#there’s something so beautiful about change and what it can do to someone

[gloomwitchwrites]

IM FEELING ANGSTY TODAY so what about 141 who is in love with reader but they are in love with someone else <3

ANON! STRAIGHT TO JAIL!

But in all seriousness, I love some yummy angst. Make me suffer. Make the characters suffer. Let's all suffer a little bit. Hope you shed a tear or two (or don't).

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Presented in four double drabbles.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, alcohol, stalking, flirting, yearning, angst, suggestive themes, brief mention of intimate relations, divorce, co-parenting, nurse!reader

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The door opens, and your smiling face greets him. You look a bit tired, but even so, you're beautiful. John wants to snapshot this moment. To savor it.

“You’re early,” you breathe.

John shrugs. “That all right?”

He did it on purpose. The new boyfriend shouldn’t be home yet, which means John can have some time with you.

“Is that Dad?”

The familiar voice of his daughter and small feet slapping against a wood floor reaches him. She appears, arms outstretched eagerly.

“Hey there, dove,” chuckles John, lifting his daughter into his arms. “Ready to spend the weekend with me?”

She squeals with delight, her small arms wrapping around his neck. John glances at you, urging memory to resurface and seize you both.

But it is not to be.

The boyfriend appears. The man that came after the divorce.

John doesn’t blame you for moving on. His job drained the marriage into nothing.

But he still wants you.

“John,” nods the man in greeting.

“Is her bag ready?” asks John, addressing you and not acknowledging the boyfriend.

“Yes,” you reply, handing it to him.

John wants to say, “I love you.”

But he doesn’t.

“I’ll bring her back Sunday evening.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Vape smoke lingers in the air.

Kyle reclines on the sofa, his head on a pillow, scrolling his socials in the dim dark. The television is on, the volume turned low to create background noise. On the table next to him is a bottle of tequila, half-empty and warm. He takes a swig, savoring the burn.

Kyle’s gaze is glued to the phone screen, fingers tapping until he finds your page.

He shouldn’t do this. It’ll only upset him—making him yearn for something he doesn’t have and might never know. It’s a foolish endeavor. Heartbreak just for fucking kicks.

He gazes at your smiling face, of how perfect you are to him. It’s not fucking fair—even if he respects your choice.

You should be his. The two of you should be together.

But there is someone else. A man that Kyle despises but only because you’re not his. The bloke is a good man. He’ll take care of you. Treat you right. Be there when you need him and not away on another mission without any idea of when or if he’s coming back.

Kyle’s chest aches.

"Fuck," he sighs, locking his phone.

He reaches for the tequila.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“How bad is it, doc? Think I’ll live?”

Soap puts every ounce of devious flirtation he can in his tone. He’s putting it on thick.

He gives you his best smile, and he gets the exact reaction he wants.

Your head bows in embarrassment, a soft smile spreading on your face. Your touch is gentle, taking great care to wrap the wound on his bicep.

You’re flustered. It’s bloody adorable.

“You’ll live, sergeant,” you reply, voice a little husky.

It’s such a small thing, but Soap clings to it. To him, this is a sliver of hope. A possibility even though reality says otherwise.

Soap leans in a bit, pushing into your space which almost seems to worsen your flustered demeanor. “I took a hard hit.”

“You did,” you agree. “It’s good they brought you in.”

You have no idea Soap asked Simon to hit him harder during training just so he’d end up here.

But it’s not to be.

The man that has your heart arrives, strolling into the communal exam room without even glancing at Soap.

“You’re ready to go, sergeant,” you reply brightly, demeanor changing now that your boyfriend is here.

Soap’s stomach twists into a knot.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon sits in the dark in his home office. A slight twinge of shame paints his mood, like it always does when he watches the monitors.

He tells himself he does this to protect you. That he’s looking after you even if you’re not aware of his actions. This is just a precaution until you finally realize that you should be his.

Simon removes a cigarette from his jacket pocket. When it ignites, and that luscious burn hits his lungs, a calmness settles over him.

His actions are valid. This behavior is fine.

Simon settles back in his chair, gaze roaming over the different camera views. There are fifteen of them in total. Each one is in your home in various rooms. Infiltration and surveillance are something he’s fucking good at. And he’s done it here with excellent precision.

It’s some of his best work.

In your bedroom, you’re currently on your back, and completely naked. The wanker you call a “boyfriend” is thrusting like a bloody fucking idiot. It’s clear to Simon that this man only cares about himself.

Simon could make you come. He’d give you plenty of orgasms.

But you’re not his.

You belong to someone else.

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[sevikas-biceps]

Just to add on to this. Someone might've mentioned it in the tags, but I wanted to put my take on this thought.

[TLDR: me agreeing with OP and then explaining something vaguely Marxist lmao]

Do note that the power imbalance is also there. Yes, the two of them have their own views regarding the situation [Vi being accustomed to the reality of things, Caitlyn having to be shocked into experiencing it firsthand (and even then not the whole scope of this systemic issue)]—but their subjective experiences don't change the fact that, from a complete bird's eye view, the conflict of power exists.

We see this multiple times in the show. We see this already laid out for us, in several instances, in Season 1.

In what mad world will I trust someone like you? // Someone like me? You enforcers are all the same: just asshole criminals in fancy uniforms. We're here because I'm hungry. Do you know what prison food is like? No. Of course, you don't. Well, that place does look like it has bodies buried in the basement. // You don't know anything. You know what your problem is? // Please, tell me. // You expect everyone to give you what you want. What is this place? // It's where the kind of people you Topsiders don't wanna think about wind up. I know you have your reservations about me. This only works if we can learn to trust each other. // It doesn't work. It never has. You Topsiders always find a way to screw us. // I suppose Topside is to blame for all your misfortunes. // ...not all of them. // We aren't monsters, you know. We're people. Just like you. // You don't know anything about me. She makes...potions. Helps people here with...with...this. // ...shimmer. Why would you take something that does that to you? // I just...wanted to feel what it was like...to be somebody. To make other people afraid. Let's go. I think Vi would be happy to see a friendly face. // No! You...you go on ahead. She...she knew me when I was still...anyway, I don't want her to see me like this. Just tell her I'm sorry...about everything, okay? You used to live here...who's Powder? // My sister. I thought she died, but, now...I have to try and find her. // How do you know if your sister is alive or dead? // It's hard to check up on people from inside a concrete cell. // What, you don't have parents? // No! They were killed by enforcers. I knew it was a mistake trusting you! // You've been a real picnic yourself. Vi tells me I can trust you. You get a pass back Topside—that's it. ...it's beautiful. // If your people had your way, it'd be rubble and ash. // It's a misunderstanding. They think you work for Silco. // Your people hunt us! Like animals! Silco pays them to do it! // That's not possible. You're wrong. // Say that one more time. Ekko! She believes what she's saying, okay? We could beat Silco with this. // That won't solve things. // Easy for you to say! Your people aren't dying all around you! // Ekko...it's wrong what's been done to you. You'd be well within your rights to keep it. I couldn't blame you. But, if you do, the cycle of violence will never stop. This is our best shot at setting the record straight. This city needs healing—more than I ever realised.

[Whew. I actually had to rewatch several episodes just to get the dialogue IFBJKFBF]

Now, back to the topic at hand.

Let's start with the obvious. Whether explicit or implicit, all of these lines trace back to the systemic oppression being done by Piltover against the Undercity.

