#chr: cores

[burnxngslash]

message in the timeline: 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄 | @wisteraa | 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

❛  eat this, it's a new cookie recipe i've tried.  ❜ carrie and peter pan

Even telepaths needed a leisurely day. It would do her well if they took some time from the TRAINING he’s given her and gave her moments to breathe and have fun being ‘normal’ since that’s what she seemed to like for some reason. What surprised him was the fact she said she was going to bake, ..that was a memory that brought his mind into the past. Days where the local baker showed him SOME kindness and presented him with a treat that was neglected to sell and Malcolm would in turn give that cookie to his son. 

Her voice manages to SOMEWHAT bring her out of it, but suddenly being fed sample completely brought his mind back into reality as the taste hits his senses. He couldn’t help but hum in delight, chewing before finally swallowing. It was sweet, not too sweet of course. ❝   𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲.   ❞  Malcolm spoke after clearing his breath. “You’ve got a knack for this.” The boy said with a soft smile on his face. Patience Peter, there will be a time to turn this strange land into a new NEVERLAND.

[adamfamilysblog]

Guys, the campaign has not reached the quarter mark. I need your serious support. Please everyone donate.

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[bisexualisaaclahey]

you had me at scallisaac as the ot3. where do i sign

teen wolf leverage au. consider it. now agree.

[ahmedwahdann]

"Today, January 27, 2025, we continue working together to provide support to those in need in Gaza. Although the war has ceased, hunger, destruction, and water shortages are still devastating the lives of many families. The end of the fighting doesn't mean the end of suffering, as many families are still facing hardship and need our help.

Water stations have been destroyed, and there is a severe shortage of food and basic resources. Families who lost their homes are now facing immense challenges in securing daily necessities. The situation is dire, and they need us now more than ever.

We need your continued support. Every donation, no matter how small, makes a significant difference in the lives of those suffering. Every share of this campaign helps spread awareness and reach more people who can contribute.

If you are unable to donate, you can still support us by sharing this post on your social media platforms. Let us unite in supporting our people in Gaza and make their hope stronger than ever. We need you now more than ever, and together, we can make a difference

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #440 )✅️

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[777sturn]

𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚 | 𝐜hristopher 𝐬turniolo . . .

(⊹ֹ 𝐢𝐧 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 ) ──── ⟢

❛ chris is your dealer and strictly that. but what happens when both of you get too high? ❜

˖ ࣪⊹ pairing. dealer!chris x fem!reader

⊹₊ ⋆ warning(s). mature language, suggestive, little smut, drug usage/mention (weed), smoking, rough make out sesh, pet names (princess) boob play, hickies, high

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ jules’ message. hey cuties! this is kinda inspired by the fanfic nervous by louis-core on wattpad and that one sceneee (iykyk) AND the song me and your mama by childish gambinooo 😊 this was so silly to write ENJOYYYY

“ . . . im in love when we are smokin’ that la-la-la-la-la . . . ”

it was late at night, probably around midnight. the moonlight shone down, casting a pearlescent light on everything it touched, but it was still dark enough to see nothing. you were currently waiting for chris at your guys spot, a random park that children would play at earlier in the days. you were sat on the sidewalk, facing the play structure that hasn’t been touched since probably 9 in the morning.

you had texted him a couple hours ago for weed since you had just ran out earlier and was currently craving it. you and chris weren’t anything. he was just your dealer— nothing else. not even friends but not strangers. despite being nothing, you guys would have those late night talks at the park, just talking about random shit. and i mean random shit— some conversations could be really deep and others could be random.

“hey,” chris greeted, gently kicking your lower back as he snuck up behind you.

“holy shit!” you turn around, startled. you roll your eyes and glare up at chris, “god, you scared me.”

a small smirk of satisfaction played at his lips as he successfully scared you, “pussy.” he mutters.

he then took his hand out of his pocket, holding up a plastic bag of your prized possession. your eyes light up and a smile appears on your face, “thanks.” you hum out, taking the bag from him, “how much?”

“on me today,” chris mumbles, sitting beside you. he runs his fingers through his brown hair and sets his backpack in front of him, “you sounded like you needed it bad, so i brought the shit.” he unzips the bag, revealing a grinder, some rolling paper, and a blue lighter.

“you’re sweet today.” you mutter, watching him take everything out, “i wasnt expecting you to smoke with me.”

he shrugs and scoffs, “don’t think about it. you’re paying me full next time.”

“yeah yeah.” you roll your eyes, adjusting your position so you were now sitting criss-cross apple sauce. you slowly open the plastic bag of weed, immediately feeling at ease as you carefully put it into the grinder.

chris’ eyes widen slightly, “you need help?” he teased, leaning back and propping his body up with his elbows.

you shoot him a glare, grinding the weed slowly, “uhm no. im capable.” you turn back to it before speaking again, “hybrid?”

“hybrid.” he confirms.

you hum in response as you finish grinding it. the rolling paper was out infront of you as you carefully placed it on it, making sure to not spill it on the concrete. the moonlight helped you to see as your gently rolled it up. you picked it up and brought it to your lips, your tongue slowly darting out as you glided it along the paper to seal it.

chris nods in amusement, lazily having his hand out as he signaled you to pass it to him. when you give it to him, he inspects it and a proud smirk painted his lips, “atta girl.” he mumbles.

“told you.” you smile, handing him the lighter, “first hit.”

chris brings the joint to his lips, flicking it to create a spark. he takes a slow drag before exhaling and throwing his head back, enjoying the feeling, “fuck.” he lets out a low chuckle before passing it you.

you smile as you notice the euphoric feeling immediately hitting chris. you take a slow drag yourself, the feeling you once craved was now settling down as the high kicked in. you mirror chris’ position beside him. as you exhale, you cough a little and chris turns to you with glossy eyes.

“you suck.” he teased, taking the joint back, “this is how it’s done.”

you give him a look as your mind began to get hazy despite only having one. he brings it to his lips once again, this time taking a longer drag. instead of exhaling, he holds the smoke in his mouth and turns to hover over you. it felt like the world just stopped when he brought his hand to gently cup your face and tilt it more up.

your eyes meet his icy and glossy eyes as his thumb carefully pulled your bottom lip down, causing your lips to part a little. he moved his head closer to yours, his lips brushed against yours for a split second before he exhales the smoke slowly into your mouth. your eyes widen as he gives you the smoke and moves away so he could watch you blow it out. as you do he nods again proudly, “cool huh?” his voice was raspier then usual with a hint of sultry.

you nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as that intimate moment replayed in your head in 2x speed, “yeah.” you whisper.

“your turn.” chris smirked, handing the blunt to you once again, “you got it.” he thens pats his lap, gesturing you to sit down.

your eyes widen more and your cheeks flush a tint of pink, “uhm what?”

“i don’t bite.” he scoffs, patting his lap once again.

you press your lips together as you crawl into his lap. he nods approvingly as his right hand landed on your waist and his left on your upper thigh. even though you two were completely out of it, you were still able to get a good look at him because of how close you were. the moonlight accentuated his cheekbones and the blue in his eyes.

he gently squeezed your thigh to get your attention, “focus, princess.” the nickname and sudden squeeze quickly snapped you back in reality as you were literally caught staring at him.

“right.” you mutter, feeling the heat rise up to your cheeks once again. you remember all the steps that chris did, following his lead.

he slowly started tracing patterns on your soft skin, “now come close and exhale okay?” he mumbles, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear.

you nod as you kept the smoke enclosed in your mouth. you do the same steps, cupping his face, pull down his bottom lip, and exhale. you move out of the way so he could blow out the smoke.

chris gives your thigh a light slap as he watched it evaporate in the air, “you’re a natural.”

you smile softly, “thanks.” now it was for certain you guys were out of it and the euphoric feeling kicked in at the right time.

his hands gripped onto your waist much tighter for a split second. he then moved his head towards your ear and whispered, “lets do that without the weed, yeah?” he suggested, his breath gently brushed along your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

he pulls away to read your expression. your face was beat red at his words, “what?” you whisper softly. of course you didn’t mind, you wanted to kiss him but hearing those words outloud didn’t seem real.

chris smirked, giving your waist yet another squeeze, “a kiss princess.”

“i know,” you whisper again, “are you sure?”

