#that's rhetorical. i know which one it is.

[megalony]

Have A Little Faith

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine I had based on a idea after seeing the newest episode. I hope you will all like it.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: Eddie goes to confession because he feels guilty. Guilty for distancing his family from his parents, for not trusting them anymore. And for the memories he has from trying to protect his wife when they didn't help her.

(I'd love any feedback on this one)

Enjoy.

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

"Dios, what am I doing here?"

It sounded like a rhetorical question, but Eddie wasn't so sure if he was asking himself or if he was in fact, asking God for the answer to that.

His head tilted back and his eyes cast high until he was staring up at the ceiling which seemed thousands of miles away just like the stars when he stared up at them at night. He found himself focusing on the arched roof, the vertical beams and slanted wood holding the roof together and the high arches that provided shelter for the birds that often flocked into the church for sanctuary.

Eddie figured all forms of animals needed sanctuary from something at one point or another, not just humans.

His boots clammered against the heavy stoned floor and made it sounded like he was making an entrance, but not the good kind. The vibrating noise his boots made sounded omnimus, like he was making his descent into Hell and announcing his presence. Maybe that was what he was doing, he couldn't be sure.

At least there was no one else here.

It was early. Morning mass had already taken place, but the next one wouldn't be until late this evening. That was why Eddie was here. He knew from experience that hardly anyone came to church at this time and he was relieved to find every pew was vacant. There wasn't a soul in sight, except for the priest who was conveniently stood near the confessionals.

Part of him wanted to turn away. A big part of Eddie's mind was telling him to turn around and leave. This wasn't a good idea. He shouldn't be doing this. He hadn't committed a big sin in order to be here, and he wasn't in a dire situation where he needed to pray to God for strength or a miracle. He hadn't been inside a church since before he moved to LA and he hadn't done confession since he was in school.

But he didn't know what else to do and there was a tiny, miniscule part of Eddie's brain that told him that a confession, or that being inside a church like this, might just give him the sense of peace he was searching for.

His hand stuffed deep into his pocket and his other hand merged with the back of his head so he could scratch his nails deep enough into his hair to reach his scalp and create scratches along the base of his neck.

His head aimed down and his eyes trained in on the slabs of stone beneath his feet as he trudged down between the aisles.

Walking like this reminded Eddie of his first marriage. The one that had gone wrong. The one he was pushed into by his family because of his faith. He didn't want to get married at nineteen. He didn't think being married would make much of a difference between him and Shannon; they had been in love at the time and they were having a baby, marriage wasn't a necessity.

It was for the family, though. And when Eddie signed up for the army, being married seemed like the safer option. If he didn't come home, Shannon and the baby would be okay, and being married gave them both better benefits with the army.

His second marriage was the one Eddie was proud of and happy to remember because it was the marriage he actually wanted. The one that didn't happen in a church. The one with a close-knit gathering of just the main family and a few close friends and the girl who had stolen his heart, vowing never to give it back.

Eddie kept his eyes firmly on the floor when he reached the confessional.

He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, desperate to break out of his body and run away to safety. The panic started to overwhelm his system when he pointed his shaking hand at the confessional without looking at the priest. He didn't want to look.

He didn't want to see who he was going to be confessing to and he didn't want his confessor to see him either. He didn't want to be observed, only listened to and absolved.

The moment he sat down and pulled the curtain across, Eddie dug his short nails into his thighs through his trousers and tilted his head back until the back of his head hit the wood.

He let his eyes fall closed and took a very slow, deep breath. He could hear the old mantra in the back of his head. In, hold for three, out for three. Again. And again.

He could hear (Y/n)'s voice in his mind when he used to suffer panic attacks on a daily basis.

"It's okay, baby. Everything's okay, just breathe with me."

Sometimes, when he heard those words, Eddie could close his eyes and feel (Y/n)'s fingers tracing his face. He could feel her temple pressing against his and her words ghosting across his lips and he could feel her smiling against him. That was how he got through the panic attacks; he either envisioned his wife sat on his lap, cradling his face in her hands. Or he actually had her sat next to him, coaching him through it.

She was a great coping mechanism.

He took another deep breath before he tilted his head to the left and dared to look through the wooden slats that separated him from the priest on the other side. He knew the priest had sat down because he heard the other curtain pull across.

At least they were the only ones in the church. Eddie wouldn't have to hang his head and avoid looking at anyone else when he left and he didn't need to worry about anyone hearing what he was going to talk about today.

What was he supposed to say?

Was Eddie supposed to speak first or did he wait for the priest to tell him how this worked and ask what he was here to confess?

It had been over a decade, almost two, since Eddie had been in this position and it was making him regret turning up at all. Maybe he should have gone straight home. He wasn't even sure why he detoured here on his way home from work.

"What's your name? You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but it might help you relax."

Was he that easy to read, even through the pannels? Did he look that nervous?

"Eddie. It's uh, it's been a while, since my last confession. I haven't done this since school. I haven't been to church since we moved to LA."

Eddie only used to go to church when his mother insisted. His parents went almost every Sunday when his father wasn't away working, and he knew his sister's went to church at least once a month. He may have been raised Catholic, but Eddie didn't instill those beliefs into Chris and he didn't want to follow such a devout life.

He had his faith, he kept his beliefs to himself and he prayed when he had to. His faith never wavered, even if he didn't think or speak to God very much these days.

"That's okay. What do you want to confess?" It didn't feel okay, but Eddie was glad he wasn't being judged.

What did he want to confess? Why was he really here? What had drawn him to this church when he was passing? What caused that instinctive decision to turn right and pull up rather than carry on straight and go home?

"I don't- I don't have to reel off every sin, right?" He almost quirked a smile and when he glanced to the left, he saw the priest dip his head forward and he could just imagine the Holy man smiling.

He must get asked that a lot. There would be some people, like Eddie, who weren't sure they would get resolution if they didn't atone for every sin they had committed since their last confession. But surely Eddie couldn't be asked to recount each and every sin because some were little, and admittedly some were large. He did have the time, the energy or even the memory to recount every time he had sinned over the last fifteen years or so.

"Maybe just the main ones. There must be a reason you decided to come here today."

"Yeah…" There was a reason. Deep down, Eddie knew what had been playing on his mind long enough to make him come here.

His hands switched to clasp together on his lap until his fingers were imbedding in the back of his hands between his tense knuckles that were starting to turn white. He pressed his hands down into his thighs and tilted his head down until the back of his neck ached and his shoulders arched up to try and relieve the tension.

With a deep breath, Eddie tilted his head back up again but he couldn't find the will to open his eyes. He kept them tightly closed as the thought of his parents crossed his mind like a vision from God, telling him the real reason he was here.

"My folks called, they want me to visit." He heard how pathetic his voice sounded and he hated the words as they passed through his lips.

They sounded so ordinary, so normal and usual as if Eddie was talking to one of the guys down at the station in passing. Rather than sitting here in a confessional, opening up old wounds for God to see and resolve him of the sins he was harbouring.

"And you don't want to?" There was an air of caution in the priest's voice because he could tell he was missing something here.

Eddie wished he could open his mind. He wished he could transfer his thoughts, feelings and memories into the mind of the man on the other side of the wooden pannel. He wished he could show him what was wrong instead of having to explain. Eddie was never good at explaining, he could never find the right words or the right way to explain without making a mess of things.

He was surprised he even managed to ask (Y/n) to marry him without blundering it all up. But then again, he hadn't made a huge gesture out of it. He'd had the ring for a few weeks and when he looked at her one night and couldn't think of his life without her, he asked her outright to marry him before giving her a million reasons why he loved her afterwards.

"They're the reason I moved here." A sarcastic, croaky laugh followed Eddie's words as he finally released his hands from his death grip on his lap and tipped his head back again.

"And… you feel guilty, about distancing from them?"

"I guess,"

Maybe it was guilt that drove him here. Maybe that was why Eddie was sitting here asking for resolution. But he knew this wasn't going right. He was talking like he wanted the priest to know the answers without knowing the situation or the problem. He was trying to let the priest lead this conversation but it wasn't working. Eddie had to open up, it had to go both ways.

"Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you, it can't be for deciding to move away. People grow, people move, that's not a sin."

He could see the priest looking- or at least trying to look at him through the wooden pannels and it made him shiver. He didn't like to be observed. He didn't like opening up like this. Eddie was used to bottling things up, that was the example he was led by with his parents and the way he always dealt with things since he was little.

It was hard to rid a lifetime of practice like that and install a new technique to open up and make himself feel better.

Eddie knew moving away wasn't a sin and he knew it wasn't the reason he was here, at least, not the main reason. But it had something to do with the guilt he was feeling. Moving his family down to LA had been a big step and it had been the best decision he'd made, but it didn't let Eddie run away from his fears and his memories.

"I feel guilty for not trusting them around my family." The guttural, choked sound Eddie let out sounded like he had just swallowed poison when the words were finally off his tongue.