Vi was wary of Caitlyn in the beginning because she's an enforcer, and enforcers were the people who'd killed her parents. And it's not just that, either. Vi knew about Grayson and Vander's deal. She has witnessed both Piltie and Trencher working together to keep peace between the two cities. Yes, she'd been angry about it (reasonably so), but even then, she realised why such a thing needed to be done. She was even ready to sacrifice herself just to spare her siblings the inevitability of being the scapegoat. This implies that Vi knew there was at least a good soul out there, a sympathiser—who might yet grant her some kindness on the upside.

But then that sympathy got that very same person killed. And here, we finally know for true that good people don't survive the games of life. You don't get as far as you do in your existence without committing violence. The same also holds true for Vander: her father, who'd shifted his morals and priorities to protect his children; her father, who'd also sacrificed himself in the name of their family.

What does that show her? Being good gets you killed. Being good isn't enough.

Huck demonstrates this incredibly well. I just wanted to feel what it was like to be somebody. To make other people afraid. Prior to his reappearance in Ep6, we don't know anything about him save for the fact that he'd made deals of his own in the Undercity—but this is enough to tell us that he, like almost everyone else, is involved in some kind of illegal business. What does that say? Being good doesn't support your life. You have to tamp down the purest parts of you to be able to survive and thrive. If you're not somebody, if you're nobody, then you're worthless. You die. You're nothing. And everything you do is forgotten.

Even those in Piltover knew this. Caitlyn is a glaring example, what with the drastic shift in morals in Season 2; Cassandra is another good model (see this post of mine); Jayce had to adapt to the demands of high society, seeing and acknowledging the points made in Mel's little lessons on politics; Viktor once had to lie low in the Academy, and use subterfuge to achieve even just a fraction of his own potentials and ambitions; the list goes on.

Being good just doesn't cut it. Ekko implies this best: Vi tells me I can trust you. He's mistrustful of Caitlyn not just because she's a Topsider, not just because she's (still and admittedly) largely ignorant of the harsher realities of their cities—but because she'd've been raised on the very same ideals others she knew have also exhibited. What else does Caitlyn know but the life she lived in Piltover? What she knows as 'right' or 'wrong' is vastly different from what someone like an Undercity child would perceive as 'right' or 'wrong'—and being 'good' isn't enough, because the scales of measuring such a thing were already horridly skewed to start.

So, how does this support the idea that there's a pattern of abuse in Vi and Caitlyn's relationship?

The abuse itself starts on the political level. And this is so, because this was the basis of their relationship in the beginning. No strings attached. Get me out of this cell, and I'll give you the clues to your investigation. Lead me to this criminal, and I'll help you find your sister. I'll forget you're an enforcer for a while. I'll pretend you're not a convict yourself. We can work together. Somehow. The nature of their births had already dictated how they were to behold one another in this relationship. It will always hold a shadow over their heads. Even with the deterrent of romance mixed in, this dichotomy will persist.

OP mentions this:

Cait is Vi's only access to safety and food, she's isolated, she has to constantly prove her loyalty to Cait and renounce any ounce of lingering feelings she has towards the only family she has left, she's left in constant state of anxiety because of it.

There will always be a side to Caitlyn that would never understand how life was like for Vi, or for Ekko, or for Huck, or for Jinx, or for everyone else in the Undercity. That's not an accusation. It's just a statement of truth. Even despite the fact that Caitlyn had tried to set things right (evidenced by her efforts to convince Ekko to return the hexcrystal, and later on her talk with Cassandra to speak in favour of their case at the Council meeting), none of that matters because she herself undoes all that she worked for. All that Vi had tried making her see was for nothing.

That's where it becomes abusive. That's where their relationship, past the political layer, gets cruel on a personal level. Caitlyn, even if she didn't mean to do so and even if she doesn't realise it, had taken advantage of Vi.

You Topsiders always find a way to screw us.

Many others have said this in recent posts: it's Us versus Them.

Over the course of the first act of Season 2, we constantly see Vi in Piltover or surrounded by Piltovian individuals; which makes sense narrative-wise, but on a symbolic level also represents her isolation from all that she knew and had been built by (as a person) in her past. There's also an element of grooming present—in the same way Silco had groomed Powder into becoming Jinx. Caitlyn had slowly worn away at Vi (you can argue this as their relationship being developed, but still) and, for better or for worse (worse), trapped her into a situation where her choices leaned only in one direction and one direction only (Piltover or Zaun?).

Caitlyn abuses her power in this relationship. Whether Caitlyn herself realises this or not, whether Vi realises this or not, is irrelevant—what matters is that such a thing had happened at all. Being good fails. You can't have your cake and eat it. Caitlyn has to make the choice: her mother (Piltover), or her lover (Zaun)? Similarly, Vi does the same: her people (Zaun), or her lover (Piltover)?

You can't be good, one way or the other. It's just not enough, anymore. You have to breach something here, you have to commit an evil somewhere there—because being good gets you nowhere. Not when you're at this point of your life. Being good won't help you catch Jinx, being good won't stop the terrorist attacks from happening, being good won't bring your mother back. But being good would just make your people hate you, being good would make you a conspirator to the crimes against them, being good wouldn't sate your lover's need for vengeance.

That's where Vi and Caitlyn's relationship becomes toxic.

That's where the abuse sets in.

not to be the friend who's too woke but I genuinely feel that the only reason the fandom has such a visceral reaction to people calling Vi and Cait's situation domestic violence is because Vi is butch. yes, DV is more than just physical harm, it involves repeating patterns of abuse, all of which can be found in their relationship. Cait is Vi's only access to safety and food, she's isolated, she has to constantly prove her loyalty to Cait and renounce any ounce of lingering feelings she has towards the only family she has left, she's left in constant state of anxiety because of it.

[thewalrusespublicist]

omg can you speak more to your latest post about the reverse happening in 1980, I’ve never about the coherence of the narrative actually :O

Yeah an alternate universe would be crazzyy because our main narrator and star witness of the Beatles would be resident shit stirrer … John Lennon.

John

Fucking

Lennon.

The thing with Paul is that he’s kept to a pretty consistent narrative for the past 40 years or so: John broke up the Beatles cause he wanted to move on, army buddies, they loved each other etc. You can criticise it (I certainly do), but it’s coherent. It’s also one that has allowed John grace and promoted love and community as a core message, something that the other last surviving Beatle Ringo is more than happy to support. It works, we get it, it's a good message in many ways.

Whereas John … wooo boy. The only idea we have of what John would have been like is the 70s where he couldn’t even make a narratively coherent sentence.

If you take his comments and put them together, the Beatles break up was because the guys were blokes he got bored of but also the temple he loved too much but also a marriage that had to end but also a mistake in many ways. Simple, right?

And who was Paul again? Oh, well he was his closest friend ever but also someone he was never very close to and a genius but also artistically dead and yeah, he talks to him often but hasn’t spoken to him in a decade and could talk about him for days but also never thinks about him and is his dear one but also a straight and his ex-coworker who he didnt really work with much … wait no fiance/brother that he would do anything for. Whatever emotion John felt at that moment was his new forever truth/cope and that was the shit he was sticking to on record for those five minutes.

 And that’s John in normal factory mode. Now imagine the nuke that would be losing Paul, his Paul. Imagine every extreme feeling and every defense mechanism under the sun all going off at once and right in the interviewer's face like a deranged grief firework show. Then the added mess of Paul being seen as a saint and Paul the person not being there to reality check John’s view of him … chaos. On top of all that, if Yoko is right and John did contemplate an affair with Paul, you think he wouldn’t have spouted that at some point AMONGST OTHER THINGS WE DON’T KNOW ABOUT? 

Trying to work out the whole Beatles saga would be like trying to find Bigfoot but the compass is pointing in every direction and through several detours through an inexplicable amount of orgies, scandals and psychosexual drama.