“even though we’re high as fuck,” he mutters, “i mean everything i say right now.” his right hand cupped your face, pulling you closer, “its harmless.” he says against your lips.

you place your hands at the back of his neck, your pointer finger slowly intertwined with the silver chain that adorned his neck as a way to allow him. his soft lips met yours and you instantly melted at his touch. you needed more and more at that moment.

his hands traveled back to the curves of your waist, pulling you closer and closer if that was even possible. he ran his tongue along your bottom lip, begging for more.

you open your mouth ever so slightly as you tilt your head, allowing him. he slides his tongue in, exploring every inch of you and tasting you. he was automatically addicted. he loved the taste of the little weed that lingered on your tongue and the way your soft moans were like music to his ears. you were a drug he didnt know he needed.

your fingers got caught in his hair as you deepened the kiss, craving more. he groaned as you gently tugged his messy hair, the sound vibrated through your body causing every hair on your back to stick straight up. his tongue continued to swirl against yours, occasionally tugging and nibbling on your bottom lip.

he pulled away and quickly resumed the sloppy and messy kisses from your jawline all the way down to your neck, gently sucking and nipping at your sensitive spot. you tilt your head back giving him more access and gripped onto his hair tighter as he got rougher with the love bites. he groaned against your skin and continued to suck harder creating a red fresh bruise before soothing it with his tongue. another quiet moan escaped your lips as his hands went up your hoodie.

the things he would do right now to you were insane— the only thing that was stopping him was how you two were in a public park in the middle of the night. he lifts up his head from the crook of your neck smiling as he admired his work. your gaze focuses back on him as your chest rose up and down, trying to catch your breath. your hands were still tangled in his hair.

“you’re pretty good at that too.” he mutters, his hands tracing to the front of your body as he slides them under your hoodie once again. they meet your breasts before giving your nipples a light pinch, “im fucking addicted,”

another moan escapes your mouth at his action. he shakes his head and sighs, “quiet princess.” he murmurs, squeezing your tits once more.

you let in a shaky breath and pull your bottom in between your teeth as he continues to massage them, switching paces from rough to gentle.

“you dont gotta pay me for weed anymore.” he smirks, rolling your nipples with his thumbs.

“what?” you whisper, shakily as you look at him.

“we just gotta make out everytime now,” he chuckles lowly, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead, “that’s the payment.”

© 777sturn

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

Steve hears Eddie’s voice in The Upside Down.

It starts when they reach the vine infested attic of the Creel House, after they’ve lured the bats into the woods with a trail of fire, made them drowsy and stupid before setting them all ablaze; like a fucked up fairy ring, Steve had thought, and it had felt like exactly the kind of thing Eddie would think, and Steve’s trying to hold onto the words so he can remember to tell Eddie later; he wants to tell him—

He’s halfway up the stairs, stepping over a vine when he hears it.

“Shit. Oh, shit,” Eddie breathes.

He sounds so close, like he’s whispering in Steve’s ear.

And then he’s gone, and Steve’s turning to see Nancy and Robin just a step behind him—they haven’t heard anything, he can tell, but they both freeze for a moment, like they can read the fear on his face, something’s wrong, something’s really wrong.

But they all keep going, one step then another, and Steve thinks of history class, of soldiers going over the top.

He prays. Please, please…

More stairs. The door to the attic. Steve opens it.

Eddie’s voice again, high pitched and frightened. “H-hey, listen, man, you don’t—”

The sound is cut off abruptly; Steve feels a touch to the back of his hand. Robin.

He hands her the lighter, but he can see her hesitate out the corner of his eye, are you okay?

He shakes his head once, no time, and he smells a rag soaked with fuel when the voice comes again, still so desperately afraid, but hardening at the edges, “Oh, Jesus Chr—stop!”

“Steve.” Nancy next to him, eyebrows drawn.

There’s a Molotov cocktail in his hand that he can’t remember lighting.

Steve throws it.

He doesn’t even look to see if his aim is true, because Eddie is back, and his voice still shakes but there’s steel in its core, and Steve knows that all too well, knows the exact place it comes from: thinks of standing his ground in ‘84, knowing deep in his bones that it was down to him, that he’d do anything so long as the kids—

“Get away from them. I’m not—I’m not fucking messing around here, get away—”

Robin throws a bottle of her own; the flames soar, and Steve hears a new voice, dark and commanding—one he’s heard across the basketball court, but never quite like this.

“And the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone—”

Nancy aims the gun.

“—where the beast and the false prophet are—”

Fires.

“—and shall be tormented day and night—”

Again.

“—forever and ever.”

Nancy steps forward, takes aim once more.

And Steve hears another pair of footsteps, someone running; he turns towards the sound, towards the door, and for a moment it’s almost as if he can feel Eddie rush past him like a ghost—wants to reach out, to grab his hand, but the sensation slips away like smoke; he’s too far away, he’s too…

Nancy takes the final shot. Henry Creel’s body shifts from something monstrous to something that’s smaller and human, but no less terrible for it.

Steve doesn’t watch. Can’t rid the feeling that it all rings false.

He can’t hear Eddie anymore. Can’t hear anything apart from the frantic thud of his own heartbeat, but that’s good, that’s good, he can work with that—lets it drive him forward, lets pure instinct take over so he’s grabbing the axe without a thought, swinging so it hits the vines still tangled on the wall, dormant, dead.

They break easily. Steve keeps going; there’s the barest hint of resistance, but all it tells him is that he’s on the right path, and then something gives, parts…

“Nance,” Steve says.

She’s right by him; he feels her hand around his wrist. From the way she squeezes tightly, knows that she’s already understood.

“Okay,” she says, fragile, “okay, okay.” A shuddering breath. “Steve, I can’t just—I have to—”

“I know,” Steve says softly, because he feels it, too: the awful thought that it’s all over too quickly. Senses Nancy’s anxiety as if it was his own, the desperate need to check, to stand vigil. Then—and only then—will she declare it over to herself.

He holds her hand, squeezes back. Lets go.

There’s movement to the left of him. Robin, her hair in her eyes, and that’s gonna bug her eventually, so Steve fixes it for her, tries to smile, to make this easy.

“Five minutes, okay?” he says—thinks of the elevator in Starcourt, how she counted the seconds passing with freakish accuracy. “No more.”

She opens her mouth, but Steve keeps talking before she can. “Promise me.”

She goes to shake her head.

“Robin, please,” he says, voice breaking.

Years ago, his mom got a phone call about the fatal car crash his uncle had been in. She’d picked up somewhere in between the second ring and the third, and then she’d screamed, and Steve had overheard without understanding—had still felt the echo of her grief.

He’s never told anyone that. But he wonders if Robin can see something of it on his face—that he’s stuck: still in between rings, the split second before the scream—because she’s nodding suddenly, close to tears, but so serious.

“I—I promise, Steve.”

He slips through the Gate in the wall, leaves them both behind—all he has to soothe him is a gut feeling, as the heat of Nancy setting the vines alight fades away: that The Upside Down is just a graveyard now. That there’s no danger to be found—not anymore.

Not in there.

He steps into the attic, where the floorboards are bare. Looks around sharply—Lucas and Max, huddled in the corner, and he can’t tell, he can’t tell if—

As Steve runs to them, a soft click filters through. Max, rewinding her tape; she’s not even looking at her Walkman, like she’s not even aware that she’s doing it. The headphones lie around her neck.

“Oh, thank God,” Steve finds himself whispering, gets one hand on Max, the other on Lucas, “thank God, thank God.”

They shake under his touch. Steve wants to shield them from every horror in existence, wants to swear to them that it’s over now, that they don’t have to do it anymore, but he has to—

“Where’s Eddie?”

It’s not a surprise when Max’s eyes dart to the door. Steve’s stomach drops anyway.

Lucas speaks, voice ragged, “Jason, he…”

And as Steve looks at him, the kid’s thirteen again, eyes wide with fear in the face of Billy Hargrove. You’re dead, Sinclair.

Steve pushes back a hot swell of anger. Hugs Lucas roughly, then Max, murmurs, “Okay, it’s okay. Stay right here. Nancy and Robin are coming, I promise.”

“Steve,” Max whispers when he’s at the door.

He turns back.

But it’s like she’s run out of words, shivering in Lucas’s arms. Still rewinding the tape, but her fingers are slipping now.

Lucas speaks for her—eyes off to the side, like he’s seeing something more than a Gate in the wall. “He had a gun.”

Steve checks a couple rooms, floorboards creaking no matter how quiet he tries to be. His heart’s still racing. It leads him to the staircase.

And Eddie’s right there, just a few steps down.

