#this is a bedtime thought

[acowardinmordor]

Hey. What if Chrissy was cursed, but she doesn’t go to Eddie to ask for ket, she goes to ask for carboprost. And maybe she doesn’t call it that by name, and maybe she doesn’t outright say that she can’t stay pregnant because it would mean that she’d have to marry Jason, but that doesn’t matter. Because in this version, Eddie is the child of an accidental pregnancy, and his mom and dad got married, and it destroyed his mom. So fuck that noise.

Normally, he’d have the meds on hand, and would offer to drive her out of town to a clinic. He happens to be out, and Chrissy is terrified (because Vecna is making it all so much worse) so Eddie changes something.

He offers to drive Dustin home, and has Chrissy with him. Dustin thinks this is hella weird, but Eddie says that he needs to talk to Claudia. Dustin still demands answers, but the kid knows that his mom is a nurse, and it has to be important to happen at 11 on a Friday. Chrissy stays in the car with her favorite music playing to help her calm down, while Eddie has a quick, awkward conversation with Claudia. She thinks Eddie got his girlfriend pregnant and gives him a look about it. She didn’t think that situation was a possible problem for Eddie tbh.

Claudia doesn’t have a random bag of abortion meds with her - that would be insane - but she works the next day, and can get Chrissy in quickly and quietly. Before opening.

Eddie goes back out to the van with the news, planning to ignore Dustin’s questions the entire way, and then leave. Thus. Dustin is with Eddie when Chrissy pauses the tape to listen. Thus. Dustin sees her cursed, and he’s a little shit, but he is always right. Cranks the music back up, manages, with Eddie’s help, to snap her out of it.

Dustin runs inside to grab his walkie, shout to his mom he’s having a sleepover, and starts the fight 16 hours early.

—-

Hot potato if you want it

[worsesart]

Nowhere to go but down

[sensorydephrivation]

Guys this isn’t funny anymore 😭😭😭

They went to a bar in these costumes. In a couple’s costume. Everyone there will Know or at least Assume. And they don’t care. They are GAY and HAPPY and FREE and honestly that’s what I’m here for. Just the freedom to let yourself be queer. Let yourself show all the love you feel. I don’t have it for myself, so I’m so glad that these fuckass twinks are getting it now. It’s about time.

[awearywritersworld]

mdni

prisoner!toji x prison doctor!reader, anyone?

the first time you meet him, it's because he busts his knuckles so badly in a fight that he needs stitches.

"had i known there was such a pretty little thing hiding back here, i'd have done this a lot sooner."

the only response you offer is a roll of your eyes.

despite your evident disinterest, he visits the infirmary much more frequently after that day. the next time, he swears he feels ill and that there's something going around his cellblock.

"so, why's a nurse like you working in a place like this?"

"doctor."

"doctor, hm?" he muses. "i guess i really don't have a shot, then."

you let out a breath, something between a laugh and a scoff. the pads of your fingers prod at the lymph nodes below his jaw, and you conclude that he's probably feeling just fine. "not a chance."

a week later, he hurts his shoulder while weight lifting in the prison gym.

"you should really be more careful," you chide, rather confident his small winces aren't for show.

"if it means i get to see your pretty face, why should i?"

it's unbelievably inappropriate the way heat rises to your cheeks, but you can't help it.

so for the next two months, you just ignore it.

you ignore the easy conversation that seems to flow between the two of you. you ignore when his hand brushes against your thigh as you press your stethoscope to his chest. you ignore the fact you look forward to his visits.

but late one night, he's brought to infirmary after a fight with his cellmate. his eye is black, his lip is split, and his knuckles are bloody.

and you think fate must have it out for you, because you can't ignore it anymore. not when he's pushing you against the wall, a medical tray clattering to the floor in his haste. not when his lips devour yours hungrily, his grip on your hips brutal and unforgiving. not when he's sighing your name against your mouth, his soft tone a stark contrast to his actions.

finally you gather yourself enough to pull away, to ask him what the hell he's doing.

it doesn't matter though, because it's too late. you've had a taste of him, and you are so unimaginably screwed.

[tombama]

Slippery Slopes

[kittykatninja321]

Thinking about how Bruce treated Jason’s legacy after his death is kinda pissing me off and the only consolation is knowing that whatever peace Bruce created for himself by warping his memory and telling himself that Jason’s death was due to his own recklessness and anger in order to cope was greatly disturbed and shaken by Jason’s return. Pain and suffering on planet earth <3

[vellichorsdesire]

f/o making up a small sign such as tugging the end of your sleeve to coax you into a hug— each time you notice the sign and allow them to hug you, you can’t help but notice it grows more and more longer… them even resulting in maybe rubbing your back as comfort or even adjusting their grasp and hugging you a little tighter as if you’ll slip away so easily from their arms.

