#they also turned against jesus for telling the truth

[belle-keys]

And what if I said Bryce and Hunt being mates makes way more sense than Cassian and Nessian being mates ever did?!

[felixknow]

Hi! Can you do Hyunjin 39

39. "I moan your name when I masturbate."

gn!reader, not edited, drunk hangout, truth or dare, poorly written bc we're just playing around and having fun ok let's goooooo

“Channie, truth or dare?” Felix asks, breaking the momentary silence in the room. Chan chuckles and puts his phone down, stretching his arms over his head and his legs out in front of him, letting his lithe body form a line as he slides down the couch cushions and onto the floor.

“Mm… dare,” he settles on.

“I dare youuu… toooooo…” Felix drawls, trying to think of something good. “Send a selfie on Bubble and say ‘oops, wrong chat’.”

Chan chuckles while Seungmin scoffs.

“Good one,” Seungmin says.

“The hardest part is going to be finding a selfie to send them,” Chan says, picking his phone back up. A few minutes later, after the messages are sent and the boys have a good laugh at the reactions coming through, Chan puts his phone away again.

“Is it my turn to ask then? Y/nnah, truth or dare?”

You startle and scoot a little closer to the group. You’d been sitting to the side, mostly keeping to yourself since half the boys had gone out to pick up dinner, including the two who tied you to the rest of the group in the first place.

“Um, truth.”

“Are you nervous to be around us without Hannie and Minho here?” He smirks and you scrunch up your face like a kid who’s being teased, because that’s exactly what it feels like.

“And so what if I do?” you playfully retort. “I just don’t want to make a fool of myself. Also, it’s a little odd being left with my friends’ friends before we in this room have become friends.”

“You don’t think we’re friends?” Felix asks, giving you a dramatic set of puppy dog eyes. “I think we’re friends, Y/nnie.”

“I think we are too, Lix. At least I hope so!”

The game continues on for a couple more rounds until Han, Minho, and Hyunjin come back with dinner and alcohol.

“Let’s make this a party!” Han cheers, and Minho rolls his eyes.

“You’ll be drunk in half an hour, jagiya. Eat your dinner first at least.”

Han bashfully responds with a “yes, hyung,” never quite the fan of being called a lightweight.

Han’s not the only lightweight in the room, though.

“Oh my god, we should play truth or dare again,” you say excitedly, an hour after dinner and several shots in. “Hannie, we played truth or dare earlier! We should do it again! Truth or dare?”

“Dare!!” he responds excitedly, matching your bubbly and drunk-dazed excitement.

“I dare you to get Minho to kiss you.” You giggle, while Han whines.

“Noo, that’s the worst because you know he will! He’s all over me at home, I can’t get a single night’s sleep without him trying to give me a bedtime kiss first!”

“Someone has to tell you goodnight and sweet dreams, otherwise you’ll have nightmares,” Minho says simply. Then he smirks as Han turns toward him. “Now come here and give me a big, juicy kiss.”

“No!” Han exclaims, struggling and squirming, trying to push back against his roommate’s chest as the stronger of the two slowly reels him in. The group gets a good laugh in before Minho finally wins out and plants a kiss to the corner of Han’s mouth.

“Ew,” Han says over-exaggeratedly, wiping his mouth, and Minho rolls his smiling eyes.

“Your turn now, Hannie. You ask someone.”

“Okay. Changbinnie. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Put on the underwear I got you for your birthday,” Minho quips.

“Hey!” Changbin shouts, ever so easily worked up. “It’s Han’s turn to dare someone, not you! Stop being a creep!”

Minho laughs hard, throwing his head back and cackling until he has to turn and lean on Han for support.

“Ignore him,” Han says. “Changbinnie, I dare you to take two shots back to back.”

“Jesus,” Changbin scoffs, widening his eyes. “Damn. Okay. Someone’s annoyed he isn’t the only drunk one,” he says, watching as Jeongin pours him a drink. One shot goes down. Then a second one, less smoothly.

“This shit is disgusting. Alright, husband of mine. Truth or dare?”

“Hm?” Hyunjin sits up, rejoining the group. He’d been laying down on the ground, somewhere between food-coma and introvert’s recharge. “Truth.”

“Are you crushing on anyone right now?” Changbin asks, smirking. Hyunjin scowls at him, and the two make a show of switching expressions, trying to make the other laugh. Changbin winks cheekily, acting cute, and Hyunjin huffs and pretends to gag. Changbin makes kissy faces and holds up a heart to his cheek, and Hyunjin rolls his eyes and bluntly says “no.”

“That’s so not true,” Chan chuckles.

“No to Changbin. Yes to the question.”

“Damn,” Changbin sighs. “My husband is cheating on me.”

“Never, baby. You know who I go home to at the end of the night.” Hyunjin winks at him, finally play-flirting back, making Changbin and several others laugh.

“Okay, okay. Y/nnah. Truth or dare?”

“Hmmm,” you hum, long and drawn out. “Truth.”

“Didn’t you do truth earlier?” Seungmin asks.

“Yes, soooo?”

“Sooo.” Hyunjin draws out the syllable, thinking of something to ask. “Oh! What were you doing when you butt dialed me that one time?”

“Huh?”

“You butt-dialed me! Didn’t I ask you about that? I think it’s because you were doing something but you were saying my name, or something like it. I just heard, like, shuffling and your voice a little and I was like, ‘hello?’ and you didn’t answer so I hung up.”

Your face is burning in embarrassment by the time he’s finished his spiel. 

“Um… Dare…”

“Noo!” several of the boys chant and insist. “You can’t change your mind now!” Jeongin says.

“Answer the question!” Minho insists.

“Yeah, I’m curious now,” Han agrees.

“I really-- I can’t--”

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin says, shrugging. “I told Changbin about it and he said you could have been having sex. I thought maybe you were looking for your lost phone or something… until you moaned.”

“I WHAT?!”

The group laughs, Han and Felix both turning toward you and hugging you.

“Ohh, Y/N. Don’t listen to him, he’s just messing with you!” Felix insists.

“I never said that!” Cahngbin insists. “He’s joking, Y/N, I swear. Please don’t be embarrassed. Guys-- stop! Don’t laugh!”

“It’s okay, it’s fine, I’m totally fine, I’m totally not about to die of embarrassment or anything.”

“I really was kidding,” Hyunjin says, bowing all the way to the floor in front of you. “I’m so sorry! Please forgive me. There was no moan. I just thought it would be funny!”

“Please get up,” you laugh, patting Hyunjin’s shoulder. “It’s fine, really. I could tell it was a joke,” you lie. “You’re a dumbass, though, by the way.”

The group bursts out in laughter once again, and the night moves on, the incident almost forgotten, until…

The night is winding down, the group is cleaning up the mess they’d made, putting Chan and Jeongin’s furniture back where it belongs, cleaning dishes, taking out the trash.

You pass Hyunjin in the hallway as you’re leaving the bathroom, and he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm.

“It was what I thought it was, right? When you called me.”

“What, the phone…? Yeah, I was, um… looking for my phone,” you say nervously, unable to meet his eyes.

“No, not that… you were… moaning.” His gaze locks onto yours and your heart feels like it’s going to drop out of your ass.

“Well…maybe…”

“So you think of me? When you play with yourself?” He asks so quietly you almost don't hear him. You can only nod to confirm.

A slow smirky smile grows on his face.

“Call me next time. You don’t have to play by yourself, if you don’t want to.”

[sanguineterrain]

restroom attendant | jason todd

Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.

A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)

the divider

Tonight sucks. 

With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years. 

Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.

You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you. 

You’re starting to think this city is cursed.

The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.

A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily. 

Yep. Definitely cursed.

"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."

He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress. 

"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor. 

"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”

“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”

“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"

Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs. 

"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."

Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper. 

Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.

“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”

“No,” you say, voice shaky.

His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”

Red Hood gives the room a onceover. 

“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails. 

“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” 

“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse. 

“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”

Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet. 

“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”

“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask. 

Hood jerks, turning back to you.

“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”

You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”

He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers. 

“How come?” Hood asks.

You shake your head. “It's nothing.”

“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”

“I'm not in danger. I…”

You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.

What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry. 

“I got dumped,” you say. 

“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”

Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.

You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”

You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.

“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”

“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling. 

“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach. 

“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.

Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”

You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles. 

Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”

You catch your breath and wave your hand. 

“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”

“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”

You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.

“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”

You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”

“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”

“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face. 

“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”

Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.

“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”

You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”

“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”

You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”

“You’d win that bet. But I—”

The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you. 

“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”

Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.” 

He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”

Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”

He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit. 

You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you. 

Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.

“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.

“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”

“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”

He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper. 

“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”

Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.

“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”

Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes. 

Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in. 

You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.

“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu. 

“I didn’t order this,” you say.

“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.” 

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.

[artist-issues]

Christians, start talking about why homosexuality is a sin. Stop avoiding the topic. If we can’t talk about it with people who disagree with us, it only says something untrue. It’s just a sin, like all the other sins. It’s just a twisted desire, just like all the other twisted desires. “Such were some of us.” It put Christ in the cross, it condemns the person who sells their soul to it to eternity without Him. Don’t make it any less or any more than that by avoiding the topic. The Bible doesn’t treat it like a taboo topic.

Honestly so many people are deconstructing or dropping away from the faith because they don’t know how to be loving and talk about how the Bible is right when it says homosexuality is a sin. So they don’t talk about it, but everyone who disagrees with the Bible does—so no truth is coming in, just lies, and no wonder that one thread unravels the silent “Christian’s” whole faith.

Because listen, listen, marriage is a picture of the Gospel, and love is Christ. So when they twist those two things, and you decide they’re right, everything else falls apart because they’re all connected.

So yes, it’s too not-special-at-all, just another twisted desire, for you to be afraid to talk about it. But it’s also too important to know the truth about it, and replace the lies about it, for you to be silent about it.

Just tell ‘em it’s like every other sin. Your desires are twisted and you can either choose to identify with them, or you can submit them to Christ and identify with Him while he untangles the desires. You can be god of your own life until it’s time to spend eternity without Him, or you can admit He’s God. That’s it. By making it “special” you’re feeding into the lie that homosexuality is some special, unique, sacred part of a person’s psyche that has to be treated as such. Even if you’re against it. No, it doesn’t. The Gospel conversation is the same, whether the sin they embrace is homosexuality or not.

You want to be with someone of the same gender romantically, sexually? Well, I want to turn my car wheel into oncoming traffic. The difference between me and you is, I agreed with reality—my life isn’t mine, so my desire to end it isn’t right, and I won’t live by it. I’ll give it to the God who made me. You, on the other hand, aren’t there—yet. You’re still living out the lie that you were made for you, and every passing twisted desire that doesn’t line up with reality is your governing authority.

But the answer is the same. Jesus took the punishment for me, and you, committing cosmic treason against the loving God who made us to be god, ourselves, and twist up the love He invented us for. He took the punishment for all that, and He can straighten out the scoliosis of your soul. The answer’s the same. So why’s the conversation taboo? Because Barnes & Noble put a whole celebratory bookshelf out? Because Instagram shows you reels of people wailing when it’s brought up? Get over it. Stop treating people who celebrate their sin like their sin is more powerful than whatever sin Christ saved you from.

[2btheanswertothequestion]

(part 3 of November Paramedic; part 2 is here.)

When Gareth mentioned a plan to locate Eddie’s paramedic in shining armor, Eddie assumed it'd be him getting into various accidents all over Indianapolis. It's something the little shit would've found funny, okay! But, Gareth's plan is much less hazardous and slightly more logical: lurk around the university until they spot him. Like a pair of drug dealers trying to tempt the goody-two-shoes protagonist into addiction and sin on an 80s Saturday morning cartoon.

It's not the simplest task since they don't know when Steve might be there. Also, other responsibilities mean they can only spare so many hours loitering. So, thirteen days post-hatching plan and nineteen days post-meeting Steve (not that Eddie's been counting or anything), with nothing to show for their ethically questionable behavior, Eddie is ready to give up. Especially since both of them have a rare simultaneous day off. Usually, those are spent jamming, smoking, playing D&D… literally anything other than this.

"This is fucking stupid," he says, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "We're not gonna run into him."

"Sure we are," Gareth says. He drops his butt among the dozens they've chain-smoked and lights another without meeting Eddie's gaze. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."

"The only thing you're feeling is delusional. It's time to give up."

"Eddie, c'mon-"

"Nope." One last drag and Eddie stomps out his cig. "Fuck this; I'm out."

He stalks toward his van at the far end of the parking lot. Gareth curses before running after him.

"Dude!" he exclaims, jogging to keep up with Eddie's longer strides. "You can't just give up! What about what you said-"

"I was being stupid. What was I even imagining? We orchestrate another meeting and, what, I use my freakish wiles and seduce him? And then we'll live happily ever after…" Eddie shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that. He'd probably turn out to be a douche anyhow."

"No, listen!" Gareth seizes Eddie's arm and yanks him to a stop in the middle of the lot. "You always do this. Self-sabotage and cut things short, even when there's potential."

Eddie scoffs. "You know what else always happens? I end up liking them more than they like me. It's not fun."

"You don't know it'll be like that this time. You have to try."

"No."

Eddie takes a step back. He's done; he's out. Gareth reaches for his wrist to pull him back in. He jerks away, almost losing his footing and stumbling into the burgundy car behind him. Gareth's arms shoot out to help, but Eddie steadies himself before crashing. For a second, silence reigns as they assure everyone's on solid ground. Then Eddie opens his mouth to once and for all-

"Eddie? Gareth?"

Their heads snap to the side, eyes landing on… Max? Looking unusually dressy in high-waisted shorts and a fitted top under an oversized jacket, and her hair in a high ponytail. She's got her skateboard under her arm, a messenger bag with a textbook sticking out, and a confused furrow between her eyebrows.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

Fuck. They can't tell her the truth – she'll never let him live it down. Fortunately, Gareth realizes this too, because he says:

"Uh, I go to school here? What are you doing here? The math building is way over there."

She rolls her eyes and leans on the burgundy car. It's a shiny BMW M5 – the limited anniversary edition. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie almost dented that thing! It's worth more than his life. And Max is slouching against it like it's nothing. He could warn her not to scratch it, but she's unlikely to care; she's always been metal that way.

"Waiting for my friends," she says. "We have dinner on Tuesdays."

Eddie's ears ignite. Dinner? With friends? While wearing what's basically a date outfit?

"Ooohhh…" he says, sharing a grin with Gareth. "And do these friends include someone special?"

She shrugs, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, Red! You're killing me! I need to know if he's good enough for you."

His fingers hover over her ponytail, as if to tug at it. She slaps his hand away.

"You're annoying."

He laughs. This terrible day just became infinitely better. He won't rest until he gets what he wants – or until she punches him, which'll probably come first. He's about to tell her so when a voice calls her name. Both turn to look, and…

It's a boy Max's age. He's beaming and waving, quickening his steps toward her. She smiles too, almost shyly, as she waves back. It's the perfect opportunity for teasing, if Eddie's day hadn't just become infinitely better.

His tongue is heavy, his skin is itching, his heart is bruising his ribs from the inside. Sweat is gathering in his pits and it's getting a little hard to breathe. Because walking half a pace behind the boy, carrying a huge duffel with such ease it might actually be stuffed with feathers, is… is…

"Yesssss!" Gareth hisses next to him. He may also be fist-pumping. Eddie isn't looking.

"Hey!" The boy stops in front of Max. "Sorry, practice ran late."

"It's okay," she says, cooler than ice, though her eyes are glittering. "I just got here."

She says something else, or maybe the boy does? It's all background noise, because Steve has caught up. Steve, in jeans and a polo that must've been tailored to his exact measurements because oooooooooohhhh boy. Steve, unshouldering the bag, muscles shifting and straining under his shirt with the movement. Steve, smiling, his golden eyes flying over Eddie.