There’s the faint screech of a car driving away.

Eddie looks up at him. He’s standing obliquely, clinging to the bannister. His eyes shine in the dark, and Steve can just barely make out the evidence of bruises and cuts all across his face.

“He’s gone,” Eddie says with such relief.

I’ll kill him, Steve thinks numbly.

”I, um. I had to run,” Eddie continues, almost like he’s defending himself. “He—he wouldn’t listen, man. The kids, I… I couldn’t let him—”

“They’re fine,” Steve says, talks right over Eddie’s answering sigh, “we should go back up. Check on them.”

A pause.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Sure. Think I—think I just need a second.”

“Okay.”

Eddie smiles. It’s the worst thing Steve has ever seen.

“Did it work?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his throat tight. The word is ash on his tongue. “Yeah, it worked. It’s finished.”

“Good.” Eddie inhales. “And you’ll—you’ll tell my uncle, right? Tell him I didn’t kill Chrissy.”

“Tell him yourself,” Steve snaps.

But Eddie’s shaking his head. Steve can visibly see the adrenaline draining from him: his arms shaking as his grip on the bannister falters.

“Nah, man,” Eddie says, his voice thick and wet with tears.

“Stop fucking crying,” Steve says, instantly ashamed as the words slip out—fear rendering him sharp and mean; Eddie’s hand slips, and he turns, “Oh my God,” Steve says uselessly, “Oh my God, Eddie,” because it’s not a dawning horror really, more a realisation that they’ve both been putting off.

Maybe Steve has known all along.

He gets hold of Eddie before he can fall, mutters, “Here, I’ve got—Jesus, just lie down.”

“No, I don’t—” Eddie kicks out aimlessly, panicking, “I don’t wanna lie down, I don’t wanna lie down.”

Steve ignores him. Presses down on Eddie’s abdomen, hands already slick with blood.

Eddie is hyperventilating. He keeps saying it, “I don’t wanna lie down,” until it devolves into just, “Steve, Steve, I don’t want to,” until it doesn’t sound like he’s talking about lying down at all.

“You won’t,” Steve says, “you won’t, Eddie, just—push down, okay? You’ve got to—here, here, just push—”

Eddie’s hands are slack in his, and as Steve pushes against him, harder, harder, he cries out, breathing so shallow, so quick, too quick, “I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, “I’m sorry, Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

He thinks Eddie must be in too much pain to understand—his body still spasming, still weakly fighting against Steve’s pressure.

But then he feels Eddie’s hand move, loosely clasp around his wrist.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, still crying, but Steve can hear him smiling somehow, fuck, how can he even—?, “hey, S-Steve, it’s okay. Just—just want to go home.” He’s rambling, almost incoherent, “It’s not that far, it’s—take me home, please, please, can you take me home, just—”

“I will,” Steve lies. “We need to fix this first, okay? Eddie, are you listening? Then we can…”

He trails off at the sight of Eddie looking up at him, his eyes so big, so full of life, and Steve doesn’t understand the expression on his face, doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look like this; and he wants Eddie to explain it to him, just wants him to talk, wants to…

I want to tell him, Steve thinks nonsensically.

“Steve Harrington,” Eddie murmurs, like he’s savouring Steve’s name. “You’re so…”

But Steve will never find out what he is, the rest of the sentence lost to a pained gasp.

“Don’t talk,” Steve says. Hates how harsh he sounds. “Eddie, just. Stay.”

Eddie smiles through blood. “I think I could’ve loved you.”

Steve hears movement from way above, a door slamming open, Robin and Nancy’s voices filtering down, still too far away to understand.

He could keep talking. Keep talking to Eddie.

But he knows.

The front door opens. Erica tears through it, screaming Lucas’s name, and then she stops in her tracks.

Dustin nearly collides with her from behind. Pulls her back, face slack with horror.

Steve leans over Eddie, desperately trying to shield him from them.

Dustin’s eyes meet Steve’s, over bright with fear; Steve thinks of him freezing in the graveyard, his own panicked shout, call Nancy and Robin!

He doesn’t want it to be too late.

“Call an ambulance,” Steve says, and Dustin’s eyes widen. He doesn’t sound remotely like himself, Steve knows, but he can barely even… Can only say it again, voice breaking horribly, “Call an ambulance!”

Dustin tugs Erica back. They run.

Steve stays right where he is. Looks down, and keeps looking—doesn’t turn away, not for anything, not even when it’s obvious that Eddie’s eyes are fixed and glassy.

He will bear witness to this.

[vettedfundraisergaza]

It's still raining in Gaza

People thought the ceasefire had begun so they returned to find their homes and workplaces

But it's still raining and many have no homes to shelter them from the rain the tents are flooding with water and sinking in the mud

People still have no jobs to earn a living they are surviving on donations

Don't forget the people of Gaza donate to help them

@leclecarchie @tippytanpies @he-butch @mysteriousrainsworld @twinsarekeepers @saturngalore @omega-red @taetheists @bitronic @lunathejaguar @endy-boi @shutterlens @bunny-the-bunny @trivial-writing @zuuz-dot-chr-exe @lopiditty @ftyeonjun @cryingweeb @nextbigaiello @eve-123456 @claydoves @stewieonxbox360 @pickledangel @abyssal-sylph @schizoaffectively @fictionandescapism @thehumanarkle @error-core-animations @butchmagicalboi @dreamicus @lordzannis @tim-the-rat @bi-worm @cantsayidont @mistress--kanzaki @theinsomniacindian @ambidextrousarcher @fresh-bed-old-sheets @virovac @oursapphirestars @fitzfunnymoments @fliptop @ragingbullmode @rodent178 @apocalyptic-dancehall @caseys-soup-corner @whoopsiedaisy20 @squidie-tittie @dreamingamongthestars

@nabulsi @90-ghost @sar-soor @ibtisams @palipunk @soon-palestine @gaza-evacuation-funds @sayruq @appsa @emanalmadhoun8 @hellenic-reconstructionism

[penny00dreadful]

Somebody To Love - Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 AO3

*Professor Farnsworth voice* Good news everyone! It is finished! There'll be one more part after this, I didn't need as many parts/chapters as I originally thought becasue I figured why can't I just have a high word count here? 😅 I should be able to have the final part out soon once I've completed the edits. 🥳🖤

Some tw's for this part: addict thoughts, talks of dieting, addiction recovery.

The delicacy with which Dustin and Max were handling him made Eddie feel like he’d been thrown into an alternate reality. They had the kid gloves on, treating him with so much care, like he was a temperamental ornament ready to shatter at any moment and honestly, he kind of appreciated it. 

People often took one look at him and just assumed he was a tough as nails metalhead drug addict that would spit at them sooner than look at them and like… sometimes they weren’t that far off. 

But he was still human with an infuriatingly soft core and that core was feeling very bruised right now.

He didn’t know exactly what they knew of everything, they were obviously much closer to Steve than they were to him, but he wasn’t really sure how close.

Still, it was nice that they weren’t automatically treating him like dirt for breaking Steve’s heart and then clumsily attempting to sellotape it back together with promises of proving it to him. Maybe that was Steve’s doing. Or maybe they were just more emotionally intelligent than he’d given them credit for.

Chrissy, however, had no such compunctions.

She waltzed into his house at ass o’clock in the morning and shoved a to-go coffee into his hands, knowing well he hadn’t slept a wink, she had been the one up with him on the phone for half the night after all.

“C’mon, Twinkie!” She slapped his ass hard. Way harder than was necessary, in his opinion. “Now’s not a time for moping, now’s a time for action!”

Eddie scowled at her and took a sip before coughing it up and shooting coffee straight out of his nose.

“Jesus fuck!” He gulped back air, barely able to get the words out through the scratching at his throat. “How many espresso shots are in this?!”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” Chrissy dismissed with a wave of her hand.

He had barely managed to get his breath back, standing in the middle of his house in just his ratty old Dragon Ball Z boxers with coffee dripping down his chest when his front door was thrown open with a bang and more people descended on him.

“What the fuck are you guys doing here?”

The Corroded Coffin boys strolled through his house, immediately descending on his kitchen and raiding his cabinets for whatever food Steve constantly kept his house stocked with.

“We heard you finally got your head out of your ass.” Jeff replied, through a mouthful of Honeycombs.

“Hey! Those are mine- Wait. You knew?”

“Dude, everyone knew.” Grant had commandeered his chocolate Yoo-Hoo, cracking the lid off easily.

