#gotta keep writing

[feelo-fick]

request doodles on stream in a server :D

[wasabi-gumdrop]

neon glory squad 💖

[catscidr]

// taking care of your dogboy (hsr edition!) //

i. note — sry i havent been posting yall i got a job + ive been working on three cosplays at the same time bc my local con is coming up lmao (´ཀ`」 ∠) however the brainrot never stops. it only takes a break. a little break of approximatively. a month. ish. ......... anyways dog hybrid hsr boys brainrot !!! lmk if we want more of this with more boys •ᴗ• comments and asks are appreciated hehe ii. includes — blade, gepard, boothill and gn!reader iii. cw — slice of life stuff turning into smut, possessive behaviour, overstim, slight dom/sub dynamics, real messy stuff, manhandling. use of the word "hole" to keep reader gender neutral iv. wc — 1,9k

blade is a mutt riddled in scars and dirty bandages from living on the streets and fighting to survive.

you think he might be some german shepherd mix, but he refuses to let you swab his teeth n gums for a dna test (last time you tried you narrowly avoided a punch to the face. he apologized in his own way afterwards), so whenever people ask, just say he’s a rescue to avoid revealing that you actually just… don’t really know what breed he is. they usually drop the subject and simply go on their merry way, seeing as he wasn’t the type of pup to appreciate affection from strangers anyways– it’s rare for you to leave the house in the first place, though.

you had to switch to a remote job because blade is just so persistent when it comes to you. although possessive is a much better descriptor, because he doesn’t let anyone near you. whenever you leave to get groceries he ends up practically breathing down your neck from how close he gets— acting as if he were your literal shadow— glaring at everyone that gets too close to you. you’ve made it a habit to always go to self-checkout lane so blade doesn’t scare off the cashiers.

the second you get home he’s all over you, determined to rid you of that outside stench and replace it with his own. you started packing your grocery bags in a way that nothing will break if (read: when) you suddenly drop them on the floor, all because you’re so familiar with blade’s impatience.

he holds you still by engulfing your body with his, knees caging your hips as he grinds into you, shallow and deep. blade’s growls and huffs fill your ears just as much as his cock fills your hole, his knot kissing your tightness from the outside.

“do you like this? like how i have to fuck you every time you decide to go outside again when you could stay here,” with me blade omits, his tail swishing back and forth on the bedsheets behind him, the sound just barely grounding you to reality.

your grocery bags were long forgotten on the foor (as they usually are), your mind too foggy to function. clawing at the sheets, you try to crawl away from blade’s grip— to no avail.

he tuts, craning his head to bite down onto the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “i might just need to mark you for extra precaution,” he bucks into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. you hear squelching, the constant plap! plap! plap! from his thighs smacking against your ass and whine, broken babbles leaving your kiss-bruised lips.

“b-blade, y’can’t- ah,” he shushes you by plugging you full of his lengthy cock, his knot almost threatening to press inside of you. you whimper, feeling lightheaded from a mix of both nervousness and arousal.

he soothes the hickey he left on your neck, licking it languidly as he stills to bask into the way your hole throbs around him. warm and tight and oh so tempting.

“shit, wanna fill you. wanna… have everyone know they can’t have you. you’re mine, mine to love ‘n mine to fuck,” you’re not lucid enough to process his thinly veiled confession, too busy writhing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to get him to continue moving.

you might want to invest into some good concealer or into those skin coloured tattoo patches to cover the bruises and bite marks blade’ll leave on you if you want to continue being a functioning member of society. you can’t really be walking around in public as if a dog had just mauled you right before you left the house, can you?

gepard is a golden retriever because of COURSE he is. similarly to blade, he likes to invade your personal space a lot— not because he’s possessive, but because he’s extremely protective of you.

the random bruises you used to randomly notice on your body faded as soon as he came into your life. gepard’s soft, lingering touches healed them; gently placing a hand on your hip before you bump into sharp furniture so it doesn’t hit you, redirecting your head to his shoulder as you nod-off in the train before you bang your head, and so on.