"Hey! Eddie and Gareth, right?"

Eddie draws a sharp breath. He remembers!

"Y-Yeah!" he squeaks, hands fluttering to either wave or shake hands, ultimately doing neither. "Hi! You're here!"

"I am," Steve says, casual, as if inane conversations with former patients happen on the regular.

(It better not – Eddie doesn't do well in competitive settings.)

Max, keen eyes darting between them, asks, "You know each other?"

"Met at work," Steve says. "Or, I was working and he…"

"Ah." Max taps her temple. "That."

"How do you know them?" the boy asks her.

She points at Eddie. "Neighbor. And that's the guy who dumpster dives outside our apartment building."

Gareth flips her off. Eddie would laugh, but he's busy pretending he doesn't know what Steve looks like shirtless. It's hard (pun slowly growing more relevant) – his gaze keeps dropping to the polo's undone top button. Steve is just as gorgeous out of uniform, and now Eddie's thighs are tingling with want. He could stare at him forever…

Unfortunately, 'forever' is cut short by a woman arriving in a flurry. Wait, no. 'Flurry' implies some sort of graceful whimsy, while this person… she's a hurricane crashing into a house.

"Sorry I'm late! Nielsen wouldn't stop talking and got angry when people started leaving because it's an important lecture so this girl called him out for not keeping time because he goes on all these tangents and he said they're interesting tidbits and she said it's disrespecting our time and-" She pauses for breath. "You don't care, do you?"

Max, Steve, and the boy shake their heads.

"Right. Sorry." The woman turns to Eddie and Gareth. "Hi! I'm Robin. And you are?"

"My neighbor and his friend. Steve treated his concussion," Max rattles off, glaring at them. "You didn't answer my question: why are you here?"

Gareth frowns. "I told you," he says, pointing at the building. "School." He points at himself. "Student."

Max glares harder. "You don't have class on Tuesdays. And Eddie doesn't go here at all."

"I had stuff I needed to drop off."

"Is tagging along a crime? Jesus."

Max doesn't reply, though her glare remains.

Robin hums. "Okay, so this is super-enjoyable, I love just standing around, but I'm starving, so…" She looks at Steve, who nods.

"Yeah, we're going," he says, but neither moves. He glances at Eddie, which makes her glance at Eddie, and then they make a series of eyebrow-movements at each other, ending in a shared smile. Steve asks, "Have you guys eaten yet?"

Eddie shakes his head, pulse racing. Is this going where he thinks it is?

"D'you wanna come with? There's this diner we like…"

Holyshityesitis!

"Yeah!" Fuck, too eager. "I mean, uh, sure, sounds good."

"Cool." Grinning, Steve clicks a remote car key; the burgundy BMW beeps. What the fuck? How high is a paramedic's salary?! "Did you drive here?"

"I, uh…" Eddie falters. Shit, wasn't he supposed to? It's been three weeks and he feels fine – he thought he was in the green!

"Nope! I did!" Gareth says, 'proving' it by hauling his house keys from his pocket and jingling them.

Steve nods. "Should be safe for you to drive again, but the less strain you put on your brain, the better. Even a mild concussion isn't anything to sneeze at."

"Y-Yeah, I've been taking it easy. Basically done nothing. Until now."

Max snorts. Eddie is going to pour coffee through her mail slot.

They decide Eddie and Gareth will follow Steve's car to the diner, since Steve can't fit all of them (the real reason he asked if they drove here, duh). It's good because Eddie gets the chance to panic/gush/collect himself in the privacy of his van. It's bad because Gareth drives, lest their fib be revealed. Gareth spends the ten-minute journey gloating about driving Eddie's beloved girl, interspersed with 'I told you so!'s.

The diner is cozy, all wooden furniture and sepia photographs on the walls. A graying waitress who smells like tobacco directs them to a booth and takes their orders. An awkward silence then falls as they wait for someone to speak.

The boy clears his throat. "My name is Lucas, by the way. I don't think I said." After shaking his hand and introducing themselves, Lucas says to Eddie, "I think Max has mentioned you."

"Oh yeah? I've been dying for her to mention y- Ow!"

Eddie rubs where Max kicked his shin. Her glare is murderous. Lucas is blushing happily, though.

"So, what d'you guys do?" Robin asks.

Right. Time to small-talk like adults. Eddie gets his job as a mechanic out of the way, then gives the word to Gareth, who tells them he's a creative writing major. Robin turns out to be getting a masters in linguistics and Lucas studies biology.

"I don't actually know what I want to do, but biology feels broad enough to give me options, y'know? I can go to med school, or forensics, or, I don't know, paleontology?" he says. Max glows brighter with every word that comes out of his mouth. Cute.

This then segues into talking about their friends, who by the sound of it lead incredibly interesting lives.

"Dustin's at MIT, Mike's at Oxford, Will's in San Francisco…" Lucas says, counting on his fingers.

Max interjects, "El's in Africa building houses and teaching kids English."

"Erica is still at home, finishing high school and drowning in early acceptance letters to, like, every Ivy League there is," Steve says with a look of pure pride.

"Nancy and Jonathan – they're our age – are chasing scoops in Afghanistan… " Robin says.

"... and Argyle is also in California," Lucas finishes.

Eddie whistles. "And here we are, still in Indianapolis."

"Dude, I'm surprised I got this far," Steve says. "Wouldn't've managed without her."

He jerks a thumb in Robin's direction, who preens at the acknowledgment. Robin's cool, Eddie decides. Garrulous but fun and nice… and verrrrrrrrry close to Steve. The kind of close where they're always in each other's space. Where they wordlessly transfer food between their plates. Where Steve unceremoniously wipes a speck of ketchup off Robin's chin after she repeatedly fails to get it. They're comfortable, but not necessarily romantically affectionate. Like they're siblings rather than lovers.

(Dear God, if you are in heaven, let them be siblings.)

Conversation flows. They joke around, tell stories, swap opinions. Robin gets passionate about tonal shifts when stage shows are adapted to film, and Eddie tries not to stare at Steve's mouth as he eats. And then, once their plates are cleaned and they're waiting for dessert, Gareth leans his elbows on the table and fixes Steve with a purposeful look.

"I figured out where I've seen you before."

Eddie stiffens.

Steve blinks. "At campus, right?"

"Thought so, but no. I realized it's actually…" Gareth chuckles. "It's ridiculous, but uh, my mom had this calendar…"

Steve recoils, red flooding his face. Robin, Lucas, and Max shriek in delight, Robin grabbing Steve's arm and shaking it as he hides behind his hands.

"And my mom," Gareth says between bursts of laughter, "she's shameless, all right? She kept it in our kitchen. So during, what was it, November?"

"November," Steve confirms, muffled.

"For 30 days, if I wanted to check the date or make a notation… I saw you."

Tears stream down Robin's face, she's laughing so hard. She and Max have started chanting 'Slut! Slut! Slut!' at the still crimson Steve.

"You don't understand," Lucas says, gesturing for emphasis. "We've been waiting for someone to come up and say 'hey, weren't you…?' for years. Thank you so much!"

"Hey, thank my mom," Gareth says. Eddie's quite stunned he'd throw his own mother under the bus like that. She's a really nice person, too!

"Makes sense," Max says. "Moms love Steve."

"All parents do," Lucas says.

Cackling, Robin pinches Steve's cheek. "Gotta hide your mom and your dad around Steve!"

Steve bats her off, flushed but smiling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You got your wish, now shut it."

That only makes the three restart the chant to ridicule him for his harlotry. Steve's indignant squawk that 'it was for charity!' merely has everyone laugh more.

And Eddie? Well. As he sits beholding this man who works as a paramedic and drives a luxury car, who models for charity and allows his friends to mock him for it, who blushes and giggles when they lovingly call him a whore…

All Eddie can think is that he's in fucking trouble.

Afterward, it only makes sense for Eddie to drive Max home. Steve shakes his hand outside the diner, saying it was nice to see him again. Eddie, not knowing how to ask for Steve's contact info without seeming weird, agrees. He waits until the BMW drives off, then tells Gareth to get the fuck out of his seat. Gareth relocates to the backseat, whining since Max already called shotgun.

The initial minutes, they're quiet. Then Max turns to Gareth and says:

"When were you telling me Eddie is your mom?"

"Huh?"

"You said you knew about the calendar because of your mom. But that's not true."

The warmth drains from Eddie's face; his knuckles crack around the steering wheel. Gareth's expression is the epitome of 'oh shit' when he meets Eddie's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"Yes, it is," Gareth says.

"It's not," Max says.

"It is!"

"It's not! The calendar was for 2021, and in November '21 you were a freshman and had already moved into the dorms! If your mom kept it in her kitchen, you wouldn't have seen it!"

She scowls at Gareth, mouth pinched and eyes flashing, daring him to contradict her.

Gareth swallows thickly. "It… wasn't for 2021."

"Yes, it was."

"How do you know?"

She puts her hands in her lap and lifts her chin, almost primly. Eddie gasps as the penny drops.

Gareth screams, "WHAT!"

"You have it?" Eddie cries. "Why do you have it?"

She scoffs. "You know why – you've seen his pecs."

"I don't- Okay, how're you so sure it's me?"

"Because you spent all of dinner looking like you wanted to crawl inside his mouth and live there." Her nose wrinkles. "At least I hope it was his mouth you want to crawl into-"

She's cut off by Gareth shouting "I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala-"

Eddie crumples in his seat. He's depleted of blood, air, life, everything. Behind, Gareth is grilling Max for information: are Steve and Robin together? Is Steve single? Is he queer?

Max replies: no, yes, and 'that's not for me to tell, moron'.

Gareth nods, satisfied. "That means he is. If he was straight, you'd say so." He slaps Eddie's arm. "You got a shot, man!"

"You… don't know that…" Eddie wheezes.

Max tuts, shaking her head. "You actually want to hit on my chauffeur."

"He prefers the term 'seduce'," Gareth says.

Eddie smacks his face into the steering wheel at the next red light.

------------------------------

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @olivethenerd16, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll,

I won't be adding more to the tag list because there are already so many of you. Instead, I'll be tagging the four remaining parts (it'll definitely be seven in total, btw) as #steddie fic: november paramedic. Hopefully, they'll show up in the tags and you'll see them that way.

Thank you for reading 🖤

Part 4

[tarredion]

I’m gonna put my thoughts in tags but here is the summary:

The coffee theory doesn’t make sense, azi has religious trauma and is being manipulated because the metatrons presence is intimidating a n d he knows more about what aziraphale actually wants to make happen (peaceful existence, running away is not the solution for either of them) which means aziraphale says and does things here that is both his own thoughts and heightened because of what the metatron claims he can make do (things which he obviously won’t be able to do, but still)

Crowley is also not good at communicating at all, or doing what he knows will work - he keeps asking azi to run away which he doesn’t wanna, he also waits outside even though he clearly should have gone in to get him again, which is what he wants, but he does Inaction instead of Action

Azi needs things explained to him or else he won’t break out of the toxic cycle, which Crowley failed to do (talk), and the metatron is just a physical presence of that

There’s a reason in s1 he still goes against the plan when the metatron is not physically there, and when the archangels aren’t around to discourage him, but here he not only lets the angels in but can’t really do his own thing

Also, it’ll all end with a garden. A garden is, in essence, an earthly thing. A thing of humanity. Azi is still too tethered to heaven to become fully human- to fully stay on earth where he has to be with crowley. He needs to go where he shall not be to realize how and how much he needs to not keep being tethered

I have so many more thoughts but these are some ideas

(Like rogue metatron and gods ineffable plan and the return of previous characters and why azi isn’t the right one to meet them)

OK.

One i thing keep obsessing over is how Azi without a second thought first declined the promotion. His instinct was to decline the offer until he was offered this.

This was what changed his mind. Reforming heaven was not even a point until he was talking to Crowley.

But what's bizarre about this is that if his reason for accepting the offer was Crowley rising why did he still go to heaven on his own.

Azi's decision has more depth than what we are seeing here I feel. Reforming heaven was not on his mind as a thing initially and Crowley refused to join him as well but he still went.

I just can't figure out his reasoning here at all. Any meta girlie's wanna have a go on this?

I could be just over thinking and Azi just didn't realize what the offer meant at first.

PSA : DO NOT MENTION THE COFFE THEORY. LET CHARACTERS BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR ACTIONS

[cillyscribbles]

munkuposting (metastrap?) for the jellinclined (i am so sorry)

you tell me i'm insane but i know my truth and my truth is that munkustrap wants to help her. he wants to reach out and help her up like he just helped jennyanydots during her song. he leans down and it's not just so he can look at her better. it's not just cause there's no point to his defensive stance here except for her to see, for him to communicate she's unwanted, and he knows it. shit dude the guy can't look her in the eyes for longer than 5 seconds.

like come on. munkustrap's running after old deuteronomy and the rest of the older/less agile cats so much in this goddamn film he might as well be Munkustrap the Mobility Aid Cat. man knows what he wants in life and that's going on as many walks with senior citizens hanging off his arm as physically possible and neither god nor the heaviside layer will stand in his way.

his responsibility's a whole different thing, though. look at the lad puffing up when grizabella shows up. that's a guard he uses against perceived threats like macavity and it's well and warranted then, but what in the name of ye olde cat gods is the old lady gonna do? garbage stink them all to death? it's performative as hell on purpose. both of them know she's not gonna jump him and he doesn't need to protect himself or his fellow cats from her physically.

in the macavity scares, odd as it might look on a person, The MunkuStance™ is a genuine threat. he's up above everyone else or he's one of the few cats on the stage, he's spreading himself out to look bigger, he HISSES lmao.

look at the lad. hissssss lmao i love him.

not only is he saying i won't hesitate bitch he's also establishing himself as The Guy You Fight. if you're an outsider looking in, you're probably not gonna notice Mr Mistoffelees Scampering Through The Pipes Again, but you sure as hell are gonna see the Snarling Tabby Fresh From Hell hopping around in the middle of the stage with his legs 16 kilometers apart at all times. and okay, doing that for the entire musical sure is a Choice, but it's a Character Choice, and mr michael gruber the man you are. the star that you are. i want to send him flowers and chocolate and a card. i would greatly like to do that.

with grizabella though? jesus christ she's about as threatening as a patchy sock. it's not even his first instinct to go Tall Big Puffy when he's trailing after her because there's genuinely nothing to defend against there.

he just sort of slowly stands into it as though he's forgotten he was supposed to be Protecting for a second. the stance, the threat, all that's only there to set a dynamic. it's there to say you're not one of us, we don't like you, please go away, but he's half-assing it so much it loses all its i won't hesitate bitch and turns into i have never hesitated so hard in my entire life. he still establishes himself as The Guy You Fight, but it's obvious grizabella isn't about to fight anyone, so now he's just The Guy She's Staring In Incredulous Longing At, and he can't even hold her gaze for long enough to pretend it's not getting to him because at his core he's not a bad person and he knows that all this is kind of a Dick Move.

this is what makes munkustrap so dummy god tier as a character to me. he may wish he could help grizabella. hell he may even want her back, if not as openly as old deuteronomy does. when all the cats scuttle away and turn their backs to grizabella before memory reprise, munkustrap never even fucking bothers ?? like he's straight up just watching her, and then later watching old deuteronomy watch her like with the most somber wee eyebrows up so can we finally do something about this expression i've ever seen on a performer lmao.

but that means nothing without the approval of the entire tribe! absolutely nothing! because munkustrap, in that regard, is exactly like old deuteronomy: what he wants comes second to what the jellicles want. it's harder to see in him because old deuteronomy is mostly up on the tire being cat jesus and munkustrap mingles with the rest of the ensemble way more, but it's really obvious when you look. they defer to his leadership, but he defers to their collective decisions.

he moves mistoffelees away from grizabella (just like the rest of the older cats) because mistoffelees doesn't know any better and grizabella is untouchable, but then he stalls and waits when demeter reaches out to her. like, i'm pretty sure he would've just let her touch grizabella right then and there. had demeter been a little less aware of the fact that this was the first 30 minutes of the musical, i'm pretty sure she would've just taken grizabella back in right then and there and memory wouldn't have even been necessary. munkustrap sure wasn't about to do shit about it.

he's actively leaning back to give her space!! (i know logistically that it's mr michael giving an opening for ms aeva to execute her Conflicted Scuttle Away but munkustrap is still leaning back however you put it so i'm right automatically. haw yee)

i'm fascinated by it specifically because this way it's almost as though munkustrap is an extension of the jellicle collective, if that makes sense. obviously he's the narrator so we can't give him a complex emotional storyline if we want to keep the aryas in single digits, but in turn this means that now he's a character who chooses to forgo his own feelings in favour of those of his community, and that's just, man, that's just. man. ca(s)t of all time for real. a guardian and a weapon and a storyteller and a teacher and not one of those for his own sake. Man.

tl;dr, old deuteronomy can be hella proud of his kid, and i can eventually stop crying. also here are the gifs of him finally getting to comfort grizabella a little. experience emotions with me.

unfortunately i have similar (if slightly less rambling) thoughts on tugger and why he's constantly being such a massive cunt to grizabella lmao. if you guys are unfortunate enough i may subject myself to the giffing and writing of that post too. toodlepip ✌️

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

every once in a while, i have an urge to sit down and write an entire essay about The Purge franchise, specifically through the frame of reactions from people who either have not watched the movies or watched them while pissing on the poor.

because oh my fucking god do those reactions send me into a violent tailspin of irrational anger.

