#this boy thinks they came from the same suburb

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia! I’m the anon who asked if the Raven Prince had a Welsh accent. I assumed he did because in The Ice Plague Book 2 chapter 26, Eran says “The adar llwch gwin? Gwyn said they respond to a master, and that they’re like magical birds from wherever Gwyn and the Raven Prince and Augus and Ash are from” and I’d just assumed that was Wales or the Fae equivalent, but English isn’t my first language so I think I just misunderstood.

Hi anon!

Okay firstly I owe you an apology, his homeland is mentioned in a side canon AU - These Troubled Times - as being Wales. I'd just completely forgotten because I don't have that written down anywhere (except in the stories lol - and I checked the main canon and it's not written in that 1.5 million words), and I wrote that story almost 9 years ago to the day.

But I did want to say - Eran saying 'wherever these guys are from' - he has no idea where the Raven Prince is from, he's been an unreliable narrator from the start, from like... calling Gwyn the Traitor King, to making assumptions about Gwyn's motives and behaviours, he has no reason to really know anything concrete about the Raven Prince beyond a very loose understanding of folklore and that's it.

The concrete statement is in These Troubled Times which if you haven't read yet, I highly recommend it! (And the story before it, A Broken Feather Straightened). (And also no, the Raven Prince has zero Welsh accent and also rarely speaks Welsh and doesn't tell people where he's from. He doesn't want them to know, for the most part, and I think I got folded back into that at some point lmao)

I made a mistake, but also Eran is an unreliable narrator and you cannot trust anything he thinks about these fae. What he says about his own homeland? Sure. What he thinks about other characters? Ehhh, until they say it themselves, it's best just to think that he and Mosk are unreliable (like most of my narrators).

[lovebugism]

hello sweetheart, i read your prompt list and saw this one "hug?” “clingy, much?……” but hugs them anyway and my heart melted, i don't know if you already did this, but can we have something like that with our sweet but grumpy eddie? 🤍

ty for requesting! — eddie doesn't know why you're avoiding him (fluff, ditzy!reader, 0.9k)

Eddie lost sight of you ten minutes ago. 

You were squished between Robin and Steve on the loveseat last he saw you, giggling into your solo cup while they belted Total Eclipse of the Heart to you — at you — over the music and in their best Muppet impressions. 

He only remembers it so vividly ‘cause he was jealous. Not jealous because you were subjected to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum’s drunken antics, of course, but jealous because you were with them. And so, so far away. 

Now you’re gone, and he misses you like a stray dog — aggressive and hungry and hurt. He walks up to Steve in the kitchen just the same. Hair wild. Button eyes glittering. Slightly reluctant. 

“Where’d she go?!” he shouts over the music, half-muffled into his drink. He uses the plastic cup like a shield ‘cause he doesn’t want people to know he’s missing you. The metalhead freak from the wrong side of town isn’t supposed to need the ball of sunshine from the suburbs. 

But alas.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Steve slurs, half-distracted as he pours himself a drink. He doesn’t need Eddie to tell him who she is. There’s only one person in the whole world he’d go looking for. “She went outside with Robin, I think—”

Eddie spins on the worn heel of his sneaker before the words can properly leave his mouth. He ducks through the bustling, drunken crowd and finds you sitting lonesome on the porch outside. Prettier than the full moon and all the stars in the velvet black sky combined. 

He walks to stand beside you, shoes thunking heavy on the wooden deck. You tilt your chin to smile brightly up at him while he slips a cig into his mouth. He cups the stick as he lights it. Pretends that’s what he came out here for. Not to see you, of course. 

Definitely not.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he mumbles beneath the cigarette in his mouth.

“Robin just left,” you answer plainly, half-shy.

“Why didn’t you come find me?” he asks with an air of nonchalance, still trying to play it cool. ‘Cause there’s nothing less metal than yearning.

You shrug. “‘Cause you were busy?”

It’s easier than telling him that you thought he wanted the space. Or that you actually spent the whole night aching to hang on his side — too scared of embarrassing him in front of all his friends to act on it. 

You know who you are just like you know who he is. Bubblegum pink doesn’t always go well with black. It gets in your hair. Makes everything go all sticky. It’s an acquired taste you know Eddie’s still getting used to — too much of it, and his stomach will start to hurt. So you figure it’s best to keep your distance.

You just didn’t think he was as grieved by it all as you were.

Eddie scoffs. I’m never too busy for you, he wants to say. He might’ve if he wasn’t such a coward. Instead, he blows smoke from his lungs and jokes, “I wouldn’t call keeping Argyle from crowd-surfing in the living room busy, sweetheart.”

A laugh tumbles from his plush lips. The golden sound falls over your skin like stars. You smile absentmindedly back at him as you rise from the creaking rocking chair. You plant your feet ahead of his and smooth your palms beneath his leather jacket, over his warm sides.

Eddie meets your twinkling eyes with narrowed chocolate ones. “What?”

“Hug?” you ask in a mousy voice.

The boy laughs like he’s too cool for affection, though he’d be lying if he said your offer doesn’t have his chest sparkling something fierce. He flicks the cig to the ground — sheepish gaze going with it — before snuffing it out beneath his sneaker.

“Clingy much?” he scoffs.

You nod with a proud smile. 

Eddie’s chest swirls with an unfamiliar feeling. You’re strangely brave about all this — affection and love and all things sweet enough to make him gag. 

It makes him feel like he can feel brave, too.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and holds you with all the intensity of someone wanting to swallow you whole. You hug him back just the same. “I missed you,” you murmur with your cheek squished against his chest.

“Then what’re you avoidin’ me for, huh?” he teases, chin bobbing against your head.

You pull slightly back to squint at him. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“You’ve been hangin’ out with Steve and Robin the whole night,” he grieves, hiding his sincerity behind boyish theatrics. With a feigned pout that feels totally real, he says, “And you didn’t even sit next to me when we played Never Have I Ever.”

“I thought you wanted the space,” you confess in a hushed voice.

His face screws up like he’s tasted something sour. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “You always talk about how much you like being alone and stuff, so—”

“Well, yeah! I like my space— just not from you!”

It’s likely the least metal thing he’s ever said.

“Oh,” you hum, mouth contorting into a sheepish beam. “Well… Sorry.”

“Yeah. You should be,” he scoffs, mostly joking. He pouts softly and pulls you back into him again, nosing at your hair until his chapped lips brush your temple. “Just don’t let it happen again, alright?”

[itoshiexx]

mi vida

synopsis: sae never thought someone could become his life, but that changed when you came.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 749 | warnings: established relationship, fluff

notes: welcome back to "things i wrote on a whim when my boss wasn't at the office"!! apparently i write a lot better in english without much planning, so yeah. this idea came to me based on a personal experience, since i call my boyfriend "minha vida" (which is the same for "mi vida"/"my life" in portuguese) and i never really thought i could consider someone to be my life before him.

i really really hope you like it, and i wanna thank you all so much for all the love you've given to Unworthy (but chosen), every note and follower made me super happy! <3

and also, i'm so sorry if my description of the spanish culture is not accurate and for any english mistakes!

during his time in spain, sae learned a lot of things. mainly, how to improve his soccer career even more, striving to become the best in the world after already being the best in his country. 

he was a genius, of course, so it wasn’t really hard to learn the language or get acquainted with the city of madrid, which was a lot warmer than japan — in many ways. however, it was really fucking hard to get used to the customs of the spanish people and its culture, considering it was so different from the japanese. they were extremely welcome, and sae was anything but. if anything, he was even more closed than typical japanese people. 

in spain, people were always greeting each other with a kiss on each cheek, showing off bright smiles and making conversation with strangers. friends talked loudly among each other, giving hugs and always touching somehow. the concept of personal space? totally nonexistent. in short, it was weird. 

but nothing was weirder than couples. 

the concept of love was already foreign to sae. he didn’t understand how a feeling could envelop one so much and make it forget about the rest of the world. he didn’t know how such an abstract thing, with no sense of logic whatsoever, could be so overwhelming to the point of taking one’s life completely, until all you could see, think and feel was your significant other.

most of all, he couldn’t fathom how someone could become your life. 

“te amo, mi vida,” was what he used to hear an old couple say to each other. they were the owners of sae’s favorite restaurant, a small little place in the suburbs of Madrid, and always treated him with a kindness he didn’t deemed himself worthy of. 

at first, he wasn’t able to comprehend what the sentence meant. he could barely write it on google translate to try to get its meaning, and he didn’t really care enough. though, as the time went by and sae became more fond of the couple, he eventually gathered the courage to ask the woman about it. and he was very surprised to hear the answer. 

“it means ‘i love you, my life’,” she said, smiling from ear to ear and handing a glass of salted kombucha tea to sae. it was one of the reasons he adored the place so much — it was the only restaurant he found that served his favorite drink. 

the older itoshi could only stare, dumbfounded, and mumble, “…why?”

the woman laughed at the boy’s naiveté. “why, you ask? because that’s what he is to me.” 

sae only stared in silence, too stunned to speak.

“i… i don’t understand,” he confessed. it sounded silly, and kind of pathetic, but at that moment he didn’t really care. the woman gave another smile, this time an understanding countenance, and placed her wrinkly hand on his shoulder. 

