#why are. you so hard. to write.

[eavangeek]

You'll never guess what I'm doing

[inkskinned]

i have chronic pain. i am neurodivergent. i understand - deeply - the allure of a "quick fix" like AI. i also just grew up in a different time. we have been warned about this.

15 entire years ago i heard about this. in my forensics class in high school, we watched a documentary about how AI-based "crime solving" software was inevitably biased against people of color.

my teacher stressed that AI is like a book: when someone writes it, some part of the author will remain within the result. the internet existed but not as loudly at that point - we didn't know that AI would be able to teach itself off already-biased Reddit threads. i googled it: yes, this bias is still happening. yes, it's just as bad if not worse.

i can't actually stop you. if you wanna use ChatGPT to slide through your classes, that's on you. it's your money and it's your time. you will spend none of it thinking, you will learn nothing, and, in college, you will piss away hundreds of thousands of dollars. you will stand at the podium having done nothing, accomplished nothing. a cold and bitter pyrrhic victory.

i'm not even sure students actually read the essays or summaries or emails they have ChatGPT pump out. i think it just flows over them and they use the first answer they get. my brother teaches engineering - he recently got fifty-three copies of almost-the-exact-same lab reports. no one had even changed the wording.

and yes: AI itself (as a concept and practice) isn't always evil. there's AI that can help detect cancer, for example. and yet: when i ask my students if they'd be okay with a doctor that learned from AI, many of them balk. it is one thing if they don't read their engineering textbook or if they don't write the critical-thinking essay. it's another when it starts to affect them. they know it's wrong for AI to broad-spectrum deny insurance claims, but they swear their use of AI is different.

there's a strange desire to sort of divorce real-world AI malpractice over "personal use". for example, is it moral to use AI to write your cover letters? cover letters are essentially only templates, and besides: AI is going to be reading your job app, so isn't it kind of fair?

i recently found out that people use AI as a romantic or sexual partner. it seems like teenagers particularly enjoy this connection, and this is one of those "sticky" moments as a teacher. honestly - you can roast me for this - but if it was an actually-safe AI, i think teenagers exploring their sexuality with a fake partner is amazing. it prevents them from making permanent mistakes, it can teach them about their bodies and their desires, and it can help their confidence. but the problem is that it's not safe. there isn't a well-educated, sensitive AI specifically to help teens explore their hormones. it's just internet-fed cycle. who knows what they're learning. who knows what misinformation they're getting.

the most common pushback i get involves therapy. none of us have access to the therapist of our dreams - it's expensive, elusive, and involves an annoying amount of insurance claims. someone once asked me: are you going to be mad when AI saves someone's life?

therapists are not just trained on the book, they're trained on patient management and helping you see things you don't see yourself. part of it will involve discomfort. i don't know that AI is ever going to be able to analyze the words you feed it and answer with a mind towards the "whole person" writing those words. but also - if it keeps/kept you alive, i'm not a purist. i've done terrible things to myself when i was at rock bottom. in an emergency, we kind of forgive the seatbelt for leaving bruises. it's just that chat shouldn't be your only form of self-care and recovery.

and i worry that the influence chat has is expanding. more and more i see people use chat for the smallest, most easily-navigated situations. and i can't like, make you worry about that in your own life. i often think about how easy it was for social media to take over all my time - how i can't have a tiktok because i spend hours on it. i don't want that to happen with chat. i want to enjoy thinking. i want to enjoy writing. i want to be here. i've already really been struggling to put the phone down. this feels like another way to get you to pick the phone up.

the other day, i was frustrated by a book i was reading. it's far in the series and is about a character i resent. i googled if i had to read it, or if it was one of those "in between" books that don't actually affect the plot (you know, one of those ".5" books). someone said something that really stuck with me - theoretically you're reading this series for enjoyment, so while you don't actually have to read it, one would assume you want to read it.

i am watching a generation of people learn they don't have to read the thing in their hand. and it is kind of a strange sort of doom that comes over me: i read because it's genuinely fun. i learn because even though it's hard, it feels good. i try because it makes me happy to try. and i'm watching a generation of people all lay down and say: but i don't want to try.

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (page 97-100)

* Where could she be?

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[makingshortstorieslong]

A little zine about how I (still) have trouble saying the word aromantic.

I've never made a zine before! I was inspired to try it because @queerliblib mentioned a zine making night in an email. That hasn't happened yet - its on June 26th - but once I had the idea, I couldn't wait, lol. It was nice to put something down on paper and have the finished product to hold onto.

Image descriptions under the cut:

Page 1: Three tiny speech bubbles say: "Do you have a bf? Do you like anyone? What's your type?" A big speech bubble says, "Oh, I don't date." The big speech bubble comes from a heart colored like the aromantic flag. 

Page 2 says: I could say: "Actually, I'm... ...aromantic." ...aro." ...aromantic asexual." ...aroace."

Page 3 says: But there are a few problems:

aromantic: Has been misheard as "A Romantic".

aro: Opaque if you don't already know the term.

aromantic asexual: A mouthful! And sounds...scientific?

aroace: shares The Big Problem: it may require a vocabulary lesson!

Page 4 says: It doesn't actually come up too often! Which is fine. My coworkers, my neighbors, and strangers don't need to know I'm aroace. I just wish I could say it sincerely when I do want someone to know. 

Page 5 says: I always have to smile - laugh - hedge. "Oh, well, actually, I'm kind of like, aromantic? Basically just not interested."

It's been more than 8 years since the first time I said it out loud!  I'm certain of it, but I still can't say it like I mean it!

Page 6 says: The most memorable time I said "I don't date" the guy I was talking to asked "Oh are you asexual?" and I said "Yeah, actually. And aromantic." And we moved on.

That was nice. 

Page 7 says:

The times I've lead with "I'm aromantic" -- well, there's only one I really remember:

"I didn't use to think that was a real thing." 

Other than that time -- even if I use the word, I always explain what it means first! 

Page 8 says: I just hope that one day I'll feel like I can say, simply, confidently: "I'm aromantic" and "I'm aroace."

The words "I'm aromantic" are big and dark green, the color of the top stripe of the aromantic flag. The words "I'm aroace" are big and bright orange, the color of the top stripe of the aroace flag. Three hearts below the words are colored to look like the aromantic, aroace, and asexual flags. 

[popeabbot]

Wondering Why

Summary: When someone you love gets in an accident your parents are forced to come see you. Jack sees why you don’t talk to them, you wonder what you did to deserve him as he continues to pick up your broken pieces

Jack AbbotXfem!reader - established relationship (married)

wc:7.7k

tags: Prosthetic!Jack Abbot, age gap(like late 20s/mid 40s probs)Death, gore, angst, medical innacuracies, descriptions of suicidal tendencies, cursing, fighting, smut, literally SO MUCH PLOT w/happy ending porn, hurt/comfort, Jack going soldier mode and being defensive against your asshole dad

This fic had been living in my head all week so you KNOW I had to post it before tonight!!! Hope y'all enjoy!

December in Pittsburg meant snow and ice, and black ice. On top of your nightly regulars you now had to worry about car wrecks. Junkies, slip and falls, college kids coming home from break and doing stupid shit never phased you. Emergency medicine was your life. But you’d never admit that you lived for the thrill, so quiet nights were absolutely grueling. 

Hour 10

“Mmmm, it’s too qui-” Shen began as he set your coffee down.

“Shen I am not in the fucking mood,” you counter with a deadly tone. Jack giggled from his station, reaching somewhere for Shen’s banned words jar. One dollar for saying any of the banned words but he had to pay 5 bucks if a banned word flipped the whole shift. Thankfully before he could finish the sentence you were whisked away. Shen shrank under your glare as he dumped a couple bills in the Jar.

“Doc…do you have to tell my mom about this?” The 19 year old boy asked sheepishly as you stitched up his leg.

