#and connection and comfort

[duisarcusxiv]

Desperate

for comfort, for affection, for him - she doesn't know how to word what she's feeling, but she can't ignore it either.

[lamina-tsrif]

you’ve changed (for the better)

for @where-does-the-heart-lie ‘s fighting game au I love ur designs I love them dearly

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.

The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.

Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.

Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.

Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.

Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.

When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.

They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.

Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.

The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.

Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.

He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.

He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.

He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back

He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.

Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.

Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.

Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking for when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?

Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?

[teleportationmagic]

Inspired by the latest Batgirl issue

[oxygen537art]

[coleslawmaw]

axe

[miasmaghoul]

Swiss got called back to the abbey because Frater Imperator couldn't manage on his own and needed a right hand. Aether was too busy running the infirmary to do it, and Cumulus has never been interested in leadership. Swiss though? Swiss can do it. He can and will do anything for his Papa. He said goodbye in his kiss to V that one night, and then he was gone. Vanished by some clergy underlings.

Aeon, in a small, hollow voice, asks Dew that night if he felt this way when Aether left, a hand over his own heart, and Dew just lets the poor thing cry it out against his chest until he's exhausted and finally asleep.

Then his tears come too.

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

[h0useslut]

feeling more human and hooked on her flesh ᢉ𐭩

requests | masterlist | pt2

pairing : gregory house x fem! neighbour au! reader

w/c : 1k

warnings : insomnia, nightmares, hinted past trauma

summary : house doesn’t think much of his new neighbour— until her quiet presence and a single sticky note lead to late-night piano requests, soft glances and something tender growing between two insomniacs.

a/n : there will be a part two. end of discussion hehe

♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚

House didn’t really pay attention to his neighbours. He knew their names, their faces. He knew that one of them got takeout almost every day. That was it.

He also knew that the apartment across from him was vacant. And that a certain somebody had moved in.

You had moved in.

You weren’t the type to make a grand gesture and start baking cookies for all your neighbours. Greet them, and invite them to your new place. You were quiet, shy — thank god.

He didn’t even bother to meet your gaze at first. But when your soft voice greeted him with a smile, he couldn’t help but smile back.

You didn’t pry. Didn’t ask about the cane. And that alone made him like you a bit more than the others.

Since then, House paid a little more attention to you. He started noticing how you were never loud— like you were cautious of disturbing someone.

He noticed other things too.

How your lights were on until late, sometimes even past midnight. As if you weren’t getting any sleep.

It was then that he started playing the piano late at night again, not expecting something to happen. But when you started turning off your lights every other night when he finished playing, he felt intrigued by it…

Maybe a little concerned…

Maybe

He figured it might be nightmares, or something close enough. But he wouldn’t dare to ask— he never asked. He let himself think that maybe the piano helped.

Until one night, he found proof that something went wrong.

A case held him in the office past midnight, making him almost collapse on his couch. But he didn’t. He saw a little sticky note on the outside of his door, making him stop in his steps.

“You play beautifully. Try Clair de Lune tonight?”

That was it. No name, no number, or even apartment number. But he knew — oh he knew it was you who wrote it.

Because who else stayed up past 1 am and only turned off the light when he stopped playing the piano?

You.

You hadn’t meant to do that. But you couldn’t just knock on his door either. You weren’t scared of him but weren’t so keen on disturbing him either.

So you wrote it on a post it. Since you were too shy to speak to him, you expressed your feelings on a post it.

You’d expected him to toss it in the trash, to ignore it. Anything. Maybe even crumble it up and mutter something sarcastic under his breath— “Who the hell leaves requests on sticky notes?!”

You imagined him reading it— rolling his eyes and forgetting about it by the time he locked his door.

That was safer to believe. Safer than hoping he’d play it just for you.

What you didn’t expect though, was him playing Claire de Lune that same night.

You were tossing and turning all night, small tears of frustration trickling down your cheeks. You knew he hadn’t been back, because you eyed on the post it both times you left and returned from work.

The clock read 2 am. You were so sure he was probably laughing at it, thinking that you were pathetic.

Until you heard it.

The soft notes of piano filled his apartment, and yours.

It was slow— careful. As if he was testing the keys. But in reality, he just wanted you to listen to it.

And god, did you listen to it.

You sat up, the blanket falling from your shoulders as you tried to listen to him playing. Maybe it wasn’t perfect— but you couldn’t tell. You didn’t care.