“you will understand one day, boy. and when your person comes, make sure to bring them here, right? i’d like to meet them!” 

the soccer player wanted to tell her that it would never happen. that the itoshi sae had no time for foolish things like love, and he most certainly would never love someone so much to the point of seeing them as his life. his life was soccer, and his goal was to become the best in the world. 

there was nothing else. 

oh, how he bit his tongue. 

it was at the age of twenty two when he entered the restaurant once again, and this time, not alone. you were walking by his side, with your hand intertwined in his, chatting excitedly while he just listened. a small smile was on his face, and his features were impossibly soft, in a way they only got around you. 

you, who were light in the darkness, who were comfort after a long day of practice, who was the one he loved most. you, who was the definition of home in every sense of the word. the only one that could make his heart swell so much it made it hard to breathe. 

he pulled your chair for you to sit like a true gentleman, and sat right next to you, always in need to touch you somehow. a hand was placed on your thigh while the other one opened the menu. and he turned to you, voice gentle like you could break:

“so, what would you like, mi vida?”

you, who was his life.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[noroi1000]

can you please do a piece where Gojo from the past ...maybe the second year gojo travels to the future and like...he see's you and you're like married. He used to have a crush on you in high school and now your married hes like :/. until he finds out he is your husband...??? pllss??

In a few years

cover by @blvckryx

Paring: Gojo (17 and 28yo) x reader

words: 2,5k

warning: a little perverted Gojo

"W-What's going on?!"

The white-haired boy looked around. He woke up in a completely different place from where he fell asleep. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know how he got there.

The sun was setting. He was lying on the grass by the river.

Next to the sidewalk.

If it was supposed to be a stupid joke, it wasn't funny.

Was he anywhere near school at all?

He sat on the grass and looked at his hands. He was looking at him. Judging if he's okay. After all, he was lying on the grass, and he didn't even know how he got there.

Maybe he got drunk and didn't remember?

After all, when he tasted alcohol once, he didn't want to put it in his mouth. It's not tasty. Besides, he didn't have a hangover, so if he got drunk, he'd remember it. And he just sat there, knowing what he'd been doing before, remembering that he'd walked into the warehouse with the cursed weapon and found the pocket watch.

He looked there once, and clicked a button.

The watch had previously measured 11 seconds. And then he turned off the stopwatch and tossed the item, thinking it was just junk on the shelf. Maybe someone left it there and forgot to take it? After all, this watch wasn't cursed at all. No one has placed a curse on it that can make it useful.

It was just an ordinary watch.

He pulled his phone out of his uniform pocket, looking at the date and time.

The date on his phone was May 12, 2007. But as he stared at the small screen for a while, he noticed that the time had not changed at all for several minutes.. He had no range at all. He closed the phone and then opened it again. The hour remained the same.

And he also couldn't make any calls because he had no reception at all. Literally as if the operator of the network he had on the phone was gone.

He stood up, brushing the grass and dirt off his clothes, and held out his long hand with the phone in the air. Hoping to catch at least one line.

Nothing of that. There was no range.

Snorting softly, he put the phone back in his pocket, but then checked the date again.

Just then, he heard laughter in his direction.

"This is not the time of such phones, Grandpa!" one teenager laughed.

He was probably even younger than Him.

And he was 17!

A little kid won't laugh at him!

"Look at your shit! You don't know how much that phone cost me!" He shouted.

After all, his phone was expensive. It was one of the best.

Wait... It's not the time of such phones? What does it mean?

Suddenly he saw them walking on, and pulling other phones out of their pockets. Flat, no buttons.

"What's going on...?" He muttered watching one of them talking on the device and the other playing as if it were a console.

Stowing away his phone, he stepped onto the sidewalk, looking around.

He walked a kilometer along the river until he came to a road on which there were quite a lot of cars.

He saw the inscription on the signs: Tokyo. So he was still in town. Only in the suburbs?

It was definitely not the main Tokyo. It was very big.

And even though the buildings here were big and tall, it wasn't in the middle of the nation's capital.

A lot of things here were different from what he had seen before... Even though he traveled around Japan a lot on missions or during vacations.

It was different.

But one thing has not changed. Even the suburbs of Tokyo are big cities.

That's why he went ahead.

He stopped at a window with a small screen. And then he widened his eyes and wondered why on the screen is May 12, 2018...

It was strange and impossible... Then why...?

He started walking forward, looking around.

He wasn't paying attention, so he hit one person with his shoulder.

He turned sideways and apologized quickly. Before he went on.

You looked at the boy who walked away. At least he apologized for hitting you with his shoulder. However, he seemed familiar to you...

All you saw was white hair and the color of the clothes you knew.

However, there are many people who wear this color of clothes. And also people with white hair.

For example, your friend.

Even though this boy looked a bit alike, you couldn't see his face. And it can't be him.

You went further. Wanting to spend nice moments with your friends.

But when Gojo walked a few meters further, he suddenly stopped. Eyes wide, he turned to look at the woman he bumped into.

"This... (y/n)?" He grunted looking at the back of your head.

He would always know your eyes. Your face. You were the girl he couldn't stop thinking about.

When he saw you enter a nearby store, he followed you.

And, sitting at a table in a small restaurant, he held the menu in front of his face so that you wouldn't recognize him.

He started listening to your conversation.

You talked about what to eat.

And before you were done talking about it, he took a good look at the women you were there with.

"Wait... Shoko?" He muttered looking at the long-haired woman with a mole. Next to her was a woman with a scar he recognized from her eyes and hair, and also a white-haired one. "Utahime and Mei Mei?"

Suddenly a young waitress approached him, asking if he wanted to order something.

He looked at her, and she at him. And in that moment her eyes almost sparkled when she saw his face.

Whenever she spoke to Him, he tried to blow her off. He was busy now. He didn't have time to listen and watch some waitress fall in love with him at first sight.

He could barely believe he was transported into the future.

And now he's supposed to believe there's a wedding ring on your finger?

He timed it with watch: 11 seconds. . That's why he moved 11 years into the future.

And after 11 hours spent in another year, he'll be back.

And so far it's been four hours... Well, Most probably.

He wandered around the city until finally he found you.

And now he was staring at the shiny ring on your finger.

He liked you since he can remember.

And when he now saw the calendar with the year number 2018, he couldn't believe it.

Could he ever get married?

You've always been nice to him. you were friends.

You were close. However, you were not his girlfriend.

Well, he liked you. For everything you are. But you never showed him the same things he showed you.

Even if he sometimes tried to win your favor. It wasn't the same.

So you must have married someone you liked.

Sure, he was happy for you. But he was terribly jealous. Who could you marry?!

If it was Nanami, he's really going to go up to him and beat him up. If it was Geto, he'll be depressed that you preferred his best friend over him.

It was a sad feeling for him as well as an angry feeling. This view of you with this ring. It was painful for him.

He probably would never have dared ask you to marry him... It had to be someone else...

Because you're the only one who ever makes him blush and ashamed.

Your husband is someone else... For sure...

And he was pissed about someone taking you away from him in the future...

He had to find out who and then prevent you from falling in love with someone! When he goes back to the year he's supposed to be, he'll prevent you from meeting the guy you fell in love with!

As you left the restaurant, he followed you.

He just sat there to hear what you were saying. And so that they wouldn't throw him out, he ordered something to eat.

He ate only the cherry pie he bought and drank a cup of latte coffee.

He just watched the ring sparkle on your finger.

And when you left the restaurant in the evening, he was looking at you. Keeping an eye on your safety and also to find out more.

When I got home, he was hiding outside. He was looking out the window. Another few hours passed. He has maybe 3 or 4 hours left?

Even though he didn't know it, he had to hurry.

The moment you left the bedroom, he quickly jumped through the window into your house.

You live in the suburbs. But your bedroom is upstairs. You have a two-story house with a garden. Beautiful, rich. You must have married someone rich...

You have something you dreamed of.

When he saw the room from the inside, he saw how cozy it was.

There were no pictures of you with your husband.

All he saw on the dresser was an old picture of you with him and Geto. From school.

And then just you and him.

By the time you came back, he had already looked around.

Big high bed, furniture. Lots of luxuries. Even though it was a simple and cozy house. It was almost luxurious.

As he opened the drawer, one thing made his eyes widen. Pregnancy test pack.

He looked into the box until you were in the room.

He picked up a pink stick with a red thing on it.

Two Lines.

He took a moment to remember what one line meant and what two meant.

Is it possible you were pregnant?

Now he must have known who did this to you.

Your phone on the bed started ringing.

But when he heard footsteps, he started to panic.

The first thing he thought of was entering the wardrobe that stood against the wall.

He jumped in so fast that the large piece of furniture nearly toppled over.

He didn't have time to check your phone.

When you entered the bedroom, you answered the phone with a smile and started talking to someone.

And by the words "honey" and "sweetheart", he guessed you were talking to your husband.

He looked at you through the gap between the wardrobe doors.

Your body looks more mature.

Your thighs and hips are wider, and so are your breasts. Your face.

He only thought that you were beautiful and sexy.

If you are pregnant and you look like this, when you have a bigger belly, you will look even more beautiful.

He covered his eyes as he felt like punching himself in the face. He never thought a pregnant woman could be sexy... What happened to him now?

After all, he would never have a wife. He would never have a child. He already knew it. Because either someone won't accept him or he won't accept someone.

Besides, he wasn't sure he'd ever settle down.

And your smile as you spoke into the device by your ear made him want to smile.

You were happy...

So maybe he won't take it from you...

If you didn't want him, maybe he'll let it go?

Even though he loves you. There's no way he could ever be your husband. And the father of your child...

That would mean you love him. And do you love him?

When you put the phone down, he just realized that your husband will be home soon.

His chance to find out who he is.

You didn't put your phone on the bed, you took it with you.

And then he heard a knock on the door. And then laughs.

He didn't know why, he knew the sound of that male laugh... He knew it from somewhere.

He heard footsteps into the bedroom again and stepped back a bit so that no one would see his eyes as he stood there.

"Aw... Stop! It tickles!" you exclaimed laughing.