The guilt was weighing heavy on his heart. It was the reason he could never find the will to talk to his parents for more than a few minutes at a time. It was why he avoided their calls and tried not to talk to (Y/n) about his folks either. It was why whenever the kids wanted to talk to them, Chris would simply call his grandparents rather than ask Eddie. Chris knew his dad wouldn't speak to them, even if he didn't know why.

Eddie loved them. He loved his parents, but things were strained between them and Eddie couldn't get over how he felt and how guilty he was for distancing them from his family. It was like he had two separate families to live with. He had his home family, his wife and kids, and then he had his external family, his parents and sisters.

His abuela and aunts mingled somewhere in between those two groups because they weren't the ones he had problems with.

"Why don't you trust them?" The priest rolled his lips together and clasped his hands together while his head inclined in Eddie's direction like he was trying to make sure he didn't miss a word.

Why didn't he trust them?

That question was enough to have shivers crawling down Eddie's spine and he looked up at the roof of the confessional like he was waiting for God to leer over him and tell him how stupid and selfish he was being.

He could feel sweat glistening on his skin and trickling down his neck as he grated his nails over his knees.

All he could see was (Y/n).

Her image flashed before his eyes and when Eddie snapped his eyes closed, he could feel water splashing across his skin. Luke warm droplets of water trickling down his face. Tidal waves splashing up his arms, soaking into his shirt and drenching his thighs.

He could feel (Y/n) in his arms. He could feel his throat rubbing raw and he could remember the screams he had let out that made his jaw ache and almost made him lose his voice.

Eddie didn't realise he was crying until he felt a single tear jump from his chin and land on the back of his hand. He quickly swiped his hand beneath his eyes and took a deep, gasping breath to wake himself up. He wasn't back in that memory any more. He was here. He was in church, somewhere he never thought he would find himself again. He was okay and (Y/n) was safe at home with the kids.

Everyone was safe.

"There was an incident. I'd- I'd been out at work, and when I came home, my wife was- she was passed out and they… they weren't helping her."

His hands ran up and down his face and he clicked his jaw into place while he took a few deep breaths to try and settle his system once again. He shook his head, but he could still see that memory flashing before his eyes and it made him want to scream. If he were in here alone, maybe he would of. He might of screamed until his lungs deflated and he passed out. Because that was how he felt when he thought back to what had happened.

"She's epileptic, my folks knew that, and I told them. I told them what to do if something happens, how to help her, what she needs, everything. They've seen it before, seen me help her. But they… they put her in danger. If I didn't get there, she could of- I could have lost her."

Shuddering breaths left Eddie's lips but he managed to reel them back in and get back to a normal breathing pace. He didn't want to be having a panic attack here, in church, in front of a priest. That would be one of his regrettable nightmares.

"I see. And you don't think you can rely on your parents anymore?" His words were careful and calculated, he didn't want to upset Eddie or get this situation the wrong way round.

"Our daughter's epileptic too. My job's hard, we need people around us, but I don't think I could risk my folks trying to help like that again."

(Y/n), Chris and Bella were Eddie's world.

They meant everything to him, always had, always would, and he and (Y/n) were trying for another baby.

Having a family to look after was stressful, Eddie's job was hectic and they needed people around them who could help. People who could help with the kids and who could be there for (Y/n) if she wasn't well or if she was having a bad day with seizure flare-ups.

Both Eddie's girls were epileptic and Chris had CP, and if he couldn't rely on his parents to help look after them properly then he couldn't be around them. How could they stay in Texas after what happened? How could Eddie ever ask his parents to watch the kids?

If Bella had a seizure while staying with his parents, they might not help her properly, the same as they hadn't helped (Y/n). Eddie couldn't risk Bella's health, her safety, maybe even her life, if he couldn't trust his parents. He couldn't allow them to look after the kids and he couldn't have them around to help (Y/n) if they weren't going to take things seriously or listen to them.

Eddie would never stop his folks from seeing the kids and he didn't want to cut them out of his life, that wasn't his intention or what he was doing. But he had to have some distance from them, it was the best thing he could do to look after his family.

"What does your wife think about all of this?"

Eddie's lack of response made the priest suck in a deep breath and he couldn't help but look through the pannels to see what Eddie was doing.

He looked in distress. Both hands back to clasping together, his elbows on his knees and his knuckles pressed deeply into his lips like he was trying to silence himself and stop from saying something he shouldn't.

"She doesn't agree with you?"

"She doesn't know."

Eddie could feel another tidal wave of tears welling up in front of his eyes, blurring his slighted vision of the tiny darkened confession cubicle he was sat in. The lack of lighting in here made Eddie feel like he was in some kind of warped dream or like he was on his descent down to Hell. It didn't do his anxiety any good.

"I don't follow."

Eddie knew his words wouldn't make sense, he knew he wouldn't be able to explain, but he had to talk to someone. He had to get some clarity and resolution and have someone put him on the right path so he knew what to do next.

"The seizure was bad, she woke up in hospital with no idea what happened. She thinks it was a bad seizure, a-and when I said about moving, I didn't mention this was another reason."

Did that make him a bad husband?

Eddie had been torn. He didn't know what to do.

When (Y/n) woke up in hospital, it was much the same as her other bad seizures. She couldn't remember most of the night, she didn't know the circumstances around her seizure or the aftermath. She remembered feeling sick and then waking up with a blank space of almost twelve hours erased from her mind.

Eddie thought he was doing the right thing. He thought telling (Y/n) it had been a bad seizure- which was the truth- was better than saying his parents hadn't looked after her properly like Eddie asked them to. Like they should of. He thought it was better than having (Y/n) be upset or distrusting towards his parents. And he thought it would be easier on his parents.

When they talked about moving, they had reasons. A fresh start, get away from Texas and everything there, family, old memories, old jobs they didn't like. They knew people in LA, there was a good job going for Eddie down here and he'd already done all his training for the LAFD, he only needed to do a prohbation period and then he was fully classed as a fireman. And (Y/n) had a good opportunity down here at Dispatch.

When Eddie told his parents they were moving, they hadn't been happy, they wanted their grandkids and their son close by. But they didn't argue, they knew they couldn't change Eddie's mind. And they knew he didn't trust them anymore, even if his love for them didn't change.

"Then maybe this is a conversation you should be having with her. You might be protecting her, but you could make the situation worse. She's bound to talk to your parents at some point and you're putting yourself in an impossible position between your family. I think you're being weighed down by the truth, it's making you think you're guilty of something you're not."

"Maybe."

"I don't think you need much resolution here, the only sin in that situation is taking all this responsibility on your own."

Eddie didn't know how or why, but those words lifted something from his shoulders at the same time that they sent his heart dropping down to the pit of his stomach.

That was what he wanted to hear. He needed to be reassured that he wasn't a horrible person, that he hadn't committed some increadible sin that he needed resolution from. He was justified in some aspects and that was all he had to hear.

But he had also heard something he was afraid of. That he needed to talk to (Y/n). He had to explain what was weighing heavy on his mind and how it was affecting him. He had to tell her what happened and see what she thought about things and what she wanted to do regarding his parents and moving forward.

But Eddie didn't want to explain. He didn't want to tell (Y/n) about that night.

How could he talk to her about it when that memory plagued his mind and fuelled most of his nightmares?

***

[1 Year Ago]

Moving his hand to cup his forehead, Eddie scratched his nails into his scalp as he closed the front door behind him.

It felt strange to be walking into his parent's home like this, as if he had reverted back to that seventeen year old kid who went out to work in the morning and went out with his friends on an evening- if he wasn't conscripted to babysitting his sisters. He felt like that teenager who had finished a double shift and who was crawling through the door, trying to wake himself up enough to make his way to bed.

The only reason Eddie was coming to his parent's home rather than his actual home was because he knew his family were here.

He had dropped (Y/n), Chris and Bella off here this morning on his way to work and he had talked to his mum before he left.

He kicked off his boots by the door, remembering his mother's rules and traditions that shoes were always left at the door. Something Eddie often did back home because of how instilled those rules were into him.

The tiredness within him started to wash away the moment he headed through into his parent's living room and caught sight of his boy.

Leaning over the back of the sofa, Eddie gently cupped Chris's chin and tilted his head back so he could press a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

"Hey buddy, you had a good day?"

"Yeah, we watch a movie now?"

Eddie danced his eyes up and down Chris's frame and around the sofa. The eight year old was curled up in the centre of the sofa, already in his pyjamas and he had a fluffy blanket strewn across his lap. Eddie hadn't been sure if they would be spending the night with his parents but if Chris was already settled for the evening, he figured they were clearly spending the night here. That was good, Eddie wasn't sure he could find the will to drive back home, even though home was only ten minutes away.

"Give me five minutes and we will." He promised with another kiss against Chris's cheek before he looked around.

He slowly reeled up from the sofa and trudged towards the kitchen to find the rest of the family.

(Y/n) hadn't been well yesterday and most of the night last night she hadn't slept properly. At one point Eddie had spent a good hour cradling her in his arms as she cried because she could feel a seizure oncoming but it took its time.