"the purge doesn't make logistical sense"

okay so have you ever heard of fiction? the train in snowpiercer doesnt make logistical sense either. it doesnt have to because its a vehicle in which to tell a story.

"people wouldnt just commit violent crimes because its legal now."

no they wouldnt. do you know that the first movie takes place on the 6th purge? do you know that story about frogs and boiling water?

"no one would ever agree to this. politicians couldnt implement this."

yeah so the fourth movie - The First Purge - is actually a prequel that explains how and why it got implemented.

see as a result of a general economic crisis, a new political party called the NFFA (new founding fathers of america) came to power, and two years into their political term, they ran "an experiment" and that experiment was the purge. the first purge took place on staten island; residents were offered $5000 to participate which comprised staying on staten island and letting the government put a tracking chip in your arm. there was also the opportunity of making more money if they "participated further."

people didnt all agree with this. thats a whole ass thing in the movie and the protagonist literally leads protests against it. it is a controversial thing. the NFFA literally have a sociologist as the face of it, one who talks to news reporters and assures people she and the experiment are apolitical.

the experiment is also fucking rigged. the government really send in roves of neo-nazis to kill citizens as a way of showing how "successful" the experiment is. it was never an experiment.

"but why would people believe that the purge is a good policy?

have you ever heard of propaganda?

throughout the films, there are constant displays of the propaganda the NFFA use to keep the citizens believing in the purge.

the NFFA are constantly lying to the citizens about the actual truth about the country. they often talk about how the stock market is doing great as evidence of a stable economy. there are fake experts in white lab coats lying to you about the purge being a good idea.

these movies are not subtle. they tell you outright that the government is lying to the people.

jesus fucking christ, in the third movie, part of the plot is the fact that in response to corruption being revealed, people are turning against the purge and protesting. dante bishop is a goddamn anti-purge activist.

"crime rate year round wouldnt go down because of the purge, that doesnt make sense "

yeah no shit sherlock. thats literally a defining theme in the entireass franchise. the government is lying. they actually use the purge as population control because theyre fascists.

in the first movie, the NFFA claim the country is basically crime-free and that the unemployment rate is 1%. do you think james demonaco wrote that with the intention of you believing it to be true? have you considered that maybe you were meant to be like huh, thats suspicious?

the first movie is the least overtly political, but one of the defining themes is in regards to the performative nature of the purge and the way it is mythologised.

"all crime is legal. so what, can i commit tax fraud?"

the rules of the purge are made up of. the entire idea is performative. the NFFA are not beholden to these rules; if it benefits them (or if not doing so poses risk to them), they will arrest you for "crimes" you committed during the purge.

in the third movie, The Purge: Election Year, they change the rules because of the risk charlie roan poses to them. roan is a senator running for president on an explicitly anti-purge platform and there is a very good chance that she will win the election, so they revoke the immunity (its still illegal to murder them) granted to government officials during the purge because they plan to kill her.

the NFFA do not care what citizens do during the purge, as long as it is not threatening to them.

"how would they even know if you killed someone an hour after the purge ended?"

they wouldnt. they also wouldnt care.

see above.

"the purge is stupid. people arent inherently violent."

no. no theyre not. thats the fucking point of these films.

they are not subtle films. they come with a free portable toilet so you can watch them without pissing on the poor.

what did you think the plots of these movies were? if the movies were not directly engaging with the concept of the purge and what it actually means, what the fuck do you think the movies are about? do you think the movies are just 90 minutes of indiscriminate violence?

[stainedstardom]

Hey I would like to request a Chad x reader! There are very few and he’s like so underrated.

I was hoping for like Chad has had a crush on you since you’ve comforted him after losing his ex and you have always been there for him. So you and the and the group(tara, Mindy, Anika, Quinn, and Ethan) go to a party. At the party Mindy and Tara convinced him to tell you how he feels bc they know you feel the same(like y’all are obsessed.) so when he goes to find you, he see’s this random guy flirting and touching you. He can also see that your very uncomfortable and you tell him to leave you alone in the guy doesn’t listen. Soo full of angry and jealousy he walks over to you guys grab you by the waist and just kisses you harshly infront on the guy. And the kiss turns into a heated MAKEOUT session.

If you want you can turn it into fluff or smut it doesn’t matter!

YES YES YES, SECOND CHAD ASK. I LOVE YOU

SHES MINE

chad meeks martin x reader!!!

when chad lost her, he felt lost himself. like he was gone and never going to find himself and that's when you showed up, let him in and took care of him. he liked it, that's why he liked you. you cared and trusted him. you've been there for him for everything

including this stupid party, why were you here? why didn't you stay home in your dorm? oh I know why, chad. it was always chad, you would probably jump off of a cliff if he asked you too.

you stood in the corner as you sipped out of the cup that chad had handed you as you looked around, at least everyone else was having fun.

"jesus chad just tell how you feel" mindy told her brother who stared at you with heart eyes.

"what if she doesnt feel the same way?" he asked as he looked at mindy. they didn't see you stand up from the corner to get a drink but ethan did and so did another boy.

"you dumbass i can guarantee you she feels the same way, you should see the way she looks at you" anika said

"or talks about you, its so cute its gross" tara exclaimed and ethan smiled at her.

"okay yeah i can do this, the worse she can say is no right?" chad said as he hyped himself.

"yeah yeah now go get your girl" ethan stated and chad nodded.he turned as he went looking for you, he soon found you in the corner with boy. his hands were on your waist but you looked uncomfortable and like you wanted to leave

"oh come on, come with me" he said as he tried to bring you towards the stairs but you held your ground.

"no leave me alone, i dont want to go anywhere with you" you exclaimed and chad smiled softly. he was happy to see you defend yourself but it didn't last long

"oh dont play hard to get" the guy said, he wouldn't leave you alone. chad felt his hands clench and he didn't stop himself. you shoved the guys hands off of you as chad came over. he shoved you against the wall and put his mouth to yours. your eyes widened before you realized it was him.

you calmed down as you kissed him back and you felt him calm down too. his hands drifted down to your waist as he tugged your waist to his and you could feel his groin against yours.

"chad" you said into the kiss and he hummed only confirming the truth that it was him. you smiled as you ran your hand up to his hair and the other held his bicep. he smirked as he felt your grip tighten on his hair.

"jesus" the guy said and you two finally pulled away from each other. you felt chad remove his hand from your waist but he held your hand and kept the other on your waist as your other hand stayed on his bicep.

"i didnt know she had a boyfriend" he told chad and he laughed

"okay well , shes mine and she told you to leave her alone so walk the fuck away" he told the boy who stared at you. you didn't look at him, you wouldn't. you stared at chad in surprise,

"Im yours?" you asked and he turned to you once the boy left.

"youve always been mine and ive always been yours" he said and you smiled as you brought him in and kissed him again. he groaned into it but he held you close.

you were his and he was yours.

A/N: ugh chad, i want him so bad.

[dariwrites03]

Fucked up Monday. 2/3

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/daribertduck/748615753776955392/fucked-up-monday

A/n: Before you guys kill me; I’m already writing part 3. don’t you worry it’s coming your way. Please comment & repost, it’s giving me much motivation!

Summary: After Ellie kissed you on Patrol, everything was turning weird, you’re full of guilt and other feelings... What happens when your life turns from agonizing to better to so much worse? And why exactly can a few letters change everything?

Warnings: none? I think?

Taglist: @bready101 @lia-winther @liciapeonia @darkerstarsstuff @patricks-fabulous-face ( I tagged some people from my comments, hope that’s alright)

-5700k words

„And I thought I was weird for feeling uncomfortable at that, you know? They broke up, it's not really his place to say anything like that especially after telling Dina he's over her anyways" You're best friend said, finishing up her explanation of yesterdays event with Dina and Jesse. He found the two of them smoking near a warehouse and from what you made out of Ellie's explanation, he wasn't too happy to see them sitting so close.

You and Ellie were having another movie night, those happen pretty often. ( Every Wednesday, to be exact.) sitting on the old sofa in your living room with you're legs resting on hers. „Well, it's still fresh. Don't think he's jealous of the two of you spending lots of time together but maybe it's just a weird feeling seeing her with someone else, though there's absolutely nothing between you and Dina" you replied, chuckling at the thought of Jesse being all jealous over nothing. You rested your head back against the many sofa pillows, enjoying the comfy half sitting half laying position you're in. „Yeah.. totally" Ellie mumbled, looking down at her hands resting on top of you ankles, shifting uncomfortably. Knowing Ellie probably better than anyone else, you knew right away that something seems off.

„Wait.." you said,  sensing the weird vibe from you're best friend. „There is nothing between you two, right?" you said, lifting you're upper body into a more sitting posture. „Ellie?" you said her name as you're so called friend didn't answer right away. You felt you're heart stink, not really being sure of what's going on exactly. „uhm.. I don't wanna talk about it?" she said, looking at you with an apologetic look, making it sound more like a question than an real steady answer. „Hell no, remember our ‚no lying rule'?" you said. „Cmon we made that rule as we were 15, that's childish." she said while caressing through her hair, suddenly looking all exhausted. „It wasn't childish when I had my first kiss and didn't want to talk about it" You mentioned. Remembering the night you ran about 2 miles to Ellie's house after spending the afternoon with some other kids in the pub, playing some stupid games. After you kissed Sophia as you're truth or dare quest you took of running, straight into the arms of the brown haired girl who couldn't participate that nights event due to a cold. Ellie knew something must've happened and as you really didn't want to talk about it, embarrassed by the fact that everyone could probably tell you never kissed anyone ever before, Ellie set up a rule. *„Let's promise to always be honest, life is too fucked up to screw it up with lies"* you knew she was right and since that night you tried to always be honest to each other.

„Cmon that's totally different!" Ellie defended herself, crossing her arms above her chest. „Jesus, Williams, answer the fucking question and stop being difficult" you said with a light voice, feeling like Ellie was some deer that takes of running as soon as you're tone was slightly off. „I mean, there is nothing between me and Dina.. so" she explained and you could tell that She was satisfied with her answer since her shoulders became less tense. „But you wish there was?" you asked, not able to look at Ellie you decided to give you're hands something to do, grabbing the soda can you had standing infront of you at the table. „I.. yeah, I guess? Okay. Who am I kidding" she said, her hands running over her face. She revealed a slight laugh. „Oh god" she groaned, now fully blushing like a 13 year old teenager. „Yeah, yeah I do like her. Fuck, this is the first time admitting it out loud" she said.

You took a sip from you're soda, the carbonic acid being long gone since you opened the can almost 2 hours ago, giving you a second or two to continue to stay silent. Having the opportunity to ignore the trouble of you're mind right now

The Jealousy building up inside of you made you think like you're going all crazy, fighting against the urge to scream inside a pillow you took that energy elsewhere. „okay, good for you" you said, taking another sip from the drink, hoping to put out the fire building up in you're chest. Ellie looked at you saying „it's not weird, right? Falling for her?" you looked at her again, considering of telling her what you really think. You consider of telling her that's it's not weird, but you don't like it either. No , you hate it. You hate it so much because you want Ellie to fall for you instead of her.

But you didn't say that. Instead you betrayed your 15 year old self by lying to Ellie and yourself. 

It's been three months, 4 days and 2,5 Hours without a word from her. 

 Ever since then , You are entangled in the delicate web of grief for what felt like for two people, where the threads of loss and longing weave intricate patterns within your heart. Two souls, distinct yet equally significant, find their place in the chambers of your being.

Dylan, now resting six feet under, has embarked on a journey beyond the veil. His earthly vessel lies cradled by the soil, while his essence pirouettes among the constellations. The wasteland of the unknown stretches before him—And then there's your best friend, a constellation of memories and shared secrets. But her presence has become elusive, slipping through your fingers like sand. She chooses silence—a withdrawal that echoes louder than any spoken words. And you tried. Oh, how you tried to get her to speak—the silent symphony of longing, the unspoken words that hung in the air like dew-kissed spider silk. Your gaze, a language of its own, whispered secrets that transcended mere sentences. But she? She met your offerings with silence—a void that echoed louder than any spoken syllable. She stopped coming over. The threshold of your space became a chasm, a bridge severed by unspoken truths. The door, once a portal to laughter and whispered confidences, now stood closed. The only ever time you got to see her, to give yourself the inner peace of her being okay, was on the weekly parol meetings. She attended, her presence a fragile thread connecting you both. But she mastered the art of departure—slipping away before your eyes could catch hers. The opposite direction became her refuge, a path untrodden by your footsteps.

Talking wasn't what Ellie needed. You sensed it, that unspoken ache in the air—the need for silence, for space. So you stepped back, honoring the boundaries she drew around her heart. But your longing couldnt be unoticed by you any longer so after three weeks, you started writing to her. Youre desperation spilled over, ink bleeding onto paper.  You became a clandestine messenger, slipping perfumed notes into the small slit of her mailbox. Each letter carried a piece of your soul—a plea, a confession, a desperate whisper.  It lingered on your fingertips, a bridge between worlds. And as you pressed those letters into the darkness, you imagined her fingers brushing against them. Would she feel the urgency? Would she hear your silent screams for her friendship?  Handwritten letters—those delicate vessels of ink and paper—weave memories that transcend mere words. Each stroke of the pen, each carefully crafted sentence, carries a piece of the you in them. The intimacy lies not only in the content but also in the act of creation itself. You decided to write her if shes unable to talk, you wanted to give her the space she needed, you tried to be as understanding as you could. But one unanswered letter turned into two, three, four. You stopped putting them into her mailbox after five. 

Now, you're trying to ignore the pain in your heart every time you wake up. Ellie's childish behavior hasn't stopped you from living your life. Instead, you channel your anger and sleepless nights into your work, making each patrol count. Working alongside Jesse has become a bright spot—a fun experience you eagerly anticipate. It's not the same as those moments outside the gates with Ellie, but it's different in a way that doesn't breed resentment.

