… but for some reason he doesn’t. Because he’s starting to realize, as odd as it is… it’s nice, to be looked after. To have someone who wants to care about you.

He’s not sure he’s ever really had that before.

~~~

It’s only a little bit later that the credits of the movie roll, and Steve and Eddie have to carry two half-asleep girls to their bedroom. Jasmine is mostly limp in Eddie’s arms, her little arms around his neck as she just barely holds onto him as he carries her down the hall.

Steve carries Ivy, who is practically dead weight from the way he grimaces when he scoops her up, and Eddie can’t help but be a little proud that he got the better end of the bargain.

They’ve already managed to create somewhat of a system with their bedtime routine. They’ll each tuck in one twin, make sure she has her stuffed animal of choice, and then swap places to say goodnight to the other. It’s a simple system, one that so far this week they’ve only faltered on once. It’s a routine Eddie can easily see himself becoming used to for a long time.

Tonight they don’t falter on it either. After Eddie has given Jasmine her favorite stuffed penguin, he kisses her head, murmuring a quiet, “g’night, love bug,” before stepping back. He almost bumps into Steve and they reach out to steady each other at the same time, Steve’s hand landing on Eddie’s waist, while Eddie’s hand goes to Steve’s arm. “Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, embarrassed.

Steve squeezes his hip. “Careful, hon,” he says before swapping places with Eddie, going to say goodnight to Jasmine.

Ivy’s eyes are already closed but she holds her arms out. “Hug,” she demands simply.

Eddie grins, shaking his head. “Yes ma’am,” he says, leaning down to hug her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Need anything?” He asks, smoothing her blanket down.

Ivy shakes her head, snuggling into her pillow, her stuffed animal tucked under her arm. “No, I’m good,” she mumbles. “Night.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Eddie says softly, making sure she’s fully tucked in before stepping towards the door. He can feel Steve following close behind, and pauses to wait for him to close the door.

And then, it’s just the two of them.

“You headed to bed?” Steve asks softly, stuffing his hands in his back pockets, a little more awkward than Eddie is used to seeing him.

Eddie shakes his head, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind his ear, a little flushed with the scent of Steve wafting off the borrowed sweatshirt. “I need to do some laundry first, since… you know,” he shrugs, gesturing to himself pointedly.

Steve nods. “Right, right.” He rubs at the back of his neck, glancing down the hall. “Um… I’ve got a couple things to throw in the wash too, if you don’t mind sharing a load?”

Eddie wants to laugh at that, at how obviously he doesn’t mind doing just that, but he also doesn’t want to sound too pathetic. “Sure,” Eddie nods as he steps towards his bedroom. “I’ll just grab mine, if you’ll go get yours?”

“Sure,” Steve nods as well before disappearing down the hall. Eddie hums quietly to himself as he gathers up his dirty clothes, which is pretty much… everything he owns, really. He’s dumping it into the washer when Steve comes back, a small pile in his own arms. Eddie quirks a brow when he sees it.

“I didn’t realize you owned so much black clothes,” he says, taking the items from Steve and dumping them into the washer atop his own things.

Steve shrugs. “It’s mostly just underwear,” he says casually, like that doesn’t make Eddie’s whole body tingle. It’s stupid, but he just knows that now he’s going to be thinking about how all of his clothes have touched Steve’s boxers, which have touched Steve’s - nope, not going there.

“Oh,” Eddie says, mostly to fill the silence. He adds some detergent and fabric softener, feeling a little self-conscious with Steve standing right there beside him. He closes the lid and sets the cycle, and when he turns, Steve is leaning against the wall, studying him. “What?” Eddie asks, a little embarrassed.

Steve just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing. Come on, you want a drink?”

He doesn’t give Eddie a chance to respond, instead heading straight for the kitchen. Eddie trails slowly behind him, hesitating when he sees Steve pull out two short glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

“Oh, I-“ he pauses. He doesn’t want to sound stupid, but…

“Hm?” Steve hums, glancing up at Eddie after pouring a glass. “Oh, do you not-“

“I don’t like whiskey,” Eddie says with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, I just-“

Steve cuts him off with a dismissive wave. “Pft, that’s nothing to apologize for. It’s definitely an… acquired taste,” he says with a little laugh. He recaps the bottle and places it back in that pantry above the fridge, and Eddie watches as he roots around for something else. “So, what do you like? Scotch? Vodka? I can mix you something, if you want…”

Eddie’s stupid eyes have traveled down the long length of Steve’s muscular back, so easy to see against the strain of his stupid fucking t-shirt he’d changed into earlier. He completely misses whatever it is Steve is saying to him or asking him, and when Steve turns to look at him over his shoulder, Eddie feels like he might actually burst into flames in sheer embarrassment.

“Eds?” Steve says, his voice carrying just a slight hint of amusement. “Drink?”

Eddie shakes his head, hoping his shaking curls will hide his mortification. “Uh, no thanks,” he says, going to sit on one of the barstools, fiddling with his rings.

Steve sighs and closes the cabinet, grabbing his glass of whiskey before rounding the counter to stand almost right in front of Eddie. “Eddie, you can have a drink. The twins are in bed. You’re basically off-duty right now,” he says as he takes a sip.

If it were anyone else, Eddie would mistake it for flirting.

He knows better.

“Yeah, but you aren’t in bed,” he says, pointing a finger at Steve’s chest playfully.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Right, but I didn’t hire you to babysit me,” he says, his grin melting into a smirk. “Or is this you telling me that you think I need a babysitter?”

Eddie has to bite his lip to hide the massive grin that’s threatening to take over his face. He loves this kind of banter, and it puts him at ease in a way he hasn’t felt in ages. “No, not at all,” he says. He can’t help the way his face looks when he tacks on, “You’ve already got one, remember?”

Steve laughs at that, like a genuine laugh, the kind of laugh Eddie doesn’t think anyone could fake. “Right, right,” he says. “Honestly, I probably do need a babysitter worse than they do. I’m kind of a mess.”

Eddie is acutely aware of how close together they are right now. If he wanted to, he could move his hand and touch Steve’s thigh, easily. Instead, he tightens his hands into fists, just so he doesn’t tempt himself. “I don’t think you’re a mess,” he says, soft.

There’s a sad look on Steve’s face then, one that Eddie almost doesn’t recognize. “Yeah… not yet, maybe.” He just sounds so distraught then, so sad, that Eddie really can’t help himself.

He reaches out without thinking about it, resting his fingertips against Steve’s wrist gently. “Hey,” he says, ducking his head to look up at Steve’s face. “Maybe you are a mess,” he says, shrugging. “So what? You’re also a good dad, and…” he hesitates. What he wants to say next might be just a little inappropriate, given the nature of their relationship.

“And?” Steve prompts softly. The thin skin of his wrist is warm underneath Eddie’s fingertips.

Eddie takes a deep breath. He feels stupid, but he knows he needs to say this, to give Steve a little peace of mind. “And… probably the kindest alpha I’ve ever met. Okay? And that means a lot, even if you’re a mess.”

Steve smiles, a small, unsure thing. “Really?” he asks, peering down at Eddie, his eyelashes fanning softly over his cheekbones. He’s so gorgeous, it actually hurts a little bit.

“Yes,” Eddie says back, his voice almost a whisper. He pulls his hand away, dropping it to rest in his lap.

Steve sets his drink down on the bar, and Eddie wishes that he was about to pull him into an embrace. Instead, he leans against the counter, one hand supporting him while his other hand reaches out and brushes some of Eddie’s hair back out of his face. “I appreciate that,” he says, matching Eddie’s volume. “I think you’re flattering me a bit, but I’ll take it.”

Eddie shakes his head, which disrupts the hand that Steve still hasn’t removed from his hair. “I’m not, I promise,” Eddie disagrees. “I… I’ve seen some shit, Mr. Har- Steve,” he catches himself at the look on Steve’s face. “And… and so far, I think it’s easy to say that you’re probably one of the good ones.”

“Thank you,” Steve says quietly. His eyes are intense as they dart between Eddie’s and he’s a little relieved when Steve drops his hand and steps back, putting some much-needed space in between them. “How’s the burn feeling?” he asks, gesturing to Eddie’s stomach.

With everything else going on, Eddie had managed to forget all about it. He puts a hand over his stomach, like he’ll be able to tell anything by just hovering over it, and shrugs. “I think it’s fine,” he says. “Still hurts a bit, but that’s kind of what I expected.”

Steve nods. “I’ll put some more ointment on it in the morning,” he says. He seems to catch himself then, and his eyes widen just a bit. “Or- I mean- you can, if you don’t- I don’t have to-”

Eddie cuts him off then with a gentle smile. “That would be great, Steve, thank you,” he says.

That seems to settle Steve’s nerves, and he nods, downing the last of his whiskey. “Okay,” he says. “And, um… One more thing I wanted to ask you,” he says, sounding almost… nervous?

“Sure,” Eddie says, watching as Steve goes to rinse out the glass.

“So, the girls and I are going shopping tomorrow, and I know it’s your day off, but I thought you’d like to go with us,” Steve says, glancing up at Eddie’s face and away again quickly.

“Oh,” Eddie says, a little surprised at the offer. “I don’t have any plans, so… sure, I’d love to.”

Steve smiles, visible relief on his face. “Okay, perfect. I thought we could maybe find you a few new outfits, too, if that’s alright?” He carefully doesn’t look at Eddie as he says this, drying the glass off a little more than Eddie thinks it probably needs.

“Oh,” Eddie repeats. He’s not sure how to feel about that. Is he going to have some kind of… nanny uniform rules to follow? Because he quite likes the style he sports now, thank you, and if Steve thinks-

“You can pick out whatever you want,” Steve says hurriedly. “I’ll pay for everything, I just…” he shrugs, finally turning back to look at Eddie without any shift in his gaze. “I really don’t want you going without,” he says.

Eddie’s quick on the defense, this time. “I am not going without,” he says, trying to keep his tone even. He’s used to living with the bare minimum, it doesn’t bother him. And while the idea of some new things sounds great in theory… in practice, he’s a little worried about this. About what it would mean if Steve were the one buying him these things, and what kind of strings would be attached.

“Right,” Steve says, shaking his head, his eyebrows furrowed. He looks upset, and Eddie realizes, vaguely, that he’s not upset with him, just annoyed with himself. “I didn’t mean like… I just want you to have things, okay? I know it’s sort of materialistic, but…” He gives an awkward little laugh, rubs the back of his neck as he looks away. “Gift-giving is one of my love languages, I guess.”

Eddie’s stupid heart thrums hard at the word. “Right,” he echoes quietly.

“It’s just… how I like to take care of people. And for as long as you stay with us, it’s my responsibility to take care of you, alright?” Steve finally returns his gaze, and he looks determined. “You’ll pick out whatever you want, yeah? Please?”

And how the hell is Eddie supposed to say no to a face like that? Especially when the face is saying “please?” all sweet like that? He can’t.

Instead, he nods. “Okay,” he says softly. “Um… thank you.”