It didn't seem like a good idea for (Y/n) to stay home today with the kids on her own. Eddie's parents had helped Shannon look after Chris while Eddie had been in the army and after the divorce, they had been there for him and Chris. They had been very welcoming to (Y/n) when she and Eddie got together and now they had Bella, they were one big unit.

His parents never minded helping with the kids and when Eddie rang them this morning and asked if they could help with the kids and keep an eye on (Y/n), they instantly agreed.

A light sparkled in Eddie's eyes when he walked into the kitchen and saw his mum. She was stood at the fridge, a beaker of juice in one hand and Bella in the other. The toddler was sat on her hip with her head on Helena's shoulder and a pacifier in her mouth. It was her bedtime now.

But when the two year old tiredly looked towards the doorway, her lips curved into a grin and she stretched her arms out in Eddie's direction.

"Daddy!" She squealed tiredly around the pacifier between her lips and started to wriggle until he headed over towards them.

"There's my baby." He cooed and carefully took Bella from his mother's arms once she turned in his direction. He lifted her up high before settling his girl down on his chest and pressing a few dozen kisses to her cheek to make her giggle.

Her hands patted his face and she nudged their noses together before she laid her head right against his neck beneath his chin. Her arms cuddled up in between them and she settled comfortably in Eddie's arms, tilted on his chest so she could doze off to sleep if she wanted.

"How's everyone been?" Eddie kept his left arm beneath Bella to hold her up while his rhythmically rubbed his right hand up and down her back and he found himself swaying from left to right to settle her.

His lips formed into a gentle smile when his mum leaned up to kiss his cheek while she set the beaker in her hand down and started tidying up the kitchen while they talked.

"These two have been fine. (Y/n) had a few of those little seizures today though," Helena waved her hand near her temple as if that would help explain what she was talking about, but she knew Eddie would understand.

"Absent ones?" He muttered while he looked down at the little girl in his arms and started to kiss the top of her head.

He could feel Bella's breaths fanning against his chest through his shirt and he could tell she was already halfway to sleep. It was a good thing they would be staying here tonight or she would be unsettled being moved to the car and then back home again.

At least absent seizures were better that full on clonic ones where (Y/n) would tense and spasm and thrash around. And those kinds were easier for his parents to help with. They weren't used to seeing people suffer with epilepsy until (Y/n) came into the family and now Bella had just been diagnosed too.

"Hm, she was drained and looked groggy, so she's gone for a bath." His mum waved her hand up near the ceiling to signal upstairs at the bathroom before she turned around and started cleaning the counters.

But her words made Eddie's eyes narrow and his lips fell into a frown against the top of Bella's head.

"What?"

What was his mum talking about? Why had (Y/n) gone for a bath? Did that mean she had just come out the bathroom or was she still in there?

"She's in the bath, honey." The way his mum cast her head over her shoulder and raised her brows at him made Eddie feel like a teenager just being told some kind of obvious answer. But her words did nothing to calm him down, if anything, they ignited the fire that was starting to rage in his system.

"Who's with her?" Eddie couldn't help the sense of urgency in his voice as his arms tightened around his daughter like she was a comfort teddy in his arms.

"Hm? Eddie she's not a child, she doesn't need supervision."

Helena looked perplexed and she tutted at the end of her sentence with a strange smile on her lips. She shook her head at him before she looked back down to the task she was completing, but she barely managed to swipe the cloth along the counter before Eddie suddenly gripped her arm. He tugged until she had no choice but to turn and face him and his grip tightened to keep her attention on him.

"Ma I told you she's been seizing all day- if she seizes in the bath she could drown. You know someone has to stay with her."

Eddie knew his wife wasn't a child and he would never treat or talk about her as if she were. But he was protective. (Y/n) was epileptic and on a bad day like his when she was having multiple seizures, she had to have someone with her to make sure she was okay.

(Y/n) never took a bath unless someone was in the room with her. Whenever she wanted a bath she would sheepishly ask Eddie if he could sit in the bathroom with her. And nine times out of ten, she ended up pulling Eddie into the bath to lay with her.

It was too risky to get a bath alone, especially if she was suffering bad seizures during the day because if she had a seizure in the bath she could slip under the water and drown. It was why (Y/n) stuck to taking showers because at least if she had a seizure during a shower, she could hurt herself but she wouldn't choke or drown.

"Oh Eddie calm down. She was very tired but she was fine, I helped her get into the bath and the tremors seemed to stop, she was quiet and content so I left her to it."

Eddie's heart plummeted down to his chest as if the organ had been disconnected and felt like a stone dropping into his intestines.

"She was- oh Jesus!"

A disgruntled sound left Bella's lips when she was suddenly jostled from her father's arms and thrust back into her grandma's hold. She whimpered and reached out for Eddie but it was too late, he was already skidding out the kitchen and running for the stairs in the hall.

No, no no. Please don't be happening now!

If (Y/n) was quiet and still trembling when his mum got her into the bath, that meant (Y/n) could possibly have still been enduring a seizure.

Eddie knew his wife. He knew she would protest if she was left in the bath on her own, she was petrified of having a seizure and not having anyone with her when it happened. If she was unusually quiet and trembling Eddie would guess she had been slipping back into an absent seizure and with all the seizing activity today, (Y/n) was liable to go into a tonic clonic seizure at any point.

His feet smacked harshly against the stairs as he thundered up two at a time, grabbing the bannister to propel himself faster until he was at the top.

He spun to the right, almost crashing into his dad at the top of the stairs but he paid him no mind.

Eddie prayed. He prayed he was wrong and he was panicking for nothing. He begged and pleaded to be overreacting and to crash into the bathroom and find (Y/n) laid there, relaxed and calm as ever. Or to walk in on her getting changed and have her flash him that cheeky, flirtatious smile and ask him what he was so eager for.

"Eddie-"

But the moment he flung open the bathroom door and peered inside, he couldn't feel his heart anymore. It felt like someone had thrust their hand inside his ribcage and physically tore out the organ that no longer seemed to be pulsing and beating within his chest.

"Dios- shit- somebody call an ambulance!"

He hurtled into the bathroom, his knees crashing down on the tiled floor with such a thud that it felt like he'd dislocated both his knees.

Without a second thought, Eddie slammed forward until his abdomen was splitting apart with the edge of the bath imbedding into his waist and he surged both arms into the bath.

He could feel the lukewarm water sloshing around and gulping up to his elbows as he joined in the tidal waves that were splashing up either side of the bath. Water was already coating every square inch of the rim around the bath and large puddles were splotched onto the floor around him.

She was seizing.

(Y/n)'s head was periodically slamming back into the bottom of the bath so much that Eddie was surprised there wasn't a dent or even a crack in the tub. But each horrid thrash of her head was dulled down by the water slowing her movements. Her arms were pinned against her chest like she was trying to cover her modesty, but her hands were bent at odd angles and her fingers were curled in odd positions like she was playing an invisible piano.

Her elbows were jabbing at the sides of the bath and causing great waves to splash about her body and her feet were crammed at the other end of the bath while both legs were jerking up and down like she was trying to back stroke in the bath.

Eddie wasted no time in sliding his hands beneath (Y/n)'s jerking body and he reeled her up until she was thrashing in the air, her back barely touching the surface of the water to keep her fully afloat.

He could see tiny marks in the back of the bath where (Y/n)'s head had clearly slammed into the bath before she went under the water.

But he had no idea how long she had been under the water or how much water she had inhaled and had been choking for. It could have been seconds, it could have been a minute.

"Fuck! Fuck!" He didn't care how loudly his voice resonated around the walls as he all but screamed.

Why had nobody listened to him? He told his parents about (Y/n)'s condition, they had known about it for years, since they met her. He told them how to look after her if she ever stayed with them like she had today. He showed them what to do if she seized and started throwing up or choking. He showed them the best positions to lay her in and how to administer emergency medication if needed.

He told them what not to do, don't let her to go sleep after a bad seizure, call an ambulance if she had continuous seizures or started biting her tongue or if she'd injured herself. And he strictly told his mum to stay with her if she was having a bad day and wanted a shower or a bath.

His mum made it sound like she had gotten (Y/n) into the bath and then left her. Did (Y/n) even want a bath? Had she even been lucid, or had his mum decided this would calm her down and helped her strip and then left her to it? Why hadn't she listened to him? Why didn't she check back in and make sure (Y/n) was okay?

"Okay baby, okay, come here. I've got you." Words tumbled past Eddie's lips as he held (Y/n) in his left arm and used his right hand to reach out and pull the plug. He heard the drain gurgling as it drank up the water.

His right arm then slid beneath (Y/n)'s thrashing legs and Eddie did his best to stop the adrenaline from making him tremble all over. He pushed up from his knees so he was crouching beside the bath and tried to be as careful as possible when he lifted (Y/n) from the bath.

He cringed at how her head bent around his arm and pushed her neck out and the strangled noises she made were breaking his soul.

Once she was in his arms, Eddie backed up and went back down to his knees so he could lower (Y/n) down onto the bath mat.