You and Jesse share a closeness that predates his separation from Dina. The heartbreak they both faced has left its mark, and you find solace in each other's company. Jesse isn't thrilled about the situation either—the breakup and lingering jealousy still gnaw at him. On that second day of patrol together, he broaches the awkward topic between you and Ellie. "So, you gonna tell me what happened or not?" Jesse's voice cut through the quiet of the abandoned checkpoint. He pulled a sandwich from his backpack, the crinkling of the wrapper echoing in the dim light. The two of you sat there, weary from the day's patrol, the weight of your assigned route still clinging to your bones. Nightfall had descended too swiftly, and the dangers of this post-apocalyptic world made it impossible to venture home safely after dark. You shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground, the rough edges of the old checkpoint digging into your back. The makeshift campsite was a stark reminder of the life you now led—constantly on the move, always vigilant. Jesse's eyes bore into yours, waiting for an answer.

"Don't really know what's there to say, to be honest," you replied, your fingers tracing the edges of the food you'd prepared hours ago. The silence now haning between the two of you wasnt uncomftable,punctuated by the distant howl of a lone infected.  "Maybe explain why we're now patrol partners? I thought you and Ellie made such a good team. Not that I'm complaining, though—we're badass too. Just wondering why you suddenly decided that Ellie wasn't good enough anymore," Jesse's voice cut through the dimly lit space of the makeshift camp. He lay down on the sleeping bag, using his right arm as a makeshift pillow, his gaze fixed on you. The flicker of confusion danced through the forest of your mind as you replayed Jesse's last words.

"What? I didn't decide that," you replied, studying your friend's posture as he took a bite of his cheese sandwich. "I asked Dina what happened earlier today." Jesse mumbled, his mouth still half full. "Ellie told her it was you who decided to change partners. Don't get me wrong—I feel honored to be your new partner in crime. I was just curious about what happened." - ''the fuck?'' You said more to yourself than him. ''Thats so fucked up..'' -"Okay, c'mon, I need the drama. Please explain to me like everything. Consider me one of your gossip girls," Jesse quipped, his unseriousness bringing a smile to your face. You took another bite of your food, savoring the dry bread as you gathered your thoughts. Trusting Jesse, you decided it wasn't a bad idea to share what had transpired between you and Ellie. So, with a deep breath, you began recounting the events of your last patrol with her. Jesse leans in, eyes wide with curiosity. His sandwich forgotten, he hangs on every word as you recount the events of that fateful patrol with Ellie. The tension, the unspoken words, the ache in your chest—it all spills out, painting a vivid picture of the fractured bond between you and the girl who once felt like your world.

"Damn," Jesse mutters, running a hand through his hair. "That's heavy stuff." His gaze lingers on your face, searching for answers. "You think she'll come around?'' You shrug, the weight of uncertainty settling on your shoulders. ''Dont think so, I think she regrets even kissing me. She has dina now, dont think that she'll need me anymore.'' Your gaze drifts down to your wrist, where the matching bracelet still clings—a fragile thread connecting you to Ellie. You wonder if she wears hers. Jesse, now leading forward, nudges your shoulder playfully. "Well, partner," he says, "we'll keep kicking ass out here. Fuck them both".

After that night, you felt like Jesse and you were attached at the hip. Somehow, you both helped each other navigate the jagged terrain of heartbreak, spending time together and letting the hours slip away. Being friends with Jesse had its perks. He acted as a bridge to Ellie, still maintaining a sort of friendship with Dina, getting slim updates from her. Through Jesse, you received updates about Ellie—whether she was safe, whether she'd eaten enough.

But it wasn't the same. Those impersonal updates couldn't replace the warmth of setting eyes on Ellie, hearing her voice—the cadence of her laughter, the way she'd say your name. You missed the little things, the mundane details that had once woven your lives together. But over the time you started to accept the turn of events, knowing you cannot force Friendship on somebody.

You started to distract yourself outside of work, whether it was with Jesse or... Sophia. After that encounter where Maria broke the news to you about Ellie changing everything, you did the only thing you knew you were really good at: You ran off.

Weirdly enough, two weeks after that pivotal moment and your  patrols with Jesse as your new partner, a knock on your door interrupted your vegetable-cutting session in the small kitchen. As you walked toward the door, a million possibilities raced through your mind. Was it Ellie, knocking on the wood on a late rainy afternoon? Or perhaps Jesse, wanting to talk? Dina? Or maybe Joel, coming all the way to the comfort of your four walls to deliver news about his beloved Ellie being hurt.

Secretly, you wished it was Ellie. So you ran a hand through your hair, glancing into the small mirror hanging near the door to check yourself out before opening the squeaky wood.  But on the other side stood Sophia, holding a plate covered in aluminum foil.  "Uhm... hey," she said, her cheeks flushed with red. "I've made some cake—way too much to eat all by myself. I wanted to share it. If, um, you want to, of course. It's chocolate cake." Her words tumbled out in a rush, and you sensed her nervousness. A Small smile spread across your face as you stepped aside, making space for her to enter the house. "That's too kind," you replied. "You've got impeccable timing. I just finished dinner—perfect time for dessert. Come inside." You didn't mention the comforting fact that her house was all the way across town, meaning she'd walked quite a distance just to bring you cake. Nor did you acknowledge that it was common knowledge that Sophia is allergic to Chocolate but it was your favorite.

One hour with Sophia turned into two, and before you knew it, the entire afternoon was filled with your laughter. She ended up staying over, making your house feel less empty. Since Dylan's passing, sleep had eluded you. Without Ellie by your side, it felt impossible to quiet your mind. Sophia changed that somewhat, but it didn't feel the same. Perhaps your own mind betrayed you, clouding your thoughts about her presence. You didn't want her to leave, yet you didn't necessarily want her to stay either. The universe seemed to decide for you, as the strawberry-blonde girl drifted off to sleep on your sofa after what felt like an eternity of talking.

You settled into your gray armchair, gently covering her thin body with your favorite blanket—the same one Ellie used to take whenever she stayed over. The entire night, you found yourself comparing Sophia to Ellie—the way she moved, the cadence of her voice, the sparkle in her eyes when she spoke about her interests. It wasn't a good thing, you must admit. Sophia is a nice girl, but you never really considered her a potential friend, especially since you both shared your first kisses with each other. After that, things got weird, and you both grew up, walking different paths.

Yet now, here she was—baking you cakes, making you laugh, and filling the void left by Ellie. The universe had a funny way of intertwining lives, even when hearts were tangled in memories and unanswered letters. Having someone else in Ellie's place is like trying to fit a puzzle piece into a space that was uniquely shaped for her. It's both comforting and disorienting—a blend of familiarity and foreignness. Her presence brings warmth, but it's a different kind—the soft glow of candlelight instead of the blazing fire that Ellie ignited.Sophia's touch is gentle, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin. But it lacks the electric charge—the pulse of longing—that Ellie's touch carried. You wonder if Sophia noticed the way you hesitated, the way your heart stumbles when she leans in too close.

The day with Sophia didnt end there, it  stretched into a comfortable rhythm, covering the next two days of your life —a dance of shared meals, laughter, and quiet moments. Her presence filled the spaces that Ellie had once occupied, and you found yourself not minding it at all. The awkwardness of those initial conversations melted away as you both peeled back layers, revealing stories and dreams that wove your lives together.

But life has a way of interrupting even the most harmonious melodies. Jesse, with his uninvited pizza and the entire Twilight saga in tow, barged into your living room. You tried to politely decline the teen romance marathon—you'd seen it one too many times—but Jesse, being Jesse, brushed off your protests. His eyes widened when he saw Sophia sitting there, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. You knew he'd milk this moment, teasing you about having a cute girl over at your house.

After Jesse left, well, pratically run out, you settled back onto the sofa next to Sophia. "That was... Jesse, right?" she asked, her fingers playing with her curly hair. You leaned against the soft material of the sofa, nodding. "Uhm, yup." Sophia's gaze lingered on you, and you sensed her curiosity. "You two do spend a lot of time together—even after patrols," she observed."Oh? You noticed that? Stalking me, huh?" you teased, making Sophia blush. Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. "Well," she replied, her voice soft, "you just always catch my eye." And then, without warning, her body shifted closer. Her hands found their place on either side of your waist, and her lips met yours—a sweetness that tasted like possibility. You hated yourself for it, truly. Because here was a girl with good intentions, almost on top of you, and your mind couldn't help but wish it was Ellie.

Another two months slip through your fingers, ephemeral as morning mist. Life, once heavy with the ache of Ellie's absence, begins to lift itself up.  Sophia becomes a constant presence—a sunbeam that warms the corners of your heart as you allow yourself. Your growing relationship with Sophia blossoms, and you find comfort in her laughter, her touch, and the shared moments that weave your lives together. The unspoken question lingers: Are you allowed to call her your girlfriend? After all, you've shared more than just cake and conversations. Perhaps labels matter less than the way she looks at you, the way her fingers intertwine with yours.

And then there's Jesse—the steadfast friend who bridges the gap between patrols and pizza nights. His teasing about Sophia doesn't go unnoticed, but he's also the one who brings laughter into your home. Everything else remains unchanged—the memories, the unanswered letters, and the quiet longing. Life moves forward, and you find solace in the delicate balance of old and new. Patrol was as good as it could be, once you and Jesse found a way to connect your abilities, it didnt really feel like work anymore. 

"Yo, little one," Jesse's voice cut through the quiet of the stables, interrupting your grooming session with Lacy. You turned to meet his gaze, immediately noticing his patrol clothes—fitting perfectly against his frame. "What the hell are you doing? We have the day off, remember?" you asked, your fingers still caressing Lacy's mane.

"Not anymore," Jesse replied, already opening the door to his horse's stable. "Dina apparently has the flu, and they both forgot to sign in at the station outside. Maria asked me to take their route for today and look for anything weird." He led his dark brown horse out of the stable, determination etched on his face.

"Good luck with that," you said, turning back to continue your work. But Jesse wasn't done. "Nuh huh, lover girl. You're joining me," he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Pardon?" You looked at him, confusion knitting your brows. "Don't hit me with Spanish,"- ''Its french'' Jesse chuckled. "well whatever it was,I don't speak it. Come on now, get ready. We don't have all day." He saddled his horse efficiently, his movements practiced. "Why should I? You said yes, not me," you replied stubbornly, even though you gathered all the essentials needed to prepare Lacy. "Well, because I'm your partner in crime? Your work husband? Love of your patrol life?" Jesse grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. "And because I'll get bored alone. You don't have anything better to do anyway." - ''Rude?! maybe i had things planned?!'' You said, jokingly offended as you grab your stuff  ''You can meet sophia  and have all of those important 'converstations'' he made weird kissing noises ''later.'' He finished his sentance, making you laugh ''Well first of all I-'' You got interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You looked into the direction of the noise and saw the last person you wanted to see today. ''Sup, Ellie.'' Jesse said, leaning against the stable door. ''what can I do for you?'' He asked, eyes stuck on ellie. But her gaze lied elsewhere; On you.

You shivered under her gaze, your heart racing. As you looked into Ellie's eyes—the first time in forever—you sensed something there, something you couldn't quite put into words. Her burning gaze finally shifted from you to Jesse, arms crossed at her chest.

"Earlier, when me and Dina were at the station, I lost my journal," Ellie said, her voice close, intimate. "Can you look for it? Kinda really need it back." Her words echoed through the stable, and suddenly, the air felt too thin. Your knees wobbled, memories of Ellie cascading down the memory bridge, crashing into your stomach. You felt like you might throw up. "Sure, we will look for it. Anything else?" Jesse asked, glancing between the two of you. Ellie's eyes traveled back to you, and silent hope bloomed in your chest. Maybe this was the moment—maybe Ellie would finally have the guts to talk to you directly, to say she's sorry. But as her gaze wavered, you felt the familiar pang of disappointment. Once again, Ellie remained silent.You felt a strong hand on your shoulder, silently offering support. Jesse's familiar scent enveloped you. "Thought so," he said, ending the conversation. Ellie nodded and turned away, leaving the two of you alone. The barn was filled with silence until you spoke with a shaky voice. "Okay, let's just go." And so you did—you and Jesse left for patrol. But with every passing second, the memory of that confrontation lingered, and you realized how much you still craved her.

"Jesus, I hate this path," Jesse grumbled, pushing open the old, creaky door to the station. His face turned red from the effort, and you couldn't help but giggle. "Stop crying like a baby. Let's sign in and leave," you said, walking toward the desk on the opposite side of the room. As you approached, you noticed that a pen was missing. Without it, you obviously couldn't sign in.

"Jesse, there's no pen," you called out, looking at your friend. "Really? Look under the table or something. We'll find one," he replied. You followed his suggestion, getting down on your knees. Spiderwebs greeted you, along with the encroaching dusk. You pulled out your flashlight, shining it underneath the table for a better look. And there it was—an old, leather-covered book. You'd recognize that book spine anywhere, even in the grandest libraries.

You picked it up, wiping away the dust that clung to its material. The thickness of the journal reminded you of what you were holding—a door to Ellie Williams' secrets and mindful thoughts. "Found one!" Jesse's voice snapped you out of your reverie. You turned around, hiding the journal behind your back. Jesse joined you, writing your names on the slim paper of the checklist. ‘Partner in crimes ( Jesse and y/n)’

"Did you find anything? The book, I mean. It's not somewhere I looked," Jesse asked. You shook your head, slipping the journal into your bag without it being noticed. "Nope, didn't find it either."

''Every poem I ever wrote was about her. That smile of hers, those golden eyes—whenever she's too close to the sun, it's impossible for me to stay away. The day I left, my heart shattered into a million pieces. In my head, inside my perfect self-made world, she never left me. All my thoughts revolve around her—the memories etched into my mind. Her touch, so soft—I never wanted to let go. The scent of her clothes, stealing my breath away. The nights we spent dreaming together, the minutes I never want to regret. I never dared to imagine a lifetime without her. Yet here I am, writing these words with a hole in my chest. I'm bleeding out, the wind kissing my mind, refreshing memories of letting go. The silence surrounds me, a reminder to hold on.

I search the past for redemption, but it eludes me. The only thing left of me are broken pieces of her.”

The words were carefully etched onto the paper, making it hard for you to breathe. You hadn't intended to overstep her privacy—why had you taken that journal in the first place? You dont know.  But here you were, sitting with the book in hand, the only light in the living room emanating from the countless candles you'd lit.

The journal looked thicker than usual, and that's what caught your attention first. You knew that book well, even though you'd never seen what she put inside—except for her drawings of animals, Joel, Dina, and you. She'd never shown anyone what she wrote between the pages.

The reason you'd decided to open the book, against all your inner morals, was the fact that as you carefully pulled it out of your bag—treating it like fragile glass—multiple letters fell out. You noticed them right away. They were yours—carefully written letters she'd never dared to answer. The envelopes ripped open showed you she defenetly read them all. You dont know how to feel about that yet. Relieved that she cared enough to read them? Happy becasue she carried your letters with her, doesnt matter where shed go? Or mad, because she never replied? You know nothing. The only thing you're able to do now is bury yourself in the book, reading what Ellie never dared to say out loud.

''Ive been having a hard time adjusting, I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting. I didn't know if you'd care if I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that. Pulled the car off the road to the lookout, Could've followed my fears all the way down. And maybe I don't quite know what to say but I'm here in your doorway. I just wanted you to know that this is me trying'' 

The words cut deeper than a knife,

before you knew it, your eyes traveled to the next phrases, crossed out, you could barely read them:

"It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you.

Seeing you with Sophie burns me from inside out.

Why are you with her?

I know I don't own you, perhaps I never will,

so the anger inside of me when I see you with her

is something I'm not allowed to feel.