Eddie felt his stomach drop. “Everyone?”

“Everyone.” Gareth emphasised, knowing exactly whose wrath Eddie was now fearing.

“Shit. Does he know? What happened yesterday?”

Chrissy nodded. “I called him. He’s in the air.”

“You fucking traitor!” He shouted, pointing his finger at her. “He’s going to kill me!”

She just waved her hand at him. “Go get dressed. We’ve got work to do.”

Eddie mumbled and grumbled but did as he was told, knocking back the rest of the poisonous coffee she had provided him. When he arrived back downstairs it was like walking into the middle of an intervention, even though he had started the process himself.

He was going to get off the drugs, he was going to stop drinking. He was no longer going to be sleeping around, obviously, but he was also going to go to a private medical clinic for a number of tests. Just to make sure he hadn’t picked anything up in between previous testing. He was going to keep smoking, because god-damn it he needed something.

The rest of that day was spent with Dustin, Chrissy and the Corroded Coffin boys scraping through every square inch of his house, searching for his various stashes of drugs and alcohol while Max watched him like a hawk.

Chrissy pulled away some pills taped to the bottom of a decorative pot that sat on top of one of his upper cabinets and Eddie was pretty sure he’d never seen that pot in his life before. Never even looked at it, let alone hid shit using it. It was the ugliest fucking pot he’d ever seen, why was it in his house? Honestly he’d forgotten half the places they pulled a handle of vodka or a baggie of powder out of. 

He wasn’t an addict, he didn’t consider himself an addict but he just used them more as an aid to get him through the day. He wasn’t an addict. 

He used them because he wanted to, not because he needed to.

Except.

Except now that he was faced with the reality that there’d be none of it left in the house, and he’d be monitored very closely by all of them so he couldn’t break and go out and get a fix… it had his anxiety skyrocketing through the roof and he almost asked them to stop multiple times. 

But each time he did, he remembered the defeat and heartbreak on Steve’s face and he… he just had to keep pushing forward. 

As they went from room to room, Max seemed to have some kind of sixth sense. Sitting there in her tailored business suit, red hair in a high pony, leaning over towards him with her elbows on her knees. Whenever he knew where something was stashed and the guys skimmed over it or missed it, she called out to them, telling them to look again without taking her eyes off him.

“How the hell are you doing that?” He asked.

“I had a troubled upbringing.” Max replied with a flat tone of voice.

They’d been at it for hours by the time he called for a fucking breather. All of this was exhausting. The stress was eating at his stomach. Eddie was in his back garden, trying to chill the fuck out with a cigarette when he heard the door open behind him.

“Boy.” The voice that came from behind him was heavy and stern, like Eddie’s own personal Kratos had descended and Eddie froze like a rabbit caught in a trap.

He turned slowly, hoping that someone else, anyone else was around to help take the pressure off but they all seemed to have scattered, the cowards.

“Wayne!” He tried to inject as much joy and lightness into his voice as he got to his feet but the man just continued to stare down at him with a raised eyebrow and his arms crossed, towering over him like a monument of parental disappointment.

Quick as a flash Wayne’s hand shot out and slapped him over the back of the head, not too hard, but hard enough to let Eddie know he wasn’t happy, as if that had ever been in doubt. “What did you do to that young man?”

“You can’t hit me! I’m in recovery!”

Wayne slapped him again.

“I’m fixing it!”

“You better be. I like that Steve kid. He’s good for you.”

Eddie slumped, dropping his cigarette butt on the ground and trudging over to his uncle, pressing his forehead into his collarbone. “I know.”

Wayne nodded and pulled him in close for a hug.

“I’m fixing it.” Eddie said again, quieter this time. 

“Good.” Wayne rubbed his hand up and down Eddie back before pulling away. “We’ll get this sorted.” He placed his hands on either side of Eddie’s face and gave him a light squeeze. “Now pick up that butt, I didn’t teach you to litter.”

For all his whining and grumbling and absolute terror of the man, it was a big help having Wayne around. Of course it was, how could it not be. Though he’d never doubted Wayne for a second, facing up to the consequences of his actions had never been something Eddie was particularly eager to do.

Case in point, involving Chrissy was maybe a mistake. 

Because she was, like, sporty and shit. And she kept dragging him out of bed in the early hours of the morning once the worst of everything was out of his system. 

She’d force him into the gym room that came with the house and Eddie was pretty sure he’d never set foot in it before. But all the stuff there had clear signs of being used regularly and it was with a strange mix of sadness and glee that he figured Steve had probably been the one using it all along.

“Why am I here?”

“To get some endorphins into you without using drugs.”

Soulmate his fucking ass. 

Chrissy was no less than a drill sergeant and no amount of whining and bitching would stop her from making him do stretches and get on the treadmill and god he fucking hated it. Any one who enjoyed exercising was now solidly listed under ‘psychopath’ in his brain. 

Chrissy had even convinced Max to get her husband, some kind of sports health something or other, to put together a meal plan for him that had him eating shit like broccoli and apples and brown fucking rice.

Eddie did not throw a temper tantrum by day five of that diet, about a week and a half into this whole ‘getting his shit together so he could prove to Steve he was a competent human’ thing. Definitely not, even though his muscles ached and he wanted to stuff an entire Dunkin worth of Donuts into his mouth and get stupidly ridiculously high.

“Fuck off and leave me alone, Chrissy.” He snapped one morning from underneath his bedsheets. He was fucking tired, he was fucking sore and last he checked sugar wasn’t one of the addictions he was supposed to be giving up so why the fuck wasn’t he allowed to have any?

Chrissy crossed her arms. “No.”

“What’s even the point of this anyway? How the hell is the fucking broccoli and the fucking treadmill proving to Steve that I’m gonna stick around?”

“Because you’re improving yourself, taking care of yourself. Staying away from the drugs and alcohol and sex orgies and showing him you’re trying.” She sighed, softening her voice. “Didn’t you tell him you’d try every day for him?”

“Whatever.” Eddie grumbled, pulling the covers up over his head. “It’s a bed day. I’m staying in bed. Don’t try to drag me out, I will bite you.”

He could hear Chrissy leave and he knew the attitude was unnecessary, she was his rock in all of this, but he just wasn’t in the fucking mood to do anything apart from wallow.

He had dozed back off to sleep until he was awoken by someone coming up the stairs. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a tall handsome man with fantastic shoulders standing in his doorway with a box of fucking donuts in his hand.

What kind of sugar-craving wet dream was this?

The guy lifted his hand with a pleasant smile. “Hey-”

“Sorry, man. I’m off the market.” Eddie slurred in some kind of delirious half-asleep haze before his brain finally caught up with him and he realised that’s probably not what was happening right now.

The guy burst out in a short laugh. “Yeah, me too. I’m Max’s husband, Lucas.”

Eddie’s entire face went scarlet. “Oh fuck, don’t tell her I said that. She’ll cut my balls off.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said with an easy smile as he held the box out and shook it slightly. “I brought these for you.”

Lucas handed the donuts to him and even though Eddie should be wary of the quite literal candy from a stranger (although, was candy really the correct term?), the allure of fried sugar was too much.

“Aren’t you supposed to be having me eat healthy?” Eddie asked, practically diving face first into the box and stuffing as much as he could into his mouth at once. “Minoththuppothsbeowmaheawthmfifthnssjurmy?” 

Lucas blinked at him and Eddie forced himself to swallow the large lump of fried dough, but not without sucking on his fingers first. “Am I not supposed to be on a health and fitness journey? Or whatever you,” he wiggled his fingers at him, “active types call it.”

"Don’t get me wrong, you still need to eat right and exercise but the meal plans I write up are usually for athletes at the top of their game. So the fact that sugar and some fats never made it in just never occurred to me. And no offence to you dude, but you are no athlete.” He smiled and tapped the box. “Everything in moderation, right?”

Things began to even out after that. The boys started to travel between Eddie’s house and their own homes, checking in on him less and less the better he got. Finally getting to spend some well deserved time with their families rather than babysitting their problematic frontman. 

Wayne still stuck around. Eddie’s literal rock in everything he’d ever done in his life ever and Chrissy was no longer riding him so hard about getting the endorphins pumping. 

Honestly video games could do the same thing for him but she refused to accept that.

When Steve walked back through his front door some two weeks after he’d left for a second time, he took Eddie by surprise all over again, manifesting behind him like some kind of ghost and scaring the ever loving shit out of him.