Steve just smiles and shakes his head. “No need. Just be ready to shop till you drop, okay?”

[letjoelightshine]

Just posted on my Facebook feed

I just wanted to let you know that this post is long overdue.

I am a good person. I'm polite, kind, and willing to help those in need if I can assist. I'm one of those never looking for recognition for doing a good deed.

Now for those who have been offended or do not agree with anything that I posted let me be the first to say this:

I am not a current Trump supporter, however, I have voted for him in the last two elections because I considered him to be the best of the candidates on the ticket. I personally do not see a clear direction that the liberals have on fixing the issues that America is currently dealing with. That is my personal opinion which is protected by our constitution. IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT PLEASE TAKE YOURSELF OFF MY FRIEND LIST.

I like to joke, be silly, and have fun. Most of it is at my expense. I do make fun of myself at times. My humor is mostly dark. Sometimes you have to sit and think about my jokes to find the humor. Sometimes it can get a little raunchy, and at times it may look like I'm belittling myself, but let me assure you that it is just a joke. No need to get uptight, no need to worry about my mental state, I am of sound mind. If you didn't laugh, sorry. Now for the disclaimer: IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY ANY OF MY HUMOR EITHER PASS BY WITHOUT A WORD OR JUST TAKE YOURSELF OFF MY FRIEND LIST.

I smoke marijuana. My marijuana use is for pain management purposes. I do not take any pharmaceutical drugs of any kind due to the harmful nature of the side effects it brings. I have osteoarthritis over most of the joints in my body ranging from my neck to my shoulders, hands, hips, ankles, and feet with the need for a knee replacement. I have been applauded by medical professionals for my techniques in pain management by not using opioids. I now live in a state where it is legal to use both medically and recreationally. If I post a picture of a bowl loaded with marijuana or me smoking a joint it's because of my support of the freedom of marijuana use. Once again: IF YOU ARE OFFENDED YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO.

Last but not least. More than one person has confronted me about my faith in God by posting some of the things that I have posted in the last couple of years. Please let me remind you of one thing. It is not your duty to judge others. It is your duty to pray for things that weigh heavy on your heart. If any of my actions result in you praying for me then that is fantastic because I enjoy receiving prayers. If you are worried about my faith in our Lord and Saviour Christ Jesus, then don't be. My faith is stronger than it ever has been knowing that there is a God that loves me despite anything that I do or may have done. I continually pray for his guidance through this world that we live in and all the different people that come into our lives daily.

I have been attacked by this current culture of woke. I know some of you have been sincere in your advice and I am grateful to have those who pay attention to my actions. However, I have to be who I am which is something that I think I lost trying to put on a front for those that think people should act a certain way. I'm done acting. I am who I am and you are going to see more of it in the future.

SINCERELY BIGG JOE

[fulltimemoaner]

If you're still accepting a prompt? Maybe a little drabble of Zhongli getting hurt after he protects Childe but since Zhongli is a prime adeptus, he heals quickly so he's not even fazed but Childe still panics and fusses over him, getting angry at Zhongli for taking the blow for him. Meanwhile, Zhongli is confused why Childe is so worried.

always accepting prompts anon!!

+++++

The arrow is still deeply seethed within his gut, sending electric jolts down his spine, his body doused in the residue of Childe’s Obliteration, hair dripping wet and body paralysed for those few seconds that it takes for his geo energy to blast the measly elemental power away, the warm power of his stone resonating deep within his chest. He takes a deep breath and drives the end of his polearm to the ground for support, his eyes searching for Childe’s form in the crowded battleground where they had been ambushed by a gang of treasure hoarders. His eyes are wide as saucers when he sees a man closing into the Snezhnayan from behind, and he almost acts on instinct, kicking the end of his spear hard enough to send it flying right into the mortal’s head, a deadly shot that sent the lifeless body tumbling a few feet away.

“Behind you!” Childe screams from across the field, and before he has any time to react, Zhongli feels a cold blade press against his throat.

“Fatui bastard!” The treasure hoarder screams, pulling the ex Archon flash against his chest. “Take another step and I’m cutting him open.”

Childe is approaching, slowly, warily, hydro blades clutched on both hands. “You don’t want to do that.” There is the telltale laugh, verging on the thin line between consciousness and insanity. “You can choose a dignified death.”

Zhongli regards him with a level nod, his amber eyes observing ten, maybe twenty, thieves closing in on Ajax from behind.

“Don’t you move an inch, Mr. Zhongli. I’ll take care of this.”

Zhongli watches him reaching out for his mask, and a part of him promptly refuses to let him go for that trick. With all caution thrown to the wind, he elbows the thief in the gut and feels him double over. The knife slides across his neck and makes a gush so deep he can feel the blood raining down his clothes, but it’s alright, it’s collateral damage. Chidle’s eyes darken and a tidal wave starts forming beneath him, emerging into the size of a colossal sea creature crafted out of the finest hydro powers. Zhongli runs towards him before the wave can crash against them, just in time to spread his arms out and form a protective shield around them.

When Ajax opens his eyes again, he is certain that the mortals have been crushed like insects underneath the tidal waves. There is a quiet serenity within Zhongli’s shield, knowing that outside the golden aura lay massacre. He lets his daggers evaporate and kneels down, next to the panting adeptus to inspect the damage done. “Take a deep breath,” his tone is low, serious, and Zhongli seems nonchalant, even as Childe tears the arrow out of his stomach. His chest is fluttering like a fish’ out of the water, and Ajax can imagine his lungs pooling with blood from his gushing neck. He presses a hurried hand against the ugly cut, gripping with an aim, his own heart overwhelmed with worry. “You’re in shreds.” The Fatui whispers, an edge of fury tinting his voice. “I told you to stay still.”

“I didn’t-“ Zhongli coughs violently, because, adeptus or not, his neck was still gaping open. “Want you to use that.”

Ajax bites his lips and tips his head forward, trying to suppress a violent reaction and a cry of frustration. “We need to find a doctor.”

Zhongli shakes his head, his lover’s hand already doing enough to constrict the flow of blood. Childe observes the pale skin on the ex archon’s face, the contrast it creates against the crimson lining of his lashes and the vibrant amber of his eyes. “You don’t know how long you can last without your Gnosis.”

“I will be alright.” Zhongli insists, not wishing to grace the Bubu pharmacy with his presence under any circumstances, not with the suspicious owner and the little creature that could probably sense the sheer adeptal energy vibrating off him. When he looks up, he sees Childe’s furrowed brows and twitching mouth, the fury evident in his barely restrained expression.

“Sometimes you should learn to listen.” Ajax glowers, gripping his lover’s neck tighter than he intended, the jerking motion enough to pull him forward and make him wince over the friction the wound in his throat received. “I’m worried,” The ginger gasps out, his chest throbbing with a confusing feeling. A mixture of care, unmeasured care, and the need to smother Zhongli in his weakened state. His brain hurts with the clashing emotions and there is nothing more he wants than to shut it up, more than he wishes to twist that beautiful neck and hear it snap underneath his fingertips. Childe feels the panic flare from within, not understanding the sudden urge to sincerely hurt his lover, so he chooses to blame it on the turmoil and the grip of the Abyss on his conscious.

“You know it takes more than that to kill me.” Zhongli whispers, feeling the murderous aura radiating off the ticking bomb that the Snezhnayan was at the best of times. “It’s already healing.”

“It’s not a matter of knowing.” Childe has to bite his inner cheek until it bleeds. “It’s a matter of chance.” He slowly withdraws his hand, watches the cut disappear quickly from the God’s skin. He throws his head back with a laugh, his eyes half lidded. “Morax’s spears rained down from the sky and built the earth.” His voice was laced with irony and malice. “Morax is sustaining wounds for a mortal lover.” Childe spits, his hand grabbing a fistful of dark locks to bring Zhongli’s stoic face close to his. “Only I am allowed to kill you, you understand that?”

Zhongli’s expression softens into a gentle smile in spite of the awkward angle his head is bent in. He thought that through the jumbled words and emotions that the human had just slurred out in his post slaughtering bliss, he managed to find some sort of meaning. “It’s only human to worry, Ajax.”’

Childe grits his teeth at the unfiltered grief in his gut. Feeling somewhat more level-headed, he pulls on a pained smile. “Stop reminding me of my mortality.” And finally, Zhongli chuckles, his eyes closing easily. Ajax grabs the chance to kiss him and apologise, his stained gloves caressing the already faded wound on his adeptus lover’s neck in gratitude.

[toushindai]

Respect and approval in the relationship between Zagreus and Megaera

So, I think a lot of people know that there's a mini storyline between Megaera and Zagreus that proceeds as follows: Megaera brusquely informs Zagreus that his victories against her "don't count" as he couldn't possibly have achieved them without Nyx's help via the mirror. If you respond to this by emptying out the mirror and fighting her, she'll remark on it. This exchange is referenced in an incredible video about Hades' dialogue system that I will link in the comments to this post (since we all know how tumblr is about links) and which I highly recommend if you haven't watched it already.

But I was surprised that the video didn't go on to highlight what is my favorite (and surely relevant to the video?) aspect of this storyline--that once you've beaten Meg like that, the followup conversation at home has three different variants based on how many gifts you've given her!

Spoilers for a lot of late-game, including post-credits, content.

The three variants are low relationship (zero gifts - five gifts); high relationship (six gifts - nine gifts); "became close" relationship (ten gifts).

At low relationship, the conversation is as follows. I apologize but I don't have screenshots for any of these; I'm taking the text from the files.

Megaera: Beaten. By you. Without the help of Nyx's mirror. You humiliated me. And now you've come to rub it in, I guess? Well, go on, then. Not like you can shame me any more. Zagreus: Meg, what is it going to take for you to quit treating me like I'm incompetent? Have I not grown even a little since we met? You were supposed to teach me something; what does that make you? Megaera: Tsch... why don't you raise your voice a little louder so that all the House can hear. Is that what you want? For everyone to know that you're superior to me? Zagreus: You're not hearing me, Meg. I know it sounds a little disingenuous considering we keep fighting to the death and all, but... I never meant to hurt you. Megaera: You give yourself far too much credit, Zagreus. Leave me alone.

At high relationship:

Megaera: Beaten. By you. Without the help of Nyx's mirror. You humiliated me. And now you've come to rub it in, I guess? Well, go on, then. Not like you can shame me any more. Zagreus: Meg, that isn't why I'm here, you know that isn't how I am. Why can't you see it? All I've ever wanted was to prove myself to you. Megaera: Tsch... you think that you can prove yourself to me by winning in a fight? Zagreus: Sometimes I think that I can never really win with you, Meg. If I held back, what would you have thought? Megaera: If you think you know me so well, Zagreus, then you ought to know better than to keep this conversation going with me, now.

(Yeah, that's "high relationship.")