What I feel, I shouldn't show you.

So when you're around, I don't.

I let you walk away with her.

I know I don't have the right to feel it,

but it doesn't mean I don't."

The rest of the book was empty, besides some skteches of eyes that look dangerously like yours. You swallowed hard, not really sure of what you should feel. You re-read the sentences out loud, letting the bittersweet aftertaste of them making you feel alive. Your heart has been Ellies since the first time you both laughed together; yet you were so sure of the fact that she would never feel the same. Considering the words in the journal, maybe it wasnt one sided after all. Youre confused, being with Sophia was easy, comftable. But with ellie, it was different. better. You miss the butterflies in your stomach, miss her touch and her closeness. The rollercoster was everything you ever had, after all.

Two days of full selfishness carried its weight, and you continued to keep the journal. The guilt crept in, stealthy as shadows, finding you at night, when the world slept and your thoughts roamed free. Those written pages from Ellie, inked with longing and crossed-out confessions, haunted your mind. You tried your best to hide the pain, a fragile masquerade. Distancing yourself from Sophia and Jesse, you walked the tightrope of deception. It wasn't deliberate; it was survival. The what-could've-been danced like a ghost, whispering secrets in your ear. You wondered if Ellie's heart echoed the same unspoken words.

Sophia, her presence a comforting harbor, yet her touch felt like borrowed warmth. And Jesse, his eyes— The guilt gnawed at you, a relentless hunger. You held Sophia too close, fearing Ellie's phantom gaze. You looked into Jesse's eyes, and the lie about keeping the Journal tasted bitter on your tongue.  Ellie, elusive as a wisp of smoke. The barn encounter—the air thick with unspoken truths—left you breathless. You havent seen her since. You called in sick for the patrol meeting, a desperate escape from the inevitable. The fear of facing her again, of unraveling the fragile equilibrium, gripped your heart.

In the quiet of your room, the journal lay open. The crossed-out phrases, the sketches of eyes—they were your silent companions.

——————————————————-

"Okay, Miss being all sad and distant, I'm not having this anymore. Tell me what's going on right now or I'm killing you," Jesse declared, pressing past you as you opened the door. His urgency hung in the air, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

"Jesus, very aggressive today, aren't we?" you quipped, trailing after your friend into the living room. The door closed behind you, sealing you both in a cocoon of tension. You sank into the couch, and Jesse settled next to you, his gaze drilling holes into your soul."Therapy session. Now. What's going on?" His hands clasped together, a makeshift gavel. The room felt smaller, suffocating. You glanced at the coffee table, considering the whiskey bottle, but thought better of it. "Nothing? Do you want to drink anything... or?" Your voice played innocent, a fragile mask. Jesse wasn't fooled. "The jury says stop trying to change the subject." His tone held a mix of exasperation and concern."The jury...?" You grinned, despite the weight in your chest. "Yeah, me." Jesse's eyes softened, and you chuckled. "It's nothing, really.“

"You're completely distant," he said, his voice calm. "Even Sophia asked me if I have any idea what's going on." The truth hung between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap.

"I don't know... it's, urgh, weird." You fidgeted with the edge of a cushion. Jesse leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Tell me!" His insistence bordered on desperation

"Okay, but promise me not to hate me?" You gave him a side-eye, afraid of meeting his gaze head-on. "Could never hate you," he replied, and the words carried weight. So you spilled it—the secret you'd harbored, the journal you'd found.

Ellie's words, inked and crossed out, danced in your memory. You didn't reveal the exact phrasing, but you shared the confusion—the way her emotions bled through the pages. Jesse listened, his eyes wide, and you wondered if he saw the echoes of your own heartache.

In that quiet room, the truth hung heavy. You'd kept Ellie's words hidden, but now they spilled forth. Jesse's hand found yours, and you clung to it, hoping for absolution. "It's Ellie," you whispered. "It's always been Ellie."  His silence spoke volumes, eyes carrying the weight of unspoken understanding. He'd always sensed your feelings for Ellie, perhaps even before you did. It wasn't a secret to anyone but her—the way your heart gravitated toward her, like a moth drawn to a flame. “You guys need to talk.” Jesse said.

"I can't," you whispered, the words fragile on your tongue. The weight of unspoken truths pressed against your chest, threatening to spill forth."And why the fuck not? What do you have to lose?" Jesse's voice held a mix of frustration and concern. He saw through your defenses, stripped away the layers you'd carefully woven. Ellie—the enigma, the ache—loomed between you like a shadow."Afraid of losing her? I think you already archived that." His bluntness cut through your heart. You knew it too well—the missed chances, the crossed-out phrases, the silence that echoed louder than words. Jesse could see the pain in you and the bluntless paired with that slight tinge of what appeared to be anger slowly disappeared into thin air, much like the smoke of a lit cigarette blown into the night sky.

"Look" he begins, sighing while he considers the phrasing of this. He means no harm, but being too gentle could erase the importance of the situation "I want to help you, but you cannot hide yourself away. If you truly want this girl, you need to be able to put in the effort. Dina and Ellie arent dating either, dina told me herself that the two of them thought there was something but ended up with nothing. Be honest with yourself, but also with everyone else" You exhale deeply, relief floods your system despite the heavy heart still pounding against your chest.

Jesse is the kind of friend you can never let go. He's just that important.

Between the soft tunes of comfortingly familiar songs and a few shed tears, the two of you scheme together... Creating a, hopefully, foolproof plan on how to finally approach the elephant in the room. Ellie and you; it wasn't over, was it?

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Jesus Sends Out His Apostles

1 Jesus called his twelve followers together and gave them authority to drive out evil spirits and to heal every kind of disease and sickness. 2 These are the names of the twelve apostles: Simon (also called Peter) and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; 3 Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew, the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; 4 Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot, who turned against Jesus.

5 Jesus sent out these twelve men with the following order: “Don’t go to the non-Jewish people or to any town where the Samaritans live. 6 But go to the people of Israel, who are like lost sheep. 7 When you go, preach this: ‘The kingdom of heaven is near.’ 8 Heal the sick, raise the dead to life again, heal those who have skin diseases, and force demons out of people. I give you these powers freely, so help other people freely. 9 Don’t carry any money with you—gold or silver or copper. 10 Don’t carry a bag or extra clothes or sandals or a walking stick. Workers should be given what they need.

11 “When you enter a city or town, find some worthy person there and stay in that home until you leave. 12 When you enter that home, say, ‘Peace be with you.’ 13 If the people there welcome you, let your peace stay there. But if they don’t welcome you, take back the peace you wished for them. 14 And if a home or town refuses to welcome you or listen to you, leave that place and shake its dust off your feet. 15 I tell you the truth, on the Judgment Day it will be better for the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah than for the people of that town.

Jesus Warns His Apostles

16 “Listen, I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. So be as clever as snakes and as innocent as doves. 17 Be careful of people, because they will arrest you and take you to court and whip you in their synagogues. 18 Because of me you will be taken to stand before governors and kings, and you will tell them and the non-Jewish people about me. 19 When you are arrested, don’t worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time you will be given the things to say. 20 It will not really be you speaking but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.

21 “Brothers will give their own brothers to be killed, and fathers will give their own children to be killed. Children will fight against their own parents and have them put to death. 22 All people will hate you because you follow me, but those people who keep their faith until the end will be saved. 23 When you are treated badly in one city, run to another city. I tell you the truth, you will not finish going through all the cities of Israel before the Son of Man comes.

24 “A student is not better than his teacher, and a servant is not better than his master. 25 A student should be satisfied to become like his teacher; a servant should be satisfied to become like his master. If the head of the family is called Beelzebul, then the other members of the family will be called worse names!

Fear God, Not People

26 “So don’t be afraid of those people, because everything that is hidden will be shown. Everything that is secret will be made known. 27 I tell you these things in the dark, but I want you to tell them in the light. What you hear whispered in your ear you should shout from the housetops. 28 Don’t be afraid of people, who can kill the body but cannot kill the soul. The only one you should fear is the one who can destroy the soul and the body in hell. 29 Two sparrows cost only a penny, but not even one of them can die without your Father’s knowing it. 30 God even knows how many hairs are on your head. 31 So don’t be afraid. You are worth much more than many sparrows.

Tell People About Your Faith

32 “All those who stand before others and say they believe in me, I will say before my Father in heaven that they belong to me. 33 But all who stand before others and say they do not believe in me, I will say before my Father in heaven that they do not belong to me.

34 “Don’t think that I came to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. 35 I have come so that

‘a son will be against his father, a daughter will be against her mother, a daughter-in-law will be against her mother-in-law.

36 A person’s enemies will be members of his own family.’ (Micah 7:6)

37 “Those who love their father or mother more than they love me are not worthy to be my followers. Those who love their son or daughter more than they love me are not worthy to be my followers. 38 Whoever is not willing to carry the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. 39 Those who try to hold on to their lives will give up true life. Those who give up their lives for me will hold on to true life. 40 Whoever accepts you also accepts me, and whoever accepts me also accepts the One who sent me. 41 Whoever meets a prophet and accepts him will receive the reward of a prophet. And whoever accepts a good person because that person is good will receive the reward of a good person. 42 Those who give one of these little ones a cup of cold water because they are my followers will truly get their reward.” — Matthew 10 | New Century Version (NCV) The Holy Bible, New Century Version®. Copyright © 2005 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Cross References: Genesis 3:1; Exodus 4:12; Numbers 18:7; Deuteronomy 33:9; 1 Samuel 2:29; 1 Samuel 14:45; 1 Samuel 17:28; 1 Samuel 17:40; 1 Samuel 25:6; 2 Samuel 14:11; 1 Kings 18:4; 2 Kings 1:2; 2 Kings 4:10; 2 Kings 17:24; Job 37:24; Psalm 35:13; Psalm 50:20; Psalm 119:46; Psalm 122:7-8; Proverbs 10:9; Proverbs 19:17; Proverbs 29:27; Isaiah 19:2; Isaiah 22:1; Isaiah 55:1; Isaiah 59:13; Jeremiah 26:21; Jeremiah 50:6; Ezekiel 16:48; Ezekiel 34:4; Ecclesiastes 11:1; Ecclesiastes 12:14; Micah 7:6; Matthew 3:3; Matthew 4:21; Matthew 4:23; Matthew 5:22; Matthew 5:26; Matthew 6:26; Matthew 7:8; Matthew 7:22; Matthew 9:9; Matthew 9:35; Matthew 12:12; Matthew 16:24-25; Matthew 18:5; Matthew 20:20; Matthew 24:17; Matthew 26:2; Matthew 26:14-15; Mark 6:7-8; Mark 8:34-35; Mark 8:38; Luke 6:40; Luke 9:2-3; Luke 10:7; Luke 10:11; Luke 12:8; Luke 12:51; Luke 15:10; Acts 13:51; Revelation 6:4

Commentary on Matthew 10 by Matthew Henry

[violetsteve]

A companion piece to the makeout fic (though both can be read as stand alones). Also posted on AO3 here!

If someone would’ve told Robin three years ago that not only would Steve “the hair” Harrington be her very best friend, but she would also go on to fight evil Russians and demonic bats with him and live to tell the tale, she would’ve laughed in their face.

Actually, she probably would have given a very obnoxious, very nervous laugh, and then ran in the opposite direction because obviously that person was either insane or under the influence of something very bad.

Still, they would have been right. Steve is her very best friend. She would move mountains for him. She would walk into the fiery depths of the upside down to pull his sorry ass out. She wouldn’t even hesitate.

But goddamn is she tired of seeing his stupid fucking turned on face.

***

Robin admits that she enjoys DnD nights more than she thought she would—which is to say she thought she wouldn’t enjoy them at all.

The truth is, though, they’re fun. It’s the one time where they can all get together and just be. They don’t all play DnD, but all of them are typically clustered in the same room, strewn over couches and scattering about the floor, all just spending time in the same space without the pressure of the impending end of the world hanging over their heads.

Plus, it’s kinda fun to watch the nerds play DnD. Eddie gets so into it, and in turn so does the rest of the table. Robin has to admit that Eddie is good at this—dragon mastering or whatever.

She’s not entirely sure what he’s making the kids battle right now—thinks maybe it’s a goblin army—but Eddie is perched with his feet on his chair, crouching down and making slight growling noises as his goblins attack the kids. He’s got his fingers curled into claws and when he speaks he sounds ridiculous. It’s embarrassing, is what it is. His voice is somehow growly and squeaky, high pitched as he bares his teeth at the group clustered around the table.

Eddie looks so much like a gremlin in this moment that it makes Robin cackle. Eddie is being an absolute weirdo, and she turns to share in her delight with Steve, only—

Jesus fuck does she regret looking over at him. Steve is very obviously paying attention to Eddie’s actions right now, just like Robin had been, but there’s a very definite difference to the kind of attention Steve is paying.

Steve’s eyes are already hooded and slightly unfocused when Robin looks over, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as his index and middle finger tap a staccato rhythm against his thigh and—

“Steve, gross,” Robin whispers harshly, her whole body recoiling.

Steve’s gaze cuts to hers, a slight look of confusion clouding his face.

“What?” He whispers back, but Robin can tell he’s only half in the conversation. He’s got his head turned towards her, but his gaze keeps drifting back towards Eddie—pulled almost as if by magnetic force.

Robin wants to throw herself off the nearest tall surface.

“Do not tell me you are turned on right now. If you tell me you are turned on by Eddie doing that—” Robin gestures to where Eddie is still crouching on his chair, his fingers now forming dancing hooks in the air in front of him as he speaks in that warbling, growly tone, “—I will gouge my eyes out with my own fingernails, I swear to God.”

Steve’s fingers still against his thigh, his posture going rigid. Slowly, so slowly, he brings his gaze to meet Robin’s head on. He seems to debate something with himself before he says—

“Do you want to go shopping for sunglasses before or after you’re blind?”

Robin shrieks.

Steve laughs the entire time the rest of the room tries to assure that Robin is not dying. To be fair, she’s not entirely convinced she’s not.

***

Robin and Steve are ¾ of the way through their shift at Family Video when Eddie strolls through the door, promptly making Steve forget he’s at his job—making him forget that despite what it might look like to the outside viewer, they do have things they have to get done before they can leave.

“Eddie!” Steve crows, and the smile on his face is so big that Robin forgets to be annoyed for a second. It’s just, God she’s so happy for them. They’re disgustingly cute, and she’ll never forget how supportive Steve was when she started dating his ex. He deserves just as much support in his relationstion.

Plus, she just likes seeing him happy. Though if anyone ever asks, she’ll never admit it. She’d dove into a creepy lake to pull his ass back through a hell dimension portal, but admit that she has a vested interest in his happiness? Gross, absolutely not.

Eddie makes his way to the counter where they’re processing returns, or, more accurately, where they were processing returns. Steve isn’t doing anything except staring at Eddie like he was the one who put all the stars in the sky.

She’s so going to make fun of him for it later.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter, effectively putting himself in Steve’s space.

It’s like Robin doesn’t even register. Has Robin mentioned how gross they are?

“I have something for you,” Eddie says, removing an arm from the counter to dig around in his pocket. After a moment, he makes a little victorious noise. He pulls his hand out, something grasped in his fist, and holds it out to Steve. Steve hovers his own hand under Eddie’s, palm up.

Robin watches as something small and shiny drops into Steve’s hand. It looks like gold, but Robin knows that’s ridiculous.

What she doesn’t know, however, is what it actually is. She reaches out to take it from Steve, saying, “What even is that?”

Only, her hand barely even stretches across the counter before Eddie is hissing at her. Full on teeth bared, hissing.

She lets out a startled yelp, yanking her hand back to her side as she looks up at him with wide, surprised eyes.