 Who were the Beatles? God knows, apparently only the best band ever of bffs/coworkers who were so overrated and boring that John couldn’t wait to leave/never wanted to quit. Who the fuck was Paul McCartney? Duh, the most beautiful perfect wonderful genius man who had ever lived, one of the great loves of John’s life whose memory will stalk his dreams and waking hours until his dying day and has seances for on the reg. Oh he's also a sheep fucking devil who was hated and who intentionally and maliciously slept with half of London and wrote 'nogoodsongsshutup' in an evil plot to trick John to make music with him until Yoko freed him from his spell. What was their relationship? ????????? (okay maybe not everything would have changed lol but we would have so many more details on John’s side). There’d be no message from the Beatles tale, no story, no cohesion. Just a free-for-all pile of disparate tales of love, hate, treepanning and heartache to sift through.

In any case, I would love to see the madness that would be their version of Beatles tumblr.

[ashwhowrites]

Hello, I love your stories and I hope you can make my fun request

Can you do Eddie Munson x Death fem reader

So hear me out let's say there in the upside down (11 and everyone isn't in California there in Hawkins and in the upside down with them and while they where chilling out in the upside down when Steve got hurt all of the sudden they heard whistling and turned and see a badass fem reader and walked up to 11 and starts toying with her (just like the wolf from puss and boots yk Death and when they figured out she's actually death they somehow get her a change of heart (after she tried to kill 11 and showed off her power a bit) and her and Eddie fall in love or Eddie falls first.

Sorry if it’s long

This was actually so fun and I loved writing the Death character. So if anyone else loves it, feel free to request ( once they are open ) for more death reader. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Death was inspired by Rio from Agatha all along, won't lie. But the Death character is NOT Rio. If that makes sense. Just don't think Aubrey plaza is the reader because she's not, just was an inspiration so I wanted to give the credit to that.

Lady Death

"I FUCKING hate these bats," Steve growled. Nancy sat on her knees as she tried to cover Steve's wounds.

"What the hell is this place?" Eddie asked once he caught his breath. All he knew was that he jumped off a boat and was in a hell pit.

"The upside down," El said. She was looking around, almost like she felt the presence of something no one had seen yet.

"Oh great, so I have to fight to survive in the normal world, and now I have to survive in this sewer-type place? And this girl has powers?" Eddie asked frantically. He knew somewhat of everything that was going on, he just didn't believe it was a real place.

"Dude, I've already told you all of this!" Dustin argued.

"No offense, kid. But I figured you were full of shit!'" Eddie spat.

"Guys! Quiet," El demanded. Everyone went silent as they looked at her. She closed her eyes, trying to feel what was wrong. "There's something here," she whispered.

"Yeah, flesh-eating bats!" Steve hissed.

Before anyone could say anything, El was flung across the ground.

"EL!" Mike shouted, running over to her. But before he could come in contact with her, she was evaluated into the air. The gang watched in horror as she seemed to be held up by her throat, by an invisible force.

"What's going on?" Robin panicked. Nancy worked faster to clean up Steve.

The sound of someone whistling filled their ears. The gang all turned to see a woman walking towards them. She was dressed in a skin-tight green bodysuit, holes on the sides that showed skin, a green crown on her head, and a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

Everyone stared at her in fear and awe. She was incredibly beautiful, but nothing alive behind her eyes.

"Poor little El, not so strong anymore, huh?" The lady mocked, she flicked her wrist and El fell to the floor. Mike raced over to her, this time able to collect her body in his arms.

"Who are you?" El asked, panting as she took air into her lungs.

"She's Death," Eddie said in awe. Everyone looked at him shocked, how did he know who she was?

Even she was surprised. She was fast, appearing in front of Eddie in seconds as she gripped his neck. Eddie tried to cover up the fact that he was incredibly turned on by her harsh touch.

"Who are you?" she questioned, Eddie blushed under her studying eyes. She took in every inch of his face, something about him was familiar.

"Edward Munson," he choked out. The gang didn't move an inch, staring at the two.

"How do you know who I am?" She released his throat to allow him to speak. She flicked her wrist and everyone in the gang was thrown to the ground. They were stuck, not able to move a muscle.

Eddie was a little scared, looking at his friends and some people he barely knew trapped under her power.

"I've read about you. You collect souls, right? El was supposed to die from Vecna but she escaped. Unfinished business and now you have to finish her," Eddie explained, "am I right, Y/N?"

Y/N stepped away from the boy. She felt uneasy that he seemed to know everything. No one was supposed to know who she was until she took their soul, of course.

With her distracted, the gang ran over to El. El was quick to use her own powers, sending Y/N in the air and harshly crashing into the ground. Her head hit the ground with a thud and her body went still.

"LET'S GO!" Steve yelled, the gang nodded and all ran to make their escape. Eddie went to follow but when he took a look at Y/N's limp body on the floor, he stopped.

"Eddie, come on!" Dustin said, gesturing his hands to show that everyone was leaving.

"We can't just leave her," Eddie argued, against his better judgement he walked towards her.

"You said it yourself, she's Death. I think she's capable of handling a bump on the head," Mike sassed. He was annoyed that Eddie seemed to care about a stranger that was more than willing to kill El.

Eddie ignored Mike's words, kneeling down as he rolled her body over. There was a gash on her head, blood running down the side of her face. Eddie didn't have anything on him to help, but he ripped the end of his shirt and tied it around her head. He watched as his white shirt began to stain with her blood, but he didn't mind.