“As long as you can hide the stitch and come up with an excuse for the scar then no,” you placed a gentle hand on his leg as he flinched, “but you probably shouldn’t be stealing vapes and running off. The black ice will kill you before the vapor does.” He rubbed his hands against the back of his head and nodded solemnly as you gave him his care instructions and sent him on his way. You rolled your eyes and let out a small scoff, at least he seemed to understand your tone. Kids these days. Jeez. A knock broke you from your thoughts. 

“Doctor Abbot?” Macie Spencer leaned in the doorway, her usual sunny demeanor had a cloud over it. 

“Hey Macie, what’s up?” you stood from your chair coming to meet her. Kiara was the day shift social worker and a wonderful woman, but Robby’s daughter Macie was the human embodiment of sunshine and kindness no matter what. Seeing her shaken bothered you.

“Dr. Jack is looking for you, I’m gonna keep the family occupied as long as I can but it’s, it’s bad.” You trashed your gloves and ripped a new pair from the box on the wall before rushing to the commotion. Two nurses and security had a man and a woman separated, though the separation just made them shout louder. Jack was on the ground doing compressions on a teenager…whose mouth was covered in blood. You fell next to him, taking over compressions so he could run to grab what he needed. Jack kept asking what she took with no answer from either parent, they were in hysterics. You couldn’t help but stare at the girl’s father, he seemed disoriented, almost like his body was there but he wasn’t. 

“Gurney?!”

“Need to try to get her back first.” 

The mother screamed and cried in Bridget's arms, yelling about how ‘it’ was all her husband's fault, her husband took her daughter away. You tried to hold back your own familial feelings as you continued to do your job, stopping and continuing as Jack instructed. After getting a line in, you moved the girl to a gurney, tubes were everywhere and monitors beeped and blared off and on. You weren’t losing her but you weren’t getting her back either. Her BP and heart rate were high but her blood ox was dangerously low, her lips beginning to turn an odd shade of purple.  

“Macie, find out what the hell she took!” You yelled out into the hall, praying Macie would hear you over the yelling. After a few minutes of needed silence, she slid into the room. 

“Dad said it could be ketamine….or antifreeze.” What. The. Fuck.

“We gotta-,” You looked to Jack, eyes wide with horror. He’d already read your mind and was setting the pump up, after prepping the girl he turned the machine on. Her stomach contents were a sickly green, chunks of her stomach lining coming out with it. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to hold back your gag, Jack's hand lingering over the small of your back. After pumping her stomach you pushed charcoal into her IV. Your team worked for another thirty minutes before you would have to deliver the news that she likely wouldn’t be coming off of a ventilator. You ripped your gloves off, in what scenario would she be drinking fucking antifreeze?! Tears began to prick in your eyes but you forced them away, you were prepared to go to that father with a face of stone. 

“I’ll talk to dad, you talk to mom. Keep them separated.” You stated, Jack shot up a brow in your direction, until he caught onto what you were thinking. He squeezed your hand tightly, his wedding band pushed into the flesh of your palm, grounding you. Dad seemed disoriented as you delivered the news, it wasn’t shock but pure denial. You tried to press him for more details but the death of his daughter seemed to be the final crack in the wall, you gripped his elbow, catching him as his knees buckled. “Sir, I am so sorry. This is unimaginable. If she took something that she bought and you knew..I need you to tell me. Help me save someone's son or daughter?” He looked to you with wide, bloodshot eyes, and solemnly shook his head no. 

“It’s too late.” Was all he said. You took a deep breath and let him know that Macie would lead him through the next steps with the police. 

You sat at your station, dragging your hands up and down your face before going back to charting the experiences of the night. A car flew into the ambulance bay, you sighed deeply. What disaster was making its appearance now? The car sped off as you reached the trauma bay doors, yet another homeboy ambulance dumping someone off in the cold. The woman was gaunt, her thin clothes not doing much to shield her from the weather. 

“Need some help!” You hollered, carrying the woman into the ED. Jack ran up to you, taking the woman from your tight grasp. The two of you ran to the closest trauma bay and after stripping and gowning her you began to assess. Her skin was pale and taut, lips turning an odd shade of purplish blue. Her veins were bright against her skin, you pulled her lid up, shining a small flashlight in her eyes. “Mmm, pupils aren’t reactive to light..”

“Blood ox is low, her BP is 86/60, systolic is 10mgs, lets see if we can wake her up.” Jack moved quickly to the front of the patient, rubbing her chest roughly with no response. Jack poked at the taut skin, a thin line pressed into his lips. He was worried about something but keeping it to himself. “Push warm fluids, and get her some warming blankets, I’m worried it could be hypotension caused by hypothermia. Keep a close eye on her, page Dr. Abbot as soon as she wakes up.” 

Jesse nodded as Taylor ran off to get warming blankets, you collected the woman's things that Chase had left and walked back to your station. Your frown deepened as you found nothing to identify her. “Gotta Jane Doe,” you announced as you started a chart on your laptop. The hospital began to buzz as day shift started to come in, the sun hid away as the day started without her. Jack came up behind you placing a kiss to the top of your head.

7am-Hour 12

“I’m so mad you get to go home while I have to work a double,” you grumbled, Jack laughed into  your hair as he leaned down to clock out. How could you stay mad at him when he was just so perfect. He placed a hand on your bicep gingerly and pulled you from your station, before you could protest you were out of the ED and inside the main hospital. Jack slipped your jacket on before following suit, his hand interlacing with your own. His calluses were rough, but a physical attribute of his you loved as he rubbed small circles over your thumb. The two of you were on the roof before you even realized it, sitting against the cold concrete you leaned into your husband. 

“Wanna talk about it?” He played with your hair with one hand and rubbed the other one up and down your waist, using enough pressure to keep you awake. You hummed into his neck, just wanting to share a moment alone before you were thrown back to the wolves. The light scruff on his jaw tickled your lips as you pressed in a kiss, bringing a smile to his face, “I wish I could take you home with me…mmm maybe I could convince Robby to cover,” he mused, pressing kisses into your neck. But you knew that wouldn’t happen, Gloria would chew all of your heads off considering you’d already gotten Jack out of working Christmas Eve AND Christmas. Jack had invited guests so PTMC would have to wait. Your silent bliss was interrupted by the snow that began to fall, Jack kissed you deeply, cupping both sides of your jaw before leaving, he’d be back later to pick you up.

Text me if anything comes up, you know i’ll wake up for you.

Your heart swelled as you walked back into the ER with a fresh cup of coffee, that man would truly give the world for you. And you would let him. Dana pulled you into a tight hug as you gave her an update on the teenage girl in South 10 and the Jane Doe in 15.

“Macie is a natural,” you commented to Robby as he sat next to you, your breakfast in hand. “It’s not an easy case but she’s being wonderful, amazing Macie!” Robby smiled and nodded as he slid your breakfast wrap onto a plate.

“Couldn’t be prouder. Make sure you eat. I already watched too many close call collisions on my walk here, could get busy.”

“I can’t believe you still walk in the snow,” you mumbled through chewing, “I swear you’re like part bear!” Robby decided to ignore the bear comment as he got up to do rounds, you scarfed the rest of your burrito down before checking the board. Triage the waiting room, simple enough and a nice buffer from how your night shift ended. Working a double was never fun when you’d already been working 12 hours but you prayed your shift would go smoothly. But there was one of Shen’s banned phrases popping into your head: smooth shift. 

Between food poisoning, kids with colds and broken limbs from ice, you checked in on your two night patients. Jane Doe’s condition had improved slightly, and Macie was in a heated discussion with the teenage girl's father. You started to walk towards her, feeling the need to protect her when you were pulled away once again.

“The Cracken is back.” You huffed, hands on your hips as you watched the man thrash in his restraints. Robby rolled his eyes at the nickname, he really didn’t like that ‘the cracken’ had become the patient’s name around the ER.

“Should we sedate him?” Dr. Whitaker asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. 