He heard no answer.

You looked at your husband as he ran his teeth over the skin of your neck. After a sensitive point.

"Ah, it really tickles!" you said pulling his hair.

Young Gojo looked away with a small blush. After all, he didn't want to watch you fuck your husband.

Or would it be interesting?

He couldn't do that to you. Because if he looked at you any other time, he'd see your body, and he'd remember some naked guy fucking you...

Then he heard some whispers and other laughs. He still didn't want to take away your privacy. With a slight blush, he stood there, staring at the wardrobe wall.

"Do you remember the first time I did that to you?" your husband asked, whispering in your ear.

"How could I not remember it? I had a mark on my neck for two weeks! It was... During your 18th birthday... It was 10 years ago, as long as we've been together..." you said softly.

Young Gojo looked out of curiosity through the gap between the wardrobe doors. You've been together 10 years? He must have known who your husband is!

"You know, I saw someone like you today when you were younger."

Blue eyes widened as he saw your husband's silhouette.

Tall, white hair. Black blindfold on the face .

His breath hitched in his lungs.

And you said something that made him believe that he was your husband...

"We've been together for 10 years, Toru." you said reaching for his face.

Taking off his blindfold.

Seeing the same blue eyes as his, he smiled slightly.

When he turns 18, you will be his girlfriend...

On his 18th birthday... Soon.

And you will be together for so long...

He will be your husband. You will be his wife...

You will be happy together.

Most likely you will have a baby!

Even if he thought you would never love him. You loved him.

You hugged him and he pulled down the sleeve of your shirt.

Putting his mouth and teeth on your shoulder.

Before he sank his teeth into your skin, he looked at the wardrobe.

Feeling something strange. Seeing something like this.

"You said you saw someone like me when I was young, right?" he asked, blowing into your ear.

He wondered what was going on here.

That's him.

He remembers that when he was 17, he checked a gold watch which is cursed.

Something that takes you to the future.

With his eyes fixed on the crack between the wardrobe doors, he licked your neck.

His hands gripped your sides. You gave a cute groan.

Young Satoru felt warmth on his cheeks as he saw the older one kissing, hugging and touching you.

He gave him a smile and winked one eye. And bit into your arm. Hugging you closer.

"I love you." You said holding his neck. Hugging him.

Now he knew you loved him...

A ring will appear on his finger. And you will be happy with him.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

I need to know that she's going to art school in philly. A reunion, maybe Eddie helping her move. Her meeting Wayne pls. love your writing!!

The acceptance letter came and two weeks later, you were on a flight.

It had been easy to pack up another suitcase, clothes and belongings flung into the bag, shoes still stained with mud from camp, Eddie’s sweater folded on top, his mixtape in your walkman, never taken out. You packed Polaroids in the front covers of books, printed emails folded neatly between the pages, the letter from the university tucked beside it.

You’d told your parents, got yelled at and then watched them cry. It was simultaneously the hardest and easiest thing you’d ever done. You’d spent the rest of summer at home, thinking you’d craved the camp grounds, the noise, the forest. But each email that pinged into your inbox brought the same excitement and eventually, you realised that it was Eddie you missed the most.

You called him the day the letter arrived. Hands shaking on the plastic receiver, the paper clutched to your chest and you stuttered and stammered your way through an introduction when his uncle

Wayne picked up but god, the feeling that came over you when the man yelled for his nephew and said, ‘it’s your girl, son,’ was completely and utterly indescribable.

You bought your tickets the next day. You didn’t have an apartment lined up, not yet. But your parents took you to the airport and they both hugged you, told you to stay safe and call them when you landed, so things didn’t seem as scary as they once did.

Eddie told you he’d meet you in arrivals and you spent the flight wondering if he’d changed, I’d he’d looked different, if he’d feel different when you hugged him. ‘Cause it had been almost six weeks since you last saw him and almost every bit of communication you’d had with him since had been in black and white, words on a computer screen.

Philadelphia looked like the biggest city you’d ever seen from the sky, and god, maybe it’s cause it was. You’d barely strayed from Michigan before, a summer spent in a forest in Indiana the most adventurous it had gotten. The plane seemed to skim the tops of skyscrapers as it came into land, the sky blue and the ground grey concrete and littered with cars that looked like multi-colored ants.

Big bridges, long stretches of water, roads that criss-crossed over each other and somewhere, hopefully, amongst the brownstones and suburbs, would be your future apartment. You dreamt about paint colours, thrift store coffee tables, how you’d get a couch in the front door, a bed you didn’t have to make every morning.

You thought of Eddie in it, more often than not, maybe, eventually. Eddie in your kitchen, a tiny space, more than likely, Eddie at the stove, sleepy eyed and shirtless with messy hair and coffee for you and him. You thought about the boy in your bed, a proper bed that fit both of you, where you could do more than just kiss and let hands wander.

Your stomach flipped at that, heart cartwheeling in your chest. But maybe that’s just because the plane had hit the runway with a bump and a jerk and oh my god? You were in Philadelphia.

Home.

Eddie was waiting where he said he would, his last email tucked under your arm with the rest of your documents, your boarding pass, your paperwork for the rest of your luggage that wouldn’t be arriving for another few days.

‘I’ll get you in arrivals,’ he’d typed. ‘I’ll be beside the coffee shop there, there’s a huge ass plant, look for that.’

Your heart thumped to the same rhythm of the roll of your suitcase, the wheels clickclickclicking over the tiles and everyone was simultaneously moving to slow and too fast at the same time. You wondered if Eddie smelled the same, if he used the same cologne, if he’d still smell like summer and rain and smoke now that he wasn’t at camp.

Would he look at you the same way? Would he still like you? Would he still want you? Was this a mistake?

You paused, chest heaving and eyes blinking back tears that were brought on with from the familiar feeling of panic but then you looked across the lounge and saw a face in the crowd, right next to a huge fern, right where he said he’d be.

Eddie looked the same, black jeans ripped at the knees, a T-shirt with a band logo on the front that you’d never heard of, faded and sun bleached. He looked a little tan still, like he’d spent just as much time outside in the city that summer as he had at camp. His hair was the same, except he’d cut his bangs, a tiny bit squint, just like he’d told you in an email. You knew there was a new tattoo on his right forearm, a line of trees in black ink, the keast metal thing on his body, he’d said. But it reminded him of camp and summer and a second home.

You couldn’t wait to see it, you’d told him.

You were walking over before you realised, your feet carrying you across the large room with less panic than you previously had. ‘Cause looking at Eddie was like waking up on a summer morning, hazy blue skies outside your bedroom window, cotton sheets, bed warm skin, the smell of sunscreen, rainstorms from the night before, coffee through pine tree forests.

It was familiar, comforting, like home.

He saw you then, grinned like you remembered, wide and all consuming, a bright stretch of a smile across his face, dimples deepening at the sight of you. You picked up your pace when he stepped forward, feet almost tripping over themselves and you flung yourself at him, suitcase rolling away abandoned.

Eddie caught you, groaning into your neck as his arms wound themselves around your waist and he sounded relieved. He smelled the same. Like smoke and rain and summer and Eddie and you clung to him, arms a vice around his neck, squealing when he lifted you from the floor.

“Fuck,” he murmured into your skin, nose pressed to your pulse point. His voice was a rough rasp, thick with emotion. “I fuckin’ missed you.”

You nodded, agreeing, pulling back to press your nose against his, pressing a your lips to his in what was more a shared smile than a kiss - but it felt just as good, just as nice.

[lost-girl-2021]

Maybe Tonowari and Ronal adopting Spider modern/human au hc?

Okay, I wrote a little bit and then I also but some headcanons and stuff at the bottom :) lemme know if you want to hear more.

Spider wasn’t a pessimist, he was a realist. He didn’t think of the worst, he just knew that after so long, nothing good would be coming his way. Ten different foster homes in half as many years. He was fourteen and alone.

Norm, his social worker and only actual friend, was overworked and underpaid. He had a lot to deal with and Spider was just a box to check off of his To Do List. He was a good guy and he always made sure Spider was somewhere safe, but as the boy had gotten older, he’d also lost hope alongside Spider. Neither of them thought he’d get adopted. He had two years until he’d be old enough to emancipate himself and Norm knew he was just biding him time.

So, it was weird that he seemed excited about his next placement. Spider had been stuck in a group home for two weeks after his last foster family— the Sully’s —had to suddenly move, leaving the teen behind. They’d been plenty apologetic and he hadn’t even been with them for a full year, so it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. He shouldn’t have been so stupid as to think they’d want to take him with.

Maybe the enthusiasm was Norm trying to cheer his charge up after a shitty month. Maybe he’d finally cracked and was slowly turning into the Joker or Green Goblin or something. He wouldn’t mind a Hulked-out version of his social worker. It’d probably be funny to watch.

They suburb they pulled into was nice. They’d driven further south, towards the state’s coast. It was only three hours away, but it felt like a entirely different world. Ignoring the tourist-traps littering main street and the absurd amount of bikes, it looked peaceful and bright. Norm explained that his newest foster parents ran a fishery and a charter company. Spider didn’t think it was a good fit. He didn’t even know how to swim.

When they stopped in front of the large house in the center of the block, a pair of tall adults were already waiting, sat on the porch in a matching set of white rocking chairs. It was like something out of a TV show, too perfect. The overturned bike on the front lawn helped bring him back to reality. His skateboard was in the trunk of the car, along with his suitcase and a duffel bag of clothes. Lo’ak had insisted that he keep half of the decor from their shared room, even though a lot of it had already been there when he’d arrived.

“How many kids did you say they had?” He asked as Norm put the car in park.

