i don't know which interpretation is more heartbreaking: the idea that Poseidon shows up when Sally sacrifices the leftover milkshake (even though is not a "sacrifice" per say) because he's just looking for an excuse to go to her OR the very act of Sally calling him being the sacrifice because seeing him and being reminded of him is so painful
💭: minho talking to his cats; them meowing and him just being like "hmm?" like they're going on about something and he's totally invested in the story, makes me think of the extremely inappropriate counterpart of that being when he's fucking you dumb you can't form any coherent words, only messy blabbers and he's just looking down at you with the most loving eyes like "hmm i know baby, feels good, yeah?" & all you can do is stare back at him, lips apart as your body trembles.
Eddie Munson x gn reader (implied femme in others)
Blurb turned 3pt series, reader is struggling with their feelings for their best friend
Angst, pity party, pining on steriods, fluff in the other parts
You don't know why you did this. You didn't know why you willingly subjected yourself to this level of torture, more nights than were socially acceptable, ignoring your own boundaries, complete lack of respect for your feelings. There you were, yet again, in his bed for the millionth time. It was a safe space, a shared space for you two that went back to when you were in elementary school, just best buds cut from the same cloth, dealing with shit no kids should have to deal with.
The remaining innocence of youth had maintained its hold on you and Eddie, or at least it had for you. You had never dated, never had anybody express interest, and if they had, you would've been clueless or refused to recognize it for what it actually was. It didn't bother you, truthfully. How could I know what I'm missing if I've never had it? you would reason with yourself. Your relationship with Eddie was special, treasured, coveted, deeply rooted, but the potential for its immense fragility was enough to keep your truest feelings choked down.
Off limits.
But you knew what you were missing. You saw the (mostly star-crossed) displays of high school love five out of seven days a week. The looks in their eyes, contentment on their faces, the intimacy of their touches, the openess of it all. It didn't help that Eddie had always been a physically expressive person with no sense of personal space. You tried so hard to suppress your feelings, refusing yourself the sweet luxury of reacting to him, but eventually it would fester enough in you to make the ache in your chest grow to be too much, and you'd find yourself having to give into the sting in your eyes and the excruciating lump in your throat and let it all out at the end of the day in whatever privacy you could find, only to go to his place or him come to yours later on and have him so close yet again.
More nights than you probably should, you'd find yourself in the same position: slightly fetal on your right side, gazing over the expanse of the bed toward a sleeping Eddie. If he only knew how you would brush your thumb across the underside of your forearm as you lay there, wondering how his callused fingertips would feel if he touched you like that. Or how you would let your thoughts wander to a world where all defenses were dropped and the act was ditched. He was right there, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. You had to ball your fists up and squeeze them to keep from reaching over and brushing his hair from his face or caressing his hand when it stuck out from under his pillow, from touching his lips. Your confessions bubbled in your throat, stinging your tongue, threatening to spill out in the softest of whispers, but you wouldn't dare. You couldn't. You wondered if he ever noticed the watermarks on your the pillow, the innocuous evidence of the ribbons of tears that had been siphoned from the corner of your eye as you lay there, the one place that gave you the greatest comfort but the most bitter taste.
But god wasn't this view just stunning, and god weren't those thoughts just so pretty. Truly, this was hell, but you would and did suffer hell for the sake of safety, for the sake of having what you could, even if the scraps you clung to left you starved and hollow. You had it so bad for him, and you knew you had so much to give, but you wondered how long you could keep this up, because here you were: beating yourself up internally, silently wiping away more tears as you took in how a soft beam of moonlight broke across his beautiful sleeping face, willing to give up everything to be that shard of light, if only for a moment.
If only you knew how he was going to finally buckle a week from now after waking up to your sleeping form nuzzled into him.
Hey youre not being watched, youre not being surveyed always, there is nothing watching you. I say that from the bottom of my heart, and i hipe this helps even just a little bit. No one cares, in the nicest of ways, that you flapped your heand when you got too excited about soemthing, people love to see you happy and in joh, no one cared when you posted that fic and there was a spelling error, people loved it and read it in their bus or on the train or on the bus to work and it made their day, they got lost in your words amd they fell in kove with the stories you make. They love your writing, and they csnt wait for you to post more when you can. And if you cant, they will enjoy what you have already blasted off into the universe, into their hands for them to hold and care for and cherish. Your art and your writing and your music is cherished, even if it has fallen on deaf ears or someone criticized it. Its just between you and god, you and the man who is always watching but with love. And jesus is there too i guess hi buddy lol
But you need to remember to keep creating, and resting too goddammit whenever you can because a burnt out artist feels like the end of the world i would kmow because i wrote all of this in a tangent while sitting on my toilet on my mini ipad for you to read, it may just be for me but i hipe upi touched someine today, eben if it was hust me, i love uou.
Let me say it again, if no one loves uou, i love you. Even the hyperthettical me that you see in uour dreams, that you imagine sitting beside you as you read this, but im here with you. ALways. If no one is in your heart than i am, i am the kind words that enter your mind when you think an animal is cute or you think you look hot or sexy in your new outfit or naked or just in your underwear, i love it, i think uou look hot and sexy and beautiful no matter how old you are, because i will always love you. Even on your worst days when youre mean and your zoned out and you hate your sistser or your brother or your paretns or your dad or mom or uncle died and you dont know what to do with all of the grief, i will be sitting beside you holding your hand through it.
I made myself cry with my own words, because this is what i always needed to hear. I needed to hear this. I am the kind voice in my own head and heart and i miss her so much it hurts so much and im sorry.
like you're telling me that dragon actually does care about luffy and would watch him whenever he passed by????? and the reason why he left luffy is so that he doesn't get caught up in his fights or be used as a weakness against dragon?????? LUFFY GREW UP WITHOUT A FATHER BECAUSE DRAGON DIDN'T WANT TO PUT HIS ONLY SON IN DANGER????
the birth of harry finally come to life, thanks to the incredible visions depicted in de amore ex tempore, a fic by @persephoneflouwers that has me dreaming like i haven't in a while. thank you <3