“If you wanna jump in there be my guest but they ace’d him on the ride over,” you flipped your wrist to check your watch. “Give 'em 10 minutes, if he’s still causing problems, come find me.” You clapped his shoulder and went to check in on more patients, confiring with Robby when cases got tough. When the ER seemed to fall into its usual chaos, you took a moment to check on the teenage patient and her parents. When you walked into- Maddy Nichols- room, her mother sat with her holding her hand.

“Hi Mrs. Nichols I haven’t been able to speak with you but I'm Dr. Abbot, my husband and I triaged your daughter last night.” Maddy’s mother looked up to you briefly, her eyes bloodshot and brimmed with tears. You sat beside her, placing your hand over hers. “Maddy’s tox screen came back…do you know why there was antifreeze in her system? I heard you yell that all of this was your husband's fault.” You watched as the young mothers face fell, tears beginning to fall freely.

“He was trying to...to do it himself. He’d blended it in a smoothie so I wouldn’t know but left it out. Maddy saw his and made a fresh one- wa-wanting to sit with her dad and share smoothies. He didn’t clean the blender out…Maddy was just trying to love, love him!” The woman turned and crumpled into your arms. You rubbed her back gently, holding your gaze on Maddy’s gentle face. This poor girl had been taken away from the poor choices of her hurting father. Kiara came in and sat across from the two of you, but you weren’t going to leave until this mother had let out her grief. Robby was on call, the ER could live with one attending for a few minutes.

“I- I’m sorry Dr. Abbot,” Maddy’s mother sniffled, pulling away from you.

“Never, never, apologize for needing to take a minute to grieve. I am so sorry we couldn’t save Maddy, but keep honoring her, talk about her everywhere you go. Listen to her music, watch her favorite movies, and eat her favorite foods when you go out. If you honor her that way she will never leave you.” You squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. 

You introduced her to Kiara and explained why she was there and what her purpose was. “If you want me here when you let her go, I will be.” She nodded silently, turning back to her daughter and softly grazing her face. You took a mental picture of the girl with the note of ‘Maddy Nichols, accidental death, beautiful soul. 

You would honor her.

Hour 17

The Pitt made it to noon when shit really hit the fan. Dana stood on the nurses station, pulling the intercom phone up with her. 

“Code triage, 50 car pileup on the I-, multiple patients are about to be headed this way, move whoever you can upstairs!” Like a well oiled machine everyone worked to move as  many healthy people as possible. You were now jumping from patient to patient, trauma’s varied from case to case but your mortality rate was low: for now. You’d just finished relocating a man’s shoulder when Dr. Vienna Summers walked in.

“I’ll finish this, you need to go,” She stepped in, slowly bringing the man's arm down and placing it into a sling.

“Vi, what are you talking about? Are you leaching my patients?” You joked half heartedly, she turned to you and by the look on her face alone you knew it was bad.

“North 8, Mason and some kid...the kid’s fine but Mason is asking for you.” 

You were out of room and bolting across the ER without waiting for Vi to finish talking. No, no, no, no. Why Mason? What was your little brother doing in Pittsburg and why did he have to be on the interstate with ice out? When you all but slid into the room there were lines everywhere, his left leg was sliced in multiple spots, bone poking out. No,his leg was shattered. He had a bruise covering the entirety of his chest and deep lacerations to his face. 

“Mason??” You ran to his head, he was disoriented but knew you were there, attempting to reach for you, you laid his arm down helping to keep him still. “Talk to me Langdon,” You looked back at Frank who was looking at his leg.

“Lacerations and possible facial fractures, a couple cracked ribs, his hands and arms are okay for the most part but yo-yo is going to have to take him up. I can already tell he’s going to need plates in his leg. The only reason he’s not freaking out is from the morphine.”

“You didn’t give him Ket right?” 

Langdon quirked a brow, you had made sure your brother's medical records were in the system and updated from the day you started at PTMC years ago. “Right,” you sighed, “you have his chart of course you didn’t give him ketamine.” 

Yolanda slid in and started to assess your brother. She wanted a full CT before surgery to get a good look at his face but assured you that she would take the best care of him that she could. You kissed your brother's temple and said a quick prayer over him before he was in Dr. Garcia’s hands. You walked out of the room to find the kid Vi had mentioned. 

“His boyfriend Jasper is in the family room, he’s not hurt but pretty shaken up,” Dana spoke up.

“God I love that you read my mind,” you blew a kiss to Dana before heading into the family room. He was probably in his late teens, only a couple years older than Mason. His clothes were covered in blood and you recognized the shell shocked look on his face. You knocked lightly before walking in and taking a seat next to him.

“Hi Jasper,” Your voice was soft and kind, you placed your hand over his, “Mason is in surgery, but he’s got the best surgeon we have on staff, he's going to be just fine.”

Jasper started to cry, tears free falling from his face, you thought of the mother you’d spoken to only a couple hours ago. You pulled him into a hug, petting his hair softly. “I’m so, so, sorry!”

“Why?” you asked, pulling him up to look you in the eye.

“If he wasn’t with me then this never would’ve happened…his parents found out so he drove into Pittsburg this morning, we were on our way to come see you.” You took a deep breath and brought the boy back into your shoulder. You could imagine the kind of ballistic fight that Mason had gotten into with your father. The funny thing was that they didn’t care if Mason was gay, it was just the fact that he wasn’t with the boy they had picked out. Your parents had planned your lives out since you were born. 

If you followed the plan you would reap the benefits of your family business. If you didn’t, you would be ignored, forgotten. This had happened to you when you decided to come to Pittsburg instead of becoming some royal doctor like your parents had planned.

You thought about your husband. Jack would never be part of their plan, which is why they didn’t know. You and Jack had been together for 6 years and married for 4, but your parents didn’t know. Jack had asked, wanting to meet your father, marry you the proper way: the proper way didn’t matter when he heard how controlling your parents were. Even without COVID regulations your wedding had been small, some of your friends, some of Jack's friends, and the few coworkers the both of you could stand. Mason came after being sworn to secrecy, he walked you down the aisle.

 You hugged Jasper tightly, letting him go to call his parents to come get him but you couldn’t imagine having to have your parents come all the way from Washington to come see Mason. To come see you and Jack. You busied yourself as you waited for Mason to get out of surgery, dreading the thought of calling your parents, Mason's phone was broken in the wreck so you would have to call them yourself. You took a moment to sit with Amelia Nichols as she unplugged her daughter, her husband had been arrested, Amelia was alone. You gave her your number, a support group number, and a tight hug. 

“You should call them honey, before they file a police report,” Dana brought a cup of your favorite tea by your station while you did some charting, you groaned at the fact that she was right. You had no idea how long he had been gone and with his phone not working they would be going ballistic. You walked into the family room and pulled your phone out from your coat pocket. You slowly typed in the numbers, the dread growing in the pit of your stomach. Don’t pick up. Don’t. Pick. Up. Please.

“Hello?”

“Mommy?” Your voice was shaky, your mother sounded worried; tired.

“Oh my god, bunny? Where is Mason? We haven't heard from him. We got in an argument and he flew out of Seattle last night. We don't know where he is!”

“He’s here…in Pittsburg, in surgery. There was a pileup on the interstate...I know you’re probably in Seattle for work but it’s bad Mommy, you both need to come-” and fix this, died on your tongue. Your mother stayed silent, you hung up, you threw your phone against the opposite wall, curling up on the floor in silent, angry tears. You weren’t sure how long you sat there but Melissa King was the one to find you, she gingerly picked up your cracked phone and sat next to you. 

“I know we don’t know each other very well, since we work opposite shifts,” she started, looking at you with honest kindness in her eyes, “but I know you are one of the strongest people here. That means Mason is strong too. We will figure this out, together.” Mel placed her hand on your shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. You wiped the tears from your face and nodded, Vi stood in the door when you got up, Mason was out of surgery.