For a moment, everything is silent and still. Robin is just about to comment a very polite ‘what the fuck,’ when Steve blurts—

“Baby, no offense, but what the fuck?”

Eddie looks up at Steve with wide eyes of his own. “That was really weird, wasn’t it? Sorry, Robin.”

And the thing is, Robin can tell Eddie is genuinely asking. She can tell that in Eddie’s head, it isn’t even something he thinks could be weird, just something he does—instinctive. Robin, however, has literally never been hissed at like that by a human.

It’s so, so weird, and Robin turns to Steve, naively thinking that Steve is going to patiently explain it to Eddie—explain that Robin is curious by nature and they share everything and Eddie shouldn’t hiss at her. She gets one look at his face and realizes that that is very much not the case.

Steve has both lips tucked between his teeth, his mouth a firm line of consternation, and a flush in his cheeks. He’s very clearly dismayed, but Robin can’t figure out why. Is he embarrassed of Eddie? Robin immediately dismisses the thought. Steve is hard to embarrass in general, and she’s never seen him be embarrassed because of something weird Eddie has done, animal noises included. In fact, normally he’s—

“Steve,” Robin whines when she puts it together. Steve isn’t embarassed, he’s fucking horny from Eddie’s little display. Robin hates him so, so much.

“Sorry,” Steve croaks, and Christ he’s blushing. He’s refusing to meet her gaze and he’s blushing. There’s a flush making its way up Steve’s neck, slowly filling out his cheeks and Robin hates him.

“Oh, my god,” Robin mutters. “You are unbelievable.”

Robin can see Eddie’s gaze darting between the two of them in her peripheral vision, obviously trying to work out what’s happening—what silent conversation is passing between them.

Steve lets out a small squeak that might, in some languages, pass as a feeble ‘yeah,’ before he’s reaching across the counter and fisting a hand in the front of Eddie’s shirt. Eddie lets out a startled squawk as Steve starts tugging him along the outside of the counter—arm extended across it as he walks down one side and pulls Eddie down the other.

“Gonna take 15, Rob.” Steve doesn’t even look at her when he says it. He has a single minded focus on getting himself and Eddie to the break room as fast as possible.

Robin’s too busy plotting her own murder to remember that Steve already took his break. She didn’t even get to see what Eddie gave Steve. She hates everything.

***

Steve and Robin are in the middle of a conversation when the most baffling thing happens.

Well, it’s baffling to Robin. Steve doesn’t even seem phased. Or, well, he does, just in a vastly different way.

She’s in the middle of lecturing him about the proper way to flip pancakes, Steve rolling his eyes—it’s like she serves raw pancakes one time and suddenly she’s banned from the stove forever, nobody even got sick!!—as he continues to flip with a spatula.

Seriously, Robin is so sure if he just twisted his wrist in the right way it would do a sick flip in the air and land right back in the pan. What’s the point of him playing all those sports if he can’t display some basic hand eye coordination?

Anyway, her point is, she’s in the middle of lecturing Steve about the correct way to flip pancakes when Eddie walks into the kitchen, waltzes right up to Steve, and just bites him. Completely unprompted. Like his whole purpose of walking in the kitchen was to sink his teeth into Steve’s bicep.

Steve lets out a startled yelp, the spatula swinging dangerously close to Robin's face as he spins around.

Robin waits for the “what the fuck,” maybe even anger. She’d probably be mad if someone bit her. She waits, but it never comes.

Instead, she watches as Steve stares at Eddie, his face weirdly intense. Eddie states back, a wide eyed, falsely innocent look stealing over his features.

The air in the kitchen is so still for a second Robin is sure she could hear a pin drop from three rooms away, and then—

Steve reaches out, fists the hand not still gripping a spatula in the front of Eddie’s shirt, and tugs. He tugs hard enough that Eddie goes stumbling forward, catching himself on Steve’s chest and oh god his lips.

Robin is forced to witness Steve sticking his tongue in Eddie’s mouth. She has to watch with her own eyes as Steve slots his mouth over Eddie’s, apparently not wanting to waste any time before he shoves his tongue past Eddie’s lips.

Robin lets out a high pitched, disbelieving laugh. She cannot believe them. She feels like she’s going insane. Why does this keep happening to her?!

And the worst part? Robins isn't sure if she’s more upset about the burnt pancakes, or that this is the third time she’s seen Steve stick his tongue down Eddie’s throat in less than two days.

***

“I just think it’s fascinating.”

“Robin, please. Not this again.”

Robin gives Steve a mean look from her seat across the booth. Honestly, sometimes she cannot believe him.

“Steve. Steven. Listen to me. I have had to witness your horny face—” Steve’s face twists up at this, a displeased turn to his lips, “—more times in the last three weeks than I have the entire time I’ve known you. Do you realize how insane that makes me feel?” Robin throws her hands out, gesturing at the general air around them because she needs Steve to see her point. She needs him to pay attention right now.

“Do you realize how insane it makes me feel to hear you talking about my horny face?”

Robin reaches across the table and flicks Steve’s nose. Steve lets out an irritated noise, but his face otherwise remains relatively level.

Robin would like to know why he’s being so stoic on the topic. She feels totally certifiable.

“Steve, I’m being serious.” She’s whining again, she knows, but she thinks maybe if she whines enough Steve will give in. He’s always been a sucker for a particularly good pouty face. “I want to talk about it. If you’re going to keep forcing me to witness it, I deserve the answers I so crave.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Nobody is forcing you to witness it, Robin.”

Robin snorts. “You literally are. Like, you’re doing it right in front of me with no warning. One second I am just standing there, minding my own business, and the next you’re giving Eddie your come hither eyes.”

Steve makes that face again—the one where his mouth twists up—and flicks a fry at her. She fumbles with it, but eventually manages to catch it and throws it in her mouth.

“Gross,” Steve says, but she can tell he’s trying to fight a smile. “Do not ever say—” Steve drops his voice a couple octaves, “—come hither to me again.”

“Okay, fine,” Robin gives easily. “But only if you give me details. Is it a honeymoon phase thing? Are you just constantly on the cusp of ripping Eddie’s clothes off all the time because it’s new and exciting?”

Steve bites his bottom lip, averting his eyes. He’s clearly embarrassed, which Robin thinks is so weird. Her and Steve have basically zero secrets. They’re worryingly codependent, and hardly ever get embarrassed around each other.

Sure, sometimes Steve annoys the shit out of her, but she also went to him for sex tips. Eddie makes jokes about them being the twins from The Shining and they both laugh because it’s not exactly false.

So, it’s a little startling to see Steve acting so timid, so demure, but she’s pretty sure she knows why. She has a theory.

“It’s a weird thing, isn’t it?” She asks before Steve can try and change the topic like he so clearly is gearing up to do. He doesn’t say anything in response, but that’s okay. Robin has always been able to talk enough for the both of them.

“It’s like…Eddie does something weird and you like it, right?” Steve’s cheeks are growing redder by the second, and Robin’s first instinct is to crow in victory—she’s absolutely nailed it—but she holds back. “I think I’ve figured that bit out, but what I can’t figure out is why that embarasses you, why you’re ashamed of being into Eddie’s quirks.”

Steve huffs. “That’s not it,” he says, running a hand through his hair, messing up the artful swoop he had it in that morning. “I’m not, like, embarrassed by being into Eddie or the weird things he does. I actually really like them, as you’ve been so obvious about pointing out. I just…” Steve trails off, looks away from Robin.

He’s thinking, clearly weighing something is his mind. The more he ponders it, the more Robin can see him working himself into something truly upset.

“I like them because it’s Eddie, I think. He’s always so unapologetically himself, and that makes me—” Steve cuts himself off, seems to cut that whole train of thought off as he plants his elbows on the table and buries his face in his hands.

Steve mumbles something into his hands, his shoulders a tense line of misery. Robin almost feels bad about forcing him to talk about this. Almost.

“Steve, babe, I have no idea what you just said.”

Steve lifts his head, his miserable eyes meeting Robins. “Do you remember about five weeks ago at Family video, how you accused me of being past crush territory? Verging on love?”

Robin nods. She does remember. She had been mostly joking, but she has a feeling that maybe she wasn’t entirely off the mark, even back then.

“Well, you weren’t exactly wrong. Rob, I am. I’m so in love with him I don’t know what to do with it. I think I fully accepted it that night I kissed him, and it’s been scaring me ever since.

“God, Robin. I’m terrified. I’m constantly on the verge of telling him I’m in love with him. Every time he does something that’s just so unapologetically Eddie I want to fucking scream ‘I’m so in love with you it makes me act stupid.’” Steve buries his face in his hands again after his little rant.

“So, just curious…what’s stopping you?”

Steve’s head shoots back up and he gives her an incredulous look. “Robin, we’ve been dating for three weeks. Don’t you think its a bit fucking soon?”

Robin contemplates this. It is fast, but honestly she’s seen the two of them together. It’s disgustingly domestic already. Plus, she doesn’t think Eddie is the type of person to reject Steve’s feelings even if he isn’t quite there himself yet.

Robin tells Steve as much.

“Robin, I need you to understand that I love Eddie when I say these next words, okay?” Steve waits until she nods before he continues. “Eddie is a runner.”

Robin goes to cut him off because yes, he was, but he’s not anymore—he’s gotten so much better about it—but Steve holds a hand up to halt her interruption.

“He is. He’s gotten better about it, absolutely, I won’t deny that.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, his expression contorting with a pain that Robin is sure is entirely emotional. “But his flight or fight response still tends to tick more towards the flight, and if I tell him I love him after three weeks, I—” Steve cuts off, runs a hand through his hair again.

Robin isn’t sure she’s ever seen him this distressed, not even at the end of the world. Steve’s always been eerily level headed in bad situations—at least in the time she’s known him—so this is a bit startling for Robin.

“Robin, he’s terrified of getting too attached and I’m desperate for love. It’s a deadly combination.” Steve closes his eyes for a moment, pausing. Robin doesn't interrupt—she can tell he’s building to something.

“Did you know he’s run away from home three times? Like,” Steve waves a hand around, “before all the upside down stuff.”

Robin shakes her head no. She’d had no clue.

“Twice, when he was still living with his dad. Once with Wayne. Do you know Wayne knows he likes boys? Knows he’s currently dating a boy?”

Robin shakes her head no again, but Steve is jumping topics so fast it’s making her head spin. It feels like he keeps opening loops and forgetting to close them. She has no idea how one question relates to another.

“Well, he does. Wayne just accepted that. Just accepted Eddie completely, without hesitation.” Steve rubs a hand over his mouth. Robin can tell he’s shaking his leg under the table in a very un-Steve like way—the whole table is shaking with it. “Robin. Wayne accepted Eddie completely. He-he loved every part of him, and he still ran away from him. He ran away because it doesn’t hurt as much when you’re the one leaving instead of being the one left behind and he’s been left behind so many times.”

And oh, okay. Robin gets it now. Steve is slowly closing the loops, allowing her to realize what’s happening in his head.

“Robin he makes me so fucking happy. He makes me feel like I have a-a shot at a good fucking life, no matter how plain it turns out to be. I’m terrified I’m going to push and push, a-and take and take and he’s going to realize that he’s in way over his head with me and that I’m too much and then it’s—” Steve cuts himself off again with a sound achingly similar to a dry sob. Robin regrets cornering him in a crowded diner.

She's not a particularly touchy feely person, never has been, but sometimes she knows that’s what Steve needs. She knows that she would take on the world for him, so a little physical affection has never been difficult for her when it comes to comforting him, and she wants nothing more than to wrap Steve up in her arms right now, provide any comfort she can because she knows that, ultimately, what Steve is saying is true.

Steve has never been blind to his own flaws. In fact, he’s always been acutely aware of them. She thinks that’s why it was so easy for him to grow, to learn once he distanced himself from the expectations of his father and his shitty highschool friends. He’s always known where his weak points are, and they both know he used them as daggers in highschool. Used them to twist himself up into something he wasn’t in order to hide them. He’s different now, wears his flaws as a badge of honor instead of a reason to cause harm, but they both know he’s still startlingly aware of them. They’re both aware they twist Steve up inside, cutting him like the barbed words he used to use.

Steve is desperate for love. It’s in the way that Steve blooms under compliments, it’s in the way he’s always trying. Over and over. Even when they all dog him for messing up, for saying something stupid, he still tries.

It was in the way he tried so hard to encourage Robin to pursue Vickie, even if that ended in heartbreak. It’s in the way he supports Robin dating his ex. It’s in the way he leans into every casual touch, in the way he seeks out constant company.

And it’s in the way he is with Eddie, now. Once she’s removed the layer of fond disgust, she can see what’s been there the whole time.

Steve loves Eddie. He loves him with a desperation that’s bordering on obsessive because that’s just the way Steve loves. Nobody ever taught him moderation—nobody took the time to tell Steve that loving someone with your entire heart and more is just a direct pipeline to getting your heart broken.

Robin knows that Steve has only loved one other person like this, and that the end of that relationship rocked his very foundation.

Steve confessed to her, once and only once, that losing Nancy had quietly devastated him. In hindsight, he realized that they both had unrealistic expectations for each other and he’d been clinging on to a fractured relationship way before they finally shook apart, but Robin will never forget the tone of Steve’s voice when he told her that Nancy Wheeler had broken his heart.

Robin’s long since talked to both Nancy and Steve about the subject—didn’t quite believe Steve when he’d said he was over her, back when Robin had been harboring her own shameful crush—and knows that Steve and Nancy had had their own discussion on the break up, that they’d made their own amends and knew the fault didn’t lie with just one party.

Still, Nancy’s voice was eerily similar to the quiet devastation of Steve’s when she admitted that Steve had told her he loved her so much he hated her. Robin would be lying if she said that didn’t break her heart.

Robin’s point is: she knows Steve is desperate for love, but she’s never seen him run from it. She knows he’s only ever been in love like this once before, knows it took him years to get over Nancy Wheeler, but it’s never stopped Steve from trying.

Robin can put a lot of the pieces together, but she just can’t figure out why Steve is hiding—why he’s holding himself back so much when he’s always loved so openly before—but maybe it’s the thought of Eddie running from that love that scares him. Sure, Nancy didn’t return the love, but she didn’t turn tail and run from the way Steve loves. She eased him out of it, and Robin can admit to herself that seeing someone actively run from the love you’re giving them is much different from them simply not returning it.

“It’s what, Steve?” She prods gently, focusing her thoughts back on the present, on Steve’s turmoil playing out in front of her.

“It’s like what do I do with myself at that point? I’m not—“ Steve bites his lips, squeezes his eyes shut for a second before blinking them back open, “I’m not good at a lot, Robbie, I know that. And one of those things is holding back. I-I don’t know how to make myself less. How to make sure Eddie doesn’t feel so suffocated by me that he runs.”

Steve’s eyes are suddenly desperate when he says, “how do I make myself less, Robin? How do I not scare Eddie off?”

Robin‘s heart breaks all over again. She reaches across the table, taking one of Steve’s clenched hands into both of her own. How does she make Steve see that Eddie won’t do that. She doesn’t know how she knows, but she just does.

“Steve, that’s not—look, you don’t have to change yourself for Eddie. I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. I’ve seen the way both of you light up when the other walks in the room. Quite frankly, it’s gross.” Robin squeezes Steve’s hand, making sure he’s looking at her when she says this next part.

“Steve Harrington, I have been forced to witness your reactions to the weird, weird things Eddie does and the way Eddie just blooms under that attention. I have watched that boy turn into a gooey mess when you show him the slightest bit of attention.

“Steve, talk to him. I can almost guarantee it’ll turn out better than you think.”

Steve’s eyes drop to their clasped hands, his shoulders still tight and impending heartbreak still clearly on his mind.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve murmurs, “I’ll think about it.”