But he didn’t throw himself at Steve this time. 

He didn’t have that right anymore. 

The ball was in Steve’s court and he would be the one that would decide just how fast they moved from now on.

He noticed the difference in Eddie almost immediately because of course he did. Telling him off hand that he looked good, healthy. That he hadn’t looked like that since their second studio album blew up, which caused Eddie to blush furiously and hide his face behind his hair like a fucking schoolgirl and not someone who had appeared in fucking ‘Playgirl’, which he had.

Usually in his down time he would have been spending it hanging out with Steve and his weird little found family. And with Wayne, flying in between LA and Indiana and getting to remember what it felt like to just be a normal person again. 

But it had also been the time Eddie would let loose and go hard into everything could. The kinds of things he couldn’t manage when on tour. 

Days long sex parties, kink clubs, high quality drug dens, week long getaways to someone’s private island or luxury yacht that probably collectively took ten years off his life every time he went.

But they were a thing of the past now.

Eddie found he was kind of enjoying the slower summer getting clean afforded him. He’d started to enjoy the things he used to love so much, but lost over time. 

Reading, losing himself in a writing haze, feeling the frantic passion of ideas and creativity overtaking him, and all with a clear head this time. 

Days spent in his basement studio no longer fueled by cocaine and other stimulants, now only fueled by caffeine. 

Before, he’d be able to go a couple of days awake in his writing haze but caffeine was no substitute for coke. 

As a result of that, being under the influence of only caffeine, sugar and nicotine he usually ended up crashing on the couch down there before he even realised he was falling asleep. Sometimes he’d wake up with handwritten pages stuck to his cheek or forehead, sometimes he’d wake up with the mother of all back aches and stiff fingers. But sometimes he’d wake up with a blanket thrown over him, the ghost of a hand in his hair and a strawberry frappuccino waiting for him on the coffee table.

The downside of being lucid and sober was that Eddie was now painfully aware of his shithead behaviour over the last number of years and it constantly threatened to push him back into a spiral again. 

He was actually mentally present for the first time in he didn’t know how long for a meeting with the label executives to discuss a timeline for the next album and tour. He had no idea just how much Steve had been doing for him, especially when it came to this. 

Making decisions on his behalf that always benefited him far more than anything he’d have been able to negotiate himself, making excuses for why he was so out of it all the time that everyone could see through. But the execs always let it go because Corroded Coffin were one of the labels biggest bands, on of their biggest money earners and continued to be, no matter how fucked up Eddie was.

And it wasn't just meetings with execs he now had to deal with. The people refused to get the god-damn memo. The invites to all the debauched shit he usually took part in just kept coming and people actually started getting defensive whenever he refused.

No matter what he told them. 

He told them he didn’t want to go. He was healing. He was off the shit that would be shared around like pass the parcel. They were down right offended to hear it. Like Eddie was somehow telling them all he was better than them by holding up a mirror towards their own actions which… maybe, yeah actually.

The only invite he had accepted was a charity fundraiser for queer homeless youth. But only with a firm stance that he would not be going to any kind of after party, so don’t even bother asking.

But it would be fine. 

There’d be alcohol and probably some drugs and probably some people trying to get into his pants there but Chrissy and Steve would also be there, all but chained to his side. Gareth, Jeff and Grant would be taking up the mantle of schmoozing so it would be fine.

Plus, he was close to hitting his ninety days so he was definitely stronger than he had been at the start, right?

Yeah.

Either way, the alcohol, the drugs, the horny people… it would be the kind of shit that would be unavoidable in his line of work. So he’d have to get used to temptation being thrown in his face regardless and this would be a nice entry level experiment.

“You sure you want to do this?” Steve asked him, with an arm around his shoulder. 

The return to normal touch had been gradual, happening over the last few months and it was doing wonderful things for his nerves right now. The three of them were sitting in the back of the big fancy car, stalling.

Steve flashed him a cheeky grin. “We can leave and head to the McDonalds drive-thru right now if you want.”

Eddie smiled and stopped twisting his rings around his fingers. This was an overly fancy event, probably requiring white gloves as part of the dress code but Eddie wasn’t going to start worrying about expectations like that now. 

They knew who they’d invited. 

“I’m fine. It’s fine.” He tipped his head over until he was leaning against Steve’s shoulder and laced his fingers with Chrissy’s gloved hand. “Let’s just get this over with. Maybe we can leave before I turn back into a pumpkin, though?”

Steve smiled. “Sure thing.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of Eddie’s head and smoothly exited the car. 

It was definitely not the most intimate thing they’d ever done together in their decade long friendship but definitely the most intimate thing that they’d done in the last three months and Eddie’s stomach exploded with butterflies.

“Cinderella doesn’t turn back into a pumpkin at midnight.” Chrissy said, shaking out her large pale pink dress as she stepped out of the car after Eddie. “Are you calling yourself the carriage?”

“Yeah.” He offered her his elbow. “I have plenty of carriage.”

“Twinkie,” she shook her head, “you have no carriage. It’s a tiny little fuzzy peach butt.”

“Excuse you, it’s a pumpkin!”

She rolled her eyes and gave his ass a little pinch out of view of anyone. “It is not.”

“It’s really not, Eds.” Steve put in with a not so subtle up-and-down look.

“This is a betrayal of the highest order,” he pointed at them, “and the both of you are terrible people.”

Overall, things went pretty well. 

He didn’t really have to talk to anyone, the Corroded Coffin boys as previously discussed between them, were dealing with the majority of boring ass rich people conversation and Steve had enough experience from his upbringing with his parents to deflect the most persistent of wannabe schmoozers. Eddie had been sticking only to mocktails (his favourite would always be a Shirley Temple but they had some strawberry thing which was essentially just strawberry limeade but it was fucking delicious so who gave a fuck) and some really nice non-alcoholic champagne that honestly tasted better than the regular champagne without the tang of alcohol in it.

Steve had to lead someone away, almost with a hand at their elbow when they just kept pushing for conversation. Chrissy was in a gentle discussion with a new young artist who looked like she was about to vibrate out of her skin from fear. And Eddie felt a shadow descend into the chair next to him.

He turned, still trying to suck the last dregs of his Shirley Temple out of the bottom of his glass.

The guy who sat down looked vaguely familiar, in that kind of memory signal way. His subconscious definitely knew they’d crossed paths before but that could mean anything. Maybe he’d collaborated with him in the past? Maybe he was an old supplier? Maybe he’d slept with him, who knew?

“Hi!” The guy said with a smile and dark bedroom eyes.

Well, okay.

He slid a drink towards him, cold and beading with condensation and the most beautiful amber colour.

Eddie swallowed, unable to take his eyes off of it. He picked up the edge of the white tablecloth, using it to push the drink away. He didn’t even want to risk touching it.

“I’m clean.” Eddie pretty firmly kept the now empty Shirley Temple glass up, still sucking the straw around the bottom, trying to keep a barrier between them because no thank you. Not tonight. Not ever, anymore, if life worked out the way he wanted.

The guy nodded and smiled again, a little condescending, as though Eddie’s attempt to stay sober was cute. “I've been watching you. Trying to find an opportunity to say hi.” He scoffed lightly with a raised eyebrow. An attempt at an inside joke only one of them was in on. “Your bodyguard’s got a pretty tight grip on you though. Glad he finally gave you a chance to breathe.”

“Steve’s not my bodyguard.”

Even though he could be. Has definitely had to act like it before. More than once. 

God, Eddie was a shit.

“No? He’s certainly acting like it. Won’t let anyone near you. Seems a little possessive if you ask me.” The guy scooted a little further forward and started brushing his leg up and down Eddie’s calf and Eddie retracted almost immediately.

“That’s going to be a solid no from me. I’m off the market for the foreseeable future.”

The guy couldn’t hide his surprise quickly enough. “Seriously? Someone get in your head about it?” The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smug grin. “Couldn’t stop thinking of a particular night? I couldn’t stop thinking of it either. I heard you stopped making the rounds after.”

Eddie could do nothing but blink at the absolute balls on this guy. But apparently this was a one sided conversation because the guy was still talking.

“I was hoping you’d call me again.” He attempted to nudge Eddie’s knee with his hand but Eddie pulled back again with a hard glare. The guy scoffed again. “Unless, of course, your phone privileges have been taken away by the help.” He laughed at his own pathetic, mean excuse for a joke. “I think we could be quite good together, Eddie.”

“I don’t fucking think so.”