Hour 20

Mason had definitely seen better days, part of his face and forehead was wrapped from the facial fractures, bruises were blossoming, black and ugly across his ribcage. His left leg had been amputated from his knee down to his foot. You listened intently as Yolanda explained the situation, there was a significant loss of blood and too much soft tissue damage, she’d tried to save his leg but it was too far gone. With a dedicated prosthesis team and a good physical therapist he would be able to get around. You knew he would be fine, with the right prosthetic he could still play sports. If Jack could do everything he did on a prostetic than so could Mason.

“Mason?” you sat at his bed, pushing his curls from his forehead, but he continued to sleep. Garcia said you could take him home once your shift was over…home.

“I clocked you out, and texted Jack since you also broke your phone when you threw it,” Vi rubbed your back, your shoulders slumped. How could this be happening, to your baby brother of all people. “Your mom and dad coming?” You shrugged your shoulders, maybe your mom convinced your dad to come check on his son, maybe he said you could both fuck off. You’d find out soon enough. Vi ended up leaving and Mason woke up soon after. He was still disoriented but you were able to keep him grounded, he tried to ask about your parents but you wouldn’t give him an in. Jack came in around 5:30 to pick up you and Mason, he was still in a considerable amount of pain but Robby was already walking you through home care when Jack came into the room.

“Baby,” Jack pulled you into a tight hug and it took everything in you to not fall apart, Mason was still scared and unsure of his life going forward so you had to stay strong.

“Take us home,” you pleaded, gripping him like a lifeline.

“Yes ma’am.”

-The Abbot Residence 

Your home wasn’t very big, but it was yours. Stonewash grey with white trim, a stone path leading to the front door from the sidewalk and a white picket fence. Jack parked his truck inside the two car garage and helped Mason in. Inside it honestly looked like a slightly modernized 90’s home. You and Jack bought it when you got married and flipped it, the two of you had touched every square inch of the house and made it yours. It was tidy but still a home, medical book, notepads and files were stacked up on the coffee table. A perfectly sized kitchen with an island bar stayed spotless unless you cooked.

The walls were a pale but sunny yellow, dark hardwood floors covered every inch of the house aside from the concrete in the garage and the tile in the bathroom. You threw Mason's duffle bag over your shoulder, grabbed his medicine and walked in yourself. Jack had him propped up in bed in the guest bedroom, which Mason had fully decorated to be his room. You sat on the side explaining what everything was as you sectioned his medication in a pill box, he tried to listen intently buy he was tired.

“Do you need anything baby?”

“Water,” his throat was scratchy from being intubated. You made your trip from the kitchen back to his room fast, opening the water and helping him to drink. After making sure he was comfy you set up a mobile call button so he didn’t have to yell for you.

“You comfy bud?” Jack came in, checking his set up one more time, Mason nodded. You couldn’t help but feel your heart sore watching Jack softly ruffle his hair before placing a kiss to the top of his head. Jack never wanted to be an “old dad” but he had such a way with children, even teenagers. His grumpy war vet facade just seemed to melt around them. Mason fell asleep after getting his night medicine, you tucked him in, kissed his cheek and headed to the kitchen to make a whiteboard chart. Mason had medication at 6- administer more at 2 if needed. Keep close observation-

“I hope this doesn’t mess with our guests that are coming,” You sighed deeply as Jack wrapped his arms around your waist, you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“It won’t,” He peppered your neck in kisses, softly squeezing your sides to relax you, “promise.”

You basked in the silence and the warmth, your sanctuary. You could feel Jack's heartbeat against you, strong and steady like his arms that wrapped protectively around your waist.  You turned into him, your head instinctively finding comfort between his collar bones, he smiled, petting your hair softly.

“Can’t you just stay?” You mumbled into the cotton of his t-shirt, engulfing your senses with his cologne. Jack had never really been a cologne guy, you bought him a bottle your first Christmas dating and he’d been wearing it ever since. 

“Don’t make me regret leaving,” he groaned, capturing your lips in a kiss, you pushed up on your toes trying to capture every inch of him. After the shift you’d just had, and everything with mason, you needed all of him. Your hands slid up his shirt, exploring the canvas of his bare torso. Jack was quite muscular, you found a scar on his ribcage and traced it lightly, you didn’t realize he had led you to the bedroom until you knocked back into a crate. 

“Jer, have you been sleeping this whole time?” You gazed down at the sleeping dog. Her tail wagged excitedly at the sound of your voice. Mom was home!!

“Yeah we went for a run right before Vi called so she’s pretty beat,” Jack grinned, a boyish light coming to his eye. You wanted to scold him for running in the snow and the dangers of it, but he knew the dangers. You pulled Jack in for a few more kisses before he convinced you to take a shower. “I love you no matter what but you smell like the hospital my love.” He cackled like a hyena as a shoe was thrown in his direction, with another kiss goodbye he headed to work.

You let the hot water roll over your body, washing away the day from your skin. Jack had left a lavender shower bomb by the drain, the smell engulfing your nostrils and breaking the tension that had anchored in your chest. After some much needed time alone, you stepped out from the warm confines of the shower. One of Jack's NAVY shirts (your favorite one because it was long enough to cover your butt) and a pair of shorts were already waiting by your towel. God you loved that man. Jerico scratched at Mason’s door, annoyed that her favorite person was being kept away. You knelt down and gently held her face, whispering that Mason needed soft love. Jerico was a retired search and rescue dog so you knew she understood exactly what you were saying. You slowly cracked the door open, Mason was awake but quiet. 

“Hey,” you kept your tone soft as you crawled into bed next to him, “need anything?”

“Mmm, just you. Mom and dad are coming. I'm scared.” You could feel your heart break for Mason, he wasn’t scared of your parents as people but scared of not having their approval. To them; approval was love. You wrapped Mason in your unconditional love, humming lullabies until he fell asleep.

An angry fist rapping against your front door and Jerico’s defensive bark ripped you from sleep, your arm was sore from being wrapped around Mason, you pulled away slowly so as to not wake him before rotating the soreness out. Who would be knocking on your door at 6am?

You groaned, pulling yourself from the comfy bed and the warmth you had in your brother, before trudging across the cold house.

“Can I help you?” You asked, fervently rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The outside cold slipped past your bare legs, causing shivers to ripple through you. Jerico stood between your legs, sniffing at the people standing before you. A low growl slipped past her. Man bad. 

“We’re here for Mason,” that cold shiver took on a different feeling, you pulled your hands away to see your mother and father standing in the doorway. Your father wore his usual scowl, unhappy as always, your mother stood beside him. No, she was hiding behind him, a bitter taste grew in your mouth seeing her be cowardese to your father.

 “Um. Yeah, he’s asleep but come in.” You stepped to the side, Jerico backing up with you but never leaving her place. You watched as your parents seemed to examine your house with scrutiny. Sure it wasn’t the three story house with lavish decor you’d grown up in but it was yours. Yours and Jacks. You mumbled to your father that you needed to change, watching his eyes drag up and down your frame in disapproval. You knew when the roles reversed you would stand tall for Mason but you cursed to yourself for shrinking to him. You’d broken your work phone but picked up your house phone from beside your bed.

Mom and dad are here, I’m handling it. Might be in a bad mood when you get in :(

You hated sending that text as you changed into warmer clothes but it was better for Jack to be prepared. When you walked out of your room, your parents were still standing awkwardly in the entrance hall, your mother holding a picture from your wedding. You ignored them and walked to the kitchen, the open floor plan allowing you to keep an eye on them. 

“Are you hungry? I can make some coffee,” you turned your head in their direction as you pulled fruit and ingredients for breakfast from the fridge.

You are strong, you are loved, you are safe in this home -J 

Seeing the note on the fridge almost made you cry, you smiled softly as you got back to preparing breakfast.

“Who is this?” Your mother's tone made you jump slightly.

“My husband.” You answered as plainly as you could, carefully chopping fruit, your shaky hands didn’t help. Your parents eyes grew wide, they were standing at the kitchen island in a moment, your house wasn’t big but it felt like they’d charged at you. 