it’s a full-time job and he’s working 24/7, always on the lookout for anything that could possibly hurt you as you saunter off… wherever, without a care in the world— because he took care of everything!

he would clean the apartment for you, cook (though you usually insist you do the cooking; a human doesn’t have the same taste in food as a hybrid), and even act as your own personal alarm clock. gone were the days of being woken up by loud, blaring beeping. gepard woke you up with forehead kisses instead, making your mornings much more pleasant.

but poor geppie, he’s always taking care of you; so take care of him, won’t you?

every so often you’ll sit in his lap to help him get rid of whatever stress he held in his body. your hands will knead at the muscles in his broad shoulders, all while you simultaneously kiss away the strain in his face. his brows are furrowed as you do your best to soothe his muscles; you never forget to smooch his cheek, nose and the corner of his lips.

though the attention and gentle acts of affection always ends with your hands lower than they should be.

“ah ah, no touching, remember?” you murmur in his ear playfully. you had been at it for what felt like hours; gepard’s cock and abdomen was smeared with the remnants of his cum, skin tacky from his previous loads. your hand shows no sign of stopping, not even when he begged oh so sweetly.

“c-come onn. just… jus’ wanna kiss…” and who were you to deny your sweet boy? your lips find his in a heartbeat, his tongue swiping over your own sloppily as he breathes you in like a depraved man.

the only condition you had when you did this was for him to keep his hands to himself— at least until you both decide to move on to something else. until then, his fists clench the sheets beneath the both of you, and his ears stay flat on his fluffy head.

“i’m… i’m close again, g- aah, please, please…!” he begs, cock weeping precum as you continuously jerk him off. you smile, absentmindedly rocking your hips to the rhythm you held him prisoner to— gepard was too engulfed in the warmth of your hand to notice, anyways. “cum whenever you want sweet boy,” you purr, and he keens as he buries his face in your neck, his hips lifting off the bed ever so slightly as they meet your hand and he thrusts, riding the high of his orgasm.

sticky cum coats your hand for the nth time; you relent your grip on his cock for his sake, instead choosing to shower him with chaste kisses all over his face. gepard whines, taking ahold of your waist weakly as he breathes into the crook of your neck.

“geppie, your han-“ he cuts you off, swiftly switching positions so you’re now laying on your back as he hovers over you, chest rising and falling quickly, catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. gepard’s tail wags slowly behind him as his hands creep up from your waist to your chest just as slowly- you feel his cock harden against your pelvis, precum spilling from his pinky tip.

“‘ts my turn now,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your neck.

boothill is the most obnoxious dalmatian hybrid you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen many, or at all). but he’s made your life so fun so you can’t be too mad at him

he’s always dragging you out of bed to go do something— could be going to the park nearby or sit in the living room playing video games on your dusty console, it doesn’t matter because he’ll MAKE you step out of your cozy nest!!

you’re glad he’s friendly, because you’re not sure how you would handle such an excited hybrid when you left the house. people come up to the both of you to chat and he indulges their questions, essentially leading the conversation (while you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say).

boothill is also great with kids, unexpectedly. 9 times out of 10 when you go to the park he ends up playing with someone’s child, bright smile on his face as he messes up their hair with a rough hand. they’ll throw a frisbee for him to go catch and he’ll do it happily, or he’ll even… teach them how to beat people up.

(you stare mortified as he teaches a little girl how to throw a proper punch only for her to then punch her parent when she leaves boothill’s side. you go up to them and apologize profusely, forcing boothill to bow with you.)

he also loves to help you out, even though he’s not the greatest at household chores— but he definitely tries! though he is a stellar cook, which never fails to surprise you whenever he’s on dinner duty. he just… really sucks at everything else.

it’s… mostly because he just has so much energy. he sweeps the floor? nope, he’s picking off the pieces of the broom off of the floor because he accidentally broke it. he’s fixing your bed? nuh uh, you’re throwing out the ruined bedsheets because he accidentally tore them to shreds somehow.

so, with all of these accidents happening because he’s just brimming with energy 24/7, you started purposely exhausting him. or, rather, gave him the green light to exhaust you until he tires himself out.

