#healthy relationships are possible

[canisalbus]

I really appriciate how often Machete is depicted struggling and feeling like a burden, while still being loved and supported by Vasco. It gives the top tier angst of "i'm not good enough, I'm not worth it" but you frame it in such a way where it's clear that's just how he *feels* and is not how things really are, but also it's so nice to see someone who struggles quite often in a loving and unique relationship that suits them. The narrative of not being able to love or be loved unless you're consistently healthy is really tiring lol.

.

[moonmunson]

either way / no doubt

a/n: either way and no doubt by Odie Leigh have been on repeat currently and I relate to them so heavily so I word vomited on a Google docs. its a little rushed but oh well LMAO (I'm also always writing with a plus sized reader in mind)

cw: over thinker fem!reader, autistic coded reader, not knowing how to enter into a first serious relationship, kind lover boy!Eddie, no use of y/n

wc: 2.1k

It is the beginning of Spring when she meets Eddie Munson. Genuinely meets him, not just sees him around town and wonders what it’s like to be in his orbit. Working at the local diner, she sees him and his group of friends often. She’s served them a couple times, and they’re always respectful - albeit rambunctious. They tip well, stack their dishes for the busboys to clear, wave to her on the way out. 

It’s the day Eddie comes in by himself that marks it as different, new. He sits in her section of the diner, glances her way and then averts his gaze when she meets it. That’s odd, but she doesn’t think much else of it. Not until the end of his meal - consisting of a solitary cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie - does he stop her when she checks to see if he needs anything. 

He asks if she’d want to hang out sometime, and she laughs - a forced exhale of nerves. He asks why she’s laughing, and she doesn’t know what to say. After a few moments of awkward silence, she relents and shrugs. What would we do? He says anything she wants. What if she doesn’t know what she wants to do? He says they’ll figure it out together. 

They end up sitting in the back of Eddie’s van, the open doors facing Lover’s Lake. She’s fidgety, and stumbling over her words. He keeps staring at her when she talks and she’s not used to anybody doing this much work to stay focused on her and what she has to say, especially because she’s not saying much of substance. He asks her so many questions, and mundane ones at that. How are classes at the community college? What’s your major? She answers as best she can. 

The feeling of someone looking at her makes her skin crawl. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, she’s uncomfortably aware of the position of her nose on her face, which seems incredibly silly, and then she’s thinking about just how silly that is when he asks her if she’s alright. 

“Sorry?”

“I was just asking if you felt alright. It looked like you went away for a second there,” Eddie ducks his head down to catch her line of sight. Eye contact has always been difficult for her, but this is different - warm - like sunshine. “I know I’m not the most exciting person to talk to, but I hope you’re having a good time. I enjoy talking to you.” 

“I’m here, sorry. I like talking to you too.”

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s okay.”

“Sorry. Oh-” She sucks in a breath and places her hand over her mouth, eyes wide at the realization of her mistake. He giggles, a sweet boyish sound, and it warms his face. She thinks she could love that face, if he let her. If she knew how. She laughs too, despite herself. “It’s a bad habit. I really have to stop apologizing so much.” 

He’s still smiling when he says it’s okay, he understands. 

Later, when he drops her off at her apartment, the sun has gone down. The ride he’d offered her is relatively quiet. It’s a strange thing, to see the way someone adjusts themself around you. The usual loud heavy metal is absent here. The fast driving and sharp turns are traded in for complying with the speed limit, graceful steering and soft brakes. When he looks at her, she directs her gaze out the window - when she looks at him, he is focused on the road. 

He stops her as she takes off her seatbelt and goes to open the door, jumping out of his own and running around the front of the van to open it for her. She leads him to her front door, and he asks if he can see her again, if he can have her number. She nods, and rummages around her purse for a few frantic seconds before finding her waitress notepad and pen. When she rips the page out that she’s written her number on and hands it to him, he clutches it to his chest and smiles.  

“I’ll call you when I get home, if that’s okay. Just to let you know I made it back safely.”

“And if I want to keep talking to you?”

“We can talk for as long as you want to.” 

“Okay.” 

Eddie walks backwards for a few seconds, keeping his eyes locked on hers, paper still against his heart. By the time he’s made it back to his van, he lifts a hand up for a short wave goodbye, and turns to face the vehicle. 

Now or never. 

“Eddie?” In true Munson fashion, he whips around completely at the sound of her calling out to him. 

“Yeah, sweets?” 

“I just wanted to tell you I had a really nice time with you today. I can’t wait for you to call me later.” She tucks her hair behind her ears, needing to do something with her hands to offset the nausea brought about by her impulsive vulnerability. He smiles wider, if that’s even possible. 