She couldn't die, he knew that. But he wouldn't feel right leaving her behind with no help at all.

~~~

It's been a few days since the encounter with Death, and she was in everyone's head ( just for different reasons.) El thought of her as a new enemy and most of the gang were terrified to know they were that close to Death.

But she was in Eddie's mind for a different reason. When he was younger he loved reading about death and what happened in the afterlife. He learned what death was, who death was. She's been around for centuries but never aged. Still the beautiful girl, who lost her soul too young.

Eddie often felt a connection to her. She didn't have a family, or any friends. People were scared of her, banished her, leaving her alone for years and years. She was like Eddie and Eddie was just like her. He was alone and banished in his own way, but they had much in common.

He couldn't leave her behind because he understood the pain of being alone. The pain of everyone running away, terrified. He wanted her to feel cared about for once.

Something about Eddie humanized her in a sense. She hadn't felt anything in her body since she died. She didn't feel emotions, her heart, not even her lungs. But when she was near him, touching and seeing him, she felt a beat in her chest. A flutter in her stomach.

Her body felt alive

She was able to trace where he lived from the property of his shirt. She carried the blood stained shirt in her hand as she walked through the woods, looking for his trailer park.

She felt that same beat in her chest as she walked past a small trailer. Random chairs in the front and an ash tray by the door. She walked away, the beat in her chest decreasing. With furrowed eyebrows, she walked backwards, the beat increased.

"Well look at that, having a heart is good for something," she scoffed, turning in the direction of the trailer.

She didn't knock, using her powers to fling the door right off the hinges.

Eddie was brushing his teeth when he heard his front door slam a wall.

"Shit!" He swore through his foamy mouth. He figured a big gust of wind blew through the door but when he came out, he saw Y/N standing in his house. His toothbrush hung from his mouth as he stared at her in shock.

"On-mf-e-sec-mff," he said through the foam. He turned and raced back in his bathroom to spit out the paste and rinse his mouth. He jumped when Y/N appeared behind him.

"Um, hi," Eddie said, staring at her reflection. She stood tall behind him, peaking over his shoulder. Her hair was down, framing her face. She was in her death clothes, the tight bodysuit making him gulp.

"You gave me this," she spoke bluntly. She held his shirt, hanging from her fingertips. He turned around and grabbed the shirt, tossing it to the floor.

"Thanks for bringing it back," he smiled. She flinched as she felt her heart race. But recovered with a smile.

"You're welcome," she said, turning around and walking out. Eddie followed, confusion on his face.

"Wait, where are you going?" He asked, moving to cut her off. Her body slammed against his and she stepped back. Her face stone cold.

"I dropped off the shirt. That's all that needed to be done," she said. Eddie frowned, thinking about how the only time she's in someone's presence is to kill them.

"Hey, you know you can be around people for fun, not just take their souls," the comment sounded like he was a dick but he was genuine about it. He closed the door and moved to his couch, patting the seat next to him.

She eyed him, moving cautiously and sitting next to him. "Well, thank you," she smiled. "And thank you for helping me."

"You don't have to thank me. I promise my friends are kind people, they just had to fight for their lives a few too many times," Eddie sadly laughed.

"You haven't?" She asked, Eddie could feel her eyes. He turned his head to look at her, trying not to get lost in her eyes.

"I have, I just understand how it feels to be the one that's left behind. I've studied you my whole life and you're not as scary as the books made you seem."

Y/N was in awe of the softness he showed and offered her. She couldn't remember when was the last time she got to be in someone's company.

"And by far more beautiful in person," he said, softer and quieter than before. Her heart fluttered and she felt her skin getting warm.

She felt shy, moving her head to hide away but his hand reached out. She jumped slightly at the feeling of his hand on her warm cheek. The eye contact felt intense, like she was in a trance and unable to look away. She didn't want to anyway, she wanted to stare at him all day long.

"You know, since you brought back my shirt. I think I owe you for your kindness," he whispered. Her stomach flipped as a small smile formed on his face. His perfect pink lips stretched as his white teeth were on display. She turned her head to the side, questioning him.

"You hungry?" He asked, "for food not souls." He clarified. She couldn't help but giggle at his words.

"I could eat," she smiled. He smiled back, standing up and grabbing her hand. He was prepared to go right out the door but then he stopped.

"Would you maybe feel more comfortable in..uh-" he stuttered, still feeling the effects of her suit clinging to her body and showing off her figure. "Comfier clothes?"

"What are the options?"

~

"Steve, if I hear you moan and bitch about the bats one more time, I will cut you myself," Robin threatened.

"I'd like a little support here! I could've died!" Steve argued. Nancy laughed to herself as the two began to argue. Jonathan had his arm thrown around her shoulder, looking down at the menu.

Eddie walked in, his hand in hers as he looked around for an open table. He was shocked to see Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan at a table.

Steve looked up and his eyes locked on Eddie, and then the girl next to him. Eddie gave him a small wave but turned the other direction, leading Y/N. They sat at a table, with her back to his friends.

Steve raced over to their table, he wanted to see if his eyes were seeing things. But as he made it to them, his eyes were right. Eddie was holding hands with Death.

"Can I talk to you?" Steve asked, his eyes on Eddie.

"One second," Eddie said, softly kissing her hand before he let go.

The two huddled over to the side, Steve whispering harshly.

"Are you insane?"

"She's still a person!" Eddie argued

"She's a killer, Eddie. You can't just get sucked into her looks. She's evil."

"She's not! It's a job. She doesn't kill randomly. She only goes when she's called. There's some human inside of her, I'm going to bring it out. She just needs someone to show her" Eddie explained.

"You are going to risk yourself and all your friends because you want to find the human in her?" Steve scoffed, "I don't believe there's any human in her," Steve looked over at the table. She sat drumming her fingers as she twirled a knife in the air with her powers.

Eddie sighed, knowing she wasn't helping his case.

Steve noticed a look in Eddie's eyes. He was desperate and he had this soft look when his eyes cast over her.

"You fell for her already, didn't you?" Steve chuckled. It was nice to see Eddie had a romantic side to him. Steve remembered the feeling of falling in love for the first time.

"Yes," Eddie sighed. "Which I know is crazy but trust me, she came to my house and do you know how easily she could have killed me if she wanted to?"

Steve sighed, he nodded his head. Sometimes he hated being a good friend.

"Well," he puffed, landing his hand on Eddie's shoulder, "Enjoy your date. And the gang will need to hear all about it."

The hand that was on Eddie's shoulder was suddenly ripped off. Steve cried out as his arm was bent backwards behind his back and slammed into a wall.

"Y/N!" Eddie hissed, taking her body off of Steve's.

The rest of the gang looked at the commotion, fast on their feet to run to Steve.

"Sorry!" Y/N said, a look of shock in her eyes. "I felt something burn in my body and lost it."

"From what?" Steve asked, his eyes huge as he sassed the girl, who he now noticed was dressed in Eddie's clothes.

"You touched Eddie," Y/N shrugged. She wasn't exactly sure herself.

"What's going on?" Robin asked. Quickly looking Death up and down, which didn't go unnoticed by Eddie. He snapped his fingers and Robin looked at him.

"Well," Steve said as he rubbed his arm, "looks like Eddie and um Y/N here are on a date."

The gang were shocked, not sure what to say.

"And she's the jealous type," Steve added through his clenched teeth.

"I'll stop by later and talk yeah? I'd like to enjoy my date," Eddie said as he slipped his hand into hers.

"Uh sure," Nancy said, still giving the two a weird look. Jonathan kept quiet, but he was just as confused.

The gang walked back to their table, Robin looking over her shoulder as the two sat back down.

"How the hell did he manage to swing her? She's way too hot for him," Robin scoffed.

"Oh little Rob, we'll get you your own little Death lover," Steve teased.

~~~

Within a few months, Y/N was around more often. She was glued to Eddie's side whenever she could be. Eddie loved it. He loved always having someone on his arm, and he wasn't mad about the kisses that were always placed on his skin.

The gang accepted her, a little on edge at times but she was mostly harmless. It was clear that the two were head over heels for each other in their own ways.

The times she was called to do her work, Eddie waited in his trailer. His heart warming when she appeared back within minutes, claiming she missed him.

Then she'd slide in his lap, Eddie's hands landing on her hips. He rubbed his thumb against her skin, thankful for the holes in her suit. He was guilty of getting hard whenever he saw her dressed in her suit. She was Death so of course she was mean about it. Rocking her hips against him as she slowly kissed his lips.

She was his and he was hers.

Who knew Death could make someone feel so alive.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[butlervibesonly]

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜 || Austin Butler

• Summary : Austin is training for a new role, and he has to be fit and formed, and he asked Y/n to be his company. But who would have thought seeing his girlfriend workout make him crazy?

• Pairing : Austin Butler x female! reader

• Warnings : making out, I think?

• Note : Yo, you see what I see in that photo up there? THESE BICEPS I'MMA GO CRAZY 😩

You don't consider yourself someone who hits the gym everyday, but you don't hesitate keeping your body fit, but who would have thought you and Austin would go on a random Wednesday evening to the gym? You guys are spending time in New York as Austin's getting ready for a another movie. He has to have a toned body and big muscles for this role, and you like that idea.

So you both decided to go the gym. It's around 7pm - you two decided it'll be better to go this late, so that there are not too many people. You’re not quite as enthusiastic, but his infectious energy convinces you to give it a go.

You start with some stretches, and Austin's already making you laugh, giving you tips with an exaggerated, “trainer” voice. “Alright, we’re going for a deep stretch,” he says, showing you a move with a grin, “and make sure to breathe. Just follow my lead.”

"Austin, you're no trainer, stop!" you laughed at his seriousness. Austin stands back up from the stretch and smirks at you. "Then pretend, baby," he says. He is so cute and funny, as he's trying to be so serious.