“booth-aah, w-wait, you’re being too…!” you fall over on top of his hard chest, keening at the new angle his cock reached inside of you. he repeated his assault on the spot that made you see stars as your jaw gaped, broken moans leaving your lips.

“don’t tell me y’re tapping out.. haa, already!” boothill grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. he throws his head back with a loud moan, abs tensing as he nears yet another climax— the 5th one of the night. maybe, maybe not. you lost count after the third one.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck, focusing on the feeling of his cock plugging you full instead of the soreness, the burn in your muscles that came from your knees holding you up on his lap.

watching you riding him will always be his favourite thing in the world, even if he always ends up fucking up into you and taking back control at the end of the night.

“gonna cu-uum…” you whine, clenching around his length almost painfully tightly, hearing his breathing hitch as an orgasm is ripped out of him in consequence to yours. boothill’s fingers dig into your ass, his hips lifting off the bed as he cums deep inside of your sloppy hole again, sticky fluid building up beneath the sheets.

you collapse on top of him fully, chest heaving against his own as you come back to your senses, slowly but surely. boothill’s ears perk up, hearing how your breathing had evening out.

“so… got another round in ya?”

[spacedace]

Okay but the Justice League finds out their new baby hero teammate Phantom is the Ghost King by virtue of the Fright Night showing up while they're in the middle of a meeting, looking terrifying and such and scaring the shit out of everyone- even more so when Constantine starts freaking out over the fact that the sworn night of the King of the Infinite Realms is in the Watchtower what the fuck that's apocalyptically bad Pariah Dark is supposed to be locked the fuck up forever - but instead of trying to smite them all or yeet them into the nightmare dimension he just pulls out a space themed packed lunch??? And gives it to Phantom??

And the mildly eldritch giant murder ghost is talking about how "The Queen Mother commanded me to ensure you ate my Lord, she says you missed your morning meal."

And Phantom is just grumbling about over protective sisters and "there's a cafeteria i would have been fine" what the fuck is happening right now?

What do you mean "oops you forgot" Phantom I thought the ghost thing was just a theme!

[chialattea]

whenever I feel sad I just sketch these guys to cheer me up,,, have a sketchdump,,,

[hollypies]

Finally drew something cult of the lamb related!!!

Got hit with a bit of artblock, which sucks :,(

Anyway I looove the fervor fleece it's so cute :)

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 31 / 31 * PEPSI FREE — ACROSS TIME 」

[yuwuta]

yuuta exhibits such previously abandoned, recently adopted dog behavior. incredibly anxious all the time, even though nobody’s out to get him or leave him behind. waits for you to return home or from school or from work excitedly, just to see you when you walk through the door. follows you around senselessly, hovering in your space just for the sake of companionship. initiates affection in prodding ways—starts off next to you, then a hand on your thigh, then deems it safe to lay all the way down, then slowly pushes his head into your lap. gets up whenever you need to get up, and resumes his position as soon as you’re ready. brings you gifts as a sign that he’s thinking of you, and maybe because he likes the affection it brings out in you, maybe because he likes the gentle affirming touches of a hand in his hair or a pinch to his cheek. rests his head on your stomach or his chin on your shoulder when he’s sleepy, stays there, immobile, and will not move unless absolutely necessary. sometimes he gets surprised when he hears you calling for him, there’s a moment of disbelief as he thinks “me? really? you need me?” but it’s very quickly overshadowed by this compulsive need to show up, to please, to do anything for you, which is why he always answers when you call. he doesn’t realize that he has puppygod eyes, especially when he’s excited or confused, but he does and it’s incredible endearing. very reluctant to share your space or attention after a while, considers that to be sacred and he won’t risk being let go or lost again, so as a safety precaution, he keeps himself right by you, waits for you always. 

[marlynnofmany]

All right, what's on the ol' professional to-do list for this morning? Ah yes, a photoshoot with Stabby the Roomba. Naturally.