“I’m glad you had a good time. I’ve been wanting to ask you out forever, Gareth and the guys kept busting my balls about it. I promise I’ll call when I get home.” 

She nods, her eyes tracking his steps as he makes it to his car. She watches him drive off. It feels so strange, this immediate wanting him to come back, wanting him to come inside and crawl into her brain. To know her fully. It scares her in a way she’s incredibly unused to. When she can’t hear the music blasting from his speakers anymore, she makes her way inside and slumps against the door for a few seconds. 

He does call when he gets home, and they talk until the sun rises. 

__

They spend the next few days talking on the phone. It’s easier like this, she thinks. She doesn’t have to worry about the way she looks when she’s thinking of something to say. She doesn’t have to avoid his white hot gaze, the way she can feel it trail over her face when she’s speaking. If he notices how much more she opens up to him when they’re not actively sitting next to each other, he doesn’t mention it. 

When they’re not on the phone, he clings to her brainspace like moss on a tree. She can’t stop thinking about him, to the point she’s worried she’s obsessing over something that isn’t there. He’d said he had a good time, he said he enjoyed talking to her, so why does it keep bothering  her so much? He feels safe. He does feel safe, but she’s not used to conversations with no expectations. No guise, no hidden agenda. If he notices the way she starts to pull away due to her overthinking, her sentences shorter and stunted, he doesn’t mention it. He carries on as usual, calling her to talk about what he’d done that day. It makes her smile. 

When he asks, unprompted, if he can see her again, she says yes. 

__

They go to the lake again. It is an early March morning, the last tendrils of Winter still grasping desperately for some kind of recognition against early Spring. He brings a blanket and hot cocoa for both of them, and she feels it in her chest - warm and sweet and chocolatey, like his eyes. It’s easier this time, talking to him. She spends less time worried about her posture and cadence - more time really listening to him speak and trying her hardest to maintain eye contact. 

The early morning breeze makes ripples on the otherwise still surface of the water. It’s so beautiful. He’s so beautiful. He’s so expressive when he speaks. She used to think he was careless, jumping on tables and riling up the people he knew didn’t like him. Seeing him up close like this, she realizes it’s kind of the opposite. It’s careful, planned, the way he uses his hands, his eyes. Even when he’s talking about a book he's read a million times, she feels like she's there among the scenery and characters he describes. It’s entirely captivating. She wants to be more like him. Carefully carefree. 

She’s never done this kind of thing - the relationship kind of thing. If that’s what this is, she has no idea how to traverse this new terrain. She can’t find her footing, she doesn’t know what the formula is, what the proper way to go about it looks like. She doesn’t think about sounding weird when she asks:

“What are we doing?” 

Eddie pauses mid sip, brings the cup back down to his lap. 

“Currently? Or like, with our lives?” He chuffs out a little laugh. Not in a teasing way, though it's hard for her to differentiate. “Because currently, from my perspective at least, I’m sitting in my van with a pretty girl talking about our favorite books. What I’m doing with my life is something a lot of people, including me, would really like to know.” 

Levity, she recognizes. 

“Sorry if it's a weird question, I just…” She trails off, breaking eye contact, looking at her hands in her lap. He scoots forward a bit, the side of his thigh touching hers as their legs dangle off the back of the van. He doesn’t push her to say anything, doesn’t acknowledge the unneeded apology, doesn’t fill the silence with his own voice.  He just waits, patiently. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him sit this still. 

“I really like you, and I really like talking to you. I’ve never done anything like this,” She uses her pointer finger to gesture between the two of them, drawing a connecting line between their bodies, “I don’t know how to, if that makes sense. I’m not really a lot of people’s type, I guess.” 

“Hey, look at me,” Eddie sets the cup down next to him and very gently takes her hand, locks their fingers together. When she raises her eyes to meet his, he continues. “There’s no rush, I mean it. You set the pace here, okay? I like you, like a lot. If all you wanna do is sit here and talk, I’m totally fine with that. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”  

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, sweets.” 

“What if you find out how weird I am and decide you don’t want to talk to me anymore?” 

At this, Eddie relinquishes his grip on her hand, hops down from the lip of the back of the van, and stands in front of her. 

“Y’know who you’re talking to?” two thumbs pointed towards himself - eyebrows raised, mouth quirked in a goofy grin, “King of the freaks, misfits, and ne'er do wells. I don’t think you could scare me off, but you’re certainly welcome to try.” 

“So just… be myself?” She scrunches her face up - the idea of being genuine is almost totally foreign to her. 

“Be yourself!” 

“Ew. Yeah, alright, fine.” She sighs in resignation and shrugs a shoulder. Doesn’t think about how convincing he is, or how willing she was to drop some of her defenses. Carefully carefree. She can do it. 

