#I'm taking days off of work

[greppelheks]

I think I'm slowly starting to understand that me being constantly exhausted is just because I'm finally safe and my body is no longer running on adrenaline and cortisol all the time. I've been fighting against the exhaustion for over a year but I haven't actually allowed myself to rest without feeling guilty.

[solarmorrigan]

Silly idea I talked about ages ago with @azure7539arts, inspired by a similar event my workplace hosts every year. Would minors be allowed to participate in such an event? Probably not! But then again, it was the 80s, who can say for sure. Anyway, it's my birthday and I'll post nonsense if I want to <3

-

“I need you to buy me.”

Eddie looks up from his notebook, effectively jarred from his campaign-plotting fugue state by Steve’s declaration.

Steve is standing at the other end of the dining table, staring at him expectantly.

“Y’know, this is the part where someone usually follows up their completely bonkers demand with an explanation,” Eddie says slowly.

“At the charity auction,” Steve clarifies. “I need you to bid on me, and I need you to win.”

Ah, yes, that weird Rent-an-Athlete charity auction the school runs every year; anyone on any Hawkins High sports team could volunteer to be “auctioned” off in order to raise money for said sports team, to spend a day at the beck and call of the highest bidder (within reason, supposedly). It’s generally restricted to students, but occasionally, prominent alumni are invited to participate – and Steve certainly fits the bill, especially after the story the government spun about his heroism in the face of “serial killer” Henry Creel last spring.

“And what, deny all those pretty girls a chance to get at you?” Eddie asks drily (he’d never turned up at previous auctions himself, but you could hardly avoid gossip in a school their size; it had usually been some cheerleader bidding with daddy’s money who won a date– that is, a day with Steve Harrington).

“It wasn’t always a girl who won,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest. “One time it was Mrs. Dalton – you know, the lady on the school board who lives on my block? I just spent the day doing yard work for her. She gave me lemonade. That was pretty cool.”

“Right,” Eddie drawls. “And I’m sure she definitely didn’t sit outside and stare at your ass while you were working.”

“She did not– she– I mean she was on the porch, but, like– she wouldn’t have– she’s, like, seventy, Eddie,” Steve splutters, and it’s all Eddie can do not to laugh.

“Older gals have needs, too, Steve,” Eddie says, giving in to a smirk. “So she was checking you out from the porch, huh?”

Steve goes red. “Shut up, that isn’t the point. I’m trying to ask for your help.”

“Right, right, your absolutely reasonable request for me to buy you at market. Why, again?” Eddie asks.

“The kids are planning to bid on me,” Steve says gravely.

Eddie blinks at him. “Okay?” he says, when no further explanation is forthcoming. “You basically do most of what they ask, anyway, so…?”

“Okay, believe it or not, I actually say no to at least half of what they ask me to do. I would literally never get anything done if I gave in to all their demands.” Steve jabs a finger at Eddie, who holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Anyway, this is all Henderson’s fault.”

“It usually is,” Eddie agrees, nodding sagely.

“He decided that he was going to bid on me and then use that day to finally make me play your nerd game with you–” Eddie snorts, and Steve shoots him a look, “but Wheeler doesn’t want me to play, so he said he was going to bid against Dustin and make me do anything but sit in on a session with you guys.”

“So let Wheeler win.” Eddie shrugs.

“No! I can’t let fuckin’ Mike win, he’ll probably make me do something even more ridiculous!” Steve exclaims. "He’ll make me play chauffeur for him and El on a date, or something, and he’ll probably include the stupid hat.”

“Wait, I thought El broke up with him,” Eddie breaks in.

“No, they’re on again,” Steve says absently, shaking his head. “Which is why Max has been in a bad mood lately.”

Eddie bites back the reflexive need to ask “How can you tell?”, going instead with, “I thought she and Sinclair were on again.”

“No, they are. That’s why no one’s been actively murdered,” Steve says.

“How do you keep track of all of this?” Eddie asks, squinting at Steve.

“It’s a natural skill. And we’re getting off track,” Steve says quickly. “Normally, I wouldn’t be that worried, because Dustin regularly blows his savings on weird science gadgets or whatever, but then Lucas and Will started taking sides.”

“This is getting very involved,” Eddie says.

“So you see why I’m stressed!” Steve insists, smacking a hand to his forehead (personally, Eddie thinks Steve is stressed for many other reasons, but he figures pointing that out just now won’t be appreciated). “Lucas is on Dustin’s side, and that kid does odd jobs like nobody’s goddamn business; he actually has shit saved up. And usually I’d have faith in him being more, like, sensible than to spend it all on this, but the little shit is really fucking competitive.”