[astxrwar]

im thinking a normal amount of thoughts abt this image. normal

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Dress Up Part 4: Secret Preview

Hey all, I know I promised to have Part 4 out today but I ended up being extremely busy this weekend and I apologize. Please accept this preview as an apology 🙏🏻

Warnings for teetering on smut but not quite~

You chuckled just loud enough for him to hear before summoning another portal and jumping through it. You saw Lucifer turn the corner, a wide and almost feral smile spread across his face before the portal closed. You found yourself in his workshop again, just down the hall.

"You know, I'm starting to regret teaching you how to use portals," you heard Lucifer's muffled frustration through the doors. You decided to take it one step further. After all, what's a fun game of chase without a little risk? You kicked off your shoes in an instant and snapped your dress away, letting it fall to the floor and leaving you in nothing but your lacy maroon bra and matching panties. You opened the door to the hallway and poked your head out to see Lucifer standing further down, his back turned towards you as he tried desperately to track you down.

"You're getting colder," you taunted. You watched as Lucifer snapped his head around before closing the door and portaling away once more to the opposite hallway. You heard the doors of his workshop open with an almost sinister laugh following.

"Oh, you little devil," Lucifer hummed as he took notice to your recently discarded clothing. "It almost seems like my little mouse wants to be caught." He wasn't wrong. You heard the sound of a portal being opened. Then silence. When you popped your head around the corner, a cursory glance showed Lucifer was nowhere to be found. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of not knowing where he had gone, but it excited you none the less. After a few moments, you decided to make your way back to your bedroom as quietly as possible. After carefully opening the door to the nearly pitch black room, you tiptoed over to where you had hidden Lucifer's gift, hoping to use the rope to your advantage.

But there was just one problem; you weren't alone.

"Oh, darling," Lucifer's voice echoed in the darkness, "you should have known better than to venture into the lion's den." A small scream escaped you as your eyes darted everywhere looking for the fallen angel. After only a moment, you spotted his silhouette in the shadows in the corner of the room, his pale yellow eyes illuminated in the blackness. He lunged at you with his teeth barred, forcing you back onto the bed with your hands now pinned on either side of your head. Lucifer had made quick work with his clothes after you had lost track of him as he was now only down to his duck printed briefs that left very little to the imagination. His tail appeared behind him, swishing back and forth excitedly like a predator who had found his prey. You were caught.

You swallowed hard as you gazed up at your capture. "Alright, alright, you win!" You tried to force your arms up in an attempt to escape, but Lucifer's grip held strong. "You know, if you don't let me go, I won't be able to give you your gift."

'Ah, ah, ah," he chastised sweetly, "I won fair and square! Like you said before, we shouldn't spoil the surprise too soon. Or maybe you just want to hear me beg for my reward."

Your face felt hotter and hotter with every passing second, his words flowing straight to your already soaking core. "I-It wouldn't hurt to hear," you admit. "I love when you beg for me."

Lucifer's breath hitched at your teasing as he raised your hands over your head, now gripping your both of your wrists with one hand while the other trailed over the mounds of your breasts, passing over you stomach, and stopping right at the hem of your panties. It took everything in you not to buck up at his delicate touch.

"P-Please, love," he murmured as he leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, your tongues entangling together as if it was a fight for dominance. "Let me devour you. Your taste is everything I could ever want. I'm addicted to it. To you." His lips found yours again, kissing you like his life depended on it. You felt his lips curl into a smile against your skin as he peppered kisses down your neck and collarbone. "Pretty please?"

Your chest heaved erratically at your husband’s tender display of affection. “Well, h-how can I say no when you’ve asked so nicely.”

[coffeeghoulie]

SwissTom sick fic? :)

I had a different idea for this, but then I got laid out with a migraine a few days ago and this happened. Hope you enjoy!

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

No one's seen Aeon all day. They don't show their face at breakfast, are missing from their seat at Mass. They skip out on the shadow shift they're supposed to take in the infirmary, learning from Aether and Omega, and no one sees them at lunch or dinner. Everyone makes note of it, but it's crunch time leading up to the next tour and everyone is ass over tea kettle trying to get ready.