As soon as she was laid out, Eddie got to work. He rolled (Y/n) onto her left side so she was facing the bath and he was knelt behind her. His hands moved to her throat and he leaned over her with his ear as close to her mouth as he could without (Y/n) head-butting him.

She wasn't breathing properly.

She was gasping and spluttering. Her head was still jerking back and forth but water was steadily pouring from her lips. Eddie pulled back and started to pat the heel of his hand between her shoulder blades while his other hand gripped her chin and he tried to pull her head down so she could cough up the water she had inhaled.

It seemed to work. A great surge of water left her lips and spluttered onto the bath mat and her chest seemed to stop convulsing as much as the rest of her body.

"Good girl, breathe for me." Eddie's voice shook as he switched to rubbing his hand all along her back to try and keep her lungs stimulated and open so she would take in proper breaths.

He reached out and yanked a towel from the rail and draped it across (Y/n)'s waist, keeping it loose so it wouldn't tangle or consctrict her while she continued to thrash around.

"Eddie?!"

His head snapped to look over his right shoulder and daggers shot from his eyes when he looked at his parents. His mum was stood in the doorway, Bella in her arms who was thankfully looking the other way over Helena's shoulder. And his dad was stood beside her, trying to crane his head around the door to see what exactly was happening and why he was on the phone to 911. He was asking for an ambulance but he had no idea why.

"She was under the water!" Anger flooded Eddie's gritty voice that was an octave lower than usual.

This was why he was protective. This was why he asked his parents to help (Y/n) today. This was exactly what he feared happening to (Y/n) when she was alone, but not when his family were here to help her.

How was he supposed to trust them when they had let his wife drown? When they had completely ignored his advice and (Y/n)'s state and left her on her own when she was in a bad state.

What if this happened with Bella? What if Bella was playing outside or she was having a bath and they took their eyes off her for a few minutes? Would they let her drown too? Would they take proper care of Bella, or would this happen to her as well?

If Eddie hadn't of come home when he did tonight, (Y/n) would of drowned. He dreaded to think how long it would of taken for someone to check on her and find out what was happening in here.

Terror flooded Eddie's veins as he turned his attention back to (Y/n) when her arm jerked out and slammed into the edge of the bath with a horrifying thud. He gently took her wrist and bent her arm back near her chest so she wasn't at risk of hitting anything else.

When he heard Bella whimper and fidget, he looked over his shoulder to his parents who were still in the doorway.

"Take her downstairs- papi tell them she was fucking seizing under water!" Eddie clicked his fingers and waved his hand towards his parents who were being more of a hindrance than a help tonight. He knew his father hadn't told them the situation and Eddie wanted an ambulance now, this was high priority.

If (Y/n) had been under water for long she could still have some water in her lungs and she could contract pneumonia from this. And all the seizure activity she had been having yesterday and today wasn't good, she needed to go to hospital and be observed and looked after.

He was glad when both parents retreated and he heard his mum hurrying downstairs, although he heard his father standing in the hallway, shakily reeling off the situation to the dispatcher on the phone.

A sigh tumbled past Eddie's lips and he leaned over when (Y/n)'s limbs slowly started to tremble rather than thrash around. She was reduced to shaking instead of violently throwing herself around and it made him feel like a weight had been lifted from his stomach.

His lips attached to the top of (Y/n)'s head and he began gliding his hand up and down her arm over the top of the towel while his other hand brushed her wet, tangled hair from her face and his knuckles glided across her cheek.

"Okay, mi amor. You're okay, it's gonna be just fine. Good girl, I've got you."

His lips stayed against her neck and he shuffled a bit closer when a tiny murmur left (Y/n)'s lips along with another splutter and a trickle of water. He carefully curved his arm around her waist and let her lean back on his lap, but Eddie felt like his heart was beating out of his chest and trying to transfer into (Y/n)'s chest instead.

This wasn't going to happen again. Eddie couldn't let his family stay with his parents like this if this was how they were going to be looked after.

He almost lost his wife.

Eddie wasn't losing (Y/n); not for anything in the world.

[0w0tsuki]

One thing this recent bile that's been spewed at me is just how reactionary the "Transandrophobia" movement is.

Oh hey look it's everyone's favorite transandro bro looking to coddle the dude who called me a "Deranged Hysterical Screeching Wailing Pro Cop Pro Eugenics Victim Racist Ableist Cunt Bitch" because I said "hey don't lie about my friend being a fascist who who wants to genocide nonvoters. No where in her post did she say that where did you even get that?"

The post that's supposedly downplaying transmascs anxiety specifically

Like the most hostility your from this is an irritation at the notion that this is the end of all life forever for trans people. No where is she attempting to downplay the risk. The summary of her statement is "Things are tough. They've been tough before. Don't lose hope and let others control you. There are options even in seemingly hopeless situations and maybe don't kill yourself a". A statement which doesn't call any group out in particular because it's addressed to ALL trans people who are concerned about the election and their hormone access.

And this is the sentiment I've seen from all the trans girls who have been talking about it. Nowhere have I seen transfems attempt to use this as a way to belittle AFABs specifically for being afraid cause guess what? WE'RE SCARED TOO. These posts are an address to a giant of doomerism about the elections that "I'm going to die because Trump is going to take away my hormones and Death before Detransition".

For a group who so commonly accuses trans women being self obsessed and wanting every discourse to be about us, they are incapable of even considering that we might address our own in this. Not only can they not conceive the notion that these are positivity posts meant to elicit hope, they are convinced that we are using this to attack and belittle them specifically. Because in their mind ONLY AFAB people are expressing concerns about being jailed for being trans. Cause it's not like, you know, this is all about an election where the PROGRESSIVES candidate had a history with throwing trans women in men's prisons. What do trans women have to fear of prisons? For a group whose half of their rhetoric is "it's not all about you" they are unable to even fathom that they are not the only ones scared of going to jail for being trans.

You can't even argue this is a straw man because that would imply that there's some fringe Transfem legitimately arguing this that they are using as representative of us as a whole. It can't be a straw man because that would require the physical material of straw to construct it from. They are reverse engineering what our opinion must be from their preconceived notions of us. They are boxing at shadows.

That's why there's no "Unity" with these guys. For all the big game they talk about it they don't WANT unity with us. What they WANT is a bitch to yell at and take the blame whenever something goes wrong in their community. They WANT their whipping girl. I am surely convinced that even if there were no "beaddels", that trans women just shut up about their own oppression forever, these dudes would still be out here twisting the most banal positivity posts aimed at the wider community by trans women, and finding ways to spin it as us attacking them specifically.

[handageddon]

I'm killing time by writing aimlessly about anime again. Mostly eva. Amd I hate that it made me come to the conclusion that the infamous "I'll take a potato chip and eat it!" Death Note scene is actually a good example of some kind of rhetoric, probably. But I don't want to figure out which one.

I can PoE some of them like puns or assonance. Am I allowed to crowdsource a braincell here?

[winterinhimring]

Okay, this is hilarious.

But. Please consider how effective it could actually be to make your enemy burst into tears on the battlefield:

What good is grief against the Enemy's servants? Maglor asks Maedhros, in disgust, one morning. I can help our folk to mourn better than any, but I cannot so much as make one orc quail in its tracks!

It is a rhetorical question, but Maedhros turns thoughtful. If you truly wish to know, I will show you, he says. The knowledge is cruel, but it may serve you well.

Show me, please, Maglor says. He is not without fear, for he knows that what he is about to see will, most likely, be a memory of Angband, but he is a lord of warriors, and he would be able to do more for them than comfort them when they grieve.

So Maedhros does. Maglor throws up when he has seen it. It would be the height of cruelty to use that against them, he says, when he is finished retching.

No, Maedhros says. It was the height of cruelty for the Morgoth to do it. To stop them would be a mercy, by whatever means it must be done.

So the next day Maglor rides out at the head of the cavalry of the Gap. There is a large orc-band riding through the country, and Maglor begins to sing.

He sings of the stars over Cuivienen, reflecting in the waters of Lake Helcar. He sings of Yavanna's forests and Irmo's gentle dreams and Aule's lessons in craft that are for beauty and not for pain. All this was your birthright, by your fathers' fathers. Have you forgotten? the music asks.

And the orcs burst into tears. Some fall dead at once, spirits that retain more memory of the Elven-kind they might have been revolting against the foul forms in which Morgoth has clothed them, fleeing to the doors of Mandos. Others fall upon their blades. The cavalry see to the rest, while Maglor sings on.

The skirmish is over in five minutes.

What was that, lord? asks the captain of Maglor, when the song is over.

Mercy, says Maglor, and his eyes are dry.

Fingon and Finrod are both terrifyingly competent war bards, but at equal and opposite things. And Maglor, for all his musical genius, is barely competent at this one skill.

Everyone expects Maglor to be the most talented battle singer when they’re figuring this out—including himself. In Aman, in peacetime, he’s widely accepted as the finest singer, harpist, and composer of the Noldor. Even Finrod and Fingon, accomplished musicians by any other standard, don’t question this. Maglor can wring tears from the most stoic master bard with his achingly beautiful voice. But after the first few Orc raids in Beleriand, never mind the Dagor-nuin-Giliath, it’s clear this does not extend to battle. Maglor is best at inspiring sorrow. This is excellent when you need to write the tragic downfall of your people to let them weep for their many losses. It’s less useful for helping allies or slaying Orcs.