Seeing the reminder of one of the best days of your life made the horror melt at the edges. Your dress wasn’t fancy, a plain white flowy dress. Jack wore a navy suit, your eyes both gleaming as you were showing off your rings to the photographer. You frowned at the way your father white knuckled the picture and plucked it from his grasp.

“His name is Jack. He loves me very much, I would suggest watching your usual comments around him, he’s not a big fan of….bullies.” Looking at the pure devotion on your husband's face the day you got married gave you confidence. 

“He’s old enough to be your father, bunny.” your mother quietly remarked.

“You could do better than this cariño, we raised you to do better,” your fathers voice was cold as he gestured to your home. A fire started to burn in your chest and it was angry. How dare your father walk into your life and assume he could have control after 6 years. Six years of regaining your life, six years of being yourself, making your own way. Making your way with Jack Abbot being there every step.

Your parents hadn’t given him an easy task, but he was slow and methodical as he’d broken down your walls, finding a beautiful woman who had been freed. And sure Jack had seen you set back plenty of times, when your mother would come out in you, or when your fathers words would burn your tongue as they escaped your lips. But he never left, he’d been determined to make you his, the only life you’d have was the one where he showered you in the praise and love you deserved. Your eyes were locked on your fathers when Jerico bolted to the guest bedroom, a groan coming from the space. 

“I’m going to check on Mason. He needs his medicine.” You left your father at your kitchen island with his mouth agape, your mother following close behind you. When you entered the bedroom she fell at Mason's side crying in his arms.

“Mason I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry. Your father didn’t mean it,” she petted his hair as she spoke, trying to ground herself. “we will figure it out, just come home please baby.” 

Tears welled in Mason's eyes but he stayed quiet, looking to you for direction. Your ears pricked at the sound of arguing in the kitchen but you decided this was more important.

Moving to the bed you pulled your mother up from the floor.

“Love is all we want. To be loved for being ourselves, choosing our own path.” You held your mothers hands tightly, you’d tried to have this conversation with her before coming to Pittsburg but she had been so absorbed in her plan she wouldn’t listen. Now, with her son injured as a result she had no choice. 

“I want to be a part of the family on my own terms. My plan.” Mason finally spoke, your mother nodded her head furiously as she held him tightly. You left some pills and a water bottle by Mason’s bed before interrogating the arguing in the kitchen.

The tension was palpable. Jack stood at the kitchen island, white knuckling the counter top. Your father sat across from him, arms crossed with a smug look on his face. Oh god, Jack was gonna kill him.

“Jack, you’re home,” You walked swiftly to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. He looked drained, mentally and emotionally. Your phone had been quietly buzzing on the counter, warning of Jack's incoming state. And instead of his lovely wife he was greeted by her father. Who hated Jack simply for loving her. 

“How’s Mason?” He sighed, practically melting into your touch. It was at this moment you’d realized your father didn’t even ask how his son was.

“He’s a tough kid just like I raised him to be,” you answered lightly, carefully watching the anger come back in your fathers eyes. “Yo-yo already sent me a number for a few prosthetics teams, and I emailed the place you got yours. The VA typically doesn't do civillians but he said he owed you a favor, so as long as he’s done growing we can start that process soon.” Jack nodded, keeping his eyes trained on your father.

“Why does he need prosthetics? What are you talking about?”

“Oh. I’d almost forgotten you hadn’t bothered to ask about him,” your words cut deep, the anger finally coming out in you. “Mason had to have part of his leg amputated. The damage from the wreck was too severe.” 

You watched as a sea of emotions played on your fathers face, anger, sadness, maybe even a little spite? He took a deep breath before hitting you with the final blow of his trip.

“Then I guess you and your….husband can keep him. I have no use for another child who will amount to nothing.”

Jack's hands were on his throat before either of you could react, sending the bar stool he was sitting on flying. Your brain went fuzzy at the words, that was all the confirmation you needed that your parents would be leaving but Mason would not. Your whole body tingled with the sensation, not realizing Jack was beating your father till Mason was yelling.

“Yeah get his ass J!!”

“Mason!” Your mother shrieked pulling him back into the guest room. He was wobbily considering the half missing limb. You looked to Jack who had certainly laid a few blows to your fathers face. All it took for him to stop was your fingertips grazing his shoulder.

“You will get out of our home, without your son and your wife,” Jack spoke lowly, a growl rumbling in his throat. “And if I ever hear you talk to or about my wife the way you have today, I will make you wish you were mute.” Jack and your father were on their feet, your father screaming incessantly about how Jack would be hearing from his lawyer. “Call your fuckin lawyers I don’t give a damn. But know you just lost everything good thing you have and you don’t even realize it!” Jack slammed the front door and locked it. You wrapped your arms around him, keeping your body flush to his back.

“Thank you.”

“Baby,” Jack turned around so you were looking at him, the anger that had sat in his eyes replaced with soft love. “I will always defend you from assholes who don’t deserve you.”

You hated to admit that seeing him be defensive, going into soldier mode, it lit a different fire in you. You swiftly walked to the guest room and announced that your father was gone and you’d start to print the divorce papers for your mother. She seemed frightened about what your father would do but you weren’t afraid of anything when you knew your husband had your back all the way. 

Your breakfast ingredients had been abandoned on the kitchen counter, your mother decided to go pick up breakfast and Mason turned on the TV in his room, needing something to escape the chaos that had just happened.

“We have 30 minutes.” You announced as you followed Jack into your room, locking the door behind you. Jack sat at the foot of the bed, removing his prosthetic, being on it consistenly bothered him. For a second you thought about Mason before pushing it aside.

“Are you caging me in Mrs. Abbot?” Jack asked, amusement plastered on his face. 

“All I’m saying is you had a shitty night and had to have a shitty morning, consisting of throwing my father out of our house…I want to make it up to you,” 

The running water of the hot shower masked the abhorrent sounds escaping your lips. Lips and teeth and tongue were in a battle for control. Jack had you flush against the shower wall, using both you and the wall to balance himself.

“M’ sorry about my dad,” you managed through kisses. Jack pulled away, holding your face as his hazel eyes bore into you. God, why did he have to be so captivating? 

“We’re not doing that. I have to admit your parents were the guests that were coming,” he sighed, the creases in his forehead deepening, “I wanted to understand. See it for myself, I should’ve never brought them into our home.”

He waited for you to yell, to leave the shower and berate him, so your deep kisses came as a surprise. Part of you wanted to scream and yell, but the other part of you just couldn’t be mad that he wanted to love you that much more. 

“I love you.”

Jack picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him tightly. Your His muscles rippled beneath your legs as you held each other like a lifeline. He faltered slightly, gripping you with one hand and pushing the other against the wall. He peppered kisses from your collar bone down to the dip in your breasts, singing praises to you as he did. Jack was going to take his time. He was tired, so fucking tired, but you gave him life. He could sleep the day away with you in his arms, but right now, you both needed this. Your hands roamed his back, leaving nail marks in their wake, he was all yours and you were never afraid to claim him. You needed more.

“Jack..” you whined. His eyes shot up from your breasts, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. He placed you on a small shelf that stuck out about waist level. ‘Work smarter not harder’ he’d said as you’d watched him install it years ago. ‘Getting old, don’t wanna have to hold you up the whole time.’ You knew he also used it as a support for his leg, but the thought of him wanting to fuck you that much in the shower made it increasingly better.

You watched as he lowered himself to your sweet spot, small bated breaths escaped your lips. Your hands flew into his silver curls. He started agonizingly slow, feeling every inch of you he could take in his mouth, you yelped as you bucked into his face, his nose hitting your sweet spot. The laugh that drummed against you helped absolutely nothing, only taking you higher.