The guy pushed out his bottom lip and batted his big eyelashes at him, like Eddie’s rejection was performative, like he was playing hard to get. “Awh. That’s too bad. You marked me up so good last time.”

It was only then that it finally clicked for him. “You’re the guy from the ‘Sucker’ video.”

The guy's bravado faltered, clearly not expecting to be forgotten so easily.

“Obviously.” He bit out.

He was the last guy Eddie had slept with before everything had happened.

Steve had shown him out and left on his vacation almost immediately after.

He’d been so upset.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Eddie hissed, finally setting his glass down.

The guy blinked with a curl at his lip. “Who?”

“Steve.”

“Oh, him?” The guy laughed, short and sharp and mean. “Not my fault if he wasn’t ready to hear some harsh truths.” He shrugged. “I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t deserve to hear. Practically did you a favour, by the way.” The guy rolled his eyes. “Just had to get it in his head that he didn’t have a shot, shooting above his pay grade and if he couldn’t handle it he should take a long walk off a short pier. Even if you did let him weasel his way back in-”

There was something shoved hard into Eddie’s chest and he only had a second to register what was happening before he had to catch Chrissy around the waist and pull her back to stop her clawing this guy's eyes out. 

The purse she’d pushed at him fell to the floor as Eddie was jerked forward, using his all of his weak as shit strength to keep a firm grip on Chrissy who was always so strong with her hidden jock prowess.

“Jesus Christ, put a leash on her, would you?” The guy had fired himself backwards, nearly toppling himself out of his seat.

“You motherf-! Edward, let me go!” Chrissy was swiping at the guy with one arm while the other dug into Eddie’s arm, trying to loosen his grip. 

Before he could consider whether the spectacle of Chrissy Cunningham in her pink meringue dress absolutely wrecking this guys shit would be worth the entertainment enough to let her free, a wall of bodies planted themselves firmly in her way.

“I think it’s time we head out, don’t you?” Jeff asked leaning back, trying to avoid Chrissy’s hands.

“Yeah,” Eddie huffed. Jesus this girl was strong. “Yeah, maybe!”

The four of them were able to manhandle Chrissy, who was still spitting and cursing, shooing her out of the front door. Eddie glanced back and saw Steve leaning down towards the guy with the sharpest smile he’d ever seen, muttering into his ear ‘He doesn’t even remember your name’ before turning and following the five of them out.

There was silence between the six of them outside, save for the sound of Chrissy’s heavy breathing, as they waited for the car to come around.

They all bundled themselves inside and once the door slammed shut Eddie exploded.

“Okay, what the hell?” 

The boys were looking at him with wary expressions, Chrissy was wide eyed and a little flushed and Steve just cocked an eyebrow, well used to Eddie’s tantrums after so long. But that wasn’t what this was.

“Him? Him? I slept with him? He’s not even cute, why the hell didn’t anyone stop me?!” He pointed at each of them in turn, not even bothering to skip out Steve, the fucker would only tease him about it later.

The car started moving and Eddie took a second to send a silent apology to the very nice chauffeur, Marlon, who really shouldn’t have to be dealing with their nonsense.

“Twinkie,” Chrissy huffed, ripping her white opera gloves off, “the amount of times I have tried to slap the dick out of your hand and get you to listen to me-”

Eddie squealed, high and outraged. But he couldn’t even stay mad because Steve was doubled over cackling like a witch on her broomstick and the boys were poking fun at him while literally poking him in the sides and all he could do was slump down in his seat and pout at them with crossed arms.

They did end up going through the McDonalds drive-thru after all.

So... y'all wanna see Eddie's Playgirl cover? 👀 (minors dni)

That magnificent artwork was done by the supremely talented @sporelium and I am in fucking awe of him, like holy shit. I saw it when it was originally posted and I have not been able to stop thinking about it. Thank you so much for letting me reference it here. 😘🖤

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 AO3

@lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring, @child-of-cthulhu, @sweetwaterangel, @anaibis, @katytheinspiredworkaholic, @littlewildflowerkitten, @hallucinatedjosten, @estrellami-1, @gregre369, @stxrcrossed186, @novelnovella, @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme, @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere, @thesuninyaface, @messrs-weasley

[barclaysangel]

Chucky Core 4 as My Babysitter’s a Vampire Core 4

Here it is! Requested by the awesome @austin-chr-2-0 . It as originally gonna be kinda a gif mood board, the background was moving. Buuuuut Tumblr couldn’t handle the file size and when I resized it to fit, it was coming out too blurry. So I just changed the background. But I hope you like it because this crossover AU is super cool!

Oh, and Merry Christmas :)

Devon Evans as Sarah Fox

Jake Wheeler as Ethan Morgan

Junior Wheeler as Benny Weir

Lexy Cross as Erica Jones

[burnxngslash]

If it weren’t for his father’s tail and his transformation Gohan would have probably panicked to the point he might have found it HARD TO BREATHE. But he need to help Bulma and that also fueled his bravery. His ears continues to hear Bulma’s voice, guiding them into the higher caverns..staying here with his father gave him time to think..Bulma..was heading DEEPER  down into the depths wasn’t she? 

━━   ❝   𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧-   ❞   Gohan gasps at the realization, but then WHOSE voice was he following and what beasts were growling like that?? They sure didn’t sound like dinosaurs. However before he could have put more thought into it one of these creatures lunges out of the darkness and towards his father hoping to get a bite out of his flesh.

( The creature in question LOOKED human, even shaped like one, but incredibly malnourished. Its limbs were longer, it possessed claws and THIS ONE wore the skull of a triceratops on its head. This was one of the beasts that cut itself from the herd and grew impatient.)

@burnxngslash Terror Lurks Within

It was odd, they'd come here to get away from all the chaos but if anything it had felt like they'd found more, it had taken a few days, noticeable amongst all ki sensitive beings that something was affecting them. It hadn't gone unnoticed by him either and while able to he'd gotten many who weren't fighters out and into a safer spot. Especially with the noises his heightened senses could pick up on night. Like something kept grinding and rumbling deep beneath the earth's surface. It left him uneasy, tail tightening around his waist. Everything became much more serious within the passing days, he hadn't exactly agreed with Bulma deciding to go down into the mines upon discovery. Something felt wrong. However training with Gohan had made him nearly forget. Until the scream ripped through the air-

"Bulma!?- GOHAN WAIT!" A burst of speed, muscles tense and rushing to catch up to his son, he grows more and more weary the further they go. The atmosphere is tense, his heart hammering against his rib cage. Catching up to his son he stops, skidding to a stop really to avoid knocking his poor son over who backs up into his leg, one single word tugging at his heart strings and at something more fiercer. The urge to protect. He gazes down to his son before his tail curls around the young boy, pulling him closer as he crouches down. Already channeling super saiyan, to provide light and because it felt necessary. Even if it was a momentary struggle to obtain the transformation. The rage in his heart was more than strong enough, to find Bulma, to protect his son from whatever was luring them in. To keep the others safe from this place. To figure out what was causing all the problems. He needed it right now, especially given they came down here without a light source. They'd hopefully find one eventually.

"Gohan. Listen to me very carefully. Stay by my side no matter what you hear. We can't afford to split up." He rises back to his feet, tail wrapped firmly around his son as he kept his hands free, each step is careful, hands aching with the urge to fight. He ignores the blood lust, the urge for battle. Instead of the tunnel where he can hear the voice, he picks the other one to travel. The way the growls slowly fades proves his theory right. And Bulma probably wouldn't have gone that way. It led more upwards towards the surface and she'd been adamant on going down and seeing what was causing everything.

[adamfamilysblog]

It's the moments of death when trucks loaded with aid enter. Flare shells are fired, followed by artillery shells being fired at people. Most of those who are in the front die. Then the Merkava fires at people. Those who lie on the ground live, and those who stand are shot in the head, chest, or legs. All this for a bag of flour to feed your children. I reached the truck, I carried a bag, but I couldn't lift it on my back because of the crowding. I fell to the ground and could barely catch my breath because of the number of people on top of me. This time I saw death very close to me for a bag of flour After half an hour, I regained my strength and left without the bag. Nothing remained. I had my share of bruises and injuries. Death is at the aid.The same event is happening at American distribution points. We need food and drink, guys, and to live with dignity.