At became close relationship:

Megaera: I can't believe it, Zag. I thought for sure that Nyx's mirror was the only reason you could beat me. I knew you'd changed to some extent, but... not this much. Zagreus: I had to see if I could do it, Meg. I've learned so much from you, I... thought maybe this was a way that I could prove myself to you. And to myself. Megaera: Prove yourself, to me...? You must not be as comfortable in your own skin as you let on. I can't decide if I like that about you. Now leave me alone while I give it some thought.

Which... it's better, right? It's better. It's maybe not great, still. But they are trying.

I mean so let's take this from the top. At low relationship, the conversation is fairly acrimonious on both sides. Feeling humiliated by her loss, Meg lashes out, and Zag snaps in return that if Meg's going to keep treating him like he's incompetent, it's only a reflection on her, who was supposed to teach him something. In this version of their conversation, we see the shadow of the relationship Hades pointedly engineered between the two of them raise its head, and if I were ever asked to textually back up my certainty that Meg, not only Zag, contributed to their breakup, I think I'd cite this. Meg's lack of respect for Zag is clearly a longstanding point of tension. Here, Zag feels like he's done something that ought to earn him her respect, only to be... what? Meg's first line is largely about her own insecurities rather than her opinion of Zag, but at the same time, the assumption that she should be superior, that that's the natural order of things, is baked into it. It's a serious blow to her pride that Zag has upset that natural order, and she's projecting her shame into an assumption that Zagreus is here to pettily gloat. Which is insulting, and Zagreus reacts from that place of insult.

But in his second line, as if he notices her pain, Zag is able to disengage from his anger a little (his portrait shifts from his angry "Defiant" one to his "Empathetic" one), realize that their communication is going a bit awry, and tell Meg that he doesn't mean to hurt her. This does not have the effect he possibly hoped for, and before Meg tells him to hit the bricks she says that he gives himself too much credit--by thinking that he has the capability to hurt her. Now this is a pattern with her, throughout their redeveloping relationship, even at max relationship, even once they're back together: Megaera repeatedly states that Zagreus can't hurt her. Here, it has a clear implication that she thinks Zagreus beneath her, not worth getting hurt over. ...It's absolutely belied by her humiliation in the rest of the conversation, but the scorn with which she makes the assertion is cutting and unkind.

Although... I do wonder. Especially given Zag's statement that he "never meant to hurt [her]"--that doesn't sound like he's just talking about his neat trick of getting past her darkness-free. He's referring to their past, almost certainly, and at 0-5 gifts this is well before he gets around to a proper apology or even his feelingsdump (feelingsdump, er, I'm sorry, "building trust", the "we need to talk" conversation, follows gift#6, the last nectar). What I wonder, sometimes, is--when Megaera says that Zagreus can't hurt her (boy does she love to say that.), if part of what she's saying is that Zagreus is not the only person contributing to the poor relationship between them. This is a thought on a different topic, I guess, and I'm not saying that in this conversation, she suddenly has a flash of insight that she's being kind of shitty and chases him away for that reason. Sincerely, I do think "I'm too good to be hurt by Zagreus" is an emotional habit she has for a sizeable chunk of time--perhaps one she developed as a reaction to their breakup, or as a shield against it as she saw it coming--and is what she means here. But maybe it means something else later. I certainly hope so. Because boy. she really loves to say it.

Let's talk about the variant at high relationship next. You could get this variant anywhere between the last nectar ("We may be immortals, but we're older now") and having given her the second-to-last ambrosia ("I wish I could do over how we started"). Once you give her the last ambrosia (when they drink together), you're in the territory of the final variant.

Meg's still cranky; her first line is the same as in the low relationship variant. It's Zagreus, who is at this time in the process of trying to get back in her good graces, who is less testy in response. I'd say he's clearly still hurt by her response, but he doesn't express that hurt by sniping back at her this time. Instead, he opens up, trying to make his intentions more clear, reminding her that he isn't the type to gloat. He all but says that he wants her respect. And he doesn't get it, here. Frankly, this variant is not much of an improvement on the low relationship one. Meg is less openly insulting, but it's clear that she still doesn't want to be having the conversation.

My thoughts on this variant are similar to my thoughts on some of the ambrosia conversations--and I say this as the most dedicated MegZag shipper you will ever see--in that when I see this, I'm not sure why Zagreus bothers. If, like he says, there's really no action he could take here that wouldn't end in Meg being peeved at him, what is he reaching for? He wants to prove himself to her--why? Is her approval worth having here? When Meg says (to cite the gift nine/third ambrosia conversation) that it's just a question of whether Zag is worth her time, why is it positive that Zagreus's wistful response is to ask her if he is worth her time, then?

Let me start bringing in the became close relationship variant here, starting with the last line of it, because Meg's response to Zagreus outright stating that he wants to prove himself to her is emotionally very similar to her response to Zag asking her if he is worth her time. In both cases, she seems to... not soften, exactly. She seems taken aback. She sees Zagreus's desire for her approval and his vulnerability that he lays bare in front of her, and in both cases, her response is one of uncertainty. She wants time to think about it on her own. She has kept hardening herself in response to the pain of their earlier failure (not every relationship that doesn't work out is a failure but I am quite certain she felt this way about theirs, if only because she was supposed to shape Zagreus a certain way), she hardens herself verbally and defiantly right in front of Zag's damn face, and he answers with wistful vulnerability. She tells him he can't hurt her, and he answers with "OK. But do you care about me? Could you?"

I almost wonder if Zagreus's vulnerability makes Megaera ask herself the same questions that these conversations make me ask myself. That remark she makes, that she's not sure how she feels about Zagreus's insecurity--I wonder if she's seeing how she's contributed to it, and needs time to figure out how to respond more kindly. And not just "more kindly," but in a way that's better for him. In the became close relationship conversation variant, Meg starts off in a much better mood, and offers the approval that--as we've seen in the other variants--Zagreus wants so keenly. However, when he states that as an outright motivation, I think she questions that influence she has on Zagreus, and wavers on whether or not it's a positive one, and wants to withdraw to sort out... everything about that situation. It's not an emotionally vulnerable response, maybe, but I do get the sense that it's a compassionate one.

These two are not perfect. They're coming from a background of a relationship that was arranged for them with the explicit intention of forcing Zagreus to mature--a setup that implicitly (if Hades didn't go ahead and make it explicit which, lbr, he very possibly did) defines Megaera as more mature and therefore superior. That relationship fell apart--and how could it not, with a setup like that--and some time has passed, and now they're stuck in a loop of fighting each other to the death. It's not ideal! But they cared about each other, back during their first relationship. Zagreus outright tells us that he caught feelings. Megaera talks around the same admission--through the rigidness with which she tells Zagreus and herself that they can't return to the way things were, that it isn't possible; through her admission, when Zag says he wishes he could change how they started, that she too "wish[es] for a lot of things." They cared-past-tense and they care-present-tense, but they still have emotional habits from the past, from the imposed hierarchy of their first relationship, and even in the most positive variant of Meg's response to the darkness-free victory, even in some of their biggest steps forward, we see some of those habits rear their head. It's something they have to work on and will continue to work on, I think.

And it's not a hopeless process. One of the best in-game contrasts to this dynamic is (of all things) when Megaera notices that Zagreus has made it onto the Featured Houseservant board. She remarks that never in her wildest fantasies did she imagine that Zagreus would make it up there. Zagreus, I think, doesn't know how to respond to that--he picks up the "wildest fantasies" thread rather than the compliment, bless this horny little man--but Meg is undeterred and points out that he really should be proud of such an achievement. And I think this is the perfect solution to the dilemma that is Zag's desire for Meg's approval, because Meg's uncertainty over that, her sense that it's an insecure concern, is justified. So here, she's showing that she respects his achievement but emphasizing that it's something about him, something he can and should feel intrinsic pride over, rather than just taking pleasure in her extrinsic approval.

This has gotten long (oh god it has gotten long) so I think I'll wrap up here. One of the things I love about Hades is how it doesn't force relationships to be Suddenly Great Now That The Story's Over. Hades and Zagreus are still struggling to figure out a relationship that works. Persephone isn't sure she knows how to be Zagreus's mother. Meg's still not getting along with her sisters (although it has been brought to her attention that she is as culpable in their relationship as they are). I think this point of awkwardness between Zagreus and Megaera--their having to figure out a system of mutual respect where it has not been before--is another example of that pattern. And I think they've got a shot at it. I think they can pull it off.

[sweeethinny]

Come and sit a while with me

It's been a year since I started all of this, that I wrote a fanfic to celebrate Ginny's birthday, and here I am, posting once again, keeping the tradition <3

This story will deal with grief, suicidal thoughts, but it has a happy ending, I swear

Happy birthday, Ginny.

AO3 | FF. NET | SIYE

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It was a normal afternoon at the Potters' house, Ginny wasn't working today and the kids were on vacation, James had gone out with friends, Lily was at the pool with her friends, and she and Albus were enjoying their free time before they had to get ready to go out to dinner and celebrate Ginny's birthday, so they lay on the sofa in the living room, both of them with moisturizing masks on their faces and hair, and the TV on.

The perfect day for her, if she was sincere.

"Mom," Albus muttered, looking at her curiously. "When did you know you loved dad?"

''I always loved your dad.''

''No… when did you know you really love him?'' Albus looked at her, his hair in a bun and his green eyes staring at her in the same way he had since he was born, as if he wanted to know the whole truth, and not half lies. "I mean, when did you look at him and realize he wasn't just another one?"

''Let me see…'' Ginny changed the channel when the movie ended, trying not to smile at the memory. ''I guess I never thought he was just another one, but there was a specific day when I was sure he was the one I wanted to marry…''

August 11, 1998

Ginny loved birthdays, it was simply her favorite date, along with Christmas.

How could anyone not be happy on the day that was entirely and unique to them? Everything revolved around her: the cake, the celebration, the attention, everything. It was her day, the day that Ginny didn't share with anyone, and even though she sometimes felt a bit of a bitch about it, she was glad none of her brothers were born on the same day as her..

She didn't want to have to share this too.

But today wasn't that happy day. Today wasn't sunny and as much as Molly had become more involved in her garden, Ginny's favorite flowers hadn't bloomed in time, as if they knew she was in mourning.

It was the first time that someone would be missing at the party.

Even Charlie called her over the Floo so everyone could sing together and celebrate, but today, it would be eight Weasleys for the first time, not nine. And Ginny didn't know how to deal with that, with that pain that seemed to consume her in every way, and that made her close the bedroom curtains and hide under the covers because she was exhausted.

Exhausted from fighting. Of having to be strong. Not being able to afford the privilege of just crying and admitting it hurt. It hurt a lot. At times it seemed almost impossible to bear. Ginny wanted for the first time in a long while, someone to take over things for her, letting her sleep and cry freely, without judgment, without trying to fix what was broken.

She didn't want a solution.

But she couldn't do that, Molly was doing her best to make this date happy, so that Ginny would realize that there was reason to celebrate, that Fred wouldn't want her to spend all day in her room. She also thought this was unfair, because Fred didn't have to bury one of them, Fred didn't have to go through grief, he never faced that pain, so what would he know?