Your thoughts were hazy but you knew one thing, you would never be good enough for him. You often wondered why he caved, why he let you of all people in. But you would make sure to get on your knees and thank god for him every single day.  “So sweet, so loving, so perfect,” he came back up, capturing you in another kiss. “And all mine. No one else gets you but me,” that boyish grin made an appearance again, sending you reeling as you all but jumped back onto him. You took a moment to really look at him, freckled skin that was often tense now relaxed as he stood before you. He was covered in scars, some white and almost faded, some newer- still red with anger. You traced a scar on his chest, it sat perfectly between his pecs. You remembered that day, he’d been attacked by a vet that came in. He didn’t mean to hurt Jack, he’d been triggered into an episode and attacked on instinct. You almost cried patching him up, the first realization you could lose him, but he reminded you that he was tough. And he would always come home to you.

You slipped off of your perch and switched places with Jack so he could lean on it as you began placing soft, gentle kisses on all his scars. “You're so brave, and strong,” you spoke lowly, sinking to your knees as you kissed the insides of his legs. Jack only hummed, his eyes had fluttered closed as he had taken part of your hair in his hands. “You deserve everything.” You said as you took his length in your hands, stroking it slowly. Jack leaned back, white knuckling the tile to ground himself. 

“Fuck me.” He grunted through gritt teeth.

“I’m trying,” that response got a laugh, his eyes opened as he smiled down at you. You rose moved him again so you could perch yourself on the seat, taking his length with you. Sex with Jack was always like the very first time, it never got old. You lined him up to take you, your eyes were locked in each other, his breath as shallow as he watched you. His gaze was calculated, the gears turning slowly as he panted. You scooched to the edge, trying to stay as close to him as possible.

“Take me.” 

“Y-yes ma’am,” Jack grabbed the fat of your hips to hold you in place before letting himself in. You didn’t think you would ever adjust to how big he was, the heat in your stomach was building, ready to tip over. Jack's head fell into your shoulder as he found his pace, going faster than he had with his tongue but not fast enough to hurt you. Your bodies had become one as the hot water started to run cold, but you didn’t care. Jack panted in your ear, you pressed deep hungry kisses into his freckled shoulder.

“Gonna,”

“Uh huh me too,” 

Jack reached a hand from the small of your back and used his fingers to tease you even more, you bit into his shoulder trying to suppress the moan that escaped your throat. Your hands were tangled in his hair, at the top and at the nape of his neck. You pulled his hair just enough to get a reaction, he nipped at your neck. With a few bucks of your hips, you were spent, Jack held your hips incredibly still. He wanted to make sure you could feel all of him as your walls tightened one last time. Jack cleaned you off before turning the shower off, wrapping the two of you in a towel and staggering to bed.

“I’m home,” your mother called as she opened the door. The smell of French toast making your stomach growl.

“Nice timing Doctor Abbot, truly impeccable,” Jack teased, pressing a kiss into your neck. You giggled and kissed him back. 

“Coming mom!” You hollered back as you threw on whatever warm clothes you could find. “Sleep my love, I’ll be back later,” you laid Jack down in the bed, having to fight him off of you as his fingers fiddled with the band of your sweatpants, your laughter echoed through the room and straight to his heart.

“Love you,”

“Love you too,”

Sure your life hadn’t been perfect, your family was in for a ride, but you were together. And more importantly you had Jack Abbot, who would do anything to protect and keep you. After all, he took till death do us part to the very depths of his soul. He never broke his promises. 

Edit: I FUCKING KNEW HE WAS GONNA HAVE A PROSTHETIC- felt deeply inclined to adjust after seeing that.

taglist: @ebodebo @sceletaflores @yuenity @kchronicallyonline

[the-barefoot-hatter]

me, looking up birch tree facts for to make sure a single sentence is correct in my billford fic: oh, i WAS right about that! yay!

but now i have extra facts and nowhere to put them...

so, Tree Facts be upon you!

Ironically, beating something with a birch branch is meant to drive out evil

Birches are also associated with death, fairies, adaptability, and returning from the dead

Birches are one of the first trees to repopulate in fire damaged areas! In a weird twist, though, it's NOT because they are fire-resistant. Birches burn very well actually, they are a popular campfire wood choice!

Birches burn fast at a medium to high heat, with no heavy smoke or sparks. In fact, they can burn BLUE

Pines ARE resistant to burning!

Birches and pines grow well in stands together

Birches and pines might even share sugars through interconnected mycorrhizae in their root systems, supporting each other

Birch bark is waterproof. Makes for great paper.

A large number of lepidopteran insects feed on birch foliage. (Lepidopterans of course include butterflies and moths)

Birches live 140-250 years on average, while pine trees live 100-1000 years. The oldest living organism in the world is Methuselah the Great Basin bristlecone pine- it’s over 4,850 years old

[stevebabey]

you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until—there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.

[namisweatheria]

I feel like we don't discuss Nami's relationship with gender enough. Her entire character is so deeply informed by being a girl in a male-dominated pirate world and it's so interesting and so worth talking about.

The background creepiness of Bad pirate crews, which are most of them, how they tend to not have any female crew members at all, how they beckon any pretty young woman around to come play with them and join them. It's real bad. It's also like, a totally 2 dimensional portrayal of evil that is reserved for the most background of background characters.

However I think their ubiquity says a lot about how piracy is meant to be perceived by the public in One Piece, and is one of the strongest indicators of how prevalent misogyny is in-world.

It's very normal in One Piece for regular island inhabitants to have never met a Different class of pirate in their life. There's no reason for them to withhold judgement that maybe these pirates won't be like every crew that attacked before, and to wait and judge them by their actions. I mean frankly that would be irrationally weak self-preservation.

There are people who live peacefully under the flags of Yonkos who protect them, and feel loyalty and gratitude to them for it, but that seems to only be thing with very big name pirates. The East Blue, being the weakest and least populated, has no such plethora of powerful people and resulting turf wars.

So. Nami. Is very clearly implied to have never met any Different pirates before. I'm thinking about what that means. About how every group of pirates she stole from were creepy, dangerous men. How she started going out stealing when she was still a young child. How she didn't have a mother anymore to guide her or comfort her. How Arlong would grab her chin inappropriately, talk about her as a "human female", as property, and god knows what else.

How all the men in Arlong's crew treated her patronizingly, pretending they're all friends, teasing her and playing at respect when really not a single one of them ever stuck up for her or hesitated to accuse her of betrayal. Who were always ready to kill her if she refused to cooperate. Who grabbed her and intimidated her when they felt like it.

That's what she had to come back to after a close call with stealing from other predatory men, instead of the relief of home there was a dark, cramped room filled with endless hours of misery and isolation and blood. Where any one of her captors could barge in and demand new maps, work faster, where did you go, you took too long again this time. Endless threats and incursions.

I'm thinking about that her fight scene in Alabasta, where she tumbles and rips off her cape and uses it to catch her enemy's spikes, before leaping to her feet and running out the back door, all in one moment. How it makes her enemy reconsider her and think, "so the girl's not a total novice at fighting after all." What that implies about her experiences as a young thief. The times she wasn't fast or clever enough and had to fight and claw her way out. Why she always carried a staff and a knife. Why she was the only one before Chopper who had any medical knowledge or experience.

You know she was stitching herself up. And the weapons, how do you think she learned to use those? If any of the Arlong Pirates helped her it wasn't out of kindness and it wasn't gentle.

Then I think about Nojiko, and Bellemere's memory, and the only softness in a hard life. How easily Nami connects to every young woman experiencing hardship that she meets. How completely she dismisses the struggles of men unless they mean something to her and are going through something terrible. The way that Nami only has sympathy for women and children is easily noticeable in-text, but it's also something confirmed in those words by the author. And it's clearly because of the life she lived, the men who had all the power and only abused it, who saw her as nothing but a girl to take advantage of, without anyone aside from her sister clearly knowing and caring about any of it.