Because it was for you.

Only for you.

That night you didn’t sleep. Not because of the nightmares, or the past creeping up on you. This time, it was different.

This time, you stayed up just to listen.

The next night, you hesitated on your door. Hovering over the door— like you expected something… or someone

You weren’t planning on writing another note, no. But when you stepped out in the hallway to catch your breath— maybe hoping you’d…

You saw him.

House.

He was standing there, already back from the hospital. He didn’t mean to linger too long, didn’t mean to stare. But he did.

He was the first to speak, voice low— almost soft.

“You know” he started, a hint of a smile on his face. “I don’t usually take requests”

Your lips parted and then curved into a small smile.

“Thank you. I really liked it.” You said, in a soft tone. He had never heard your voice. It was so sweet, almost gentle.

“I played it like crap” he protested, shrugging his shoulders.

“It still helped though”

Silence. Not uncomfortable, not at all. He leaned back in his door, looking at you up and down.

He didn’t ask questions, didn’t dig or push you to talk. He could see the anguish in your eyes, though.

You spoke first, voice a little quieter than before.

“Couldn’t sleep last night”

He nodded like he knew.

And oh, he knew.

His tone wasn’t sarcastic anymore— It wasn’t like the usual tone he used with Wilson, with the team— with anyone.

“I figured. But—“ Another pause. “But next time you want me to play something, knock on my door”

Your eyes widened slightly— your chest feeling warm at his words. He saw the way your face flushed, almost immediately.

He didn’t want to comment on it. He would, with anyone. But there was something about you…

“Okay,” You finally spoke, agreeing with him.

Your eyes lingered on his a little longer than usual, but you both didn’t say anything.

“Goodnight Greg”

Eyes still on you, he gave a small nod.

“Goodnight”

Then you both disappeared inside your apartments— doors closing softly behind you. But both of you felt warm inside— Content.

And after midnight, the sound of the piano echoed through your walls, making you close your eyes and sigh— not because of the weight on your chest. Because you felt relieved. Like some weight got off of you.

You didn’t listen to the piano this time because you’d woken up by a nightmare, or were scared.

You listened because you cared.

Because every night he played for you.

[komfortabull]

The Blueberry muffin getting a gentle kiss from the sun ♡

[crabsnpersimmons]

"Your heart was in the right place. Don't blame your earnestness and efforts for their lack of understanding—the right people will appreciate your heart."

EDIT: i mention this in the tags already, but please don't copy my vent tags in your reblogs. thanks for understanding.

[asavt]

[ Intertwined ]

Another illustration I made for the event I was in! The sonic phase hit for a few days and I had to take advantage of that.

[fatuismooches]

Although I still haven't really worked out the logic of Dottore and the segments' hive-mind thingy, the thought of it is pretty funny, mostly when you think about it for (accidental) snitching purposes.

The segments, being as engrossed in their research and work as they are, still sometimes succumb to their desires and temporarily leave (not ditch, they insist) to find you. For what is obvious - cuddles, kisses, praises - nothing new. The only problem is that sometimes they get so comfy in your embrace that their minds relax a lot, which is usually a good thing, but then they happen to soften a bit too much. Meaning some... awkward thoughts get accidentally swept into the hive-mind and therefore the minds of the other segments.

"I hate how you always know what to do."

"...?"

"Were they always this warm?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Can you stop chattering? I'm in the middle of something important."

"How can their hands be so gentle? Mhm, that feels good."

"... 'Their hands'? Wait, are you with [Name] right now?"

"Excuse me? I thought you said you were finishing compiling the data I asked for ages ago."

"Why are you with them when we agreed to let them rest? Who said you could hog their attention?"

Of course, you can guess how situations like these end up going. Usually with the segment who slipped up, completely ignoring the barrage of thoughts once he's realized he's aired out those embarrassing thoughts. Prime being exasperated and Omega wishing he could make them all disappear.

[wickerfox]

"You know, I see you in here all the time. What's your name again?"

[cosmic-castor-canadensis]

What if, when BD-1 found Cal on Ilum after they were separated, he thought he was already dead? His body temperature was too low, and he wasn't moving, not even shivering. BD-1 thinks he is too late, that he's lost his Jedi, he's failed. And that's what triggers him to remember Cordova's farewell recording. In that moment, he needs to hear that failure is not the end, just as much as Cal.