“Two. Aounung and Tsireya. I think he’s sixteen and she’s . . . fifteen? Maybe your age, I can’t remember.”

Neteyam had been sixteen. He wasn’t much of a big brother when it came to Spider, but it wasn’t like he was Spider’s actual younger brother. The thought made his throat feel tight. He opened the car door, swallowing down saliva. First impressions were important and he was about to make a lot of them. New house, new school, same old Spider.

Spider wears shoes a size too big, a habit from childhood. He used to grow too fast as a kid and even though he'd stopped at 5"7, he bought clothes and shoes big just in case.

When he first gets settled, he's kind of wary of the other kids in the house. (No Baby in this AU, because babies are a handful and so are Spiders). I think Tsireya would definitely take him under her wing and try to help him get comfortable and stuff. Set up his room, make sure he's okay with the food and knows where everything is. Despite being a year younger, she's definitely a Big Sister when it come to him.

Aounung kind of ignores him at first, busy with school and learning about his parent's business, intending to take over at some point. But, I think if Spider was getting bullied or something, he'd definitely go into Big Brother mode and that'd kind of spark an interest/empathy.

With the Parents, I think Tonowari would probably be busy working a lot of the time, but he'd make an effort to be there for dinner every night and make sure to check in with each kid before bed. Definitely a gentle giant. I can see Spider being intimidated at first, with the tattoos and Tonowari's sheer size, not to mention he's probably ripped after spending most of his life fishing and swimming. I think the turning point for Spider would be Tonowari driving him to get new shoes or for a doctor's appointment or something one weekend and putting on, like, ABBA or Dolly Parton or something in the car and singing along. He doesn't even need to actually like that type of music, but it's disarming and gets a laugh from Spider. (Also, Tonowari trying to squeeze into a waiting room chair like he isn't 6"7 and shredded).

With Ronal, I can see Spider watching her do one of the other kid's hair and her offering to do his. (In Modern AU's, I think Spider would have long, curly hair like Olan Prenatt from Mid-90s (the guy who played Fuck-Shit). Except, he has no clue how to keep his hair from being a frizzy mess, so he just pulls it back most of the time. And he hesitates, remembering a foster mother once cutting his hair off while he was sleeping (which might have led to him growing it out in the first place) and then deciding to trust her to take care of it, of him.

Spider tries to run away a few months after arriving. He failed a test and got into a fight after school and he's sure he's about to be sent away. So, he decided to leave first. Maybe, it would be easier that way. Hurt less. (It doesn't.)

Aounung ends up finding him crying on the beach at like midnight and flat-out carries him home, refusing to let him down. Because, they were scared, dammit.

This is all I have so far for a modern AU, but lmk if you want to hear more! Also, guess who just started a Medical Assistant program online? ME. If anyone is in the medical field and has any tips, I'd greatly appreciate it!

[narcjsistx]

◡̈⋆ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(*´∇`)ﾉ I hope your day is going well :) and if it isn't troubling you, can you do izana with a gf who's a pianist?? Imagine having duets with him playing his guitar 👀

HI! thanks for the request, hope you have a good day ❤️‍🩹 I absolutely love this idea! also, I hope you don't mind if I made an os instead of hcs

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

— Duet

"Are you sure you can afford it? It's really a lot of money" says Kakucho putting the last box on the floor. You nod in satisfaction, knowing that this piano was the result of a year and a half of wages "Absolutely yes. Besides, I don't think I can get a refund even if I wanted to" you say placing a hand on the piano, shiny and black. Kakucho sighs and bids you farewell, heading to his room

You had the home gym moved to another place just to have free room to put the piano. It had taken some time since your boyfriend and Kakucho didn't see eye to eye, but over time they had both changed their minds. So, once you cleared the room and painted it a lavender shade, you were just waiting to buy the piano. The day was today and the piano was already assembled in the center of the room

Izana had not been able to help Kakucho in moving the boxes from the instrument shop to your house, he was unfortunately busy with an issue with the Haitani brothers. But he would be home soon anyway, so you didn't worry

Since you and Izana came of age, so about a year ago, you had taken custody of Kakucho and together you had moved to a house in the suburbs. The house, although not large, was laid out well enough to have several rooms to use for recreation beyond the normal ones. One of them was the gym, one was Izana's study, and another had become the room with the piano

You and Izana had known each other practically forever. You had arrived at the orphanage a year before him, after your parents had disappeared for unknown reasons. You had met him and with the arrival of Kakucho your group had strengthened. At the age of 10, as a joke, you promised to get together a few years later, but instead it really happened: since you were 13 you were a couple. Living in a house together wasn't strange to you since the orphanage was ultimately a home

"Let's see what you can do, little boy" you say approaching the piano, sitting on the stool. Check if it's in tune and it is, then improvise some tunes. Your passion for the piano had been born many years before, when the director of the orphanage had joined a musical project. You had tried the piano and, seeing how good you were, he had you take private lessons until your last day in the orphanage

You continue with your slow melody for a few more minutes, until you suddenly turn around and see Izana sitting in the armchair behind you "You scared me!" you say out of tune, but Izana gives you an amused smile "The melody was beautiful. Wasn't it the same one that the director said he loved?" he says getting up from the chair, standing behind you "Not really, that's another one. Wait" you say placing your fingers back on the keys, playing the song Izana intends. It was one of Beethoven, of which you actually didn't remember everything perfectly, but the result was always something pleasant

You play your melody calmly, occasionally adding parts that are not from the song but invented by you. The sound is nice, and Izana seems to agree. He places a hand on your shoulder, motioning for you to continue. You nod a little confused, seeing him leave the room

He comes back a few seconds later, holding his guitar close to him. Tune it with little time and try to join your melody, and few minutes pass before he completely enters into the melody, also inventing some random notes which however do not change the beauty of the song. It's not uncommon for you to do these things, it happened often with the little piano you had in your room until a few days ago. It was something pleasant for you to play with him, you loved that boy and the way he, unexpectedly, could play the guitar so expertly and calmly. You smile at him, looking up from the piano as you don't stop playing. Only you know how much you love this boy, how much you have faced being both without parents. If you were to lose him, it would be the end for you, not even Kakucho would be able to save you, even though he is the second most important person for you

“Can you go to E minor? I want to try something" you tell your boyfriend, not sure if what you want to do is embarrassing or not. But come on, he even saw you naked... he could be embarrassed about something else, not this. Izana nods, and the key of the song takes on another life, slightly higher. You sigh and look down, focused on the notes "You may be nobody, but in reality you are everything to me" you sing in a low voice, taking the first verse of a song that you often heard on the radio of the orphanage, of which you don't know the name but all the words

"If the world were to collapse I would have no problem if I were by your side, your breathing is the reason why I carry on" you sing, raising your voice a little, trying to also maintain concentration on the notes of the piano "Your thoughts are the reason I believe in children's imagination. The color of your soul is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen" you say, feeling my cheeks red with embarrassment. You don't dare look up but it seems like Izana is focused on the guitar

"... You may be nobody, but in reality you are everything to me" sings Izana, taking up the verse from the first verse. You look up smiling, surprised that he has started singing too “I believe in angels because I am certain that you exist” you sing, and Izana joins in on the last line. The chorus is completely played, without words. You look at each other and understand that in the end the song isn't wrong: you know about the existence of angels because Izana Kurokawa exists. Take the words back and spend the rest of the song looking at each other, singing

The song ends with a small guitar solo. You wait for him to finish playing to give him a round of applause, but you see him walking towards you: he delicately lifts your chin and places a small kiss on your lips "When you play you are something unique" he whispers on your lips, making you shiver "I can say the same about you,” you say, chuckling. He smiles at you and puts the guitar on the floor, placing it against the wall "Tell Kakucho to get ready. We'll go out in an hour" he says leaving the room, but you don't remember why they have to go out. You get up and follow him, while he has already arrived in his room "Where are you going?" you ask

"Don't you remember? Tonight at 8pm there's the meeting with Toman" he says with his back turned as he takes his Tenjiku uniform from the wardrobe. You had completely forgotten about this fight "I remembered it was another day. I'm going to warn Kakucho" you say nodding to your boyfriend, who nods his thanks to you

It's really true, if something ever happened to Izana you would never be the same. But he is strong, he is the strongest in Japan. You can't worry knowing that no one can beat him

[kahvilahuhut]

just a normal workplace conversation

Summary: What happens when you have two people, who have known each other since university, work on the same project leading different teams? Definitely completely normal conversations that definitely stay on the the same topic all the time (sarcasm). What else can you talk about on your way from one room to another.

Tws: mention of a wound

---

"Hey, Toby. Do you have a moment? Can I get your thoughts on something?"

Tobias turned around and saw Aleena leaning on the door frame, hologram gloves on. He waved his hand. "Sure! If we also get more coffee on our way to your little hologram room," he glanced at his three empty cups standing in the same corner of his desk, one clearly leaving a stain on his to-do list.

"Still a coffee freak, I see. Have you ever tried matcha?"

"Green tea is for evenings when you gotta calm down but don't want to sleep yet. Speaking of, hang on, need to write this down or I'll forget," he opened his whiteboard marker and wrote 'buy more genmaitcha' on his notes section of the board.

"I disagree with your tea opinions but sure, do whatever you want."

"Funny how you're talking about tea when all our office had back then was english breakfast and some flavored green tea."

"It had earl grey too."

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway," he closed his whiteboard marker and placed it in his lab coat's pocket, "what do you need my thoughts for? Though, if it's something anatomy related, I probably barely have any thoughts."

Aleena smirked and motioned him to follow. "Weren't you the guy with the heaviest physiology book in dorm?"