Nami clearly isn't bitter, she doesn't think the world owes her recompense, on the contrary she knows she is far from the only person in the world to suffer the things she has suffered. She is endlessly reaching out and kind, but only to those that she isn't sure would get help without her. Certainly, before Luffy, Usopp, and Zoro, no man ever reached out a hand to her without an ulterior motive.

I think when she sees a girl in trouble, a girl biting her lip to hold in a scream of grief, a girl running in the woods away from a monster, a girl captured by pirates, she sees someone who no one is coming for. Who no one will stick up for. A person without allies in a world against her. Whether it's actually true in this case or not, she runs straight for that girl anyways every single time.

[sophietheghost]

I could feel how lonely you trurly are

[angelkiyo]

you had intentions of finding true love here; that was its pitch line after all. you met a nice guy, his name being kento. he was 28, a salaryman, and worked in the city. life would be stable and serene.

however, when the bombshell came, you couldn’t help but simply feel drawn to toji fushiguro. it was like a tropical storm hit you.

he was the oldest one in the villa, definitely older than you by a decade or so. he was 36 and a dad but he sure as hell didn’t look it. he worked out every day, worked in private security, and his body appeared to be sculpted from a renaissance artist; the cliché tattoos of snakes and such were etched on his sun-kissed skin.

you felt his eyes on you the entire time and you stare at him. you could only wish you hadn’t.

“damn, he’s such a dilf,” your fellow housemate commented.

you remember laughing at her words, “no, he’s just fucking old.”

for some time, the tension between the two of you felt grand, despite your thing with kento. winning challenges together didn't help either and the fact that he let it slip that he wasn't looking to mess around yet stared at you like you were a meal amplified that.

however, it isn't until one of the girls got a text where it showed that others saw your tension too:

🔔 “islanders, the hideaway is open tonight. the couple chosen by the public to spend the night is...y/n and toji. #SheLikesItRoughApparently.”

you felt the rest of the house go into chaos, with some people catcalling, laughing, and screaming in glee.

your gaze went over to toji: smirking like he just won the damn lottery, and then over to kento, whose expression looked rather solemn.

"comin' or nah, princess?" and while you meekly walked over to him, you heard someone yell out "use protection!"

yeah, you had plenty of that at the hideaway.

it was big and mirrored a suite from a five-star hotel. the room had a king-sized bed littered with rose petals and candles. not to mention the mirrors everywhere and the big box of condoms in the drawer of the nightstand.

the silence captivated the both of you until you spoke: "you're awfully comfortable for someone who didn't want anything with other people, old man."

he turned around at you, his gaze almost predatory. "let me clarify. i never pretended i didn't want you."

"i'll show you what this old man can do, sweetheart.”

fuck.

what happened next was a blur, but what you do know was the quick whirlwind of clothes on the floor, you being pushed onto the lavish bed, and the lack of care for hidden cameras. you just didn't care anymore, and that was the mindset that engulfed the two of you for nearly an hour.

the sound of skin slapping filled the room while you clawed at the silky satin sheets beneath you. you had tears brim under your eyes as you felt toji's calloused arms hold you in place in front of the myriad of mirrors in front of you.

you couldn't fucking take it anymore. the way he rolled his hips and thrusted into you with such incredible speed knocked the wind out of you.

"ah—fuck!" you mewled, arching your back as much as you can. toji hit all your sweet spots without trying and the fact alone irked you. it irked you that he had a reason to be so cocky and relentless.

the sensation of his cock made your eyes roll: filling, fast, and sure as fuck rough.

"goddamnit ma. your pussy is milking me dry," he let out a guttural moan as he bottomed out in you, "fuck, doll-face. letting me fuck you so good."

the wolfish grin on his face stayed there on his face as he examined the mirror and how your ass moved while he thrusted into you with finesse. the way the skin where your back tattoo was, moved drove him crazy. however, the little milky white ring where he thrusted into you and the sound of your slick and moans drove him crazier.

“think your prissy little salaryman can fuck you like this? hm?” he maneuvered your hips like you were a doll and kept his pace.

toji could give two shits about the damn cameras, because all he wanted at this moment was you.

and proving that he isn’t old.

[captainswan618]

there is a person standing 73 yards some distance away, watching you. they look like they’re trying to tell you something. you can’t get away from them, nor can you get close to them. they’re just...standing there.

so your friends and loved ones try to help you by talking to them, and the person must be saying something to them, because they look at you differently now. but you have no idea what it was, all you hear is static.

you try to tell them not to listen to the person, but no matter what you do, no matter how much you plead with them, they look up at you with suspicion-hatred-fear and just run. they don’t care where they’re going, just that you’re not there. and you can’t do anything to stop it.

the more that the people in your life care about you, the worse it is, because anyone who tries to help is turned against you. so you are just gradually shut out of your own life by the people you love the most, until eventually you no longer recognize your surroundings.

there is a person standing 73 yards some distance away, watching you.

[bluerosefox]

Waiting... Waiting...

So... This was inspired by listening to EPIC (FREAKING LOVE ALL THE ALBUMS, SO GOOD) and by @noxcheshire post of Tim being Odysseus reincarnated and Danny (maybe also reincarnated) being his Penelope (Here) so I had to turn it into a Dead Tired idea.

The song The Challenge is the main one here. (Cause I LOVE that song... along with Would You Fall In Love With Me Again)

So WHAT IF Danny IS the reincarnated Penelope, after becoming the Ghost King Danny's memories of his past life as Penelope returns and remembers how before dying/ or being reincarnated both Penelope and Odysseus promised to find each other in their new lives, no matter who they are, what new form they take, they will find each other.

So Danny/Penelope, just like before waits for their Odysseus to return to them, but also tries to find him in their new life (CW is laughing whenever Danny asks for hints and gets a 'In due time, just wait' answer, ugh Danny wants to smack CW for that)

However just like in his previous life with being in a high position of power, Danny is being pressured to marry/take a spouse (now its not just men/males though so its a huge headache, I head canon Ghosts don't care much for gender preference) mostly by the dang eyeballs that Danny is still trying to find a way to get rid of without upsetting the Infinite Realms delicate (but slowly healing) balance even if Danny wanted nothing more than to punch all of the suitors out.

So Danny decides to play the long game again.

And waits for their Odysseus return.

Danny's wait is over when they suddenly feel the Realms shift one day, as if welcoming someone familiar home, and the same feeling Danny had when he had been Penelope and saw the storm that was sign of Odysseus coming home, Danny decides its time to bring out The Challenge once again. (CW gifted Danny a few things from his past as Penelope as a coronation gift, like Odysseus's bow (now enchanted to be unbreakable), a painting of when he was Penelope, with Telemchus, and Odysseus, and the Marriage Bed/Olive Tree, AND the Palace Odysseus made that Danny takes to being in over being at Pariah's Keep)

-x-x-

Meanwhile

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin, always had strange dreams as a child.

War, Death, Monsters, Gods, Goddesses.

His dreams were more like nightmares, haunting him and he sometimes woke up in cold sweat.

He hated storms. Hated being in the water for to long. Hated how he felt both tense but also at home when around Greek heroes, as if he was afraid to 'disrespect' them (Cassie was the only one he didn't feel that way around, mostly cause they had been somewhat friends before their heroing since their parents knew each other) but also knew how to appease them should he insult them. He also had a strange hatred for the CoO with a burning passion because he felt like they were mocking real Owls.

The worst part of nightmares that always pop up are of what feels like should be his home is being invaded by unwanted guests (they aren't guests), how they are angry over trying to string a bow and shot an arrow through axes, of the terrible terrible things he hear them saying they were going to do to his loved ones (two names that keep getting muted out).

How it ends in bloodshed with echoing of begging, pleading, mercy, and screams.

However in those nightmares at the end. He also finds himself looking for something in them.

Or rather he always found someone waiting for him at the end of the nightmares. Calling him by the wrong name but it sounds just right coming from them.

The dream always ends with the person asking 'How long has it been?' and before he can answer he wakes up.