After the stretches, Austin suggests doing some cardio he's used to from his coach, and you try to keep up, but soon you’re both out of breath, laughing as you push each other to go faster.

"Do you wanna try the dumbbell?" he asks after a while. It certainly wasn't something you would refuse, but you would need help. "If you care to help me," you grinned and Austin nodded. You took the dumbbell and the weight quickly hit your body.

"Hold it tight and steady. Try to pull it towards you and down again." he says, his hand on your back. He watches you for a while, and he can't take his eyes off of you. There is something about seeing the way your body moves.

You're more focused on lifting the dumbbell correctly and properly, but you notice how his eyes are literally glued to you. You cant help but smile. "Watcha looking at?"

"Uh, I- What did you say?" Austin stutters, being brought to reality. He then quickly moves to you to help you put the barbell down. He stands behind you and his arms slipping around your body. As Austin puts it down, his arms wraps around your waist

You can feel his breath on your neck, as he kisses you. "Austin," you put your hands on his. But that's nothing to interrupt him. He turns you around to face him and pulls you closer. "You're so beautiful," is all he says before crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss is passionate, almost deep. He doesn't resist it and his hands travels around your body. Thankfully, you're here alone. "Austin," you say again, breathlessly. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours.

“Okay,” he admits, “working out with you is definitely more fun than solo sessions.” You both laugh, taking your stuff and heading to the changing rooms. “We should do this more often,” Austin says softly, his voice a little gentler now.

"Well, only if you manage to behave." you give him a playful nudge, but he pulls you back in, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before leading you out of the gym. This definitely turned into something else, but you're not complaining. Also, how even could, right?

[rabidlittlestrawberry]

I really did try to do this in the tags but I had too much to say.

I know this conversation has been had a lot recently, but I feel like it’s so sad, because it sours all the gorgeous work we are all doing here, because let’s be honest, nobody would have the connection they have to this media or these characters without us all here making beautiful queer media that is MILES better than the original. And that gives us all this deep emotional connection to it that we wouldn’t otherwise have. Which is beautiful, except when it is lining jkrs pockets, because we are not a small group, we are definitely large enough to be considered when making new media, when buying and selling rights, when deciding what merch to sell. And then it becomes something that is not ours but our fault.

When I joined fandom I thought there were some rules, like, don’t buy and sell fanfic, don’t critique/ rate fanfic, don’t give money to jkr. And sure, individual people do all of those things all the time, but we have to agree as a community what we are going to have conversations about to keep our space safe for everyone

And listen, we all do it. We’ve all done it, but with this reboot, I feel like we can change that. We can say no, we have that power, no matter how small.

So, let’s show them that they cannot buy us with the pretty white boys, that they cannot make something even half as good as we can make ourselves. and that we have no interest in lining the pockets of someone intent on taking people’s rights away. I will be so fucking proud of us

If you are still on the fence, I will leave you with this tweet from Joanne herself, because she doesn’t care if we are making her art queer, as long as we keep paying her while we do it.

As we are all being reminded recently, art is political, and none more so than this.

"andrew and ben are up to something!" "atj played atyd he's up to something!" "calling it now, they've been cast!"

well i would hope NOT actually, marauders fans stfu about the reboot challenge

[kryptznnn]

Can't get this off my headdd!! Katsuki having a partner with a snow leapard quirk that gives them the appearance of ofc a snow leapard and also have like an ice quirk?? How would he react to that? You can write it on how you like I just want to be fed😋😋

♡- Different

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

➸ INTERESTS; -mha! katsuki bakugo x f! quirk using reader

➸ BACKGROUND; - (requested submission) Fascinating was probably the best word to use for you when describing what you were. For Katsuki it was perfect, you were perfect, it's as if there were so many great qualities your quirk had given you his curiosity had grown into affection. He hadn't mind watching and studying you from afar, but when he felt a distance come between you two, he took action.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc. 1.5k, fluff, romantic tension, observing lover, indecisiveness, romantic confusion, kissing, friends to lovers' kind of trope.

➸a.i; - I know this is short and im so sorry ugh, i really enjoyed writing this though, I hope you enjoy it!!

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

Maybe his peers were right about you prior to getting close with you. He had heard about you, your features and your quirk being the reason why you seemed that way. He knew your features and personality sounded familiar as someone from his past, but when you walked into his class, he knew exactly who you were.

Y/n L/n, he had known you prior as a child, before you had moved away after being bullied for your quirk and appearance. He never hated it though, he always found it appealing. He had always been drawn to you out of curiosity by it, looking like an exotic animal.

The way your eyes flashed with different colors, popping out as the black lining around your eyes was sharp, your inner corners and waterline dark. He could tell you had applied some makeup to hide majority of the spots and patterns that decorated your face, but he didn’t like it.

He liked being able to see your entire face, and for the most part as he knew your quirk had been in effect for as long as you wanted. As the patterns took effect onto your skin it hadn’t changed the fact that the word snow within snow leopard was literal, also able to control it.

Overtime the two of you went from exchanging small glances in class to actually speaking to one another, as your friend groups clashed. He was happy to say the least, and his friends could tell from how he acted around you. Katsuki was quiet and focused on what you would do, treading carefully and even doing as much to not curse around you, making you laugh every time.

He never really liked looking into your feline-like eyes, it felt as if he was falling into a trap or unknown territory. Even if it was something simple as you waving or smiling at him with your eyes he would look away, his head resting on his hand before smiling softly. His favorite thing about when you would laugh, or smile because your canines would poke out and your ears would flap around.

He took into deep account everything about your physical appearance, studying the way you talked, walked, and even fought in battle. He couldn’t deny you were very flexible and strong, let alone when you used your ice type powers within practice.

What he wasn’t fond of was the fact that it seemed your relationship with him was becoming distant as you began studying with Todoroki. He understood why the two of you were close and had no other reason to study with one another as you shared similar quirks, but the feeling didn’t sit right with him.

He felt as if he was running out of time with you before things had even properly begun. He cherished the small times you two spent together alone, hoping you felt the same way. The times everyone would go out as a group and the two of you trailed behind as you spoke of everyone else, good and bad. He would say or do anything to make you laugh, seeing your canines or how your patterns crinkled slightly up to your eyes, you looked pretty-

No, you looked beautiful to him. The same type of way he watches his parents interact with one another and his father showers and serenades his mother with compliments such as ‘beautiful’ or ‘gorgeous’, maybe even ethereal. He was never sure on how to show you or tell you the way he felt, or the way he wanted you to see yourself how he did.

He had always thought that repeating the same things his father did was cringey, and how you spoke of cringey stuff all of the time there was no way he could set himself up. It seemed as if it was suicide if he even thought of doing so, so when he mustered up the courage to tell you it had apparently been too late.

You cancelled on him last minute as you were supposed to train with Todoroki, again. As you always had nearly twice a week every day for the past 2 months. It drove him insane truly, he hadn’t liked Todoroki any better beforehand and now it seemed to have gotten worse. Even when you all hung out as a group you were quick to speak about what you had practiced or learned from him.

It had kept everything within Katsuki to not cause a fuss and blow up in everyone’s faces, literally. He would just leave without explanation every time, going out and taking a breather before going straight to his room and going to bed. The best part of him was that everyone knew he wasn’t going to just give up or forget about you, one thing he loved more than being stubborn was a fight, and it wasn’t hard fighting for you if he knew he was set to win.

So, when you made it known to him you were free for the day and had nothing to do, he nearly jumped out of bed. Quickly getting ready and damn near sprinting out of his room, making his way to yours. Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath before knocking on your door.