Ginny knew. She knew what it was like to want to die every day since he died, she was the one who felt this agonizing loneliness that seemed to get bigger every day, she was the one who lay in bed at night and thought she could go crazy at any time because it hurt so much and it was so exhausting.

"May I come in?" A knock on her door made her jump as she tried to hide her dark circles with some of the makeup she had on, and his voice made her curse herself for still being in her pajamas.

''Yes.'' She tried to hide her nervousness because things were still a little awkward between her and Harry, even though she had kissed him a few days after the war ended, on the sofa in the living room in the middle of the night, when her room looked very cold and lonely, and Harry looked so cute wearing plaid pajamas and with his hair cut.

He clearly blamed himself for Fred's death, and Ginny still hadn't gotten over all the latest events: the Carrows' tortures, the war, the deaths, Fred…

Ginny had certain doubts, even though she didn't like to think about it, that they would last.

Maybe they were that couple that everyone looks at and says 'what if life had been different with these two?', figuring they could be something more if there hadn't been so much destruction in their midst.

"Happy birthday." Harry still looked tired, he hadn't regained his weight, but he was already showing signs of improvement, which was good. Ginny was happy to see him look good.

He was wearing the outfit she helped him buy for his birthday when they, Ron and Mione went for a walk in Muggle London. A light blue T-shirt, dark jeans, and black sneakers. A simple outfit, no big deal, but one that seemed to make him look even more handsome, if that was even possible.

The woman who would marry him would be very lucky, Ginny thought.

''Brought it for you.'' She hadn't even noticed that he had his hands behind his back, looking nervous as he showed her a bouquet of honeysuckle, tied with a red satin bow, and a cream-colored card pinned there with his name signed. "I know they're your favorites, and I thought you'd like it." He smiled awkwardly. "I noticed yours didn't bloom this year, and I thought you might want to continue the tradition."

"You didn't have to worry about that." Ginny had to swallow hard to keep from crying in front of him, even though there wasn't a reason to.

"Of course I did, it's your birthday, I want to see you happy." Harry shrugged, his cheeks flushing as if he'd been out in the sun for hours on end. He was so cute, Ginny wished she didn't like him so much, because that way, when their imminent separation came, it wouldn't hurt so much. ''How is your day? I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I think your mom made your favorite cake.''

"It's okay, as far as possible," she shrugged. "Mom is trying to keep me away from the kitchen and all the preparation, so I decided to stay in the bedroom."

''Are you going to be here until party time?'' She thought Harry would start the same speech Hermione gave her when she said she was going to do it, which was the same as Bill and his father: Fred wouldn't like it. Besides, you need to celebrate that you're alive, enjoy life…

Ginny was ready to fight with him, just as she had with the three of them.

"Is there a problem?" Ginny crossed her arms, careful not to crush the flowers.

Harry was bigger than her, but that wouldn't stop her from kicking him out if necessary.

''No. Want company?" Harry looked sincere though. "We can assemble that puzzle you bought, remember?"

''Do you want to stay here? Assembling a puzzle?' Ginny followed Harry as he walked around her room as if the surroundings had been familiar to him for years already, looking for the box on her shelves, which was a total mess of old books, photos and other stuff.

"Of course, it's your day, we'll do whatever you want, ma'am."

August 11, 2021

''How did you know you loved him? Because he wants to assemble a puzzle with you?" Albus asked, no longer paying attention to the TV.

''No and yes. See, unlike everyone else that day, your dad respected my grief. He didn't try to make me go outside, see the bright side of things, nothing. He just stayed there with me, accepting that on that day, I wanted to stay inside my room, putting together a puzzle… He paid attention to the flowers I liked, in the cake." Ginny smiled. "That dawn, after everyone else went to sleep, I finally managed to cry, and son, it's a pain I can't put into words." She swallowed, not wanting to get emotional. ''Over time it gets a little easier, but that year, it was a pain that seemed to tear my chest apart. And do you know what your dad did? He sat with me, hugged me, and listened to me cry for an hour, not saying anything, just standing there by my side.''

The memory was no longer as painful as it had been, and Ginny allowed herself to smile as the image of Harry lying beside her on the bed, his arms around her waist, came back to her mind.

"He never tried to save me, he just stayed there with me, helping me when I needed it, and that was the most important thing."

"He saved you in the chamber," Albus remembered, a mischievous smile on his lips that reminded her of Fred when he was younger. Ginny didn't even know it was possible, but it was always the image that came to her mind when she saw Albus smile like that.

"It was a different situation." She shrugged.

"Did you doubt you would marry him after that day?"

"Never again." And it was true. ''Since that morning, when I woke up and he was still sleeping with me after I cried and sobbed things I don't even remember anymore, I knew he was the one I would marry.'' Ginny touched the ring that was already on her finger for over twenty years now, still smiling like a fool as she remembers the marriage proposal and the marriage itself.

"And why weren't you sure you'd be with him before that?"

''It's not that I wasn't sure, it's just that when you go through something really bad, everything around you seems to fall apart together, it's like nothing else has a solution and you are bound to fail whatever you try. It's a horrible feeling, I hope you never feel that.'' Ginny shifted on the couch to give him a closer look. ''Why this now?''

"Just curiosity." Albus smiled, his cheeks a little flushed. "Happy birthday again, Mom, I love you so much." He kissed her forehead, as she usually did.

''I love you too, my love.''

[satanwithboobs]

the necklace | mammon x gn!mc fluff

a/n: titles are hard, don’t judge me. this is very much based on a previous post of mine (find here!) I couldn’t resist, and I regret nothing.

genre: fluffy. soooooooo fluffy. don’t forget to brush your teeth after this, your teeth will rot for sure. or mayhaps they won’t, and this sucks. I make no promises on quality here ❤️

— • —

“Oi!” You felt your lips curl into a smile when you heard your boyfriend enter the room, boisterous as ever. “Why’s this human wearin’ a gold coin?!”

He practically shoved the device in your face, expression somewhere between dumbfounded and curious. With maybe just a hint of anger thrown in, for whatever reason.

You observed the picture, some random social media post of someone showing off their extravagant lifestyle (go figure). Maybe getting your greedy boyfriend a human phone as a gift had been a bad idea. Then again, he’d basically demanded it with how many times he ‘dropped hints.’

You shrugged. “It’s a bit odd, but I guess humans sometimes set valuable coins into jewelry?”

Mammon huffed, flopping himself next to you on the couch. “Feels like a waste ‘ta me,” he grumbled, starting to scroll through his phone again.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that left you at that, moving closer to him as he let out a few more mumbled comments.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said, moving Mammon’s arm so you could snuggle in tighter. “I kind of like the idea myself.”

Mammon’s response was as predictable as it was adorable.

His brow furrowed for a brief moment before a bright smile spread across his face. That is, until he remembered he was being watched.

“Ahem,” he said, a furious blush suddenly finding itself on his face. “Well, I, uh — what you think about human jewelry doesn’t matter ‘ta me! So I.. uh.. don’t know why ya said that...”

You resisted the overwhelming urge to roll your eyes, instead leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Sure it doesn’t.”

— • —

It took a good month for his idea to come to fruition, the greedy demon putting his plan into action while the two of you were out at a park.

“I, uh, got ya somethin’...” he said, and you turned toward him, your arm leaning against some railing as you watched him fish something out of his pocket.

The dim light from a streetlamp sparkled off the object he produced, which looked like..

“It’s a, uh..” he fiddled with the necklace in his hands, a delicate chain slipping between his fingers as he held onto a solid pendant. “It’s one a’ those coin necklaces ya said ya liked...”

He stopped messing with the pendant and held it out to you, blushing.

Settled at the end of a gold chain was what looked like a single grimm, though you’d never seen one that looked so nice.

A soft smile spread across your face as you took the necklace in your hands, the sparkle from the pendant looking positively dull compared to what you saw in Mammon’s eyes at your response.

“Do ya like it?” He asked, hesitantly. Your smile broadened.

“I love it,” you said, and his expression soon mirrored your own when you stepped closer to him, placing a soft kiss on his lips before pulling back.

“Really?” He asked, before catching himself, “I mean, of course ya do! The Great Ma—!”

You cut him off by going in to kiss him again. “The Great Mammon gives the best gifts,” you said, pulling away and cupping his cheek.

There was a pause as the demon looked down to think of what to say next.

“I figured it could be a reminder a’ sorts...” he said, his lithe fingers regarding the necklace in your hands delicately, “‘cause.. I’m the Avatar of Greed, and.. uh.. even when yer’ up in the human world, you can always know..”

He fumbled with his words for a moment before dropping the necklace and taking your face in his hands, his expression as serious as you’d ever seen it.

This time, it was your turn to blush.

“You can wear it an’ always know I’m there,” he said, pulling you in for a kiss that took your breath away.

Literally, because he nearly forgot you were human and needed to breathe in order to survive. A quick couple of taps on his shoulder and he pulled back, an apologetic look on his face when he saw you gasping for air.

“Well, that’s one way to be breathtaking...” you said, throwing your arms around his neck when he looked away. You paused, an idea coming to your mind. “You just want other people to know I belong to you, don’t you?”

It was a tease - one you knew was partially true, of course - but you knew his previous confession was sincere.

He didn’t even try to deny it.

“Well — what else am I sposed’ to do?! Yer a catch... I can’t have.. other demons..” — so, his brothers, basically —“hangin’ all over ya without knowin’...”

“I’m pretty sure you remind them enough already,” you offer, not being able to resist the urge to tease him just a little bit more. “Not that I mind.”

With that, you unclasp the necklace and offer Mammon to put it on for you. The look on his face when he actually saw it on you? Unforgettable.

“I love you,” he said, the adoration laced in his voice matching that in his eyes.

“More than Goldie?” You say, slyly.

At that, Mammon growled, flicking you on the forehead before you could react.

Exactly the response you expected.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Let's Call It Funny

Prompt: Hi! If you know about those gen z peter parker posts, could your write something based on that? With Steve Getting It (tm) because fatalistic nihilism in humor tended to show up during the world wars and we’re seeing a reflection of that now? Sorry- I just think it’d make great options for steve and peter bonding, and dad!tony but actual emotions (gasp!) You can totally ignore this if you want!

Don't ever apologize for giving me such a great ask

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: uhhh gen z humor

Pairings: none! all found family in this bitch

Word Count: 2529

Here’s the thing about humor. It’s not necessarily that one generation is any funnier than another, it’s just that high school kids are perpetually the funniest people alive. Something about being in a pressure cooker of an environment with a bunch of other people whose bodies are changing in new unpredictable ways whilst having very little say in how their lives go creates humor. Gasp of shock, right?

So basically what Peter’s trying to say is that he’s fucking hilarious.

Come on, not only does he have the default high schooler stuff, he’s also gay, which gives him an instant bonus. He’s trans, which opens up a whole new subset of humor for him to explore. He’s neurodivergent as fuck, and we all know that makes people funny as hell. And if that weren’t enough, he’s severely traumatized and he’s Spider-Man.