It's Swiss that manages to sneak out of the guitarists' practice while Rain and Dew are bickering, sneaking back to the ghoul den to check on them. The den is always strange when it's quiet. Normally, there's at least one ghoul in the commons or the kitchen, bedroom doors open, but with everyone else in their sectionals, it's dead silent in here, and it's unnerving.

Swiss quickly moves on, padding down the hall. He checks his own room first. Aeon sleeps with him more nights than not. They had been there this morning, and Swiss had given them a kiss on the forehead before rushing out, late for his duties in the chapel. But his room is empty, nest still mussed up from where he had rolled out of bed this morning.

He shuts his door, turning to the one at the end of the hall. Swiss feels out with what little quintessence he has, eyes lighting up when he can feel Aeon's presence behind their door. He strides right up, knocking with one knuckle. "Aeon, bug, you home?"

There's no answer.

Swiss hums, shifting on his feet in the hallway. He gives them a minute. He knocks again. "Bug, I know you're in there," he tries again, keeping his tone forcibly light. He's good at hiding the worry growing in him, even as his scent starts to morph to something like burnt coffee.

There's still no answer.

He huffs, crouching down and pressing his hand over the keyhole. It had been locked, but nothing a little quintessence couldn't ease open.

The room is dark as Swiss presses the door open, hinges squeaking. "Bug?" he says into the darkness. His eyes strain to adjust.

A beam of light from the hall falls over Aeon's bed, illuminating the lump under the covers. It's painfully still and quiet. The room is almost bare, Aeon spending most of their time with their packmates, Swiss especially.

Swiss steps into the room, the scent of burnt ozone flooding the room, pain and distress, like a dry field after a lightening strike. He winces, brow furrowing, reaching out towards the bed. "Buggy, we're all worried, you missed pract-"

He's interrupted by a sharp hiss, Aeon's tail worming out from the blankets and thwacking against the mattress. It's every inch a threat display, but it only makes Swiss's brow furrow tighter. "Oh, Aeon, bug," he coos, lowering his voice to a whisper.

He kneels at the side of Aeon's bed, ignoring the hissing to carefully, gingerly, pull back the comforter. A glowing violet eye peers out at him, Aeon's spindly hands clutching at the white one. They're curled up on their side, knees drawn up to their chest.

Aeon hisses, trying to scramble back from Swiss, but they just get caught in the blankets. That same lightening strike smell hits Swiss in waves, and he does his best to keep his own scent calm and comforting.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, you're safe," Swiss whispers, rocking back on his heels to try and give them a little space. "Not gonna hurt you, bug. Your head, huh?"

Aeon freezes, still clutching the left side of their face. They open their mouth to speak and nothing comes out. Their purple eye darts over his face, fear and panic clear. Their pupil is shrunk to a pinprick despite the darkness of their room.

"It's okay," Swiss repeats as their panic grows stronger, reaching out to them. "It's okay if you can't talk, and I reckon you don't wanna move your hands to sign right now. You look like you're hurting."

Aeon shies away from Swiss's hand, spitting another hiss at him. Their ears are pinned back so tight to their head it looks painful. "D-didn't want you to see," they whisper, wincing at every word.

Swiss smiles sadly at that. "Oh, believe me, I know how that feels. I just want to see if I can help you feel better, buggy. I missed you today."

They whine, cautiously taking one hand from their head and sliding it to the edge of the mattress. With no quick movements, Swiss takes it in his, rubbing his thumb over their knuckles. "One tap for yes, two for no. Do you think a little quint will help your head?"

"No," Aeon croaks out, clutching their eye and their scars tighter, as if the pressure will ease the pain itself. "I tried and I can't- it never-"

"Was it Aeth or Meg? Or did you try yourself?"

Their eye locks onto his. "I did. When it was still new."

"Oh, buggy," Swiss breathes, still petting over their knuckles. "At least for me, quint's always been a little bit weird when you do it to yourself. Would you let me try?"