“Wonder who he got that from?” Eddie mutters.

“Okay, we do remember that I’m not actually biologically related to any of these idiots, right?” Steve snaps.

“Well now we’re just getting into nature versus nurture–”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry, continue.”

“Well, Will took Mike’s side–”

“Shocking.”

“Right? But anyway, I don’t know if the kid has much saved up, but between him and Wheeler, they might be able to win.” Steve sighs, looking far more world-weary than Eddie feels the situation really warrants.

“You know you don’t actually have to do what they ask you to, right?” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If an auction winner complains to the school that the person they bid on didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain, they can get their money back. It’s a whole…” he waves his hand vaguely, “thing. Happened once when I was a sophomore; Deacon McNab. Lost a good chunk of change for the football team, and they vandalized the shit out of his car.”

“Ah, right. Forgot we went to school with literal psychopaths,” Eddie hums.

“So, I just need you to bid on me and win, so I’m not stuck wasting a Saturday on whatever the hell the kids are going to try to make me do. Or not do. Or– whatever,” Steve says.

“Okay, not that I don’t understand your predicament here, but I think you’re forgetting something kind of important, Steve,” Eddie drawls.

Steve’s brows draw together in question. “What?”

“I’m fucking poor.”

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t mean– no, I will give you the money, you don’t have to spend a dime, man, I just need you to get me out of this.”

“Why not have Buckley do it?” Eddie asks.

“That was Plan A, but she actually has a date that night, and it’s kind of a big deal, so I don’t want her to cancel,” Steve says. “But I assumed you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Wow, rude,” Eddie scoffs, and Steve sighs.

“Fine, sorry, I just really hoped you wouldn’t be busy.” Steve gives him the most lethal set of puppy dog eyes Eddie has ever seen, as if there had been any chance from the beginning that he’d be able to say no. “Please?”

Just for show, Eddie lets out a long sigh, falling against his chair and letting his head flop over the backrest like he’s deflating.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Steve groans, sounding so genuinely relieved that Eddie almost feels bad about how quickly his thoughts dip into the realms of the inappropriate. “Oh my god, I owe you.”

Eddie glances back up at Steve, tongue darting out to wet his lips almost unconsciously. “You know I’m not as easy to appease as a couple of fifteen-year-olds, right?”

Steve’s eyes drop for just a second—maybe down to Eddie’s lips, maybe not; who can say?—before he looks back up, cocking an eyebrow at Eddie. “I think I can handle it.”

Slowly, Eddie grins. “We’ll see.”

[benevolenterrancy]

May your hardened heart be woken By the soft and distant song Of all you left here unspoken All the shards we keep stepping on - Take this body home Take this body home Call the wind, and let her know Take this life outgrown Take this broken soul Call the stars, call them all And take it high, take it far, take it home

[leavethebagelalone]

"i love you, momma"

my take on a beautiful scene from @its-just-me-7's incredible fic, disguised intentions

[hotwaterandmilk]

Without going into detail I had a medical emergency earlier this week that saw me wind up in hospital for a brief stint. I'm OK, I've got another lifelong condition to manage but it's mainly pain-related and that means it's management through outpatient neurology for me.

TL;DR it sucks, but it won't kill me so I don't want to dwell on it.

I just want to shout out to my beautiful cat who slept beside me for twelve hours straight after I got home and was nice to the paramedics when they were doing their job. She makes even the worst situations bearable. Love her, here's an artist's impression I commissioned:

While I still have a lot of plans for working on my Wedding Peach site, this new complication may slow me down a bit. I'll keep on keeping on though, you know me. Thanks for your patience.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Literally everyone in the QSMP fandom on their hands and knees rn like SAVE ME TIO FABIO and I am one of them

[canisalbus]

I had a scrap piece of paper and drew the little freakish dog 👍 I have been silently enjoying your art for like a couple months now? I found it randomly on uploaded Pinterest and was like “oh huh that’s rad” and yeah he’s such a lovely sad little beast

.

[navybrat817]

Just got out of a meeting and my manager found out I'm barely 5'3 (I think I'm 5'2.5?). She said I give off tall girl vibes and everyone else agreed. They also still think I'm lying about my age because I look younger.