Peter Parker is funny as hell.

What is truly devastating—and really, it’s their loss—is that so few people seem to appreciate it.

Ned gets it. Ned’s not someone Peter would expect to not get it, just because hey, it’s Ned. They’ve met each other in the hallways and been like ‘hey! You’re still alive! Congrats on having a body!’ Only for the other one to go ‘hey! You’re alive too! I wish I had an intangible form!’

Because bodies are stupid and evolution really fucked us over but at least we’re not horses.

A solid 50% of their interactions are just quoting John Mulaney and Bo Burnham bits back and forth at each other. Peter’s never gonna forget the day they both had detention and had to watch that stupid Cap PSA—it’s propaganda, you Nazi fuckwits—and something reminded them of the ‘horse loose in a hospital’ bit and they just did it. Full out. Stood up and did the actions and everything. The rest of the room was either trying to do it with them—and failing, because they didn’t have nearly enough practice—or looking so confused. The security guard—Paul, he’s great—just looked at them blearily after they finished and went:

“I mean, you kids are right, but you’re not supposed to talk in detention.”

Well, excuse them for trying to make it more entertaining for everyone.

MJ gets it. If Peter’s being honest, he learned most of his humor from her. She is the master and it is an honor to study in her wake. He’s definitely hijacked the asking whether or not anything’s actually meaningful existentialism jokes and they’ve wormed their way into his day-to-day repertoire.

“Why are you late, Mr. Parker?”

“Time is a social construct, Mrs. B, none of us are ever late or early except in the subjective spacetime paths. The limits of our sensory perception make it so we can’t tell if anything is real, let alone whether or not they conform to some arbitrary definition of ‘time.’”

“…just sit down, Peter.”

See? It works.

Aunt May gets…worried.

Sure, they’ve actually talked about when Peter needs help and wants to reach out and when he’s just making jokes off the cuff because hey, humor’s a great coping mechanism or it’s just a joke and not that serious. Peter loves his Aunt May, so so so much, and the last thing he wants to do is really worry her. And she’s gotten pretty good at figuring out when he’s just joking and when he’s spiraling.

Sometimes, though…

“Peter,” Aunt May calls from the kitchen, “did you remember to stop by the store on your way home?”

Peter freezes halfway through the door.

“Peter?”

He swallows. “…no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am too stressed and consumed by the swirling pit of blackness deep in my soul to remember my head is connected to my body, let alone remember to go to the store.”

Silence.

“…Aunt May?”

“Do you want to drop off your stuff and then go to the store?”

“…yeah, please.”

“Love you, Pete.”

“Love you!”

“Try to remember that you’ve got arms so you can pick stuff up.”

“Got it!”

See? It’s fine.

The Avengers don’t get it. Like, at all.

Natasha and Clint like, sorta get it? They make the same jokes all the time when they think Peter can’t hear them, which—come on, you guys are super spies, surely you know people are gonna hear you when they’re gonna hear you. Natasha will make a crack about something, Clint will laugh and shove her shoulder. It’s their dynamic, we get it. But when Peter does it…

“Hey, Baby Spider?”

Peter sticks his head up from the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“Where’re you crawling off to?”

“I’m gonna go hide in the garage.”

Natasha blinks up at him. “Why?”

“Because if I get crushed by the airlock doors then I won’t have to do my paper tomorrow.”

Silence. Natasha’s mask is too good for Peter to actually see what’s going on with her, let alone from this angle, but silence isn’t good.

“Nat—oof!”

Something blurs out of the vent nearby and tackles him down onto the couch.

“Clint!”

“Nope,” Clint mutters, wrapping Peter up in a hug as Natasha comes to join them. “You’re staying with us now, Pete.”

“Guys, I’m fine.”

“Peter,” Natasha says softly, “don’t joke about that, you’ll make us worry.”

“I don’t wanna do that,” Peter mumbles, “but it’s fine.”

“Coping mechanism, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s got too many brain cells to do that,” Clint says, ruffling Peter’s hair.

“Stark has a lot of brain cells, you see what good that does him?”

“Hmm. Guess you’re gonna have to stay awhile, Pete.”

There are worse fates. Definitely.

Thor just kind of gets confused by it. He acts like Peter isn’t going to be absolutely fine because there’s no need to do anything like that. No, Peter, you don’t have to put the bleach in first into your cereal, there’s plenty of milk left over. No, Peter, you don’t have to throw yourself off the roof because your laptop is freezing, Stark has so many just lying around. No, Peter, you don’t have to pack a rucksack and run away to the Alps and live like a recluse, come here and get a hug.

Peter suspects Thor’s playing dumb on purpose. The man is smart as hell, there’s no way all of this is flying over his head. And honestly, it warms his heart a little bit when he sees Thor’s sincere, concerned look when he thinks Peter’s not looking.

Banner and Rhodey just kinda shake their heads and move on. They’re used to it. They live and work with some of the most dramatic fucking people in the goddamn universe, they’re used to a little bit of extra humor. Occasionally one of them will give him a look that says he’s pushing his luck, but that’s not often. Less often now ‘cause he knows what he can get away with. He’s also seen them hiding smiles behind their hands or poorly disguised coughs. They’re not as slick as they think they are.

Tony.

Tony is the fucking worst.

Peter can’t get away with so much as sighing too hard before Iron Dad™ is swooping in all soft words and concerned touches. Jesus. You’d think he’d get it, he uses humor as a coping mechanism too, goddamnit, why is he so worried about Peter?

Okay, fine, he knows why.

MJ’s over at the Tower, having another one of her ‘sketch people in crisis’ appointments with Natasha. Peter is coming off of a 32-hour caffeine rush and is violently wishing for death. Tony is in the kitchen doing…something.

“Hey, do you think bleach would make a good smoothie?”

Tony wheels around to see MJ pulling a glass out of the cupboard.

“Kid—“

“Sounds like a filling breakfast,” Peter groans, “can you make me one too?”

“…I’m legitimately concerned,” comes Tony’s mutter.

MJ ignores him. “Who’s the bitch on your forehead?”

Peter rubs absentmindedly at the massive knot on his head, courtesy of a wall that rudely decided to move at the last second while Peter was attempting to walk through a doorway. “He’s called DJ Braindeath and he’s my only friend in the world.”

“Peter—“

“Oh did you meet him at the furry convention?"

“Technically it’d be a buggie convention.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

“The pantry doesn’t have good coffee, I’m going to Starbucks.” MJ grabs her bag. “You want anything?”

“A will to live?”

“Peter, what the fuck—“

“Oof, I’ve only got like…20 bucks.”

Peter lets his head drop back to the counter. “Then just leave me here to die.”

“Can I have champagne at your funeral?”

“I’ll be dead, I won’t fucking care.”

“God, I wish that were me.”

Then MJ’s gone and Peter gets treated to a 20-minute conversation with a very concerned Tony Stark that he doesn’t remember most of because hey caffeine crashes aren’t fun.

He definitely does it on purpose sometimes just to wind Tony up. Like there’s this one incident with an interview he does as Spider-Man and he gets asked what he thinks about Tony Stark’s newest intern, Peter Parker.

“That boy’s an embarrassment, just…complete failure. Can’t speak without stuttering through every other word and self-esteem issues all over the place. Also looks like he got dressed in the dark.”

The reporter had awkwardly moved on to another question. The interview aired later that day while Peter was at the Tower. Tony sat next to him on the couch about halfway through.

“You look good, Pete.”

Peter had mumbled halfheartedly, only to hear the reporter ask the same question.

“See, that’s the problem with having a secret identity, you don’t…” Tony trailed off as he heard the answer.

Peter snorted as Spider-Man finished talking. “Say that to my face, you bitch, get a real job. At least I don’t look like someone vomited silly string all over my spandex.”

“Are you okay?”

See? Fun.

The only one he’s made a conscious effort to not be this funny around is Steve.

Because, okay, here’s the thing. Steve’s disappointed look has no effect on him anymore. He’s immune, motherfuckers, he’s had detention too many times for it to still work. Here’s the other thing: Steve doesn’t actually use that tone of voice that often. It’s this meticulously crafted image he plays up in interviews because it catches all the bad guys so off guard when Captain America is suddenly swearing a blue streak at them and telling them to go fuck themselves in, honestly, quite creative ways. The sincere Steve Rogers disappointment and concern still very much works. Also doesn’t help that Steve does caring so fucking well, like…who gave him the right to say a few things and hold Peter like he’s something precious and do the quick one-two punch of saying a super sincere compliment and following it up with ‘I love you.’ Who did that? It’s rude. Stop it.

And yeah, Steve’s the resident Mom at the Ready. It’s a risk to even sit on your bed looking sad ‘cause here he comes, wearing something snuggly and saying ‘hey’ in that stupid, stupid compassionate voice. So Peter knows he’s just gonna end up crying from too much soft if Steve actually gets concerned. Which won’t be fair because he’s gonna try and explain that he’s fine and it’s just his sense of humor while crying. Yeah, like that’s gonna be believable.

So he’s trying not to but damnit it’s hard.

Then he walks into the kitchen one day to see Steve struggling with the toaster.

It’s one of Tony’s new prototypes—which means that anyone struggling with it is so fair—and from the looks of it, it’s managed to not only burn the bread to a crisp, but also mangle the slices beyond recognizable shape.

Peter’s not paying that much attention. He’s on his phone, heading towards his spot in the corner with the beanbag chairs and definitely doesn’t recognize Steve as he goes.

He only plops down and hears someone declare, in a completely deadpan voice: “There is no point to existing at all.”

“Oh, mood.”

He doesn’t think much of it. He doesn’t even know who said that, that’s how hyper-focused he is right now. He hears the others come in and feels Clint plonk down next to him.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Sah, dude.”

“Just vibing. Did I do it right?”

“Yeah, man you’re going great.”

“You teach Thor ‘yeet’ yet?”

“We’re getting there.”

“Steve,” he hears Tony call from the kitchen, “what the fuck did you do?”

“Language.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me about language when you’re making toast that looks like a goddamn welder’s table, what is that?”

“Your prototype’s work, I imagine.”

“How did you even—“

Clint chuckles next to him as the two of them start fondly bickering. Peter’s too busy speedrunning the five stages of grief in his head.

Did…did Steve say the thing about there being no point to existence at all?

No…no way.

He must be imagining things.

Then, of course, there’s a chime on his phone.

Ned: Did u do the bio hw?

There was bio homework?

Ned: yeah, due at noon

“I now know why God abandoned this timeline and when will death come to take me?”

The room goes silent.

Shit.

“Peter,” Clint says, “it’s gonna be fine, you can do bio homework in your sleep—“

“Are you okay?” Ah, that’s Thor.

“Kid—“

And Nat, and Tony’s probably rushing over here as he speaks.