Fingon, though, is the best at inspiring hope in his own forces. He never tells anyone so, but he discovers this in the mountains of Thangorodrim by coaxing his lost cousin to sing back to him. Fingon can hum the exhaustion from your limbs and sing the pain from your bruises, and he can give you the strength to push forward for a final charge. What annoys everyone else is how spontaneous and genuine it all is; if Fingon’s sudden battle compositions were contrived, they wouldn’t be half as effective. Maglor was known to grouse about Fingon showing him up when his nonsense refrain for the Dagor Aglareb—Our lances keen with deadly sheen / with ardor fierce, our foes to pierce!—caught on better than Maglor’s own elegant anthem.

Finrod is an unholy terror to enemies on the battlefield, and the Orcs flee before his song. He is a son of Eärwen of Alqualondë, twice as much Lindar as he is Noldor. Finrod’s mother was the finest loremaster of their clan’s ancient chants against the Dark, first crafted at Cuiviénen and perfected on the Great Journey. He learned them from her, and then he did them better. Finrod has lessons from Melian on how an elf can channel the Song’s chords for best effect, and he takes to it with deadly competence. Finrod could sing dread into the enemy’s heart and a tremor into their hands on their weapons. Golden, laughing, kind Finrod never raised his voice in song against another elf—but when he cast away his crown for Beren, they say you could catch the edges of terror from seeing his sharp-toothed smile.

(There are not many who knew Maglor, Fingon, and Finrod all well enough to compare them. But those who can whisper how tragically misplaced these talents were. Perhaps Fingon could have woven a more compelling song of hope against Sauron. Perhaps Finrod’s chants of terror could have driven away even a Balrog better than Fingon’s hope for a false dawn. And it was cruel of Eru to give Maglor a gift for sorrow, when he had eternity to sing of it to the waves, with naught but the wind’s wail for a duet.)

[outrunningthedark]

If oliver can’t stand his LIs and he’s not sure if he wants buddie canon, tf does he want then lmao???

Okay, I was literally about to make a post concerning this because I see people completely swerving the actual issue still, lol.

It’s not about Oliver “not getting along” with love interests off screen. Which I WOULD question when Buck’s last hetero relationship was with someone Oliver already knew.

It’s that he allows that conclusion to be made.

Look, I’m not gonna lie and say I didn’t laugh at him posting that [frustrated face] emoji the night BuckTaylor said I love you.

But when you add that to him acting as though Annelise didn’t exist - when Annelise is kinda sorta a friend being faced with fatphobia and racism - and now his public disregard of the guy involved in Buck’s first queer relationship…

…It’s not about his own personal feelings. It’s about doing just enough so that a group of people on the internet will praise him for being a #BuddieWarrior. And if the hate isn’t being directed at him? He can pretend it’s not happening.

Why speak up about the biphobic rhetoric in that interview? Because he knows he’s the one who said it.

[meli-writes]

Mechismo - No. 04 /// Hit List

(First) / (Previous)

The broken war-machine falls to its knees, embroidered with a hot-white trim in the three perfect holes of its precious, now-former, systems; spilled out, as black smoke, except for its heart.

That falls out after.

“Hey. Princess,” you say to her, brass hard-but-hollow, the used shells her imperial-blonde hair rushes into, as she breathes into the dirt pushed underneath painted nails, as boots tread on them before she can reach for her pistol.

“You,” she snarls, twisting on bent limbs. “Fucking asshole I’ll— Hey!”

You hoist her up at an elbow, till her few, furious trembles collapse into a copacetic dangle and watch a local, mouse-analogous species squeeze itself under some muddy shrapnel.

“Princess”, you mutter, “you wanna live. So you’re gonna yield to me, okay?” And that’s rhetorical, because ‘deathwish’ isn’t in her—

“Not a chance in His hells,” she shrieks, kneeing herself free, and reaches — not for her holster, which is still full — but for your face. Crack! You catch it after, bring it behind her back to lock in re-used, disposable cuffs. “I can… I can take care of myself,” she protests.

“I know. That’s the problem — I won’t let you hurt my people.” You yank her back, till she trips and is left leaning on you, “Now yield.”

“No,” she squeals, “why would I ever trust you again?”

You trusted me?

Fuck, Princess. You’re dense as tungsten-tips.

You baulk at her, unseen from behind, and reswallow the budding softness before she feels it, “Cos these guys will bleed you out for fun. And I’ll let them, if I have to.”

There’s a wet shuffle-over-fallen-log, the familiar pitter-patter of light, temperate rain on plastic poncho. Another hunter who’ll see her in a moment. So you rock her around, without mind to the furious look painted like camo on her face, and take her at the small of her back — and pull her into a kiss.

“Fuck— it really is,” the hunter starts to mutter, before the words catch in his throat.

You know him; too new not to take it by-the-book, not too dumb not to listen to you when it counts. “Sir, what’s happening?” he asks.

You have to make this count.

“What? She’s a pretty thing, ain’t she?” you muse, as if you’ve pinned her to the wall for nabbing extra rations, and not—

He’s got his rifle over his shoulder; tall-as-him, rounds as big as her cock; is too drilled to not be gentle with it. He’d seize up if you drew on him, and it’d take him too long to respond in kind. “I had a thing with her back in the royal college.”

“Uh huh — before you betrayed me,” she cuts in, and you will her to shut-up and wonder if she still loves fingers squib-loaded down her throat.

“Before they realised I was a saboteur, Princess,” you remind her, though her eyes look the same as the first time she realised it. “We were never on the same side.”

“Never on mine,” she hisses, her own heart fallen out too. “Trying to fake your own death and blaming it on me…”

You would fill into the silence, And it would’ve kept you away, and, Still you found me, if you weren’t aware of the audience, so stuff yourself with unload pride, “Offered to take you with me, didn’t I?”

She looks like she’s gonna cook-off, “You don’t know what I was—”

“Sir,” he reminds, and you look at him; realise he is gentle, because his rifle is kick-stood on the ground and you didn’t hear that. His hand rests on his holder, “She’s on the hit list.”

Pilots to be put down. Machines to scorch, so no one else can use them.

Pilots like assassins, in their bonded semi-mechs; merchant third-sons with an insecurity to smother in bodies and merc hires; and ex-noble fuck-ups with nothing left but what they can prove.

Pilots like her, who’ve seen the gun and are nuzzling into your shoulder so deep you can hear the little killer’s loose heart pressed between your chest and hers.

“Look— Fuck— I— I yield,” she whimpers.

You run a hand up her back, to rake through her hair and tip her back.

“Then scrap the mech,” you say past her, looking in her eyes and slipping to her that same fear, before swelling viciously upon her desperate sweetness, “I’m not done with this one.”

---

(Masterpost)

[kurigohan0909]

Rewatching Link Click: Easter eggs in your noodle soup?

So I've just finished watching both seasons of Link Click/Shíguāng Dàilǐ-rén, which means that obviously I'm watching it all over again. What did you expect me to do, sit around waiting for Bridon arc while the Bilibili official account taunts us with replays??

Besides, Link Click is one of those dishes that is best served twice. The early episodes are packed with hints and foreshadowing that only become clear once you've gotten up to date, so I've made it my mission to catch 'em all.

You don't say.

It's well known that certain early mini-arcs (for instance Chen Xiao's basketball match, and Doudou's kidnapping) have implications for the larger plotline or at least contain important exposition/character insights that the story would not feel complete without. There are also several that get written off as filler, or are generally considered to not have any purpose beyond familiarising the audience with the characters and setup, and lulling you into a false sense of comfort before everything goes to shit. Episode 2: Secret Recipe, AKA the Noodle Lesbians episode, beloved as it is, tends to fall into the second category.

Or does it?

On a rewatch, I still don't think it does anything to advance the main plot. We don't even really know where it fits into the timeline, because we're never told what day it is and Lu Guang's watch is never shown on screen (I'll get around to a longer analysis of this another day). However, I'm instead inclined to believe that it's one of the most important episodes in the show - if not THE most important - because it's essentially an allegory for the story of Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang, and gives you a bird's eye view of how the relationship between them is going to develop - which, as you know, is what the show is all about. And the fact that it's not situated in a specific time, in a show that cares heavily about timeline construction, makes it better.

The episode starts with this quote from German photographer August Sander, who believed that, through photography, he could reveal the characteristic traits of people. "The portrait is your mirror. It's you." It's pretty explicit, when you think about it. This episode is a mirror of the entire series, specifically of its protagonists.