There's silence for a moment, the only thing disturbing the still being Aeon's tail waving slowly over the covers. They nod, a tiny wince. Swiss brings their hand up to his face, pressing a kiss to the back of their hand. He doesn't break eye contact.

The quint passes through them, traveling through nerves up their arm and shoulder and neck until it reaches the left side of their skull. The pain radiates from behind their white eye, from the clawmark scars over that side of their face, from the base of their horn. As carefully as he can, Swiss lets the quintessence wick away their pain.

He watches Aeon slump against the mattress, a soft cry falling from their lips as finally, after all day, the pain eases up. "Fuck," they whisper, letting their hand fall away from their face, eyes shutting.

Swiss doesn't stop rubbing his thumb over the back of their hand. "Yeah?" he says.

Aeon nods, movements less strained. "Mhm," they yawn, fangs glinting pearly in the low light.

He carefully pushes sweaty black and white hair off of their forehead, leaning in to kiss the lavender skin. Swiss avoids the scars, and is rewarded with a soft, exhausted chuff. "Would you like to come back to our nest, sweetheart?"

"Don't wanna move," they whisper, nuzzling down against their mattress. "But- Could you stay?"

"You don't even have to ask," he breathes, giving them one more soft kiss before he stands to crawl into bed behind them. Aeon presses their back against his chest, still chuffing softly as Swiss's answering purr kicks up. He wraps his arms around them, and he feels Aeon's hands come up to rest on his wrists.

Swiss kisses the nape of their neck and smiles.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

ope.. i got brainrot while driving into work again so here's a rockstar!eddie steddie blurb that goes with this song.

cw for possible refrences to suicidal ideation depending on how you interpret the lyrics (more literal or more metaphorical)

pairing: steddie | word count: 840 | rated: M

The first time Eddie tells Steve he loves him, it’s while they’re awash in the afterglow; Eddie’s still half sprawled over Steve’s bare back with his finger tracing patterns idly over his skin.

“I could trace enough constellations on you to get from here to Mars.” he says as if voicing a thought rather than to Steve.

“Oh yeah?” He snorts.

“Mmhm. And I’d love you from here to there too.”

The steady movement of Steve’s back shudders to a stop, his breath faltering. “Oh yeah?”

A new featherlight touch grazes the skin between his shoulder blades. Eddie’s lips. “From here to Mars, sweetheart.”

Mars becomes a thing between them, and between them alone; “Love you to Mars, Stevie,”, “I love you all the way back home, Eds.” or after some bigot gives either of them grief over their relationship, “Let’s just run away.”, “To where?”, “Hmm. I dunno, maybe Mars?”

So when Eddie has enough of Hawkins, when he does run, and his note is devoid of any reference to their neighboring red planet, it’s crushing.

Steve finds out from Wayne that Eddie and the boys had gone to New York, a two album contract for their band too good of an opportunity to pass up.

He’s jaded and hurt for a long time. Well into Corroded Coffin’s rise to worldwide stardom, and the feeling lasts until a headline in the aisle of the grocery store catches his eye. It screams ‘CORRODED COFFIN’S NORTH AMERICAN TOUR CUT SHORT.”, but there are more: “Frontman Eddie Munson checks in”, and “Eddie Munson: More substance than substance?”.

He and Robin are in Chicago now, running a small bookstore/coffee shop, and Jeff gets in contact with him.

“He’s okay, he’s already doing better. I figured you’d want to know.”

Jeff says it’d been getting worse and worse until Chrissy (who had long been the Robin to Eddie’s Steve, and who’s now his manager) had had enough and sent him off to get help. “He’ll be back sooner than later, I’m sure.”

The next anyone besides Chrissy hears from Eddie, it’s on the radio. A new song from Corroded Coffin’s Eddie Munson that’s nothing like anyone had ever heard from him. 

Steve hears it first when he’s preparing to open one day, that’s part of the reason why it comes as such a surprise. He has never tuned the shop radio to anything other than the mainstream channels, not wanting this exact thing to happen and hear the voice of the man that broke his heart to pieces.