Then there’s another voice.

“We can only pray the reaper arrives early for his appointment with us, kid.”

Peter’s head snaps up.

Steve.

Steve fucking Rogers raises a coffee cup at him in salute and takes a sip. He makes a face.

“…that was definitely salt,” he mutters, before shrugging and downing the whole thing.

…what?

Peter’s still staring at him until he catches his gaze and winks.

Oh, fuck yes.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony says, hands on his hips, “explain.”

Steve just gives him a look. “I grew up in the Great Depression, Tony, and I was in the army. You don’t think I have a fatalistic sense of humor?”

“Plus the fact that most of my generation is resorting to types of humor found when death and stress are so ever-present that you have to joke about it says something,” Peter adds, “doesn’t it?”

Steve raises his cup again. “See? He gets it.”

And just like that, the bond between Peter Parker and Steve Rogers was written, formed, and sealed in salt and existentialist depression.

“There’s two of you,” Tony mumbles, “oh my god, there’s two of you.”

“Oh, you just wait ’til Buck and Sam get back.”

Peter can’t fucking wait.

[allygodot]

Taking Accountability

My name is Adam, but people online call me Coffee. I’m a 27 years old graduate of Chicago Law School living in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I am a heterosexual Christian, but am an ally to the LGBT community. My main interests are Ace Attorney, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. These are all things my followers should know about me, so why am I telling you this? Well... what if I told you it was all a lie? I’m sure this is coming as a shock to a lot of you, and I sincerely apologize to everyone I’ve hurt with my deception. It is my hope that this post will clear up any misconceptions that have been spread about me, whether I spread them myself or otherwise, and that in the future there will be no animosity between us. I don’t expect to be forgiven nor do I deserve it, but if there is one thing I learned from my time in the church it is that all I can do is ask for mercy and hope for the best. But first... I think an explanation is in order. If all that isn’t the truth, then what is? It all starts in college, that nebulous period of my life that everyone keeps asking about and I keep bringing up. Before I went to university, I had always been completely unremarkable. I had always had the kind of fair weather friends who enjoyed my company, but never felt to invested in me. Combined with my status as a middle child, I always felt like I had something to prove to get people to like me. I would say and think whatever I needed to for them to stick around another day, and I’m sure you are familiar with what that means for teenage boys. I acted immaturely because it was what was expected... and anything outside of that was looked down upon it even forbidden. I never thought much of it at the time, but I realize now that I wasn’t allowed much self-expression when I was always trying to conform to their standards. Everything changed when I met him. My assigned college roommate, Anton, was everything my years of conditioning had taught me to distrust. Despite his tall stature, he was emotional and sensitive... even vulnerable. Even so, he wasn’t afraid to be unabashedly himself. The first thing that struck me as unusual about him was his clothing... he almost always wore pastel pink or yellow and I hardly ever saw him without his long, checkered scarf. His nails were always painted with a clear, glittery polish, and I don’t think he ever skipped a shower in his life. His hair was always soft and smelled like strawberry even at a distance... all this to say he immediately struck me as fruity so I wanted nothing to do with him, at least initially. Despite his kindness to me, I would always respond with either the cold shoulder or open scorn, which only amplified the more I learned about him. I discovered pretty quickly that he was a furry, since one day I came home from a day of classes to find a decapitated pink cat head on our couch. He patiently explained the whole culture to me while I glared at him skeptically, but he didn’t seem bothered at all. He even brought out his paws and tail and told me he was saving up for a full suit despite my open disgust. Looking back, I still have no clue why he put up with me during that time. Another curious aspect of Anton’s life was his addiction to a certain television series called “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.” His room was filled with merchandise from stuffed animals to figurines, and I had nothing but disdain for the tacky and embarrassing decoration. I was afraid that if I ever brought a girl over to our apartment she would notice and make all sorts of incorrect assumptions... I couldn’t handle the embarrassment. I tried on multiple occasions to convince him to hide them in a secret box or something, but he always just smiled and shook his head. I even tried to sneak into his room and collect all the ponies for donation once, but he had anticipated this and hid a playful trap for me... I reached forward to grab one of his overpriced statues and immediately got a face full of multi-colored snakes. I was livid of course, despite it being my own fault for trying to pawn of his collection in the first place, but he wasn’t even phased by my tirade. I suppose he was 6’5” and I was (and still am) only 5′7″... but still, I had at least expected him to be somewhat apologetic if not fearful. Instead, he just laughed and told me I should watch the show with him sometime. I obviously had no intentions of taking him up on his ludicrous offer... until he promised that if I didn’t enjoy the show, he would move all of his ponies into a case that he would throw a big curtain on whenever I said the word. I reluctantly agreed on those conditions, positive that this was a bet I couldn’t lose. I still remember that night like it was yesterday. He lead me into the pony chamber and sat down on his bed, taking out his laptop to pull up his favorite episode. It was “The Canterlot Wedding” two part season finale, and although I initially protested that I only agreed to watch one episode, I eventually relented once he reminded me what the prize was. I was hesitant to sit beside him on his bed and lean over his shoulder to look at the small screen, but he assured me that it didn’t bother him at all. I wasn’t particularly concerned with how he felt about it... it was more so my own pride I was worried about. Nevertheless, I sat through the whole episode with him despite myself. Although I was disturbed by the tendency for his long and curly hair to gravitate into my mouth while I rested my cheek against his shoulder, I found the episode to be surprisingly enjoyable. The song in particular surprised me with it’s musicality... by the end of it I didn’t want to leave, but I was far too embarrassed to admit that to him earnestly. I told him I was interested in the show purely for the songs and that it could benefit my studies as a music major, but that he still had to uphold his end of the bargain since I was by no means enjoying it. He just smiled and put on another episode, and before I knew it the sun was rising outside his window. I realized just how tired I was and turned to tell him I would be going to bed only to discover he had fallen asleep. I began to suspect that he must have been asleep for several hours, letting the auto-play functionality do his job for him while he rested up for his exams. Although I was scandalized, I was impressed by his tactical prowess... he had managed to trap me in his room, since I couldn’t move from my spot without disturbing his slumber, and he didn’t even have to be awake to do it. Begrudgingly, I spent the rest of his room, until eventually the faint aroma of strawberries lured me into the world of dreams... This arrangement continued for quite some time. When I got home from my classes, Anton would ask me if I wanted to watch some My Little Pony with him and I only agreed so long as he put the curtain over the cabinet next time I asked. He always obliged whenever I asked him to conceal his collection, but eventually I stopped asking for him to do so and only reminded him not to break our contract before every episode out of habit. It became a ritual for the two of us to do this every night, and even once we had finished all of the episodes we would just watch them again. I found that I was becoming endeared to this eccentric man... and as much as I tried to resist it, I couldn’t help but feel my heart swell a bit in my chest whenever he would run his fingers through his hair or tighten his scarf around his neck. I told myself it was nothing... but it wouldn’t remain that way for long. I don’t know what possessed me, but one night I thought I would get to know Anton a little better. I started by asking if he was single, which to me seemed like an innocuous question, but the very fact I was asking seemed to amuse him. He told me that he was having trouble finding a guy who wasn’t immediately turned off by all the ponies, and I made sure to snidely comment that he shouldn’t be going out with guys anyway even though it made my heart skip a beat when he said that, as well as mention that if he would just give up his collection there wouldn’t be an issue in the first place. I don’t know what I was expecting, but he asked me the same thing: how was my love life going, especially considering my new hobby? I couldn’t help but get flustered and start making excuses. I told him that there was no shortage of girls lined up to date me, but that I just wasn’t ready to make a commitment yet. I spun a whole story about how a girlfriend would only hold me back... I almost forgot that the standard that Anton accepted was completely different from my old teenage friends. He wasn’t impressed that girls were apparently lining up to get a piece of me... he just seemed amused that I thought such a thing was realistic, much less desirable. He didn’t understand that compulsive need to lie at all... he thought it would be better if more guys admitted that they were vulnerable. That was the first time I’d ever heard someone say something like that... I suddenly felt extremely exposed, and before I knew it my eyes were full of tears. My first instinct was to cover my face with my sleeve and hide my shame, but he was already firmly gripping my arm and holding it in place. He told me that I didn’t need to hide anything from him. He asked me if there was anything he could do to help me... and so for what felt like the first time in my life, I told the truth. It was supposed to be just to try it. I wasn’t expecting to actually enjoy it, I just thought that if I got it out of my system all of the unnecessary feelings would finally stop tormenting me... but all they did was grow stronger. I kept telling him that I was still looking for a girlfriend and that once I got one this whole arrangement would end, but eventually I realized that there was no point in lying to myself anymore. I wasn’t ever even sleeping in my own room anymore. I hadn’t so much as glanced at any dating websites in weeks. I was committed, whether I wanted to admit it or not... and I didn’t want to admit it. I only wish that I had told him how I really felt when I had the chance... One of the many things we started to share, which seemed the most inconsequential to me at the time, was a webpage. Anton was the owner of a small subreddit dedicated to My Little Pony fursuits, and he asked me if I would be willing to help him moderate. It wasn’t something I felt qualified to speak as an authority on, since even as I became more open about my love for ponies I still didn’t really feel connected to furry culture despite accompanying him to several conventions, but I was willing to do basically anything just to please him. My job was mostly to stop people from publicly “yiffing,” and although it was a grueling line of work it wasn’t thankless. Anton was a poet with words of affirmation. Many of the compliments he paid me were certainly undeserved, but they motivated me more than anything else ever had... but I got too zealous. There was a certain user on the server who for the sake of protecting privacy, we shall call XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX. As a member of the subreddit they were of course a brony and a furry, but what made them stand out was their dedication to the Flutterdash ship. They were constantly posting couple’s cosplays of themselves dressed as Rainbow Dash, but the Fluttershy in each picture was always different. They were also exceptionally sociable and aggressively tried to make friends with everyone on the tiny subreddit... Anton and I included. I wasn’t so keen on pursuing another friendship that could very well ruin my reputation, but of course Anton was immediately taken with the idea. The two of them exchanged contacts and hit it off instantly, and I started having trouble sleeping at night because he was awake in the early hours of the morning texting his friend in another timezone. He always paid me just as much attention as always during the daytime, but once he saw that his new friend was online he would crawl out of bed to go converse with them in another room. He was trying so hard to be considerate of me, and perhaps it was selfish for me to expect that I would always be able to sense his warmth and scent beside me while I slept... but at the time I was blinded by jealousy. One fateful morning, he excitedly woke me up to tell me that XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX had gifted him tickets to a major convention, and that the two of them were planning to cosplay Flutterdash together. He apologetically explained that he would be gone for a few days since the convention was halfway across the country, but sensing the disturbance within me he assured me that he could probably convince his friend to let me tag along as Applejack... she was always my least favorite. It didn’t matter what Anton said to encourage me, because I was never going to accept any consolation until this threat to our sacred relationship was eliminated. I had to find a way to get rid of XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX by any means necessary... In a fit of rage, I whipped out the ban hammer and beat my rival to death with it, metaphorically speaking. It was a blatant abuse of my privilege as a moderator and I am ashamed to admit it now... but at the time all that mattered was covering up the evidence. I knew I had to come up with an excuse for why I had banned them, so I added a new rule to the subreddit: Flutterdash was prohibited. The news was not met with acceptance from the other members of the community. To some more in the loop with the situation, it was obvious that I had only banned XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX because of a petty personal dispute, but others saw it as nothing but an unfair rule. I was accused of being biased towards other ships like Flutterchord or Appledash and that I needed to accept other people’s ship preferences, or even that I was homophobic and couldn’t handle the thought of lesbian characters in my favorite show. Chants of “mods are gay” could be heard across the subreddit from all sides of the debate, and everyone was rallying for Anton to remove me as a tyrannical moderator. Sound familiar? I can’t help but notice some similarities between my situation and Mo the one over at Kristahlia Week... maybe that is why the drama captivated me so.  