[royalarchivist]

Translation:

7 DAYS LEFT!

On the 7th at 7 PM, we will go to the Nether.... I will create a way for everyone to escape this island! I promise!

[becca-e-barnes]

any chance you could write stepdad!steve catching you sneak back in from a party?

Pleaseeeeee 🤤 This is a lil short one but I might give it a second part

"What time do you call this?" You knew you were fucked when the taxi dropped you home and the light in your kitchen illuminated the drive way. Your mum made a habit of turning it off every night and you were only getting away with this if everyone was asleep.

It was well past the time your mum and stepdad usually went to bed. Hell, it was well past the time you usually went to bed yourself. You didn't often stay up to 2:37am and you absolutely never stayed out that late. Despite the fact you're in your 20's, your new stepdad had set the rule that you were to be home by 1am every night. No exceptions. Asshole.

It usually wasn't hard to follow his rules. No boys in your bedroom. Don't stay out late. Fill up the fuel you use in the car. Nothing really out of the ordinary. But then again, he kept telling you that you weren't the rule breaking type anyway.

"Sorry, I lost track of time." You did your best to avoid looking at your stepfather while you lied through your teeth. You'd known damn well what time it was and you'd had every intention of staying out until the lights in the club came back on. You just didn't think you'd get caught.

"Mhm." Steve's hum almost sounded convincing, pausing while he folded his arms, his navy blue pyjama top straining around his biceps. "You expect me to believe that? You're a bright girl, sweetheart. I know you can tell the time."

Damn your own body for betraying you like this. His praise makes your tummy flutter and you know it's so damn wrong.

"I know you want to be a good girl, don't you?" He pauses again, waiting for your response and he seems satisfied when you nod. "Always so well behaved for me. You know what? I'll let you pick your own punishment. Just this once." His eyes are trained on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort at the way things are progressing.

"Option 1. I confiscate your car keys." Fair enough but that would be really inconvenient. "Option 2. I confiscate your phone." Oh no, absolutely not. "Option 3. I confiscate that shitty little vibrator you keep in the drawer beside your bed."

How does he even know you have that? It's mortifying enough that he feels able to punish you but this is a step further than you were expecting.

"No need to be shy about it, honey. I get it. You've got needs. Nothing to be embarrassed about. And if it makes you feel better, I could show you how a real man should touch you. You'll forget that little plastic thing even exists."

Fuck, that's an offer you could only ever have dreamed of. In fact, it's painfully close to what you imagine while you're frantically rolling the vibrator in question over your own clit.

"If you'd rather lose your car keys or your phone, feel free. Choice is yours." Steve sounds awfully nonchalant for someone who's just made a proposal like that but there's no chance you're turning down his offer.

"Option 3." Your voice is barely a squeak and you almost think you've made the wrong decision when Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Good girl. Go get it."

[cerise-on-top]

Nikolai with a s/o who always has a hand on his chest? With consent ofc, and it’s always to feel his heartbeat. I think of this all the time and it’s always super cute in my head.

Hello! That is pretty cute!

Nikolai Always with Reader’s Hand on His Chest

Nikolai is a pretty laid back and chill sort of man, so he usually doesn’t mind you putting your hand over his heart. Maybe not while you’re walking, though, he doesn’t want you to trip. It’s very sweet to him: You wanna make sure that he’s alive? That he’s still with you? That his heart is still beating? Trust me, not even death could take him away from you. He’d dig his way out of his grave after killing the reaper with his bare hands himself. You can always put your hand over his chest while you’re at home together, though. It’s nice to feel you. After a while it would be reassuring to him as well, feeling that you’re there, that you’re with him. He thinks it’s sweet that you always want to be touching him, because if it was up to you he’d do the same thing with you. After some time, once he’s realized that you’re always touching him whenever you can, he tries to get into positions that facilitate you touching him a bit. Usually lies on his back when you’re cuddling so you have full access to him. Can and will fall asleep like that, but will also want to hold you back. Will also put his hand over your heart as well so he can “get back at you”. In reality, feeling your heartbeat is also just nice and reassuring to him. However, he sometimes might lie on your chest in order to hear it as well, something like it lulls him to sleep, after all. You can put your hand over his chest in public as well, though, he doesn’t particularly mind cuddling in public either. There’s a good chance you’ll be nicely clothed, though, so you won’t feel his heartbeat unless you slip your hand under his clothes. You can do that, he doesn’t care about strangers staring in public. However, once it’s time to continue walking around, release him. You can continue your antics once you’ve found another nice bench to sit on.