***

It takes five days for Robin to realize that Steve took her advice and talked to Eddie. Five days spent in ignorant bliss.

Five days where she didn’t have the sight of Eddie and Steve having some very nerdy private time seared into her retinas.

Jesus Christ, was Steve wearing armor? What the fuck was that voice Eddie was using?!?

Robin hears Eddie’s dreamy ‘god I love you so much’ and Steve’s very enthusiastic response as she high tails it out of the house.

On her way down the porch, she wonders if there's such a thing as bleach for your senses. Eyes, ears, whatever. Anything to scrub her mind of what she just witnessed. Almost considers seeing if that Russian scientist is still wandering around with some kind of memory wipe serum.

She would buy the whole lot of it.

[the-little-ewok]

I've never done a request before! Could you do tummy kisses with a plus size reader? I'm always down for nsfw but you decide where it goes! Please and thank you 😁

- @mandinlore

Every inch of you

Santiago Garcia X Plus size F!Reader

Rating : E / 18+

Word count : 2300 (ish)

Warnings : Reader is plus size, Explicit, Oral (f- receiving), lack of body confidence, insecurities, love bites, one actual bite, quick fingering, soft Santi being soft. And I do mean soft. (Yea it's cliché. I have no regrets)

Prompt/Summary : Tummy kisses/ Santiago helps show you how perfect you are

A/N : Keep the prompts short, she says, ease yourself back into writing she says…. Hahahaha enjoy your 2k ;) I got carried away. @mandinlore

Also thank you for requesting plus size! As a curvy girl myself, I absolutely loved writing this!

Side note - if anyone (who has prompts outstanding or wants to send new requests) wants a specific reader (plus size, short girl, specific job etc) please don't feel shy about asking! I'll do my best to write it!

"Cariño, you gotta tell me what's wrong? We can take things slow if that's what you want. You already know you're in control here. But, is something else wrong?" Santi sighs, sitting back on the couch after you pushed him away, yet again, before things could go too far. You couldn't blame his reaction, not after you had been hot and cold for weeks now.

Everytime he had tried to take things further, into anything that involves you removing clothing, you had made excuses to stop. He'd always backed off without complaint, reassuring you that he'll wait until you're ready, but you know he's starting to suspect there's more that you're hiding. God damn over observant Santiago Garcia. His military training served him too well in that.

The truth was, it wasn't that you didn't want things to go too far. In fact, you wanted very much to have his body pressed up against yours, his mouth against your skin, his cock buried deep inside you.

But for that to happen he had to see your body. And that was what scared you the most.

"Hey." His voice, and his fingers gripping your chin, turning your face to force you to look at him, rips you from your thoughts.

Meeting his questioning gaze you're struck, and not for the first time, by how pretty he is. Especially now — hair tousled by your fingers, eyes bright with lust, lips kiss swollen, cheeks flushed.

It makes you want to drag him back down onto the couch and lose yourself in his kisses once more.

"Tell me where your head is at," he pleads, his gaze soft. "Whatever it is, we can talk about it.

"I don't want to take it slow," you whisper, swallowing hard, sliding your vision away from him, even as he holds your face. You focus your eyes on the coffee table, the empty glasses and half eaten snacks, the movie still playing quietly in the background. You had stopped watching some time ago when you caught him watching you more than the film.

"There's a but coming, right?" Santi prompts when you lapse into silence.

"It's just…"

It's just I don't want you to be disappointed.

It's just I don't look like your exes.

It's just I don't think you'll want me.

You trail off, struggling to find the words to explain your fears.

"It's just, what?" Santi presses, his tone still gentle as ever.

"Idontwantyoutoseeme," you mumble out quickly, flicking your eyes back to him for a split second before you look away again.

Santi lets out a sigh, although it's not one of impatience, or disappointment. It sounds more like he might be… relieved.

"That's what you're worried about? Jesus, you scared me." He gives a small chuckle, shaking his head as he takes your face in both his hands, which forces your gaze back to his. For a long moment, he studies you, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"You are beautiful," he states simply before his hands drop to your waist and he shifts, leaning over you and guiding you back to lie down against the couch, once more taking up his position over you, nestling himself between your thighs.

"Have you noticed what you do to me?" He asks, hammering home his point by pressing the bulge in his pants up against your core, making you gasp, despite the anxiety coiled tight in your stomach.

"With my clothes on maybe," you mumble, unable to quiet the vicious thoughts still seeping through.

"I want to see you. I want to see all of you. You don't have to hide from me," he whispers against the shell of your ear, dipping his head to place a trail of kisses down your neck.

"I don't think you'll like what you see." Even as the fear builds you can't stop the moan that steals its way from your lips as he seals his lips against your neck, sucking a mark there.

"Can I be the judge of that?" He asks, leaning up on his arms to look at you. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." Your response comes with no hesitation. You don't even have to think about it. You do, wholeheartedly, entirely, trust him. He's done more than enough to earn that trust from you.

"I'm not going to force you into anything you don't want to do, but please trust me when I say I will love every inch of you."

The sincerity in his voice makes tears prick your eyes.

You swallow hard, still arguing with the voice in the back of your mind that tells you you aren't good enough for him, that he won't want you.

Santiago waits patiently while you muddle through your thoughts.

After a long moment, what feels like a millennia of debating, you give him a nod, and watch his smile transform into one of absolute pride.

"If you're uncomfortable at any time, stop me, okay?" He requests, and you nod again, not trusting your voice not to waiver if you answered.

He captures your lips once more in a long, slow, passionate kiss. His tongue mapping out every corner of your mouth, sliding along yours, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, keeping you breathless.

This time when his hands begin to tug the hem of your shirt up, you don't stop him.

He unpeels each layer of your clothes carefully, waiting for you to relax before he moves on to the next, almost maddeningly slow in his actions. Still, you appreciate his patience.

When you're finally fully bared, what feels like an age later, he sits back, dropping your panties to the floor as his eyes roam the flesh laid out before him.

You feel sick, dizzy with anxiety, waiting for him to realise how bad you look, how much he doesn't want you, to make excuses for you to leave.

Santiago does none of those things.

Instead, he lets out a low groan.

"Shit, you are incredible."

You could almost think he was lying, just to make you feel better, but as you look up at him, his eyes hooded, pupils blown wide, licking his lips like you were a meal he's been waiting all day for, you could actually kid yourself into believing him.

You squirm under his unwavering gaze, your hands automatically going to cover your stomach, twisting away from him.

Santi`s eyebrows pull together in a deep frown, shaking his head.

"Don't do that. Don't ever do that again. Not with me," he scolds you softly as he pries your hands away from your body, pinning them down to the couch.

Leaning over you he captures your lips, his kisses tender and loving. His hands wander your body slowly, mapping each curve as he grinds himself against your core. Each slow roll of his hips pushes the zipper of his jeans up against your clit, drawing muffled moans from your lips. Each sound you make he swallows as though they were a vintage wine, something to be savoured.

"Want to make you feel good," he slurs, finally giving you a moment to breathe. "Can I make you feel good?"

Still unable to form words, you nod, probably a little too enthusiastically, causing Santi's eyes to crinkle as he grins.

"Yeah?" He confirms, moving his kisses down to your breasts, peppering them with soft brushes of his lips. "Baby gonna be good and let me kiss her all over?"

You can feel the slick wetness pooling between your legs, the heat blazing across your skin, the blood roaring in your ears, and the ever present anxiety nipping at your thoughts, a constant companion which never seems to quiet.

Well, that is until Santi bites your nipple, turning your yelp at the sharp pain, into a moan as he soothes it with his tongue.

After that, all your thoughts, good and bad, begin to get a little hazy.

"Mmmm I like that noise," he hums, lathering your other breast with the same attention, making you struggle to catch your breath with the pleasure he was already wringing from you.

As his kisses trail lower, his lips pressing against the plush of your stomach, you can't help but try to curl in on yourself, trying to hide as much as you can in the small space of the couch.

It's a pointless endeavour. Santi's mouth pays particular attention to every part you try to twist away, or subtly hide as you move your arms.

He spends an age trailing soft kisses all the way across your stomach, before working his way back to your naval, and then down, leaving tiny love bites in his wake. A trail marking you as his over all the places you hate, before he stops, head between your already trembling thighs, looking up at you.

When your eyes meet his, he grins before he dips his head, holding your gaze as he thrusts his tongue deep inside you.

Your head slams back against the arm of the couch, your eyes squeezing shut, the image of his face buried in your pussy blazing behind your eyelids. You choke back a moan as his tongue loops up around your clit, before back down to taste you again.

"Keep making noises like that and we're going to have a problem," he warns, warm breath fanning out across your already heated skin, making you squirm with the stimulation.

You have no idea what problem he's talking about, and as his tongue slides through your folds, up to circle your clit a second time, you really couldn't care less about it either.

Your back arches as you chase the warm pleasure of his mouth, a groan of his name falling from your lips. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, holding you open for him as he feasts on your pussy like a starved man.

Curses and praises fall freely from your lips, accompanied by whimpers and moans as he expertly coaxes you closer and closer to the edge, all your anxieties silenced by the overwhelming pleasure that stops you from concentrating on anything else.

Santi groans, a noise that vibrates through your entire core, and pushes you dangerously close to the edge. When one of his hands disappears from your thigh, you can't help but open your eyes to glance down at him, your breath catching.

His eyes are closed, a look of pure bliss you haven't seen before on his face, as his tongue laps languidly at your slick cunt, while he palms his hard cock through his pants.

You throw your head back once more with a whine, unable to continue to watch him as he chooses that moment to seal his lips over your clit and suck, hard.

The vision of him, the overwhelming pleasure, the heat of his mouth, is too much, and you come undone with a strangled cry, your body trembling, and your vision going white as the pleasure crests and crashes over you.

Even through the roaring noise of blood in your ears, and the way your orgasm makes your mind fuzzy, you still catch the tail end of Santiago's gasped curse, followed by a low, broken groan. You can't help but think it sounds suspiciously like….

You don't even get to fully finish the thought before your body shudders in desire. That couldn't be the case when you haven't even touched him.

Then again the look on his face before…

When you can finally feel your limbs again you lean up on your elbows to look down your body at him, as he, somewhat awkwardly, sits back on his heels, a wet patch blooming out on his pants.

"Santi…did you…?" You swallow, trailing off as he looks somewhat abashed.

"Um, yeah," he admits, an unmistakable blush forming on his cheeks.

"Because of….me?" You ask quietly, feeling a strange sense of pride that, even as you are, you were able to do that to him.

"Oh, enjoying this, are we?" Santi laughs teasingly, relaxing a little when he sees your wide eyed surprise and the smile you're trying to bite down.

Putting his arms either side of you, he cages you in, as he runs his nose up the length of your neck. Even the lightest of touches makes your body shiver with desire.

"Maybe…a bit," you admit, a little distractedly as he places a kiss below your ear, pressing his body against yours, clearly knowing exactly what he's doing to you.

"Good," he mumbles into your skin. "Although next time I cum I want to be buried inside you."

He whispers it so sinfully low in your ear, you swear you could cum again just from his words.

Your breath catches and you can feel Santiago's smug smile against your neck, where he's still busy pressing soft kisses.

"I'm a little bit disappointed though," you manage to swallow out, trying to ignore the way his hand is skimming across your sweat damp skin, down the outside of your thigh, before slowly working its way back up.

Santi pulls back to look at you so quickly, you're surprised he doesn't put his back out.

"Disappointed?"

You can't quite tell if it's outrage or concern, that laces his tone, but whichever it is, you can't stop the laugh that bubbles up and out of your mouth, only making him frown more deeply.

"Cariño," he starts, stopping when you put a hand over his mouth to interrupt him.

"I'm disappointed I didn't get to see you."

It takes a moment for him to catch up, still clearly trying to work out what he has done wrong to disappoint you, but the moment it clicks his face transforms into a wolfish grin.

"Well, give me half an hour and I'll show you anything you want," he winks. "For now I guess I'll go back to admiring you." His eyes flicker once more down your body, surveying you like prey.

It makes your pussy clench.

"You really mean it don't you?" You whisper as he tilts his head in question. "You do like me the way I am?"

"I really mean it," he confirms seriously, "you are perfect."

He doesn't give you much time to think too hard about his confirmation, or really anything at all. Leaning back into you he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, clearly working on making you forget your own name.

You wrap one hand around the back of his neck, holding him to you as the other slips down his back to playfully squeeze his ass, drawing a low growl from the man above you.

Santiago is quick enough to get his revenge, slipping a hand between your bodies to brush his fingers against your clit.

You let out a gasp, and shudder with the over stimulation, as his fingers draw tight circles against your sensitive nub.

"You said half an hour," you practically whimper, unable to stop your hips canting up against his hand.

"For me. I didn't say you get a break." He smirks, slipping a finger into your wet heat, drawing another broken sound from you. "I want you to make those pretty sounds for me again… and again… and again."

-------------

If you enjoyed this please, please, reblog and tell me your thoughts! Reblogs and feedback are so important to content creators. It keeps us creating!

Special thank you to my patient, most lovely beta, who puts up with every smutty Santi thought that enters my brain @beldroxramscal

I no longer run a taglist. If you are 18+ please follow my blog and check the master list for updates. More fics are coming 👀

[sexyandhedonistic]

Neville Goddard lecture summaries

⚜️⋮ No One to Change but Self

⚜️   If ye believe not that I am He, ye shall die in your sins.

Enlightened reason is not enslaved by public opinion. It is only concerned with the truth so it asks itself another question, "But whom say ye that I am?" In other words, "Who am I?" If I am bold enough to assume that I am Christ Jesus, the answer will come back, "Thou are Christ Jesus." 

Enlightened reason: reason based on that universal truth, your assumptions. 

Public opinion: 3D circumstances

Your conception of self is not dependent on anything outside of you. The assumptions you accepted as universal truths, or facts, are not to be suppressed by your circumstances in the third dimension. You get to decide who you are and what your assumptions of the world around you look like, you declare yourself to be whoever it is you would like to be. If you ask yourself,  “Who am I?”, only you can conceptualize the answer to that question. Jesus symbolizes infinite potential, so if you are Jesus Christ, you can be anything you want to be when you neglect what you previously deemed a universal truth (fact).

"If ye believe not that I am He, ye shall die in your sins." John 8:24

To die in your sins means to remain trapped in the old story. If you refuse to accept that you are who you desire to be, if you fail to assume you are in consciousness, then you remain as you are and you die imprisoned in that limitation.

⚜️   I am the cause of all that happens to me.

I may not like what I have just heard, that I must turn to my own consciousness as the only reality, the only foundation on which all phenomena can be explained. It was easier living when I could blame another. It was much easier living when I could blame society for my ills, or point a finger across the sea. and blame another nation. It was easier living when I could blame the weather for the way I feel. But to tell me that I am the cause of all that happens to me that I am forever molding my world in harmony with my inner nature, that is more than man is willing to accept. If this is true, to whom would I go? If these are the words of eternal life, I must return to them, even though they seem so difficult to digest. When man fully understands this, he knows that public opinion does not matter, for men only tell him who he is. The behavior of men constantly tell me who I have conceived myself to be.

Accepting oneself to be the cause of all that has happened can be a difficult idea to digest and while it may feel like it imposes blame upon oneself for all that has happened, it actually proposes the beauty of control and the knowledge of the fact that we are above the circumstance rather than the other way around. Instead of allowing yourself to be rendered a victim to your unfavorable circumstances, you acknowledge yourself as the sole cause, the originator of all. When you step into the acceptance of this fact, it becomes substantially less daunting to feel like the world is against you, because the world is you. As Neville says himself, this is not something everyone will be comfortable with or even willing to accept. Since you are the cause of all, it is truly empowering to know that if you were the cause of the unfavorable, then you can also be the cause of the favorable. You do not need to continue to live in a world that is operating by/with/from your negative assumptions about it. You have the power within to change it.