Anton tried to reason with me, bless his heart, but at this point I had completely devolved back into my screaming teenager mentality to cope with all the rejection. He was obviously disappointed in me for what I had done but he had no reason to believe it would ruin us... he couldn’t have handled it better. It really was my fault that things happened the way they did, but I refused to take accountability. What I told him still haunts my conscience to this day, even six years later. I told him that I never loved him, and that I was only using his companionship to fulfill my carnal desires. I told him that I didn’t care about what he did with his life as long as he didn’t do anything that kept him away from me. I even told him that I still thought he was disgusting and embarrassing. And the worst thing is... in that moment I meant every word. I was so selfish... I genuinely forgot that I loved him and treated him like he only existed to serve me. My actions were truly despicable and I deserved to suffer for it... and I did. For the first time, I saw Anton cry. I should have been there to comfort him like he did for me on that fateful night, but instead I let him run out of the house to go suffer by himself. By the time I realized how horrible I was acting, it was too late. He had disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. I came home the next day to discover all the ponies in the apartment finally gone... isn’t that what I had wanted? My moderator status on the subreddit had been stripped away, and I had been banned by all of the members of the group on nearly every social media platform. Another classmate later informed me that Anton had transferred to a different college... and that was the end. I have no idea what happened to him after that, but I can only hope he is doing well. Instead of taking this as an omen that I should improve my behavior, I began to become even more bitter than I was before I met Anton. I acted like my relationship with him was just an experimental phase that was doomed to fail from the start, and soon I was denying that it ever even happened at all. I convinced myself that the problem in our relationship was that I wasn’t supposed to be with men, and so I began to insist that I was straight and aggressively seek out relationships with women just to prove it to myself. I also started searching for strict moral codes that could give direction to my life... which is when I found the Church. I was attracted to their beliefs because they gave a very clear outline for how someone’s life should go and promised ultimate happiness to anyone who could fulfill the requirements, so I began to obsess over meeting those requirements. I wanted a Christian wife that could bear me many children not because that is how I wanted to live my life, but because that is how other people wanted me to live my life... and all I wanted was for others to tell me I was doing something right. The congregation was distrusting if me at first, and although they never said it to my face I know it was because they were aware of my past. Hardly a woman would come near me, and looking back on it I can’t say I blame them. The ones who were desperate enough for a husband to give me a shot were quirky repulsed by my egotistical behavior, which certainly didn’t help my reputation. Throughout all this, I still somehow told myself I was the victim because I didn’t want to admit that I had become the villain again. For a long time, the only person in the parish who would willingly hold a conversation with me was Lana. She was a fellow member of the choir and a devout believer in God, but she was often judged by the rest of the congregation for being an open lesbian despite her faith. She tried to convince me on several occasions that I didn’t have to perform any sort of identity to impress anyone and that I should “just be myself,” but I insisted that I knew what I was talking about. Eventually, she decided my well-being wasn’t her responsibility and gave up on trying to reason with me, but nonetheless she still treated me more kindly then many of the other churchgoers. I believe that my “dark past” is what drew Gabriella to me in the first place. She likely hoped that we could act as covers for each other until she figured some way out of her situation, but unfortunately I was too far gone to be of any help. I convinced myself that she was really in love with me and that she would be walking down the aisle soon enough. Whether or not I was really interested in her or just interested in what she represented I’m still not sure... but she truly was a wonderful person who didn’t deserve to have to suffer through my baggage. When she left me I was truly devastated... so much so that I even began to go through another crisis of belief that I recorded on this very blog. All I have to add is that I no longer bear any resentment towards Lana or Gabriella, and only wish them the best of luck. My relationship with Krissy began almost immediately after my breakup with Gabriella. I was desperate to regain the status I supposed that I had lost along with my girlfriend, so I latched onto the first woman who showed me any sort of positive attention. Her death and my downward spiral are all well-documented on this blog. I didn’t want to blame myself for her passing as well, so I developed a conspiracy to rationalize the whole ordeal. I even tried to act like a completely different person to try to keep the blame as mentally distant from myself as possible, but that didn’t work either. In the end, this is my cross to bear alone. So that brings us to now. What will become of allygodot? The truth is, I don’t know and quite frankly I don’t think that is the most important thing right now. I realized last night when I was looking at that art of Diego and Godot as Happy Tree Friends characters that I desperately wanted to be anyone other than myself... it really opened my eyes to the level of repression that had been burdening me since the incident six years ago. I realized that if I wanted to change, sitting around and thinking about how things could hypothetically be different isn’t going to do anything. If I want to make progress and truly become a better person, I’m going to have to act better, not just tell myself that I am. From now on, I will be defining myself on my actions and not my beliefs, as wise man once said. I hope that soon, I will have become a good enough person to meet Anton face to face again... I still love him after all these years, and even though I expect that he justifiably won’t want anything to do with me anymore, I still think that it is a guilt that needs to be resolved. If I ever come back to this blog, it’ll be as a different Adam to the one you thought that you knew. It’ll be as the Adam I’m trying to become... the true Adam that I know exists deep within me... Not allygodot, but as proudgodot. My name is Adam, but people online call me Coffee or Godot. I’m a 27 years old former music student living in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I am bisexual. My main interests are Ace Attorney, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

[yeocult]

ATEEZ as students studying

HONGJOONG:

king of self-care! but studies for 15 minutes then take a 2 hour break and calls it self-care (omg he thinks he’s me or smth)

has power naps every single day at least 30 mins because he’s Stressed

always thinking of ways to drop out during the middle of lectures

that one kid that talks to nobody & sits at the back of the class with his hood on to hide his airpods

doesn’t do it anymore bc one time it disconnected and “there’s some whores in this house” blasted out loud & now he’s paranoid

shows up to group studies but lets the group carry him,,, but he puts out One Really good idea to get his name on the paper

only cares about topics he’s interested in, other than that he’s just astral projecting

“yo can you send me your answers so i can compare mine?” but he copies it and says “we got the same answers” (all men do is lie</3)

calculates his marks; “ok so i need at least a 80 on this...oh wait no, a 95...damn okay...”

the type to arrives late with ice coffee

SEONGHWA:

wakes up at 5 am to study instead of staying up

scented candles and lofi music for the ~studying mood~

a linguistic learner

learns best by teaching others so he’ll do group studies often to help other people

teaches people without making them feel dumb

uses grammarly for his emails with 3 paragraphs asking 1 question with a proper greeting and a ‘sincerely, park seonghwa’

professor: ok - sent from iphone

you’ll never see him during exams week, he’s Gone

a loyal user of the outline method

his desk must be cleared at all times! a clean workspace makes it easier to focus

brings extra pencil just in case anyone needs them bc he’s the sweetest person ever (he’s fully aware that he’ll never get them back but it’s okay bc sharing is caring)

does his readings on time (you’ll never catch him slacking)

actually has his shit together for the most part 1/2

YUNHO:

writes “i love you” or “sorry” at the end of his tests (that he bombed)

the type to ask you to print “just one thing real quick” and it’s 15 page and at 2 am

uses emojis like :D & \(^o^)/ when sending emails to his professors

has a bad habit of copying word for word on the slide and he doesn’t actually understand/learn anything

goes to the library bc he thinks that’ll help him be in the ~studying vibe~

it doesn’t. ends up texting or watching youtube gameplay

has never heard of the colour-coding system in his entire life and ends up with a page filled with neon highlight

snacks breaks are the only thing keeping him Normal

leaves himself an encouraging note at the end of the reading page so when he’s finished he feels good !!

friends with all of the professors and uses all office hours

strongest points are his guessing skills in multiple-choice questions (process of elimination ftw!)

he tries his best, doesn’t care about marks that much because he knows it doesn’t determine him (and he’s right!)

YEOSANG:

probably runs a studyblr/gram

has the cutest note ever, his handwriting is so pretty!!

he thinks that buying an ipad pro & apple pencil will make him smarter

likes it bc he can doodle on it then erase them easily :”)

has to wear blue ray glasses because of how he looks at a screen so much

mildliners, muji 0.38 gel pen, 6 ring binder, minimal planner, washi tapes, you name it! he visits muji and daiso every other week

buys wayyy too many planners and notebooks which he never ends up using

only uses pastel mildliners because they’re easy on the eyes. cringes every time he sees yunho’s highlighters v_v

his flaw is that he spends 10 mins writing his header with brush tip pens

mutes the group project gc but gets his part done like the good classmate he is

sweats every time he gets an assignment back, takes a whole ten minute to mentally prepare himself

a visual learner; makes mind maps, flow charts, etc

actually has a working printer that he uses pretty often to prints lessons before class just to be Extra prepare

tells everyone he slept well but his bullet journal habit tracker for sleep says otherwise (plz rest!!)

exclusively uses college ruled paper like the sane person he is

SAN:

uses wide-ruled paper (unfortunately not everyone is perfect</3)

starts off very positive, motivated, and organized

then everything goes downhill by the second week

will definitely set byeol on top of his keyboard, take a picture, and send it to his professor as an ‘excuse’ as why he needs an extension (it works)

can’t sit still for any longer than 30 mins, his legs are always bouncing or fidgeting with pen

flashcard king! spends a lot of time on them but it’s worth it

a utensil chewer (always willing to share his pencil but when ppl saw the bite marks they’re like No Thanks >_>)

can’t study well with groups or himself bc he’ll be distracted,,, so he needs one person that can ground him bc when they’re in the zone, he will too be on his x game mode

sends his assignment at 11:58 pm hoping his professor will take the Hint (plz don’t be afraid to ask for help u_u)

prefers listening to ghibli studio soundtracks but then he either gets emotional or sleepy

sometimes forget to mute his mic and we just hear him groaning in frustration

“haha sorry i just stubbed my toe...”

then mutes his mic and goes back to his mental breakdown

MINGI:

the only person that studies every single day just to get his brain used to the information and running

probably listens to anime op or edm music for that Energy Boost

everyone either hates or love him because...