They share a laugh, finishing their luke-warm cocoa together and talking until the sun is high in the sky and the temperature rises too high for them to ignore any longer. This time, the drive home is less quiet. She meets his gaze when he looks over at her from the driver’s seat, she hums along to the sound of the radio, it's nice. Comfortable. 

Just like last time, Eddie hastens to run around the van and open her door for her. He extends a hand to help her down and out, and they stay connected on the short journey to her apartment’s front door. Eddie watches while she digs the keys out of her purse, unlocking the door and leading the both of them inside for a drink. He kicks his shoes off by the welcome mat, and they look like they belong there. 

It is the beginning of Spring when Eddie Munson permanently plants himself in her life, a steadfast source of comfort and nourishment. It is hard for her, and it takes longer than most for her to truly open up. To show him all the nooks and crannies of her mind. He takes it all in stride - her overthinking, her quirks and neuroses. He shows her that it is entirely impossible to trust someone enough to take part in the watering and flowering - that it's not a weight she has to hold alone. She can bloom.

__

if you enjoyed this story please like and reblog!!

[lianlianlianlian]

I want to write barbie x ken fanfiction set maybe a couple years after the movie (Barbie spoilers)

where ken decides to go to the Real World because he Can Do That now and meets barbie again whos been adjusting and living self-love and doing things and finding herself and It's this, like, tearful reunion moment and Ken's still in love with her but he's much better at keeping it to himself because ken always respects barbie's decisions, but barbie spends a few days with this ken who has over time also sort of become himself, and has discovered his interests and likes and dislikes and became, like, more rounded through experiences and discovers that she finds him utterly endearing and begins falling for him and just. Second chances pure friendship to lovers barbie x ken where they take some time off for themselves and meet each other as better people (dolls? idk u get the point).

[arataki-neato]

Thinking about how Kakfa tells Blade to unleash the Mara but doesn't Spirit Whisper him until he explicitly asks her to

[aro-culture-is]

Aro culture is wanting to scream at your friend to just dump their hateful racist asshole boyfriend, while at the same time knowing that they won't listen to you because they are in love and apparently, that erases their ability for critical thinking

While also not saying any of that because it would be rude

A "hateful racist asshole boyfriend" sounds ripe for a situation in which your friend could be dating someone actively grooming them for domestic abuse.

In those cases, individuals often already have poor boundary control, and it's not the critical thinking actually missing: it's the security that creating boundaries doesn't mean losing someone who they feel cares about them. Judgements on their ability to "think clearly" are both misplaced and encouraged by the abusers, as worsening self esteem leads to an abuse victim seeking comfort... often from the abuser.

I think it's very, very important to recognize that the best thing you can do for them is to be there, continually reaffirm that they can always tell you anything, and rather than pressure them to break up... ask them to tell you about the relationship. You can guide them to red flags, but also try to present possible communication elements. There are guides online by great resources talking about how to best support these conversations.

And, of course, it's always possible it is simply that your friend actually is racist and they put up with the behavior because of that. It's not hard for some bigots to find an in through less overt bigotry. But I strongly encourage folks to realize that "in love with no capacity for critical thought" is a very dangerous warning sign that someone may be unable to recognize healthy boundaries, and worse - to recognize unhealthy boundaries.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

okay wait laughingstock concept Incoming: so im imagining some of the neighbors (maybe Julie & Frank) noticing that Barnaby & Howdy are a lil fruity, yk yk. and Julie's like damn, i guess we have to play matchmaker here.

so naturally they wind up getting the whole neighborhood involved. everybody's a wingman here. Poppy's dropping hints when Howdy drops off groceries, Wally is constantly asking Barnaby to go get him things from the bodega, etc etc. Howdy and Barnaby are facing this sudden change in town-wide behavior with slight concern and bemusement

eventually - lets say Julie, Sally, and Wally - get Barnaby into the bodega and then abruptly leave like "don't have too much fun without us you two *wink wink nudge nudge*". once they're gone (read: very obviously hiding outside & watching through the window) Barnaby & Howdy turn to each other like:

Barnaby: you think we should tell them we're already married?

Howdy: let them have their fun - they'll figure it out eventually

[andthebeanstalk]

Betty is so relatable I would do the same shit for my wife

[teecupangel]

https://youtu.be/ifCWN5pJGIE?si=MvBHr36xNbHdsjYH

This kinda fits Desmonds mom in some way. Thoughts?

Here’s the embed video version for those who don’t wanna copy and paste the link:

I’m just imagining her hearing for the first time that her son, the son she hadn’t seen for nine years, could not even seen or talk to for one last time for the sake of both of their safety, was now dead.