“Up next, a change of pace from the currently still elusive Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin fame,” the announcer says as the song starts in behind him. Steve freezes at the name. “You heard of this guy? He and that band of his had been making waves in the metal scene for years now; and he’s reportedly been checked out of rehab for a couple months without anyone hearing anything from him. Until now.”

The song starts for real now, the acoustic fading into the background as a voice so unmistakably Eddie, his real southern twang leftover from growing up in Tennessee shining through, breaks through it.

Steve’s so floored at hearing his voice again, that he doesn’t really register the lyrics until Eddie croons out “What if I run away to Mars?”

“Mars.” Steve breathes out.

Eddie is singing about Mars.

Steve had always assumed he was forgotten. That after the years of fame and years without him, that the memories Eddie had of him would be locked away just as tight as Steve’s of Eddie were.

He can’t even continue to think about it because Eddie keeps going, “Would you find me in the stars? Would you miss me in the end, if I run out of oxygen?”

Eddie’s singing on his own, it’s just him and his guitar and his own backup vocals and he sounds so horribly sad.

Eddie’s not okay. Eddie’s not okay! Where is he? Where did he go after getting out of rehab?

Steve whips his phone out of his pocket, leaning heavily on the front counter now for support, and searches frantically for Chrissy’s number.

He’s hoping she hadn’t changed it when Eddie’s voice comes back in over his guitar, “I can't tell which way is home, I've been gone for so long..It's an empty world up here“

Steve freezes again.

He listens to the entire rest of the song there. Phone in hand, thumb hovering over the call button, and heart however many miles away to where Eddie is.

“Three, two, one, I miss you..I'm sorry I got issues” Eddie sings.

Steve finds himself thinking ‘I miss you too’ and ‘It’s okay.’

Eventually, the song ends with Eddie’s voice only. No backup instrumentals, only his voice crooning harmonically with himself 

“Would you miss me in the end if I run out of oxygen? When I run away to Mars..”

He presses the button.

“Steve,” She says in a surprised greeting, “Hi!”

“Where is he?”

star divider is from @saradika

short little part 2 here! | also on AO3

[beanghostprincess]

Usopp obtaining Conqueror's haki makes so much sense to me and I genuinely think he deserves it on Elbaf please please please

[hoofpeet]

I feel like that feeling of molting is entirely normal as you grow up, even if you experience a more extreme version of it. I totally understand and empathize though, as I've noticed a lot of systems and ego death experiencers do. I'm an amnesiac though (actually had it happen twice, once as a preteen and again in my mid teens). That sort of disconnect with your body and who you once were can be hard, unbelievably so, but from what I've noticed it kinda flows and ebbs. I don't think I've ever felt like the same person I was before, but I feel like there are times I'm more connected with the body I'm in and that the past is mine and other times I feel much less comfortable. I feel like over time though, the intensity of either tend to kind of mellow out to where you may feel more or less connected to your body but it becomes more comfortable. You've lived in it long enough that it feels more like you, in a sense anyway. Hopefully this helps in some sort of way, I suppose, even this ask is a little too rambly.

YEAH that's it this does articulate it pretty well .... I'm definitely very thankful I never had actual amnesia . But It feels like suddenly losing your muscle memory or something and having to get used to things again or like. grow back into your brain

[furiosophie]

They’re quiet for a long moment, just taking drags of their cigarettes before finally stomping them out beneath their boots. It’s only when there’s nothing between them but the night, nothing in front of them but a base that never really sleeps, either, that Soap asks, quiet, nearly dragged away by the wind, “Did ye mean it?”  “What?” “That ye’d follow me.” He doesn’t say anywhere. It feels implied though. Ghost thinks of all the things he isn’t saying. He thinks of the way Soap looked at him when he cut him open. He thinks of how exhausted he is, how ten minutes ago he thought he was hallucinating. How he isn’t fully sure that’s not still the case. “Yes,” he says.

not from the absence | CHAPTER TWO [read on ao3]

COVER/CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5