It is far better to know this than to know anything else in the world. It takes courage, boundless courage, because many this night, after having heard this truth will still be inclined to blame others for their predicament. Man finds it so difficult to turn to himself, to his own consciousness as to the only reality.

⚜️   The son of perdition - the belief in loss

It is impossible for anything to be lost. In this divine economy nothing can be lost, it cannot even pass away. The little flower which has bloomed once, blooms forever. It is invisible to you here with your limited focus, but it blooms forever in the larger dimension of your being, and tomorrow you will encounter it… The son of perdition means simply the belief in loss. Son is a concept, an idea. Perdido is loss. I have only truly lost the concept of loss, for nothing can be lost. I can descend from the sphere where the thing itself now lives, and as I descend in consciousness to a lower level within myself it passes from my world. I say, "I have lost my health. I have lost my wealth. I have lost my standing in the community. I have lost faith. I have lost a thousand things." But the things in themselves, having once been real in my world, can never cease to be. They never become unreal with the passage of time. 

It doesn’t matter if you are poor, hopeless and ill, no circumstance is ever set in stone. You can never truly lose your capacity to rise from what you don’t want and turn to consciousness to claim that which you desire to be. All exists and all will continue to exist. A descent in consciousness refers to becoming conscious of something you don’t want. Although you may be conscious at the moment of something undesirable, all it takes for you to reclaim what you once had is to simply rise to the level of consciousness of you having it once more. When you ascend to a higher level of consciousness, you seek a desirable state.

⚜️   You always bear fruit in harmony with what you are.

You always bear fruit in harmony with what you are. It is the most natural thing in the world for a pear tree to bear pears, an apple tree to bear apples, and for man to mold the circumstances of his life in harmony with his inner nature… All I need do to change the fruit is to change the vine. You have no life in my world save that I am conscious of you. You are rooted in me and, like fruit, you bear witness of the vine that I am. There is no reality in the world other than your consciousness. Although you may now seem to be what you do not want to be, all you need do to change it, and to prove the change by circumstances in your world, is to quietly assume that you are that which you now want to be, and in a way you do not know you will become it.

The fruit: 3D circumstances

The vine: your self concept

Your consciousness, what you are aware of and currently accepting as a fact, will always follow your conception of self. If you want to change what you experience, you change your self concept.

Since the fruit stems from the vine, how do you change your world? By first changing your conception of self. What are you conscious of being? The circumstances in your life will answer that question.

⚜️   Your consciousness is the only true foundation in the world.

If I can deny the limitations of my birth, my environment, and the belief that I am but an extension of my family tree, and feel within myself that I am Christ, and sustain this assumption until it takes a central place and forms the habitual center of my energy, I will do the works attributed to Jesus… Any enlargement of our concept of Self involves a somewhat painful parting with strongly rooted hereditary conceptions. The ligaments are strong that hold us in the womb of conventional limitations. 

You are above the assumptions and limitations you have been confined to your whole life. Everything you once accepted to be true ceases to be true once you realize that you cannot turn to anyone or anything outside of you. You will forever fail to find something or someone to blame your problems on because you will always be both the cause and the solution. There is no other God because God is your own consciousness. All that you need in order to beautify your world is to see yourself as beautiful.

⚜️   As within, so without.

No clear conception of the origin of phenomena is possible except that consciousness is all and all is consciousness. Nothing can be evolved from man that was not potentially involved in his nature. The ideal we serve and hope to attain could never be evolved from us were it not potentially involved in our nature… It is thus to our own consciousness that we must turn as to the only reality, the only foundation on which all phenomena can be explained. We can rely absolutely on the justice of this law to give us only that which is of the nature of ourselves. To attempt to change the world before we change our concept of ourselves is to struggle against the nature of things. There can be no outer change until there is first an inner change. Everything we do, unaccompanied by a change of consciousness, is but futile readjustment of surfaces.

The circumstances of my life are too closely related to my conception of myself not to have been formed by my own spirit from some dimensionally larger storehouse of my being. If there is pain to me in these happenings, I should look within myself for the cause, for I am moved here and there and made to live in a world in harmony with my concept of myself.

⚜️   To the pure all things are pure.

No matter what is brought before the presence of beauty, it sees only beauty. Jesus was so completely identified with the lovely that He was incapable of seeing the unlovely… Heretofore I thought I could change others through effort. Now I know I cannot change another unless I first change myself. To change another within my world I must first change my concept of that other; and to do it best I change my concept of self. For it was the concept I held of self that made me see others as I did. Had I a noble, dignified concept of myself, I never could have seen the unlovely in others. I need change no man, I sanctify myself and in so doing I sanctify others. All you need do to make men and women holy in this world is to make yourself holy. You are incapable of seeing anything that is unlovely when you establish within your own mind's eye the fact that you are lovely.   

The condition of your self concept will dictate how you see the people, the world and circumstances as either good or bad, clean or unclean. People serve as messengers of your self concept, through their behavior towards you they will indicate who you are to yourself. If you desire for someone to be other than what they currently are, you must first change your conception of self and be what you would like for them to be. When you change yourself, you change others. Through consciousness, your I AMness, is how you enrich your world, there is no other way.

You will change the world only when you become the embodiment of that which you want the world to be. You have but one gift in this world that is truly yours to give and that is yourself. Unless you yourself are that which you want the world to be, you will never see it in this world. "Except ye believe not that I am he, ye shall die in your sins." John 8:24 

⚜️   Jesus and the colt.

It is recorded that Jesus told his disciples to go to the crossroads and there they would find a colt, a young colt not yet ridden by a man. To bring the colt to him and if any man ask, "Why do you take this colt?" say, "The Lord has need of it." They went to the crossroads and found the colt and did exactly as they were told. They brought the unbridled ass to Jesus and He rode it triumphantly into Jerusalem. 

In the story, you are Jesus and the colt symbolizes the mood you intend to assume. Colts, much like a feeling that is new to you, is difficult to grasp unless you are disciplined and persistent. In order to be loyal to an assumption you must be balanced, so if you look around and check to determine whether or not it is done, you will be knocked off the colt. However, if you decide to be disciplined and remain faithful to the mood with a fixed attitude of mind, feeling that it is done, you will triumph.

⚜️   If you look for excuses for failure you will always find them.

Man is always looking for some prop on which to lean. He is always looking for some excuse to justify failure. This revelation gives man no excuse for failure. His concept of himself is the cause of all the circumstances of his life. All changes must first come from within himself; and if he does not change on the outside it is because he has not changed within. But man does not like to feel that he is solely responsible for the conditions of his life.

You cannot blame another thing or another person for your own failure. As much as you may be compelled to find another outside of you to shift your blame to for comfort's sake, you cannot escape yourself, because the whole vast world is yourself pushed out.

"There is no one to change but self; that self is simply your awareness, your consciousness and the world in which it lives is determined by the concept you hold of self. It is to consciousness that we must turn as to the only reality. For there is no clear conception of the origin of phenomena except that consciousness is all and all is consciousness.

[in-my-loki-feels]

🖤 President Loki + Don (I feel like this one is hard mode.)

This was a little hard, but I do love a challenge. <3 (Also, tumblr was being bitchy so sorry the indents are weird.)

tw blood/wounds

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

“Do not open this door under any circumstances.” Loki dropped his hands to his sides and twin daggers appeared in them. A portal opened in place of the front door, giving Don a brief glimpse of the task force gathered outside. Then Loki stepped through and it closed behind him.  “Okay, boys, upstairs,” Don said. He hurried them into the second floor’s bathroom, as if this were a storm they were hiding from.  Well, they didn’t write about how to survive a siege in any of the parenting books he’d read.  “Is Loki gonna be okay?” Sean asked.  “He’ll be fine,” Don said. Then the gunfire started. 

They all flinched at the sound, Don instinctively trying to cover the boys with his body even though it was muffled and obviously outside. He got them all down on the floor and said, “Sean, cover your ears.” 

He put his own hands over Kevin's ears. Both boys stared at him in mute terror. Don tried to mask his own fear, but it was clawing up his insides.  They all knew Loki was extremely powerful, a god, with who knew how much magic at his disposal. He'd be fine. Don kept telling himself that as they clung to each other, shivering and waiting for the fight to end. He didn’t know how long it took but eventually there was silence. Don strained to hear any kind of sound, good or bad.  “There. Hardly worth the effort.” The sound of Loki's voice from inside the house had Don jumping to his feet.  “Stay here,” he told his sons and rushed out into the hall and down the stairs.  Loki stood in front of the front door, seemingly unharmed. He looked up at Don with a smug smile.  “Oh, thank god.” Don almost fell down the stairs in his rush to reach Loki, but when he tried to hug him, he passed through the space where Loki should be. The Loki who’d been in front of him vanished.  “Damn. I should have expected that.”  It was Loki's voice, strained and coming from Don's left. He turned and found Loki slouched against the wall, looking halfway to collapsing on the floor. Sweat beaded his brow and he had both hands pressed to his side. Dark red blood seeped through his fingers and stained his suit coat. “Oh, my god.”  “What’s wrong? Is Loki hurt?” Kevin called out   “Can we come downstairs?” Sean said. 

“No!” Don shouted, then closed his eyes and took a breath. His fear would only make theirs worse. “Stay upstairs for now, please.” “I thought I’d made it clear I was to be your only god,” Loki said with a half-smile, before sliding down to land on his ass.  “Jesus, Loki.” Don dropped to his knees beside him. “What do I do?” There was so much blood. They needed to stop it somehow, but he was too afraid to leave Loki’s side. He swallowed, then raised his voice. “Sean, can you bring me the first aid kit under the sink and some towels?” In a quieter tone, he asked, “Are they all...?” “Of course they’re dead. What do you take me for?” Loki tried to roll his eyes but didn’t seem to have the energy for it. “Dead or wishing they were, anyway.”  Two sets of feet thundered down the staircase—of course, there was no way Kevin would have stayed up there—and Don stood quickly to try and block their view. He was too late. Both boys peered around him with wide eyes, their faces pale with fear.  “Are you gonna die?” Kevin whispered.  “I am a god, you simple child,” Loki said, but in place of his usual venom there was only exhaustion. “I will not be brought down by something as absurd as this.” Will not, instead of cannot. So he could die. Don had known he wasn’t invincible but it still wasn’t a truth he wanted to face. He suddenly couldn’t breathe and his eyes burned. The brave face he was clinging to for the boys’ sake was slipping.  “Sean, Kevin, go back upstairs. I’ll be up in a second, okay?”  “Shouldn’t we call—”  “Just go. Please.” He wasn’t sure they would listen, but they stared at Loki a moment more and then retreated back upstairs.  Don returned his attention to Loki, whose eyes were closed now. He pulled Loki’s hands away from the wound and pushed aside his clothes. Don’s stomach flipped at what he found.  It seemed like a gunshot wound, but Don couldn’t look at it for long. He fumbled for the first aid kit, leaving smears of Loki’s blood on it. His hands were shaking so much he almost couldn't open the gauze packet, but it finally tore in half and he pressed the square that fell out against the wound in Loki's abdomen. Loki flinched but didn't make a sound. He was somehow even paler than before.  Something splashed onto the back of Don’s hand as he struggled with a second packet. It happened again, drops of water falling to mix with the blood. No, tears. Now that they'd started Don couldn't seem to stop them. He blinked furiously to clear his vision and pressed the second gauze patch over the first, which was already turning red. He placed Loki’s hand over the spot and was alarmed by how pliant Loki was.  “Loki?” No response. “Hey, open your eyes.” 

When Loki still didn’t react, Don leaned forward to kiss him. It was stupid, this wasn’t a fairytale where a kiss healed all, but he didn’t know what else to do.  Loki’s lips were slack for two horrifyingly long seconds before he made a small sound and began to kiss Don back. Don could taste the saltiness of his own tears and the metallic tang of Loki’s blood. He brought a hand up to Loki’s cheek as the kiss became more desperate, trying to hide from the terrifying reality that awaited him once he stopped. But it couldn’t last forever. When he pulled back, Loki’s eyes were open in slits; he seemed to be making an effort to stay awake now.    “You can’t die, okay?” Don said. “The boys would really hate it if you did.” It was barely a joke, with his voice shaking as much as it was, but he saw the corner of Loki’s mouth twitch.  “Wouldn't be the first time,” Loki mumbled, which didn’t help the panic churning in Don’s chest.   In a minute, Don would tape the gauze down, then go wash his hands and find the boys to tell them that everything would be all right. He'd check the front lawn to see if there were bodies to explain to the neighbors, and try to get Loki laid out more comfortably.  But for now, he stayed by Loki’s side, covering Loki’s hand with his own, and tried to find reassurance in the rise and fall of his stomach. 

From this ask game.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Which tvtropes terms do you think best describes the bible: God and Satan Are Both Jerks, or God is Evil while Satan is Good?

For most of the bible, Satan is largely a non-entity. You would think, to listen to the religious, that the bible was filled with episode after episode of Satan and "Lord" duking it out, like Batman and the Joker endlessly doing battle. But for the most part, it's "Lord" conducting his own war on humanity.

Satan freed humanity from ignorant servitude in the Garden of Eden, and exposed God's dishonesty. But then he also participated in the harassment and torture of Job. He also "tempted" - aka "tested" - Jesus, and given he has neither the power nor authority to give the whole world to Jesus, this has "Lord's" grubby fingerprints all over it. Unless he does have the power and authority to give the whole world to Jesus, in which case Xians have a very large problem on their hands.

I do find it amusing that Satan still has a key to "Lord's" house and can just come and go as he pleases. And even when "Lord" spots Satan, he doesn't summon up his god-powers to destroy Satan, or even say, "you don't belong here, get the hell out." Instead, he says, "hey, while you're here, what do you think of my pal Job?" When Satan points out that Job is loyal because you gave him all this stuff, obvs, Lord says, "I give you permission, authority and power to screw with his life, you're just not allowed to touch him directly"

Satan should gone to Job and told him what "Lord" had come up with. "Lord" would have either had to lie and shown himself to us as the villain, or would have had to tell the truth and shown Satan to be the honest hero. Since Satan has no reason to protect "Lord," the story really only works if Satan works for "Lord."

Or it's just a bad story with continuity that betrays the fact it's written by ideologues who want you to accept their flawed, authoritarian morality, rather than understanding or even caring to tell a coherent story that maintains its internal consistency. Much like The Acolyte.

But the majority of the evil in the bible is conducted by "Lord" himself, and/or the humans, often at the command of "Lord."

Numbers 31:7-18

And they warred against the Midianites, as the Lord commanded Moses; and they slew all the males.

[..]

Now therefore kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman that hath known man by lying with him.

But all the women children, that have not known a man by lying with him, keep alive for yourselves.

With Gods like these, who needs Satans?

And with a god like this, anyone who is identified as a literal "adversary" against him has got to be at least benign, maybe even benevolent.

I'm sure some apologist would turn around and say that although Satan wasn't in the bible directly that much, he was influencing and "in the hearts of" people who did bad things. Which eliminates their ability to insist that "god didn't tell them to do that" when I bring up terrible things believers did in the name of "Lord." And I bet I can find far more of those. Not just in the bible, but throughout history.

So, in short, I think Satan is overblown in general, though it is, of course, obvious why priests would be determined to convince you otherwise. Part of the scam of selling you an imaginary solution is to convince you of an imaginary problem.

If I was to place Satan onto a character alignment chart, I'd put him under Chaotic Neutral.

But given a binary choice between "God and Satan Are Both Jerks" and "God is Evil"/"Satan is Good," I'd have to pick the latter over the former.