He was nervous, for some odd reason, he never had been before, not for anything. So then why was he so nervous when it came to you? You were his friend, as he was yours, and he just wanted to tell you how appealing you are to him and that you were very nice. Friends don’t do or say the things he wishes to do or say to you though, silly him or not knowing that already.

You were quick to welcome him inside, opening the door fully as you stood at its side from inside as he made his way inside. You ushered him to the small decor you had in the center of your room past the bathroom, a large fuzzy carpet for the two of you to sit on. You were quick to speak first engaging in conversation between the two of you. He had barely answered, only taking in your figure and body features as you spoke.

When you were speaking about something you were passionate about you spoke quickly, your tail moving rather rapidly behind you as your ears never perked lower. You would speak with your hands too, as if reliving the moment as you wanted him to understand it better.

He thought to himself he must’ve looked crazy just staring at you while nodding, not even smiling or laughing at your remarks. He was focused on your words and actions yes, but he was also thinking about what he was going to say to you. Thinking to be gentle and sincere with you when he began until you began to speak of your training with Todoroki.

“And it was so funny because he fell and-“

“You talk about him a lot.” He deadpanned, now cutting off your statement as he really didn’t want to hear any further of him. You stopped and looked him in the eyes now, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s my friend, and we train all of the time with one another.” You said, now looking away at Katsuki’s intense eye contact. You weren’t used to it in all honesty, usually he was quick to pull away or look away from you, now things had changed.

“I’m your friend too, right? Do you talk about me a lot too?” He asked, his hands planted behind him as he sat with his legs crossed, his eyes never leaving your as he moved in closer. You backed your head away slightly, taking in his subtle flirty tone and looked away, your ears flattening slowly as your lip perked to the side.

“Yes” you said in a hushed tone, now looking down into your lap as your tail had remained still, the patterned prints and thin fur on your face now being tainted with a shade of pink. He took in your expression with a surprised look, as he had never seen this expression before.

It must have been embarrassment, or maybe you liked him. Whatever it was he wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass, as now seemed like the perfect time to do what he wanted too. More like what he needed too, it was like a nagging feeling in his stomach and chest telling him too.

Without a second thought as you picked up your head he leaned in and kissed you. After a couple of seconds, he pulled back, looking at your shocked expression. He was going to apologize, but as he opened his mouth a split second later you had already jumped back onto him, kissing him back.

His hand was quick to make its way to the center of your back, giving you support as he nearly toppled over. You soon broke the kiss after he had kissed you back, looking at him with a large smile, your canines showing.

"I think you're a lot more to me than just a friend."

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

[itspileofgoodthings]

Also it’s really fascinating because in a certain way Austen finds the trope of redemption through romance/good girl fixes bad boy dead but in an even realer way Henry is just the wrong candidate for it. Or, to be even more accurate, the setup of Henry and Fanny is the wrong match for it and that’s what makes it funny. The truth is that Henry objectifies her, NOT physically. His appreciation of her beauty is hands down the most romantic thing he feels for her but he objectifies her morals and her goodness, in essence: her character. He, and in a different but equally real way Mary treat Fanny like a doll and every time she does something of quality they react with surprise and delight as if a doll had done it. The fact that the surprise and delight are genuine makes it worse because it’s even more objectifying. They’re like “look at the doll speak! The doll said something incisive and profound! The doll doesn’t even know of what quality she is made because she’s so simple! Noble simplicity!” And it is objectively condescending and—not to beat a dead horse here!!!— truly objectifying. They both see and sense her superiority to the rest of Mansfield but that doesn’t mean that they treat her like a person. Henry makes much of her, refuses to listen to what she actually wants, enlists Sir Thomas against her, feels no scruple whatsoever about putting pressure on her, and doesn’t know her well enough to know that she does “know her own mind” despite not knowing her own manner. He’s also the wrong candidate for this trope because he’s too knowing and observant. He KNOWS he’s in the trope. He’s kind of like “hmmm Fanny redeeming me, Fanny changing me, wow, love to consider it from a moral aesthetic point of view, what a flower in her cap that would be and how it would stick it to the rest of the Mansfield crew” and so he’s not set up to be surprised or charmed into compassion and real love 1) because he’s self-aware of the good it would do him and 2) because he gets ahead of the good by manipulating it for his own schemes. Alleviating boredom/sticking it to Mansfield and co. being the two main ones for as far as I can tell. He even knows that if he just waits, if he just holds out that “absence, time, and distance,” as he says, will speak for him. Will clear his way. Will work on Fanny’s heart. Because it IS a powerful trope for a reason! And especially if Edmund was out of the picture re: Mary what else would there be for her to do? But that’s the thing. He SEES the truth of it and sees the inevitability of it but only because he’s thinking of this in terms of winning—winning her, but also just winning at the scheme, pulling the con. True love doesn’t do that. The absence, time, and distance of which he’s speaking would be enacted by someone with a loving heart in such a different way because it would just be the simple act of compassion and not wanting to trouble the beloved that would be the motivator. It would be Darcy going back to his normal life after the Hunsford proposal with no intention of winning Lizzy back or determination to pursue her or need to clarify anything past the letter but still with love in his heart for her. Henry doesn’t have that love and never did and so cannot be changed by it. He plays the stakes of it all like a game and because Fanny isn’t playing it at all he loses, in every possible way.

[youling-the-ghost]

mornings with him – a ditch ficlet

Derek found comfort in his strange yet endearing morning routine. word count: 800

A ray of sunlight peeped through the curtains and cascaded itself onto Derek's bed, jolting him awake. The clock on the wall indicated that it was 6 AM. Derek groaned and dragged a hand down his face, cringing at the stubble that covered his chin—he felt like a teenager, all gangly limbs and awkward changes to his body that he hadn't quite grown accustomed to yet. It was comforting, in a way.

Derek sat up—or at least, tried to sit up. He almost succeeded before a pair of arms dragged him back into the bed, snuggling him into the pile of blankets and pillows. Derek let out a muffled cry of protest, but the arms didn't relent.

"Love," Derek said, the words buried in an airy laugh. "I need to make breakfast."

Titch groaned and leaned his body onto Derek's so that there was basically no space between their bodies, nestling his face into Derek's neck.

"Breakfast can wait..." he murmured. "I'm cold."

"It's August," Derek deadpanned. To be honest, he was overheating in Titch's arms and the blankets.

When Titch showed no signs of letting go, Derek sighed and resorted to his contingency plan; he grabbed the arms that held him hostage and pried them open, which proved to be quite a difficult task—despite what his stature might suggest, Titch was incredibly strong.

In the sliver of time that he bought himself, Derek lunged forward and dove out of the bed, landing on the wooden floor with a soft thud.

Titch mumbled some nonsense, incoherent and jumbled by a half-conscious brain, in protest. Derek planted an apologetic kiss on Titch's cheek and ruffled his blonde hair, which had a golden sheen from the sunlight that peeked through the curtains.

Derek snuck one last glance at his lover, whose face smoothed into a tranquil expression as he presumably returned to dreamland, and found himself smiling. He had come a long way, both of them had. It felt like just yesterday when Titch was lighting candle after candle, refusing to sleep until the first crack of dawn peeked through the night.

Derek grimaced at his reflection; his hair was sticking up in every direction, and he was in desperate need of a shave. He patted his hair in a vain attempt to school it, but the pile of curls immediately stuck back out again. Derek sighed in defeat and decided that he'd bother with his rebellious hair some other time, instead shifting his attention to everything else that needed fixing.

Shaving was something that caused Derek intense annoyance and euphoria in the strangest of oxymorons. The act itself was tedious, and if he had the option to, Derek would absolutely choose to never have to pick up a razor again.