@strangeauthor

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@star-and-space-ace

@rainbowywitch

@marscollection @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @boyvained-blog @ammonitetheseaserpent @girlinafairytale

@timelightbox

@appsa

@half-empty-orbitals

@seasnipper

@gaza-strip

@akajustmerry

@ree-duh

@neptunerings

@dlxxv-vetted-donations

@sayruq

@malcriada

@sar-soor

@northgazaupdates2 @dirhwangdaseul

@memingursa

@schoolhater

@toesuckingoctober @waskuyecaozu

@lapithae

@ryo-yamada

@opencommunion

@el-shab-hussein

@paper-mario-wiki

@wayneradiotv

@worm-suggestion

@weirdmarioenemies @wolfertinger666

@wis-art

@wingwaver

@emil

@rickybabyboy

@redbuddi

@rednines @itwashotwestayedinthewater @prisonhannibal

@punkitt-is-here

@papasmoke

@amygdalae

@pitbolshevik

@annabelle--cane

@anarchblr

@sporesgalaxy

@drukhari

@dailymonkiekid

@danijaci

@hotvampireadjacent @justsomeantifas @kurtwagnermorelikekurtwagnerd @kibumkim

@klapollo

@longseasons @lesbianchemicalplant @zvaigzdelasas

@beetledrink

@neechees

@marxism-transgenderism

@charlott2n

@valtsv

@nabulsi

@gaza-evacuation-funds

@rickybabyboy

@komsomolka

@prisonhannibal @hotvampireadjacent

@r0zeclawz

@marxism-transgenderism @teaboot

@boobieteriat

@chokulit

@pitbolshevik

@punkitt-is-here

@b0tster

@vampiricvenus

@ankle-beez

@remindertoclick

@dyrdeer

@omegaversereloaded @sawasawako

@feluka

@postanagramgenerator @memingursa

@certifiedsexed

@spacebeyonce

@dailyquests

@neechees

@beserkerjewel

@beetledrink

@spaghettioverdose @specialmouse

@tlirsgender

@grox

@minmos

@paparoach

@jackalopescruff

@slimetony

@redbuddi

@liberalsarecool

@charlott2n

@juney-blues

@aflo

@skunkes

@sar-soor

@akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @thatdiabolicalfeminist

@sayruq

@tortiefrancis

@tsaricides

@riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisectionmoth @belleandsaintsebastian @kordeliiius

@raelyn-dreams

@troythecatfish

@the-bastard-king

@4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2

@90-ghost

@skatehan

@awetistic-things

@baby-girl-aaron-dessner @variantsofblue

@thedigitalbard

@socalgal

@paper-mario-wiki

@nabulsi

@lesbianmaxevans @buttercupagere

@malcriada

@3000s

@paparoach

@neptunerings

@newporters

@virovac

@postanagramgenerator @alivehouse

@meshugenist @mangocheesecakes @wizardarchetypes

@gaza-evacuation-funds

@rununcal

@vampiricvenus

@necronatural

@sealsdaily

@alittleannihilati0n

@frog-squad

@bearhole

@omegaversereloaded

@punkitt-is-here

@skunkes

@valtsv

@wolfertinger666

@paper-mario-wiki

@nyancrimew @spongebobssquarepants @sabertoothwalrus

@90-ghost

@komsomolka

@sawasawako

@hotvampireadjacent @certifiedsexed @isuggestforcefem

@3000s

@chokulit

@ankle-beez

@pitbolshevik

@pissvortex

@prisonhannibal

@apas-95

@neechees

@memingursa

@afro-elf

@vampiricvenus

@turtletoria

@marxism-transgenderism @beetledrink

@bevsi

@beserkerjewel

@feluka

@i-am-a-fish

@spacebeyonce

@b0nkcreat

@11thsense

@boobieteriat

@skaianbruja

@bugnitesblog

@mar64ds

@fricklefracklefloof

@unwinni3

@mloking

@prodivorce @whateveroursoulsaremadeoff @hehemechief

@cultreslut

@halfbloodfanboy

@pontaoski

@elbiotipo

@infoplaza

@selkiebrides

@localcoffeeaddict

@keepinitwrd @bloodandgutsyippee

@iqinitials @wherethatoldtraingoes2 @butchniqabi

@appsa

@frigidwife

@vetted-gaza-funds @gazagfmboost @opencommunion

@beserkerjewel @deepspaceboytoy @rhubarbspring

@eryuditely

@lesbianmaxevans

@malcriada

@turian

@sxpph0

@rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world

@neptunerings

@dykesbat

@halalgirlmeg

@userpeggycarter

@minosbull

@hamstertross

@timetravellingkitty @meaganfoster

@briarhips

@vakarians-babe

@mahoushojoe

@rhubarbspring

@schoolhater

@pcktknife

@transmutationisms @sawasawako

@ot3

@aces-and-angels

@terroristiraqis @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria

@akajustmerry

@feluka

@tortiefrancis

@flower-tea-fairies

@tsaricides

@riding-with-the-wild-hunt

@mangocheesecakes

@kyra45

@marnota

@7bitter

@tortiefrancis

@visenyasdragon @belleandsaintsebastian

[unwelcome-ozian]

THEORETICAL APPROACHES AND TREATMENT MODELS (listed alphabetically)

Practitioners who are unfamiliar with dissociative disorders or to working with DID may prefer to start with texts that are based on their core models or familiar ways of working. Survivors can also expect to come across and be offered a variety of theoretical approaches, summarised below, although none have the monopoly on healing. It is more important that professional help is trauma-informed and based on a collaborative and companionable approach to finding what is best for each individual’s journey.

Attachment-based Psychotherapy – focuses on relationships and bonds between people. It emphasises the developing child’s need to form a healthy emotional bond with at least one primary caregiver for positive social and emotional development.

Doing Psychotherapy: A Trauma and Attachment-Informed Approach, (2020) by Robin Shapiro

Nurturing Children: From Trauma to Growth Using Attachment Theory, Psychoanalysis and Neurobiology, (2019), by Graham Music (See description in Working With children & Adolescents)

Trauma and the Avoidant Client: Attachment-Based Strategies for Healing, (2010), & Trauma and the Struggle to Open Up, (2019) by Robert Muller

Working with the Developmental Trauma of Childhood Neglect, (2022), by Ruth Cohn

Cognitive & Behavioural – theories and therapies elaborate the interplay between mind, thought, behaviour and action, and demonstrate how they can provoke emotions and contribute towards the maintenance of problems or towards recovery.

Cognitive Behavioural Approaches to the Understanding and Treatment of Dissociation, (2013) edited by Fiona Kennedy, Helen Kennerley & David Pearson

DBT Skills Training Handouts and Worksheets, Second Edition, (2014) by Marsha Linehan

Reinventing Your Life, (Schema Therapy-updated 2019) by Jeffrey Young & Janet Klosko

The Compassionate-Mind Guide to Recovering from Trauma and PTSD: Using Compassion-Focused Therapy to Overcome Flashbacks, Shame, Guilt, and Fear, (2013), by Deborah Lee & Sophie James

Trauma-Focused ACT: A Practitioner’s Guide to Working with Mind, Body, and Emotion Using Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, (2021), by Russ Harris

Creative Therapies – use arts-based models and interventions, including music, drama, movement, art or play, with support from a trained professional. Individuals of all ages may find them helpful because they address issues and support expression without the need to talk or focus on the physical self.

A Therapeutic Treasure Box for Working with Children and Adolescents with Developmental Trauma, (2017), by Karen Treisman

Trauma and Expressive Arts Therapy, (2020), by Cathy Malchiodi

Integrative Therapy – affirms and blends different models of therapy with consideration given to what works and why.

Dissociation and the Dissociative Disorders, (2009), by Paul Dell & John O’Neil (Eds)

Mindsight: Transform Your Brain with the New Science of Kindness, (2011) by Daniel Siegel

Neurobiology and Treatment of Traumatic Dissociation: Towards an Embodied Self, (2008) by Ulrich Lanius, Sandra Paulsen & Frank Corrigan

Working with Voices and Dissociative Parts – A Trauma-informed approach, (2019) by Dolores Mosquera. (See description in Treatment Books)

Internal Family Systems Therapy – elaborates the relationships between parts of self or psyche and demonstrates how separation or division between parts can cause suffering.

Internal Family Systems Skills Training Manual: Trauma-Informed Treatment for Anxiety, Depression, PTSD & Substance Abuse, (2017) by Frank Anderson, Richard Schwartz & Martha Sweezy

Internal Family Systems Therapy, 2nd Edition, (2019) by Richard Schwarz & Martha Sweezy

Mindfulness – a meditative practice that reconnects individuals to the present moment; purposefully drawing attention and focus to moment-by-moment, internal and/or external awareness.