"Bold of you to assume I ever opened it," he chuckled. "I think I mostly used it as a press for things. Like if I accidentally fucked up my notebook's front page and couldn't straighten it out with bare hands or a ruler. Never been into collecting leaves, though. I even managed to skip the whole school year that had it."

"City kid."

"Hey, I was raised in suburbs, we had trees and plants there! A pair of pigeons used to make a nest in front of my house. I just, you know," he shook his hands, "don't want to touch anything dirty. One of the reasons I suck at gardening, too."

"Honestly, that explains while you prefer working in a clean lab environment."

"Hah, nothing better than the smell of dimethyl sulfoxide," he paused with a wide smile, "Get it? Because it doesn't have a scent. At least when it's pure."

"Missed your humor, lab boy. And your sweaters. Is that a bee?"

"Yes! I think the first time I knitted one like this was almost seventeen years ago. I've made at least four of these. First one got ruined when I accidentally knocked a wine bottle while leaning to- Well, anyway! Glad you noticed. I think Samuel hates it. Saw him today when I came to the office in the morning and he just stared at me and my sweater."

"He hates everything related to you, it seems, if I can be honest?" She looked around to make sure that no one was close by, "I heard he wanted to pick someone else as the lead chemist, and the project board overruled him."

"Oh, god, you should have seen his face when I mentioned in the interview that I've only been doing part-time roles for last decade due to health problems. I mean, he's a Mackie guy, though, so no surprise there."

"They seem to have not liking you as a personality trait. Which is funny, considering how your wife works there."

Tobias laughed. "I think Klara's the only reason why their agents haven't shot me in some dark alley yet," he paused, "Can you blame them though? Imagine a guy who tried to whistleblow one of your projects now appears on your new project rekated to the previously mentioned project."

"Christ, Toby, you know how to have fun, don't you," Aleena laughed and opened the door to hologram room. "Speaking of projects, that's one of the things I need your help with. I found something while looking through the old project's files. Since you were there, I thought you could explain it."

He walked in after her, slightly wincing at the bright lamp shining in the middle of dark room. "Oooooh. I'm already having a bad feeling about this." Tobias wasn't sure himself whether he said that about the thing Aleena was asking him about or that he forgot to refill his migraine meds in the bag.

"You said the same thing about taking Frank as one of the ad faces."

"Was I wrong?"

"You tell me - is he good in bed?"

"He sucks. Interpret that however you want."

"Alright then, keep your dirty secrets." She walked to the round, grey area on the floor and pressed a button on the screen next to it. A hologram appeared, showing a scanned part of a hand, stab wound clearly visible. Aleena switched on her gloves and waved her hands to zoom in on the inside parts of the wound. "This was the problem, wasn't it? The substance clogging literally everything around the wound."

Tobias nodded. "Uh-huh. And then they decided to use it as something to cause lethal damage with. And failed."

"Yeah, well. I was thinking, you know," she swiped her hand to the right and an animation appeared, "what if we managed to somehow make it only block the wound, like some kind of magic band-aid?"

"When they closed the project they were indeed theorizing that, if I remember right."

"So it might just work?"

"Hell yeah it might work."

[rowdyhughesy]

Beside you - Jamie Drysdale

“ you feel like home, and everywhere I’ve never been. All at once “

- butterflies rising

Word count: 1K

She’d fallen in love with Jamie Drysdale the summer of her junior year of high school. He was pale skin, freckles dusted on the apples of his cheeks, dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

It was a blur of hours spent in his backyard. Talking about what they hoped senior year would bring. Laugher and big smiles as the two rode their bikes down the streets of Torontos suburbs.

“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” Jamie’s voice had sliced through the comfortable silence like a knife. The darkness consuming the four walls of his bedroom as they lay under the blankets on his bed. Legs tangled together and one of her hands running through the strands of hair on his head. Jamie laying on top of her, the side of his face pressed against her chest listening to the rhythmic beating of her heart.

“I think I’d like to be a teacher. Kindergarten. What about you? I know you wanna be a hockey player but what if?” Jamie hums in thought.

“If I can’t play hockey I’d be a coach. Teach little kids how to play, watch them grow to love the game like I do.” The girl smiles at that, an image playing in her head of Jamie teaching young boys and girls how to skate. How to shoot the puck on net and grow their confidence step by step.

What nobody tells you when you fall in love at the age of 16 is that with love, with love comes your first heartbreak.

When we both fall asleep, underneath the same sky

To the beat of our hearts at the same time

So close but so far away

Can you hear me?

Tossing and turning on her bed her mind goes back to the freckled boy. She wished he could hear her thoughts wherever he is right now.

The very same freckled boy was laying in his bed, a newly familiar bedroom in Pennsylvania. Thinking of the girl back home in Toronto and how he left his heart back there with her.

“I wish you could hear me right now Y/N.”

My heart wants to come home

I wish I was, I wish I was

Beside you

She watches the NHL draft when she knows it’s his year. Tears pricking at her eyes when his name gets called. Fingers itching to send a text. Tell him how proud she’s feeling in this moment but she doesn’t. A small voice in her head telling her he’s forgotten all about her. That the two kids that fell in love is just a distant memory now.

Heart aching, longing to be back to that summer. To be with the person who still two years later holds every tiny piece of her heart in his hands.

A heart and soul that wants to come home. Home being Jamie’s arms and the way he smiled everytime they locked eyes. The comfort of his presence when he walked into a room. Pulling people in without even trying, like a siren song to sailors in the ocean. Captivating.

There is no home like the one next to Jamie and god if she doesn’t want to go back home when she sees him on the tv. Even more beautiful now than when she last saw him:

Another day, and I'm somewhere new

I made a promise that I'll come home soon

Bring me back, bring me back to you

They say if you love something you let it go, if it’s meant to be it will find it’s way back to you.

It’s something she’s been telling herself since she said goodbye to Jamie. That they’ll find their way back somehow.

It’s been almost three years and they’re both still wandering around, having missed the right turns to find their ways back. She moved out of Toronto the summer she graduated from high school, leaving no way for Jamie to find her when he came back.

He’s been aimlessly searching for the girl since.

Seeing her face in every person he crosses on the street. His promise of that he’d come back looming over his head like a rain cloud.

There are pieces of us both

Under every city light

And the shining as we fade into the night

Their first kiss had happened during one of their walks late at night. Jamie’s hand had brushed against hers, a blush rising on both of their cheeks at the small sparks that ran from the tip of their fingers to their chests.

Jamie deciding that he wanted to be brave had grasped her cold hand. Thumb rubbing the girls knuckles as he stopped walking.

Standing still under the glow of a street lamp Jamie looked down at her. The boys blue eyes looking darker than usual from the darkened sky and overhead light.

Taking a deep breath he utters the words he’s been wanting to say since he first met her a month ago. “Can I kiss you?”

Standing on her toes she slots her lips against Jamies. Everything around them fading away as they stand there for ages. Kissing, hands sprawled across their cheeks and teeth knocking together from smiling so hard.

She knew then she was going to fall in love with Jamie and he knew the same. That this first kiss sealed the deal of their love.

Some loves happen so you know what love is supposed to feel like, they’re not meant to last but that doesn’t make it hurt any less when it ends. When it ends it still hurts just as much as.

It hurts because you believed it was meant to last. That this other person is the one made specifically for you and when they leave this gaping hole inside you grows and grows where they’re supposed to be.

So she lays there in her bedroom, mind and body restless like it has been since Jamie left. Yearning for him to bring back the pieces of her she left with him and that he’ll finally be back beside her once again.

I miss you Jamie whispered into the air before her eyelids grows too heavy and she falls into a heavy sleep, dreaming of pale skin and blue eyes.

[willowsnook]

Can we get something for Josh Allen? Maybe going out after a win :)

Josh Allen x Reader (Post game celebration)

Heading to Founding Fathers with Stefon and Kyle. See you there?

You took a break from curling your hair to look at your phone to see a text from your boyfriend Josh. After replying that you would be there in 15 minutes you called out to your roommate Jaelen.

"15 minutes and we need to be walking out the door," you yelled. You heard a muffled reply and continued getting ready. It was late but after freezing your ass off at your boyfriend's game you wouldn't mind an alcohol blanket on his tab. You kept on the same outfit you wore to the game minus the jacket: high-waisted black leather pants with a cropped vintage Bills tshirt. Jaelen was waiting for you in the living room when you came out and you noticed the added makeup for tonight.

"Trying to impress someone? Maybe someone with the last name Diggs" You teased and she rolled her eyes. Your roommate had caught the attention of Josh's friend/teammate the first time they met but she had been playing hard to get.

The two of you headed downstairs to where your Uber was waiting to take you to the pub. Founding Fathers was one of your favorites in Buffalo and Josh usually made you go after every game. The pub was crowded as you pulled up and you spotted the boys sitting in the back. After saying hi to a couple of people you knew towards the front you made your way back there.

When you got the table Josh held out his arm pulling you against him in the booth. He gave you a sweet short kiss before pulling back.

"Hi baby," he said smiling. You returned his smile.

"Hi." He kept his arm around you as he turned his attention back to the conversation. Stefon had already checked out, deep in conversation with Jaelen who was seated next to him.

"Did you have fun at the game tonight?" Josh asked you.

"Yeah but you threw an interception so that was a little bit embarrassing for me," you replied. Kyle laughed and Josh rolled his eyes.

"I swear you are rooting for me to do that just so you can make fun of me," he said pouting. You feigned shock, throwing a hand over your chest.

"Who me?"

You had fun the rest of the night hanging with Josh and his teammates and before you knew it the clock was close to one. You found Josh talking to Kyle by the door and came up to him.

"I think I'm going to head out soon," you told him and he shook his head.