But in a way, the razor in his hand and the shaving cream on his face represented progress that he never thought would be possible. It was a symbol of his growth, his comfort in his own body, which was beautiful despite all the tediousness.

Derek flinched as an improperly-angled movement caused a shallow gash across his cheek. He could do without all the blood that he had drawn in the process of learning this strange aspect of manhood, though.

The shaving cream washed off his face with a splash of water and Derek dragged a hand across his now-smooth skin. It felt like velvet between his fingers. Derek smiled. He was proud of himself.

The pink apron was an essential part of the cooking process, and this was only partially a joke.

Strangely enough, all of Derek's best and fluffiest flapjacks were made while he donned the frilly baby pink apron that James got Titch as a joke for Christmas one year. It was a strange phenomenon that was difficult to explain every time someone asked why he was working in the fields while wearing something that looked like it belonged to a Barbie playset.

Lost in thought about aprons, Derek barely noticed the arms that snaked around his waist.

Derek chuckled. "Good morning, love," he said without turning around. "So you finally woke up, huh?"

"Mornin'," Titch mumbled into Derek's shirt.

Sometimes it was hard to believe that the Titch currently clinging onto him like a koala on a eucalyptus tree was the same standoffish, emotionally closed-off Titch that he was first introduced to years ago.

Derek didn't bother shrugging Titch off. He didn't mind the physical contact; he quite enjoyed it, actually. The two stayed like that in silence, with the only noise in the room being the ambient sizzling of the pan and whirring of the range hood.

"I love you," Derek said as he placed a finished flapjack onto a plate.

"Yeah."

Derek knew that it was Titch's way of saying, "I love you too."

[ryololart]

Tex Losing Her Legs

Tw: childhood trauma, gore, trauma in general, angst

My head is woozy, I can feel the blood draining from my forehead. It falls like rivers of red making paths down my cheeks to my chin where it drips off like a waterfall. Stars explode in front of my face. They cry and sing out for me, but their words are sharp and prick my ears. The sparks shine, coating my face in ash and dust making my eye itch and water. I try to stretch out my arms but they are limp to my sides. I am a phoenix rising from embers but forever cursed to wallow in her grave. It is sort of  beautiful to be stuck in such a state, unable to do a thing but watch as the world swallows me whole. 

“Up! Up! Texas let’s go,” the star's sorrowful plea is strained and exhausted. My mouth opens to say ‘I can’t’ but I have lost the ability to, instead a groan escapes. The sound does not appear as it has come from me, the pitch not familiar. The normal rasp is not equipped, instead it is wet and desperate. The dark around the stars becomes shaky. The once opaque landscape is translucent, colors shifting and changing behind a curtain. I can see time passing me by as I sit, unable to perceive the change. 

I heard a story once, about a man who lost connection to the International Space Station. He was on shift to repair something on the outside and his tether was not attached correctly. He floated out into space for three hours before someone was able to rescue him. He describes the incident as one of those life changing moments, where you realize everything is finite. One day you are at the top of your physics program, and worried about the upcoming test, the next you are with your family cheering that you got into the NASA Astronaut program, and then you are floating off into space, alone, in silence, where nothing matters. You look back at Earth now, from way above, no one knows that there is a man just floating above the atmosphere. Is that what God feels like? To just watch from above as patterns shift and change? This is what I imagine he felt like, time running away, no way to calculate how long it has been. No way to tell the people in your life how much you love them, no way to look back at all the things you have done in pride, no, you just drift away, empty, watching forever. God must be lonely.

I hoped that death would be like falling asleep after a long car ride and your parents carrying you to bed. You try to hide the smile that shows you did it on purpose to be carried, to feel the love that comes from that unspoken devotion a parent has to their child. The warm hands that could not be mistaken for another embrace your skin, unbuckling you from the seat. The being is so careful to climb up the stairs and to not let your creaky bed door ring out. Those same hands tuck you into bed as the body they belong to whispers a soft good night like a lullaby. 

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” the stars scream again, this time in the form of people. Their hands grip my shoulders as lights shine in my face. Not like the beautiful show from before, now like bombs going off overhead. The stars explode and shriek, bursts of color here and there. It overloads my senses and I feel myself sinking further into my grave. All the sudden you are not floating in space anymore, you are running with everything you have left to give.

Death is like a march to the finish line, not the gentleness of a parent’s love. Not the soft warmth of being carried home. No. It is the  pop of the gun that goes off before you are ready to run. The heart starts racing, the mind is on overdrive, the fight to survive flowing through your blood in the form of adrenaline. The lungs gasp for air, trying to climb out your throat to reach the oxygen, no amount that you gulp down makes a difference. There is a sitch in the side that is unwelcome telling you time is up, give in. Just give in. Yet the body keeps going, the perfect machine, determined to win against nature. 

“Evangeline,” the glaze that was once over my eyes evaporates into the air and I see the first familiar thing, a pair of dark gray iris’s pouring into mine. “Do not look down.” 

A pair of gloves that appear to be bleeding before me tilts my head up, completely disorienting me once again. I want to close my eyes and go back into the comfort of my dark escape, but my body is running the race, forcing myself to acknowledge the world. I try to let my lungs expand to open to the world but I choke on something thick and boiled. I try to spit, pushing my lips together but the muscles scream at me to stop moving. I give an involuntary cough at the uncomfort in my throat and my body lights up like a christmas tree. Every single nerve explodes into fireworks, expanding and contracting, trying to connect with the sky by reaching up into the atmosphere. Yet they stay trapped in my body, paralyzing me.

There is someone else there, I can feel his movements in the sensory receptors that is making up for my lack of awareness. He keeps my face tilted up towards his and I can hear sounds coming out his mouth but they do not mean anything. The gibberish is not familiar but his voice, so rough and brutal as I am used to,  is instead sorrowful and desperate. Something is wrong, I know this, but I crave the comfort of being unknowing. I choose that it is okay in this moment to accept that I will never see that starry night my brain made for me, I will only ever see the smoke clouding the ceiling like a mirror reminding me of my state. 

The pain fades for a second as I take my first breath and what must have been hours. I can feel the shakiness of my chest as it expands. My skin is hot and wet and I can’t grip onto anything. As my conscience awakens I frantically try to take in my surroundings. Gray cement floors. White walls now painted in abstract red. Black-covered bodies run in the room. As the relief floods the pain returns and I gasp loudly. The cough comes again, harder this time and blood follows out my mouth. It is sticky and warm, coating my chin and the hand holding up my face. 

“How much longer, Roach?” He exclaims, using his thumb to wipe the blood away.

“I need another minute, we gotta set what we can or we may lose half of her.” Roach yells back. That is when I realize I can’t feel below my waist, all the pain that is shooting through me is only from there up. I managed to look as far down as a can, only to be met with Roach’s body crouched over my legs. Or what seemingly remains of them. 

My hand flies up to grip Simon’s vest and he catches it reflexly. I look at him in shock trying to remember how to breathe, my legs, they are just masses of blood. My boot is twisted backwards on the right side, my left is bent at the femur. 

“No, Evan, stay with me. You are in shock, we are going to get out of here.” He holds my hand bringing it to his masked face. All my thoughts scream however, you are stuck, you are stuck, you are stuck. Suddenly I am no longer in the Karoknoze Mountains, I am in Sanderson, Texas.