Moving on. The episode's storyline is quite simple: two college "roommates" start a noodle shop together, and as time passes, they drift apart and eventually fall out as their priorities change. Yu Xia, the business-oriented one between them, wants to get hold of the secret ingredient used by Lin Zhen, to whose cooking the shop attributes its success. Does Yu Xia really want to steal the secret recipe? Or is it just one of the many things that the quieter Lin Zhen keeps hidden from her that she desperately wants to know, along with everything that went wrong between them? Your guess is as good as mine. Either way, there are lots of indirect parallels between Xialin of the noodle shop and Shiguang of the photo studio, even if for now they're very distinct individuals with their own personalities and struggles. It does, however, give some indication of what's to come.

This question isn't purely rhetorical, as we find out in the very next arc, where Cheng Xiaoshi has a fight with Lu Guang over letting his client's loved ones perish in the Wenchuan earthquake. Even if they eventually come to a consensus, they have fundamentally different life philosophies and approach their missions in very different ways. Cheng Xiaoshi is a hyperempathetic idealist who keeps trying to use his forays back into the past to fix his clients' personal problems, while Lu Guang remains utterly indifferent and staunchly against interfering, even in life-or-death situations. Which turns out to be a facade, because we later learn that he's just as much of a meddler as Cheng Xiaoshi - except he's focused on a singular, selfish goal, which is to keep Cheng Xiaoshi alive at any cost.

Let's go back to the noodle shop. After ten years of running the business together, it becomes clear that the ladies' aspirations are no longer compatible. Yu Xia has big plans for the shop. She wants to broaden their customer base - for profit, of course, but also so that more people can be made happy by the chance to taste their noodles. Lin Zhen's dreams, however, are on a smaller scale - perhaps only on a personal scale. Throughout the episode, it seems that she only really cares about making noodles for one person.

Sound familiar?

At the risk of digressing, it needs to be said that Yu Xia and Lin Zhen are absolutely very much a WLW couple. This isn't bait, it's elegant and really quite unsubtle queercoding that says 'to hell with censorship' loud and clear. Honeymoon jokes, the taxi driver assuming Lin Zhen had fought with her husband, and Lin Zhen's very bold attempts at flirting... we see you.

More to the point of this post, I think it's important to point out that Lin Zhen does not actually care for too many people other than Yu Xia. She's all worn out from making noodles for customers, but she forgets all about that when it's time to make a bowl for Yu Xia. She also keeps her special ingredient - which is one of the secrets she shares with Yu Xia, as we find out - highly guarded. She's never going to let these pesky reporters in on something so intimate.

Why is this important? Because, as it turns out, the episode's storyline - and Lin Zhen's motives - are all about saving Yu Xia.

We learn that the secret ingredient is a local specialty from Yu Xia's hometown. Lin Zhen has been using it for years, keeping the taste of home alive while Yu Xia's drifted further and further from home to the point where she can no longer remember where the ingredient came from. At the end of it all, when Yu Xia returns home, she finds Lin Zhen there waiting for her. Lin Zhen, mind you, does not hail from the same town. The girls met in college. It's home to her simply because it's Yu Xia's home.

This comes directly after a pilot episode that establishes the contrast between urban isolation and rural/familial warmth, through Emma's eyes, and in a show that continually reinforces the concept of longing for home and loved ones. By forcing Yu Xia to reevaluate her priorities, Lin Zhen manages to bring her back home - which is a place that includes herself.

Perhaps it's too early to say. But to me, it's a pretty neat thematic parallel of Lu Guang's solo quest to save Cheng Xiaoshi from death; which is intertwined with a greater goal of giving Cheng Xiaoshi a home, one that is safe and secure and surrounds him with those that love him and are there to stay.

But in the process of achieving this, one of his biggest obstacles is Cheng Xiaoshi himself - his insistence on interfering with the timeline so that Lu Guang can't predict events with certainty, his objections to the way Lu Guang does things, and the definite resistance Lu Guang will come up against if Cheng Xiaoshi learns about his plan. Pretty much every minor mission they undertake is a rehash of the same argument; Cheng Xiaoshi wants to use their combined powers to make a difference to other people's lives, and Lu Guang just has one goal in mind which means that he's going to ignore absolutely everyone else.

Notice how Yu Xia's looking to the future, while Lin Zhen's dream is to go back to a point in the past? Neat.

And when they finally part ways because it's clear Yu Xia is not going to support Lin Zhen's goal? Yu Xia asks her where she's going to go after they part ways, and Lin Zhen says:

I wonder where we've heard that before.

And if you need any more proof that this episode is in fact intended to be a mirror, do consider:

Their seating positions are mirrored too. Yeeeeaaaaaahhhh.

In conclusion: if this allegory is to be believed, then trust that Lu Guang will eventually succeed in his mission and Cheng Xiaoshi will find his way home to him. It'll happen, guys. In the meantime, at least our beloved noodle ladies will be living a peaceful life out in the countryside.

Since I don't know how to shut up and this website seems to be giving me infinite space to yap, let me include some more details about this episode that I found cool. There are so many.

Lin Zhen and Lu Guang are both shown while this line is being said. What with all that the fragrant flowers represent, it makes you think about what these characters' best memories might be and how much they treasure them.

This is such a tiny detail that you'd almost definitely miss it on the first watch, and it seems insignificant - until it isn't. When Cheng Xiaoshi hops into the girls' picture taken during their college days, he screws up and suggests they'd be better off dabbling in tech stuff like apps or intelligent management than running a noodle shop. Lu Guang makes him quickly eat his words, but they seem to have still struck a chord with Yu Xia - because later we see that she works over years to integrate an intelligent supply chain management system into their business. In fact, one of the reasons for Lin Zhen to alienate herself from the business is because she feels like it's gotten too techy and lost its human touch. Not really fair considering it was her own idea, is it?

I mean. This is probably a stretch. Digitization is pretty inevitable for big businesses nowadays, so Yu Xia, being as enterprising as she is, might have gone for it whether Lin Zhen suggested it or not. But it's interesting to think that it might be Cheng Xiaoshi's tiny alteration of the past that unfurled outwards like a hurricane from the beating of a butterfly's wing and catalysed their falling out. Especially because these kinds of bootstrap phenomena very much occur in later episodes and are a core feature of Link Click's time travel model.

Some suspicious behaviour on Lu Guang's part. He's quite certain there are no useful clues in the last picture Yu Xia and Lin Zhen took in front of their shop, despite it being the only one taken by Lin Zhen (seriously! you could go to her house, look through her phone, the possibilities are endless!) and the fact that this is the photo Cheng Xiaoshi did end up solving the mystery in, thanks to the ticket stubs he found in her purse (see?) Secondly, they outright miss a picture in the envelope - the most important picture of all which would have given them the answer right away, since this was when the fragrant flowers were first used. Not your best work, Lu Guang.

...or is it? Lu Guang is pretty meticulous, and it's unlike him to slip up in such obvious ways. He's also skilled at slipping things back into envelopes when he doesn't want them to be seen, as we know. Could it be that he didn't want Cheng Xiaoshi to solve the mystery? But why? Maybe it's metaphorical, like so much else of this episode: he doesn't want Cheng Xiaoshi to uncover his true intentions. The fact that all this is ultimately for his sake.

Interestingly, Lu Guang was very dejected at the idea of them seemingly being out of luck - they'd tried so many times and failed to fulfill the mission. Was he, perhaps, thinking about another mission he'd hate to fail? Anyway, it falls to Cheng Xiaoshi to cheer him up and give him hope for another try, which he accepts, with a small but genuine smile. My heart.

If you've scrolled this far, I'm glad you enjoyed my ramblings! I must say I don't know much about how Tumblr works so apologies if I mess up on formatting or tags, but I'll probably get the hang of it soon enough. I'll also probably end up enjoying Tumblr more than Twitter since it allows me unfettered yap space and won't feed my writing to the machine (yet). It's late and I should probably stop stop thinking bout it around now... but look forward to more random ramblings and thank you for reading!

[centrally-unplanned]

This seems like a made-up critique of Yglesias? The Dem candidates who ran "ahead of Harris", particularly in relevant swing states, were typically running more conservative campaigns! The Dem ballot initiatives that passed weren't on the topics under discussion, how is that relevant?

You can't take the guy saying this:

This was the original point about popularism. There really are popular progressive ideas. If you center those ideas *and do not push other unpopular ideas that crowd them out* you’ll do great and make meaningful progressive change.

And be like "his idea is lurch right on every issue", it is pretty much the opposite; stay left on all the popular ones and give up losing issues.

Additionally, why would moderation lose queer voters? This is turnout trap logic - what, are they gonna vote Republican? Will Republicans try to outflank them by becoming more pro-queer then Dems are? That is technically possible but come on, they won't do that. So in 2028 the community will face the obvious tradeoffs of one party being way better than the other one, even if that party is only 90% as aligned as it used to be. That 10% isn't gonna shift vote share - every time someone proposes this "lose the base" idea it is just always wrong! Swing voters decide elections. The math is merciless on that.