"No, you are coming home with me," he told you. You sighed.

"You know I have to work tomorrow," you reminded him. You were a Physician's Assistant at a doctor's office in the suburbs and the commute was killer. Josh gave you the puppy dog eyes and you tried to look away.

"But baby, I won just for you," he said with a smirk causing you to roll your eyes.

"Oh I'm sure," you replied with a laugh before giving in. "Straight to bed though," you said pointing your finger at him.

"We'll see," he replied. The two of you bid your goodbyes and headed back to Josh's place for what you hoped would be the end of the night.

[siilvan]

Someone posted on TikTok the bios of the new MW3 operators, including Vladmirs. You have to squint and pause the video a lot to read it, but here it is: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJcKKotP/

my actual hero, ilysm 🫶 i’m gonna go ahead and post makarov’s bio for anyone curious, since it’s hard to read in the vid lol:

“Vladimir Makarov was born before the fall of the Soviet Union in the suburbs of Moscow. As the son of a high-ranking politician within the Russian government, Makarov watched the Soviet Union crumble, taking his father with it. The bright-eyed, intelligent boy woke up one morning to his father’s hanging body. Makarov came to despise his father’s weakness, as well as the failures of the Soviet Union which had brought it about. He vowed not to make the same mistakes and so began his lifelong obsession.

In 1998, Makarov joined the Russian military at the age of 18. A natural soldier with a talent for strategy, his reputation turned sour when he joined forces with an unsanctioned rogue army to maintain control of Urzikstan. When the ULF rose and took back their home, Makarov experienced his first failure.

Recognizing traces of the Soviet Union’s failures once again, Makarov pleaded with his superiors to reclaim Urzikstan, disgusted by the national mockery the ULF had made of Russian power. But the Kremlin, who had not sanctioned the attack on Urzikstan to begin with, refused, stripping Makarov of all military honors. Seeking justice, Makarov joined the Konni group and plotted an attack against Verdansk to get Russia’s attention. Captured by Captain Price and Task Force 141, Makarov was handed to Russian authorities and sentenced to life in a maximum-security gulag.

Now a liberated man, Makarov plans to resume his operations against Urzikstan and its allies. Determined to redeem himself and Russia for its past failures, Makarov will only stop at the full reclamation or annihilation of Urzikstan; and if the Kremlin’s too cowardly to play their hand, he’ll gladly force it upon the rest of the world.”

…dude’s blaming urzikstan for his joint self esteem-daddy issues, damn 😭

i feel so… conflicted lol. obviously he’s an asshole, that doesn’t need to be restated a million times, but i do feel sympathy for him as a child. he never stood a chance at a “normal” life— he was born into those insane beliefs. as an adult, he’s the only one to blame for still holding those beliefs, but it’s pretty clear that his child-mind created a link between the soviet union falling and his father dying; ergo, if he can fix the cause, he can “fix” the death. i get that.

OG makarov and reboot are both referenced as obsessive and compulsive… “developed severe OCD after his father’s death” anyone? no? i’m just projecting? understood. 🫡

i could go into far more detail about my thoughts on his backstory, but this is already a long-ass post, and i’m a little worried about looking like i’m sympathizing with him outside of the childhood trauma. like i said, he is at fault for his actions as an adult. he knows better. it’s a very interesting change from the original, though. this may just be me, but he almost seems… less intimidating? not in a bad way, i think they’ve made him feel more human and less like a caricature of evilness.

this is also 100% influencing how i write him in bloodsport lol. mmm, character analysis…

[griseldabanks]

Okay, here goes. For my birthday I'd like 21 and 29 from Let Me Count the Ways, in one fic for Ed and Al in the foster family au. Make it angsty, but also lots of hugs please! (You know what I like.)

--Rain

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Prompts: "I should have told you this a long time ago." and "It's not my fault."

Ed couldn't sleep. It was one of those warm, clear nights where the moon was full and so bright it lit up the room almost as bright as day, only with cool silvery light instead of the golden warmth of the sun. On nights like this back home, Mom would take them stargazing. She would point out all the constellations, and they would take turns looking through the telescope until Al was about to nod off, and then they'd go home and fall asleep over mugs of hot chocolate.

But now they lived in the suburbs. Roy and Riza were fast asleep, and it had probably never occurred to them to go stargazing, and you couldn't see many stars anyway because of the city lights.

A creak in the bed across the room made Ed roll over to look. Al sat on the edge of his bed, gazing out the open window with a wistful expression. The moonlight washed over his skin, turning it to ivory. He could have been a statue. The statue of a sad little boy whose mother would never take him stargazing again.

Ed sat up, drawing Al's attention. Sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed and dangling his one foot over the edge, Ed said softly, “I miss it too. Looking at the stars.”

Hugging himself as if chilled by the warm breeze, Al looked mournfully across at him. It wouldn't be the same without Mom, his eyes said. He could always tell what Al meant to say, even though no sound passed his lips.

Ed swallowed hard. Al's grief was like a knife in his ribs, in a way harder to bear than his own. It wasn't fair that Al had to grow up like this. It wasn't fair that he had to live with foster parents instead of real ones. It wasn't fair that Ed had to interpret his words instead of listening to them.

The knife stabbed harder into his side. It had been there all along, ever since that awful day....

“Al...” he whispered. “There's...something I need to tell you. Something...I should've told you this a long time ago, but I was...I was scared, I guess, of what you might say.”

Al's brow furrowed and he tilted his head to one side in confusion.

Clearing his throat, Ed dropped his gaze to the floor, where the blinds made stripes of moonlight and shadow on the floorboards. He hesitated, heart hammering against his ribs. Then, just like the first time he'd jumped into the deep end of the pool, he took a deep breath and plunged in before he could lose his nerve.

“It's my fault Mom's dead.”

He didn't dare look up to see Al's expression, but he could easily hear the sharp intake of breath. “You didn't know where we were going that night, did you?”

He heard, more than saw, Al shake his head.

“We were going to meet...him.” Ed grimaced around the sour taste in his mouth at the hazy memory of their father. He only had one image of his father in his head: the day he walked out the door.

His hands curled into fists on his knees. “He'd been sending letters. For weeks. Asking Mom if he could see us. You know how it was always my job to go check the mailbox? Well, I saw his name, and so I...hid them. Each time one would come in, I wouldn't give it to Mom, I'd read it myself and then I'd hide it under my mattress. But I didn't think about him calling on the phone. So that night...you remember how she took that phone call into her room for like an hour, and then she came out and said we had to get in the car? That's why. Because she was taking us to see him.”

All he'd wanted was to protect Mom from that jerk who'd left them. He was a traitor to their family, so they shouldn't want anything to do with him. But Ed wasn't an idiot. He may have only been eleven, but he'd heard the way Mom would talk about him, the longing way she'd look at his photos in the hallway. If he ever showed his face around town again, Ed knew she'd go running to him in a heartbeat. And just end up heartbroken all over again.

“But...if I hadn't hidden the letters...if she'd been reading them all along...it wouldn't have been that night. They would've arranged a meeting some other time, when it wasn't raining, and then she wouldn't have been so...crying and distracted...and then it wouldn't...she wouldn't have....”

A warm arm around his shoulders brought him up short. He squeezed his eyes shut, and only when he felt tears dripping onto his knee did he realize he was crying.

He sat stiffly, not leaning into Al's embrace. He didn't deserve this sympathy. He didn't even deserve to cry. “It's...It's my fault,” he choked out. “It's my fault we're...like this.”

Al's hand covered his, but he said nothing. He never said anything. He was locked in a prison of silence, all because of his stupid, stupid brother....

“You should hate me,” he whispered. “I wouldn't blame you if you did.”

Al let go of his hand and cupped Ed's cheek, gently raising it so they could meet each other's gaze. Ed looked into his brother's eyes, turned silvery in the moonlight, and he knew what Al would have said if he could: I don't blame you, brother.

“Why not?” He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear the forgiveness and gentle understanding anymore. “Why don't you hate me?”

A warm forehead nudged gently against his. Keeping one hand pressed to Ed's cheek, Al reached for Ed's and pressed his palm against his own cheek. It was wet too now.

“I know,” Ed murmured. “We're all we've got. But...that's my fault too.”

Pulling back just enough to look each other in the eye again, Al shook him slightly. Suddenly, he was all steel and stubbornness, despite the tears still trailing down his cheeks. He stabbed a finger at Ed's chest and shook his head emphatically.

“What?” Ed frowned. “You're saying it's not my fault?”

Al nodded.

“You don't blame me because it's not my fault?”

Nod.

Ed looked away, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “That's nice, Al. But I don't believe it.”

A sudden punch in the shoulder brought his attention back to Al. The glare sent his way said louder than any words, You should. Because it's true.

Scrubbing his hands over his cheeks to wipe away the tears, Ed shook his head. “Yeah, that's what all the shrinks tell me. But what do they know?”

Al leapt to his feet and smacked a hand on his chest. I know. I was there. Then he marched over to his dresser and grabbed the framed photo sitting there between piles of library books and the little collection of rocks and feathers he'd begun to accumulate. He stomped back over to Ed and shoved the picture right in front of Ed's face.

Their mother beamed back at him, her arms around a much younger Ed and Al. They all looked so happy. So content.

Ed glanced up at his brother, who insistently shoved the picture into Ed's hands. He looked down at his mother's smiling face, and for the first time, he tried to imagine what she would say if she were here. If he'd actually gotten a chance to apologize for what he'd done.

No, Ed. Don't blame yourself. It wasn't anyone's fault. The road was slick, and neither of us saw what was happening until it was too late. I'm so sorry that you and Al were hurt. But most of all, I'm sorry that I'm not there to tell you in person.