Sacrificing his life to save the world.

Savior?

Messiah?

What used were those moniker to her dead son.

She wouldn’t be able to see him ever again.

She wouldn’t be able to touch his cheeks and take a good look of the man he had become in person.

She wouldn’t be able to smile and say “You’ve grown so much.”

She wouldn’t be able to ask…

“Were you happy these past years?”

“Was letting you go to be free worth the pain of not being by your side for nine long years?”

“It should have been you.”

She felt him freeze, the hands on her shoulders trembling ever so slightly.

“You should have died instead of our son!” She screamed as tears fell from her eyes.

He opened his mouth, most likely to call her name but stopped, letting out a gasp as her hands curled around his throat, squeezing him with the strength of an Assassin that have been in the field since she had been a teenager.

“You share the same blood as him! You’re a descendant of that cursed Auditore-Kenway line these beings haunt!” She shouted.

She could break his neck.

Snap it.

She’d done it before.

She’d kill so many people in the name of the Brotherhood before.

She was raised to be an Assassin.

She could just as easily-

She let out a frustrated scream as she threw him away, covering her eyes as bitter tears fell from her eyes.

He called out her name, his voice hoarse.

Was he grieving as well?

Did he loved their child as much as she did?

Who knows?

Who cares.

“Get out.” She lowered her hands as she ordered, the decades of forcing her emotions to shut down coming to the forefront, “Don’t ever show your face to me again, William Miles.”

Her expression turned to one of frigid nothingness.

It reminded William Miles of a recording of a memory of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.

The face the legendary mentor had made when his desire to kill the man who killed his youngest son triumphed over his desire for peace and truth.

“The next time I see you, I will claw open your chest and rip your heart out.” She promised in an emotionless tone.

She watched him leave.

The man she loved and loathed in equal measure.

It should have been him.

No.

It should have been them.

They should have been the one to die in their son’s place.

They both failed him as parents.

And now…

All she had left was a Brotherhood barely afloat and the useless legacy of her blood.

After all…

Those who have the blood of the Ibn-La'Ahad were meant to lose their beloved child.

[dmc5se]

it is a singular few minutes after midnight but that means its the 7th and that means that me and ally have been dating for a year .!!!!!!

[camgoloud]

you ever just. become overwhelmed by a sudden out-of-nowhere wave of tenderness and affection and longing for reconnection directed towards someone to whom you no longer speak for Very Good Reasons

[homo-kun]

The fact that the guidance counselor was set on pushing a narrative that since Miles is Afro-Latino he must have come from a struggling unstable environment, when that clearly isn’t the case, is such a great dig at the elitism within academia and how they don’t want BIPOC in the space at all unless there is some kind of strife to fetishize.

[toaster-trash]

I have my GCSEs in a week and I’m ranting to the group chat about Frankenstein adaptations and how angry I am about Henry Clerval being cut out of everything. In fact, you know what, I’m posting them here because the injustice of Henry Clerval in pop culture can’t be contained to the group chat

[madfoxx]

my favorite moment from the new episodes isnt even the kiss its the moment before that when ed gets so distracted by stedes slutty red pirate shirt that cant keep his eyes wandering to stedes chest like my man is straight up drooling he drops the fish conversation to switch into flirt mode and tell stede how hot he is. like seriously look at him

he´s swooning there´s not a single though in that brain and we all know man is gonna be able to "take it slow" for 5 seconds until stede says something in his "captain voice" or wears a v-neck and ed´s gonna climb him like a tree

[murderessshiv]

i‘m sorry but i cannot stop thinking about logan helping tom in the tomshiv divorce. it’s just such a heart breaking affirmation of all the reasons shiv held herself back emotionally in her marriage, she did all that and made sure they both were miserable and starved for love while standing right next to each other and it still wasn’t enough!! she did everything she could at every turn to get the upper hand in a completely made up game because she knew that if you‘re not fighting to be on top you are the subjugated and then she still turned out to be just the woman. because by giving in to the thinking of logan’s world she’d doomed her relationship to begin with and made sure to enter a ring she could never win anything in, love or otherwise. i got mommed!! my therapist was wrong and i was right!!

[jahiaang]

reading comments on facebook (again) today and well unlike what milkvans say, the GA's favourite ship is not m!leven anymore

(the og post is actually about comparing lumax and m!leven, there are different opinions but it seems like lots of people are saying they feel uncomfortable with m!leven. about these comments below, i don't totally agree with them, mostly with how they describe mike's character, but i think they are not too bad so yep here we go)

also no need to worry about the GA's reaction if when byler happens in s5 bc some of them have started to pick up the hints and i'm really happy about that :)

in conclusion, m!leven bones byler endgame. PERIOD.