1. loves him bc he always comes clutched with study guides (and willing to share if he likes you enough)

2. he’s good at everything even if he’s not paying attention/doing it last minute

just naturally good at retaining information and applying them

asks Big Brain question that even the professors are shook

sometimes he gets super into the topic and wants to know Everything

“i’ve never failed an exam in my life” and he’s right! big brain mingi

fetal flaw is that he forgets easily (hence why the last minute) and has to write on his palm as a reminder

clicks his pens All the time so he switched to pens with caps just to keep others from jumping him

takes naps 10 mins before classes

actually has his shit together for the post part 2/2

“if no one got me, i know khan academy and quizlet got me. can i get an amen”

WOOYOUNG:

y’all know that one mf that doesn’t have a pencil?

yea he’s been using the same one someone lend to him before a test and never returned it

it’s been two months and it’s still working well and they’re never going to get it back

a minimalist,,,, but in a bad way</3 bc he carries his stolen pencil and paper that he spilled his energy drink over and that’s about it

just throw loose papers in his bag and forgets about their existence

doesn’t do binders or notebooks, just crumbled up paper

sometimes carries a textbook just to show everyone that he’s got his life together

really noisy for No reason, always wants to know other’s marks

a kinesthetic learner

hides his screen with he gets the kahoot questions wrong (you’ll never catch him slippin)

plays coolmathgames.com during class

doesn’t really know what to study/prioritize so he overwhelms himself with every single topic ever

thinks he’s god by pulling an all-nighter to look at the 60+ slides last minute

Swears he’ll change and do better next semester,,,</3

goes to the cafe, takes pictures of his notes & laptop, post it on his story, then leaves

JONGHO:

thrives off of red bull and ice americanos

gets notes and study guides from his upperclassmen because everyone loves jongho

an audio learner so he’ll probably work out or go on a jog while listening to lessons/audiobook

never pulls all-nighters bc it messes up his sleep schedule and says he’ll do it in the morning but he never does

doesn’t even own a highlighter, he’ll circle or underline stuff with a red or black pen

has never touched a textbook in his life

only the study guides and slides, his textbook is collecting dust rn

his notes are literally Only for him because his handwriting only makes sense to him

has questionable handwriting,,, it’s like decoding

multitasks a lot but it ends up taking a lot longer than he wanted to (bc it’s a myth)

very spontaneous; he’ll grind for 5 hours straight but sometimes he won’t even touch a pencil

works best when he talks about the work in groups and share information with each other, like having a convo about the topic

unmutes his mic Once after the lesson to say “bye”

does his work right after the lessons but then takes a short break & doesn’t even Look back for the rest of the night

-

a/n: tag yourself ! i’m a bit of hohong (i projected myself on all of them in some way lmaooo)

[sneezefiction]

sleep over? please.

Akaashi x reader - scenario

prompt: Sleep over? Please.

a/n: Akaashi has my heart, y’all. i thought i’d write from a prompt this time around and i’m about to hit 100 followers, so, being me, i must celebrate with fluffy feels. i love this community. thanks for inviting me in so warmly <3 

warnings: slight cursing

wc: 1440

---

It wasn’t unlike you to be up late. Dim lights on in your room, phone in hand, mind fuzzy and tired.

It wasn’t unlike Akaashi to try and figure out the reason you’re still awake.

Somehow he always knew when you couldn’t sleep. Sometimes he knew by way of instinct and other times you just made your social media scrolls a little too apparent.

Tonight, it was Twitter that gave you away. Your late-night likes, retweets, and posts weren’t exactly incognito, so you expected to get a text from your boyfriend scolding you for still being up, rolling around in your bed sheets.

However, the text you received was far from nagging… 

12:53 am - Akaashi: Saw you on twitter. I can’t sleep either.

12:53 am - Akaashi: If you don’t want to, it’s fine, but I have a proposition...

12:53 am - Akaashi: do u want to sleep over?

12:54 am - Akaashi: Please.

---

12:55 am - Y/n: Give me 10 minutes

You’re not sure why, but his text surprises you. Akaashi has always been self-sustaining, not usually asking for much from you, his friends, or family. So the needier tone in his text gets you wondering if he’s actually okay.

You know better than to ask him ‘what’s wrong’ over text. In-person conversations are more comfortably suited for him. So you slip on some sneakers and swing a jacket over your shoulders, tugging the sleeves up and onto your arms making sure to be as quick as possible.

You pat yourself down for one final check - keys, bag, and wallet... all here. Nodding to yourself, you set off.

As you pull up to his house, you notice that Akaashi is already standing on his front porch waiting for you.

He’s wearing a textured, gray hoodie you gifted him a few months back and some name brand joggers. Akaashi always manages to be unintentionally fashionable, especially when it comes to lounge-wear.

As you make your way up the walkway, you notice his slightly unfocused expression. A clear sign that he’s feeling a bit off. Akaashi only ever got that way under major stress, usually relating to school or volleyball.

He lets out a breath, reaching his arms out toward you and wrapping them around your neck. A hand shifts behind your head, entangling your hair in lithe fingers and pulling your face gently into his chest.

“Sorry for asking you over so late.” He sighs, almost as though he’s disappointed in himself for being needy.

“I always tell you to let me know if you need something, Akaashi. I’m glad you texted.” You muffle out into his hoodie, drawing your arms around his back.

“Let’s go inside, I’m sleepy and I know you are too.” He states.

As if on cue, you let out a big yawn. This guy is something else. A prophet? A mind reader? Just super intuitive?

Ah, whatever, you give up thinking about it. He just is what he is… and now it’s my turn to figure him out.

You head to his bedroom, familiar with its colors of deep blue and crisp white and, as per usual, completely spotless. You’ve spent many a day and night theorizing, studying, and laying next to your boyfriend in this room. It’s a bit of a sanctuary in its own, quiet way.

Akaashi lets you crawl into his bed first so that you can claim your space under his covers. You feels the bed shift slightly as he joins you. He’s relatively silent, but not in his usual manner. It’s as though he’s trying to say something, his mouth barely opening and then closing right after.

So you let him process his words before they inevitably tumble out. In the meantime, you both study the ceiling above you, not making physical contact yet in order to minimize distraction from his thoughts.

“Y/n, do you like me?” He breaks the bubble of silence around you.

“Hm?” A silly question, you think.

“You know I do, Akaashi. I’m dating you, aren’t I?” You chuckle, turning your head to the black-haired boy. His face is entirely serious, eyes still fixed above.

“What do you mean exactly?” You question, matching his seriousness this time.

He runs a hand through his hair, then shifts his head toward you, reaching an arm under the blankets to grab your hand.

Rubbing your hand with his thumb thoughtfully, Akaashi clarifies, “I mean, why are you with me? What benefit do you see in being around me?” He pauses, taking a breath before his next question.

“Do you really see a future with me?” His cheeks are tinted pink, but the question isn’t cute or lighthearted.

It’s anxious.

You can practically feel the self-doubt in his whispers. A masked vocalization of his fears, probably stemming from the beginning of your relationship, spilling out.

You move closer to his body, pulling him into your chest, deciding that physical contact would be the best way to convey your answer.

“Akaashi… remember when we talked about college and plans awhile back?”

He nods. 

“And how we discussed long distance?”

He nods, but clearly the topic was more painful for him, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“You know it’s only a couple of hours, baby.” You remind him gently, “We have every weekend… every slower day… any school break to see each other again.”

“I know, I know.” He sighs, “But, do you really want me? Do you want to drive and wait for me?”

You unlink your hand from his to run your fingers along the outline of his slim jawline. It’s the first time he’s ever expressed his hesitance of your feelings for him.

He needed confirmation and confidence that you care for him. That you want to be by his side.

Throughout high school, he’d had the luxury of being a vital part of his team. They needed his skills. His team relied on him and trusted that he could follow through as a setter. Without Akaashi they would’ve been lost and, at the least, much weaker.

But you were a different issue entirely. You didn’t “need” him per se. His critical thinking and intellect could only get him so far in a relationship. Something he didn’t see himself being in for years… yet here he is, you in his bed, listening to him sort through his problems once again.

You see him flipping through the thoughts in his mind, so you bring him back to the real world, pushing his hair back to place a delicate kiss to his forehead.

He meets your eyes.

“I know you don’t see it my way, but Akaashi… this relationship is more than just some cost-benefit diagram.” You smile, eyes lighting up with humor.

“I am choosing to be with you because…” It’s your turn to blush, debating whether or not this is the time to say it.

And it really is time. He needs to know how you truly feel.

“... dammit, Akaashi, I love you.”

His heart jumps. Those were 3 words he wasn’t expecting.

You continue, “Yes, you add something to my life. You make me laugh and think deeper than I’m used to. You teach me perspective. You treat me so kindly but…” He’s listening so intently now,

“You are so much more than what you give. You make me want you. To hold you, text you, and call you if you need anything. To just lay here with you… you make little things so much more beautiful.”

Akaashi may not speak much, but this is a new level of speechless.

It’s like you’re confessing to him all over again.

But this time, it’s from the basis of love.

Nothing cute or made-up. Just... sincerity.

“So, please, if you ever think I don’t care about you or want you around, even if we’re fighting with each other or managing too much at one time, just call me. I’ll drop everything to get to you. I promise.”

It takes him a moment to handle everything. To grasp these abstract feelings and apply them to your relationship.

But after a minute of stillness he finally understands.

He feels the same. And he has for a long time.

It’s why he cares so much to hear it from you. To know that you don’t just like him, but that you are actively willing to seek him out. That you want his presence, his rough edges, and his faults in your life.

“I… love you too, y/n.” He manages to respond, unsure as to how he can answer to everything else you’ve just said.

So you bury your face in his hair, letting the flush slowly fade from your own face and breathe in the perfume of his cedar scented shampoo.

“Thank you for trusting me.” You whisper.

“Thank you for coming over.” He murmurs in reply.

“I love a good, emotional sleepover, baby. You should know that much by now.” You quietly jest, eyes closing.

“Yeah,” He hums, “I appreciate them too.” Mumbles Akaashi.

You both drift off into a serene sleep, releasing your hesitations and inhibitions into the tranquil midnight air.

---

From this day forward, you both refer to this moment as “Akaashi’s Therapy.” 

Since then, it’s become an inside joke, but only you two remember how monumental of a turning point this conversation was for your relationship. 

It’s why you both made it through your last year of high school together. It’s why, even with weeks (sometimes months) of distance, you both consistently went back to each other. Study nights, weekend trips, and Christmas parties.

And also why you’re here now, admiring the glimmering diamond engagement ring on your finger. Hand-in-hand with your best friend, now fiancé, at a summertime festival. It feels like a dream, but the many long years apart remind you that it’s very real. That you both made it.

No cost-benefit analysis or prophetic parable could’ve gotten you both to this point. No war strategy and not an ounce of magic could’ve held up...

But a sleepover? Hell yes.