So yeah Tim has horrifying nightmares/dreams he could never explain.

And the urge to find someone. To go home to them.

It isn't until he and his friends from Young Justice are hit by a spell from Klarion (who may or may not had a visit from a certain chaos encouraging Time Keeper) and sent to a place called the Infinite Realms in the middle of their fight, that Tim is hit hard with déjà vu when he spots a certain Palace in the distance and overhears some of the 'people?' (they glow and float and some don't even look human?! where are they?) talk about how the 'King' has issued a new 'Challenge' for his 'suitors'.

A Challenge involving a bow, and axes.

And Tim, feels like he knows this all too well and needs to do it.

[sweetieviktor]

jealous! viktor x reader (headcanons + tiny scenarios)

summary: viktor sees you talking with a friend and get jealous.

content warning: idk if it counts as a cw but jealousy?? also, i made with s1 viktor in mind!

author notes: heyyy, so sorry this one is little, im still trying to find motivation after the end of the series but i think it turned out cute! thank u for the request and hope u like it!! :)

» it was a common sight to see you walking up and down piltover’s academy, working or just chilling on lunch breaks, but every time viktor would approach you, you were already with someone. sometimes an unknown person, other times with a friend, laughing and joking, touching them in such a sweet way, side by side in the aisles.

» he looked at you both, blood boiling and shaky hands. if you looked at him, it was possible to see his lips forming a thin line, brows furrowing, his left eye almost twitching. oh, he was jealous.

» he felt angry at himself to feel like this, he didn't mean to be jealous at all, but he wanted to steal you away, just for a second, and be the one by your side, be the one you smiled to, the one you’ve been touching so sweetly.

» he wanted to reach for you, to interrupt your silly conversation about whatever you two have been talking about, he wanted to share his new discoveries with you, he wanted to be in their place so bad.

» but he couldn't complain, not when you waved a goodbye at your friend, and turned your body, recognizing viktor, eyes lighting up immediately, smiling from ear to ear.

“viktor!”, you shouted, voice echoing in the aisle while you walked to him, “i’ve been looking for you all day. you wouldn't believe what happened!”

he looked at you, expression softening, eyes shining, mimicking yours, his thin lips now turning into a little smile, “yeah? tell me."

» soon all the jealousy melted away, now, he is the one walking by your side.

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

also another reason I don't like the take of Cassian being a messenger is that. I just can't help but feel like after they already replaced his previously established backstory with Jyn's almost beat for beat, they're now also thematically superimposing Andor!Cassian over yet another unfairly overlooked Rogue One character:

Get your mitts off my boy, Gilroy! Do not take one of the most poignant acts of bravery on Star Wars and recycle it for the laziest chosen one story of the last decade. What is this. Why are we turning Cassian into the 3-in-1 shampoo of Rogue One characters.

[mediumgayitalian]

On the tail end of Nico di Angelo's eleventh month of observing Will Solace, he notices what he classifies as a 'significant change'.

"Will's had his hair up for a good couple days," he comments, as passively and casually as he can manage. Cecil Markowitz immediately sidesteps Nico's half-hearted lunge and pushes both their swords to the floor, plopping down next to them, falling for nothing.

"It's hot," he points out. Which is a ridiculously logical conclusion for someone who once genuinely believed bees were mammals. Nico scowls.

"It's odd."

"Whatever you say, Professor."

The disarming now makes sense, and infuriatingly Nico's attempt to skewer his friend is unsuccessful. He cackles, sommersaulting away.

"Do not call me that!"

"Professor, Professor," taunts Cecil, running backwards, "decorated doctorate in Willology --"

He does not expect the knife Nico has in his boot, and his subsequent pained shriek is deeply, darkly gratifying. Nico leaves him to writhe in agony for a few minutes before hauling him upright, slapping a hand on his shoulder to stop the bleeding, and dragging him out of the amphitheater.

"Butchering!" Cecil hollers, digging in his heels. "Bloodshed! Gehenna! Fratricide!"

"I'm gonna butcher the other side," Nico promises.

This does not sway the man in any capacity.

"Foul play! Maiming! The wicked fate of Caesar Augustus --"

"Alright then."

He squeezes just lightly and Cecil crumples, wheezing, scrabbling at Nico's hand and mouthing the word evil at him incessantly. For good measure, he does the three-claw ward off, because he is an asshole, and Nico would feel guilty if it weren't for the slightest smirk below the agony and the fact that Cecil once crushed his own legs under collapsed marble to avoid stable cleaning duty.

"Are you done," Nico says, tapping his foot.

"One more round." Cecil inhales. "Slaughterer! Destructor! Slayer of men!"

"I could get behind Slayer of Men."

"Of course you could, gay ass."

It is funny and Nico is mad that it is funny, so he refuses to laugh, but Cecil hears it anyway and snickers victoriously and mutters masters degree in counting Will's freckles under his breath intentionally loudly enough that Nico can hear it. Nico reminds himself to kill him at a later date when he is not awake to complain about it. He shoves him through the infirmary doors via swift kick in the ass and takes a minute to himself just out the entryway, fanning his face and breathing deep breaths until the heat on his cheeks has faded. He shakes out his hand, pushes his shoulders back, and swaggers into the infirmary, sword at his side, doing his best to communicate to any and all onlookers that he is to be equally as revered as feared. He also makes sure his hair looks okay.

Just for -- fear factor, obviously. Very important for the Prince of Hell to look put together when he drags souls from bodies.

"Good afternoon, Gerard Way. I see you've gotten some illegal maiming in this fine afternoon."

"Seemed like the day for it," Nico agrees. "And how are you, Kayla?"

She sighs. "I hate being stand-in head medic. Will should go on strike."

Nico frowns.

"He's not -- here?"

Now for someone with a reputation as a rule-following goody-two-shoes, Will plays a whole lot of hooky. He's good at it, too. The dryads are on his side.

But never in the summer.

"He's not feeling well," Kayla says shortly. She grabs a stitching kit and nudges Cecil onto a cot with her disgusting, duct-taped Converse, ignoring his whining about manhandling and doesn't she have any respect for her elders. She rips off his mangled sleeve without so much as an eyetwitch and gets right into it, unflinching at the mess of muscle and flesh. Nico and his suddenly queasy stomach face the wall.

"I thought you guys didn't get sick."

"Will does," Cecil says between wincing. "And not just the headaches." He stares at his own gaping flesh wound with interest, because he's a weirdo. "He got chicken pox, once, when we were kids. That's why people call him Spots, although it's been so long some people think it's the freckles."

"...Oh."

"Anyways, it's good that he's not working." Kayla threads the last stitch and pats blindly around with bloody hands until Nico pities her and hands her scissors. "He's been in here too much lately and it's good to see him sleeping."

"Aw, that's sweet."

"Cecil, you ever wonder why you get stabbed so often?"

"Never crossed my mind, no."

"Interesting, that."

To save his dumbass friend from another maiming, and not at all because he is disappointed by the Will-less infirmary, Nico walks over and grips the fool from the back of his shirt, pulling him to the door and away from Kayla’s twitching eye. (Head medic truly is a job for children of Apollo who did not inherit his impatience.)

"Well," he says, and nothing else. Kayla raises a knowing eyebrow. "Bye."

"Don't bother him," she calls, as they make an exit at normal speed. "I am not as nice as he is! Medical malpractice is my favorite hobby!"

Nico smacks Cecil in the side of his head before he and his big mouth get any ideas.

It does not deter the commentary. Nico vows, by the third mention of the Solace Syllabus, to be present and prejudiced at his judgment day.

-- -- --

next

[diospore]

I'm just saying if you're writing smut featuring trans people and you find yourself ONLY writing pre-op transmen as receiving penetration. ONLY writing your transmen as submissive.

You should really take a step back and think about why this is.

Also consider including trans people who have gotten bottom surgery. I'd like to see more of that. Or transmen using straps. That'd be cool too thanks.