[franky-y]

a painting of Häärijä and Chelsea

[triglycercule]

if dust takes off his hood and scarf then nobody can recognize him. he has literally no permanent traits that make him recognizable (which actually kinds upsets me because,,,,, there is no physical representation of his character development from sans to dust BUT EAAHHHH whatever,,, we cope with it.) but in like a silly goofy comedic way. it's like perry the playapus ans dr doofenshirmst (incorrect spelling but only by societies standards)

dust with hood down and no scarf

killer: a sans?

he puts on the scarf

horror: a GENOCIDE sans???

the hood goes up

killer: DUST SANS AKA MURDER SANS AKA DUSTTALE SANS FROM HIT AU DUSTTALE?????

horror's skull breaks a second time on the other side from sheer shock

[mercymaker]

trying to make bg3 work for me today got me like

[hephaestuscrew]

Sometimes I think about Dominik Koudelka's assistant who takes Minkowski's call in Ep43 Persuasion...

In the moment, dismissing the voice on the other end of the phone feels like the right thing to do. She can't just put any random person who calls through to Mr. Koudelka immediately; if she did, there would be no point in him having an assistant at all. And when that random caller is claiming to be Mr. Koudelka's dead wife, of course it would be wrong to subject him to that. (Cont. below cut)

She's seen Mr. Koudelka in the denial stage of grief, if only from a professional distance. She knows that the only time he took off after he heard the news was the day of his wife's funeral. She knows he started working days so long it was a wonder he got any sleep at all. She's heard rumours that he tried to insist that The Times' coverage of the shuttle crash ought to use the word 'allegedly' more. Apparently he ignored every sensitively-worded inquiry about whether he wanted to have any input on his wife's obituary.

Mr. Koudelka certainly doesn't need some cruel joke reopening emotional wounds. It's better not to mention it to him. His assistant knows that she did the right thing. 

Or at least, she thinks she did. But she still can't stop thinking about that voice on the other end of phone, its desperation, its sense of urgency, its bizarre impossible claim.

So maybe she finds herself looking up Renée Minkowski, just to set her mind at ease. And there's surprisingly little information out there, but she eventually finds a clip of an interview from just before the launch of the Hephaestus mission. And that's when her stomach drops. She recognises the voice in the video. It's the same voice as the one she heard on the end of the phone. She's sure it's the same voice.

And what is she supposed to do then? Go to her boss and tell him that his wife is alive? Tell him that she lost him potentially his one chance to talk to his presumed dead wife? Admit that she didn't tell him about that call straight away? She's got no proof, just her memory. What if she's wrong about it being the same voice? Maybe it was a good impersonator, or a technological trick, or the power of suggestion. Is telling him the truth worth risking her job for? Is it worth risking giving false hope to a widower who has only just begun to move on? What if he doesn't believe her? What if he does?

[curiosity-killed]

a while back I had lunch with a couple of coworkers, one of whom asked me why I like public transit and public libraries—in a genuinely, sincerely interested fashion. it was not the first time I've been asked—or had people express bemusement about this—and so, despite being caught totally off-guard the first time, I did actually have an answer this time, which was I try to support things I want to see in the world.

and i felt (and feel) like this is extremely obvious. if we all assume that someone else is going to make sure the things we care about exist and exist well, so that we don't have to do anything—chances are good they're not going to get the support they need and they, in fact, won't exist or improve. So, the counter to that is to take the steps you can to provide that support. (duh)

but I feel like there is this mindset (that is heavily class [and likely race and gender] influenced) of like....someone else will take care of it. And it's about public transit or libraries and independent bookstores and it's about voting and advocacy and community. All these important things that require maintenance and perpetual engagement—the same way that you can't just wash your dishes once in your life and never have to do them again (unless you switch to disposal dishes, but then you still have to take out the trash).

I get that there are a lot of reasons why people feel disenfranchised and fatigued but...at the end of the day, life is composed of an endless series of actions that influence what options are available to you in the future. whether it's voting or going to the library instead of amazon or taking the bus instead of an uber....like. yeah you're gonna have to keep doing it if you want to have an impact. there's no silver bullet that's going to magically land us in utopia with only perfect choices, so you're just going to have to keep choosing the best option you've got to get you that next step closer.

if there isn't a bus that takes you from doorstep to doorstep, you still take the bus that gets you closest. if the dishes are dirty, you wash them. if you want the benefits of society, you show up.