(I also think equating queer people in general with trans-specific issues is a big trap, but w/e)

I have no real stance on the object level issue here - I don't know what the polling says. I see data like this and I go, okay, seems in the middle here. And see polling where shit like inflation is the bigger decider, so right now I think that is the big stuff to focus on. But we are really young on data from the actual election right now, it is all preliminary. And I know what case the "popularist" faction is making is:

Is this true? Maybe, just a few early polls. But if it is true than Dems almost certainly should moderate their rhetoric on these topics. Since not doing that is actively making things worse for trans people. Because it makes Dems lose elections to a party that wants to ban all trans care for youths regardless of patient/parental consent and strip away discrimination protections. You can pick the way-less-impactful topics like athletics and triage in response, like all politics must do. This is not throwing trans people under the bus! If this data is true, you are throwing them under the bus.

Which I don't think you are actually doing ofc, point is just that you really should be overwhelmingly concerned with "what do the American people actually believe" and be trying to win elections with them. The general approach of the "popularist" wing seems very much on the money right now. They are the same guys outlining how sure thermostatic opinion will swing back but also the Senate Map is unfavourable by a ~5 pt margin. You should want to win the senate! That is far, far more important than any specific issue, definitionally so. There just is no actual upside to maximalism here.

Matt Yglesias seems to think the only thing for the Democrats to do is to lurch as far to the right as possible and throw trans people under the bus, but I think this is stupid; MAGA candidates not named Trump ran behind their peers, plenty of Democratic policies passed in the form of ballot initiatives, and many Dem candidates outran Harris by at least a little bit. AFAICT the election was genuinely a backlash against incumbency and not a repudiation of Democratic policy positions generally.

Which sucks! But it also implies you shouldn’t screw over members of your core coalition to try to seize ground already firmly occupied by reactionaries. People with reactionary politics will vote for the brand name version, and you run the risk of alienating people who up til now voted for you. The problems liberals have relate predominantly to messaging in a fragmented media environment and the uniquely troubled circumstances of 2024 than they do to an electorate disgusted by trans women in sports or pandering to people who use the phrase “toxic masculinity.”

[pinkystyro]

The small talk. - Satoru Gojo. ִֶָ࣪☾.

꩜ STORY CONTEXT: You are the boss of a bakery where Gojo works as a waiter, but lately he hasn't been doing his job properly, so you call him to your office to have a talk with him, which ends in a very different way than you expected.

꩜ WHAT INCLUDES : Satoru Gojoxfem(reader), 3rd person, smut, OneShot dirty names, spanking, cum out, submissive reader, dominant Satoru Gojo, fingering, moaning, teasing, NSFW!!

Enjoy pookies!

₊˚ෆ I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE A LIKE AND A REBLOG !

You wake up on another morning, wash your face as usual and have your delicious coffee with milk and your usual toast. You get dressed and get ready to go to work, combing your hair delicately and applying makeup to your eyelashes carefully and perfectly, you moisturize and give shine to your lips with a pink balm that leaves a slight color on them.

Getting into your car you head to your office, you are the boss of a large food chain business, specifically a bakery.

You thought with determination trying to remember the pending tasks you had for that day “›Fix bathroom door…check warehouse…and something related to Gojo…shit…now I don’t remember well what it was about!!’’

Gojo was a waiter with white hair, pale skin and bright blue eyes who had been working in the bakery for a few months. He was quite attractive, you couldn’t deny feeling attracted to him…it was something inevitable!

You arrived at your shop, you greeted everyone except Gojo, why? Because he wasn't there, he was late AGAIN..

You let out an exhausted sigh and asked listlessly “What happened to Gojo this time?” Everyone looked at you with a face of having no idea why Gojo was late.

You entered your office and left your things on your desk, sitting down in your chair and turning on your computer to check your daily tasks. One of them was to have a chat with Mr. Gojo, since lately his performance had been declining and inefficient, you wanted to know if everything was okay, and there was even the idea of ​​firing him, because not only was he late and often didn’t even show up, but sometimes he fell asleep at work, he spent time distracted, either with his cell phone or showing off with clients… For these reasons, it was necessary to have a professional chat with him about his behavior. So you set about doing the other pending tasks you had while you waited for Gojo to show up.

“..Replenish strawberry frosting..done, call the plumber, done! I only have to talk to Gojo..I’ll go see if he’s arrived yet..” You left your office to find the boy sitting on a stool using his cell phone..

“Satoru Gojo!! To my office immediately!!” You said a little upset and after giving the announcement you turned around, entering your office and taking a seat in your desk chair.

Gojo immediately stood up, following you to your office and closing the door behind him. He stood in front of you and your desk. “Tell me Miss Y/N...what can I do for you?” Gojo said, looking at you somewhat nervously, his eyes scanning your body and your hands that had your fingers intertwined, trying to stay calm.

“Take a seat, this is going to take time..” You said looking at the files on your computer and returning your gaze to the boy once you had opened the file called -Satoru Gojo.- While you skimmed what the file said, you let out a sigh as your eyes met the boy's “I feel disappointed Gojo..” You said in a calm tone, without breaking eye contact. “Your performance at work has dropped, your good behavior and discipline…what happened?” You said as a rhetorical question as you stood up and leaned on the table in front of Gojo. “You’re on your phone every time I look in your direction, your waffles burn, your coffee overflows…and most importantly, you flirt too much with the customers…”

Satoru Gojo looked at you in astonishment and with a satisfied smile, raising an eyebrow he said “You’re right, I haven’t been the best worker, but I think you’re jealous, heh!” He said with a superior air as he bit his lower lip with a mischievous smile.

“Excuse me? Jealous? Could you argue that please?” You said formally, trying to maintain patience and composure, as you couldn’t believe what he had said, although he was partly right, seeing him flirt with the customers caused a kind of annoyance in you that you couldn’t explain.

“You say that the most important reason for all this is the fact that I flirt with female clients… that means you are jealous, isn’t it?” The young man said, getting up from his seat, standing in front of you with his arms crossed while licking his lips that formed a smile on his face. “Don’t worry Boss, you are much more beautiful than any of our clients.” He said, getting closer to you, resting his hands on the desk while looking into your eyes with a flirtatious smile.

“No.. I meant it that way.. you misunderstood me.. I eh..” You wanted to speak but you were so nervous.. his eyes met yours, your cheeks blushed and your nerves made you bite your lip.. shit.

“No? So you're saying that if I come closer to kiss you right now, you'd reject the kiss?” Gojo placed his thumb and index fingers on your chin as he raised it slightly to bring his lips closer to yours and make you maintain eye contact even more with his eyes.

“Well...I...” The young man left you completely speechless, you didn't know how to react, you didn't know what to say, you stood completely frozen in front of his lips, wishing they would finally meet yours.. “No...I wouldn't deny you the kiss..”

Gojo's lips formed a mischievous smile and then he said “That's what I wanted to hear.” he said in a seductive tone before joining his lips with yours in a kiss full of passion. Your lips returned his kiss without any resistance.

His hands moved to your waist, having a strong grip on it to intensify the kiss that soon became a wet one, with your tongues coming together, he bit your lip playfully as he brought you closer to his body. Your breasts pressed against his torso, your hands running down his neck, down his collarbone to his shoulders.

His hands went down to your hip where he slightly raised you to rest your butt on the table and continue kissing you. Your fingers intertwined in his hair as you kissed him intensely. His hands ran over every curve of your body, admiring how submissive you had become to his touch.

His hands rose to the buttons of your shirt, unbuttoning them one by one, thus revealing your bra that Gojo quickly unbuttoned and threw to the floor, leaving your breasts exposed to his eyes. He grabbed one of them with one hand and began to move his kisses down your neck, towards your collarbone, while squeezing your nipple with his fingers, to finally begin to kiss the birth of your breasts and move towards the nipple, which soon ended up being licked and bitten by the boy.

Your body was shaking at his actions on you, legs shaking, your private part wet, sighs of pleasure that you let out... god, you were in heaven...

Gojo finally took off your shirt, still playing with your breasts... You slid your hands inside his shirt, taking it off too, caressing his shoulders and shoulder blades while he devoured your breasts desperately...

One of his hands that was holding one of your breasts slid up your thigh, taking off your underwear while you bit your lip from the embarrassment you felt from being so wet...

His hand slid down, pressing his middle finger against your clit while with the other hand he pinched your nipple and kissed you intensely.

His finger began to rub your clitoris lightly, while he slowly increased the speed, making you feel an indescribable pleasure..

Between kisses, you let out soft moans of pleasure..His hand rubbed intensely while the one that squeezed your nipple moved towards your face, positioning it on your cheek while he kissed you more passionately..

His fingers proceeded to insert themselves inside you, immersing you in immense pleasure..body trembling, moans coming out of your mouth, blushing cheeks..this was perfect..

You stretched your arm as best you could to unbuckle his belt and then his pants..thus removing his pants and underwear..revealing a large member that was hard as a rock from seeing you so excited.

“I want to hear you beg me to put it inside your pussy, show me your dark side boss..” Gojo said in a deep voice, as he bent his fingers to touch your G-spot..

Your back arched at that movement, losing complete control of your moans and your dignity.. In a soft and embarrassed tone you said “..please..I need you to put it inside me..now..”

Those words were enough for Gojo to take his fingers out of you and turn you around, pressing your face against the desk, lifting your skirt and revealing your ass, which for him was beautiful..