Dissociation, Mindfulness, and Creative Meditations: Trauma-Informed Practices to Facilitate Growth, (2017), by Christine Forner

Trauma-Sensitive Mindfulness: Practices for Safe and Transformative Healing, (2018), by David Treleaven & Willoughby Britton

Polyvagal Theory – explains the importance and value of interpersonal neurobiology in recovery from trauma, and the effect of trauma on the body and the brain. The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation, (2011) by Stephen Porges The Polyvagal Theory in Therapy, (2018) by Deb Dana

Psychoanalytic – theories and therapies that aim to treat mental disorders and distress by investigating the interaction of conscious and unconscious mind.

The Dissociative Mind in Psychoanalysis: Understanding and Working with Trauma, (2016), by Elizabeth Howell & Sheldon Itzkowitz

Trauma, Dissociation and Multiplicity: Working on Identity and Selves, (2010) edited by Valerie Sinason

Psychodynamic – based on the theories and principles of psychoanalysis, but with an increased emphasis on an individual’s relationship with their external world; seeks to understand conscious and unconscious processes that influence emotions, thoughts and behaviour patterns.

Easy Ego State Interventions: Strategies for Working with Parts, (2016) by Robin Shapiro

Somatic (Body-Oriented) Resources – recognise that trauma and its effects are stored within the body, and cause dysregulation and restriction to movement and/or emotion.

EMDR Eye Movement, Desensitisation & Reprocessing – a psychotherapeutic approach that uses visual, auditory or tactile stimuli bilaterally, (from side-to-side of the body), in a rhythmical pattern, to enable reprocessing of memory and its effects. Care needs to be exercised with RAMCOA survivors, since similar techniques have been used in some survivors’ abuse, and EMDR may prove triggering or breach the therapeutic relationship.

EMDR and Dissociation: The Progressive Approach, (2012) by Anabel Gonzalez & Dolores Mosquera

EMDR Toolbox: Theory and Treatment of Complex PTSD and Dissociation, 2nd Edn, (2018), by James Knipe

Sensorimotor Psychotherapy – an evolving “body-oriented talking therapy”, helps individuals stabilise, discharge and resolve physiological symptoms of trauma and adverse experiences.

Sensorimotor Psychotherapy: Interventions for Trauma and Attachment, (2015) by Pat Ogden & Janina Fisher

Trauma and the Body, (2006) by Pat Ogden, Kekuni Minton & Clare Pain

Additionally: The Body Remembers Volume 2, (2017) by Babette Rothschild 8 Keys to Safe Trauma Recovery, (2010) by Babette Rothschild

Somatic Experiencing – focuses on the body and perceived body sensations, to express and relieve mental and physical traumatic stress-related conditions.

In an Unspoken Voice, (2010) by Peter Levine

Waking the Tiger, (1997) by Peter Levine

[cloudymistedskies]

Mari accidentally fucks up and sends the roblox giftcard to the mist mansion

(Feat. @theyluvsmilo)

I was rereading “Muichiro’s mansion” by @theyslaydemons and i just felt the sudden need to make this AHAHAHAJW

I might’ve fucked up the chrs but in my defense, Im stupid.

Heres some of my fav parts that i drew

Mari is so O_O core

[convxction]

ooc. because someone is sending me angst (looks at you core) and im catching up on the my s class hunters webtoon ... what if instead of felling g/rima avatar resets time ?? perhaps by accident or same as in the webtoon--krumb and lissa and the others are offed and avatar somehow finds a way to 'wish' they are not dead and viola they are back in time 3 years ago to the plains where they were found. now avatar gotta be LESS suspicious when they know things are about to happen but something about the flow of time correcting its way--same as what l.ucina tried to save emm but in the end she died. maybe avatar tries to fix things but instead makes them more chaotic since 'this is not the right thing to do'. im hooked up on 'some' people remembering the time gap--the 'future' and c/hrom among them. like why do i know this or remember this when it clearly had not happened yet? (not me wanting two chr/oms too in the same body because it was fun seeing two hyunjaes beating yujin in their own ways XD )

[thdramas2]

Alternatives for backing up your files and characters:

Google Photos/Drive (I use this for both images and coding files, and you can upgrade. You start out with 15GB free, 100 GB for $1.99 a month, and 2TB for $9.99 a month)

ImgBB (You can create different albums for each character and make them private for free)

Deviant Art Sta.sh (I suggest this as a temporary solution for those who do not have a lot of files to backup. You get 2GB free and can get up to 50GB for Core/Premium members, but don't give your money to this hell site that supports AI.)

icloud (You get 5GB free, 50GB for $0.99 a month, 200GB for $2.99 a month, 2TB for $9.99 a month, 6TB for $29.99 a month, and 12TB $59.99 a month)

A lot of these are pretty affordable, especially if you have subscriptions for like Hulu or Discord. Get your characters, stories, and coding backed up, folks!

yes but we meant more for downloading the chrs n such without having to do it ourself like that program did

but this is still helpful

[denimbex1986]

'Cillian Murphy, the Irish actor with a striking gaze and immense talent, is finally getting his due thanks to his casting as the lead of Christopher Nolan's recently released Oppenheimer, which is already on its way to becoming a worldwide blockbuster. The film stars Murphy in the titular role of J Robert Oppenheimer, remembered as the father of the atomic bomb for his role in the Manhattan Project. Murphy's performance is being singled out for praise by critics. But Murphy has been a phenomenal actor for a couple of decades. He has just been a little under the radar for most of his career.

Anyway, here are the five best performances of Murphy, starting with Oppenheimer.

Oppenheimer (2023)

Cillian Murphy, in a career-defining performance in his latest film, brings the mysterious and tormented Oppenheimer to life with an almost otherworldly intensity. The portrayal captures the essence of a man torn between his insatiable hunger for discovery and the haunting spectre of the destruction he helps orchestrate. The performance unerringly embodies Oppenheimer as a scientific prodigy haunted by the terrible consequences of his own brilliance — a dichotomy that lays the groundwork for the film's emotional core.

Breakfast on Pluto (2005)

This whimsical and poignant film, directed by Neil Jordan, sees Murphy in the role of Patrick "Kitten" Braden, a transgender woman searching for her true identity in 1970s Ireland and London. With a delicate balance of vulnerability and resilience, Murphy's performance as Kitten is a triumph of empathy and nuance. He effortlessly navigates through the complexities of gender identity and societal acceptance, creating a character that is both enigmatic and endearing. Murphy's ability to infuse Kitten with a profound sense of humanity makes Breakfast on Pluto an emotional and enlightening cinematic gem.

Red Eye (2005)

In this gripping and intense thriller directed by Wes Craven, Cillian Murphy portrays Jackson Rippner, a charming yet sinister hitman. The film follows Lisa Reisert (Rachel McAdams), a hotel manager who finds herself trapped on a red-eye flight with Murphy's character after he reveals his sinister intentions. Red Eye showcases Murphy's ability to portray a chilling antagonist with a magnetic presence. His character's calm demeanor and calculated manipulation create unnerving tension throughout the film. Murphy's performance adds an extra layer of complexity to the psychological cat-and-mouse game, making Red Eye a heart-pounding and memorable cinematic experience.

The Wind That Shakes the Barley (2006)

In this powerful historical drama directed by Ken Loach, Murphy embodies the role of Damien, a young doctor who becomes entangled in the Irish War of Independence against British rule. Set in the early 1920s, the film delves into the tumultuous period of Ireland's struggle for independence and the ensuing Irish Civil War. Murphy's performance is a masterclass in portraying the moral dilemmas faced by a man torn between his duty to his family and his allegiance to his country. With grace and intensity, Murphy delivers a performance that resonates deeply with the audience, breathing life into a pivotal chapter of Irish history.

Peacock (2010)

This lesser-known gem in Cillian Murphy's filmography is a testament to his ability to take on challenging and unconventional roles. Directed by Michael Lander, Peacock revolves around the enigmatic character of John Skillpa, a man leading a double life as both himself and a woman named Emma. Murphy's portrayal of this complex character is a tour de force, capturing the intricacies of John's split personality with astonishing finesse. His ability to convey vulnerability and internal conflict makes Peacock an intriguing and thought-provoking exploration of identity and human nature.'