Maybe it was because he'd gotten so used to interpreting Al's silences and facial expressions, but Ed almost thought he could hear his mother's voice. A drop of moisture fell onto the glass in the frame, right over her smiling face, quickly followed by another and another.

“She'd say...sh-she'd say...it's n-not my fault....”

Al sat down on the bed beside Ed again, and when Ed blinked the tears away, he nodded with a sad little smile. Encouraging him to say it again.

“It's not my fault....” Once he said the words and really, truly believed them, Ed couldn't seem to stop saying them. “It's not my fault...it's not my fault....”

Crawling into Ed's bed, Al tugged at Ed's sleeve until he slid under the covers as well. Together, they sat and looked at the picture of their mother, resting their heads against each other.

Sometimes, Ed broke the silence by whispering, “So you don't hate me?” or “You sure it's not my fault?” And each time, Al shook his head and dried his brother's tears with a corner of the sheet. Slowly, slowly, the words settled in his heart and began to sound true.

The next morning, when Riza came in to wake the boys for breakfast, she found them slumped against the headboard, heads resting against each other and hands tightly clasped. With a smile, Riza softly backed out of the room and let them sleep a little longer.

[manstrans]

someone said on that post that trans men’s identities will be seen and respected by the majority

what world are these people living in

people are just outright denying transphobia exists as a whole at this point by acting like only one kind of trans people get it.

i guess any suicidal trans mascs need to man up and not make such a big deal. i guess any of us who went through that were deluding ourselves into thinking that society will reject us and that we may end up abandoned by families. all my family members were quick to get to call me a guy.

none of them ever accused me of saying anything perverted that I never said when I came out to my little cousin. or harassed me with my dead name. told me i was tied to my bones and when they dig me up in the future they would say i am a woman. that would just be mild discomfort though really if that did happen

getting harassed online, being called an ugly woman or a dyke or a deluded little girl (adults or not) all results in said mild discomfort. it is very easily brushed aside at the end of the day. it has no impact on mental health for people to say your top surgery scars make you look like frankenstein’s monster. people do not think a “beautiful woman” is being lost when trans mascs transition. because if people hate women, they would be totally fine with the idea of one “abandoning it”. instead of staying as pretty women that aren’t too much gnc. because a man doesn’t want to be with someone who looks like a lesbian

trans mascs never find struggle trying to get reproductive care because they are not being taken seriously. or ever had cases where doctors were late to diagnosing cancers due to this as well. because putting M down would mean anything to do with differing sex organs from cis men would not be ignored. that this is not the case for every trans person. that we do not have the issue in common of facing transphobia, and in this the shared experience of cissexism as well, in medical spheres

trans mascs never get misdiagnosed with borderline personality disorder when psychs misgender us as woman and think us being trans is the “identity disturbance” symptom. this doesn’t get any resulting impact from ableism, as personality disorders then will get you branded as a doomed person by many psychs.

people never try to fear monger trans mascs into thinking tesosterone is going to turn you into a violent, angry brute. the show The L Word never perpetuated this idea to millions of mostly cis queer women watching.

Boys Don’t Cry isn’t based off a true story. No trans masculine person can ever be rape victims as well. Or if they were, the perpetuator would never bring up the person being trans masculine as a reason.

i never saw terfs talking about correctively raping trans mascs back into lesbians

homophobia is faced by both gay men and lesbians. if anyone said gay men never facehomophobia i would ask them if they actually learned our history. or only snippets

if told that is not the same, I think they should look up Lou Sullivan for the intersection of being trans masc and gay. ask some trans mascs stories about going into bath houses and what happened when accused of being women in there. that this never led to anxiety over a consensual sexual interaction in being accused of rape for “tricking” a gay man into having sex with a “straight woman”? the trans panic defense ever comes up as a known concern in these cases

alright yeah the sarcasm is evident here.

just how do they not realize that implying that trans mascs do not experience transphobia with this is the actual terminally online take? holy shit.

either that or they get to live in a more generally progressive city and not a white suburb in the US. while also being not white. btw you don’t have any reason to think any of these problems may be emphasized if you are brown or black.

any response to this about accusing us of biological essentialism is victim blaming. what is being described are the consequences of biological essentialism that we both endure. we cannot ignore its existence. I wish we could. but transphobes won’t let us. because we challenge the fact and show that it isn’t true

YEAH I just read through this and like. everything in it. people in these echo chambers think a few snappy lines outweigh our lived experiences but it doesn't work that way at all

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Wait i might sound dumb by asking this but like what if in Blood brothers, Hunters adopted parents also took Spider in?

Not dumb at all! It's interesting to think about.

So when coming up with Hunter's adopted parents I thought about what the complete opposite of Paz and Quaritch would look like and basically came up with YouTube family bloggers without the channel. Since Spider would be about three by the time Quaritch would be going to prison he'd have a really hard time bonding with his new parents. Because from my understanding it is really hard on a kid developmentally to have their whole lives turned upside down like that. While the adoptive parents wouldn't tell either of the boys that they're adopted Spider would just kinda know deep down that they aren't his real parents. He just doesn't feel attached to them in the same way he sees other parent child relationships.

This would be Spider in the suburbs which I can't see him meshing well with. Spider actively tries to be everything his parents hate, slacks off in school, runs around town like a wild child, ripped clothes, disheveled appearance. Kiri pierced his nose for him one day during lunch and Spider thought his adoptive mom was going to ripe it right from his face the moment she laid eyes on it. Dyed his hair bright blue once and his adoptive dad almost disowned him before dragging him kicking and screaming to a barbershop to get it fixed. Hunter idolizes Spider for his rebellion but hates his parents screaming all the time. It really freaks him out and he'll usually go hide in his room until it's over.

Quaritch can see plain as day how much his eldest son hates being with his adopted parents and would just approach him with all the proof. Like hey you're parents are lying to you. I'm your real dad and here's every picture/video/document I have to prove it. Spider would be freaked out at first but after going through everything he can't deny that it's the truth. He'd show everything to Hunter who would feel confused and betrayed. Quaritch would worm his way back into the boys lives and eventually try to convince them to just runaway with him so they can be a real family

[harrison-abbott]

NOCTURNAL WOODS (1992)

When I was a boy I was never able to sleep well. I hated school and when I usually slept for a couple of hours when I got in, meaning I’d be up in the evening doing what I liked to do, which was read and watch films etc. This meant that I wasn’t tired in the late evening like neurotypical people, and I’d stay up into the a.m. hours.  

My mother disliked this and I went into this routine naively, because I still needed to go to the toilet and move around the house. And when I woke her up with bangs I’d get a beating. She was quite the monster when deducted sleep. So I learned how to sneak quietly. I learned how to place my feet on the right floorboards, avoiding the others which would wince. It was intense and like a game and I enjoyed it.

I loved the dark and its sense of creation. Daylight made a new world and in the dark there were other possibilities. People are not designed to function in the night and that’s what I liked about it.  

To this day I’m usually up at night. I’m not as quick with reading as a man but I still have insomnia or am only to rest in four-hour bouts. It doesn’t bother me much.  

But, anyway, Davies gave me a new case. Two people had been murdered in a park in a south side suburb of the city. Shot. I looked over the files and information. They were shot in the early morning; one was a middle-aged man walking his dog, the other an elderly woman taking a stroll … Their bodies were found cold around nine or ten a.m. by other dogwalkers, who called the police.  

Thus the victims must have been shot when it was still dark. Or during very low light. And thus I knew that the killer must the same admiration for the night as I did. I told Davies that I’d get right on it. I was intrigued.

I drove down to this suburban area. I met up with the teams who had sealed off the most recent murder scene with the old lady. There was no possibility of her being killed for a reason. It was obvious we were dealing with somebody of a serial psychopathic nature who would be looking to attack again soon. The spot where she was shot was wide open and near a handsome little bridge above the river.

“Morning, sir,” I shook hands with the cop who was in charge.

“Morning, Walter.”

“So have your team searched around the area yet?”

“We cut the woods off to the public yesterday. We did a routine scout around the area yesterday afternoon. It was raining like crazy and we didn’t find anything.”

I looked around. The valley rose up in a steep ascent where the trees were muffled by dense ivy.  

“Did you check up the valley, sir?” I asked.

“We went over the woods in a general way, so yes, but we were waiting for today to do a proper search.”

I took this as a no.

“Okay,” I said, “I’m going to head up the valley now and have a mosey.”

The men stayed behind and I teetered up the hill alone. Indeed the strands were slippery with the recent rainfall; my breath puffed out in clumsy clouds. I got maybe fifty metres up and looked down at the bridge with the policemen by it. What I was looking for was some kind of vantage point where I expected the killer to have shot from.

I scanned the ground and went through the branches of the trees. There were many places where he could get an easy shot from this range. But I simply didn’t find any evidence of him being there. So I went back down the valley.

“Find anything, detective?” the cop said to me.

“I didn’t, no. But could you take me to the spot where the other person was shot? The man?”

As we went along the trail I scanned the landscape. These were fairly heavy woods and any whiff of urbanity was a half-mile off. We ducked away from the river where the path led down under another hillside. Rocky and craggy with birches clung to its canvass. The policeman showed me where the man had been shot.

“What happened to his dog?” I said. “The dead man’s dog.”

“His dog? Oh, I actually didn’t think about that. I think somebody found it.”

The rockface arose wildly above me. I noticed it came to an abrupt end at the top – a distance high enough to kill you if you jumped from there. I told the policeman I was going to go searching again and he could come if he wanted but he refrained and said he would stay behind.  