 My childhood bedroom was characterized by lead paint and mold. The walls were a pale pink that was chosen by my mother. She was so excited to have a daughter, finally, after a boy who caused her so much trouble. Mason got in so much trouble, whether in school with other kids and teachers, or with our father. All my mother wanted was to raise a baby girl, a child that was one of her kind. One that would have her back and be on her side no matter what. The love between a mother and daughter is like no other, they are intertwined from birth. A daughter is the soul captured when it left her mother, the soul that is fighting over and over to remain innocent, however, all souls only exist to be corrupted.  It is the deer in headlights, trying to move, but stuck, in ever revolving hell. The car keeps coming and coming, yet you watch in awe, the lights are so beautiful. Let them come and take me, I’d rather bathe in this unforgiving light than live this light of fight. Women fight every single day to just exist peacefully, and every day it gets harder. Every single mother and daughter suffer the cycle, bending time in hopes that the original sin will be forgiven. However God is considered a Man. Men are not friends of women. The daughter carries her mother’s sins to try to become anew, to only suffer the same fate with the best of intentions. They are doomed. The door knob that has been broken off so many times twists and makes a horrible sound. 

“Mason, you are in the wrong room,” My 14 year old body sits up as I watch from the back of my mind. My thin, thread-bare, white tank top starts to fall off my shoulder as a small hand, worn and torn, pushes it back up. I can smell the drink on him, the alcohol writing over the damp smell that always sits in this room. I call him again as he opens  the door fully.“Mason.”

“Hola, Princessa,” He takes a swig from the bottle that swishes in his hand. His wife beater stained brown from the excess he indulges in. He tries to go for a Spanish accent but fails miserably, I’m not sure if it is the drink or the fundamental lack of ability. It is ultimately impressive that he cannot speak Spanish when he spends more time in Mexico and dealing with the Mexicans than in Texas.

“Mason, go back to your room.” My body sits up against the wall pulling the covers up with me. Fear is stricken in every joint as they creak and groan with the movements. I feel frozen physically, my bones molded together with metal. His heavy footsteps made the floorboards scream as he entered my room, the light from the window forcing a shadow behind him.

“I have missed you sister, you are always gone when I’m home,” His words slur as he approaches the bed. A hand gripping the covers, pulling against my own strength. My face quivers like a doe, his body just one big light. “You owe me little girl.” 

His bottle falls onto my bed as a knee breaches the soft blanket. I swing my legs over the side and my feet touch the floor as his hand lurches out, grabbing me by the face, my mouth covered in its wake. I scream but no one is here as he pulls me back. I am stuck. I am stuck. I am stuck. 

Then the door opens again but this time it is another beast with its own lights, however they are worn and dim. The lights speak to each other as I raise my hooves to his hand and let my teeth bite down as hard a possible. Blood sprays my face and he jumps back. I hit the floor and get to the window, pushing it up, and make my escape. Just as I get outside a bottle hits the window and the glass sprays everywhere. I gasp and hit the hard floor of the desert before limping out into the darkness, not bothering to check behind me.

Before  I can realize I am being pulled across the cement, the gentle hand that is holding my face has left me. Instead I can feel someone else’s reach under my back and pull me up. I try to rip myself away with the little strength I can muster but only a fool tries to run on broken legs. I am a horse to be shot for sure. I am no longer useful. 

Then I see the glint of the sunglasses in an already dark room, the shine of a gun being forced into my hand, a tap on the side of my face that only means one thing. Get home. When Roach realizes I am no longer fighting him he wretches me up and over his shoulder. I lay limply there, just my torso making contact with his strong body. My fingers squeeze my gun as I keep my eyes on the back of his heels. He pats the side of my thigh and he moves quickly and precisely. The hallways zigzagged like a maze. It’s all shaky, hard to perceive. Colors and lights dancing in front of my eyes as we make our escape. 

[georgiapeach30513]

Peach! Mrs. Pasta here...checking in for the second time in a few days!

Normally I just lurk in and smile to myself when I see your posts and banters with your followers. But tonight I just couldn't resist...

Ramen, bless him, is getting really good at the non-specific, vague-turnaround, deflective answers to personal questions! I'm impressed.

Also...Nobody keeps their hands more to themselves than Ramen does when he's around a lot of salty things. Is he on a low-sodium diet? Is that why he exercises such great self-control when it comes to these things? TBF, he's very gentlemanly when it comes to being around women, especially costars/colleagues.

I can see (most) people on here are either tired, upset, tired, over it, or a combination of both. I can understand that, especially for the mods that run these blogs. I notice that for a lot of people, separation of professional and personal for their favorite celebrity can be a difficult task. I don't blame anyone for feeling that way, it can be hard to "not think about THAT" when you just want to enjoy "THIS". I will say this though.

Something I have found time and again to be true, is that IF something/someone/someplace is meant for you, things will fall into place. If something is NOT meant for you, no matter what you do, things tend to fall apart. You can try and put it back together, but then something else falls. This has happened to me personally recently, where I was in a situation where I wanted to make something work because I thought I had no other choice and I didn't really want to rock the boat further and go searching for something else. Unfortunately, the more I tried, the more I compromised and kept on staying, the worse it got. I'd fix one thing, another would break. I'd get over one hurdle, another inconvenience would pop up. Finally, I decided to take matters in my own hands and started actually listening to what the universe was trying to guide me towards. It was very hard for me to do this, as I'm more of a logical/rational person, than a spiritual one (I don't really like reading signs or feeling energies to tell me what to do)...But I tried a different approach, and started asking the universe, "If this isn't right, what should I do?" And I would listen and wait, and then tangible things would happen, and then I started making different decisions and taking different approaches. Almost immediately, things started changing for the better. I'm in a much better place now (figuratively and literally).

Just some food for thought: Let things play out. They will. And hindsight is always 20/20. Think about it. I believe Anne's blog has a library that can be helpful for those interested. If all else fails, keep coming to Jen's blog where she posts stories, baking, and general hilarity to keep everyone's spirits up. You are truly a beautiful soul, Miss GeorgiaPeach! <3

Mrs. Pasta! Welcome back. Clearly, your presence has been much needed this past week. Which I do say that there is a reason one shouldn’t consume too much sodium. I suppose were all bloated, and now need to fast.

Ramen is quite smart. He’s playing it coy and vague, non-definite answers. He’s doing good, despite a quick facial change with some questions. It’s funny to watch.

For someone that is quite a gentleman and claims to love PDA his hands do seem quite to himself. But it is a family movie after all, wouldn’t want to be too obvious, I suppose.

I think a lot of people are tired, and more so tired of ongoing arguments that suck the life out of the fandom, much like an overly salted diet. So maybe it’s just the influx of salt that has everyone red in the face? But this is why I implore anyone to curate the space that you want. Filter tags, block blogs, unfollow blogs, create the space that you watch to see with personalities that jive well with your own.

The universe is quite a tricky lady. She usually makes way for things that are for you. Usually when you try to fit a square peg in a round hole, you’re met with resistance. You can sit there, and smile you’re doing it, but others around you will eventually be able to see that you are in fact creating a bigger problem with an impossible task. I’m glad you were able to get to a better place once you listened, and were aware that what you’re forcing isn’t for you.

I do think that hindsight is 20/20. There always seems to be something poking around that pops up at the last minute. Eventually things either fall into place, or you’ve created a big mess. @anneslibrary is a great well of information. And of course @annislittleshopofhorrors herself is a peach in her own right. You are a beautiful soul from the inside out as well, Mrs. Pasta. Take care, and never feel afraid to pop on by when you can.

[honimello]

Was It Worth It?

[dinopant]

Gonna watch doctor sleep, jerk off and forget im lonely

[salsflore]

ummmm

[qqqqqqqqqqq0]

[toyotacorrola]

like holy shitttttttttt. fuck i ran out of space in the tags