(you can’t help but notice either than when you return such a secure hug back, the type that silently reassures that ‘i’m here,’ they sigh so contentedly near your ear that you’re sure that’s probably the reason why the hugs last so long)

[skeptical-saniwa]

The Sunday thought of the week:

Ok what if when Sunday’s frustratedly jealous & upset because you’re clueless about his feelings towards you (how many times has he made it obvious?) & you go on dates with other people

& since he doesn’t want to admit that, he just subconsciously flaps his wings real fast as he listens to you talk about your dating escapades🧍‍♀️

[lazylittledragon]

parenting is hard y'know

[silasplaskett]

i think the crux of eddie and helenas relationship is that helena wanted to be a boy mom so bad but her one boy is just kinda strange and gay and even tho he tries so hard to be good at being a man it never totally works out for him in adulthood so now helenas backup plan is to be a boy grandma but her stupid gay son wont even let her do that. meanwhile eddie doesn’t know he’s gay he just knows he doesn’t live up to his moms expectations.

[starkspi]

these sketches are all inspired by @miribalis fanfiction "Managerial Liberties" where Adam stays at the hotel (spoiler - he is not happy and he is still stupid) [and please everyone who sees this post also has to read "Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before the Next Angelic War" so we can scream in each other's faces how INSANELY good both fanfictions are]

[pan-withnoplan]

ok yes we are all very much not normal about wwx remembering a song lwj hummed to him once while he was completely out of it into his next life as if it was an anchor for his soul but what really gets me is the context in which he starts to play it.

Wwx has been playing for a bit by this point, so wangxian was technically not the first song (or not the first sequence of notes) that came to his mind. What brought it out was the need for a calmer song to make wen ning cool down.

Wwx remembered wangxian when he reached inside himself for calm and tranquility.

[basket-of-radiants]

Sorry, this was gonna be a comic with an actual punchline, but this part was funnier just on its own.

[thedomesticanthropologist]

The abandonment wound that turns into a deep, never healing "I want someone to take care of me" is just

So

Big sometimes

And so often we become the one who takes care of people - those of us with this wound.

The hard thing is, learning how to take care of yourself really well doesn't heal it. Learning how to ask for help when you need it doesn't heal it. Learning to live with it doesn't heal it.

Nothing really does, when that "step" in your early childhood was either missed, mishandled, or otherwise fumbled spectacularly enough to cause this kind of wound. It's hard in complicated cases too, where you were cared for in many ways but maybe not the one that mattered. Or you were cared for in ever way but inconsistently. Or it was from a source that betrayed or abandoned you, even if you were handed off immediately to someone else that took care of you. There is no wrong way to receive this wound, nor is there a competition for who gets to feel it the hardest or the deepest.

But those who have it recognize each other, I think. We do, even if we don't know what it is we are recognizing. Even if the wounds were caused in different ways, even if our stories look so very different.

"I want someone to take care of me"

It may just always be there, in some way or another. It may even be unwanted, where you can't articulate it or you become hyper independent. It may be desperately wanted and cause clinging and limerance and all those painful things. It may be witnessed and cared for and managed by someone who sees their wound and does all the 'right' things.

But it doesn't really ever leave, does it

And we find each other, don't we?

[vcrnons]

woozi loves his team, he loves his crew.

[after-witch]

some mahito thoughts

I do love writing Mahito with kidnapped readers, but oh there is something particularly fun about a reader who is in a consensual relationship with him because it's still so, so fucked up, just in a completely different way.

In a way that I think, becomes more hurtful and personal and dangerous.

Because if you've been kidnapped, you're not there willingly. You want nothing to do with Mahito. You know he's awful and you hate his touch and presence.

If you're in a willing relationship in him... you want him around you, your stomach flips when he shows up, you are greedy for his kisses, his touch, his very presence.

But you're also not stupid. You know what he is. You know what he's doing.

While you're whimpering into his push-you-against-the-wall-because-someone-in-a-movie-did-it-and-he-wants-to-try kisses, another human being (a dozen human beings? more?) is out there, writhing and deformed in a sewer, begging for death, all because of the same hands that ghost over your shoulders, down your sides; the same hands you want all over you.

You know all this, but you push it down, because being with Mahito makes you feel good. Makes you feel special, in some ways.

And that's just beautifully fucked up.