I obviously couldn’t climb the rock bit directly so I went into the woods the far side of it and picked my way through the ferns and thickets, using the tree roots to lever myself up. Was quite fun. I reached the top and came up to the area at the top of the cliff.  

There were footprints in the mud. Boots, a man’s size, a big man. I avoided them and edged my way towards the clifftop. I could see the policeman at the bottom. Another perfect shooting position. Then I saw something in the grass, and I went closer. It was a flask. As in, a coffee flask, lying there. He’d left it behind. By it the grass was leaden down as if somebody had been sitting there reading.

Good stuff. I knew I would have to wait for this man. He would be returning here again to kill or perhaps he was still here already, spying on me. Maybe I could lure him out and tempt him into a duel. Either way it would have to be done at night. The quickest way to catch him would be through some form of espionage. He would not strike in the day. Only in the nocturnal escapism of the woods.

I told my plan to Davies on the phone. He was uneasy about it. I told him I wanted to do it alone.  

“So you reckon there’s a good chance he’s still in the woods?” Davies said.

“I just have a hunch, boss.”

“As in, he’s camping out there? How big is the forest anyway?”

“He very well might be and it’s large enough to hide in.”

“You sure you don’t want to have a team with you?”

“It would work better with one man.”

“Well, if that’s how you want to proceed then so be it.”

I ordered the policemen in the woods to keep the area off-limits to the public. Then they could leave. I drove to the nearest supermarket and got some whisky in. I sat in my car near the woodland and read the newspaper, waiting for it to get dark. There was a pretty sunset and then the night cloaked the area and all fell silent, and I set out into the woods.  

The only tactic was to explore; I didn’t quite have a plan save to find further clues he might have left. So I took off the public trail and went into the rough parts. The ivy covered everything like an evergreen plague. And a thick frost multiplied on the leaves in a magical haze. The whiteness of the frost gave off small light which helped me in an arena which was otherwise pitch black.  

I saw something ahead of me in the gloom. It slid across the frosty ivy every so faintly. Then there was a rustle in the trees ahead of it. I followed and came to said trees and looked down the other side, onto a hillside where this shape was angling down it. He moved fast and skilful down the slope. That was him, that was the killer. I didn’t expect to find him so fast.

A tingle came over my body. I brought my bottle out and drank as his body reached the bottom of the hill. It was like being in a film, or watching something cryptic in a play. When he vanished into a new group of trees I pursued.

I was bemused at how easy he descended the slope because it was gnarly and lubricious. I fumbled down it slow and awkward, all the whiles losing time on the man below me. And I reached the bottom and looked into an abyss of trees and couldn’t see him. I’d also lost the point where I’d seen him last – was confused. I chose a location and ventured. Then I caught a smell of something.

Woodsmoke.

That pearly homely smell. It came from behind me, which proved I’d gone the wrong way. So I followed the woodsmoke instead and came to a cluster of holly bushes. Through the leaves I saw the miraculous glow of firelight. I peeled closer and peered through the branches.  

I saw him perched by a bonfire. He was working at something in front of him: I was too far away to see what it was but it looked like he was knitting. As I watched I drank, feeling smug that he didn’t know I was there. Then he stopped whatever he was doing and he put something into a bag. Then he left the bag there and moved off into the woods again and vanished from view. I came out of the hollies and went up to the bonfire.

The rucksack was small and I looked inside it. There was a bottle of water, some apples, a pencil and a notebook. I looked inside it and there were all kinds of slinky handwriting inside it. The letters were so small I couldn’t read it.  

Suddenly I heard a noise ahead of me in the trees and I flinched and tucked the book back in the bag and then ran off. I dove into the bushes as the killer came back to his fire. He came up to the flames and I saw his frame for the first proper time. He was huge. And he’d stopped and was looking at his bag. Because it had changed position. I’d moved it.  

Then he brought his rife out and started looking around the trees. I swallowed and then crouched up. The killer took a torch out and clicked it on and the battery beam of it was wondrous in the night. He held the rifle in one hand and torch in another and came towards where I was hiding. Closer and closer and suddenly the dark was undone. The torch overpowered the weeds and bushes.  

I stood up and ran and simultaneously the light hit me. He swore. Then he took aim and fired. And a gush of timber spat out of the tree trunk in front of me and I ran on. I dove through more tree trunks. He shot a second time and the bullet whistled into time but didn’t hit me. I pulled my own gun out and ran. There was no way of telling where he was and the other immediate danger was running into one of these trees.

Something snagged my foot and I fell over, cartoonish, landing on my face. Then I saw him lurking between the trees. Hunting. Thirty yards from me and then twenty and I was on the floor watching him. His torch whipped about and then it found me.

His face disappeared behind the torchlight. He brought his rifle up and shot. My body jarred and jolted aside. I felt a tremendous weakness. The torchlight beamed closer and closer. I brought my pistol out and shot at it. I shot at the torch, not the human, and that made it easier. And the torch twirled away.  

I heard the man gasp and grunt. The torch was lying in the weeds and I could dimly see the killer squirming on the floor. I’d shot him somewhere in the torso.  

My left knee was shot. First time I’d ever been whacked by a bullet. I had a clear aim at him again and it would’ve been easy to shoot a second time. I hesitated.

He grumbled up and got a stance and lumbered away from me. I could have capped him then but I didn’t, I didn’t want to.

The reverb of the gun battle still hung in the woods in failed echoes.  

I turned my lighter on and looked at my gunshot wound. It had blown away a chunk of the lower calf. Not good but not lethal if I could get to a hospital in time. Okay, so I needed to get out of the woods. First thing I needed to do was stand up. I scrawled over to a tree trunk and lifted myself up using my right leg for support. And the blood flumed down my left knee in hot currents.

There was a branch above me which might serve as a crutch for the time being. I broke it off. It was tall and sturdy enough and a lucky find. Then I drank. I downed as much as I could for the next journey.

And as I went I got thinking about my mother in the old house again, when I used to sneak around to try and play with her. My mother always seemed old and irritable. She never spoke much and never particularly liked me … Did I sneak around the house because I wanted to prove one of her tantrums? Maybe I enjoyed those explosive bells when I woke her up by mistake … And maybe I got so good at evasion that I had no relationship with her at all.

And now I was here in the woods with a firm possibility of bleeding to death. I wasn’t going to go out without being drunk. Fuck that. So I drank as much as I could and then I came to the river.  

I didn’t even know I was that close to the river but suddenly there I was and there was no other option save to jump it. So I jumped. And I landed about a yard off the bank the other side. And I tried to jump with my walking stick but it fell away and the current took it downstream. I came out of the water laughing, and headed out of the dead shrubbery. And I came upon the main trail.

The public trail – I was here! I recognised where I was suddenly, a little bit. If I followed it west I should come upon the scene where the woman was murdered. And I walked along it, an idiot, a failed detective, a failed spy. I reached the taped-off scene of the woman.  

I wondered why a good woman like that deserved to die compared to a vagabond like me. Maybe she wasn’t a good woman; maybe she had an insidious past filled with selfish vengeance and greed and was like that until she was shot in the head by some random lunatic in the forest. Who knows. That’s what crime is there for.

The trail continued and I came upon the streetlamps beyond the trees in the far distance and knew I was going to survive. There was further tape on the main entrance to the park and I ducked under it and went along the road and found my car and I got inside and tried not to think about my leg.  

I didn’t really feel much in the way of panic. Perhaps I’d been trying to kill myself for such a long time there wasn’t much difference in the current situation …  

The bottle was nearly dry. I knew that there was a big hospital on the south side of the city. It was only a ten minute drive away in fact. Handy.

It felt good to be back in urbanity. And the car warmed me up. I stuck the radio on and a national audio brought me back to society – a place where I never belonged. And I finished my bottle on the way to the hospital and met not a single other car in the indigo icy morning.

THE END

[parkitaco]

the record boygenius :):):)

:):):) i was midway thru answering this when i saw yours and it is so funny how many of ours are the same (we r both gay and mentally ill it makes sense)

with you without them

please take what i can give / i want you to hear my story and Be A Part Of It

$20

in another life!!! we were arsonists!!!!!! (<- this was written abt us btw)

emily i'm sorry

emily i'm sorry. baby. you know how. i get when i'm wrong

true blue

you can't help !!! but become the sun!!!!

cool about it

i came prepared for absolution!!! if you'd!! only!!! ask!!!

but also

*inhales*

once i took your medication to know what it's like AND NOW I HAVE TO ACT LIKE I CAN'T READ YOUR MINDDDD

not strong enough

every single lyric. but mostly

i tried / i can't stop staring at the ceiling fan and / SPINNING OUT ABOUT!! THINGS THAT HAVEN'T HAPPENED!!!

revolution 0

i fomd. i edogh. i don't. wanna die. that's a lie. but i'm afraid to get sick. i don't know. what that is

leonard cohen

(straight up copy pasted this one from u) leonard cohen. once said. theres a crack in everything thats how the light. gets in. and i am not an old man having an ex i s t ensia l cr is i s. at a bud d his t mo na. ste r y. writing horny poetry. but i agree!

satanist

will you be a nihilist with me <33 if nothing matters man That's a Relief

we're in love

i'll be the boy w the pink carnation pinned to my lapel. who looks like Hell. amd askdk for hlepppp

anti curse

i have Many for this one but uhhh

tried to be a halfway decent friend wound up a bad comedian and honest fool w more bad habits Than You Can Count

breaking curfew w illegal fireworks. unpacking god. in the suburbs

and then just. i'm swimming back - all the way through to the end

letter to an old poet

YOU THINK YOU'RE A GOOD PERSON. BECAUSE YOU WON'T PUNCH ME. IN THE STOMACH.