He spanked you and then placed the tip of his member aligned with the entrance of your pussy..holding you by the hips, he introduced his large member inside you, which made you let out a loud moan and then cover your mouth in shame.

He started to make movements back and forth, sliding his member inside your wet pussy, fucking you hard against the desk..

You couldn't stop your body from shaking, your moans flooded the room completely, Gojo's member hit hard inside you while sighs of pleasure came out of his lips.. “Y/n..your pussy feels incredible.” Gojo said in a hot tone, without stopping the constant movements inside you..

“oh god..Gojo..I'm going to..I'm about to..oh god..I'm going to cum..I can't take it anymore..” you said with your legs shaking, noticing how your pussy shuddered around his cock..

“Do it..make my cock wetter..let everyone know that I'm the one who fucks your pussy the best..” Gojo said, increasing the speed of his thrusts, noticing how your pussy shuddered more and more around his big cock..

You couldn't take it anymore and you came..leaving the office floor and young Satoru Gojo's cock completely soaked..”God..I'm going to cum anyway..” Gojo said before taking his cock out of you to shoot his cum all over your ass.

You both remained catching your breath for a few seconds before Gojo opened his mouth and said “Well..I hope this settles the matter, Boss.” He said pulling up his pants and then putting on his shirt to go back to work “I'm going back to work..if you need to fix anything else, let me know.” he said before giving you one last kiss while grabbing your buttocks tightly.

After that, the boy walked out of your office door, closing it behind him, leaving you completely satisfied and with the clear idea that you were not going to fire Satoru Gojo... in fact, you would need more talks like that with him.

[essektheylyss]

It is very tiring trying to be like "shadowgast cute and soft, make brain go brrr" while simultaneously feeling still that, even a year and a half later, to a loud portion of the fandom, their relationship through the last ten-ish episodes of the campaign didn't "count" because there was not a (mouth-to-mouth) kiss involved, even though their interactions throughout that last arc were absolutely crucial to Caleb's storyline, and gave the impression of prioritizing each other even while focused on averting an apocalypse.

And in particular, the moments they had at the Blooming Grove were very sweet and spoke of the importance they placed on each other and the grace they were willing to extend to themselves in settling what they both still needed to settle before another step could be taken. But evidently that doesn't actually matter because it didn't result in a traditional domestic relationship (ignoring that, clearly, that isn't even really a possibility regardless of their interest, per the two-shot).

If the feeling had not persisted so insidiously among the fandom, I really would not be so persnickety about it, but it has never felt like that subsided and it is simply rearing its head in a far more noticeable way now that those folks can claim there's actually something to "celebrate" to their standards, as though a relationship cannot possibly be real unless you've watched two people stick their tongues down each other's throats.

Like, do people not realize how exclusionary (and, frankly, pretty invasive) that sounds, or do they simply not give a fuck?

[spider-man-2o99]

individual stills of miguel Scampering on all fours and showing off his more distinct individual movement style (that he has because of his spider-man's Similar-but-still-distinctly-Weird-and-unique powers as compared to the more-graceful Others) so that i don't have 2 keep rewinding the clip(s) to see it. im REALLY excited to see him scuttling and skittering all over the place in the film just like he does in the comics-- and, like, seriously, Miguel Specifically being just. made Massive for some reason in his atsv design will never NOT be funny to me hes SO freakin Bouncy why did they Do That.

don't be Weird on my post or i'll kill you for real

[sergle]

what I was talking abt earlier. we have fully looped back around and away from feminism, societally, whereas before it was very Feminism 101 to acknowledge that many parts of existing as a woman in a misogynistic society are painful and upsetting. not that being a woman is Inherently Negative in a bubble. but that living on this earth, in the conditions we're living in, is hostile to women. and that gender is a performance. that many of the Staples Of Femininity as accepted by society are things that you have to create and perform and mold artificially and aren't inherent, that COMPLAINING about day to day difficulties of existing as a woman is something that you're allowed to do. acknowledging these basic, again, feminism 101 things, that something tied to womanhood is more time consuming or more expensive or more dangerous Because Of The Problems. does not CREATE the problems. that when women complain about having to perform femininity, they are not, in fact, oppressing themselves. the call does not come from inside the fucking house. saying that you HAVE suffered does not fucking equate that you believe you SHOULD have suffered.

like I could talk about this for hours. how braindead and one-dimensional the Takes are getting. "being a woman is looking in the mirror and going fuck yeah i'm a woman" damn. I guess any negative experiences you have by living in a misogynistic world... are your fault if you are anything but positive? "you don't actually want liberation" we've fully gone back to telling feminists "you WANT to be oppressed" when anything negative about our society is pointed out. it's not real until I say it out loud, I guess, and then I'm actually the one who caused it. if anybody expresses any unhappiness with how they're treated or the status quo or the language and culture surrounding womanhood and femininity. they've created it, right that second. they invented it just now. it wasn't a problem before somebody complained, right? also trans women aren't braindead zombies who just follow the flow of whatever cis women around them say. I am pretty fucking sure they are very much aware of pain, and are MORE than aware of the swirling torrent of misogyny and standards of femininity than anybody else. actually. and I am pretty sure someone complaining on tumblr that being a woman means always putting on a performance is going to make someone change their mind about transitioning. also "performing femininity" as a necessity to being treated well as a woman is not fucking NEWS to your Local Trans Woman. I AM PRETTY SURE SHE GETS THE CONCEPT. using trans women as a scapegoat for this braindead perspective on gender politics is spineless, meritless, and pathetic.

[girlfictions]

something i've unfortunately had to come to terms with and urge you all to keep in mind is that there is often no good faith conversation to be had with a zionist — these people are well aware that thousands of palestinians have been murdered in the past month, that the 1948 nakba was one of the most horrific displacements of a human population in history, that israel is currently carrying out ethnic cleansing with full endorsement from the united states — they simply don't care.

attempting to appeal to their sense of morality will not work when these people don't see palestinians as human beings; they have no moral conscience to speak of.

[unopenablebox]

i admit that i find it a little bit frustrating how Wildly Astonished other antizionist jews act when i tell them my israeli jewish family have lived in the region since [some unknown length of time before 1800 when there start being records about it]

[openphrase123]

what are you trying most to communicate in inutile? like, what themes, concepts, emotions do you intend to convey?

so i don't want to show my ENTIRE hand with inutile. and i'm sure the mystery is part of the Fun of it. so instead of me spelling out everything one-by-one. for now i'm just going to ask You a bunch of questions :) and i hope you have fun extrapolating based on how you answer these to yourself!

(one day i will likely do a post-mortem on inutile and what Exactly i was doing. i usually do that for fics. but until then.... here :3)

weird to say but uh. spoilers for my fic below. also isat spoilers. but i feel like if you're reading my fics and isat spoilers bother you then there's another problem happening

so the first thing is just taking inutile at face value - it's a mirabelle looping fic with a few canon divergences. but also if i wanted to do that straight i could have just started with the loops. there's nothing in inutile i've brought up that couldn't be explained in a few flashback chapters, so at first glance it's like... why?what's so important about following mirabelle this far back from canon?

you may notice that siffrin in this fic is being set up with INSANE main character energy. in-game they're written primarily like they're a late-game addition to a long RPG. but in inutile it's like. ohhh you're literally a star from the sky you're so special you're cool and mysterious. you have beef with the euphrasie and the king pre-canon. and yet this entire thing is from the mirabelle POV.

it almost makes you think. why does mirabelle have to be here for this? if i'm worldbuilding the islanders as being Cool Literal Sky People what is mirabelle here for? why is she necessary?

hm. moving on.

yes, she's necessary because she's a sponsor, isn't she? but she's not a sponsor because she's special. she's the one that called siffrin down to earth. she was lonely and dragged someone out of their home to be her friend. siffrin kind of needs her to function, and because she can't help them function in the capacity she's supposed to, he's basically going through a non-looping version of act 5 in the house.

if mirabelle ever learns about this and can hold it in her head for long enough to consider it fully, how do you think that would affect her?

anyway.

so you have a Literal Star From The Sky and Some Random Girl From A Small Village. and the two of them are supposed to be friends.

mirabelle has a lot to see in siffrin. they're cool, they know lots of things, including an entirely forgotten form of craft! they're magic and they help her even if it hurts him to. he's literally here on earth to help her be less lonely. that's their job.

but what good does siffrin see in mirabelle, past the fact that he's written to be magically inclined to seek her out?

one day, this fic will have mirabelle leave the house.

blessed by "the change god", followed by a star, joined by someone who's better at changing than her, someone who's better at craft than her, someone who's better at keeping the team happy than her.

it almost seems like she's... extraneous. unnecessary.

useless.

and that's what inutile is about.

[dawntheduckrb]

I love how you can purposely cater you internet experience to block most politics so you can mentally detox since your media consumption was becoming unhealthy, and still have a whole week of attempting to regain your hope in humanity become completely undone by wanting to eat lunch with your mom (ramble in tags, feel free to ignore; take care of yourselves first <3)